Wild Rain (11 page)

Catching her face in his hands he stared into her eyes. “I need to know you know what you’re doing right now. I’m better out there,” he waved toward the open door. “I’m of more use to us out there. You can’t have a light, Rachael, it will just give away your position. You’ll have to make do in the dark and I’ll give you a gun, but you have to stay alert. Can you do that?”

Rio’s voice was a mere thread of sound. Rachael stared up at him, trapped in the ferocity of his gaze. His eyes were different, more yellow than green, pupils dilated and staring. A haunting, eerie, never-to-be-forgotten stare of a wild animal on the hunt. Her heart began to pound. “Rachael, answer me. I need to know.” A flicker of worry crept into the wildness in his eyes. His expression was grim. “Someone’s here.”

There was something entirely different about his eyes. She wasn’t mistaken. His eyes were enormous, wide, staring, an eerie calm about them, a dangerous intensity. His pupils, very round, were nearly three times as large as she thought a human eye would open, allowing him to see in the dark night. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. Rio never blinked. Never moved his gaze from her face. His eyes looked like marble or glass, all-seeing, all-knowing, a strange haunting, yet beautiful glow to them. “You must have excellent night vision.” The words squeaked out. Silly.

Rachael felt like a frightened child. She had a real enemy. She didn’t need to be making up supernatural beings and scaring herself. She straightened her shoulders, determined to recover. “I think they’ve found me, Rio. They’ll hurt you if you’re with me, it won’t matter that you don’t know anything.”

“It could be anything, but we definitely have an intruder. I need to know you’re all right, Rachael. I don’t want to come back in here and find you shot yourself by accident. And I don’t want you trying to shoot me.”

“Go, I’m fine. I’m not having any trouble seeing.” And she wasn’t. She had never had particularly great night vision, yet she seemed to be able to see much more clearly than before. Or maybe she was just getting used to the dim lighting in the forest. She only had one good hand and it was trembling badly, so she thrust it beneath the covers. Rachael wasn’t about to whine about feeling sick to her stomach from the wrenching pain of movement, not when he was going out alone to face an intruder.

He checked the gun, put it on the bed beside her. His palm slipped across her forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch. “Stay focused, Rachael.”

Rio was reluctant to leave her. Something told him he was replaying an old scene. He had a memory of touching her, her hair sliding through his fingers as he went into the night to hunt for an enemy. And when he returned... Something gripped his heart in a vise. “Rachael, be here when I get back. Stay alive for me.” He had no idea why he said it. He had no idea why he felt it, but it was an overwhelming need to warn her. Something terrible had happened, or maybe was about to happen, nothing really made sense to him anymore. There seemed to be memories in his head of Rachael that shouldn’t be there.

“Good hunting, Rio. May all the magic of the forest be with you and may fortune be your companion as you travel.” The words came out of her mouth, were said in her voice, but Rachael had no real idea where they came from.

She knew instinctively she was reciting formal ritual words, but she didn’t know what ritual or how she knew the words, only that she’d said them before.

Rachael wiped a hand over her face in an effort to wipe away things she didn’t understand. “I’ll be fine. I can handle a gun, I have before. Just be careful.”

Rio stared into her eyes for a long moment, afraid to take his gaze from her, afraid when he returned she’d be gone... or he’d find her dead, her body desperately attempting to protect their son—He jerked his head back, a ferocious rage and a terrible sorrow blending together into a roiling ball of emotions impossible to understand. “Stay alive, Rachael,” he repeated abruptly. A command. A plea. He forced himself to turn away from her and slip outside.

The change was already taking place in his heart and mind, the dangerous animal in him bursting free, fur rippling along his arms and legs, his body bending, contorting, muscles stretching and lengthening. He embraced the change, his chosen way of life, accepting the power and strength of the leopard in him, allowing it free rein there in the security of his territory. Rio stretched his arms, fingers splayed wide as his knuckles curved and claws scraped the floor of the verandah, then retracted.

