Skinwalker jy-1 Page 31

  Rolled to clean off dead dog. Something moved in water. Get out! she screamed. I pushed off bottom, leaped from water, forepaws spread, claws grasping. Landed. Spun. Drops scattered. From water, wide jaws reached. Wicked teeth rising from pool. I hissed. Hacked.

  Alligator, she said.

  Alligator bad.

  I don’t like them either, she agreed, fear in her tone. Hunt the liver-eater? Please?

  Liver-eater bad. Long time since tasted liver-eater. Watched Jane in mind at words. She went still—fear-prey still. I jogged into shadows, watching her in mind. Cat and mouse.

  Long minute later, she asked, tone fearful, When did you taste a liver-eater?

  I hacked. Remembered. Image eased up from dark of mind, hidden from Jane for many seasons. Old woman. Long gray hair, chin and nose and yellow eyes like Jane, piercing.

  Not old. A woman in her sixties, maybe, she thought, her mind uneasy. She smells rotten, like the liver-eater we chase. Fear swelled fast in back of Jane’s mind, like belly of dead prey in summer sun. She thought, I don’t remember this. . . . I hacked with amusement; shared past.

  Crone held knife. Fire crackled near, smoke rising high, herbed and bitter. Night was cold with winter, trees bare like bones. A girl lay before old woman, bound, gagged, arms over head, tied to stakes at hands and feet, stinking with terror. Eyes blue in firelight. Blond hair. Girl wasn’t human. Smelled of new thing. Learned later, scent of vampire girl, I thought.

  Crone leaned in. Movement made liver-eater scent rise rank on air, rotten meat. She nicked girl with blade, a stabbing cut, pointed, deep. Girl screamed behind gag, face bleeding. Crone gathered blood on finger, carried it to mouth. Sucked it. Made another cut, another. Tasting each. Crone cut girl’s clothes with knife, exposing belly and breasts. Girl squirmed, but stakes and ropes held her. Girl vomited. Unable to release it, she breathed it down. Her breath sounded wet. Her bowels released old blood stench, rising with herbs in fire.

  I eased closer to ledge, claws extended, gripping rock as if gripping flesh to shred. Crone raised knife. Brought it down into girl’s belly. Cutting. Bound girl screamed, keening sound, like kit in mortal danger, held in paws of male big cat, or under claws of rival female invading territory. Crone cut deep. Girl’s squeals bounced off rock walls below. I exposed killing teeth. Eyes on knife. Crone lifted out chunk of vampire girl’s liver. Steam rose from human-meat. Crone tasted raw flesh. Bit, tearing with teeth. Blood ran down chin, over clothes.

  When meat was gone, crone reached into bloody hole. Cut more. More again. Still holding knife. Girl stopped screaming, stopped moving, yet her heart still beat. For a little time. Crone ate more. Kidney. Part of lung. Girl stopped breathing. Heart fell still. Crone reached into body cavity and pulled, tugged. Heart came free. Crone began to chant, eating heart.

  I watched as energies gathered on crone, silver gray, full of sparkles. Power touched her. Fire that did not burn. Bones slid, twisted, flesh growing lighter. Hair growing pale, blond. She stole young girl. Took her form. Bad smell in air. Much later, understood it was scent of evil, I thought.

  Anger erupted in my spirit, anger at evil I did not understand. I leaped, silent. Driving down liver-eater. Paws on back, killing teeth at neck. Biting. Breaking spine with snap of jaws. Flesh was rancid, oily, foul. Burning tongue. I spat. Turned body with swipe of paw. Ripped out throat. Spat foulness. Tore off head. Liver-eater was dead. I turned, padded into night.

  Images faded. Memory was ended. Jane was silent. I placed paw on her head in joined mind. You are liver-eater, I thought, snarling. You ate me as crone ate girl.

  No! She struggled. I shoved hard with paws, holding her down, claws in her spirit flesh.

  I was stronger than blond vampire girl. Stronger than you. I did not die. I came into you. With you. Now we are both, I and Jane. Better than Jane alone. Better than me alone. We are strong. We are Beast. And now we are Big Cat. Very big.

  She stopped struggling, fear shaking her spirit, thinking fast human-thoughts. You took mass from the minerals in the boulders. Her fear grew, skittering like squirrel claws. You performed the mass to mass, stone to stone, of complex magic. How did you do that? How much mass did you take?

  I said, Found place in snake for bigger. Gene for much bigness. I took all mass I wanted. Jane fled, deep into joined spirits, hiding. I hissed, shook the last scummy water away. Pelt is thick and rich and deep. Claws are sharp and long. Hunt liver-eater. Kill another one. I padded into deeper shadows, mouth open, scent-searching for path of liver-eater. I am Big Cat. I will kill.

