Blind Tiger
Page 73
“That’s up to her to—”
A dark blur shot across my peripheral vision. Something seized the left leg of my pants, over my calf, and dragged me backward. Hard.
I stumbled, righted myself, and whirled around. “Robyn! What the hell?”
She whined, deep in her throat. Obviously, she was trying to tell me something, but without words, all I could pick up clearly was anxiety. And urgency.
“You can’t be seen. What’s—?” Then I heard the voices.
“—make you forget about that lying bitch. You won’t even remember her name.”
“Ivy who?” The second voice laughed, and I turned, stunned, as my brother rounded a curve in the manicured path, sandwiched by two other kids in Millsaps shirts and light jackets.
“Justus?” Disbelief echoed in my voice. We’d discovered two corpses in our forty-eight-hour search for my brother, and there he was, laughing with his friends, carrying an open bottle of beer, as if he had nothing in the world to worry about.
“Titus?” He stopped, and his friends squinted in my direction. The humans probably couldn’t see well enough in the dark to know that I was too old to go to a college party, and I could tell from the lack of panic that they couldn’t see Robyn at all. Black fur blends well into the shadows.
Justus’s gaze slid toward her and he frowned. “What’s…going on?” His focus narrowed on Robyn, then flicked up to me, and I could see him trying to mentally connect dots that—in his mind—had nothing in common. His brother. And a big black cat.
He had no idea I wasn’t human. Whether Robyn was a shifter or an escaped zoo cat, he didn’t understand why she seemed willing to stand next to me, instead of fleeing into the foliage. Or attacking.
“You guys go on in,” I said to his friends. “Justus will be there in a minute.”
“Jus?” The one on the right squinted, trying to focus on me in the near-dark. “Who the hell is that?”
“It’s okay.” Though he sounded unsure of that. “It’s my brother. Go on. I’ll be right there.”
His friends hesitated for a second, then turned right and headed into the herpetarium. Music and beams of brightly colored light fell onto the sidewalk, then died the moment the door closed behind them, leaving nothing but the soft thump of bass to remind us that the party had started. That the path we stood on would soon be overrun with more attendees.
“Titus, what’s going on? And who the hell is that?” Justus stared at Robyn. “Is that…? Is she…?” He had no way to finish the question he didn’t even really understand. He’d probably never seen a female shifter. He’d probably never seen another shifter at all, except the one who’d infected him, and surely he hadn’t known that’s what was happening to him, at the time.
I jogged down the path toward him. “I’ve been looking for you for two days,” I said as I wrapped one arm around his shoulders, already guiding him toward the exterior fence and away from Drew. “Where—”
Robyn pushed her way between us. She growled, and I glanced down, assuming she was demanding an ill-timed introduction. But she only sniffed Justus’s thigh. Dramatically. Insistently. And finally, I understood.
I pulled him into a hug and inhaled his scent right at his neck. Where it was strongest.
He smelled like himself. Like he always had. And he smelled like me, more now than ever. And he smelled like…
Rage burned through me, unburdened by logic. I didn’t understand what my nose was telling me, but I didn’t doubt it.
“Drew!” I spun toward him, but he was gone. My best friend of nearly a decade. My college roommate. My trusted employee, even before we’d been infected.
The traitorous bastard who’d attacked my brother.
“What? Drew’s here?” Justus asked, and with a sudden stunned comprehension, I realized he didn’t know who’d infected him because as a human—even a newly infected stray—his sense of smell hadn’t been strong enough to identify the cat who’d scratched him. He hadn’t even known that was possible. And unlike Corey Morris, he hadn’t yet connected his own scent to that of his infector.
Which could only mean that he hadn’t smelled Drew since he’d shifted.
Focus, Titus. One thing at a time.
“Justus, this is Robyn. My…girlfriend.” I laid one hand on her head, fighting for patience when every muscle in my body demanded that I find Drew and make him pay. “She’s going to take you into the bushes, and you’re both going to stay there until I get back,” I said, talking over him when he tried to object. Or maybe ask a question. I turned to Robyn. “Can you still hear Drew?”
She went still, except for her ears, rotating on top of her head. Finding and categorizing sounds. Then she nodded, and her eyes narrowed. She pointed her muzzle toward the west.
“Thanks,” I whispered. Then I took off running.
TWENTY-TWO
Robyn
Justus stared after his older brother in astonishment and utter confusion as Titus’s footsteps pounded off to the west. Around a curve in the trail, several girls screamed, then burst into laughter, and I realized Titus had startled them as he raced by. They wouldn’t recover so quickly from finding me on the path.
I seized Justus’s jeans cuff between my teeth and tried to tug him toward the bushes, but he jumped back, startled, and the material ripped. His beer bottle exploded on the pavement. He blinked at me in the dark, uncomprehending, and I realized how little he’d understood of what had happened in the past minute and a half. So instead of trying to pull him again, I whined softly and turned toward the foliage, asking as clearly and politely as I could for him to follow me.
He stared at me for a second, and I recognized comprehension the instant it registered in his eyes. He’d finally connected me—a cat—with his brother’s designation of me as his girlfriend. A descriptor that felt monumental, yet somehow insufficient.
And finally, as a group of six girls my age rounded the westward curve in the path, Justus stepped into the bushes with me and dropped into a squat.
“Robyn?” he whispered.
I nodded, and his eyes widened as if confirmation that I was a shifter—that I could understand and respond to him—was almost more miraculous than his mere suspicion that that was the case.
