Claws (10 page)

Goddess could his day get any worse? He laid the paper on the counter and rushed out the house. Waving to Percel, he flashed his teeth at the boar and lifted the latch to pull his truck door open. Armand was buckled in and waiting for him. Etienne slipped the key into the ignition and the monster tuck roared to life. With his hand wrapped around the knob of his stick shift, he checked his rearview mirrors making sure the area was clear before he threw the vehicle into reverse, spitting gravel and dirt up from the spinning tires. A hasty glance in his side view, he worked the stick and changed first gear, throwing them forward. In the cab the pebbles bouncing off the under carriage were loud.

“Mind telling me what the hurry is?” Armand gripped the door handle.

“Sint went after the hunters and Sasha went with her. Call Marree. If she doesn’t answer, call Loubel and tell him to call her. She might answer for him.”

“Shouldn’t we go back and get Percel? He’s the only once that can talk some sense into Sint.”

“No, let’s leave the old boar in the beautiful world of ignorance. You’ve never seen him riled. In full shift that ole man is a dangerous sight to behold and he will only be focused on his mate. Once his beast has control Sint is the only one that can calm him down and we don’t exactly know where she is. Someone could get…”

Armand held up the phone and tapped the speaker button. “I’m calling Loubel. Marree didn’t answer.

“’ello.”

“Loubel, we have a situation.” Etienne spoke out loudly to be heard above the truck engine.

“When don’t we have problems? What now?” Loubel scoffed.

“Sint went hunting for the poachers and Percel doesn’t know it.” Etienne took a turn. “I’m on my way to pick up a few of my men.”

“Hope you got a battalion ’cause shit will be epic when Percel finds out. Remember what happened last time he lost control?” A thread of fear laced Loubel’s voice. “He’s the reason we live in houseboats.”

“I know, believe me, I know. That’s why I need you to get a hold of Marree. She’s not answering us and if anyone knows where Sint might be it’s her.” Etienne swung the wheel to avoid hitting a dogwood rising up out of the muck as his truck skidded on the on the soft shoulder of the road.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Not good enough. Send out some of your guys if you have to but get a hold of her. I’ll be swinging by within the hour.” Etienne popped the truck into fourth gear and the tires momentarily spun as he hit asphalt. Burning rubber floated into the cab.

Armand ended the call. “I swear, gator, more and more I am rethinking my clan’s move.”

Etienne looked over at his friend. “Ya know, Armand, I can’t say I blame you.”

Sasha slouched low to the ground and crawled along the exposed roots of the big cypress trees that dotted the shore. She spotted the shotgun house a hundred or so feet away, the back of the shack gently rocking with the flow and ebb of the water. Last time she’d underestimated the hunter and his partner. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again and waited to see if anyone was home. Lifting her nose up, she sniffed. Another odor, similar to oil, crossed the scent of smoke. She followed the smell. Her belly scrubbed the ground as she moved toward the greasy aroma.

Circling the area she skirted the water and hid among the reeds. Her paws sunk into the black muck, making each step heavier than the last. The high grasses fluttered and a boar broke through, shifting as she stepped up beside Sasha.

“Damn, you’re fast.” Mais crouched down, her hands and knees sinking into the mud.

Sasha shifted. “Please tell me you’re alone.”

“Sort of. I brought two of Armand’s guards with me, Drayson and Deona. Now those chicks there are awesome in battle.”

“And you know this how?” Sasha shook her head.

“One of them pissed me off first day I was back into town. We got into a little fight, her sister jumped in, and we were all sporting black eyes after Daddy broke us up. Been good friends with them ever since.”

“Seriously, were all y’all dropped as babies? There is something wrong with you.”

Mais smiled and dipped her head. Red dreadlocks tumbled off her shoulder. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’m just a country girl.

“Whatever. I got a whiff of two different odors, but I don’t see any sign of the men. The smoke is recent but not fresh and I’m looking for the source of the oily smell.”

“Maybe they’re out hunting.” Mais stared at the building. “Betcha that other odor is from the pot over the pit. Them boys probably cook outside when it’s hot.”

“Only one way to find out.” Sasha shifted and broke through the bushes. She walked to the pan, tipping the lid with her muzzle. Confirming it was cooking oil, she continued around the side of the house.