  CHAPTER 23

  Mass to mass, stone to stone

  Moon was high when I padded into park land far behind Cherokee shaman’s house. Liver-eater’s scent was strong and hot, from upwind. It was running, sweat stinking with rot. Second scent floated on night wind—blood, fresh, potent with fear. Human. Liver-eater had hunted. Found man to drink and eat.

  Deep in woods, on high ground surrounded by swamp, I found kill site. Paused. Studied clearing. Tent, latrine, shovel, lantern burning, guttering, latched cooler, string in trees, damp clothes hanging limp. Blood everywhere, slick, shiny in moonlight. Body parts, scattered. A homeless camp, she thought. A drifter.

  I crouched, silent, sniffing, watching. Liver-eater was gone. With slow hunter steps I walked into camp—hunched low, back paws into space when front paws rose, no sticks or leaves to crackle. Sniffed chewed leg. Old and scrawny. Sick human. Not good eating. I moved through camp, scenting. Liver-eater was rank, rotten when he came. Scent changed as he ate.

  Jane shuddered at thought. I hacked laughter. Padded around tent. Man-torso chewed in half at spine. Upper half near swamp. Lower half in water, pelvis jutting into air. Small fish fed at torn flesh. Gator swam close, eyes above water, tail moving like snake. I hacked warning. Feed later. My place. Gator slowed, stopped, sank. I jogged to tent opening.

  Man-head inside tent, resting on cot. Liver-eater didn’t eat face of this one. Hairy, scruffy. Pale blue eyes caught lantern light. Cheeks drooped, wrinkled.

  I found path liver-eater took from woods. His scent changed again. I stopped. Pulled air over scent organ in mouth. Studying. Rot smell changing. Gone. Not liver-eater scent. Vampire scent. Vampire over all other scents. Scent change worried Jane.

  Path reached blacktopped road. Truck headlights moved through trees, coming this way. I leaped into tree, crouched on wide limbs hanging over road. Dropped on pickup bed cover, denting weak metal. Liver-eater came this way, in vampire body. Moving fast. Air blasted hard, full of smells. Rich, strong scents.

  He stole a car, she thought. Or left a car here, planning ahead. She urged, Look at signs. Truck turned onto Lafitte-Larose Parkway. Still south. Signs proclaimed BARATARIA. Barataria, she thought. That’s where property is being purchased by Arceneau Developments and by Anna, according to Rick’s paper-trail search. But why?

  I sniffed with disdain. No sense to humans or vampires. Truck puttered along Jean Lafitte Boulevard, across Fisherman Boulevard bridge, down Privateer Boulevard, in Barataria. When truck turned on side street, I leaped onto low tree limb, into shadows. Dark. Good place to hide, hunt. Liver-eater’s changed scent was fading. When headlights gone, I dropped to ground. Stretched, mouth wide, yawning. Shaking pelt into place after fast-truck wind. Jogged down street, following scent. She looked at signs, to remember. PRIVATEER BOULEVARD.

  Liver-eater-vampire scent grew strong at small man-den, buried in overhanging trees, hidden behind shrubs, flowers blooming all around. Brick walls, hard, smooth walks between bushes. Lights on inside, spilling out windows. Car was dead in yard, parked on loose shells, car and shells both white in night. Mercedes, she thought. I trotted up to it, its roaring heart silent, but still pinging with life. Liver-eater had just arrived, his new scent on door handle. Scent was mingled, faint-faint liver-eater-rot. Mostly . . . vampire.

  She thought, A vampire turned a skinwalker and the transformation didn’t take properly.

  Yesssss. And n
o. I dropped to ground.

  She thought more. He didn’t take the drifter’s form; he called up another one from memory. He has to eat a lot of protein to retrieve a form he wants. And his original form, is it old? Decaying? He has to steal another human or vamp and become him?

  Yes and no. Skinwalker and vampire. Together they are liver-eater.

  Sorrow filled her heart. She grieved, as I grieve when a kit dies. Foolish to grieve, I thought at her. Not your kit. Not kit at all.

  But my kind. And the only one I’ve ever seen, Jane thought.

  Not your kind. Liver-eater. I spat in disgust, padding around house. Bayou water flowed close, silent, blacker than sky when moon is dead and gone. Loud crickets and frogs.

  A car roared along road, headlights piercing. Privateer Boulevard, she said, trying to remember. Car slowed, turned down small street, slowed more, pulled into yard. I slunk through foliage, to front of house. Crouched in darkest shadow. New car parked beside liver-eater’s Mercedes. Its roaring heart stopped. Anna-human got out, talking to phone. She wore white dress, her feet on tall spikes. Easy prey.

