Badger to the Bone

by Laurenston, Shelly

  Coach lowered her clipboard, sighed. “Listen, I want to get into the finals. But that means we have to destroy every team in the playoffs. Can’t do that if you five start flaking on me.”

  “When have we ever—”

  “Don’t even, MacKilligan. Just remember those schedules and get your asses to games and practice on time. Understand?”

  “Yes, mistress of power!” they sounded off . . . just to annoy her.

  With a frustrated sigh and a hard whack to the back of Max’s head, Coach walked away.

  “Why do you always hit me?” Max demanded.

  “Because your head is the hardest!” Coach yelled back.

  To the untrained eye, Coach appeared fed up and done with them, but Max knew better. They’d been torturing the She-wolf for years and she adored them for it. Because it was their honey badger attitude that made them such great competitors on the court. Hell, Coach had picked and groomed them because they were pain-in-the-ass badgers. She used to say that finding five badgers in the school was a gift from God. At least for her and the girls’ basketball team. For everyone else, the five of them were just a nightmare that couldn’t graduate fast enough.

  “I’m starving,” Nelle announced. “Who’s up to feed?”

  “Let’s go back to Manhattan for food,” Streep begged. “Some place fancy with excellent service.”

  Nelle smirked. “I guess I’m paying?”

  “That’s not necessary . . . unless you just want to.”

  “There’s just no shame, is there?” Mads asked. “You just have no shame.”

  “Shame is for the weak.”

  Tock pointed her finger at Streep. “You’re getting McDonald’s and you’re going to fucking like it!”

  “No, no,” Nelle said, chuckling. “We’ll hit the Van Holtz Steakhouse on Fifth. We’ll introduce Zé to a shifter’s idea of fine dining.”

  Max nodded. “Oh, wow. Good idea. Cool.”

  But her teammates knew her too well.

  “You forgot he existed, didn’t you?” Mads asked.

  “Of course not!”

  “Don’t lie to us.”

  “He simply slipped my mind,” she admitted.

  After clucking at her, Streep asked, “Did you even remember that we were going to look up Zé’s background at the Katzenhaus Library?” Nope. She hadn’t remembered that. At all.

  “Of course I did.”

  Mads shook her head. “You really are a bad liar.”

  “I’m not. Look at my excellent eye contact. This is skill, bitch.”

  “So did you find out anything?” Nelle asked Tock.

  “Fucking cats wouldn’t let us in. And they were really mean about it. Show ’em, Streep.”

  Streep lifted her tank top to reveal the brutal claw marks that slashed across her belly. A full-human would have needed stitches and possibly a blood transfusion—as well as a decent therapist—but Streep was already healing up. A good thing, too, since Coach would not have cared if Streep’s throat had been torn out. “You don’t miss practice!”

  “So we didn’t get anything. But,” Tock added, “I have a few contacts that may be able to help. I’ve got calls out. When I hear back, I’ll let you know.”

  “Great.”

  “But I’ll make sure to remind you first since you’ll forget all about poor Zé again.”

  Max flashed a fang. “I will not forget him.”

  “I bet she won’t,” Nelle said, grinning. “She was lusting for him earlier.”

  “Because he no longer smelled of Dutch?” Streep guessed.

  “Exactly! Now she just smells—”

  “His musk!”

  “Yes!”

  “What is it with you two and musk?” Max asked. “Because you’re starting to gross me out with that word.”

  “Musk or no musk,” Tock suggested, “you better think about making your move before it’s too late.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She pointed and they all turned. In the audience seats, two of their teammates—both cheetahs—were sitting on either side of Vargas. And they were talking to him.

  Talking!

  Max narrowed her gaze on the two bitches and started over there to slap the shit out of them—merely on principle—but Nelle grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back.

  “That is not the way to handle it.”

  “Look at ’em. Talking to him. Whores.”

  “Wow,” Mads snorted. “You went misogynistic fast.”

