Still Dead on Suvudu: The Dreg Files, Day 5

"I didn't want to be Keenan's," she went on, her words a rushed whisper on the silent road. "I didn't want the role of the future Alpha's mate. It wasn't me. I think it's why I was so drawn to you. You were human and you were handsome, and I knew I couldn't have you, either."

Anger stole in and squeezed his chest. "You slept with me so Keenan would reject you," he said coldly.

"Yes." Her voice cracked on the word, giving it less oomph than she probably intended. Lying now or lying then; it didn't matter. If he despised one trait in a person, it was deceitfulness. He'd seen and done too much in his brief life to be anything except forthright, and he felt he deserved nothing less from the people around him.

"I never thought they'd send you away," she said. "Truly, I didn't."

"Forget it," he snapped. "You got what you wanted--no Keenan and a new life elsewhere."

"But you didn't--"

"I said forget it." Ice coated his words. She flinched and he didn't care. He was finished with the conversation, and he felt like an ass for apologizing in the first place. No wonder she'd barely spoken to him all day. "Look, let's do this so we can save the next Alpha and go our separate ways."

She nodded, silent, her expression completely shuttered. They picked up the pace and veered into the woods a few minutes later. Tybalt waited while she undressed and shifted. He tucked her clothes under his arm, feeling oddly less vulnerable in the presence of a hundred-and-seventy pound cat than a five-foot-five woman.

He followed her through the woods, up the rocky incline of the mountains around them. She paused on the flat surface of a jutting boulder and crouched low. Tybalt knelt next to her, put her clothes down on a patch of dead leaves, then used the binoculars to peer through thick brown branches lightly dotted with spring leaves. Below them, about a hundred yards away, was the motel parking lot and rear rooms. He had a slightly obscured view of rooms twenty and twenty-one. A rusty VW Bug was parked sideways near both doors, the driver unconcerned with parking spaces.

"I don't see anyone," he whispered. He hadn't expected to find them hanging around outside smoking cigarettes. Halfies had a higher sun tolerance than full-Bloods, but they still scorched to death in about five minutes. It was a smelly, slow way to die, and he was grateful for the heavy clouds mottling the sky--spring rainstorms would be their ally today and help obscure the afternoon sunshine.

Minutes ticked down. A breeze picked up, rustling through the otherwise silent forest. The air thickened with the heavy scent of approaching rain. Next to him, Astrid tensed. Her long, thick tail swished.

Tybalt nearly jumped out of his skin when a long, loud roar rumbled across the mountainside--a furious sound only an incensed bear could make. Even Astrid's ears flattened. The lady-scream of a furious jaguar answered the bear. It was on. He couldn't see the fight, but they made it loud--roars and screams and snapping branches created a cacophony of fearsome noise.

Fearsome enough to draw the attention of the motel's occupants. The door to motel room twenty swung open. Tybalt squinted through the binoculars, taking in the man's thick paunch and stained wife-beater tee and the blotched-white hair. A second Halfie joined him on the porch, this one short and skinny--couldn't be older than fourteen, the poor bastard.

White Tee pointed to his left, up into the mountainside, his mouth moving. Kid nodded and ducked back into the room. A moment later, he raced outside in a hooded sweatshirt, a second kid of equal size and dress hot on his heels. They ran across the parking lot and into the woods, out of view.

"Leaves at least one, maybe two watching Keenan," Tybalt whispered, more for himself than Astrid. She could see without the binoculars. She looked at him and ran her thick tongue across whiskered lips. Her expression seemed to say Time to have fun?

She led the way on silent paws. Tybalt traded the binoculars for a gun and followed her down. At the tree line, they circled wide toward the blunt end of the L-shaped motel. Out of sight of the room, they crossed the parking lot to the constant sound of a bear and jaguar fighting. Very soon, he hoped to hear the shrieks of dying Halfies.

At the end of the L, Tybalt hazarded a peek around the corner. White Tee still stood in the doorway, arms folded above his belly, glaring into the woods. Astrid nudged his thigh with her head, and he looked down. Held up two fingers. She shook her head. Three fingers. Nod.

