Blood of the Pride

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Blood of the Pride Page 23

by Sheryl Nantus


  I spotted a thin line of blood working its way down the side of Bran’s hand onto the counter. Every instinct screamed at me to get up, to launch myself at Tony right then and there, and hang the consequences. But I had to have faith in Bran’s ability to defend himself and I knew my time would come.

  “I hear you.” Bran nodded. He looked down at the hand pressing his wrist into the counter. “Dude, I ain’t going nowhere. Lighten up.”

  Tony looked down. He lifted his hand up a fraction, keeping Bran’s left wrist trapped.

  “So she said no,” Bran continued. “And you got mad.”

  “She shouldn’t have said no, not like that.” Tony shook his head again, the greasy strands flying around his face. “I want to talk to her, find things out and she’s all ‘no, I have to go’ and babbling ’bout rules and how she can’t tell me anything, can’t tell me nothing ’bout what I am, what she is. She starts heading out of the alley and I know I’ll never see her again. She’s going to turn me in to the cops, to the docs, to whoever wants a piece of me.”

  “You grabbed her.” Bran nudged the conversation forward.

  The teenager grunted. “Look, it wasn’t supposed to go that way.” He pushed the coffee cup around in a circle. “She was scared and in a rush and I was pissed and angry and knew if I let her just go, just go like that, I’d be fucked.” He brushed away a thick lock of hair and released Bran’s hand. “I don’t know what happened. I mean, we were just talking and then…” Tony shook his head again. “I just grabbed her neck, just wanted to show her that I was serious, that. I was worthy, you know? And then I just, I just lost it.” The last few words came in a soft whine. Part of me ached for his lost youth, ripped bare in a second of fury against Janey, against the system keeping our secret.

  “Why’d ya take the picture?” Bran prompted.

  Tony tapped on the cell phone screen a few times before laying it down in front of Bran. I could imagine what they were looking at.

  “My mistake. Their mistake.”

  “Them who?”

  “Whoever made me like this.” Tony held up his free hand, wriggling his fingers. “I know someone knows who I am, what made me like this.”

  “So you dropped this at my place in a cry for help?”

  He shrugged. “You’re a reporter. I figured you’d report it and there’d be some sort of follow-up story, someone investigating what she was, digging up the truth. What I am. Give me some answers ’cause I didn’t have any.”

  “I know you feel bad about that. Guilty as all hell. Wasn’t what you wanted.” Bran’s voice carried through the air as I popped one of the macaroni bites into my mouth.

  Kolanski’s head bobbed slowly, reminding me of those small glass birds that were all the rage years ago. The red fluid went only so far up the neck then the bird would fall forward, bounce for a second or two, returning to his original position, going on as long as you let it.

  The breeze abruptly shifted, the front door flying open with the arrival of a gang of teenagers yelling and cajoling each other about some high score on a video game. Right back at the two men.

  Tony’s head lifted, nose skyward. His eyes widened as his hand pressed down on Bran’s wrist. The first small tufts of fur began to spread across the back of his hand, the claws protruding from between his knuckles. He jerked his head to one side and stared at me, then turned back to Bran.

  “You’re with her.” It wasn’t a question.

  Brandon nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.” He continued to speak, his words carefully chosen and slowly spoken. “She wants to help you. We want to help you.” A long pause. “Why did you attack her? You wanted help and she’s like you.”

  Tony growled, his attention going back and forth between the two of us. “She can’t change. I told her to and she can’t change. She ain’t like me.”

  “You know she is. You smelled her when you broke into her house and assaulted her.” Bran kept his tone neutral. “She’s not a cop, she’s a P.I. investigating the murder.

  “She’s still a cop, just a private one.” Tony looked down between his legs at the tiled floor. “I’m not going into a cage for the rest of my life for an accident. I don’t care what she is, I wanted to scare her off.”

  “She doesn’t scare easily.” Bran glanced over in my direction with a smirk.

  “She tried to kill me in the alley.”

