Puma

by Jorrie Spencer

  “But Scott, he, I don’t know, he seemed to depend on Dev.”

  Trey cocked his head in question. “Yeah? Elaborate.”

  “Scott was needy. He was almost scared to be without Dev.”

  “A bit odd. After all, Scott could always claim another zombie. It’s not that hard for them to do, there are enough isolated people in the world. Then again…” Trey bent over the table and snapped open his briefcase, pulled out his computer, some papers. “I’ve done some research. Have a friend in the know. It’s likely that Scott is at the bottom of the pack. Pod,” he amended, with a glimmer of an ironic smile. “That’s a dangerous, vulnerable place to be. Perhaps that played into his dependence on this Dev.”

  This Dev. No, he was her Dev. She’d told Trey they were lovers and he’d filed it away as just one more fact. However, this was the time to deal in facts. “You know about these people, these Minders.” She tried not to sound accusing.

  “I do.”

  “You have information on them.”

  “Yes,” said Trey blandly. “When I stumbled upon your existence four years ago, I was there for a reason. I wasn’t just the tourist I claimed to be.” His words became clipped, a little angry. “I worked for an agency.”

  “What kind of agency?”

  “Don’t ask. An asshole agency. It has very recently and suddenly been disbanded, lost all credibility.” Trey waved his hand, to dismiss this point. “Back then, I was here to investigate a pod of Minders. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find them. Even though Ruth was supposed to lead them to me.”

  “Ruth?” Callie still couldn’t get her mind wrapped around Ruth being involved, had always thought Trey’s semiannual mentions of Ruth were a tepid attempt to show an interest in Callie’s personal life. Apparently not. “But how? I mean, God, she was only sixteen then.”

  “It was thought that her band of high school friends had been contaminated by a group of Minders, and the agency was concerned.” He opened his hand. “Unfortunately I could not find evidence. I had to give up.”

  “She sure as hell has been contaminated since. I don’t even want to think about what she’s been through.” Callie sank her hands into her hair and curled into herself. She should have done more to protect Ruth. “Not that my sister hasn’t been drawn to abusers before, but this is worse. And I didn’t even know.”

  “Minders are good at making sure no one knows, Callie. That’s their specialty. Besides, wasn’t that your time in the wild?”

  She acknowledged her semi-feral younger years with a nod. Puma had needed to work something out of her system while Ruth was a young teen, when Ruth was first being contaminated. Because when Sheena, their guardian and Ruth’s grandmother, had died, Callie hadn’t been allowed to take care of Ruth. She’d been put into a foster care, and Callie’s grief at the loss of her family had come close to breaking her.

  “Just be glad you’re helping Ruth now. You’ve rescued her from Scott. She’s no longer with him.”

  Yeah, but. Callie traced a finger over the edge of the table. “Thing is, Trey, Scott’s been a dream after her nightmare with Max.” The idea of Max with Ruth made Callie sick.

  Trey frowned. “Scott’s been a dream? What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s not that he wasn’t disturbingly controlling and that she wasn’t mind-bogglingly fawning. But from what I saw, Scott used his power to force her to eat and sleep well.”

  “Eat and sleep well,” Trey repeated slowly, disbelief in his voice. “That’s all?”

  “I think so.”

  “They didn’t have sex, Scott and Ruth? Or Scott and Dev, for that matter?”

  “Nope. My impression is that Scott doesn’t like sex.”

  Trey pulled back his lips to bare his teeth, his expression one of distaste. A low growl escaped. “Let’s not guess why that is.”

  Callie wasn’t sure what all that implied, except that it wasn’t good. Trey was glowering. Goodness, this was the most emotion she’d seen Trey exhibit. Well, except for the time she almost died.

  He slammed the flats of his palms down on the table. “Tell me why you want to protect Scott—that’s what I’ve been picking up from you on the phone, and here. If he’s worth protecting, I need to be convinced, because these people are dangerous and not necessarily salvageable.”

