Jungle Blaze

by Lexy Timms

  Thankfully someone had the forethought to grab a tablecloth and wrap the lioness who collapsed in the communal space where they’d been gathering to dine. She clutched the fabric around herself as best she could and, taking a deep breath, began the transformation back.

  “There was someone there! I don’t know if he wanted me dead... or for something else...” she gasped when she had enough of her own vocal cords to speak. Careful to not use the more alarming words of ‘rape’ or ‘kidnapping’ out of respect for the children who still clung terrified to their parents at the edges of the crowd. Her meaning was clear enough anyway that several started to cry. She hated this. Hating frightening them like this but had to choke out the rest, let them find the man and deal with him. “He was at the gate... and a freakin’ big knife.”

  When she was a child, a cousin set a group of plastic soldiers on a cookie sheet and put them in the oven just to watch them melt. Angelica was seeing that again, here. As one, nearly a dozen men and women suddenly melted, their tear-way clothing doing just that, and within a heartbeat ten tigers were nearly airborne, running down the road in pursuit.

  She almost felt sorry for the man.

  Almost.

  She felt arms wrap around her. The next thing she knew she was in Taylor’s strong arms and being carried back to their room. He treated her like spun glass, all concern and solicitation. He checked her for wounds, found a fresh change of clothing in the drawer and helped her dress, leaving the tablecloth crumpled in a heap on the floor.

  It was only a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. She was curled up in his arms again, lying on the bed, and didn’t want to leave. He tucked the blankets around her until she was in a safe little warm cocoon, letting her stay and not deal with this.

  Angelica lay there, accepting the gesture for what it was, though a large part of her was still angry enough to want to go back, to be one of the big cats tearing through the jungle to look for this intruder. To do him the harm she hadn’t been able to stomach earlier. Seeing the children frightened had brought home to her how precarious this group’s existence could quite possibly be, despite having been settled here for hundreds of years. Who was to say that this group was any safer than the one in Minnesota? Or any other group, however many more there were.

  She was such an idiot! Why had she even figured it was okay to leave the compound? She didn’t know anything, and to do it after dark? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!! For a doctor, an intelligent woman, she was a freakin’ idiot! She needed to be put on a leash!

  She stewed in these thoughts, deep within her blanket nest as Taylor opened the door a crack and talked to someone outside. There was a rumble of voices, a back and forth that she couldn’t quite make out before the door opened wide to admit the elder woman, Helga, who came inside and paused in the middle of the room. She held something in her hand that Angelica couldn’t see.

  Angelica sat up, letting the blanket fall. She caught a glimpse of other people milling around outside on the step before he shut the door gently, closing out the world and the growing outrage that she could feel vibrating through their conversations even from here. For once she was thankful that Taylor had decided things for her, knowing that he had kept the others out, that he would only allow one person inside the room to tend her, and that apparently Helga was the chosen one. It was an audacious move, one that challenged the elders for her sake.

  It didn’t escape her notice that he’d actually won that point.

  Helga moved to lean over her, gentle fingers lifting her chin that she might look Angelica in the eyes. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” Angelica said, and realized that she was shaking. “No, just wasn’t expecting that. I got caught very off-guard.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you,” Taylor said, sitting next to her, taking her hand in his. Letting Helga know that he would only allow so much interaction, that he would shut things down in an instant if he felt it necessary.

  Not that Helga was exactly one to back down either. Her eyes were filled with a certain fire as she turned her gaze on him. “Yes, well, neither of you are going to be going much of anywhere unescorted any time soon.” The words were ominous, made more so when she unfolded the paper she was holding in her hand. “We found this on your attacker.” She presented it first to Taylor. His face froze in anger. Angelica had seen that expression before. Several people had died the last time she’d seen that look.

  Taylor was spoiling for a fight.

  She reached out and took the paper from him.

