Touch of Evil

by C. T. Adams

  Hallo, Tiger. Was ist Ihr Name?

  Tahira looked up and around. Nobody was in the room. She glanced at the barred window, but the sunshine was blinding to her sensitive eyes. The language was the same as she was hearing outside the door, but she didn’t understand where it was coming from. Was there a microphone in the room?

  Parlez-vous le français, le Tigre de Madame?

  Was that French? Tahira shook her massive head. If she was starting to talk to herself in delirium, shouldn’t she at least be able to understand the language? She growled again, and a startled yipe followed when her jaw snapped. It was starting. She couldn’t hold it off anymore. She was going to change right here in front of witnesses and her family would be hunted like rabbits and slaughtered.

  Do you speak English, tiger? We’re running out of time!”

  For heaven’s sake! The voice was in her head! There was a distinct American accent to his words and relief flowed through her. She tried to think of what to say. Well, not quite say. She thought the words in her mind. Uhm, yes—I speak English. Where are you? Who are you?

  Merde! At last! My name is Antoine and I’m in the outer room. Listen to me carefully. You are Sazi, correct?

  Her head raised in unconscious reaction and she roared loud and long. I am not Sazi! I am Tahira of Hayalet Kabile!

  The guards in the outer room with Antoine jumped with the tiger’s roar. Hayalet Kabile. Where had he heard that phrase before? Hayal . . . Oh for the love of—How could he forget? It was just mentioned at the last council meeting. The Hayalet Kabile were known as the “Ghost Tribe.” The weretigers that lived along the Turkish/Iranian borderlands had declined to attend the great meeting of shapeshifters all those centuries ago. They were mentioned at the Sazi council meeting because Ahmad had brought along a clipping from the Discovery Channel Web site that said there had been a sighting of a supposedly “extinct” species of tiger, the Caspian, just last fall. The annoying werecobra, representative for the snakes, had asked what Antoine intended to do about it, since the Caspians were well known to be shifters, and he was the representative for the cats.

  But the Hayalet Sahip, the head of the tribe, had refused an invitation to talk. Now there was one in the next room. Based on the roar of pain, she wouldn’t be able to hold her form much longer. She was about to break the primary rule of both the Sazi and the Hayalet cultures. What a diplomatic nightmare!

  “Merde!” he whispered harshly.

  “Did you say something, Herr Mother?” Kommissar Reiner said, his mouth curled slightly in disdain. “Are you ready to make your identification of your cat?”

  Antoine drummed his fingers on the table sharply. If he could only talk to the tiger—make her understand what was at stake. . . . Yes, perhaps. He turned sharply and reached for the doorknob, startling the inspector. “One moment, Kommissar. I’ve forgotten . . . my . . . uh, I’ll be right back!”

  He raced outside and pressed outward quickly with his waning magic. The tiger was directly under him.

  Tahira, please listen to me. We don’t have much time.

  No response. But he could smell her fear, just behind the bars of the window.

  Tahira of the Hayalet Kabile. I am Antoine Monier of the Sazi. Will you please speak to me? You are in great danger.

  Another roar, powerful and haughty. You need not worry about me, Sazi. I will end my own life before the humans see me in my day form.

  This doesn’t have to happen, Tahira. I can help you. I’ve convinced the police that you’re one of my tigers. But I need your cooperation

  A snort of derision, but hope was replacing the fear. And who are you that you believe you can own a tiger?

  Antoine walked out toward the van. A pair of pigeons pecking at gravel exploded into the air just as he reached the door. He managed to stop himself from automatically leaping into the air after them. It’s a complicated story, Tahira. But I and my cats entertain in shows all over the world. One of my tigers, Simon, was killed in the woods where you were held. But I have another Bengal named Babette. She just had kittens. I’ve convinced them that you are Babette.

  Her voice sounded suspicious but intrigued. But even a human can tell the difference between a nursing and non-nursing tiger. Uhm . . . can’t they?

