The Jaguar's Romance

by Emilia Hartley

  A man so tall he had to duck through the door stepped through the broken portal. Brazen as ever, Thorn smiled as he stalked into the house. “Surprised to see me, motherfucker?”

  Oscar had to marvel at his own plan. Blood’s very target would now prove his undoing. He suppressed a chuckle at the irony. Finally, after chasing his tail for days, everything had fallen into place.

  “You are a hard cuss to kill, I’ll grant you,” Blood said.

  Thorn balled up his enormous fists. “This time I’ll finish this.”

  And then, everything went pear shaped.

  “Fuck you.” With lightning speed, Elathan Blood whipped the pack from his shoulder and threw it full force into Thorn’s broken ribs.

  Thorn shouted, blood aspirating with the bellow. He clutched his injury and sagged to his knees. Blood was on him at once, boots kicking as Thorn struggled to cover up. The lumberjack went to the floor. Elathan lifted his boot to deliver a kick to the head.

  “Freeze!” Oscar shouted, aiming the gun.

  Blood whirled on him, ugliness in his eyes. “I was pretty sure I smelled exotic cat in these parts. Now I see I was just smelling pussy.”

  “Hands in the air.”

  Blood’s eyes remained furious even as he laughed. “Might be your cat could take my bear. But as a man, you’ll never take me. Especially not with that little toy gun.”

  Pistols had a unique scent, a mixture of oil and steel, spent cordite. Oscar knew it well. So did Blood. What he did not know was that this toy gun was loaded with special ammunition.

  Oscar fired. The gun made a tiny spit of sound. Blood jerked as the silver bead plowed into his skin. His voice came out a whisper. “What the fuck?”

  “You dare call me a pussy? A man who uses a woman to do his dirty work? It is over for you, Elathan Blood.”

  “Not hardly, Señor Pussy. That sow is mine, to do whatever I want with—whether that’s sucking me off or making her kill a man. Not that I need anyone to help me kill a man.” Blood started for Oscar.

  “No màs, Blood.” Oscar put another silver BB into him. The evil man gasped, clutching at a wound that could hardly be seen. But the silver was now in his body. Oscar closed with his prey. He could see the bear charm Thorn described hanging from the man’s neck. The little fetish had kept him in human form, unable to shift, to heal from his injuries. Now, Oscar had doubled down. The puta could not shift until the pellets were removed.

  “Silver?”

  It was a cat’s inclination to toy with its prey. Oscar could not resist. “Indeed. Shifters need not fear your incarceration now, Señor Blood. Go ahead and rave to the police about how you turn into a bear, how we all shift into wild animals. Perhaps you’ll be placed in an asylum for the criminally insane rather than prison.”

  “Fuck the law. They got nothing on me.” Blood’s words, though full of venom, issued softly from him. His voice was now that of an old man’s.

  “Ah, but they do. I let them take it from me. It is Sally’s cell phone. One with your fingerprints on it, no doubt. Even if you have never been printed before, you will be now. And you will be connected with the attempts on Thorn’s life. However much of your lifespan is left, it will be spent behind bars.”

  Blood’s eyes moved to Thorn, lying on the floor. Even as his limbs shook uncontrollably, a sinister smile creased his face. “Maybe it won’t be just attempts anymore. Maybe I finally got the motherfucker.”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” Thorn gasped.

  Oscar didn’t like the wet sound of Thorn’s voice, or the blood on the floor. This had to be wrapped up now. He put the pistol away and withdrew his cell phone. His thumb quickly tapped out 911.

  Blood surprised him. He grabbed something from his pack, and threw it. For a flash, a large, flexible hoop swirled through the air like a fabric Frisbee. Oscar barely got a decent look at it before it hit him. It unfolded over him as it dropped, leaving a net enclosing Oscar. His mind contracted in fear as his hands struggled wildly to throw the net off. The struggle only fully entangled him. A cord led from the hoop to Blood’s pack. The man grabbed hold of it, and tugged. Oscar felt the net go tight around his legs. Blood gave a fierce pull. Oscar crashed to the floor.

  At once, the palsy left Blood’s limbs. His voice came out full and strong. “Suckered you, Señor Pussy. I know you been looking into me. Didn’t you know how I make a living?”