An extra Halfie, which meant two inside the room with Keenan. Tybalt held up his gun, then tilted his head. She gave another jerky nod, then stepped a little the side--ready to spring the moment he fired.

Tybalt took a steadying breath, adrenaline already rising to peak levels. He lived for this part of the hunt--the kill. He thumbed off the safety, swung around into view, and unloaded three rounds in quick succession. Two hit White Tee between the eyes, and the third struck his chest, right in the heart. White Tee didn't scream. He just slumped to the ground.

Astrid was a blur of brown and tan, and she dashed into the motel room at the same moment White Tee smashed into the sidewalk. Two voices began shouting. She roared once, and then someone screamed. Tybalt ran toward the room, swapping his gun for the fully-loaded Glock. A gunshot shattered something inside. A bitter taste splashed the back of Tybalt's tongue.

Two more shots rang out. Tybalt pressed his back to the wall just outside the door. A shot whizzed out the door and spider-webbed the VW's windshield. Something metal groaned and squealed. A second cat-roar joined Astrid's, and a cold wash of fear gripped Tybalt's heart. Man-like screaming started, then was cut off with a loud gasp.

Tybalt swung into the doorway, gun hand braced on his left palm. Blood splashed the floor and walls nearest the door in abstract patterns. Two broken Halfies lay in the mess, one near the door and one on the room's only king-sized bed. A large metal cage took up the rear corner of the room, its door broken and hanging by a hinge. None of it bothered him--he was used to blood and dead Halfies and general destruction.

But he stopped cold at the sight of a massive jaguar, larger even than Marcus, crouching over Astrid's prostrate body. Keenan's sheer mass of muscle and ebony fur dwarfed the smaller cat. Blood dripped from his canines onto the lighter fur of Astrid's exposed throat. She'd shown him her throat and belly, a gesture of submission to a dominant Pride member--why?

Keenan looked up, his copper eyes glimmering with rage and confusion and pain, and Tybalt understood immediately. The Halfies had been torturing him, and Keenan was losing the battle against his own beast. The blood on his teeth wasn't Astrid's, though, and with a terrible clarity, Tybalt knew that if it had been, he'd have shot Keenan without a second thought. But Keenan was fighting it.

The jaguar roared. Tybalt flinched and, as slowly as coursing adrenaline would allow, he lowered his gun to the floor. His body followed until he was crouched on his hands and knees, head lowered. Keenan growled. He gave Astrid's throat a sniff, then stalked across the room to Tybalt. Blood squished beneath his massive paws.

Heart jack-hammering against his ribs, Tybalt fought his initial instinct to show dominance to this creature. It would only get him killed. Instead, he lay on his side, then rolled onto his back, mimicking Astrid's submissive posture and hating himself for it.

Keenan snuffled against his throat, then down to his chest. Tybalt struggled to remain relaxed, and to not imagine those powerful jaws suddenly taking a bite out of his exposed belly. If Keenan licked his lips or even opened his mouth, Tybalt was sure he'd piss himself in sheer terror.

Instead, Keenan's entire body shuddered. He loped a few steps away, then collapsed on a semi-dry spot on the carpet. Tybalt sat up, struggling to breathe normally. Keenan started shifting back to human form. Human-Astrid bolted past him with a blanket in her arms and crouched, buck naked, next to Keenan. She draped the bed's coverlet over him and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. He must have replied, because she smiled.

Tybalt struggled to get up and finally made it to two shaky legs. The fighting had silenced outside. He peered out, over the slowly rotting body of White Tee, across the parking lot. Two naked people, one man and one woman, emerged from the woods, and he looked away. When he had his muscles back under control, he'd go back for Astrid's clothes.

For the moment, he leaned against the door frame, grateful to have the Felia Pride's next born Alpha back. Grateful, as well, for the unloading of a six-year burden of guilt.

#

The cryptic message Tybalt received two days later fell into the "I don't have time for this" column of current events. His world had complicated itself beyond reason, with one Triad Handler missing, another Handler off the reservation, and a lot of rumors swirling around about alliances, spells, and payback. His own Triad had been put back on rotation early to help search for the missing Handler.

