Tiger Bound (15 page)

He got a first glimpse of it through the trees. Grizzled gray coat, hackles spiking over its neck, tusks long and gleaming...

And three times larger than any javelina ought to be.

It rattled another threat, rearing briefly and inexplicably to its hind legs before dropping back down and looking straight toward Maks.

Not deep-set little poor-sighted piggy eyes. Eerie, horrible
human
eyes.

Maks abandoned all pretense of stealth, breaking into a heavy, padding trot—tail stiff, head low, ears back and whiskers disapproving—weaving quickly through the intervening trees to take the measure of this thing more directly.

It stunk of Core. More than just javelina musk, but an overlay of the dead, dark energy routinely stolen and twisted by the Core for its workings, a sharp and stinging scent. Maks lifted his lips in a silent tiger snarl of disdain, circling to the side of the creature with a sideways cant of his head. Watching, always watching.

The javelina turned in place, keeping Maks before it—tossing its head in a mime of slashing tusk, once again offering its deep bark—but not without a gleam of intelligence, and just maybe, a hint of amusement.

There was, however, no fear.

Maks stopped his circling, lowering to a crouch; he coughed out another roar in challenge, his tail flicking behind him.

The javelina stuttered forward, bouncing off its front legs, jaws gaping and tusks fully exposed—and then it charged, those eerie human eyes laughing.

Maks crouched even lower, held ground—and sprang to the side as it passed, swiping out with one massive paw, claws sliding through the coarse hair and just barely snagging flesh. His claws dug into earth, scattering thick pine needles and musty dirt as he sprang after the creature, both front paws spread and reaching—

It whirled, meeting him with a maw of sharp and slashing tusks; he tumbled aside, rolling and coming back onto his feet to spring away—and quite suddenly
alive,
as immersed in the tiger as he could ever be and glorying in it, understanding how much he’d missed it over these past years—

He dove back into the fight, paws batting lightning fast, catching the giant peccary a solid blow to one haunch with the satisfaction that came of claws sinking into meat.

It wheeled with a squeal of fury, slashing past his face and diving at his flank. He twisted aside, avoiding that disemboweling blow with a wild leap, coiling back around—

The air split with a startlingly unnatural sound—part airhorn, part vuvuzela—and for that instant, Maks froze.

For that instant, so did the massive javelina. It took a step back, its head lifting and its mouth gaping...and its eyes again laughing. And then it quite calmly trotted away, grunting with each step—blood gleaming on its haunches and scenting air already redolent with musk.

Maks swung around in an instant bound forward—

Keep away go home something’s wrong...

And this time he listened.

He stood, poised, not a little bit stunned at the implications of the encounter—how deeply the Core had insinuated itself here, how far beyond the bounds of decency they’d gone.

A creature not nearly human...but no longer anything close to javelina. Trained, responsive...deadly. And though it had so far restricted itself to livestock, Maks had no doubt it could kill humans—that it would, if it wasn’t stopped.

But running headlong toward the Core handlers who had blown that horn wasn’t the way to stop it.

With a final silent snarl in the direction of the fleeing creature, Maks turned and picked his way across the sullen summer creek flow, his ears flat and the very white tip of his tail twitching.

Because these past few moments weren’t truly about finding a creature, or even about killing it once found. They were about the depth of what the Core was up to here—the lines being crossed, where no Core presence should be here at all.

And no one knew better than Maks just what that might entail.

* * *

Eduard spread the amulets on the table before him, lining them up before his primary power source amulet. The one fueled by the death of so many lives along his long journey, not to mention the trail of pines turned brown, the soil gone sterile...

Eduard well knew his work surpassed that of any previous Core technician.

It certainly surpassed that of any Sentinel. Sentinels, so limited, each with their own set of skills. Eduard could be any of them; he could be all of them.

But exacting science drew its price. The elements of will had to be combined...

Just so.

And if not, there were consequences. Such as the one now collapsed into a heap of muddled flesh before him.

“Take it away,” he said, in some disgust. A drone in a tight black T-shirt and black slacks moved forward to scrape what was left of the stray mutt into a disposal container.