  “I doubt that,” Bran murmured as if he were smoothing ointment over a fresh wound. “She wanted to help you find out who you are. Your real father, your heritage.”

  Tony drew a sharp breath. I could see the emotions running through his face, one surfacing to rule the others.

  Rage. Pure Felis rage.

  Tony’s face began to shift, the skin reshaping itself to allow the flatter nose, the small facial hairs sprouting free and turning a light tawny color as they travelled across his jaw and neck.

  “I know what I am now. And I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  Kolanski let out a leonine roar, pushing the stool back from the counter and standing up. He grabbed Bran by the trapped right wrist and tossed him at me with all his strength, picking him off his feet and throwing him like a rag doll.

  Bran slammed into my table, and by default, me, like the classic ton of bricks. We crashed to the floor in a pile of kindling and soda, a few mac and cheese balls scattering around us like chaff.

  Tony raced out the door as I struggled to get back on my feet, pulling Bran with me. Bran shook his head. “Guess that class in negotiations really wasn’t worth the B I got.” His eyes went to the spilled snack. “Oh, man… I was looking forward to those.”

  “We’ll be back.” I scrambled over the debris and raced out, not looking back to see if Bran was behind me. Tony was now fully Changed and in public view—Jess would kill him for that alone.

  The long shadows stretching across the street signaled the approaching evening, something I was grateful for while I sprinted after the teenager. If we were lucky someone would take him for a costumed clown on his way to the latest birthday party or some sort of frat prank—not one of Brandon’s “freaks” wandering the streets of Toronto.

  Tony cut the street corner so sharply I almost skidded off the cement into traffic, my running shoes screaming to try and keep their traction on the sidewalk. At the back of my mind I noted that he was heading, of all places, for his house. No matter how old you are or where you are or what you think, there’s no place like home. Except in this case it wasn’t going to be the sanctuary he was hoping for.

  Sure enough, as we reached the edge of the playground I caught Jess’s scent, fresh and nearby. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about.

  The playground equipment stood in the center of the sand-filled oval, the faux wood and garishly colored plastic pipes warped and shaped for safety. A varnished rope net hung off of one side of the turret for children to climb up and play on. Tony leaped up onto the shiny metal slide and scurried to the top of the tower. He spun around and glared at me as I pulled up just short, my toes digging into the sand.

  “Don’t you judge me.” His eyes were wide as he pointed at me. “Don’t you even try to judge me.”

  I put up my hand. “Dude, you are so not talking to the right person about that.” Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jess, a slim shadow in the patch of trees to my right and behind the frazzled teenager. “You’ve got to get some help.” Putting my hand up, palm out, I continued. “Just calm down, pull it together and we’ll talk. There’s nothing here that can’t be fixed.”

  “I’m a fucking freak.” The plaintive cry tore at my ears. He bent backward and let out a cross between a roar and a scream.

  I winced. There was only so much the neighbors were going to put up with before they called the cops to report the disturbance and, well, we knew where that was going to lead. Even if they didn’t link him to Janey’s death, yelping something like that was bound to get someone’s attention.

  “Tony, come on down.” Bran ap
peared behind me, breathless. Seems he wasn’t in as fine a condition as he thought he was. “Let them help you.” His hair was askew, his face scarlet from the short run. “They understand. They’re just like you. Give them a chance to make things right before it’s too late.”

  Jess stepped out of the darkness, still in human form. She took a long drag on the half-burned cigarette in her hand and blew smoke rings into the air as she walked onto the playground. Her cowboy boots reverberated on the old railroad ties before sinking into the sand.

  She looked up at the teenager then over at me, and Bran, before returning her attention to the kid. “Turn it off, Tony.” The low rumbling tone came from the bottom of her toes, sending a shiver up my spine. “Get skin again. Right now.”

  Kolanski stared at Jess for a second, a thin string of drool running out of one side of his mouth. It ran out onto the end of one of the fine whispers before dropping down into the sand. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Jess shrugged. “Someone you should listen to.” She took one last puff on the cigarette before bending one leg and putting the stub out on the bottom of her boot.