Tybalt was patrolling the rear alley of an apartment complex, half a block from his Triad partners, when the text appeared on his cell: Church Street 1 Hour. He didn't recognize the number, and he didn't know how his had gotten out. The phone was for Triad-related calls only, and he hadn't given it to anyone in his four years as a Hunter.

Church Street had to mean the coffee shop from a few days ago. He hadn't heard from Marcus since being dropped off at his apartment an hour after Keenan's rescue. He was only a few blocks from Church. His partners would cover for him if he asked, which was why he was sliding into the shop's back booth less than an hour later.

He expected Marcus. He got Astrid. She strode toward him, bright-eyed and confident in her crisp suit jacket and skirt, even though it was one o'clock in the morning. He didn't get up as she slid in across from him. The waitress poured her a cup of coffee, then wandered back behind the counter to chat up the night cook.

Tybalt fiddled with his mug handle.

"Howard Castle testified in front of the Assembly of Clan Elders," she finally said. "Against Prentiss."

That had his attention. The Assembly was the ruling body of the city's Clans, with one elected Elder from each acting as sole voice of the Clan. Seamus was Alpha of the Felia Pride, but he was not the Clan Elder--that honor fell to his uncle, Marcus's grandfather. One day, the honor of Elder would pass to Marcus. That Castle had been called in front of the Assembly--something he'd never heard of with a human--was a big deal.

"What was their decision?" Tybalt asked without looking away from his cup of coffee.

"Prentiss was found guilty of conspiracy, kidnapping, and attempted murder of the Pride's Alpha."

He didn't have to ask what the penalty was for such a thing. "Has he been executed yet?"

"Sunrise. Keenan gets the honor of removing the bastard's head." She sounded disappointed. Perhaps she'd wanted to do it herself.

Instead of being happy that justice was served, he felt a surge of frustration. "You could have told me this over the phone, Astrid. I'm working. I have a job I can't just drop when you need me--"

"I needed to see you one more time."

He looked at her then, meeting her copper gaze. Her eyes glimmered a little too brightly. She seemed older than she had just two days ago, weary, but still very much like the teenager he'd once thought he loved. "Why?" he asked, no venom in the question, just bald curiosity.

"Because things are changing, Tybalt, and the Assembly..." She chewed on her lower lip. "The Assembly isn't going to continue rolling over for the Triads and allowing humans so much power over us."

Mental alarms clanged in his head. She knew the mind of the Assembly. Her actions during their brief time together had been predatory, skilled, and spoke of training. It all made sense. "You work for the Assembly now, don't you?"

She nodded.

"I thought they had a liaison."

"We do. Think of him as diplomacy and me as investigations. Things are changing, Tybalt, and the next time we meet may not be as allies. If it comes down to that, I want to know--no, I need to know you forgive me. I hurt you terribly six years ago, and I am truly sorry."

He still couldn't wrap his mind around what she was saying about the Assembly. Every inhuman species in the city either submitted to the rule of humans and the Triads, or they were hunted into submission. The Assembly, and by extension, the entire were community, had abided by the Triads' rules for a decade. Change meant conflict, and conflict usually meant bloodshed.

"Tybalt?"

"I forgive you," he said without thinking. And he did. At the time, being abandoned by the Pride felt like drowning--he didn't think he'd survive the loss. Then he found the Triads. He'd made a place for himself and earned a position in a family who would never abandon him. A family he'd have never found without her. "I think we both ended up where we were supposed to be, don't you?"

She smiled. "Yes, I think so."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Then Tybalt pulled some money out of his pocket and gulped down the last of his coffee.

"I need to get back," he said, sliding across the smooth vinyl to stand.

She remained seated, smiling up at him with a hint of relief softening the lines around her eyes. "Take care of yourself, King of Cats."

"You, too."

He left her in the coffee shop on Church Street and returned to his patrol with this new Assembly information nagging at the back of his mind. Astrid hadn't sworn him to silence. She gave it up freely, perhaps to thank him for his help with Keenan. It was his to do with as he wished.

Did he tell his superiors, or did he keep it to himself? And could he live with either decision?

He'd decide tomorrow; today he had a missing Handler to find.