Vampire Instinct

Page 40

Elisa smiled, despite herself. Then, because it was just how she was, she leaned over and surprised Chumani with a hug. “Thank you. I like our drives.”
The Indian woman gave her a pat, tugged her hair like an exasperated older sister. “Little woodchuck. All cute, round and irresistible. Go on; do your thing. I’ll be over here taking a nap in the car, if you need me.”
20
MAL had said only one vampire could be let in the communal area at a time, with the exception of the girls, who actually did better as a pair. If any wouldn’t go back in to his or her cell when Elisa asked, Chumani would radio Mal to come and handle it. If Mal had to be called, the fledgling was forbidden time in the communal or open-preserve areas for the next three days, an effective punishment Elisa hated but realized worked, because even Leonidas would now return to his cell when she told him it was time.
The desire to reach out to Jeremiah or one of the girls when they looked particularly lonely or distressed, to give them the gift of touch, was an aching need. But she lectured herself fiercely, and explained it to them as well, in kinder terms. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to touch them. If a rule was broken, she’d also be banned from the area for three days, no exceptions or arguments.
Though tonight had gone well, she’d had to explain it all over again, which gave her a tight ache in her chest when she finally got in the Jeep at midnight for Chumani to take her back to the house. On the way, the Indian woman was able to give her some comfort by explaining that Elisa wasn’t being singled out.
“Mal’s just as uncompromising in his staff training,” she said. “He might give you a real dressing down if an honest mistake is made with the cats, but if one of us is careless or, even worse, deliberately ignores the rules, he’ll fire that staff member on the spot and ship him off the island right away, in a leaky boat if needed.”
Apparently they’d only had a couple cases of that, because Mal chose his people carefully. But it explained Tokala’s reaction to the lion incident.
What also helped her feel better about his rules were the meetings Mal had with her each night when she returned to the station. He’d bring her into his study and quiz her on the observations she’d had. His questions always drew out far more information than she thought she’d seen. Sometimes after those interrogations, he’d take her for a drive through the open preserve. Safely in the Jeep, she could witness him with the cats, and that helped her learn as well. It was a true science, studying the behavior of others, whether vampire, human or cat.
“You’ve been an exceptional servant all your life,” he’d noted one night. “Which means you’ve cultivated the common sense and intuition to pick up many things that others miss. All you need are the cues to hone that, to know what it means, what you’re looking at. It’s usually far more than what you see on the surface.”
She’d been inordinately flattered by the praise, but her admiration for him had increased as well. From Chumani she’d learned that in the past twenty years, he’d studied a variety of behavioral sciences, as well as traveled the world to investigate and see the work of others. Such direct interaction with the human world, taking the risk of questions or exposure, was unusual for a vampire, but as Chumani had noted, he wasn’t the usual kind of vampire.
She was beginning to see her fledglings through Mal’s trained eyes, understanding the interplay of dominance and submission between them. But with that understanding came the unsettling realization of just how dysfunctional they were, their behaviors often similar to the most severely abused and unsocialized cats brought into the sanctuary.
Camaraderie helped deal with such worries, and Mal seemed to know that as well. Directly after their meetings, before she did chores or Mal took her to the open preserve, the entire staff would sit down to the “dinner” meal, around two in the morning. If it was nice, they’d have it under the stars, gathering around the large picnic table and assorted benches scattered in the grassy yard. There was usually a good breeze, filtering into their valley from the ocean. Though Mal usually sat by himself on a bench propped against a nearby tree, he was close enough he could prop his booted foot on the edge of Chumani’s chair, because she sat at the end closest to him.
He was more relaxed with the hands at that moment than any other, discussing the day’s work. Which cats were improving in their rehabilitation, the amusing antics of the permanent residents in the habitats. Foolish mistakes each of the staff had made and survived. As Chumani had stated, each had received the sharp edge of Mal’s temper for it, but now the retelling of such war stories was a way to reinforce the lessons and accept the dangers of their work with good humor. Elisa found it comforting to hear that all of them had apparently made such missteps at one time or another.
Even Mal.
Tonight it was hard to stay melancholy, because everyone was in particularly good spirits. Lola had been shepherded through the fault line to the African preserve. She was now ready to hunt and live free, no longer part of the island system. A toast was made to her long life with a special iced tea recipe Kohana made to celebrate the mixed blessing of such events.
