Cheetahs Never Win

by RJ Blain

  “News about his father in political format. If he’s shown with a woman, perhaps there’s an element of the story. If we get both, then we probably have a really strong story, but I wouldn’t count on that. That would be too much of a coincidence.”

  “How long was his father in politics before his Presidential run?”

  Sassy shrugged. “I haven’t researched much into his father. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  I wouldn’t blame her; without the other clues in place, I wouldn’t have thought it relevant either. “We’re going to need that data. Can you look for that while I read these newspapers?”

  “On it.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sassy’s father announced. “It’s time to put the research away. Dinner will be ready soon, and your mother really might give you a whooping if you make her late feeding the guests. Aaron, your parents are on the way and should be here within the next twenty minutes, so you should go take a warm shower and get yourself as presentable as you can. I had the brats steal some clothes from your place last night. It’s up in Sassy’s room. Sassy, you can help set the tables. Joe, you keep an eye on Aaron. You may as well do those doctorly things you claim you’re so good at.”

  I packed away my laptop and jotted down a note of what I needed to look for after dinner. “I just hope we can figure out the trend tonight so we can start looking at other articles to identify potential leads to additional victims.”

  “Me, too. We’ll get this guy, Aaron. One way or another, we’ll get him.”

  “It could be someone covering for Tom Heatherow,” I reminded her.

  “I don’t care if it’s him or not. I just care how he fits into this. If we find out where he fits in the puzzle, we can figure out the entire puzzle. That’ll lead us to the killer, and it’ll lead us to the killer in a way where we have more than circumstantial evidence.” Sassy smacked the pile of papers on the coffee table. “This shit is circumstantial evidence at best. We need solid leads, and we won’t get it until we figure out this mess. This guy is a professional, and until he makes a mistake, we’re fucked.”

  “Language,” Sassy’s father warned.

  “Well, we are. We haven’t even been able to find the damned truck that hit Aaron. It’s like the fucking thing just disappeared into thin air. It’s not on any of the recordings, and there’s no evidence of where he exited the highway. How the hell does a big white semi just disappear like that?”

  Joe frowned. “Wait. White?”

  “Yeah, it was white,” I said.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Joe replied.

  I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean the truck wasn’t white. It was red, painted with produce on the side. I know you rattled your head pretty hard during the crash, Aaron, but that’s a pretty big difference. It was red with produce on the side, one of those farmer’s market trucks they use for the weekend markets in town.”

  “Schuckle’s?” Sassy asked.

  “Yeah. You know the one I’m talking about.”

  Sassy’s father frowned, and his brows furrowed. “But the truck was white, Joe.”

  “Not according to Aaron’s memories it’s not, and I’ve got the truck’s tags from his memory, too.”

  “I noted his tags, too. What were they?”

  “F03-0268.”

  “That’s not what I remember,” Sassy’s father muttered. “And the truck was white.”

  “And what does this tell you, Dad? I’ll wait.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Illusionary magic. Someone disguised the truck, and then he dropped the magic to make the truck disappear.”

  “And he’s able to affect the traffic cameras so it picked up a white truck with the wrong tags, so when he dropped off the radar, he was back in his regular truck. A little extra magic, and he could disguise the damage to the truck from ramming Aaron into the median. Alternatively, he could have a manipulation talent that allows him to change the color of the paint on the truck. I can think of four or five classes of magic that could accomplish the same goal.”

  “Why did you wait until now to tell us?” Sassy demanded. “What the fuck were you doing poking around in Aaron’s memories? You asshole!”

  “Finding out he loves your legs in your jeans, has as much of a shoe fetish as you do, and his general intentions with you, my sister. The intel on the truck was just my excuse to find out what he was up to.”

  “I bought you really nice shoes, please don’t kill me,” I begged.

  “Aaron.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Which jeans?”

  “The ones you pounced him in with the blue shoes, which, for the record, he really appreciates. He was too busy admiring you in your jeans and those shoes to care you’d about killed him jumping on him like that,” Joe announced.

  “I have three other pairs just like them.”

  I reached for her bag of new shoes only to have my hand slapped. “I just wanted to hand you the clear pair.”

  “Heels outdoors would result in a broken ankle. No. I’ll wear them for you later.”

  “Tonight later or later later?”

  Joe laughed. “As I said, Sassy. He has a shoe fetish almost as bad as yours, but he only likes shoes you’re wearing. But being serious. The truck was red with produce painted on the side of it.”

  Sassy’s father scowled. “Explain how you’re seeing that in his memories while we’re remembering something completely different.”

  “I’m accessing the memory directly without the visual cues and markers. Memories are stored in a different section of the brain than eyesight and sensory input. The sensory input portion of the brain is what’s being affected. I directly accessed the memory, and as the magic affects a different part of the brain, it’s unfiltered. It doesn’t hurt that I’m fairly resistant to that sort of magic due to military training. I have to be able to detect and see through illusionary magic to make certain I’m properly treating injuries. Illusionary magic is sometimes used offensively to prevent soldiers from being treated, causing additional casualties. So, because of my training, while it’s possible the memory itself is flawed, I’m able to see through it anyway.”