Eduard needed Katie Maddox.

Sentinel though she might be, it was her touch that had left the injured shepherd mix so attuned to itself and its own nature that it had quite nearly made a successful transition to human. And that transition, complete, would be the first step to erasing any hint of Sentinel advantage.

Eduard’s lips pressed thin. Back at Gausto’s stronghold, Eduard had come much closer than this. He had created the woman Jet, pulling her out from her native wolf shape. She had been stable, had learned to change from one form to another; she had been trained and active in the Core’s employ, before Nick Carter had stolen her away.

But now Eduard was starting anew—knowing that the intricate foundation pieces must be redesigned to find a better balance. His subjects needed enough tenacity to survive the process, but enough bidability to be of use once successfully transformed. He now snatched dogs from the reservations, grabbing up the copious strays.

And now, he began to see that he would be unable to perfect the process without Katie Maddox to heal and prepare these often battered animals.

Once he had the process perfected, he could begin to reverse it. He could give the Core what it had always lacked—a means to meet the Sentinels at their own level.

If he succeeded, the Core would laud him for it. And he would quite abruptly no longer be working in a dark underground Quonset structure with far too many smelly animals crowded into far too little space.

A strong odor invaded his concentration—that of the little side project he’d put together to help himself define certain of the project’s foundational elements. If the smell hadn’t warned him, the dogs would have—half of them cowering, half of them bristling.

“The creature is not to be brought into this work space,” he said, not bothering to turn around.

“Jacques is hurt.”

Afonasii, with his faintly sentimental streak, had insisted on naming the thing. Eduard turned from his work to survey both the transformed javelina and the man. The giant peccary stared back with its all-too-knowing human eyes.

I made you too smart,
he thought at it.

Just as well he’d implanted it with the same kind of controlling partner amulet that had once held Jet in thrall, making it so easy to invoke pain and compliance. He slipped a hand into one of the many extra pockets of his lab coat, closing fingers around exactly what he wanted—the controller. Afonasii winced in sympathy, but wisely said nothing—and the peccary stood stock still as Eduard approached.

He realized with some surprise that the creature’s injury was in fact significant—for there was nothing in these woods to challenge a peccary of this size, never mind one imbued with the intelligence this one now possessed. “What—” he started, and then stopped himself, lifting his gaze to pin Afonasii with accusation. “Maks Altán,” he said. “The tiger. You allowed him into our territory?”

“No, I—” Afonasii shut his mouth—shut it hard, as he looked for some answer he dared to say. “I thought you might be able to heal Jacques.”

It was no answer at all, but it was enough to guess at the truth. “No? Then you must have again allowed this creature to push the boundaries of our territory.”

“He works best for us when allowed to fulfill his curious nature,” Afonasii said, his voice as toneless as possible. Defeated. He knew what was coming.

“Nonsense,” Eduard said, his voice crisp. His fingers caressed the controlling amulet. The creature’s handlers had controls of their own; they knew how to apply varying intensities of correction. “Correct him now, at an appropriate level, or I will.”

Afonasii’s mask broke. “But Mr. Forrakes, he won’t understand—”

“Don’t be absurd.” Eduard looked straight into the peccary’s too-human eyes. “He understands every word. Do it yourself, now, or leave it up to me—and you can most certainly be assured I won’t hesitate to use optimal levels.”

Afonasii reached into his pocket—his movement without commitment, his eyes on the preternaturally placid javelina.

“Afonasii,” Eduard said, his voice a silk that made the man jerk to attention. “You allowed this creature to encounter our most significant enemy.” No one else would pursue the Core like Maks Altán...and no one else was as suited to find them here. “As a result, I’ll have to step up my plans to acquire Miss Maddox—and at the same time, to eliminate this Sentinel who has in the past eluded us with annoying ease. Do you understand the significance of these facts? Of the depth of your failure here today?”

He thought the man did. Classic swarthy Core skin tones didn’t pale easily, but when they did...

Most satisfying.

