running through the trees both in human and in animal form. The spy leopard had left his normal life for the city and the promise of power and money. He wasn't nearly as fast or as ruthless. Rio accorded the body the respect of his kind, burning it to a fine ash and scattering the remains before joining Elijah.
The third hunter was taken at dusk on the third day, and this time they waited until the last of the professionals realized what happened and hurried away from the scene of death. Elijah padded after the lone hunter, a grim elation spreading through him. The hunter had finally conceded defeat and was stumbling back to camp, horrified at the loss of his friends. He clutched his gun to him as if that single item could save him from the terrors of the darkened forest. The man winced when he heard the low moan of the clouded leopards. He ran when he heard the grunting cough answering the smaller cousins. He burst into the heavily armed camp, clothes torn, parasites on his body and his friends' blood on his clothes.
Armando reacted in his typical fashion. Aggressive, furious that his plans were thwarted and not in the least listening to the hunter's account of his nightmare hunt. Elijah had witnessed the scene many times in the past and knew his uncle was quite capable of erupting into extreme violence. His men knew it too, looking at one another uneasily as the lone hunter tried to explain his failure. Even in the high humidity, the heat of the forest, Armando wore his usual turtleneck sweater, stretched tight over his chest. It was his trademark, that soft expensive shirt that screamed of money and power. He was sweating, but his ego would never allow him to remove it. The leopard curled its lip in a silent snarl of contempt-of hatred.
'What the hell are you talking about?' Armando snapped, fingering his gun continually as a threat. His face twisted with black anger. 'I hired four big-game hunters. What's so damned hard about capturing a leopard? You're being paid enough money not to care whether I want the thing alive or dead. Throw a net on it. Wound it. I don't care how you do it. Tranquilize it. Do I have to think for you? If you fail me after the money I'm paying you, you aren't walking out of this forest alive and I can guarantee that. There are four of you and one of him. It can't be that difficult. So get the hell out of my sight and do your damned job.'
The man stepped back, this time careful to keep his rifle in front of him, ready to bring it up if he were forced to defend himself. 'You aren't listening to me, sir.' He glanced warily at the bodyguards, all armed to the teeth. 'There aren't four of us. The leopard killed Bob the first night. He just ignored the goat we staked out and went straight to the blind. We left Bob there to lure him in, all of us up in the trees with scopes. He took out Leonard the second night. Craig went last night. Whatever that thing is, he's a man killer. He's as cunning as hell. He didn't even eat them, it was as if he was playing with us all.'
Armando swore as he jumped to his feet. The hunter stepped back, gave way immediately. 'I don't like any of this; If Rachael isn't back at that hut tomorrow we get out of here. All of us are going to pay her a little visit.' When the hunter started toward his tent, Armando caught his arm and jerked him around. 'Not you. You have a job to do. You took the money, go get the leopard. Get out of here.'
Elijah crouched in the tree, hidden in the foliage overlooking the camp watching the last of the professional hunters reluctantly leave the safety of the site. He waited with endless patience, knowing the rhythm of the hunting camps. Talk died down when the mosquitoes came. Men slapped at the insects, tempers rising. The rain began, a steady downpour increasing everyone's misery. They were essentially city men, only the four hunters were professionals and now three of the four were dead. That put a pall over the campsite. Men disappeared into tents, leaving only the guards at the perimeters. All of them tried to shelter beneath trees. None paid attention to the branches above them. Still he waited, patient. Leopards were always patient. He didn't mind the insects or the rain. This was his world and they were the intruders. He settled down to wait, to get the rhythm of the camp and the men in it.
It was important to go in quietly, get the deed done and get out unseen. The camp was heavily armed. Elijah didn't want a bloodbath here in the forest. They didn't want an investigation. This had to be a stealthy, silent assassination. He crouched there in the bushes not ten feet from one of the sentries and watched his uncle. The light from the lamp illuminated the inside of the tent. One side remained open to give Armando a wide sweep of the area with his gun. And the gun was never more than an inch from his fingertips. One by one the lamps were turned out so that darkness settled over the camp.
