Christine Feehan - Wild Rain

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.

THERE was music playing. Rio hadn't heard anything other than tribal music in so long he'd forgotten how beautiful it could be. There was the powerful scent of flowers, orchid blossoms bursting out all over. All over the trees, in the hair of the women. And there were people. There seemed to be people standing everywhere he looked. He'd never been around so many people, not in years.

"You're a bit pale there, brother." Elijah stole up behind him in his silent way, still favoring his right side. It had taken Tama and Kim's father to save his life. He was still recovering from the severe wounds inflicted by Armando. "You aren't going to faint or anything, are you?"

Rio glared at him. "Who the hell are all these people? Where'd they come from? Don't they have homes or something?"

"Rachael said you were going to be a big baby over this," Elijah said. He pulled a twig from a tree and put the end in his mouth, his strong teeth chewing on the green stem.

"Your seven stab wounds aren't going to keep me from punching you."

"Twelve," Elijah corrected. "It's true five weren't that deep, but still…"

Rio scowled at him. "A little bit of overkill, don't you think? Letting that son of a bitch stab you twelve times? You could have gotten the same amount of sympathy with just three or four times."

Elijah nodded, straight-faced. "True, but the story isn't as good in the retelling."

"Well, the number's probably going to grow with the retelling anyway so you could have saved yourself a bit of trouble and a hell of a lot of stitches," Rio pointed out.

"I didn't think of that."

"How are your teeth?"

"Still in my head, but they hurt like hell. Don't talk about my teeth." Elijah groaned, "I think they're still loose."

"You wouldn't be such a pretty boy without all those teeth," Rio observed. "It might not be such a loss." He slapped his palm against his leg. "Where the hell is she? I should have had Conner or Joshua stand guard and keep her from running away. Are you sure she's here?" His chest was tight and his lungs screamed for air. He ran his finger around his collar to loosen it.

"She's here. She looks beautiful."

The burning in his lungs lessened, and Rio could breathe again. "Don't look at me like that. I want to do this, it's just that all these people are a little too close."

Elijah grinned at him. "I hate to admit it, but I feel the same way and I'm always surrounded by people, by my crew." He waved his hand toward the surrounding trees, wincing as his body protested. "It's different here. I feel different here."

"This forest has a way of doing that, Elijah, although maybe with Armando finally dead, you're beginning to feel the relief."

"It hasn't begun to sink in yet. At this point I'm telling myself every few minutes I don't have to look over my shoulder all the time. It doesn't seem real. I don't know if it ever will. I've watched every word I've ever said and made certain I was absolutely alone so he couldn't do to anyone else what he did to Rachael. Frankly, I don't know how to act."

Rio touched the man's shoulder briefly. Elijah wasn't a man to encourage physical contact or sympathy or compassion. "It will come with time."

"I'm sure you're right."