  The words weren’t legible, but the picture of her and the picture of Taylor were unmistakable. They were also taken while they had been incarcerated in Dr. John’s laboratory. Pictures taken during the experiments.

  Pictures that weren’t supposed to exist.

  Angelica swallowed hard, her hand convulsing on the paper, wadding it into a ball in her fist. “What does it say?”

  “You have a price on your heads.” Helga spat the words. “50 million Rupees for each of you, if alive. Or 20 million if you are... still warm.”

  “What’s that in U.S. money?” Angelica needed a reference. It sounded like a lot, but how much was “a lot?”

  Helga looked to Taylor, lost.

  “About a half million,” Taylor said, taking the paper from her and smoothing it out on the bed between them. “Nepalese Rupees run about 100 per U.S. dollar.”

  “Enough for a killer or kidnapper to retire and live like a king.” Helga’s body shook with fury.

  “Who would...?”

  Taylor pointed to the sole word on the page that she should have noticed herself. That she might have recognized if she’d been looking for it.

  “GRISELDA?”

  Taylor nodded. “And now they know we’re here.” He looked at Helga. “Or do they?”

  “Someone does. They will return.” She grinned suddenly, a very dark and feral grin. “Although that particular man will never tell a soul.”

  Taylor nodded.

  Angelica felt ill.

  “There is a very small amount of drug use in Nepal,” Helga said after a moment, her voice softening a little. “Mostly, the locals cannot afford it; it’s limited to the wealthy.” She looked out the window to distant fields. “But poppies grow easily here, as do other sources of drugs. There are organizations like this...” she waved at the paper, “everywhere in the world. They have eyes everywhere. I am afraid you were followed here.”

  “From the U.S.?” Angelica tried to reason that out. They’d been so careful.

  “From Africa I would guess,” Taylor said. “It’s obvious she had someone there. These pictures...” He rapped the paper with his knuckle. “Griselda will not quit. Ever.”

  “So what do we do?” Angelica looked between the two of them.

  Taylor and Helga were unusually quiet.

  Hiding under the blankets again was starting to sound better and better.

  Chapter 18

  By the time Helga left, Angelica was asleep. He didn’t blame her, the day catching up with her all in a rush. That was the problem with adrenaline—the aftermath left you weak as, well, a kitten.

  At least Taylor was able to let her get some sleep. So far he’d managed to push away inquiries from concerned individuals. No way in hell was he going to allow an inquisition though, truth be told, he still had plenty of questions himself. Not all of them directed at her.

  First was how they’d been found in the first place. The drive in had been long and winding, down paths that were barely rutted sometimes. Someone had to know precisely where the compound was. And from what he’d been able to see thus far, this was a place even the natives in Nepal avoided.

  Though, in a very confusing way, wasn’t this group considered natives now? Having been here nearly a thousand years?

  Thoughts like that made his brain hurt. And what talks that needed to come would have to be saved for later. Right now he had more biological needs to deal with, namely the pursuit of
food. It had been too long since they’d eaten, and after the trials of the day a hot meal would go a long way toward restoring their energy, and would better give them the means to deal with whatever was coming next. Because this obviously wasn’t over. Not by a longshot.

  Taylor ventured out, only to find the mealtime was ending, the leftovers in the process of being packaged and stored for later. He asked for two bowls of the stew, which they gave him, even if the action was a bit begrudging. On the way out of the kitchen he snagged a loaf of bread, and took the entire meal back with him to the room, juggling utensils and bowls awkwardly and wishing he’d thought to ask about a tray.

  The community was unusually quiet as he passed through the common areas. Maybe somber was a better word. They’d been in place for near a thousand years; would they have to run now, like his family had to? For the same reason—because he’d brought the evil to them?