The wind blew. The rain fell. Elijah waited until the guards began to grow sleepy. The leopard suddenly came to life. Elijah crept closer, using the freeze-frame, slow motion stalk of the skilled leopard. His focused gaze never left Armando moving around in his tent, gun inches from his fingers. Demon incarnate. Murderer. Every dark deed Armando had committed against his family raged in Elijah's soul. He slipped passed the first guard. The man looked right at him twice and never saw the leopard slinking into the camp.
A man emerged from his tent and stumbled to a nearby tree. He nearly stepped on the leopard, missing the creature by no more than a few inches. Elijah crept forward out of the man's path, gaining another yard. Armando went to the entrance and swept the area for the hundredth time, uneasy with the way the night felt. The rifle was cradled in his arms snug against his chest.
Elijah didn't take his eves off his target, lying hidden in the small shrubbery only a few yards from the tent.
Armando turned his back and the leopard crept forward in silence, moving like fluid over the uneven ground, paws cushioning the heavy body so there was no noise. Only the steady sound of the rain. Elijah paused at the entrance to the tent, careful to stay in the shadow where the light spilling from the lamp couldn't reach him. His gaze settled on his target, his muscles bunched, coiled tight until he was a living spring. He felt the power rush through him, over him.
As if sensing danger, Armando turned back, half lifting the rifle, his eyes searching the night frantically. The leopard hit him hard, driving him backward, teeth sinking into the throat. The powerful jaws crunched down hard in a crushing blow, but the teeth hit metal, not flesh. Elijah tried to power through the protective barrier, bringing up claws to rake at the exposed belly. The same coating of metal covered the soft parts of the body.
Armando had gone over backward, landing hard on the ground, dropping his rifle in the process. The jaws clamped harder, crushing his throat, cutting off all air in spite of his hidden armor. The knife, hidden up his sleeve, sprang into his hand, and he plunged it into the leopard's side repeatedly. The leopard hung on grimly, the yellow- green eyes boring into him. Armando thrashed wildly, but no sound emerged from his laboring throat.
A guard, alerted by the darker shadows, rushed to the opening of the tent, rifle to his shoulder. A second leopard dropped from the tree above, taking him to the ground in a stranglehold. It was done in absolute silence. Rio shook the man one last time to insure he couldn't possibly raise an alarm. He dragged the carcass inside the tent and doused the lamp, plunging the tent into darkness so there would be no shadows to give away the life- and-death struggle between the two combatants.
Rio partially shifted, catching Armando's wrist and twisting to rid him of the knife. He was already dying, black venomous hatred congealed in his eyes as he stared at the face of his nephew, into the eyes of the leopard that slowly crushed his airway, cutting off precious oxygen.
Elijah lay gripping the throat, his sides heaving and slick with blood. Rio nosed him, pushed at him in an effort to get him up and moving before they were discovered. Rio shifted into his human form. 'He's gone, Elijah. He's dead.' Just to be certain Rio checked the man's pulse. 'You're losing too much blood, come on, let's get out of here. Go for the branches just outside the tent.'
Elijah couldn't believe the monster was dead. He stared dumbly at Armando, at the open, glassy eyes and knew he looked on the face of evil. There was pain, but it was distant and far away. He pawed clumsily at the shut, ripping the material to expose the meshed braided steel plate beneath it.
'Elijah, we don't have much time.' Rio caught the large male around the neck and tried to pull the head around, away from the monster lying crushed and beaten. 'You're losing too much blood. You aren't going to survive if we don't get out of here now.' When the leopard remained standing over Armando's body, Rio changed tactics. 'Rachael's waiting, Elijah. She's afraid for us. Let's get home to her.'
The leopard lifted his muzzle and looked at Rio with sad eyes. Despair was there. Confusion. A deep, deep sorrow. Rio touched the furred head again. 'You're free. Both of you are free. Your life belongs to you now.' Rio shifted shape, taking his animal form, leading the way out of the darkened tent. Leading the way back to Rachael. Back to life.
Chapter Twenty