The leopard was large. It sat in absolute stillness, head lifted to scent the wind. The many whiskers acted like radar, picking up every detail of the world around him. Ropes of muscle rippled with power and strength as the animal crouched and leapt for a large branch that curved upward and away from the house. The animal moved with the wind, high under cover of the canopy. Once the leopard looked back toward the house, noted the many streamers of creeper vines and the large lacy foliage that shielded the house from prying eyes. In the darkness, it would be nearly impossible to spot unless one knew of its existence.

The forest was alive with information, from the hum of insects and the warning cry of a bird. Rio moved quickly and silently along the wide branches, staying low, claws digging into wood as he climbed, retracting as he padded through foliage, careful not to disturb the leaves. The smaller of the two clouded leopards emerged from the heavy mist, lips drawn back in a snarl. Rio went perfectly still, crouching low, his head lifted to scent the wind.

The intruder was not human. At once the fierce temper of the leopard rose and spread with the violence of a volcano. Rio accepted the rage and ferocity, channeled it deep in the heart of the beast. He moved with greater caution, knowing he was being stalked, knowing one of his own kind had chosen to betray him. His lip lifted in a silent snarl, revealing large canines. Ears flat, the leopard began a slow freeze-frame stalk through the lush vegetation high above the forest floor. The wind carried the scent of his treacherous rival, pinpointing the location only yards from Rio.

Rio crept across a large branch far above the spotted leopard. It was male and large. The animal swung its head alertly, looking suspiciously into the tree where Rio crouched motionless. At once, Franz, concealed some distance away in heavy shrubbery, deliberately stepped on a small twig, snapping it in half. The sound was loud in the silence of the forest.

The spotted leopard stilled, sank down, staring alertly in the direction of the smaller clouded leopard. Rio took the opportunity to move closer, a silent, stealthy approach. Franz had risked his life. The larger leopard would kill him easily should it find the clouded leopard. And the larger, spotted leopard was definitely in hunting mode.

Rio moved like fluid over the tree branch, sprang silently to the branch below him, froze when the spotted leopard lifted its head to scent the wind. Fritz, several hundred yards farther from Franz, let out a low moaning cry that was carried on the wind through the interior of the forest. The spotted leopard crouched low, drawing back its lips, ears flat and tail low, in position for an attack, staring intently toward the sound.

Rio launched himself, springing agilely from above. The spotted leopard twisted at the last moment, sideswiping with a huge claw, raking Rio’s side but not entirely avoiding the deadly puncture of canines as Rio went for his throat.

Immediately the forest came alive with the sounds of battle, monkeys shrieking, birds taking to the air, flying fox leaping from tree to tree as the two large cats erupted into teeth and claws, rolling and ripping on the forest floor. Where there had been silence, there was now chaos, animals screaming warnings to one another as the deadly battle raged on. An orangutan, nestled for the night in his bed in the tree branches, threw a handful of leaves in disgust at the two cats as they snarled and fought in a dangerous ballet of sharpened claws and piercing teeth.

The leopards used their weight, contorting in nearly impossible positions, bending spines and whirling around, springing into the air and lunging for throats. The battle was brief, but fierce, the snarling, ferocious roars and grunts reverberating through the trees, straight up the canopy to the ominous rain clouds overhead. The clouds answered, pouring rain down. Although the drops barely made it through the thick canopy, it was enough to quiet the shrieking monkeys and settle the birds back under cover.

The spotted leopard rolled to break Rio’s hold, racing away, taking to the branches and moving quickly along the overhead highway to escape. Deliberately the angry cat went toward the last location of the smaller, clouded leopard. Rio gave chase, sending out a warning cough, but the spotted leopard was on Fritz, grabbing for the neck with wicked teeth, shaking the smaller cat viciously. He dropped it onto the ground below and took off just as Rio launched another attack. Claws raked the spotted leopard’s hindquarters. His yowl of pain sent the birds skittering again, but he kept going, digging into the branches with his claws to pull away.

Rio dropped quickly to the ground to assess the damage to Fritz. The larger spotted leopard had delivered a grave injury, but left the smaller cat alive. Rio hissed an angry warning. He had to fight his own nature, the need to go after fleeing prey. Fight back the temper smoldering in his gut, red-hot and demanding revenge.