The smell of death made her stomach roil. She chuffed and loped closer to the structure, listening closely for any sign that someone was home. The whitewash on the old house had seen better days and large strips of paint peeled away from the exterior walls. The place used huge logs for its foundation and rested half in the water as if someone had once tried to drag the building on shore or vice versa.

Next to the shack a dilapidated dock riddled with holes looked as if it would collapse in to the inlet at any moment. The wood groaned in the background like an old woman with bad arthritis. Old plastic paint buckets were flipped over and hung on the pylons the pier was connected to.

She eased around the side to the small porch. Tight wire lines connected the house to the ground. Below them the dark barren clay sported darker spots. Blood and lots of it, saturated the dirt. This had been a killing field for some time. Anger welled up from the pit of her gut. It wasn’t about making sure food was on the table or even stripping the furs to sell in order to keep a roof over your head. This was about greed. The poachers were murdering animals in mass numbers. Her beast demanded retribution for such disrespect.

Sasha leaped up on to the deck and glanced through the single grimy window. A twin bed was shoved in one corner while an old, frayed, yellow couch sat in the middle of the room facing the door. The little kitchenette was set up similar to Etienne’s at the fish camp but there was no bathroom that she could see. Mais was right. Those bastards were probably out setting snares. Well it was time the hunters realized they were the prey. She needed to leave a few traps for them. Sasha shifted and raised her arm. Mais strutted to her from one direction and two large wolverines exited through the saw grass on the opposite side of the building.

Walking toward Sasha, they shifted from one step into the next.

One of the wolverines spoke. “I don’t like this place. It’s very bad.” Her slight accent gave her voice a lyrical quality.

The other nodded in agreement.

Mais wrinkled her nose. “So much blood. Why hadn’t we caught on to this before? I say we burn this bitch down.”

Sasha quickly shook her head. “That would be a give a way that someone was here. They would just run and start killing somewhere else. I say we make them desperate, give them the feeling of being hunted. Let’s check the house and leave a few traps for them. Then we wait. The assholes have to come home sometime. We can play with them for a little while, then take ’em back to Sint.” She wrapped her fingers around the knob and pushed. The door swung in silently. They all peered around the barrier.

“This house needs a thorough cleaning,” Mais commented drily.

“Honestly, you’re worried about this place’s upkeep when the residents appear to have been butchering animals for months?” One of the wolverines leaned back and crossed her arms.

“It was just an observation,” Mais replied innocently.

“Let just see if the idiots left anything we could work with.” Sasha stepped between the two and over the threshold.

They followed behind her, each woman choosing a different section of the small structure.

Mais snatched open drawers and rifled through them before slamming them shut. She moved on to the only other set of cabinets. Sasha flipped the cushions on the couch, then dropped to her knees and ran her hand underneath the sofa edge. One wolverine sentry kept look out while the other yanked the mattress off the bed.

“I got wire and fishing line,” Mais shouted.

“I found an old knife stuck in the frame of the davenport.” Sasha responded.

“This nasty-ass bed ain’t got nothin’ but bugs and a match book.” The wolverine sentinel swept her hands down her arms.

Mais scrunched up her face and took a giant step back. Sasha checked the area around her to make sure no insects jumped off the furniture. She lifted her face and pursed her lips. They didn’t have much, but they could make do with what they had. Slowly a plan came into play. She didn’t want to kill the fuckers but maiming them was a great option. Sasha tilted her head and looked past Mais at the gas tank connected to the camp stove. They could set up a trip wire, somehow set the matches to light and leave the gas line open for a slow leak. Yeah this could work.

Sasha glanced at the guard at the door. “Any sign?”

“Not yet.” The Wolverine turned to continue staring out the screen.

“All right, ladies, I have an idea.” Sasha motioned for the other two women to come closer.

Where the hell were all the animals? Court slapped a branch away from his face. It snapped back, grazing his cheek as he walked past. He patted his pocket, finding the crinkle of plastic reassuring. Instead of checking a few trails, he should have gone back to camp like he’d intended. But the idea that his panther could be just beyond the trees was too enticing to pass up. Now it was late afternoon and he still had to figure out his cover story for Tim’s death. If they dragged the lake, after he reported the incident, and the body wasn’t exactly as he described, the police would arrest him. He’d watched enough of those cop shows to know he’d have to make the evidence match the story.

