I helmeted up and kicked on my bike, leaving vamp HQ, giving a two-fingered salute to the guards on the way out the gate. I wound slowly through the streets of the French Quarter, chill spring air on my skin. I lifted my head, my eyes half-closed, smelling water and petroleum products and fish and humans. Familiar now. Familiar as the mountains of home had been once upon a time, not so long ago. The last of the snow would be melting, filling creeks and streams, making them gurgle and chortle—
The weight slammed me to the ground. I hit, my knee, hip, shoulder taking the crunch. My shirt ripping. Legs tangled, boots and feet twisting. Wrenching. I bounced. Helmet banging into the curb. I saw white flickers on black. Stars, I thought. But only for a moment. They cleared for me to see the bike spin off and ram into an iron light pole, sparks flashing.
And the thing landed on me. Long and multicolored, like rainbows on white silk. No form, no shape. Just an impression of . . . something familiar. It wrapped around me and squeezed.
Anaconda, some reasoning part of me thought. Contracting, squeezing, to kill. Snake! my Beast shouted. Anaconda! Something I had been sensing but not understanding for two days.
Shift, Beast commanded. But I couldn’t shift. I was trapped in the light. I—
A horn blew. Tires stuttered on the pavement as an antilock braking system took over. “Jane!” a voice shouted.
But I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I was suffocating.
And the change took me, carrying me into the gray place, into the calm of the shift and the painpainpain. But something was wrong. . . .
? ? ?
I/we were not alone in the gray place. Other was there as well. Gray-blue-green and sparking with energy like stars and moonlight. Smelling of lightning when it hit the earth and burned through sand, making glass in its own image. I/we swiped at the snake/energy of the other. Rainbow hues and ice shot through the gray energy of me/us, seeing with Jane-eyes and Beast-eyes together. Hot and frozen, sharp and ripping, tearing through us in the place that was not a real place, ripping, cutting, just as the pain of losing a mate did to us in the vampire’s den. Swiped back, using claws in the gray place, using gray-energy-claws as weapons against other. Felt/heard when other screamed with pain.
Other’s teeth caught throat. Biting down. Coils of energy took us and wrapped us and tightened.
Could die here.
Felt/smelled/knew . . . Bruiser stepped into the gray storm that was us, here, in this place, his energies black and silver and the red of the forge. He waded into battle. Steel blade cut down into the storm of energies; sparks flew as steel met electricity. Bruiser’s blade exploded, metal shards flying. Was injured. But other was injured more.
Beast clawed free from coils of energy. Through gray place. Pulled self into world, pain like claws hooked deep into flesh. Bleeding. Leaped out of Jane clothes, pushed out of boots and leather and steel claws and guns. Pain. Deep in bones. Hurt. Jane was gone. Asleep in darkness.
Turned fast, long thick tail whipping for balance. Knew Bruiser was fighting other. He was pulled into gray place of change. Was injured. Smelled his blood. Smelled steel and lightning. Bruiser was screaming, like shout for war.
Raced in, claws out, swiping into gray place. Into wild energy.
Pain like burning in fire! Leaped back. Away. Shaking paw. Burned!
Jane? Jane! Screamed, big-cat scream. War scream.
Jane was still asleep in soul home. Did not wake. Could not help. And Beast could not help Bruiser.
Backed slowly from gray place, from battle in here and not here, pawpawpaw. Did not know what to do. Snarled in anger and prey-fear. Saw Bruiser fall. Spun, paws on road. Raced away. Into dawn. Smelling Bruiser. Smelling his blood. Smelling a thing that was known but not known, a thing made of light and dark and of energy like the gray place of the change. A thing like Rick’s Soul.
? ? ?
Noon. Sun high overhead, or as high as time of moons that Jane called spring allowed. Heat and warmth and sun held us still, lazing on branch over black water. Below, water swirled with good-to-eat fish. Or alligator, good to eat, not good to fight in water.
On bank of swamp, kill lay, buzzing with flies. Buzzards flapped in trees, smart birds to wait until Beast was finished with prey. Smell of pig blood and entrails was strong in nostrils. Good smells. Good hunt. Good prey.
Beast?
Jane.
I . . . What happened? Something landed on us. Jane stirred in remembrance. Bruiser. Is he—
Thing attacked us. We are safe. Bruiser is not safe. Rick is gone. Mate is gone.
Jane did not answer, silent like black water, slow and cold with winter rains. After long time, Jane thought, Was that Rick’s Soul that attacked us?
No. Have thought like Jane thinks. Hard to do. Thing was same . . . species, Jane calls type of animal. But was not Soul.
Jane sighed in mind. Soul. Not Rick’s Soul.
No. Rick is gone.
Yeah. He is.
Big-cats do not mate forever.
I know. I know. I’m done grieving. I have bigger problems than a cheating ex-boyfriend and a catwoman in heat.
Or we can find mate-Ricky-Bo and take him from lie-false-bad mate. Kill lie-false-bad mate.
No. Jane looked away, into the dark of me. No. Tell me about Bruiser.
I/we smelled his blood on streets when Beast became alpha.