  “Littering. It’s not good.” She tucked the dead butt into a front pocket, not taking her eyes off of the teenager. “I said, dump the fur. Now.” The last word wasn’t a request. I remembered the tone from many a training session back on the farm.

  “Damn, she’s good,” Bran whispered in my ear, one hand on my shoulder. “I’m trying to Change back right now, I’m so scared.” I could tell by the tone in his voice he wasn’t joking.

  “You should be,” I said in a stage whisper without taking my eyes off the young man perched at the top of the turret.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Tony was still in full Change.

  Jess shook her head. “Kid, you need a lesson in control. You need a lot of lessons, but we’ll start with this one.” She pointed a finger at the ground right in front of her. “Down. Now. And Change back.”

  Tony laughed, a purring tilt to his voice. He crouched and pointed a furred finger at the older woman with claws fully extended. “You want to go, bitch? I don’t think you’d be much of a challenge.” He nodded toward me. “You want to put me in a cage. Not gonna happen.” His lips peeled back, exposing bright, white canines. “Not gonna happen.”

  Jess shrugged. “Your call, kit. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She glanced around the playground. Time wasn’t going to be on our side forever and each second Tony stayed in full Change was a second closer to the Felis being discovered.

  Jess rolled her shoulders back, closing her eyes and let out a long hiss of air. Then she Changed, faster than I had ever seen before.

  The white hair on her head blended perfectly with the light fur on her face, her hands furring up with claws shooting out so fast I winced at the pain. Her nose retreated into her face just slightly, enough to accentuate the long fangs pressing out against her lips. She pulled them back in a vicious smile at the teenager.

  The shocked look on the kid’s face was, in a sad way, welcome. Here was one of his own family, one of his extended bloodline. The question was, would he accept Jess’s authority without a fight?

  The answer came as Kolanski launched himself off the top of the tower with a half cry, half roar. His leather jacket flew open, flapping in the air and exposing the threadbare T-shirt covering his chest.

  Chapter 20

  Jess took up a defensive position, not moving an inch. She bent her knees slightly, dropping a fraction with her hands at her sides—palms up and claws ready, her fingers half-closed to allow the sharp nails total freedom. Her pupils had changed to the slitted feline view with her nose twitching as the musky scent of the attacker crashed over the two of us.

  Bran took a step forward. I slammed my forearm into his chest, pushing him back and behind me. I exhaled, feeling the blood start to pound loudly in my ears.

  Tony crashed into Jess at about shoulder level, reaching out to grab at her. Jess turned to the left as if it had been choreographed, tossing the kit to the ground with a resounding thump.

  He rolled to his feet with astonishing speed. I’d forgotten how fast we could be when we’re young.

  Grabbing Jess with an angry yell, he grappled with the Board member, both of them searching for a good grip to toss the other to the ground. The claws ripped into Tony’s leather jacket, matched by his return attack through Jess’s jean shirt. Blood began to show through the tears. The smell hit my nose like a firecracker blast, ratcheting my senses up another level.

  Jess wasn’t a fool. You didn’t get to her age and level in the Pride without having a few tricks up your sleeve. Tony’s claws were now firmly imbedded in her arms and trapped there as she pulled and shoved, not letting him pull them out. It must have hurt like hell, but it effectively neutralized the kid’s attack.

  Tony’s eyes went wide as he felt himself losing control.

  Jess hit him three times, smashing his nose hard. She didn’t gouge his face, instead letting the raw power of her punch do the damage. “Surrender now. Give it up,” she hissed at the startled Felis.

  In response Tony yanked his claws free, ripping long gouges in Jess’s skin.

  He jumped to one side, landing behind Bran. I turned toward him but he was too fast, too hyper in his anger and rage.

  Tony pushed me to the ground and grabbed Bran. He put his bloody claws to Bran’s throat.

  Jess’s pounce stopped in midair. She landed beside me in the soft sand, dropping to one knee as she stared at the kid.

