Touch of Evil (41 page)

Reiner looked at his report again and frowned deeply. Antoine sent out tendrils of magic, to eavesdrop on Reiner's thoughts. The report says male. But I am to "cooperate." "It's a diplomatic courtesy," they told me. He says a female was lost. There is a female, and she has been especially difficult to handle. An oddly amusing thought crept into Kommissar Reiner's mind. There would be less paperwork to fill out if the Frenchman took the cat. Wilhelma Zoo has not yet opened . . . perhaps the tiger and our guest deserve each other.

"Very well, Herr Monier, if you would like to see a female tiger, we were able to rescue one. It is at our station house, awaiting transport to Wilhelma Zoo. If you can identify this cat as yours, you are free to take it."

Antoine frowned. " Identify it? What would you consider identification? I certainly don't brand or tattoo my cats."

Reiner shrugged. "You said it was nursing. That should be obvious, at the very least. But any particular feature you remember—a missing claw, or damaged ear. A distinguishing feature that we can verify before you see the cat." The words were very clear and seemingly

innocent. But Antoine understood the inspector perfectly. Now he would just have to decide how to make good on his puffery. How in the world would he be able to positively identify a cat he'd never seen? Well, Fiona always said I was the

creative one in the family . . .

Antoine turned on his heel and started back to his van, shaking the snow from his designer linen slacks after each step. Over his shoulder he shouted, "As you wish, Kommissar. I will meet you there and we will collect my cat." Image

Tahira woke to heat burning her skin. She tried to lift her front leg, but the drug still coursing through her made it difficult. Again she pushed against the door of the wire cage. It was weakening; bending outward, but she struggled against unconsciousness with each attempt. At least she'd been able to remove the dart quickly and had only pretended to be unconscious until the men left. But she'd never tried to hold her form beyond dawn, and it was already long past. Sunlight was slowly crawling up the wall, throwing shadows of herself, and her prison, across the floor.

I can't pass out. I must hold my animal form or they'll kill me. Well, they or her family. It hardly mattered which. She drew in a painful breath, snarled lightly, and searched ever more desperately for the waning moon magic. Every muscle was in agony and she could feel her bones straining to break and reform to human. The heat was

unbearable and she looked longingly at the bowl of water just a few feet away. But I don't dare move. If I concentrate on anything but holding this form, I'll lose control. I've risked us all with my recklessness. Rabi wouldn't have wanted this, no matter what his fate.

She scanned the room again for the hundredeth time since she'd been brought here. There must be something she could use to free herself. If only the cage wasn't wire mesh. With bars, she could turn human and slide between them to free herself. If she was at full strength, she could easily break open the door, but the drugs from the policemen, combined with whatever her original captors had given her made that impossible. She could barely open her mouth enough to pant to cool herself.

Why had she planned this so stealthily that nobody knew where she was? If she had just told Grandmother, or Uncle Umar, they would have supported her. It was only stubbornness that had caused Grandfather to refuse to send a rescue party for Rabi in the first place. Apparently Tahira had inherited that stubbornness.

She readjusted her paw and winced. The light tingling under her fur was turning into

prickling—stinging pinpoints like thousands of tiny ants were crawling and biting every inch of her body. The heat was increasing too. The constant whir of the exhaust fan buzzed in her ear. An abrupt crunching, grating sound sounded like it was directly overhead. She jumped when two sharp metallic slams echoed through the room, and she suddenly recognized the noises. She must be in a basement and the parking lot was directly above her. Voices now, in that harsh language that she didn't recognize. She wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. What was she going to do?

Hallo, Tiger. Was ist lhr Name?

Tahira looked up and around. Nobody was in

the room. She glanced at the barred window, but the sunshine was blinding to her sensitive eyes. The language was the same as she was hearing outside the door, but she didn't understand where it was coming from. Was there a microphone in the room?

Parlez-vous le français, le Tigre de

Madame?

Was that French? Tahira shook her massive

head. If she was starting to talk to herself in delirium, shouldn't she at least be able to understand the language? She growled again, and a startled yipe followed when her jaw snapped. It was starting. She couldn't hold it off anymore. She was going to change right here in front of witnesses and her family would be hunted like rabbits and slaughtered.