  “I’ll get his help,” she said to phone. Mayor’s voice growled, low, scratchy, words not clear. “Once we get Clan Pellissier’s backing on it,” Anna-human said, “we’ll have enough vamp clout to push the project through the council. And enough money to disappear.” More mayor growling. “Love you too.” She ran to house, rang bell. Her perfume was strong on air, overpowering blooming flowers. Inner wooden door opened, then screened door. “You have no idea how hard it was to get away from the hubby,” Anna-human said, lying.

  “Come here,” man said. Voice strange, not familiar. He smelled of liver-eater’s vampire scent. Rot smell almost gone, even to my nose. Screened door banged closed. Wooden door was pushed to. But not closed. Light streamed out. I gathered feet in close to leap. Hunt!

  No! she commanded. She tried to wrest away control.

  Yessss. I am big. Big Cat tonight. Big to kill liver-eater.

  Another car turned into small street. Into short drive. I hacked with displeasure. Car died. Rick got out. He had followed Anna-human. Trailed her. Hunted her. I crouched, tight.

  Rick raced to front door. Looked in window. His body went still, like predator in shock at size of large prey. Pulled gun from beneath arm. “Anna!” Rick shouted. He tore screen open. It banged against brick with sharp retort. Like gunshot. I flinched. Rick dove inside.

  Big-cat roar echoed into night. Not mine. Not Beast.

  Rick shouted. Words lost beneath roar. Anna-human screamed. Loud thumps. Liver-eater and Rick shouting, wordless anger. Fighting. Anna opened door, scuttled into darkness. Stench of liver-eater rot erupted out door with her. And hot smell of much Rick-blood. Crack, crack, crack of gunshots. Window broke. Rick screamed, choked off. Go! Jane commanded.

  I leaped through door in one massive lunge. Landed, silent, behind couch, wood floor beneath paws. Lips pulled back to expose killing teeth. Rank, rotten-meat stench filled air. Slurping sounds were loud, coarse. Rose up on couch, claws half exposed. Seeing room.

  Overturned furniture, candles flickering. Rick on floor, lying in spreading pool of blood. Face up, eyes open, arms out to sides, legs splayed, shirt ripped open. Chest poured blood from deep gashes. Liver-eater stooped over him, hunched, face at Rick’s chest. Drinking.

  Mostly human-shaped, wearing human clothing—slacks and belt, white shirt, all stained bright with blood. Long, tangled black hair tucked behind human ear, fell forward, hiding face. Flesh showed at liver-eater’s forehead and ear, at forearm and bare feet. But liver-eater’s hands were paws, claws flexed. Huge claws. Body shimmered with silvery gray light, danced with black motes. Energies of skinwalker shifting, half changed, yet held in check. Half human. Half cat. Liver-eater’s face from nose down was tawny pelt and big-cat mouth. Huge fangs rose from upper jaw, smaller from lower jaw. Fangs bit, buried in Rick’s flesh. Rick wasn’t fighting. Unmoving, yet still alive. He’s in thrall, mesmerized , she thought. Break it.

  I leaped over couch, reaching. Screamed.

  Liver-eater raised head. Bloody mouth open. He roared.

  Big cats collided. Bodies slammed. Rolled into wall. Glass breaking, falling. Energies of liver-eater’s shift flowed over my pelt. My claws sank deep in liver-eater flesh. Teeth latched on, killing teeth at liver-eater’s shoulder. Sinking deep. Foul taste, foul smell. Rotten/dead/bad. Remembered taste. Rolled, snarling. Clawed for purchase, to hold, to tear, to rend. I ripped muscle from enemy shoulder. Tore into wound again, again. Blood, hot, rank, splattered. Liver-eater arm went limp. Claws raked my side. Blood poured out. Strange energies poured over my wounds, energies of liver-eater, seeking change.

  It’s trying to take on mass, she thought, panicked.

  I understood. Liver-eater needed stone, but there was no stone. Desperate, liver-eater’s energies flowed over my pelt. Trying to steal Beast-mass, Beast-body. I bit deep in neck. Fighting. Never give in to skinwalker again. Never! I drew up dark energies, Jane’s energies. Fought back with skinwalker magics, using her power, using gray place she went to, to shift. Surprised, she saw what I did, helped, fighting. We screamed challenge.

  Liver-eater rotated hips. Slammed me down to floor, hard. Belly up like prey. I lost grip on its pelt. Its fangs latched near jaw. Vital blood spurted. I screamed prey sound. Fear and anger. Fangs twice bigger tore into flesh. But liver-eater mouth was wrong, still part human.