  “Don’t do it.” Her voice was strangely soft and still threatening. “There’s been enough killing.”

  Tony had one hand on Bran’s forehead, yanking his head back as a push brought Bran to his knees. I could see the jugular pulsing, fractions of an inch from Tony’s claws.

  “What are you going to do, eh?” The kid glanced down at Bran and then back at the two of us. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do—you’re going to let me walk out of here.” He tugged at Bran’s hair, hard. “Unless you don’t care about another dead body.”

  “Come on, Tony.” Bran’s hoarse whisper reached our ears, barely decipherable. “You’re smarter than this. You know this isn’t going to work.”

  The teenager shook his head, yanking back on Bran’s short hair again. “I don’t know nothing other than I’m a freak.” The sharp nails danced dangerously close to the pulsing skin, scraping across the top layer. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Tony.” I stepped forward, keeping my hands at my sides. “You’re a Felis. Jess here is the leader of the Pride that your father belongs to. Your real father.” I drew in a deep breath, watching the two closely, Tony’s eyes locked with mine—still defiant.

  My fingers pulled into a fist, my nails digging into my palm as I continued. “You need help.” I glanced at Jess for a fast second. “She’s the one to give it to you.”

  “She’s going to kill me.” Tears began to flow down Tony’s furred cheeks. “She’s going to kill me. I killed Mrs. Winters and now she’s going to kill me.”

  “No,” Jess replied. “If I wanted to kill you you’d be dead already.” She nodded sideways. “Ask her. She knows.”

  The ancient scars on my back sent off phantom waves of pain. “She’s right. You’re not all that, kid.” I shuffled forward an inch. “Come on, let the guy go. He’s been nice to you. Don’t do something else that you’re going to regret.”

  “Don’t move,” Tony screamed, his eyes as wide as they could go, the pupils flashing an eerie green in the dying daylight. Confusion was written all over his furred face. Here he’d found his family and he was caught between fearing us and needing us.

  My claws begin to slip out slowly, edging through the newly healed skin between my knuckles. My jaw clenched as I tried not to show the pain. Bran looked at me, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  “Don’t move or he dies,” the rogue screamed again, the claws now pressing hard on Bran
’s throat. A thin scarlet line began to form as the blood trickled down, disappearing under his shirt. My nose twitched, processing the new scent.

  I drew in a sharp breath, letting it out as a growl. Bran’s eyes went to the size of saucers as he stared at me, a mixture of pride and fear in them. Glancing from Jess to me to Jess again Tony came back to look at me with a strange expression on his face, one of fear and curiosity.

  The world changed. Colors became clearer, the brightness of the playground equipment singing to me. The shadows beckoned me into the cool safety and calmness of the night. The scents of the people around me jumped into vivid clarity. Someone was cooking a cake two blocks over, hot dogs burning on a grill nearby, a couple making love in an upstairs bedroom.

  I had Changed. For the first time in over twenty years.

  And I was pissed.

  I let out a roar and leaped at the startled teenager. In my mind’s eye I knew this was what Janey Winters had done in the last few minutes of her life. She fought for what she loved—her kids and her husband, to get back to them.

  I was fighting for Bran.

  Tony released Bran as I crashed into the pair. He turned to run but I grabbed the kid by the shoulders and slammed him to the ground, moving in to take control. As I straddled the kid, Bran scrambled away, one hand on his cut neck.

  “Fuck you.” Tony yelled as he swung at me in an eerie reversal of our first meeting. His paw landed on the left side of my face, the nails digging into my cheek.

  I slapped it away before he could get in too deep and clubbed him in the side of the head. His left ear began to swell like the proverbial cauliflower, throbbing red through the greasy black hair. I landed another punch to his already sore nose.

  He bucked his hips, trying to unseat me, except I had been here too many times before and I wasn’t going to be tossed off that easily. I dug my knees into his ribs and continued to smack him around, letting my nails just scrape the skin.

 

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