A dark blur shot across my peripheral vision. Something seized the left leg of my pants, over my calf, and dragged me backward. Hard.
I stumbled, righted myself, and whirled around. “Robyn! What the hell?”
She whined, deep in her throat. Obviously, she was trying to tell me something, but without words, all I could pick up clearly was anxiety. And urgency.
“You can’t be seen. What’s—?” Then I heard the voices.
“—make you forget about that lying bitch. You won’t even remember her name.”
“Ivy who?” The second voice laughed, and I turned, stunned, as my brother rounded a curve in the manicured path, sandwiched by two other kids in Millsaps shirts and light jackets.
“Justus?” Disbelief echoed in my voice. We’d discovered two corpses in our forty-eight-hour search for my brother, and there he was, laughing with his friends, carrying an open bottle of beer, as if he had nothing in the world to worry about.
“Titus?” He stopped, and his friends squinted in my direction. The humans probably couldn’t see well enough in the dark to know that I was too old to go to a college party, and I could tell from the lack of panic that they couldn’t see Robyn at all. Black fur blends well into the shadows.
Justus’s gaze slid toward her and he frowned. “What’s…going on?” His focus narrowed on Robyn, then flicked up to me, and I could see him trying to mentally connect dots that—in his mind—had nothing in common. His brother. And a big black cat.
He had no idea I wasn’t human. Whether Robyn was a shifter or an escaped zoo cat, he didn’t understand why she seemed willing to stand next to me, instead of fleeing into the foliage. Or attacking.
“You guys go on in,” I said to his friends. “Justus will be there in a minute.”
“Jus?” The one on the right squinted, trying to focus on me in the near-dark. “Who the hell is that?”
“It’s okay.” Though he sounded unsure of that. “It’s my brother. Go on. I’ll be right there.”
His friends hesitated for a second, then turned right and headed into the herpetarium. Music and beams of brightly colored light fell onto the sidewalk, then died the moment the door closed behind them, leaving nothing but the soft thump of bass to remind us that the party had started. That the path we stood on would soon be overrun with more attendees.
“Titus, what’s going on? And who the hell is that?” Justus stared at Robyn. “Is that…? Is she…?” He had no way to finish the question he didn’t even really understand. He’d probably never seen a female shifter. He’d probably never seen another shifter at all, except the one who’d infected him, and surely he hadn’t known that’s what was happening to him, at the time.
I jogged down the path toward him. “I’ve been looking for you for two days,” I said as I wrapped one arm around his shoulders, already guiding him toward the exterior fence and away from Drew. “Where—”
Robyn pushed her way between us. She growled, and I glanced down, assuming she was demanding an ill-timed introduction. But she only sniffed Justus’s thigh. Dramatically. Insistently. And finally, I understood.
I pulled him into a hug and inhaled his scent right at his neck. Where it was strongest.
He smelled like himself. Like he always had. And he smelled like me, more now than ever. And he smelled like…
Rage burned through me, unburdened by logic. I didn’t understand what my nose was telling me, but I didn’t doubt it.
“Drew!” I spun toward him, but he was gone. My best friend of nearly a decade. My college roommate. My trusted employee, even before we’d been infected.
The traitorous bastard who’d attacked my brother.
“What? Drew’s here?” Justus asked, and with a sudden stunned comprehension, I realized he didn’t know who’d infected him because as a human—even a newly infected stray—his sense of smell hadn’t been strong enough to identify the cat who’d scratched him. He hadn’t even known that was possible. And unlike Corey Morris, he hadn’t yet connected his own scent to that of his infector.
Which could only mean that he hadn’t smelled Drew since he’d shifted.
Focus, Titus. One thing at a time.
“Justus, this is Robyn. My…girlfriend.” I laid one hand on her head, fighting for patience when every muscle in my body demanded that I find Drew and make him pay. “She’s going to take you into the bushes, and you’re both going to stay there until I get back,” I said, talking over him when he tried to object. Or maybe ask a question. I turned to Robyn. “Can you still hear Drew?”
She went still, except for her ears, rotating on top of her head. Finding and categorizing sounds. Then she nodded, and her eyes narrowed. She pointed her muzzle toward the west.
“Thanks,” I whispered. Then I took off running.
TWENTY-TWO
Robyn
Justus stared after his older brother in astonishment and utter confusion as Titus’s footsteps pounded off to the west. Around a curve in the trail, several girls screamed, then burst into laughter, and I realized Titus had startled them as he raced by. They wouldn’t recover so quickly from finding me on the path.
I seized Justus’s jeans cuff between my teeth and tried to tug him toward the bushes, but he jumped back, startled, and the material ripped. His beer bottle exploded on the pavement. He blinked at me in the dark, uncomprehending, and I realized how little he’d understood of what had happened in the past minute and a half. So instead of trying to pull him again, I whined softly and turned toward the foliage, asking as clearly and politely as I could for him to follow me.
He stared at me for a second, and I recognized comprehension the instant it registered in his eyes. He’d finally connected me—a cat—with his brother’s designation of me as his girlfriend. A descriptor that felt monumental, yet somehow insufficient.
And finally, as a group of six girls my age rounded the westward curve in the path, Justus stepped into the bushes with me and dropped into a squat.
“Robyn?” he whispered.
I nodded, and his eyes widened as if confirmation that I was a shifter—that I could understand and respond to him—was almost more miraculous than his mere suspicion that that was the case.