There was no doubt in his mind he had faced one of his own kind, a cunning, intelligent mixture of leopard and man. This one had come to kill him. Rio knew most of his people; there were few left in the forest. Many were scattered in other countries and some chose to live as humans in the cities, but most were known to one another. Rio did not recognize the scent of his stalker, but he recognized the intelligence of the decision not to kill the clouded leopard in a fit of temper. The attack had been cold-blooded and well thought out in the short time available. The spotted leopard knew Rio would never leave the dangerously injured cat to track him. And that told Rio something else. His stalker knew he traveled with the two clouded leopards.

He looked cautiously around, making certain to scent the wind. His cough was a demand to the tree dwellers for information. The cry came from the troupe of monkeys overhead. Rio reached for his human form, allowed the pain to engulf him as ropes of muscle and sinew contorted, contracted and stretched. He crouched beside the clouded leopard, assessing the damage to the animal. The puncture wounds were deep. He clamped his hand over the holes and applied pressure, murmuring reassurances as he did so, ignoring the deep claw marks on his own skin.

“Franz, stay alert,” he ordered as he gathered Fritz into his arms. Rio had to keep pressure on the two puncture wounds as he raced through the forest, weaving his way between the trees, leaping over fallen logs, splashing through two small swollen streams, covering the uneven terrain as fast as he could. He was built much like a leopard with muscles meant for carrying large prey. He didn’t feel the burden of the clouded leopard, but in his human form, his skin was not nearly as tough as in his animal form and the forest tore up his flesh as he rushed through it.

Rio leapt upon the wide low-hanging branch leading to his home with the ease of long practice and, balancing carefully, made his way along the maze of branches until he gained the verandah. He called out to warn Rachael, hoping she wouldn’t shoot him as he shoved open the door with his hip. Fritz, nestled so close to him, turned his head to look up at him in silent fear. The small leopard’s sides were heaving, straining for air, too much blood matting his fur.

Rachael gasped, thrusting the gun beneath the pillow. “What happened? What can I do?” Rio’s face was a dangerous mask, fierce, warriorlike, his eyes alive with anger. He turned the full power of his unblinking stare on her, assessing her condition. Rachael met his piercing gaze steadily. “Really, Rio, let me help you.”

He immediately switched directions, bringing the injured animal to the bed. “Can you sit up all the way by yourself?”

Rachael didn’t bother with speech. She simply showed him, making certain to keep her expression serene when her heart was pounding and pain made her sick. She’d had enough practice hiding fear. The cat was badly injured and therefore far more dangerous than in its normal state. Her mouth went dry as he placed the animal in her lap and guided, first one hand, then the other to the puncture wounds. Rachael found herself with a fifty-pound leopard in her lap and her hands pressing into its neck covered in blood.

Rio lit the lamp and brought his surgical supplies to the bed, kneeling down close to the animal’s head. “Be still, Fritz,” he murmured, “I know it hurts, but we’ll get you fixed up.” He didn’t look at Rachael, but worked on the animal, his hands gentle, steady and very sure.

His head was bent, dark hair spilling around his face. There was sweat and blood on his skin, and he smelled wild and of wet fur. His face could have been carved from stone as he worked to save the cat. “These are deep puncture wounds, much like your leg. I sutured the lacerations on your leg but left the punctures to drain. I’ll have to do the same with Fritz. The best I can do is clean the wounds thoroughly, give him antibiotics and hope they don’t abscess. If they do, I’ll have to put in drains.”

As Rio worked on cleansing the puncture site, Fritz opened his mouth, exposing his long, wicked canines, and yowled horribly. Rachael took a deep breath and kept her gaze locked on Rio, on his face rather than on his hands, afraid if she looked at the cat’s teeth she would do a little screaming herself.

Franz answered Fritz, pacing anxiously back and forth in agitation. Without warning, he suddenly leapt onto the bed, nearly crushing Rachael’s legs. Pain rushed through her body, took her breath and forced a small, strangled cry from her throat. For a moment the room spun, tilted, went black. “Rachael!” Rio’s voice was sharp, compelling, calling her back. Rio’s arm swept Franz from the bed. “Stay the hell down,” he snarled, his voice rumbling with menace.

To Rachael’s surprise, her hands were still in Fritz’s fur. She applied more pressure as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting him to do that.”