  Antoine opened the van door and reached inside to grab a clipboard. He flipped his long braid back before swinging the door closed. He smiled and paced quickly along the edge of the carefully cleared walkway, expanding on his daring plan. I don’t know many humans who are willing to get close enough to check. But I’m an alpha, and have excellent illusion abilities. It would help if have any other identifying marks—perhaps ones that the officers have already seen? I promise that once the police have released you and are no longer watching, I will get you back to your Kabile—your tribe.

  Her soft alto was sad. I will be dead to them. I’m already an outsider. I disappeared without permission, trying to save my brother. But I didn’t find him, and now I have bargained with a Sazi. I will be exiled . . . or killed.

  She planned to cooperate. Thank heavens. A crunch of gravel behind him said another vehicle was arriving. He turned to see the occupants. Several of the members of the team from the forest were returning and he was out of time. So you will allow me to assist you? The moon magic is nearly gone, but my power can hold you in form—if you’ll allow me to. But I need something to identify you.

  I . . . you can hold someone past the dawn? But only sahibs hold that much power! Still . . . if you believe you can—I am missing part of my left ear.

  Curious. What could have damaged a Saz—a shapeshifter enough . . . A touch on Antoine’s shoulder made him jump. Annoying that he hadn’t heard or smelled the inspector walk up behind him. Distractions could be costly at this stage. “Herr Monier? Are you quite ready? The zoo is now open and if the cat is not yours, we must make a call to them.”

  “Yes, of course, inspector. Sorry for the delay.” As he followed the inspector through the door, he threw a burst of magic ahead of him. He felt it penetrate the steel door in front of him and cover the tiger in the cage. The illusion was subtle, but he had to cast it broadly. Even Tahira would be able to see it when the time came. But he felt her shifting stop.

  “How might we identify your tiger, Herr Mother?”

  “There are several ways.” He thrust the clipboard toward the inspector with feigned annoyance. “These are the customs forms for my animals. I thought you would want to see that I do indeed have a female Bengal with kittens.”

  Kommissar Reiner shuffled through the papers that Antoine recognized as the bill of lading, and confirmed for himself that Antoine had several different species of cats, in both genders. And, yes, there was a female Bengal. “There are no identifying features mentioned on this form.”

  Antoine forced his voice into a slightly condescending tone. “No, there are not, Kommissar Reiner. As you can see, there is nowhere on the form to insert them. It might be something to consider mentioning to the appropriate department. But, Babette—my female—is missing a piece of her left ear. And, as I said, she recently gave birth and is nursing.”

  He stared blankly at a print of a famous painting on the wall as the Kommissar questioned his men. No, they didn’t notice whether the cat was nursing. That would require far too intimate contact. Even the dart didn’t put the cat completely under. Yes, there was part of the left ear missing. It was in the report. Antoine suppressed a smile as the inspector reviewed the form.

  The Kommissar smelled disappointed to find the written note about the defective ear on the paper, but he dutifully cleared his throat and removed a large ring of keys from his pocket. “It appears we are in possession of your tiger, Herr Monier. But I would like to see for myself that the cat is nursing. Tigers often fight in the wild and in captivity, so a damaged ear is not terribly—”

  “Uncommon?” asked Antoine, with a sly smile. He really doesn’t want to let me win. But I already have. Thank God. He concentrated
on Babette and the cubs, let the memory of watching her nurse fill him until it was fixed in his mind. He felt for Tahira in the next room and let his magic bleed outward, blur the image of her belly until it matched the one in his mind. He shivered as the magic tied them together. He could almost see her in his mind now.

  Reiner raised his brows. “Indeed.” He swung open the steel door on oiled hinges and held it open so that Antoine could enter first. The negative pressure fan that kept the parking lot exhaust from filling the room assaulted Antoine’s ears and he wondered how Tahira had managed to stay sane.