The boat wouldn’t work as an alibi either. It wasn’t gator season. If he shot Tim and said they were hunting gators, shit, that’d be just as bad. Maybe not. He weighed the options in his mind—murder verses poaching. He reached in his pocket to pull the cigarette pack free and the soft box crumpled in his hand. Grunting, he tossed the pack behind him and trudged on. Fine fucking time to run out of cigs. He stopped. Self-defense that was all he had to do, claim Tim attacked him after they had a little squabble. Everyone knew Cajuns have hot tempers. He’d just play up the stereotype. One shot to the head or the heart. Tim showed him the ins and outs of the hunting business. It was the least he could do to make the man’s death quick and painless. Yeah, he’d shoot him at camp instead. If he wasn’t mistaken there was a rusty old ax by the dock. He could plant that in Tim’s hand.

Court started walking, quickening his step. Damn, perhaps he should wait until they caught the panther. Hunting that monster alone would be a real bitch. He sucked in a deep breath. With all the idea’s tumbling through in his brain, he was getting ahead of himself. First, he would solidify a plan, and then he would take care of gathering the necessary tools. From there it would just be a case of executing his scheme.

He needed to hurry back to the fish camp. If he went in search of everything, Tim would wonder what the hell he was doing. The Judge bumped his hip reassuring him. He caressed the cool metal.

“Soon, baby,” he cooed.

Perhaps he’d use his handgun on Tim, too. His friend deserved to be shot with the best weapon possible. He adjusted his growing erection. The idea of the firing off two shots excited him. There was no time to give into his baser emotions. He could do that as a reward when he completed his little projects.

He broke through the foliage into the open area around the camp and immediately spotted Tim sitting on an old bucket and leaning over a stump he turned into a makeshift table. Brown and white fur lay at his feet. Disappointment whipped through him. He’d hurried for nothing. Court rubbed his jaw. No, he could still make his plans work.

Tim had skinned one animal and it sat it on the side of the stump. He’d leaned the barrel of the rifle on the wood close at hand. An easy smile bloomed across his face when he lifted his head. “Hey, I thought something might have got a hold of you. I was ’bout to come looking for ya after I got supper on.” He held up the raw meat. “Squirrel was the only thing I managed to find. It’s like the animals suddenly went into hiding.”

Court nodded. “Yeah I noticed. I went down a few trails to see if the big cat had circled back.”

“It’s too quiet, Court. Last time it was silent like this a hurricane was bearing down on us. The animals have hunkered down and I don’t know why.”

“It’s gotta be the panther. The smaller critters know a bigger, better, predator is out there.” Court pulled the rifle off him and held it at his side.

“I need a pan to fry up this squirrel.” Tim rose.

“I’ll get it. Why don’t you get the pit started? It’s too hot to cook inside.” Court moved toward the shack.

“Gotcha.” Tim moved toward the back of the house.

Court climbed the steps and ambled to the front door.

Tim stuck his head around the side. “Hey!”

“Yeah” Court stopped his hand on the doorknob.

“Grab us a few beers out of the cooler while you’re in there. We are so close to catching and skinning us a panther I think we should celebrate.” Tim dipped his head and disappeared around the corner.

Might as well let his friend have a good time. Tim was living on borrowed time and he didn’t even know it. Court sighed. “Oh yeah! Tim?”

“Gimme a minute, Court.”

Court shook his head. “Never mind.” It was sad what he had to do. Tim was his best friend. Fifteen grand was a nice tidy sum for the big cat and sharing the profits just didn’t feel right anymore. He caught most of the animals anyway and friends were easy to come by, money not so much. Court tapped back the bleakness that suddenly seemed to overwhelm him. He’d give Tim’s mama three months’ worth of rent money. That should assuage his guilt. He pressed his lips together and turned the knob. The door swung open. He heard the hiss first before stepping over the threshold and catching his foot on something. Looking down he couldn’t see what had snared him. He heard the sizzle of several matches lighting at once and looked around the small room.