impossible even for an agile man. No matter how he tried it, he simply wasn’t flexible enough to reach beneath and above his knee.
Reading his master’s dilemma, the shepherd’s lifesaving instincts instantly took over.
Cody’s heart jumped. “No, Charley,” he grunted from his near-delirium. But it was too late.
His faithful sidekick, whose life Cody had saved long ago, was settled on his haunches beside Ka-Wan’s leg, his rough tongue licking at the wound as though attacking one of Waldo’s bones, aggressively sucking the venom from it.
Never give up hope. Hope is a test. When you think all is lost, an answer will come to you. A solution will be found. A gift from the Creator?
It was working.
Though Cody was beginning to shake, and the pain that numbed his lower legs was intense, the numbness was not climbing higher. He looked straight into Charley’s eyes. The flashing download of thoughts slowed. He began a nimiipuutimpt chant to himself, slowing the words, lowering them deep in his throat.
He felt himself recovering, felt the blood flowing in his legs again.
Charley finished his licking. He stood up, stretched his legs and shook himself. He staggered across the cavern floor, looked back at Cody, put his head back and howled, a single, sustained, note.
A few seconds passed and, off in the distance, his song was answered with the same call.
Then Charley crumpled at his master’s feet.
Helplessly Cody watched the fire flicker out of his canine friend’s eyes until they were flat and cold and still.
Charley had taken Number Seven for himself.
The howl from the outside came again, this time mournful, echoing the sorrow Cody was experiencing.
Quickly Cody did his best to bind his wound with the strips he’d sliced from his pants. Reaching down to place his hand on Charley’s head, Cody held back his tears and stumbled after Androg.?
The far exit of the cave opened into a clearing in the woods. As Cody left the shelter, a flash of lightning made it clear that the clearing was empty. But his eyes instantly spotted Hamilton’s wet tracks, moving north.
Wincing at the pain of his cut leg and wobbly from the temporary paralysis, he followed the tracks till they entered the woods on the far side of the cave clearing.
Then lost all signs in the bramble bushes. Cody ducked and wove his way through, checking every inch for clues of passage. But without Charley along and his prodigious sense of smell, he was coming up empty- handed.
He’d gone half a mile when he stopped, squatting down behind a pin oak. He studied a bare circle of earth in front of him where the bushes had died out from what looked to have been a quickly-contained brush fire.
On one side was a mini-cliff, a sheer granite face dropping ten feet. If his night-vision had not been so keen he might have tumbled to his death.
Above the cliff were more tracks.
He needed to catch his breath anyway so he forced himself to be patient, studying the tracks for direction and estimating they were no older than a few minutes.
Where was Hamilton going? What kind of merry chase was his demented psyche leading him on?
Cautiously he stood up and, careful to avoid the precipice, walked across the bare circle back into the brush on the far side.
The bramble abruptly ended. A branch of the meadow was on the other side, and he could see the tracks clearly again. He was feeling stronger by the minute.?
The howls came again, answered from the direction of the zoo. It was as though one of the wolves had broken free and the other was still in Dave’s compound.
The animals were speaking to him, though he couldn’t imagine how they knew where he was. The wound in his leg throbbed to remind him. Of course, they can smell my blood. He could see it was bleeding through the makeshift tourniquet.
He howled back.
And then, limping along, he navigated between their responses, as though they were his own personal GPS system, until he knew he was closing in on Androg.
Back across the meadow, back through the brambles-as the howling from both sides warned him he was almost upon his quarry.
Back to the bare circle above the cliff in the midst of the tangled brush-that was no longer empty.
The howling ceased.
Oblivious to the rain, Wade Hamilton was waiting for him, leaning against an oak tree. A flash of light illuminated the red-suited devil.
“I was going to give you another minute,” the man said in a voice that no longer sounded even remotely human. The smile he flashed at Cody was a blood-curdling glimpse into the heart of darkness. “Can’t get enough of me, hunh?” he taunted. “I thought I’d made you Number Seven back at the cave. So I guess that number is still up for grabs.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Cody said. “You killed my dog.”
“Yeah, I’m a real prick,” Hamilton said. “I figured the faithful sniffer was your only shot, but it was a helluva long shot. I congratulate you. I hate dogs.”
“You also killed your favorite Amazon.”
Hamilton shrugged. “I’m not surprised you’re not more observant. I always thought your investigatory skills were wildly exaggerated by the fawning press. She wasn’t an Amazon, dear boy, she was dressed as my private Cupid. Designed the costume herself, especially for tonight.”
“You’re under arrest,” Cody said. “You have the right to remain silent-“
Hamilton’s demonic laughter overrode Cody’s attempt to Mirandize him. “There’ll be plenty of time for silence later,” he scoffed.
Then, in a torrent of words, he rushed on to boast about Androg’s murderous exploits.
He confirmed that the original idea was for it to be a contest between them. The survivor would get to kill the ace detective-or be killed by him. Hamilton shook his head. “I’d planned it from the beginning that I would get her before she could get me. If you want something done right, better do it yourself.”
Cody had lost track of the madman’s logic but saw there were now actual tears in Hamilton’s eyes.
The writer stared at him and held out an arrow. “Turns out, I don’t have the heart to live without her either,” he said. “Please.”
“Well, I’m not about to do you any honors,” Cody said. This criminal egomaniac man needed one way or another to pay for the lives he’d taken, starting with Charley’s. “I’m taking you in.”
“Are you indeed?”
This time Cody was ready. Before Hamilton could move his hand toward his bow, the hunting knife was in flight.
Its aim dead-on, the sharp knife pierced through the palm of Hamilton’s hand and pinned it squarely to the oak.
As Cody reached for his cuffs, Hamilton howled in pain and, with his free hand, yanked the knife free. This time the sound he emitted was more like the savage grunt of a wounded bear.
Grimacing through his pain, Hamilton brandished the knife at Cody. “Want it back?” he asked, his hand dripping blood.
In a lightning move Cody whipped the cuffs toward the writer’s knife hand, causing him to wince and howl with pain as the metal connected with his wrist. Then Cody pulled the chain forward, wrenching the knife free.
It fell to the soggy ground and Hamilton bent to retrieve it.
But not before Cody made his move, head-butting him and knocking him backward.
Still reaching for the knife, Hamilton fell on his face with a grunt.
Cody kicked the knife five yards farther into the tiny clearing. Then he turned back to the supine writer, and grabbed his left hand to cuff it.
He’d managed to click shut the cuff when Hamilton, with preternatural strength, reached for Cody’s belt with his right hand and pulled himself to his feet.
He spit in Cody’s face.
