Stevie gasped, horrified, watching the pair hit the floor, stunned by all the snarling and hissing for several seconds before she realized she should do something.
“No, no, no!” she yelped, attempting to pull the pair apart. But there was so much resentment and hatred between the two, neither was willing to give up.
The feral cat had her front claws dug deep in Max’s face. As if she was hoping to rip the skin off completely. Max struggled to her feet with the cat still attached. She gripped the angry beast with both hands and pulled and pulled.
Stevie cringed, watching as her sister’s skin was stretched by the deeply imbedded claws.
Terrified about how this would end, she reached in between the pair, ready to separate them with a hard push. But Max abruptly pulled the cat off her face and slammed it down on the table. Angry beyond reason, Max kept the animal pinned to the table with one hand and lifted the other, unleashing her claws.
“Max!” Stevie screamed. “Noooo!”
Max, ignoring her as usual, brought her claws down toward the hissing animal she had trapped on the table. But a black paw slammed into her arm, holding it in place.
The black jaguar that had replaced the possibly dead man who had been sitting unconscious at the table glared at Max with bright gold eyes. Then it bared its fangs and let out a roar that had Stevie doing the only thing she could think of . . .
* * *
Max gazed into the gold eyes of the big cat glaring at her. He had his back paws in the chair his human form had been sitting in and the front paw not warding off her unleashed claws was on the kitchen table.
Shocked that the dude she’d thought was dead was quite alive and had just shifted into a very big jaguar, Max didn’t know what to say or do . . . until she realized that her sister was no longer standing behind her.
Looking over her shoulder . . . and up, Max let out a little growl.
Max pulled her hands away from both cats and turned. “Get out of the ceiling!” she ordered, using that phrasing because her sister was hanging by her claws.
“Nope.”
“Stevie!”
Stevie crawled into the closest cabinet over the refrigerator, slamming the door behind her.
Satisfied that at least her sister wouldn’t come crashing to the ground—Charlie got really bitchy when their rental house was damaged—Max turned back to the table to find only the feral cat standing there, glaring at her. The jaguar . . .
“Shit!”
Max ran toward the front of the house.
“What’s wrong?” Stevie yelled from the cabinet, but Max didn’t have time to answer her. Not when she scented that the big cat had gone out the front door. Someone had left it open, probably the triplets since they would most likely head back this way from their house across the street at any time.
Max ran out on the porch and stood at the top of the stairs, gaze searching the street.
“Max?” Dutch came around the side of the house, still rubbing his side from where Charlie had hit him with the basketball. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s out. He’s out.”
“Who’s out?”
They heard screaming from down the street. A kid screaming, “Dad! Dad! Daaaaaaaad!”
Running down the steps and through several neighbors’ yards, Max stumbled to a stop, and Dutch crashed into her.
“Oh, shit!” they both gasped at the same time.
The cat had grabbed a grizzly cub lounging in his own yard and was dragging the poor screeching kid to a nearby tree.
* * *
The Ako Pride had ruled the Tanzania cats long before the Chinese had their first emperor. But it wasn’t until the late 1800s that Imani’s great grandmother, her great aunts, and their males had traveled to the American shores. They’d lived in Harlem in those days, but that’s when shifters of other breeds and species had been scattered throughout the country.
If one wanted to find shifter-only towns on the East Coast, one had to go to parts of the South that seemed to be filled with nothing but dogs from the Smith Pack. Not a lot of cats wanted to deal with Smiths in any town or city, but the southern soil seemed to strengthen the Smiths in ways that had made Imani’s kin more than a little uncomfortable. When several houses became available on a Queens street a couple of decades back, the Ako Pride had purchased them and moved in. Finding out there were bears a street or two over and wolves in the other direction with their annoying howling every goddamn full moon had almost sent them running back to Harlem. But their cubs had loved having yards, a couple with in-ground pools. Who could willingly leave that? So they stayed and did what all lions did: expanded their territory.