  “Christ, you’re right.” Max put her hands to her head. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “You like him,” Nelle reasoned. “That’s all. There’s no shame in that.”

  “Isn’t there, though? When, you know, it makes me call my teammates whores?”

  “Max, don’t overthink this. Enjoy that first flush of liking a guy . . . before you find out what an asshole he really is and dump him by throwing him out a third-story window like you did to Danny Parker in tenth grade.”

  Max laughed at the memory. “He just screamed,” she said, waving her hands the way he had when she’d picked him up and thrown him out that window.

  “They’re coming over,” Streep whispered. “Everybody be cool! Be cool!”

  Max watched as her four teammates attempted to “be cool” by striking poses like they were at a 1993 Beverly Hills pool party photo shoot.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Such idiots.”

  * * *

  Zé followed the two players down to the court where Max and her friends were standing. He’d never had women come up to him and open a conversation with “Hey, we saw you sitting here all alone . . . We’re cheetahs.”

  And Zé could think of no other reply than “That is the weirdest introduction I’ve ever gotten.”

  They were confused by his response, and that was how his backstory had come out. They were surprisingly nice and he’d laughed when they’d told him he was now “officially part of the spots-r-us club!” Apparently a common joke among jaguars, leopards, and cheetahs.

  “We met your new friend here, Maxie,” one of them said to Max. “He’s cute.”

  Max took a step toward them but Nelle quickly cut in front of her. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Look, we heard you’re trying to help Zé.”

  “And?”

  She put her hand on Zé’s shoulder in what he thought was just a friendly gesture. “We can teach him something right now, as a matter of fact. In front of everybody.”

  “Whores!” Streep yelled, pointing a damning finger.

  “Okay!” Nelle raised her hands, palms out. “Everyone just calm down. We’re all on the same team.”

  The cheetahs gawked at the badgers—another sentence he’d never in a million years have believed would come from his brain—and one of them asked, “What is going on with you guys?”

  “Maybe,” Tock interjected, “and I’m just spitballing, why don’t you just tell us what you’re talking about.”

  “A race. Around the court.”

  “Why?” Zé asked.

  “Are you afraid?” one cheetah asked. “Hate to lose, do ya?”

  “Not to be insulting, but I’m taller than you. Way longer legs.”

  They all laughed, then.

  “He really doesn’t know what we are, does he?” the other cheetah asked.

  “Come on, cutie,” the first cheetah prompted. “You don’t even have to change clothes. Three times around the court. Whoever gets back here first . . . wins.”

  Zé sighed, rolled his eyes. But when he looked down at Max, expecting her to agree with him about not wasting his time, she asked, “Scared?”

  No. He wasn’t scared. But he was competitive.

  Leaning down so he could look right into Max’s face . . . “Fine. You guys wanna play . . . let’s play.”

  * * *

  The entire team sat on the sidelines, watching as the two cheetahs and Vargas lined up at one corner. Coach came ou
t of her office to help, her whistle at the ready. She raised her arm. “Get ready! Get set!” She waited another few seconds . . . then blew her whistle. The three took off, charging down the line toward the first turn.

  Immediately the cheetahs fell back, Vargas taking the lead.

  “Is this just going to humiliate the poor guy?” Max asked, already cringing.

  “How does he not know that cheetahs are the fastest land animals?” Tock asked.

  “Because he doesn’t understand that the women he’s racing are also one of the fastest land animals in the world. He still hasn’t put two and two together.”

  “That’s why he’s still floundering,” Mads tossed in. “Why he can’t shift on his own.”

  “He’s not floundering,” Max argued. “He just doesn’t see it yet. Hopefully this will help with that and not just humiliate the fuck out of him.”

  “Believe it or not,” Nelle explained, “they’re not trying to humiliate him. They’re trying to do exactly what you’re saying, Max. By pushing that competitive nature he so clearly has.”

  Max wasn’t so sure . . . until they hit the second lap.