  Can’t bite properly, she thought. And there’s no stone to steal mass from. He can’t complete the change. She chuckled, full of malice. We are strong. And smart.

  I faked weakness, going limp, withdrawing fangs. Screamed as if deadly wounded. Liver-eater snarled in victory and loosed hold. I raised hind claws and curled back. Reached. Dug into liver-eater’s unprotected belly. Latched on to neck with killing teeth. Just as Jane did when she was little cat.

  Liver-eater squeal was death scream. Deadly wounded. Liver-eater slashed fast, across face, single swipe, claws digging in, scoring deep. Toward my eye.

  I rolled, curling, throwing body. Flesh tore along cheek. Liver-eater claws caught travel pack at neck, snagging leather. I bit liver-eater bare foot-paw, sank teeth deep. Skinwalker energies flowed. Buzz of pain stabbed deep into tongue. Liver-eater paw . . . vanished . . . into gray place. And back. Liver-eater vaulted up, breaking window. Out. Into night. Trailing gray light and blackness. I gathered tight to leap. To follow.

  “Help. I need help.” Gasping voice.

  Glimpse of Rick, shaking head, rolling to side. Bleeding. Half lying on floor, half propped on overturned chair. Hand on neck, at ear. Metal of phone between fingers. Blood pouring across bare, wounded chest. Spreading fast. Dark red flood. No pulsing. Rick stared, eyes glassy with shock, wide with terror. Face white, bloodless. Spoke into phone, words slurred, voice low. “I’m at one-oh-two Walker Street in Barataria, just past A Dufrene Street.”

  I showed teeth, growled. Rick’s eyes focused. Breath caught. He looked to side. Metal grip of gun lay under edge of rug. I shoved off with hind foot, spun in midair. Jumped over him, raced out door, from lighted house into dark. Smell of liver-eater rot was strong here. A car’s heart started. I leaped long, from porch onto white car’s hood. Growled at windshield. Liver-eater sat in driver’s seat. Naked, in human form. Met eyes. Liver-eater face went bloodless. For long moment, world stopped. Jane surged to surface, seeing, thinking, Cherokee. One of The People.

  His eyes on travel pack. His mouth moved, sound almost lost beneath soft roar of car. He knew me/us for skinwalker. “Ani gilogi,” liver-eater said. Panther clan. Gray light sparkled over liver-eater. Face shifted into . . . something else. Blond-brown hair, narrow nose. Very young white man. She saw. She knew. Liver-eater spun wheel, hit gas. Car pivoted, bucked. I wrenched control from her, screamed with rage. My claws dug in, sliding, raked paint across hood. Slung off. Into air. Landed hard. Rolled. Snarled. Car sped off, spewing shells, pattered over pelt.

  Shift. Now
. Please, she asked.

  Liver-eater runs. I snarled. Want to follow, to hunt. But car was fast. Gone. Away from territory. I huffed, satisfied. Victor. Padded beneath flowering bush full of blooms, long arms reaching from high, trailing over ground. I slunk into dark. Sat, panting. Thought of Jane. She reached into head, into thoughts. She took control. Remembered her snake, its twisted shape.

  But Beast was big, had taken mass from rock. Jane needed to send mass back; thought of boulder in garden. Thought of gold scraped onto surface, renewed after rains. Thought of gold necklace tight on throat.

  Mass to mass, stone to stone. Sound of drums rose in night, heard only by me and by her. Soft whistle of flute. Mass to mass, stone to stone. Scent of herbed flame rose in memory. Shadows danced against stone walls. Shifting. Pain. Painpainpain. Mass decreasing, moving through earth, back to rock with gold on it. Mass to mass, stone to stone. Dark magic.

  Complex magic, she thought, becoming alpha, becoming Jane. Weight and muscle, skin and bone, slid away, through the grayness of the place between. Back to rock. Back to yellow rock. In my mind, I heard rattle of old bones, and crack of boulders.

  I came to myself under a bush, dirt and grass under me, something sharp stabbing my face. I brushed a shell away. I was itchy, sticky with sweat, and being dive-bombed by mosquitoes. I pushed to a sitting position, running my hands over my face, along my sides to my hips and down to my toes. Ten fingers, ten toes, five on each limb, and all where they belonged. I thought I was pretty much my usual size, too; I didn’t want to add a hundred pounds of muscle and bone just so Beast could be Big Cat whenever she wanted. When I worked with mass, I was always afraid I’d come back all wrong, and this shift had been a first in many ways. Beast had never forced mass upon me, had never taken over and made choices against my will. And I had never given back mass through the gray place. I didn’t have time to worry about all that now.