  “Is there a chance that the scraps of paper have been influenced by such magic?” Sassy asked. “There’s a lot of them.”

  “Actually, yes. That’s a possibility.”

  I grabbed my phone and called Maxwell.

  “Aaron?” Maxwell answered. “What is it?”

  “The semi that hit my truck is red with produce painted on the sides. A Schuckle’s truck, and the tag number is F03-0268. Probable illusionary magic according to Sassy’s brother, Joe. Is there a chance we can get access to a full set of the paper scraps? It’s possible that they’re affected, too, and Joe might be able to see through it.”

  “Illusionary magic? Are you serious?”

  “It explains why the truck disappeared from the highway cameras. It disappeared because he changed the appearance of the truck, and he probably used magic to cover anything unusual.”

  “I’ll run the tags. Is Joe willing to verify this through an angel?”

  “Joe? You willing to verify with an angel?”

  “Of course. And an angel can verify the memory, too, if you allow it.”

  “I’ll ask an angel to review the memory, too. He was poking through my head trying to find out more information,” I admitted.

  “Have him review the first killing. You might really have seen something you don’t remember. Be careful, Aaron.”

  “I’ll ask him. And you, too, Maxwell.”

  “Will do. I’ll swing by later to talk about this.” Maxwell hung up.

  I set my phone on the coffee table. “He thinks you should review my memories of the first shooting, as this may mean I really did see something.”

  “Or your camera did, just like you speculated. I haven’t seen the photos yet.”

  “Sassy? Can you print a full copy of the pictures for Joe?”


  Sassy glanced at her father.

  “I’ll do your share of the dinner work while you get those printed out. Go shower, Aaron. Joe, how long will it take to rummage through his memories?”

  “Twenty to thirty minutes.”

  “Do it before dinner, and I’ll tell your mother it couldn’t wait. If you find something, you get law enforcement on the move. That’s too important to leave sitting for long.”

  “Shower after, Aaron. You’re not going to like the next half an hour, and you’ll want that shower to help you recover.”

  “If it helps catch the killer, it’s worth it.”

  The first time Joe had poked through my memories, I hadn’t noticed him doing it. I assumed the transfusion and my weakened state had numbed me to his work. With time running short, he abandoned his finesse and stirred through my head with a red-hot poker. It hurt too much to scream, and my life flashed in front of my eyes, a confusing blur of images, sounds, and sensations.

  He stopped and slowed every time I’d thought about his sister, and the instant I felt up for the task, I’d beat him black and blue over it.

  When he got to the crash, I lost a few minutes of my life as the pain associated with the memory intensified beyond my ability to handle it.

  I woke up to Joe slapping my cheeks.

  “I really hadn’t wanted to do that, but it’s the only way I can access your memories. I have to rewind them,” he confessed. “Once you went down, I got what we needed. I’m sorry. If I could have prevented it, I would have.”

  “That sucked. Can we not do that again?”

  “That’s the idea. I rewound as far back as your first contact with Tom Heatherow.”

  That would likely bite me in the ass later. “So, you’re saying you own my ass for the foreseeable future.”

  “Something like that. You’re pathetic. I just thought you should know that. You really went through all that work to avoid her traps, cleaned up after her, and waited until she came over to dunk yourself so she could lick the skin off your face.”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “You were infected before the crash.”

  I blinked. “Pardon?”

  “You were infected before the crash. That’s Dad behavior. That’s ridiculously similar to Dad’s behavior. That’s breeding male cheetah behavior. When were you last tested?”

  “Not that long ago.”

  Joe’s eyes narrowed. “No. That’s definitely infected long-term behavior. That’s not ‘standard human hates women Aaron’ behavior.”

  “It was one of my more desperate stunts,” I agreed.

  “How long have you been buying my sister shoes?”

  “Years,” I admitted.

  “I’d probably kill you rooting through your memory for years, so I can’t look to see how the hell you contracted lycanthropy.”

  “You seem a little sure I contracted lycanthropy.”

  “Aaron, my sister’s tongue is worse than sandpaper. She can flay muscle from bone with that tongue. That’s what it’s there for. You should have been bleeding after she licked you for two hours. It hurt, but that was not the reaction of a standard human being licked. The virus was already there and healing your face. You barely had a mark on you after that. Slightly reddened cheeks. That’s a sure-fire sign of lycanthropy to me. But how the hell did you avoid detection? You’re checked how often?”

  “Every two years when I’m renewing my license.”

  “And you’ve been partnered with Sassy since you started college. Can you think of any time you might have mixed blood with Sassy?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. She’s really careful about transmitting the virus. I’m not allowed to go anywhere near her if she thinks I might contract the virus.” I shrugged. “She panics if she thinks she might pass on the virus to anybody.”

  “And everything I saw in your memories supports your look-but-don’t-touch mentality. So where’d you get it? It’s obviously our strain; Dad’s virus boosted yours. And if it’s not early onset, how long have you been infected? What type of scanner did they use on you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the scanners.”