  Vargas had just shot around the corner when both cheetahs powered by him. So fast that he almost stopped. He definitely stumbled, his eyes blinking wide. He’d most likely never seen humans move that fast. Not in his old neighborhood. Not in a combat zone. Not in the Olympics.

  But unlike most full-humans, who would stop, stare, and possibly pee themselves in panic, Vargas didn’t stop. He barely slowed down. And after a moment of confusion, he picked up speed. Why? Because he was a competitive cat. He just didn’t understand that yet.

  The cheetahs slowed down a bit again, giving Vargas a chance to catch up and, honestly, because they had to. Because they could only run at sixty-five miles per hour for short bursts. But as soon as he caught up to them, they took off again. A move that clearly pissed him off.

  And they did it again. And again. Slowing down until he caught up and then blasting off, leaving him behind.

  The fourth time was when she saw it. Not rage. Not jealousy. Nothing full-human in his reaction. Just determination. Annoyance at himself for being left behind.

  It started with his eyes. Those green beauties turning bright gold.

  Then his shoulders hunched a bit. And his strides became longer, more fluid.

  When the transition hit, it took less than a second. A flash. His human body abruptly covered in black fur, the spots so dark they were almost invisible, only exposed when he passed under certain lights. His shoulders hunched, his arms hanging down. Then his hands were paws, hitting the ground hard, followed by his feet.

  In mid-run, he shook himself all over and his clothes flew off. When his front paws landed again, he was full jaguar and, as one, her team did what they always did when they saw a great play: they jumped up and cheered.

  It took him a second. He was still running, unaware that he’d shifted on his own. But when he did finally realize it, when he fully understood he was no longer human, he slowed down and then stopped.

  Max watched as he lifted one paw after another, his now gold gaze studying each in turn.

  The two cheetahs shifted and playfully attacked him, knocking him down, leaping over him. Zé rolled to his back, stretched his legs and studied them. Fascinated by his new form. Fascinated with his new power.

  He scrambled back to his feet and faced the cheering players. Then he was charging toward them at full power. Max smiled, but unlike the dogs on her team, she didn’t duck. None of the badgers did.

  Zé sailed over her with ease, dashing up the seats to the highest row.

  That’s when Max and her teammates began the chant.

  “Zé! Zé! Zé! Zé! Zé!”

  And even in his cat form, she could tell he was taking a bow.

  chapter TEN

  The trunk opened and, for the first time in hours, Devon Martin could see something other than utter darkness.

  “Come on, Dev,” that familiar voice said, although more than one set of strong hands grabbed him and hauled him out.

  He was mercilessly tossed to the ground. Then there was a series of brutal kicks to his gut, legs, chest, and back. Almost everywhere but his head.

  When he was sure he couldn’t take any more, he heard that voice again.

  “All right. That’s enough.”

  The kicking stopped and Dev was able to pull himself up onto his hands and knees. He lifted his head.

  “Hi, Dev.”

  She sat on the trunk of the car with another Asian woman, both of them eating carrots.

  Holding up the vegetable, Renny Yang said, “You know, I really thought that when I got out of prison, I would be dying for a burger and fries. And that was the first thing I ate. But you know what else they don’t have in a Bulgarian prison? Vegetables. And fruit. Something this omnivore has missed greatly.”

  “I want my shit, woman.”

  Renny smiled and Dev remembered how he used to love that smile. Now he just wanted to shoot it off.

  “You and that idiot double-crossed me,” he reminded her. “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Not mess with my daughter.”

  Dev gazed at her. “Your daughter . . . or our daughter?”

  Renny frowned and eventually looked at the woman next to her. Then they burst into laughter. They were joined by the other Asian females who came out of the darkness and surrounded the car.

  “You think I would have had a child with you? Some”—her mouth curled in disgust—“ full-human with absolutely nothing to offer my bloodline? Oh, puhleeze!”

  “I don’t know which is worse,” the woman beside Renny said to him. “That you think she’d have a child with . . . you. Or that you think Max might be your child and yet you attempted to kill her several times.”