It was Imani’s grandmother who’d realized that waiting for more lions to move in would put them at risk of full-humans snapping up newly available homes. So she’d decided to have other breeds of cats move in as houses became available—no matter how annoying those cats might be. Tigers, cheetahs, leopards, jaguars, cougars, lynx—all of them would be welcome as long as they had the down payment and could tolerate the damn howling. It took some time, but eventually the local full-humans found the constant silent staring of unfriendly neighbors more than enough reason to move out to Long Island or out of the state completely. Leaving the Pride with all they’d ever wanted:
Several streets that belonged only to them.
Which meant that when a She-tiger casually showed up with a Smith riding in the car with her, Imani didn’t take it well. How could she? It wasn’t just any Smith that Cella Malone had brought to her territory. It was Dee-Ann Smith. A She-wolf who was a standout killer in a Pack of standout killers. Only Smith’s father was feared more. An oversized wolf strangely named “Eggie.”
It was such an annoying move that Imani felt the need to say something in the most diplomatic way possible.
“Who told you it was okay to bring this heifer with you?”
“Mom!” her daughter snapped from behind her while one of Imani’s teenage granddaughters snorted out a laugh before quickly turning away.
“That is not friendly,” the She-tiger replied with a wide smile. A smile Imani had never trusted and had always wanted to slap off her face. But this particular cat wasn’t some lone kitty roaming the world. This was Cella Malone and the Malones were not only Siberian tigers, they were Travelers and, as a group, nearly as dangerous as the Smiths. Just less insane, which was at least something. “Everyone knows that Dee-Ann is a very close associate of mine.”
“Who, exactly, is ‘everyone’?” Imani looked at her granddaughter over her shoulder. “Ever notice that narcissists always say, ‘everyone knows this about me’? Or ‘everyone knows who I am’? Is that you, Malone? A narcissist?”
“My daddy says,” the Smith cut in, voice low, “that’s the way of all cats.”
Imani studied the dog a few seconds before asking, “Can your daddy even spell ‘cats’?”
“Okay,” Malone quickly said, stepping between them, arms out although neither had moved. “Let’s keep this civil.”
“Why are you here, Malone? What do you want from my Pride?”
The She-tiger’s back straightened, her mouth set in a grim line, and she solemnly intoned, “Your firstborn.”
When Imani’s fangs angrily slid into place, Malone began laughing.
“I’m kidding!” she finally said, wiping away actual tears. “You’re all so serious! Loosen up.”
“You expect me to loosen up when you bring a dog to my territory?”
“Call me ‘dog’ one more time . . .”
Imani looked over at the big-shouldered female standing behind Malone. Her short brown hair was covered by a Tennessee Titans baseball cap; her ancient-looking blue T-shirt had a Pabst Blue Ribbon logo, and her jeans were so old looking, they might have once been worn by an actual old-timey cowboy. The best touch was the brown boots: steel-toed. So when she had to kick someone, Smith could do maximum damage. The worst thing about Dee-Ann Smith, though, was her eyes. Because
unlike most of their kind, her eyes didn’t change to a different color when she shifted. Imani’s brown eyes turned a bright gold when she became lion, but Smith’s eyes were an off-putting yellow all the time. It was like having a human pit bull staring at you.
Imani opened her mouth to tell the dog to roll over, but Malone quickly said, “No.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “You know, ladies, we’re all on the same side. Working toward the same goal. Protecting our kind.”
“I have never been on the same side as the Group,” Imani reminded Malone. “My loyalty has always been to Katzenhaus. And if I still worked for Katzenhaus, I can promise you, we would not have an association with a bunch of hybrid freaks.”
“Can I shoot her now?” Smith pushed.
“No,” Malone snapped.
Fed up, Imani finally asked again, “Why are you here, Malone?”
“We need your help with something.”
It was the way she said it. The way her body suddenly seemed tense. This time, Imani knew the She-tiger was serious because she was trying so hard to hide it.