  Oscar barely listened, struggling to free himself. His breath panted, heart pounding in his ears. The cat charged forward in his mind. As he tried to shift, the jaguar rebounded.

  “Oh, speaking of silver, that net’s got silver fibers woven into it. Pretty neat trick, right? The pattern is varied, so it tangles so much nicer.” Blood spoke as he walked over to a table near the door. With a mighty kick, he broke a heavy leg free. The piece toppled to the floor. Blood brandished the leg like a club.

  Oscar could not speak, could not think, could not move. Panic overwhelmed him, the net holding him fast. Elathan approached, smacking the bludgeon into his palm. Oscar tried to move away, pushing his feet against the floor and sliding backward.

  “Like I said, maybe your cat could take out my bear. But let’s see how well you stand up man-to-man.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As Sally shifted, going into attack mode, Iwalani Johnson stepped in front of Felicity.

  “Sally, stop!” the lawyer ordered.

  But Sally was too far gone. Her back arched, nose and mouth elongating, hands exploding into killing claws.

  Iwalani’s mouth suddenly opened wide, so wide that it seemed her head would fall in half. The whites of her eyes turned black. Hundreds of serrated teeth lined the gaping maw. Her skin turned a bluish gray, her face shoving out into a blunt snout.

  “I said stop!”

  A demon’s voice issued from that cave of killing teeth, deep, echoing, and filled with the chill of the deepest part of the ocean. This horrid visage so shocked Sally that she stopped in mid-shift. It was like Iwalani was becoming a great white shark. It freaked Sally out so badly that the bear fully retreated. Her jaw dropped. “What the fuck was that?”

  “My inner animal,” Iwalani became a willowy woman again, “is much scarier than most inner animals.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Sally shook her head to clear the horror from her brain. “Look, I didn’t send a message to Thorn. I didn’t kill him. I don’t want to fight you, Felicity, but if it comes to that, I’ll kick your ass up and down the parking lot.”

  “You—” Felicity’s brows knitted, her head rocking back in surprise.

  “Oscar wanted me to go on the lam. To hide in the woods as a bear. But I’m not doing it anymore. It’s boring, and there’s nothing to eat, so fuck that noise.”

  Iwalani opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Sally buttoned up her shirt. “What I want to know is, with all the cops out looking for me, and my face plastered all over the TV news, how the hell is it that you two found me here?”

  Finally gathering herself, Iwalani answered. “I have a sixth sense. In sharks it’s called electroreception. I can use it to track down shifters. It’s how I knew you were in distress, and where to find you when you were arrested.”

  “Really?” Sally asked.

  Felicity shrugged. “Yes, it’s true. I’ve seen it work a bunch of times.”

  “So why the fuck don’t you track down Elathan Blood?” Sally poked the lawyer in the shoulder.

  Taken aback, Iwalani glanced at Felicity. The cat shifter shrugged. The attorney cleared her throat. “I, uh, I can’t. I haven’t been able to locate him. Believe me, if I could’ve saved us all the trouble, I would have.”

  “Why not? You found me just fine.”

  Iwalani held her palms up. “I don’t know. It’s like he’s camouflaging himself somehow. Felicity told me that when Blood first started stalking Thorn, none of the shifters detected his presence. I’m sure it’s related. He has some sort of shield against my senses.”
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  An idea sprang into Sally’s head. She knew of something that made her look away, as if by magic. The doors in the farmhouse cellar were like that. Obviously, she knew they were there, but it made her kind of sick to look at them. She never once gave any thought to what might be on the other side.

  Felicity interrupted her train of thought. “We need you to tell us where Oscar is.”

  “Oscar?” Sally gaped at the tall, beautiful woman, seeing nothing but a cold exterior. “What are you even doing here? Thorn is dead. You should be grieving. At the very least, you could wear something black. I mean, I get the ice princess thing, but really? I thought you loved him.”

  She folded her arms beneath her perfect breasts. “I do love him, Sally. But he’s not dead.”

  Sally’s eyes goggled. “What?” she managed.