Do you speak English, tiger? We're running out of time!"

For heaven's sake! The voice was in her head!

There was a distinct American accent to his words and relief flowed through her. She tried to think of what to say. Well, not quite say. She thought the words in her mind. Uhm, yes—I speak English. Where are you? Who are you?

Merde! At last! My name is Antoine and

I'm in the outer room. Listen to me carefully. You are Sazi, correct?

Her head raised in unconscious reaction and she roared loud and long. I am not Sazi! I am Tahira of Hayalet Kabile!

The guards in the outer room with Antoine jumped with the tiger's roar. Hayalet Kabile. Where had he heard that phrase before? Hayal . . . Oh for the love of —How could he forget? It was just mentioned at the last council meeting. The Hayalet Kabile were known as the "Ghost Tribe." The weretigers that lived along the Turkish/Iranian borderlands had declined to attend the great meeting of shapeshifters all those centuries ago. They were mentioned at the Sazi council meeting because Ahmad had brought along a clipping from the Discovery Channel Web site that said there had been a sighting of a supposedly "extinct" species of tiger, the Caspian, just last fall. The annoying werecobra, representative for the snakes, had asked what Antoine intended to do about it, since the Caspians were well known to be shifters, and he was the representative for the cats.

But the Hayalet Sahip, the head of the tribe, had refused an invitation to talk. Now there was one in the next room. Based on the roar of pain, she wouldn't be able to hold her form much longer. She was about to break the primary rule of both the Sazi and the Hayalet cultures. What a diplomatic nightmare!

"Merde!" he whispered harshly.

"Did you say something, Herr Monier?" Kommissar Reiner said, his mouth curled slightly in disdain. "Are you ready to make your identification of your cat?"

Antoine drummed his fingers on the table

sharply. If he could only talk to the tiger—make her understand what was at stake. . . . Yes, perhaps. He turned sharply and reached for the doorknob, startling the inspector. "One moment, Kommissar. I've forgotten . . . my . . . uh, I'll be right back!"

He raced outside and pressed outward quickly with his waning magic. The tiger was directly under him.

Tahira, please listen to me. We don't have much time.

No response. But he could smell her fear, just behind the bars of the window.

Tahira of the Hayalet Kabile. I am Antoine Monier of the Sazi. Will you please speak to me? You are in great danger.

Another roar, powerful and haughty. You need not worry about me, Sazi. I will end my own life before the humans see me in my day form. This doesn't have to happen, Tahira. I can help you. I've convinced the police that you're one of my tigers. But I need your cooperation A snort of derision, but hope was replacing the fear. And who are you that you believe you can own a tiger?

Antoine walked out toward the van. A pair of pigeons pecking at gravel exploded into the air just as he reached the door. He managed to stop

himself from automatically leaping into the air after them. It's a complicated story, Tahira. But I and my cats entertain in shows all over the world. One of my tigers, Simon, was killed in the woods where you were held. But I have another Bengal named Babette. She just had kittens. I've convinced them that you are Babette.

Her voice sounded suspicious but intrigued. But even a human can tell the difference between a nursing and non-nursing tiger. Uhm . . . can't they?

Antoine opened the van door and reached inside to grab a clipboard. He flipped his long braid back before swinging the door closed. He smiled and paced quickly along the edge of the carefully cleared walkway, expanding on his daring plan. I don't know many humans who are willing to get close enough to check. But I'm an alpha, and have excellent illusion abilities. It would help if have any other identifying marks—perhaps ones that the officers have already seen? I promise that once the police have released you and are no longer watching, I will get you back to your Kabile—your tribe.

Her soft alto was sad. I will be dead to them. I'm already an outsider. I disappeared without permission, trying to save my brother. But I didn't find him, and now I have bargained with a Sazi. I will be exiled . . . or killed. She planned to cooperate. Thank heavens. A

crunch of gravel behind him said another vehicle was arriving. He turned to see the occupants. Several of the members of the team from the forest were returning and he was out of time. So you will allow me to assist you? The moon magic is nearly gone, but my power can hold you in form—if you'll allow me to. But I need something to identify you.