  He stepped inside and got his first look at the woman, the tiger, he was helping. Her wide golden eyes looked startled as she inspected her chest and stomach. A burst of surprised scent quickly disappeared into the fan’s flow. Antoine’s followed the stare and he swore under his breath. He’d said it himself! She was a Caspian tiger, and that particular subspecies has a mane similar to a lion’s with long belly fur.

  Before the Kommissar could get past him to see, Antoine concentrated carefully and blended the memory with the reality, like melting photographs into a single image.

  He could see her surprise as her body betrayed her eyes. It was only when she ran her own nose over her fur that the illusion was dispelled. She froze when he spoke into her mind again.

  You will need to greet me as though we are friends, and—He felt embarrassed to say the next words, but it had to be done. Well . . . I will also—and I do apologize—but I will have to touch your stomach to prove to the inspector that you are nursing.

  Tahira started at the statement and immediately looked up. She felt her heartbeat race when she finally saw her benefactor. He was incredibly handsome, slender and fit. His blond hair was slicked back from his face, and the confident green-gold eyes grabbed her attention. He was so very young looking! Could he really be a sahip at such an age?

  Then she looked more carefully. No, perhaps not so young. His heart-shaped jaw did bear a small golden beard, just covering his chin, and small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes made him at least in his late twenties. The eyes sparkled when he continued. I normally wouldn’t ask—, came his voice, But I don’t think the Kommissar will believe you are mine otherwise.

  What he suggested did make sense. But he would have to put his hands on her naked chest. The form didn’t matter, and he very well knew it! She would have frowned in her human form because he didn’t seem too upset by the idea, either. But as a tiger all she could do was glare and pull back her lips in displeasure.

  But one glance at the officer with him, the Kommissar, put the matter to rest. The narrow face was cold and his dark eyes serious and suspicious. There would be no discussion about the issue. He would have to see the evidence for himself, just as her Father would. Nobody else’s word would do. But then a thought occurred to her. She hated that the words came out sounding a bit desperate.

  If I am supposed to be a performing cat in your show, shouldn’t I be able to obey commands? Couldn’t you instruct me to roll over, or something like that?

  She was a little annoyed when he chuckled. No doubt she smelled distinctly of embarrassment and fear. But his reply was polite and professional.

  Is there room in there? I am quite certain that the Kommissar will not let you out of the cage, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

  Tahira looked around and realized the Sazi was correct. There was barely room to stand and no room to make a full turn. If she tried to roll onto her back, she would be stuck there. No, I suppose there isn’t. But do only what you must—I warn you!

  He dipped his head slightly into a bow and remained serious, but his scent said something else entirely. He was amused at her discomfort. As you wish, my lady. He walked toward the cage with Reiner at his heels. She could hear his heart pound as he got closer, and she struggled against an increasing pressure that made her bones ache. She felt an uncomfortable pop, and realized that her bones were trying to reform. Why did it seem more difficult for him to keep her in form the closer he got?

  “So, Herr Monier. Is this your cat? Can you prove your claim?”

  Tahira watched the man—Antoine—offer a patronizing smile to the officer. “Of course she is.” He turned to her and with complete confidence on his face, said, “Babette, let’s go home. Are you all right, girl?” He stepped forward and reached past the cage grate to stroke her face. His hand was soft and gentle and smelled strongly of fur, along with a wonderful cologne that reminded her of freshly mown grass. She tried to offer a look that might appear adoring to the uniformed inspector. He was watching the interaction carefully, but not stepping too close to the cage. She rubbed her face against Antoine’s hand as a house cat would and made soft kitten sounds. Hopefully, the officer would have no concept of proper greeting methods.

  “Come now, Babette. I’ll take you home to your cubs. Can you show the nice officer your belly? That’s my girl.” He turned to the Kommissar. “It’s perfectly all right, Kommissar Reiner. You can step closer. Babette wouldn’t hurt a fly. You wanted to see evidence of nursing, and you can’t do it from back there.”