  She shook her head, suddenly confused by Scott and her desire to shelter him. Even after he’d essentially abducted Dev this morning.

  “Callie,” Trey said softly. “Scott is the key here, one way or the other, so you need to explain him to me.”

  She pulled in a long breath and visualized the nondescript boy who had started off as the weirdest control freak she’d ever met and changed over to someone who was terrified of the now-dead Max and the still-alive Eleanor.

  “He’s like this young male, more dangerous than he realizes, but lost.” Trey nodded encouragement and she continued. “He needs guidance, but isn’t hopeless, I think. He has some idea of doing good work, or his idea of good work. Even if he goes about that in the wrong way, in a way that damages those he’s supposedly helping. That said, perhaps I don’t really understand him. I thought I could keep Dev away from him, and I failed. I didn’t realize, or I didn’t want to realize, that Dev would be compelled to go to Scott.”

  She glanced at Trey, wondering if that was enough. “Is this what you want to know?”

  “If you think Scott isn’t a lost cause, I’m willing to help him.”

  “Is it too risky? I wanted to save both Dev and Scott—and instead I saved no one.”

  Trey eyed her. “Don’t give up yet. I’m going to do my best, and I have resources.”

  She sighed, searching his face for…what? Absolution? “I think I know what happened. I got so tired of bringing in young males for the kill. Scott is only nineteen. I couldn’t face destroying him too.”

  “For good reason, Callie. Scott is not a feral, whatever the Minder version of feral is, or he would not have been taking care of your sister the way you described.”

  She acknowledged that with a nod. “Scott’s biggest thing with Dev was having him cook.”

  Trey blinked. “Well I guess Scott is a bit of a homebody or something.”

  “Something,” agreed Callie.

  “From what you say, he’s not hopeless. I’m going to bring him in. I have contacts who I think can control him and would be willing to help him. However, we can’t lose sight of the fact Dev, by just being with Scott, is in danger now. It’s not healthy, being a zombie.”

  “Dev’s not a zombie.” Even as she spoke, it no longer seemed true. Dev, after all, had gone with Scott.

  Trey eyed her with something close to pity. “I doubt that very much.”

  Callie jerked a hand up to wave away her argument. “Can you find them?” There’d been a time when Callie had thought Trey could do everything and maybe she was expecting too much, but please God, let Trey be capable of this.

  He pinned her with his cold blue gaze and she saw determination. “I can find them. In fact, I have.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes, and she saw Trey seize up in reaction to this second show of emotion—too much in such a short period of time—so she got hold of herself. “How? How did you find them?” She kept her voice even.

  “Actually, I didn’t find them. A friend with connections looked into it for me.”

  “A friend?” Callie didn’t think Trey had friends.

  The corner of Trey’s mouth kicked up. “I consider him such. While I’m not sure he’d use that word to describe his relationship with me, he nevertheless owes me.”

  She frowned. “You couldn’t identify these Minders four years ago. What’s so special about your friend that he has and so quickly?” She fisted her hands. “He has to be right, Trey. We simply don’t have time to fail.”

  “I know that, Callie.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  “You asked what’s so special? He has connections for a reason.” Trey leaned
forward. “Not all Minders are bad, Callie. My friend, he’s a Minder too.”

  Callie shivered, unsure if she should take that news as good or bad. Trusting Trey made sense to her so she simply nodded as he packed up his computer again.

  Not long after Trey’s revelation, they hit the road. They had an address for what was apparently the pod’s home base—a house in the suburbs.

  “Does your friend like spying on his own kind?” Callie asked while Trey sped along the highway. Maybe it was good to know some Minders would help others. On the other hand, maybe this “friend” would turn out to be as sneaky as Scott.

  “It’s not spying,” Trey said flatly. “It’s looking out for people like himself. He’s been part of a dysfunctional pod, bottom of the heap like Scott, so he’s willing to help me clean this one up.” Trey glanced at Callie. “He knows exactly what that entails.”