  “I never tried to kill her. She just . . . just . . .”

  “Just, just, just . . . what?” Renny asked. “Didn’t stand for being a tool for you to use against me? You know, actually”—she slid off the trunk but didn’t come closer to Dev—“it’s a real shame that my girl didn’t find you first. She’s much nicer than I am. Quicker . . . from what I’ve heard.”

  “If you’re going to kill me, bitch, then kill me!”

  “I’m not going to kill you.” She held up her hand. “I just got my nails done. Gotta look nice when I see my daughter again. But I want to be able to tell her she has nothing to worry about anymore.”

  Dev heard them first. A weird, whooping noise that came from the forest surrounding the clearing. He looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. What that sound was. What was coming through the trees toward him.

  He forced himself to stand, expecting Renny to immediately knock him back down. But she had her back to him, was adjusting her jeans—on the much-wider ass she’d grown since going to prison—and chatting with the other Asian women. She was ignoring him.

  Dev’s first thought was to run up and kill her. Just snap her neck. He’d still die but so would she. The bitch who had taken what he’d earned.

  But those sounds. That loud, long whooping call. He kept hearing it, coming from all directions. Long whooping, then short. Like barks. Whatever it was . . . it just kept coming. And sometimes . . . sometimes there’d be what sounded like laughing.

  Whatever the fuck it was, it was too much for Dev. It terrified him more than the thought of Renny Yang getting away with his money.

  Maybe she was just faking him out. Maybe she was just using a sound system to get him to panic. He didn’t know. He just knew he didn’t want to stick around to find out what that noise was. He couldn’t.

  Dev turned away from Renny and started running. He glanced back but Renny and the women weren’t chasing him. That didn’t make him feel better. It made him feel worse. Renny wasn’t stupid. She knew that if he got away, he’d be coming for her again. She knew it. So then why was she letting him—

  It slammed into him from his right, gra
bbing hold of his arm between powerful jaws. He turned, trying to get the thing off, but it spun with him. Dev punched at it, but the creature only made that whooping sound again, even with its jaws closed around his arm.

  A dog? They were going to use a dog to kill him?

  But this “dog” didn’t feel right. He used to breed fighting dogs and they didn’t feel like this. They didn’t make these kinds of sounds.

  Headlights came on from behind him and now Dev saw. Now he understood those sounds. Like any kid growing up, he’d loved watching documentaries on predators. Lions, tigers . . . hyenas.

  The hyena flipped him over and forced Dev to the ground.

  Dev tried to get up but it wasn’t one hyena that Renny had sicced on him. There was a whole bunch and they surrounded him, one climbing onto his chest and leaning over him.

  He knew, knew this was it and bared his throat, wanting it to be over quick.

  The hyenas made that sound again—a whooping combined with that short laugh. And that’s when the one on his chest turned its head one way, then the other. Suddenly . . . it was human.

  A woman staring down at him.

  “Did you really think this was going to be easy?” she asked, her voice husky, almost male. “That you wouldn’t suffer? Oh, my friend . . . you will suffer.”

  * * *

  Renny heard Dev screaming as the spotted hyena clan devoured him while he was still alive.

  Her cousin handed over a wad of cash and Renny handed it to the matriarch of the Clan. Giggling, the hyena walked off, apparently not in the mood to dine this evening.

  “You didn’t short her, did you?” Renny asked once the hyena was far enough away.

  “No, no. Promise.”

  “Good. I don’t need Dev’s literal ass suddenly popping up in a river somewhere.” Renny held out her hand and accepted the keys dropped in her palm.

  “You’re going now?”

  “I haven’t seen my daughter. I need to.”

  “Maybe you should wait,” another cousin suggested and Renny finally noticed that her cousins were looking everywhere but at her. “Max isn’t the Yang you left behind.”

  “She’s my girl.”

  That’s when several of the cousins laid into her. One after the other.