Hunter's Moon.htm (39 page)

Couldn't breathe. No air. I started seeing spots and white bursts of flowers. I felt Sue's eyes open for a brief instant. Jerry stood above her, his face expressionless. He was blurry through the thick plastic sheet that he held over Sue's face. She couldn't fight. I couldn't fight.

I don't want to lose you, I thought at Sue. It was my last thought. The flowers collided and grew until my vision was white. Then the world slipped away.

Chapter 31

The air smelled like lush exotic flowers. The mid-day sun heated the cloud of mist over the porch where I stood into a golden blanket that was suffocating enough to even silence the insects. Imagine New Orleans in August.

This was worse.

I'm not good at waiting under the best of circumstances. I'm patient as all get-out but patience is a skill. Waiting, though… it removes choice. It's out of my control. Makes me tense.

Sue was still unconscious. Over a week had passed. Bobby saved her life and mine, but he could only do so much. They're not completely positive that she's alive. Her body is working but that could just be me. Breathing with her, my heart beating in unison with hers— it's become unconscious. I only know she wasn't in my head.

Carl has spent hours on intercontinental calls with top Sazi doctors, but there aren't enough mated pairs in the world for them to know— and I'm the only one to have ever mated to a full human. Naturally. Just my luck.

Of course we had to tell Carl everything because he went on the plane with us to the island. Bobby lost a lot of energy and had to feed. Carl's dealing with the knowledge. Kind of.

John Corbin arrived on the island yesterday with a psychiatrist from one of the big packs. Elizabeth Perdue, M.D., Ph.D. Dr. Perdue, Betty, is a specialist in "normalizing" the Sazi experience. Not for me; for Carl.

John is completely fascinated with the whole shapeshifter thing. He laughed that he has a couple of patients who swear that a dog once talked to them. Until now, he's just been tolerant and treated it as a mild psychosis. Even though he's sworn to secrecy, I'd be interested to watch his next session with those people.

He's been as excited as a kid at Christmas, being able to spend hours talking to Dr. Perdue. He told me that he's been on a waiting list for one of her seminars for almost a year. He said she's done some really cutting edge research papers about treating human trauma victims. Laura thinks he's at one of her seminars. We used the same story with Carl's people. He had to do some juggling in the office to be here. They'll even have seminar materials to bring home, from a talk that was already in the works a few months from now.

I didn't even know they did waiting lists for psychiatric seminars. Live and learn.

Bobby wasn't pleased at having to tell both John-Boy and Carl. He told me that telling them had been "approved" by the Council. If the approval hadn't come through, Bobby would have killed them. I reminded him that they've been Family for years. Nobody will talk.

He just hissed. He was in snake form at the time.

Later on he decided that having another doctor and psychiatrist who can keep their mouths shut could be useful to the Sazi. If Carl can get a grip.

I watched Bobby's multi-colored body slither down a mossy trunk toward an unsuspecting seagull. Loops of him were still draped like garland on the lowest branch. We measured— nose to tail, he's thirty-three feet long when he hasn't eaten. He loses some length with a full stomach. He can take down a full-grown goat as a single meal. I'm still fascinated by watching him hunt and hey, there's nothing better to do.

He's patience personified, but fast as a rattler. If he can get his teeth into prey, it doesn't escape. After he catches something, he wraps his body around it, and then slashes at it with a mouthful of sharp teeth and eats it by swallowing it whole in slow gulps. Like he had Jerry, except for the swallowing part. He has a vindictive streak too. Eye for an eye.

Jerry tried to suffocate Sue. Bobby wanted him to know what it felt like.

Wish I could have watched.

Bobby got a confession out of Jerry before he iced him. It apparently had nothing to do with Leo. I was simply competition. If getting rid of Sue would hurt me, Jerry would do it. He never figured there was anything wrong with doing it. He was more like Scotty than me. He wouldn't have lasted long though— Carmine had said no.

I'd found out a lot of stuff that happened during the airport incident. Like how Carmine and the boys got there: Jocko called them on his cell phone when he came to for back-up. Jocko always liked tag-teams.