  She sank into her car seat. “Why does it have to be so hard?”

  Trey lifted his eyebrows and it was encouragement enough for Callie to go on.

  “Why do us freaks have to have such murderous kin? People we have to kill? Why do our own kind inflict such harm?” She was thinking not only of Max, but of the ferals she’d lured in for Trey’s people to kill.

  Trey didn’t answer for at least five minutes. Callie thought he wasn’t going to, that there simply wasn’t an answer to her question. Finally he said, “We have to get them young and save them.”

  “Not easy to do.”

  “Well, Callie, if I ever find a young werecougar that I think can make it, I am going to count on you to raise it. And you’re right, it won’t be easy. It’ll be the toughest job you’ll ever have.”

  The puma in Callie seemed to leap at the suggestion. No dismay, despite her recognition that it would be a difficult undertaking.

  “I’d like that.” She realized she was speaking for both her halves. If nothing else, these god-awful few days had brought Puma and her in line. They both wanted to protect, they both wanted to love, and they both wanted to destroy those who destroyed others.

  “So what exactly are we going to do now?” Puma was spoiling for a fight with Eleanor, whose Minder powers needed to be brought to an end.

  “We’re going to scout out the premises. Then I’m going in to execute Eleanor.”

  Callie swallowed. This was the stone-cold Trey she knew. It was chilling, but under the circumstances, also reassuring.

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten I’m a killer, Callie.” The tone was flat, the irony hinted at.

  “I haven’t forgotten. I called you because of what you are.”

  Dev wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t even a cop. He’d been studying law till he’d dropped out last year. Criminal law, sure, and that was the reason he knew how to handle a gun. He’d thought, way back when, in the days before he’d become entrapped by the agency, that he should know about guns if he was studying cases that involved people using guns.

  He glanced at the empty passenger seat. The gun glinted as he passed under the highway’s bright lights. He rather dreaded pulling that trigger again. Not that he could regret Max’s death, far from it. Max had been a sadistic, abusive bastard. Nevertheless, the actual killing of someone, of taking someone’s life, made Dev feel rather ill.

  He’d wanted to study law, not end up like this. He set his jaw, annoyed at the pang of self-pity. He’d sworn he wouldn’t get maudlin and frankly he couldn’t afford it right now. He’d lose his focus and any chance of success.

  If he was lucky, Scott wouldn’t waken till morning, and by then it would be all over. Dev had convinced Scott they should stop for the night, about an hour away from Eleanor’s, and they’d pulled into a Marriott, Scott’s credit card paying for their stay.

  The boy hadn’t been sleeping well, not since Callie had handcuffed him to the bed. So once Scott dozed off and appeared to drift into deeper sleep, Dev had very quietly picked the car keys off the desk and slipped out of the room.

  The gun he had left in the car and now it was his companion.

  He passed under another bright highway light. Three more exits till he hit the one he would take. As he approached it, his gut tightened a little more.

  Thirty minutes later, Dev pulled off the main street and made his way into the upscale suburb. Not a safe house this time. Nothing safe about it.

  This subdivision had huge houses. Clearly the pod was rich. Dev came to their court but drove past and parked the next street over. He wanted to walk up to the house and he didn’t want them to take his car if he could help it.

  He got out of the car with the gun, wearing a jacket to hide the weapon from sight. Nevertheless he felt like the gun was lit up in neon and everyone could see it. Obviously he was not the kind of person who relaxed while wearing a weapon. He inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. As if he could relax tonight no matter what he carried.

  So he took a few minutes to get used to the idea that he was walking up to Eleanor, with a gun. He locked the door, then spent a moment leaning against the car, arms resting on top, while he got his head together for this one final act. His biggest fear was that his brain was so zombie-stupid that what seemed like logical action from inside it, with at least a chance at succeeding, would actually turn out to be pure idiocy.