  Yet he saw no resentment. If there was blame then they were either waiting to share it in discussion, which would likely come in the morning, or they truly faced life with more equanimity than he’d given them credit for. A couple of the women came after him, asking how Angelica was with eyes that were gentle, that reflected genuine concern. He answered that all was well, though in his heart he was unsure. She’d said little, and their communication lately had been lacking. Had he truly known how she’d felt since they left Minnesota? Or, for that matter, Africa? Lately he’d had the suspicion that he couldn’t do anything right, triggering a response that had left both him and his cat on edge.

  She’s frustrated. Scared and frustrated.

  But the rest? The basics he knew. It was the finer details, the nuances, that he missed. When had she closed herself off so thoroughly to him?

  He slipped into the room, letting the smell of the stew work its magic on her, rousing her from her dreams. She blinked in the dim light from the bathroom, the door being ajar. He reached past her to turn on the lamp on her bedside table, the bulb casting a dim glow that made her face seem shadowed and remote.

  “That smells heavenly.” Her whisper was deep, throaty. Nearly a purr. He set the bowl on her lap and took a spoonful and brought it to her lips. “I’m able to feed myself,” Angelica protested, laughing, but opened her mouth anyway and accepted the spoon. She closed her eyes as she chewed, her expression becoming beatific. “Oh, that is sublime. I definitely need more of that.”

  Taylor loaded up another spoonful, but she wrapped her hand around his. “Eat yours before it gets cold. I can feed myself.”

  Taylor nodded, mute and a little miffed that she’d shoved aside his attempt at tender romance, or at least of tender caregiving that might have been a prelude to romance, and retreated to the other side of the bed, sitting with his back against the wall. If he tore the bread in half with a touch more violence than was absolutely necessary to get the job done, well, who was he to say? He handed her half and concentrated on his own dinner, only now realizing how hungry he was.

  “I didn’t get hurt; you know that, right?”

  “I know.” He nodded, his voice quiet and terse. “I also know that you were out there alone because of me, because I was so pissed off.” He glanced over to her, wondering how to reach her. “You and I have been having issues,” he said after a moment. “Tempers, expectations...”

  “We’re being hunted,” Angelica temporized, waving a chunk of bread in the air as though swatting away his words. “By two factions no less, and one of those our own government! I think a little stress is a healthy reaction under the circumstances.”

  He set down the stew on his side table and put his hand on her leg, a gesture that had become familiar. Comforting. At least he hoped it was. “Be that as it may,” he murmured, bending toward her, inviting her to lean on his shoulder. “But if we’re being hunted, then we can’t be fighting. I suddenly realized I could have lost you today. I don’t want to lose you.”

  She sighed a little and bit her lip. “I’ve been there. I never want to lose you.” She carefully set the spoon down and wriggled until she had her head settled against his. “I happen to love you.”

  He shifted a little, moving his head so that she had to move hers, until their lips were millimeters apart. Her breath was warm on his cheek. “I love you, too.” He kissed her, once, tenderly, lips lingering in the briefest of touches. “And I won’t let them hurt you, no matter what they—”

  But his words were cut off by a knock on the door. Cursing the timing he turned his head to call out, feeling her draw away, settling again against her own pillow, putting space between them once again. Funny how she’d shifted all of three inches and felt a mile away.

  He bit back a curse as Olaf hesitantly opened the door.

  “He’s one of the ones that shifted,” Angelica murmured, and Taylor nodded. Then he owed Olaf thanks, for going after the unknown assailant, for being a part of the group that had kept her, kept all of them from danger.

  What’s more, Olaf was smiling. He apparently had good news. His grin went from ear to ear and it was almost impossible to not join in.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ll want to hear this. I was on the wireless and getting news from the BBC and I found out that a General Willette has been permanently relieved of duty. It appears the general had a bit of a breakdown. Apparently, it was leaked that he was mobilizing against a town of shape-shifters.” Olaf laughed, the sound ringing with the deep satisfaction of seeing someone get their just desserts. “He’s in a mental hospital right now, under evaluation.”

  Taylor smirked. “That sounds like Dad’s lawyers at work.”