“With what?”
Malone cleared her throat, glanced away. But the dog, the dog had no such sense. “The de Medici Pride.”
Imani felt that tic she sometimes got right under her left eye. It was the only thing she couldn’t control with ruthless determination. She hated that tic, but other than using Botox, there was no way to stop it. And no lioness was so insecure as to waste time and money on getting shots in her face. What were they? Full-humans?
“Get off my property, Malone,” she ordered both dog and cat. “And I mean now.”
* * *
The cub’s father came stomping down his back steps, grizzly hump expanding with each move.
“Stop him!” Max ordered Dutch, pointing at the shifting grizzly.
“Why do I have to go after the bear?” Dutch wanted to know, but Max wasn’t really listening.
She ran to the tree that the cat had dragged his prey into.
“Goddammit! Drop that kid! Now!” Stretched out on a high branch, the cat had one paw pressed against the sobbing kid’s head and the other across his chest. Glaring down at her, Vargas gave a warning snarl.
“Let him go!”
Behind her, Max could hear rage-filled huffing. She turned and came face-to-face with a dozen of her neighbors in their bear forms. There were four grizzlies, two black bears, a polar, three sun bears, and—to Max’s great concern—a couple of sloth bears. Usually the most laid-back, easygoing bears there were . . . unless they were aggravated. They could be a little psychotic when aggravated.
And right now, all these bears knew was that there was a cat in their territory attempting to eat their children. Of course, all Zé Vargas knew was what any big jungle cat would know: that some chunky cub lying around in his kiddy pool with no parents around to protect him was easy prey. It didn’t help that Vargas was probably pretty hungry, too. Max hadn’t thought about feeding him when he’d been conscious. All he’d eaten were those cinnamon buns.
The worst part was knowing she’d never hear the end of this once Charlie found out.
Dutch pushed his way past all those shifted bears and stood in front of them.
“Let’s all just calm—” was all he managed to say before he was slapped into a yard three houses over by a livid grizzly bear attempting to protect his child.
Max raised her hands, palms up and out. “Okay. Everyone be calm. We can discuss this. Remember . . . I’m Max. Charlie and Stevie’s sister.”
Max grimaced as the roaring response from the grizzlies and black bears reminded her they had not been appreciating her nightly raids on their beehives.
Since trying the calming thing that Charlie was really good at wasn’t working for her, Max said, “Zé Vargas . . . if there’s a part of you in that tree that still knows you were once a U.S. Marine, you best realize the situation you’re currently in and let that goddamn kid go . . .”
The leaves in the big tree behind her rustled and—
“Ow,” she growled when the big-boned bear cub landed on her back. He was alive but crying. Something she didn’t have patience for.
She grabbed the kid’s arms and was trying to politely remove him when a shot of black zipped past her peripheral vision—and a bunch of bears tore off in pursuit.
Unable to take her time, she yanked the kid off her back and tossed him to his father.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Kapowski!” she yelled, running after the mob trying to take down her rescue cat.
* * *
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked Stevie, her eyes narrowing when Stevie jumped at the sound of her voice. Now she knew something was going on.
“Uhhhh.” Stevie stood in front of the house, twisting her fingers the way she used to before a big recital. Her eyes were unnaturally wide and she was moving around as if she had to pee, but Charlie knew that was simply one of her sister’s nervous reactions to an uncomfortable situation.
“You might as well tell me, Stevie. We both know I’ll find out anyway.”
“Well—” she began just as a black jungle cat shot across the street, turned down Everest Drive, and headed directly into cat territory. Five streets ruled by the Ako lion Pride that even the hyenas didn’t fuck with.
“Was that—?” Charlie started, only to stop when a gang of bears raced across the street after the cat. So pissed off it seemed as if they were blindly running right into lion territory. Something none of them did except when they were in their cars, trying to avoid traffic. But to actually walk into that neighborhood. . . in their bear forms?
