his self-description. “You might have seen an old photograph of me and thought, ‘He was a good-looking chap when he was young.’ But you’d never have let me kiss you, which I full well intend to do again, just as soon as we get past this.
“But for now, I have work to do.” He kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to my cheek. “Later, love.” Bruiser turned and moved away from me, tapping on his cell as he moved. I watched him go, my eyes moving down his body. He had a very nice body and a perfect butt. It was one of his best attributes. And he was right: he wouldn’t have been even slightly attractive to me if he was wearing dentures, a lifetime of wrinkled skin, adult diapers, and was perched on an adjustable bed. He’d have been a horny old man at best.
Love. He’d called me love. Twice. And then there was Eli, perfectly human and perfectly delightful, with a nature that matched mine, and a set of abs that would make the Madonna—the original Madonna—lust. And Rick. My heart twisted at that thought. Yeah. Rick. I was so screwed up.
Leaving the guys to work and the vamps to worry, I climbed on Bitsa and headed across the river and into the woods and wetlands. I pulled the bike off the road and hid her in the brush. Bending over the front tire, I raked the gold nugget necklace across the sidewall in lieu of a rock, and hoped it would work as well as a homing beacon in case I got lost. I stripped, folded my clothes on the bike seat, grabbed my large winter go-bag, my emergency mountain lion tooth, which I used to make shifting easier and less painful, and walked into the woods a short ways, the soles of my feet protesting.
Shifting in the sudden cool spell meant more clothes to leave with the bike and more clothes to carry with me, but I needed to get into my Beast. I was feeling uncertain and edgy and Beast, well, Beast never had those feelings. She was all about hunting and eating and sleeping. As long as there was food, she was happy. I needed some of that simplicity, even if it was a bloody simplicity.
I sat on a log at the edge of a bayou, with my go-bag on my neck, adjusted to allow for Beast’s neck girth. I was shivering, my skin pebbled, and my breath was blowing white clouds. The waning moon was reflected in the black water.
I gripped the fetish tooth with both hands, and tried to find some sort of peaceful mind-set. I usually needed to meditate to have a less painful shift, though lately I wasn’t as picky. In fact, I’d shifted in some really unusual places and emotional states.
Holding the tooth, I closed my eyes. Listened to the plink of water moving across the earth, the susurration of the wind, the beat of my own heart. Beast panted inside me, ready, eager to hunt, more eager than she had been since she came into contact with an angel. I still didn’t know the outcome of that encounter and from her reticence about the subject, might never know. Beast wasn’t talkative at the best of times, and had become downright closemouthed about Hayyel and what changes the angel had wrought in her.
I slowed my heart rate and let my muscles relax. I stretched out on the log, shivering. I sank deep inside, my consciousness falling away, remembering only the fetish tooth. The notes of a wood flute, soothing and mellow, like the one on the CD player in Aggie’s sweathouse, filled my memory. I smelled the cleansing herbs of a smudge stick, and I dropped deeper, into the dark within. The place of the change within me seemed bigger inside than I remembered, more hollow, a large cavern branching off into other dark places. It had a sense of far-flung echoes and the resonant plink of distant water.
As I had been taught so long ago, I sought the inner snake lying inside the tooth’s root, the coiled, curled snake deep in the cells, in the remains of the marrow, the DNA peculiar to all animals on earth. For my people, for skinwalkers, it had always simply been the inner snake.
I dropped down into it, like water flowing through the bayou, like gators swimming in long, swirling water- glides. Grayness enveloped me, sparkling and cold; the world fell away.
My breathing deepened. My bones slid. Skin rippled. Pain, like a scalpel, slid between muscle and bone. My spine bowed hard.
My nostrils widened, drawing deep. I gathered paws under me, ear tabs flicking, listening, scenting. World was bright with greens and grays and silvers, the colors of night to big-cat eyes. Clear and sharp. I yawned widely and chuffed. Jane had left steaks back at dead, not-dead Bitsa. Jane was tricky. Wanted me to take tooth back.
I stood and stretched through belly and spine, back legs and front legs, paws flexing into old wood of log. I shook, pelt moving over body, loose. Predators had sunk claws into pelt, and found no vital organs beneath, pelt sliding across instead. Beast had killed other predators who thought they would win. Foolish predators.
I lifted tooth in teeth and trotted back through pine trees to road and bushes where Jane had hidden Bitsa from any
Tilted ears. Felt through ground on belly, heard through air. Stampstampstamp. Knew that sound. Stood slowly. Opened mouth and pulled in air over scent sacs in mouth, with long, soft
I didn’t answer. I padded into wind, testing, tasting, feeling vibrations with paw pads on ground. Big prey. I found good place to watch and leaped to tree limb hanging over narrow path to water. Good place to hunt.
Stampstampstamp, fastfastfast. Running, trotting, big prey. Only one. But big.
Waited for prey to come, paws tight under belly. Eyes on path. Small hooves got closer.
Huge black creature trotted into view. Boar. Big boar. Big teeth curling up from mouth. It raced under limb.
I leaped. Landed on boar’s back, claws gripping through coarse hair of stubby mane. Killing teeth biting down at base of skull. Found only hard fat and muscle. Boar stumbled with force of Beast, but did not fall. Screamed, pig scream. Started running. Raced through scrub, Beast on back. Branches hit Beast.
Beast bit down again and again, shaking hard, tearing flesh. Spurt of blood. Hot. Tasty. Boar bucked like horse, jumped high and twisted body. Beast held tight with claws in boar haunches and shoulders. Bit down again. Boar ran, fastfastfast through woods, screaming.
Boar ran under downed tree, resting across path. Log hit Beast in head. Ripped Beast off boar. I fell. Boar spun. Squeal changed to sound of anger. Boar attacked. Shaking head, Beast raced back along path and leaped high to stump of broken tree. Boar jumped. Teeth and tusks ripped at Beast’s paws and legs. Boar was too close. Beast was not able to leap or fall onto boar.
Boar stood up on hind legs and jumped high, tusks stabbing. Beast spun in midair, long stubby tail spinning. Killing teeth caught boar under chin. Deep in blood-rich flesh. Blood spurted over Beast. Hothothot.
Beast did not reply. Beast tore into boar stomach and ate. Good tasty bloody hot meat. Good pig-boar.
