Wild Thing (35 page)

'That should suffice until spray paint can be applied.  Is there anything else, officer?'

For long seconds the officer stared at him.  Then turned back to his partner, whose expression Disten was unable to read, though she did shrug.

The man echoed that shrug, then turned back to Disten.  'No, sir.  You have a nice day.'

How did the formula go?  Ah, yes.  'Thank you.  You have a nice day also, officer.'

Turning, he sensed which direction to proceed.  A little further away, and now directly west.  Instead of entering the park, he set out toward the path above the coast.

-

Tired from the long walk, Harmon had failed to tell Leeth she should use the shower facilities first.  He hadn't realized his error until she had backed up three steps to jump the stone wall, plunging into the refurbished baths seconds later.  He winced again, remembering the ring of detritus she'd left floating in the water, and the angry face of the female lifeguard as she stormed up.

He had had to apologize, pay a fee, and Leeth was still ejected from the pool, much to her disgust.  They'd left quickly.

On the way back she had decided her clothes would dry faster, off, and somehow he had found himself wringing out her halter and skirt and carrying them while she soaked up the sun in just her bra and bikini bottom.  She'd been fascinated by the rugged, dark coastline, and the surging waves, and for a while he let her explore as they made their way around the low cliffs before the terrain forced them to climb back up.  With some relief, on his part: he would not want to be caught there when the tide came back in.  It had only been a short walk directly south, to re-enter the park proper once more.

There, she had discovered a group playing baseball.  Now dry, she had talked her way into the game; somehow even talked
him
into joining her.  He'd had to prod her into donning her now-dry clothes first, though.  That reverse striptease had certainly pleased the boys in the group.

He shut his eyes against the sun, smiling at the memory of her feral grin, her fiercely poised “attack” on the first ball pitched to her.  The young man, 'Skeet', had been clearly attracted to Leeth, much to the annoyance of his girlfriend.  Knowing she was a novice, since he had just had to explain the basics to her, Skeet had pitched a gentle ball to her.  The ball, Harmon recalled with delight, had almost taken the boy's head off.  If he hadn't ducked….

Leeth had been fascinated by it all, especially the teamwork.  At that point, however, he had sensed potential trouble.  He did
not
want his Huntress turning into just another team player.  Besides, he was close to exhausted.  So they had left, the sound of a developing argument fading behind them as they moved away.

Harmon let Leeth drag him right across the park before he decided she was far enough from the attraction of the group to allow him a short rest.  They reached a quiet hollow with another pond, and together moved down the bank.  Above, a willow draped its cool green shade across the ill-kept grass and algae-scummed water.

Completely exhausted, he sank down on a convenient, shaded park bench.

'I'm just going to catch my breath, Leeth.  We'll hunt up some food shortly, so don't go wandering off.'  He closed his eyes in blissful relaxation.
 

Chapter 39 

As Harmon and Leeth had receded into the distance, neither had been aware of the drama that played out soon after.  Maybe if Skeet's eyes hadn't followed the departing figures so carefully; or maybe if the expression on his face hadn't been so obvious; or maybe if it just hadn't changed so completely when he turned and saw that his girlfriend had seen it, then it all would have been different and Skeet might have seen his next day.

But the blazing argument that followed broke up the game in seconds, their friends carefully fading away to leave the two lovers to it.  Finally, Skeet's girlfriend stalked off.

He was still standing there, alone and scowling darkly across the park when a large stranger quietly approached.

The boy ripped his attention from his ex-girlfriend's departing back.  'What the shunt you want, spamboy?'  he blazed.

The man just stood there.  Not moving.  Then his expression altered, in a series of jerky changes that left his mouth stretched into a shape that didn't actually work as a smile.  Like a robot might do.  Skeet's hot anger disappeared like water sucked into parched ground.  The youth shuddered and took a step back.

The man's head moved back and forth, as if scenting the air.  Then the pale blue eyes focused back on Skeet, and the man opened his mouth to speak.

Then he paused, very deliberately swallowing and moistening his lips.  As if preparing long-disused equipment.