  Iwalani nodded. “He wasn’t killed in that explosion. I would have known.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Anger flared in Sally. She’d been dumped in the woods like a toddler given a time out. She’d endured armed dopers, hunger, cold, and extreme boredom. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Thorn didn’t die. If I know Oscar, I suspect he’s using Thorn, or Thorn’s death, as bait for a trap. But I’ve lost track of both of them. If you have any idea where they are, you need to tell me.”

  “Lost track?” Sally gave her the stink eye. “Maybe your electrophoresis—”

  “Electroreception,” Iwalani corrected.

  “Whatever!” Sally shouted at the ceiling. “Maybe it only works part of the time. First, you can’t find Blood, now you can’t find Oscar or Thorn. I mean, what good is it?”

  Iwalani squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled through her nose. “If Elathan Blood can hide himself from our enhanced senses, he may be able to hide others. Or perhaps being in close proximity to him camouflages other shifters. I don’t know. What I do know is that, either way, it seems that both Oscar and Thorn are in danger.”

  “Please, Sally, if you know anything, you have to tell us. We have to get to them as fast as possible,” Felicity pleaded.

  Sally understood that by “we,” Felicity meant herself and Iwalani. Sally, a novice shifter, would be left behind. She didn’t like admitting it, for fear of the pain it would inevitably cause her, but she was in love with Oscar. Even as pissed off at him as she currently was, the beautiful, sweet-talking womanizer had a firm grip on her heart. If he was in danger, she would go to him. She could do nothing else.

  And she did have an idea—a pretty good idea—where he might be. Behind those doors, those creepy doors that seemed able to give you a bad disease just by wondering about them too hard. “Okay,” she said.

  “Where do you think he is?” Iwalani prompted.

  Sally sighed. And lied. “There’s this cave a few miles upstream from the sawmill, the one that blew up. I’m pretty sure it’s Blood’s hideout. Oscar checked it out. He said he could sense Blood staying there, but he said it must have been a long time ago. If he can hide from your electro-whatever, could he hide from Oscar’s cat senses?”

  The lie was lame, but Sally dressed it up with some shifter theory to bait the born were-creatures. Iwalani took the hook like the fish-monster she was. “We’d better check it out. Sally, stay here. Stay out of sight. You’re not in the clear yet. The last thing we need is you getting arrested.”

  She and Felicity ducked out. The cat shifter turned to Sally. “Thanks, Sally. Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

  “My ass,” Sally said when she was out of earshot. Of course, Felicity had cat-hearing, so Sally actually waited until she heard two car doors closing before speaking. She was going after Oscar herself, both to save his ass, and to give her a piece of her mind. Before she got out the door, Billy the motel manager shuffled up.

  “Hey, I’ve been getting complaints about an argument from our guests,” he addressed her chest. “It’s kinda late. You might want to keep the noise down.”

  Sally had an idea. “Do you own a car, Billy?”

  “What?” he asked her boobs.

  Sally put a finger under his chin and lifted his head. “I’m up here, Bill.”

  Dazed eyes met hers. “Huh?”

  “Do. You. Own. A. Car. A truck. A motorized vehicle.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Good. I need it. Give me the keys.”

  Half laughing, although his eyes went twitchy, he said, “I don’t even know you.”

  “That’s right. You don’t. Listen, Bill, I’m much more than a pair of enormous tits. I’m a fugitive from the law. I’m wanted for murder. Now give me your keys and point me to your car. When you call the cops, tell them I’m going home.”

  Billy’s jaw dropped. He blinked at her. When Sally turned her palm up, his shoulders dropped. He fished the keys from his jeans and handed them over.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The strangling net holding him fast became much less of a concern as Blood stalked toward Oscar, club raised. A few feet away, he saw the screen on his cell phone--911. He had not had time to push the send button. The screen winked off.

  “Ain’t nobody coming to save your sorry ass.”

  Oscar tried to scoot away. Sweat ran down his sides. He had to force himself not to twist and writhe. The net was not coming off. He managed to gasp, “No, but they will come for you. What will you do now? You can no longer shift. The police have your fingerprints.”

