I leaped. Landed on boar’s back, claws gripping through coarse hair of stubby mane. Killing teeth biting down at base of skull. Found only hard fat and muscle. Boar stumbled with force of Beast, but did not fall. Screamed, pig scream. Started running. Raced through scrub, Beast on back. Branches hit Beast.
Beast bit down again and again, shaking hard, tearing flesh. Spurt of blood. Hot. Tasty. Boar bucked like horse, jumped high and twisted body. Beast held tight with claws in boar haunches and shoulders. Bit down again. Boar ran, fastfastfast through woods, screaming.
Boar ran under downed tree, resting across path. Log hit Beast in head. Ripped Beast off boar. I fell. Boar spun. Squeal changed to sound of anger. Boar attacked. Shaking head, Beast raced back along path and leaped high to stump of broken tree. Boar jumped. Teeth and tusks ripped at Beast’s paws and legs. Boar was too close. Beast was not able to leap or fall onto boar.
Boar stood up on hind legs and jumped high, tusks stabbing. Beast spun in midair, long stubby tail spinning. Killing teeth caught boar under chin. Deep in blood-rich flesh. Blood spurted over Beast. Hothothot. Good. Beast clamped down with jaws. Shook prey. Boar stopped squealing. Beast had boar’s air pipe in killing teeth. Crushed down. Crushing. Crushing. Boar could not breathe. Fell to knees. Hard. Pulled Beast off stump to ground. Beast stood over boar, could see tusks near face. Smell of old blood and old vegetable. Rotting human food from waste pile, grubs, and fungus. Pig food. Boar fell back, belly to sky. Beast followed, holding, killing teeth clamped tight. Claws hooked in boar belly. Time passed. Beast shook boar many times. Boar died.
Son of a . . . Jane breathed hard in back of mind, thoughts full of fear. You do know that if it ate you, there would be no way of coming back. I mean, it would have killed both of us.
Beast did not reply. Beast tore into boar stomach and ate. Good tasty bloody hot meat. Good pig-boar. Beast is good hunter.
*
Later, Beast cleaned boar blood off pelt and out of claws with rough tongue. Vampires are like boars. And like kits, I thought.
Yeah? How’s that? Jane thought, her fear gone, her thinking calm.
Bad vampires need to be killed. Have much blood. But vampires who are good are like kits. Need Jane.
Jane said nothing.
I stood and walked back to water, full belly heavy with meat. I drank at water’s edge and stared at water, holding night sky in surface. I thought about Jane. Thought about Leo. I see leash in den in mind. I see chain. Leash put onto Jane by Leo. Leash is not on Beast. I can break it.
Can you? Jane sounded happy.
I walked to dark thing that was Leo’s cage inside Jane. Extended claws. And swiped at chain of binding.
*
I found myself awake near the water, the sun’s rays just peeking over the horizon. I felt . . . incredible. Leo’s compulsion was nearly gone. I could still feel it, like a hard nut cocooned with spiderwebs in the back of my brain, but it was smaller, more compact, less diffuse. A couple more shifts, and it would be totally gone.
I reached up a hand to touch my neck, finding the gold nugget necklace I never took off. Unfortunately, the go-bag was gone. My clothes, my shoes, and my throwaway cell phone were no longer attached to me. The fight with the boar had ripped the go-bag off my neck. It was lost in the brush somewhere. I was a long way from Bitsa and my clothes, which meant I needed to find the gear.
I spent nearly an hour looking for the go-bag, and when I finally found it, it was covered in boar blood. I rinsed the flip-flops off in a nearby bayou, hoping that the morning was too cool to attract alligators, wiped off the throwaway cell, and tossed the rest of clothes into the water. Naked and cold, I walked back to the bike, dressed, and kick-started Bitsa, riding into the city. I stopped at a tiny French Quarter restaurant and had a huge breakfast starting with a stack of pancakes, six eggs over easy, and a rasher of bacon. I’d eaten here before and the waiters knew I was a big eater. I’d overheard them making bets on me. It might be bets about when I’d balloon up with the pounds, or bets about whether I’d order blueberry pancakes or harvest grain. Whatever they were betting on, I always got great service, my teacup was always full, and my syrup was always warm. I tossed three tens on the table when I was done and went home. I needed sleep.
Just before I dozed off, my other throwaway rang. I reached off the mattress and opened my cell. It was Reach. I pursed my lips and said, “How did you get this number?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
I sighed and said, “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question. What do you want?”
“The Kid is okay. He’s good and he’s capable, and in about two hours, he’s gonna knock on your door and tell you who your mole is.”
“You want to tell me now?”
“Nah. Why spoil the Kid’s fun?” The phone call ended.
“Well, crap.” So much for sleep.
*
But I did sleep, a hard, deep nap. Two hours after the phone call from Reach, I heard a knock at my door. “Coming.” I got up and shook out a pair of sweats that had been lying in the bottom of the closet. They didn’t smell too bad, so I pulled them on and padded to the door. Opened it. Stinky, who smelled of herbal shampoo, was on the other side, his knee doing that shaking thing he did when he had too much nervous energy. He was holding a cup of very strong tea. “Yeah?” I said. I’m not my best on little sleep.
He handed me the tea, which was a nice surprise. I could get used to this. “I know who the traitor is. You are looking for a traitor, right? That’s why the deep background on people you already work with? So I found him. I think. I’m pretty sure. I’ve checked it about a dozen times. So, yeah, I’m sure.”
The Kid was smart. Way too smart for my own good. I sipped the tea, which was so strong it was bitter, the sharp taste only slightly masked by a lot of sugar. I’d have to teach him how to brew tea. I crossed my arms, sipped again, and waited.