Chapter 11

K
atie sat in the rocker on her front porch, the yellow cat in her lap, the afternoon of this very, very long day waning into early evening. A salad waited in the fridge, along with a slab of steak and a nice batch of raw spinach that she
would
convince Maks to eat.

When her phone trilled, she jerked out of her reverie, fumbling to grab it off the porch railing without knocking it over the edge.

“Catch you at a bad time?” Marie asked her knowingly, hearing that fumble come through in Katie’s somewhat breathless voice.

“Just lost in thought,” Katie said. “And clumsy.”

Marie snorted, not bothering to be genteel about it. “As if there ever was a day
you
were clumsy,” she said, as a spate of barking sounded in the background.

“That doesn’t sound like Rowdy.”

“It’s not,” Marie said. “I’m at the vet clinic. Mr. Rowdy is getting a precautionary X-ray.”

“He—what? Is he all right? He seemed fine yesterday.”

“You know Rowdy,” Marie said darkly. “I’ve been watching him like a hawk and never saw him get into anything, but he’s off today and he’s got a little temperature, so we’re just being cautious. Especially with those surgical stitches barely out. But that’s not why I called.”

Katie paused to absorb this. “Then...?”

She heard the phone against Marie’s cheek, the jangle of the bells on the clinic door, and then the day’s stiff breeze scraping across the phone pick-up. “Sorry,” Marie said. “I should have come out here before I made the call, but the waiting room was empty when I pulled the phone out.” She didn’t wait for Katie to respond before barging ahead. “Katie, I’m hearing things that have me worried. I don’t believe them, trust me, but the way people gossip...”

Katie blinked, her quiet, tired calm washed away by stirring anger. She forgot to stroke the yellow cat, and he bumped her hand with his head. “Akins, I’ll bet. Does that man have
nothing
else to do?”

“Problem is, he’s convincing,” Marie muttered, as if she didn’t want to say it at all. “If you don’t know that he’s got a grudge against you—and most of these people don’t—then he’s
damned
convincing. And...”

Katie heard the reluctant tone in her friend’s voice, gave her the push she needed. “And what?”

“Too many people saw that cat die in your hands the other day, that’s what. They don’t think any further—except to repeat the rest of Akins’s crap. It makes for a whole bunch of people who don’t know a thing and who suddenly think they know everything.”

Katie tucked her lower lip under a slightly pointed canine, biting back exasperation. “I don’t know what I can—”

“Get a lawyer,” Marie said, as blunt as ever. “Get a lawyer
now
. I am not kidding, Katie Rae.” Her stern voice made it clear she wasn’t anywhere near
kidding
—but then her tone changed. “Oh, hey, I think the vet tech is looking for me in there. Call you later, okay?”

“Let me know about Rowdy,” Katie said numbly, and heard only dead air. She looked at the phone a long moment, thinking black thoughts about Akins’s timing, and slowly set it aside—no longer peaceful here in her quiet early evening.

And no longer alone.

Her deer spotted the tiger before the rest of her truly saw him, there at the edge of the trees—move and pause, move and pause, assessing the area for hikers and bikers. And while the deer in her stiffened in instinctive response, the rest of her felt a welcoming warmth...a relief.

The shadowed trees shimmered with his change, blue light tumbling over itself and shot through with strobing bolts. Maks strode out from the trees as he’d left her, flannel shirt over jeans, tough feet bare. He walked with an easy strength that made her think of the tiger—grounded to earth, the power for speed when needed and the patience to rein it in when not.

Only when he got closer did she see the fatigue in his expression—and then, as he shifted angle, the slashing cut across his cheek.

But the smile he gave her wasn’t that of a man on his last legs. Katie felt the satisfaction of that, seeing how well her healing had taken. Thinking, too, that he could use another session.

By the time he reached the foot of the porch steps, she’d slipped the cat off her lap and gone to the top step, surprised by the swell of that little warm spot. “I’m glad you’re back,” she told him, giving way to it.

His eyes were dark in the shadow of the ridge; sunset came early to this land and dusk lasted approximately forever. “Has there been trouble?” he asked, swiping at his cheek. “Ian—?”