Jocko still doesn't know anything about anything. He was hurt so he got a ride from Jake to a hospital. He'll be fine. Jake is unaware too, but Carmine had to be told since he's sleeping with Babs. One wrong scratch without silver and poof, insta-wolf.

Bobby moved a little too slowly this time. The seagull spotted him and jumped into the air just ahead of his mouth. It flew up into the canopy of trees and scolded him with a sharp piercing cry.

"Better luck next time," I called. He turned his head, still suspended in mid-air as though attached to a wire. His head is as big around as my fist and the middle of his long body has a diameter just slightly less than my waist. His red-gold eyes focused on me and he spoke. I still haven't gotten used to seeing that snake mouth move and hearing words come out. I keep expecting someone to step out from behind a tree and yell, "Gotcha!"

"You ssstartled it," he complained. "You owe me dinner." Burning coffee soared over the top of his jungle vine scent— almost indistinguishable from the surroundings.

"Excuses, excuses. You're just getting slow."

He flicked his tongue at me indignantly and lifted his body into the tree to wait for the next victim.

Snakes. They're all alike.

Wow. Suddenly I know how a snake thinks. I reflected on all I had learned in the past few days. It made what I had endured over the last year seem so unnecessary. I leaned on the railing of the porch and stared into the jungle. The island belongs to Carmine and Linda. It's a good place to lie low, both from the cops and the crooks. Leo had friends, and I worry more about them than Sommers and Vito Prezza combined.

I wish Babs had told me things, given me some clue how to survive in this new world. I should have listened to what she did say. But she was running from what she did. She didn't want to admit her transgressions; she tried to pretend that it— that I— never happened.

Babs committed crimes but they weren't what I expected them to be. It was okay for her to use her abilities to defend herself. It was okay to kill me. She screwed up when I lived and became one of them. That violated the Sazi's equivalent of the prime directive. It's a death sentence crime, and Bobby is one of the executioners.

As Bobby tells it, any crime that a Sazi commits which would result in imprisonment in a human jail past any full moon puts you in Wolven's arena. They are judge, jury and executioner. No appeals. No second chances. The rule is simple. Break the law— whether or not you get caught by the humans, and discipline is swift and harsh. Either you are beaten or killed. And the beating isn't like a slap on the wrist. You get thumped on either by your pack leader or by a Wolven agent. The methods used depend on the type of animal doing the discipline. Could be claws, teeth— or, in Bobby's case, being crushed.

There's a bank of, lawyers to defend a Sazi in human courts in case the crime is minor. If it's major… the Defendant won't be showing up. Ever.

Since Babs attacked me in self-defense it was the equivalent of a misdemeanor. For that Bobby would have just slapped her around a bit. But her dumb move was not to tell them I survived. Plus, she didn't mentor me. If you do accidentally bring someone over, you're supposed to make sure that they are trained in the ways of the Sazi. She was supposed to teach me to hunt and instruct me on the use of my magical abilities— I didn't know I had any— to make sure that no humans ever see us. That's their second big rule. Bobby was impressed at how I handled not being seen, using the hotel room for my changes.

Babs's crimes got her a beating. It was bad enough that she's been laid up for almost a week now. Death and pain. Typical Family enforcement, although Bobby didn't like the comparison.

Bobby also did something that he called "claiming damages" on my behalf. Apparently, I was entitled to thump on her myself for making me a wolf. But I didn't know to ask and there was no family or pack to ask for me so he took the role of "concerned protector."

Babs didn't look real pretty for a few days, and still isn't quite herself. Bobby was thorough. But she was surprised not to be killed outright; she had expected to die. That's why she hid the truth. She was afraid.

He was lenient but didn't have to be. Wolven stands behind their people. Whatever decision the field agent makes is what goes. I would think that would lead to some abuses, but when everyone can smell lies I suppose that makes the thought less attractive. Bobby told me that he's in for a beating himself from his supervisor, Fiona Monier, a French cougar with a mean streak.

Wolven agents get full latitude when watching and enforcing, but aren't supposed to get involved. Helping Sue and me with Leo, and killing Jerry when he was suffocating Sue will get Bobby in trouble. He told me as much in the hangar but I didn't understand then. I guess the comment about taking a strip of hide is literal. Ouch.