  “Wait, it gets better,” Olaf said, holding up a hand to forestall comments. “This came out after evidence showed up linking him with a child trafficking ring out of Africa. Though, in a rather unofficial statement today, he maintained that they weren’t human to begin with, so it wasn’t illegal. His own lawyers shut him down pretty fast, but screenshots of various tweets make his position pretty clear, and have gone absolutely viral.”

  “He’s going to be away for a long time. It looks like justice has been served.” Angelica laughed, and for the first time in ages he saw the relief in her eyes. She didn’t look quite so haunted.

  Now if only Griselda could be dealt with as easily.

  Olaf waved his hands to get their attention. “There’s more! Your government is giving a great deal of money in recompense to your town for their unlawful invasion. And a formal apology has been issued on behalf of the U.S. government.”

  Taylor blinked. “Really?” His father’s lawyers were better than he’d thought.

  Olaf nodded, pleased at their stunned reactions. “Apparently, that woman who was killed in the invasion—”

  “Mrs. Petrov.”

  “Petrov, yes. Well, her heirs have filed a wrongful dead complaint.”

  “Wrongful death,” Angelica corrected automatically.

  Taylor blinked. “Wait, what heirs? She had no children.”

  “The town is acting as heirs,” Olaf said. “So your tiger town is going to be even richer.”

  Taylor shook his head. Money could never replace that life. Or the feeling of safety that had been ripped from them. Taylor’s family would never return to Minnesota. Though he supposed that the cash would go a long way toward setting up a new community elsewhere.

  It would take a long time before they felt secure, though.

  I did that. I took that from them.

  As though sensing where his thoughts were going, Angelica reached over and grabbed his arm. “Listen to me. Or to Olaf. You know what this means, right? Nothing is your fault. This was all on that general. Not you. It was his obsession that led to this. You did nothing wrong.”

  Olaf looked uncertainly from one to the other. “I should probably go. I’m only the messenger and it seems you have things to... discuss. I will likely be talking to your town tonight over the shortwave. I’ll come and get you at the appointed time, but it will likely be in the middle of the
night.”

  It was his fault that things had become so awkward. Taylor rose and went to clasp the man’s arm gratefully. “You bring good news. Thank you, Olaf.”

  Olaf gave a terse nod and disappeared out the door, closing it behind him so softly that it barely made a sound. Taylor realized then just how gracefully the other man moved, and wondered if perhaps he too had a closer relationship to his own cat than Taylor had realized.

  “I didn’t realize how much all of this was weighing on me,” Angelica said as the door closed behind Olaf. She shook her head and stared at the now-cold bowl of stew still in her hands.

  Taylor opened his mouth to speak and found that he couldn’t. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and finally he just shrugged and fell into more than sat in the chair nearest the door. Suddenly he was very tired. This whole day, the arguments, the news, the blame that had been on his shoulders had left him crumbled... no, shattered inside. He dropped his head into his hands. Even if Angelica was right, and the blame wasn’t his to carry, the outcome still was. His family would never be the same. A great woman had lost her life.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have prevented it somehow.

  His shoulders shook in silent sobs, the anguish so great that he could no longer hold it back. Eventually he became aware of Angelica kneeling on the floor next to him, her head pressed against his arm as she tried to peer up at him in concern. Her own eyes brimmed with unshed tears, not crying for the reasons that he was, but instead crying because he was. This, too, was overwhelming, but in a different way that brought a sweet ache to his heart. He brushed his hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears, trying to smile for her sake.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you okay?” Her head tilted to the side as she considered him.

  He touched her furrowed brow, trying to smooth the lines away with his thumb. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard to get past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I just...”

  Angelica spread his knees apart and sidled in between them, so that she could rest her head on his thigh. His breath caught in his throat as he reached to tangle his fingers in her hair. At least he tried to. It was his claws that got tangled, dark strands winding chaotically around his paw.