I . . . you can hold someone past the dawn?

But only sahibs hold that much power! Still . . . if you believe you can—I am missing part of my left ear.

Curious. What could have damaged a

Saz—a shapeshifter— enough . . . A touch on Antoine's shoulder made him jump. Annoying that he hadn't heard or smelled the inspector walk up behind him. Distractions could be costly at this stage. "Herr Monier? Are you quite ready? The zoo is now open and if the cat is not yours, we must make a call to them."

"Yes, of course, inspector. Sorry for the delay." As he followed the inspector through the door, he threw a burst of magic ahead of him. He felt it penetrate the steel door in front of him and cover the tiger in the cage. The illusion was subtle, but he had to cast it broadly. Even Tahira would be able to see it when the time came. But he felt her shifting stop.

"How might we identify your tiger, Herr Monier?"

"There are several ways." He thrust the clipboard toward the inspector with feigned annoyance.

"These are the customs forms for my animals. I thought you would want to see that I do indeed have a female Bengal with kittens."

Kommissar Reiner shuffled through the papers that Antoine recognized as the bill of lading, and confirmed for himself that Antoine had several different species of cats, in both genders. And, yes, there was a female Bengal. "There are no identifying features mentioned on this form."

Antoine forced his voice into a slightly

condescending tone. "No, there are not, Kommissar Reiner. As you can see, there is

nowhere on the form to insert them. It might be something to consider mentioning to the appropriate department. But, Babette—my female—is missing a piece of her left ear. And, as I said, she recently gave birth and is nursing."

He stared blankly at a print of a famous painting on the wall as the Kommissar questioned his men. No, they didn't notice whether the cat was nursing. That would require far too intimate contact. Even the dart didn't put the cat completely under. Yes, there was part of the left ear missing. It was in the report. Antoine suppressed a smile as the inspector reviewed the form.

The Kommissar smelled disappointed to find the written note about the defective ear on the paper, but he dutifully cleared his throat and removed a large ring of keys from his pocket. "It appears we are in possession of your tiger, Herr Monier. But I would like to see for myself that the cat is nursing. Tigers often fight in the wild and in captivity, so a damaged ear is not terribly—"

"Uncommon?" asked Antoine, with a sly smile. He really doesn't want to let me win. But I already have. Thank God. He concentrated on Babette and the cubs, let the memory of watching her nurse fill him until it was fixed in his mind. He felt for Tahira in the next room and let his magic bleed outward, blur the image of her belly until it matched the one in his mind. He shivered as the magic tied them together. He could almost see her in his mind now.

Reiner raised his brows. "Indeed." He swung open the steel door on oiled hinges and held it open so that Antoine could enter first. The negative pressure fan that kept the parking lot exhaust from filling the room assaulted Antoine's ears and he wondered how Tahira had managed to stay sane. He stepped inside and got his first look at the woman, the tiger, he was helping. Her wide golden eyes looked startled as she inspected her chest and stomach. A burst of surprised scent quickly disappeared into the fan's flow. Antoine's followed the stare and he swore under his breath. He'd said it himself! She was a Caspian tiger, and that particular subspecies has a mane similar to a lion's with long belly fur.

Before the Kommissar could get past him to see, Antoine concentrated carefully and blended the memory with the reality, like melting photographs into a single image.

He could see her surprise as her body betrayed her eyes. It was only when she ran her own nose over her fur that the illusion was dispelled. She froze when he spoke into her mind again.

You will need to greet me as though we are friends, and— He felt embarrassed to say the next words, but it had to be done. Well . . . I will also—and I do apologize—but I will have to touch your stomach to prove to the inspector that you are nursing.

Tahira started at the statement and immediately looked up. She felt her heartbeat race when she finally saw her benefactor. He was incredibly handsome, slender and fit. His blond hair was slicked back from his face, and the confident greengold eyes grabbed her attention. He was so very young looking! Could he really be a sahip at such an age?