  Tahira struggled to remain completely passive while Antoine removed his hand from the cage and eased it through a lower square. He very carefully placed his flat palm on her side and let it remain there motionless as the inspector nervously stepped forward. The inspector reeked of fear, though he tried to hide the fact. She tried to fix her mind on the tangy scent of terror, remembering the tall grass that slid past her body as she stalked the old, limping deer. But her last hunt dissolved abruptly as Antoine ran a slow hand along her side and flank.

  “You see, Kommissar? Here and . . . here:”

  His touch made her skin tingle. She’d never felt the touch of so powerful a sahip, and presumed that the tingling was an after-effect of his magic. But when his fingers slid through the fur of her belly, she suddenly knew better. It was magic, all right, but of a whole different kind.

  Don’t think about how good it feels. There’s too much at stake. Rabi is counting on me. Rabi is countin—But her body wouldn’t cooperate with her brain. Her stomach, and parts lower, clenched as his fingers skimmed along her fur. She closed her eyes and a small growl of pleasure slipped out. But just when she had decided to let herself revel in his touch, he stopped. Her eyes flew open in time to see the two men stepping toward the door. She hadn’t realized that his hair was long. A wheat-colored braid hung almost to his belt. What kind of cat is he?

  Antoine turned to her and winked. If she was in human form, she would have blushed.

  We’ll be right back. I appreciate your cooperation. We should be out of here in a few minutes.

  “There is some paperwork for you to sign, Herr Monier,” said Reiner as they closed the door. His voice sounded much friendlier. No less professional, but the tone and tenor were relaxed.

  A few minutes later, she heard their voices again—this time in the parking lot above. “And you are certain that this van will hold the tiger, Herr Monier?” The man called Reiner must be inspecting the Sazi’s vehicle, because she heard the squeaking of car springs, and then rattling metal.

  “Without question, Kommissar,” Antoine replied confidently. “We use this van frequently to transport our cats, and it has been inspected and approved by your government on numerous occasions. I do have the paperwork, if you wish to see it.”

  Reiner responded without a hint of worry. “No, I see no need. It is obvious that the cat knows and trusts you. It was quite calm when you entered the room and handled it. It reacted completely differently with my men.”

  Antoine laughed. “I don’t doubt you! She is quite stressed right now. She needs to return to her cubs and have a meal and some quiet.”

  But shock filled her as Antoine stepped back into the room holding a collar and leash. I am not a pet to follow along after you, Sazi!

  For the first time, he narrowed his eyes and dropped his head into a defensive position. Here then was the true sahip showi
ng through. He fully expected to be obeyed without question. His gold and green eyes burned bright with intensity and a burst of magic hit her hard enough to sting each and every hair on her body. The words that seared into her head were terse and angry. No, you are not a pet. What you are is a dangerous wild animal, and these men are afraid of you! They have guns and there are more of them than I can reasonably defend you against. I would suggest that you keep your annoyance to yourself and allow me to get you safety. I can’t hold your form indefinitely, you know.

  Both his tone, and the truth of his statement made heat rise to her face. But her parents, her grandparents—they all said that the Sazi would use any excuse to subdue the Kabile, to subjugate them and turn them into shadows of humans with no free will. Yet, Antoine seemed to be trying to help. Or was he merely afraid to be found out himself?

  She couldn’t tell, but in freedom there was power. So she lowered her eyes when the cage door was opened and allowed the collar to be placed around her neck. He pulled on the leash and she stepped out of the cage and followed him through the police station. But then she saw him—the man who had kicked her head through the cage so the other could inject the drug. A snarl rose from her chest without warning. It was met with a sharp tug on the collar and another burst of biting magic.

  Tahira fought down her anger. There was no time. I should be thankful that I’m getting out of this alive so I can find Rabi.

  The guards followed them out to the van with hands on weapons, and remained there until the rear doors were safely shut and locked. The van was filled with the scent of other cats, large and small, some shapeshifters and some wild cats. But it smelled of comfort and peace, rather than anger or fear. The cats who had passed through this van were content, which surprised her. She’d heard horror stories about the treatment of cats in circuses and shows, and even worse stories about the sadistic Sazi.