Skeet watched, hypnotized, his own head shaking slowly from side to side, refusing to acknowledge an unconscious premonition of danger.

'The girl was with you?' the man asked.

Skeet took another step back, but with shocking suddenness the man was beside him, gripping his upper arm painfully.  Face to face, Skeet's protests froze.  Intuition screamed that some kind of human puppet now held him trapped with just one hand.  His brain urged him to run, to get away, but his feet wouldn't move.  Skeet felt cold, like he'd just jumped from summer to a chill mid-winter's day.

'The girl has tainted you.  The taint can easily be cleansed.'

Skeet moaned.

The fear irritated Disten.  There was time: the girl had been in the area now for hours.  One hand clasped around the boy's neck, silencing him.

-

'Skeet!  Hey, Skeet!  Where are you?'

Two of his friends, worried, were quartering the area they'd last seen him.

'I don't get it.  Why wouldn't he answer his link?'

'It's taking calls?'

'Look, I'm not stupid.  I
can
tell the difference between a null link an’ one that's just not being answered.'

The two had now climbed the hill, scuffing through the occasional thin drift of leaves scattered between the tall trunks overlooking the ballpark.  Somewhere nearby, the ethereal strains of
The Zombie Waltz
could be heard.  The two exchanged a slow look.

'That's Skeet's link.'

'It's coming from those bushes over there.'

'Skeet!  Wake up, man, we've been looking for you!'

There was no answer.  Then at last the
Waltz
stopped.  Suddenly it seemed very quiet.  The boy who'd called looked down at his wristcomm, which had finally rejected the address as not answering.

'It feel cold to you here?'

The other ignored him, moving with reluctant steps toward the bushes, and his friend watched tensely.

'Oh, Mother.'

He stepped back a pace, then another, making futile shooing gestures behind him with one hand.  He spun around, and his friend took a step back at the expression on the shocked white face.  'Call the cops, Berry.  Skeet's dead!'

'Are- are you sure?  Maybe he's-'

'His head's on smekken backwards, man.'  His voice cracked.  'Just call the smekken cops!'
 

Chapter 40 

Sara watched Harmon settle himself down onto the bench seat in the sun and close his eyes.  'I'm just going to catch my breath, Leeth.  We'll hunt up some food shortly, so don't go wandering off.'

'No, Uncle, I won't wander off.'  She never just
wandered
.  She wondered why he wanted to rest.  He wasn't
really
tired, was he?  She cocked her head to one side as she watched him, thinking.

She was sure there was a reason he had decided they should spend a day “out”.  A test, maybe?

Just then, a jogger entered their clearing.  Tall, healthy, tanned.  His white teeth flashed in appreciation of her figure, and he whistled as he eyed her up and down.  But there was a strange look in his eyes she didn't like.  Like he was hungry.  Like
she
was prey for
him!

A weird prickle, a strange heat, flushed through her, ending in a fine trembling in her hands.  Her fingertips felt weird.

The man powered past and up the low rise leading out, glancing back at her one last time like he wanted to eat her.

One last time
.

She felt a surge of… heat?  Turning, eyes tracking him as the idea hit her, the burn flared stronger.  With a wolfish smile, Sara padded after him.

Hunting.

'Keepie.'  An urgent voice in his ear.  'Keepie!'

The figure before him blurred with his dream… something prowling through a jungle?  Something disturbing; familiar.  He blinked.

'
Keepie!
'

He sat up, disoriented, rubbing his eyes.

'I have a surprise for you!'

He squinted at her silhouette, the sun blinding.  But even so, what he saw looked wrong.  He suddenly realized she was naked.  And practically vibrating with suppressed excitement.

'
Hold out your hand and shut your eyes, and I will give you a big surprise
,' she chanted the children's rhyme hoarsely.

Something was terribly wrong.

He held out his hand.  Through the slits of his eyelids, a moment before she dropped the repellently wet
thing
into it he recognized the organ. 
Gods, it was
hot
!
  His own heart stopped.  No.  She couldn't have…?