  “The plan’s pretty simple. Bash your brains in. Then Thorn’s. I’ll have my bitch bury your bodies in the woods. If she hasn’t been arrested already.” Blood lifted the table leg high over his head.

  Thorn lay on the floor, clutching his ribs. Oscar hoped that he was playing possum, waiting for Blood to be distracted enough to attack. But no, the big man looked fully incapacitated. Unable to do more than stare at his impending death, Oscar said, “What has gone missing from that chamber?”

  Blood hesitated.

  Oscar hurried on. “I’ve been told a lot of stories. How you want Thorn dead so that his mother will return to you. Infanticide, so that you may become apex predator. Most of that is nonsense. Still, I think you do want her back, but not for unrequited love.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” Blood said. Yet he lowered the club. “You don’t know shit, do you gumshoe?”

  Trying not to let panic return, Oscar did his best to relax his bound body, to ease the tension of the cinching net. “Someone put a spell on those doors in the cellar. On that hatch below the sawmill. There must have been something valuable in that chamber for you to go to so much trouble. You do not strike me as a man who dabbles in magic. Even if you are an ancient soul, you are fully grounded in the material world.

  “It is my belief that you needed Thorn’s mother to return only to unlock those doors. Whatever she is, she must be a rare creature indeed. How to predict her behavior? She is not like us, not a cat or a bear. Still, you had to do this thing to instinctively draw her back here.

  “That is, until your booby trap unsealed that door from the mill. You came to see your work completed, to make sure Thorn was dead. Instead, you saw the door, damaged, accessible. Tonight you came to claim your prize. But it wasn’t there. What was it? Gold?”

  Blood’s stare pinned him to the ground. At least Oscar had enough of his attention that he wasn’t swinging the club. “You got this all backward, gumshoe. Me and Thorn’s pappy had a deal. The man broke it. Now his son, his granddaughter, gotta pay that debt.”

  “The cellar below is much older than this house, the tunnel and chamber even more ancient. You knew there was something valuable buried, yet you sold this plot of land to Sally’s grandfather. Did you urge him to build the house over the chamber? That was part of the deal you had. The two of you were working together. You were trying to lure Thorn’s mother. She is the one who can open the doors. Instead, the two of them fell in love. Suddenly, that man had money to pay his doctors, to build this beautiful house, the sawmill, and the bar. She had opened t
he doors for him, cutting you out.”

  To Oscar’s surprise, Blood laughed long and hard. “That’s one hell of a theory you got going there. But I don’t give a damn about them two falling in love. Hell, it just made things easier.”

  “Your usual modus operandi,” Oscar said. “You were using Thorn’s father the same way you are using Thorn—as bait.”

  Blood gave a thoughtful nod, lower lip thrust out. “Well, you got that part right, at least.”

  “You suck,” Thorn managed.

  “Much as I prefer to keep your blood off my hands, I believe circumstances make that impossible now.”

  The blunt end of the table leg crashed into Oscar’s jaw. He never even saw it coming. Vision swimming, he watched Blood crouch over him. A few moments’ struggle freed the air pistol from the shoulder rig.

  Armed, Elathan Blood paced toward Thorn.

  “Get up, you sorry sack of shit. I know you ain’t hurt that bad. I know what a dying man smells like.”

  When Blood’s focus left him, Oscar examined the net. His own fear had ensnared him. Shrugging his shoulders, wiggling his arms, he maneuvered until the net lay over him like a blanket. Below his knees, a ratchet held the rope tight. If he could loosen it, he could free his legs. Perhaps he could even throw the net off and charge Blood.

  The armed man moved closer to Thorn. “I know what you’re thinking, because I’ve been in this situation. Man points a gun at me and orders me around, I say, ‘fuck you, shoot me.’ I’m a shifter. Been shot lots of times. Don’t make no matter.”

  Oscar struggled to a sitting position. Fumbling, he managed to get his thumb on the catch of the ratchet. He spread his legs, opening the bottom of the net. The tricky part would be pulling the net back over him while his hands and arms were tangled.

  “This is something of a cliché, but I’ve felt the silver ammo from this thing.” Blood laughed. “Silver and shifters, what a joke, right? But you’re figuring you can fight your way out of this. You got hope. I’m counting on that.”