  He’d probably never know and there simply wasn’t time for second-guessing. Scott would be heading this way, possibly now, definitely by tomorrow. Dev could not allow Eleanor to get hold of Scott. Not only would she set him up for further abuse, she’d find out about Madison and Ruth, and for that matter, Ian and Helen.

  Even Callie.

  Dev couldn’t allow it. He had to kill Eleanor, before she opened her mouth.

  With that thought, he pushed away from the car and started walking. His favorite scenario had Eleanor opening the front door and Dev putting a bullet in her head. Once she was dead, Scott could no longer return to her, and he wasn’t bound to anyone else in the pod. If Dev could intercept him before another Minder got his claws in, Scott could go free.

  However appealing this scenario, Eleanor was unlikely to open the door. She didn’t do things like that. Evidently for good reason, Dev thought grimly. So Dev would go to the door, act like he was Scott’s zombie and be completely distressed because Scott was in big trouble. The Minder who greeted him would then take him to Eleanor.

  At least it wouldn’t be hard to act distressed. Because he sure as fuck was.

  Things might play out differently, more violently. He might have to kill Minders other than Eleanor in self-defense, though he disliked the idea of being their judge and executioner. He had gone into law for a reason, had believed everyone deserved due process. But these Minders were outside the law and their words were lethal. For that matter, they might push him the moment they saw him and he’d be dead in the water.

  By a very thin thread, he hung on to the fact that Minders had a policy about not encroaching on each other’s property. Dev officially belonged to Scott.

  Of course, Scott belonged to Eleanor.

  Still, he thought, mustering some optimism, there was enough to make this plan work. He had to believe that. Eleanor couldn’t know that Dev was prepared to kill her, given that she thought she held tight control over Scott.

  The agency, the fucking agency, had promised to swoop in and save not only him, but Scott and any other innocents. What a fucking joke. The rage boiled within Dev and gave him the energy to walk faster, reach his destination more quickly.

  Later on, he would never remember those ten minutes it took for him to walk from the car to the house. One moment he was at the car, trying to clear his head, the next, he was standing at the front door. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate or he’d freeze up. He raised his fist and rapped on the painted wood.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The seconds stretched out and his mind seemed to empty. He allowed his thoughts to scatter, his face to become vacant. After all, he needed to act like a zombie and that just wasn’t much of stretch
, given the way he’d spent this past year.

  A stranger opened the door. A Minder he hadn’t met before—around his age, brown hair and blue eyed. Taller though. Don’t look into the eyes. Dev slid his gaze over to the man’s shoulder.

  “I’m Scott’s,” he put in quickly, identifying who he belonged to, hopefully convincing this man to leave his brain alone.

  “Scott’s not here.”

  “I know.” Dev dragged in a deep breath, because his next words were more difficult to say than he’d thought. “I’m here to see Eleanor.”

  “Why?” The man sounded a little…bored.

  “I have a message from Scott. He said I could only deliver it to Eleanor.” There. The man couldn’t argue with a zombie doing as his Minder bid.

  “All right.” He reached for Dev who jolted back.

  The stranger’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Dev,” he answered cautiously.

  “I have to pat you down, Dev.”

  “I have Scott’s gun,” Dev said immediately, trying to avoid suspicion even while his heart sank. He was going to lose his weapon, which made killing Eleanor that much harder. The man held out his hand and Dev passed the gun to him. “Scott wanted me to have it, I don’t know why.”

  The man shrugged, searched Dev for other weapons, then beckoned Dev in. He led Dev to the living room and pointed to the couch.

  “Sit there and don’t move until Eleanor gives you further orders.” Dev startled at the push, his mind rebelling.

  “Did you hear me?” the stranger asked quietly, and Dev nodded as his feet took him to the couch. In confusion, he sat, feeling fearful until he recalled he was here to see Eleanor. So he would wait. He certainly didn’t have anything else to do. Dev braced himself for more orders from the stranger, but after eyeing Dev for a moment, he seemed satisfied and left Dev alone.