Just then, he heard a terrified scream in the distance.  It went on and on.  Leeth only grinned as she turned partly toward it.  As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized another thing that was wrong.  Her front was
drenched
in blood.  The screaming went on.  His mind shut down.  Leeth spun back to him, bursting with the anticipation of his joy.  He looked down at the soft heavy thing he held in his hand.  Somehow, he knew the heart was human.

Shit.  Oh.  Shit.

'I Hunted him, Keepie!  I Followed, I Shadowed, I Pounced!  He was strong, but I was stronger.  I Killed him.  Oh Keepie, it was
wonderful!'
  She whooped with joy; did a sort of dance.

He stared at her in disbelief for long seconds.  He looked down at the heart, frozen.  She misinterpreted his gesture.

'Then, I realized you'd want me to bring you a trophy, like with my first Hunt.

'I thought of bringing you an easier bit to get off, but then I thought I should bring you back the proper thing, even if it
was
harder.'

His mind struggled to cope.  He had raised her, trained her,
striven
to mold her magically into the essence of the Huntress.  Yet why was it only now that he understood the natural consequence of this?  He had made her into a killer.

He looked at her with something not far from dread.

'I found a stick, and broke it to make a sharp edge.'

She noticed, at last, his paralyzed reaction.  She reached out and gently touched the heart.  'I didn't hurt it, even though it wasn't easy to get out.  I didn't know ribs would be so springy and hard to break.  I didn't damage it, though, see,' and she turned it over, reverently, wetly, in his hand.

His gorge rose, but he swallowed, forcing it down.  Found his voice, with difficulty.

'Did anyone see you, Leeth?'

'No,' she said scornfully.  'Of course not.'

The screaming had stopped,
a strangely dissociated part of his mind noted.  They'd be searching for the killer, soon.  He looked at her, looked at the grass around her, expecting to see a pool of blood.  There was none.  He looked closer at the ground.  In fact, there wasn't any blood at all.  He looked around, expecting to see a trail, and a body.  Belatedly, he noticed the blood was
smeared
all over her face and upper body.

She wiped herself down
, he thought numbly. 
Afterward, she took the time to wipe herself down.

She licked her fingers.  With a horrified start he realized she was licking the blood from them.  His stomach rose again.  Suddenly, he remembered the thing he held.  His hand shook as panic started to build.  How would they get rid of it?  For long seconds his thoughts spun in all directions.  He took a grip on himself.

'Leeth, do you know what will happen now?'

'We'll have a Feast?  I can collect firewood.'

Mentally, he recoiled, stomach churning, and he barely held his gorge.  But even as he did so, he noted the startling simplicity of her thought processes.  He shook himself.

'No, Leeth.  There won't be time.'

She looked puzzled.  Then disappointed.  Then hurt.

'There won't be time because the police will be here shortly.  They'll be looking for a killer.  When they find her they'll arrest her.  She'll be taken to jail-'

She started to protest, but he spoke over her.

'Taken to jail, before being
executed
.'  He wound down, panting as if from physical exertion.  All those years, all his work.  To be so foolishly wasted.  He began to get angry.

'But why, Keepie?  The police only arrest people who do bad things.'

At first the sheer lunacy of the remark stunned him into silence.  And then, he realized that from her point of view, all she had done was kill one of the gray people: one of the “sheep.”  That never, in all those years, had he let her be given the slightest clue that killing was wrong.  Of course he hadn't.  How could she embody the archetype if she thought that?  He pressed his hands against his temples. 
Think!

'It's the Law, Leeth.  There are rules that say you mustn't-

'I mean, that if you kill anyone at all, the police have to find you, arrest you, and in the end, kill
you
.'

'But…'  She was silent a moment.  'Even the
gray
people?  Does the Law say you're not allowed to even kill the
gray
people?'

'Even them.'

'But why?  Why protect the sheep?  What's the point?'

'Ahh.'  He wracked his brains for the correct answer for the Huntress.  'It's not meant to be
easy
, Leeth.  If it were easy, then hunting could be done by the soft, the slow, or the weak.  So there are guards and obstacles, and you have to pit yourself in challenge against the protectors: the police.'