Bobby's hoping to show mitigating circumstances. If he had done his job quicker, Leo wouldn't have been around to kidnap Sue. Of course, saying that he didn't do his job probably won't win him a friend, either.

I've been getting a crash course in the rules over the past couple of days while we've been waiting. It kills time. That's what I keep telling myself. On the plus side, it is fascinating.

I've also been getting biology lessons. I found out from Bobby that since I became Sazi, my body clock has slowed down to a crawl. We live decades longer than humans. Some Sazi have even survived centuries although that's rare.

Also, doctors are no longer necessary. Alphas can heal almost anything. I'm not that powerful, but I can probably drop the health insurance. Never did like the HMO, anyway. For serious wounds to non-alphas, the Sazi have "healers", who use magic to mend wounds— like Bobby had.

When I woke up in the plane hours after Jerry tried to kill us, I was healed but I couldn't feel Sue. I tried. I blew open every door, attached every connection I could, but nothing worked. Her body is living. I know. It's part of me now. I feel each breath, every heartbeat. But the part that's Sue, that indefinable spark of consciousness, is missing.

I left Bobby to his hunt and walked in the cabin. I laughed when I first saw the place. Calling this a cabin is like calling the Taj Mahal a bungalow. Forty-five hundred square feet on the first floor. The upstairs is the same.

Betty and John were earnestly talking at the kitchen table. Betty's dark blonde hair was in a bun at the back of her neck. She was wearing a white cotton tank top and shorts that stretched tight over heavy thighs. Betty tells me that she's a grey wolf, same as me, and I know she is because she smells like one. She doesn't strike me as a wolf though. It's hard to explain. She's supposedly the second most powerful female in the Colorado pack but she doesn't smell aggressive. She smells steady and warm, a calming presence. Like John-Boy. I'm having a hard time thinking of her running through a forest or ripping out a deer's guts.

I moved past them. Betty watched me out of the corner of one eye. I could feel it. She's been watching me a lot. She's tried to talk to me, tried to initiate some sort of therapy but I've avoided her. What's to discuss? If Sue lives, life is good. If she dies, I go with her. Not much else to say.

Good morning, gorgeous! I whispered into Sue's mind. She lay on a polished brass poster bed in a room with bamboo pattern wallpaper, A sea-soaked breeze ruffled the curtains on the French doors and caught the fan blades spinning overhead. The fan and the rustling lace were the only sounds in the large muggy room. It was only slightly cooler inside than out. I hate the heat but quiet is a nice change.

Betty and John both told me that a person in a coma can hear. They comprehend but can't respond.

I tried to ask Carl what might help bring her out of this—he is the medical doctor. He just snorted and said, very annoyed, "Why ask me? I don't understand a damn thing that's going on. Go ask the snake or the wolf in the next room." Then he took another swig straight from a nearly empty bottle of rum.

Okay then.

The teak floors creaked under my weight as I walked toward the bed. I sat down lightly on the edge. Sue still looked pretty rough, what with the surgery and then the near-suffocation. I watched her sleep. I keep telling myself it is just sleep. I moved a strand of hair from her pale silent face. The breeze pushed it back. Someone had placed her hands on her stomach, one over the other. Only the slow movement of her chest and the faint color in her cheeks reminded me that she's still alive. I touched her hand, slipped my own through it and squeezed softly. There was no tingle to the touch. Her scent was flat, like sterile soil with no breath of wind. That worried me the most.

"How are you doing today?" It felt strange talking to her like this. I'd rather be doing something— hitting a wall, screaming, fighting. Anything but just waiting. If I threw myself off a cliff at least I'd feel something. But I don't dare injure myself. She's too fragile.

My ears picked up sound from the next room and I looked up sharply.

"We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for a special report," came a loud voice-over. I didn't even know that there was a signal to the island. I decided to listen in.

"This is Erin Stewart coming to you live from the 7 News Center."

Erin Stewart? She's from back home. I took my hand out of Sue's and stood. I walked toward the living room. I stopped in the doorway and leaned on the jamb. Linda was sitting on the couch, facing away from me. The television was on and the pretty black woman with poofy hair was speaking.