A few seconds later, after the bears went down the street, Max came into view. She was still human, but only because she ran much faster as human than as honey badger. And right behind her . . . that idiot. Although Charlie did have to stifle a laugh when she saw that Dutch was bleeding profusely from his face, meaning he’d ended up on the wrong side of those bears.
“I’ve got it!” Max yelled, waving at Charlie and Stevie as she headed down Everest. “I’ve got it alllllll under control!”
Stevie looked at Charlie, shrugged. “Do I still need to answer your question?”
* * *
“Talk to us,” Malone pushed. “We need your help.”
“If you’re going after the de Medicis, you need more than help. You need a mental hospital. For a thousand years, Katzenhaus did not have anything to do with the de Medicis. We didn’t help, we didn’t hinder. They kept their territories and we kept our own. And all that was for a very good reason.”
“Pretending they don’t exist is no longer an option for us.”
“Then let the full-humans take them down.”
“That’s not something we should let full-humans handle. We’ve seen what happens when they get involved in situations we should have managed from the beginning. They always make it worse.”
Imani shook her head. The She-tiger could say whatever she wanted, but going against the de Medicis was a fool’s plan. She knew that from past experience. From nightmares she still had. From the therapist she still saw.
“Forget it, Malone.”
“But—”
“Ma!”
One of Imani’s daughters strode up to her, with Imani’s toddler granddaughter in her arms.
Imani waved her off. “It’s all right. I can handle this.”
“Cat,” was all her daughter said, but she knew her daughter didn’t mean Malone. So Imani looked down the street and saw the black cat streaking toward them.
One lone cat was not something Imani would ever worry about, but the zoo-sized crowd of bears behind it . . . that was definitely a bigger issue.
“Bearsssss!” one of Imani’s neighbors roared. Cubs retreated into homes, some females going with them, while others shifted to their She-cat forms and made a half-circle behind Imani. The Pride’s male lions joined Imani on either side.
The cat was running toward them, looking over its
shoulder at the bears behind it. But when it saw the cats, it tried to stop, turning into a rolling jumble of paws and claws.
Confused, because she’d never seen a cat as inelegant as this one, Imani kept her eye on him—she now knew it was a “him” from his scent—while her Pride watched the bears.
The bears grotesquely lumbered to a stop. They wanted the interloper but they weren’t sure they wanted to fight a bunch of cats to get to him.
The strongest of her males took several steps forward and unleashed his roar. A sound that must have traveled to other nearby neighborhoods because the wolves a few blocks over barked and howled in response.
One of the grizzlies, the oldest of the Kapowski brothers, stepped forward and roared at the lion, but before jaws snapped and claws slashed, a honey badger appeared.
An actual honey badger. In basketball shorts, tank top, and high-top sneakers. Because that was the kind of weird day Imani was having. First Malones and Smiths and now honey badgers.
The honey badger jumped between the two groups, standing close to the interloper cat. She spread her arms out and opened her mouth to speak . . . but all she could do was pant. Hard.
Putting her hands back on her waist, she bent over. How far had she run? From Utah?
“Sorry,” she finally got out. “Sorry.” She pointed at the jaguar. “He’s with me.”
They all gazed at the She-badger for a moment, processing that information. Because it was weird information. Why would a badger be hanging around a cat? Ever? In this universe? Before any of them could figure that out, a wolverine showed up. Bloody and bruised, limping as he joined the badger.
“I think we can all calm down,” the wolverine suggested when he finally made it close enough for all of them to hear. “This is not a big deal.”
The bears didn’t seem to like that sentiment at all and one of the grizzly males roared at the wolverine.
“Hey, hey, hey!” the badger bellowed. “Don’t you yell at my friend!”
“Max, it’s okay. It’s okay,” the wolverine soothed. “Let’s just discuss this like reasonable, civilized—”
With one swipe of his paw, Kapowski sent the wolverine flying down their street. And they all watched him go before refocusing on the She-badger.
Badger to the Bone Page 9