As part of the festivities, each hand was now trying to best the others in tales of humiliation. The latest story had been about Bidzil, who’d made the mistake of thinking a tiger they’d lured into a transport cage with meat could be nudged in the rear to get him to move along.
“He thought he was a cattle drover,” Tokala chuckled.
“Well, his name means strong, not smart.” Chumani ducked the chunk of bread Bidzil shot at her.
“I forgot, what does your name mean? Woman-with-Too-Big-a-Mouth?”
“Didn’t think there could be one of those.” Tokala gave a mock leer and Chumani retaliated with a healthy smack along his ear.
“I think I’d stay quiet before we name you Idiot-Who-Grabs-a-Lion-by-the-Tail.”
“What happened to Bidzil?” Elisa asked. It was the first time since the lion incident that Tokala had seemed more himself, less subdued, and she didn’t want him to be knocked back on his heels.
“Tiger turned, of course, and went after him with all claws extended. Fortunately Mal anticipated his mistake about a second before it happened and was already in motion. Knocked the tiger off center and threw Bidzil out of the way; then we were able to get Alexei back into his enclosure until he calmed down a bit and we could try again.”
“Bidzil got by with a little bit of a chest swipe,” Mal commented. “Though for a few minutes he lost all his red pigment. We called him Snowman for about three days.”
Mal rose enough to give the man’s shoulder a shove, an unexpectedly affectionate gesture, though he settled back on his bench directly afterward. Elisa thought he set himself apart for a couple reasons. Since he took his meal now as well, perhaps he knew the fresh blood smell could interfere with the cooked food humans preferred. But she suspected the main reason was the difficulty of being close to that many human bodies, pulsing with life and blood. She’d noted that about Danny as well. When she met with the hands, there was always a circumspect distance between her and them. Though Elisa understood part of it was respect to the owner of the station, she understood the other part.
Like most of the big cats, vampires were solitary predators. While they didn’t have to take human life except for one annual kill, humans were still prey in one form or another. It might be difficult to simply “hang out” with them, rubbing elbows and knees at a table like this. People reaching past them for the rolls, the noise of laughter and banter filling the ear and closing in on a creature that did better with open space, the ability to move quickly if needed.
However, Mal seemed to do better than most. Even now, through the laughter, Kohana was shaking his head. He pointed a finger at his vampire employer. “Don’t cast any stones, Mal. At least Bidzil knows nuts aren’t the only things that fall out of trees.”
“Oh, no.” Mal shook his head. “You’re not going to embarrass me with that one, old man.”
“I will, then.” Chumani jumped in. “Mal’s less mean to us girls.”
“You’re a girl? Since when? Turn her over, Chayton. I don’t believe it.”
She made a suitable retort to that, one that would have done any male station hand proud. She turned to Elisa then, putting another biscuit on both their plates.
“We had a new pride of lions on the open preserve. Three of them, a male and two females we’d been rehabilitating. They came from one of those hideous traveling sideshow zoos. Used to being poked at by sticks, stuff thrown at them through the bars, no supervision on the patrons at all beyond a cord to keep them out of range of the claws. Lights on day and night, because they set up next to highways. No shelter.”
“Drongos,” Elisa observed, with great feeling.
“Drongos. I like that. No translation needed. Anyhow, Mal’s gliding along with that oh-so-confident vampire speed of his.” Chumani rose then, straddling Mal’s leg to get free and offer a sexy saunter that increased the laughter.
Times like these, Elisa could close her eyes and believe she was surrounded by the station staff, the hands carrying on as she brought food to the table. Only in this scenario, she couldn’t lay a hand on Willis’s shoulder as she leaned over to put the meat on the table, or feel the brief brush of his hand against her knee through her skirt, that fond and discreet intimacy, a form of possessive marking she didn’t mind anyone noticing.
She blinked back the moisture pressing at the back of her eyes. Damn it, she wasn’t going to draw attention to herself because of her erratic emotions. She focused on the story and ignored Mal’s scrutiny in her peripheral vision. He always seemed to tune in to her state of mind when she least wanted to be noticed.
“Anyhow,” Chumani continued. “He’s checking out the pride from a distance, making sure they’re adjusting well. He stops under a tree, looking down the hill toward them, and that’s when it happened. Apparently those finely honed vampire senses were jammed that night. One of the leopards was up in a tree over his head. Dropped down on him like a falling melon, rolled him down that steep hillside so he landed flat on his back right in the middle of the pride, the leopard still wrapped around him.”