  “Did they do a blood test?”

  “No. It’s one of those press to the skin ones.”

  “Insensitive, low accuracy. It won’t detect lycanthropy until you’re a stage below contagious,” he replied. “That can be up to five to ten years post initial infection. Any chance your past girlfriends were lycanthropes?”

  “Even if they were, I took all the precautions.”

  “No oral sex?”

  While I disliked discussing my past sex life with Joe, I ignored my annoyance and replied, “Absolutely not.”

  “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”

  “Maybe five years ago. We were starting our business in earnest. She had another guy on the side, and I gave up at that point.”

  “It’s likely you were infected at least a year or two prior to that, then. A year or two into infection is when the loyalty element really starts kicking in. With Sassy around, your virus likely considered her a viable mate, which would explain why your heterosexual tendencies remained intact. Male cheetahs only join coalitions when there are no eligible females around.”

  “And sisters don’t count as eligible.”

  “Correct. Dad’s always been pretty picky about who he lets near Sassy. Frankly, I’m astonished you got his approval.”

  I rolled my shoulders and cringed at the creaks and cracks. “Your father did rearrange my face that one time.”

  “When he popped your tooth out and had to…” Joe’s eyes widened. “That clever son of a bitch.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “He could have easily infected you then. Easily. One scraped knuckle in your mouth and you’d be infected.”

  “But he didn’t bleed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I blinked. “He showed the cops his hands. No cuts.”

  “Aaron, just who do you think I got my magical abilities from? Dad could’ve closed any cuts on his hands without breaking a sweat. A few scraped knuckles is nothing to him.”

  My headache intensified. “You think he infected me on purpose?”

  “I know that’s going to upset you, Aaron, but think about it from my father’s shoes. Sassy’s loved you since the day she laid eyes on you, and you respected her too much to go against her wishes. Dad’s not the type to let my sister suffer over something he can control. He’d do a lot more than face the penalties for infecting someone with lycanthropy to make her happy. That doesn’t make it right, but ultimately, you wanted the virus of your own volition.”

  “That’s incredibly underhanded.”

  “We should beat the shit out of him later over it. My brothers will help.”

  “I might accept that offer. Where does that leave us?”

  “Well, with only seven years under your belt, you weren’t contagious, and he must have given you barely enough blood to infect you. That’s a longer incubation time. Since we have zero proof of earlier infection, we’ll treat it like an early onset rather than the wily manipulations of a stupidly clever feline.”

  I wanted to be angry with Sassy’s father, but I hesitated. If I had been infected, I hadn’t noticed the changes in my personality, and I’d always, always respected Sassy’s desire to only mate with someone already infected with lycanthropy. Fresh out of college, I doubted I would have taken the dive without being pushed, but as time had gone by, Sassy had become a critical part of my life.

  Ultimately, no matter which way I viewed the situation, I would’ve sought out the virus.

  “I’m going to go punch your father in the mouth to see how he likes it.”

  “If you’re going to go punch him in the mouth, do it before you shower, please. Also, give me a chance to tell Dean and Charlie. The three of us can hold him back while you get your hits in.”

  “Can you fix his teeth?”

>   “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  I cracked my knuckles. “Will breaking my hand on his teeth cause any problems?”

  “Beyond needing another transfusion once you start bleeding on me? Not at all. Just make sure you don’t bleed on your family. You’re undoubtedly contagious now.”

  “You got it.”

  For as long as I lived, I’d enjoy the shocked expression on Sassy’s father’s face when I sucker punched him in the mouth for all I was worth. I staged my ambush for the outdoors, which would be easier to clean, and as I respected Sassy’s mother, I waited until only Sassy and a handful of her brothers witnessed my deed. Despite my convalescence, I still possessed enough strength to make it hurt. My prediction of breaking my hand on his face came true, and the stab of pain focused me on my task.

  Blood for blood sounded fair to me, and I pounced, ready to take out my frustration on the sneaky, conniving feline.

  “What the hell?” Sassy shrieked.

  “I went poking around Aaron’s memories for information on the killer and discovered, while reviewing, it’s very probable he’s been infected for at least a few years. The most probable suspect is getting his face tenderized. Lift a finger against Aaron, and Charlie, Dean, and I are joining his side, Dad. You can fend him off, you can’t do anything more than that. Try not to lose your teeth. I’ll fix them after he tires himself out. You’re so thoroughly busted, Dad.”

  “I ain’t done nothin’!” Sassy’s father howled, grabbing hold of my chin to hold me at arm’s length.

  “You healed your knuckles after cutting them open on Aaron’s teeth.”

  Silence.

  As I hadn’t ensured I’d knocked out at least one of his teeth, I took another swipe at him, not caring the motion hurt like hell. There’d be time enough later to worry about my busted hand.

  “Daddy?” Sassy whispered.

  Yep, Sassy wasn’t taking the news well, and since her father caused her distress, I went for his throat like I meant it. Charlie and Dean snagged me under the arms and pulled me off. “Hey!”