Chapter 20

I went in to work on Monday and was relieved when my aunts didn't comment. I had already missed over a week's worth of work and my bills wouldn't pay themselves. Marcus told me not to worry about it, which I took to mean either he or Talon had already paid for all my expenses. I had no doubt it had been a move made in guilt and I didn't like it. I've always managed to take care of myself and overcome the tough obstacles like puts in my path and it scraped my temper in a bad way for the Demons to have made such a bold move without my consent. It was like they were saying I couldn't take care of myself and they pitied me. Rationally, I could surmise their motives were an attempt at recompense but no one ever accused me of being rational. I couldn't bring myself to snap at Marcus about it so I'd just have to wait until Talon returned and take it up with him.

The apprentices gave me a wide birth all day whenever we were in the same room together. I wasn't sure why; they'd only seen me after the battles, not while I'd been enraged and ripping people to pieces. They stole quick glances when they thought I wouldn't notice (they apparently forgot that I had a feline nature) but they wouldn't say anything to me. It might have been my scars or even my tattoos; I'd been naked when they'd come into Mathias's house after Talon and I had put down the attempted coup, so either one was a possibility. It could also have been Talon, but I was almost positive he'd looked human when they got there. Whatever it was, I hoped they got over it soon; I hated having people stare at me.

The news about the events in Montana had apparently spread fast. The store was busy all day with people who either wanted to know the story from my perspective or shake my hand in admiration. It was embarrassing and I couldn't wait to escape the shop at five o'clock. When I walked into the dojo, the Supernaturals in the room applauded, barraging me with demands for details. The humans were, for the most part, clueless, the story not having made it out of state. My father told me there had been a news clip about the rescue of the hostages but everything else had apparently been hushed. Supernaturals, however, had a huge gossip network that spanned the country, so everyone knew everything much more quickly than humans, much to my irritation. It was a relief when the sensei of the dojo, a tall red-headed human who hated disorder in his domain, broke up the throng and set us to work, keeping an eye on my and preventing anyone from trying to talk to me.

Afterwards, Sensei pulled me aside and recommended some moves that would help stretch and strengthen my leg. I hadn't been favoring it that much, I didn't think. When I asked him how he'd known, he just looked at me. Talon. Of course. It was a good thing the Demon wasn't there or I'd have torn him a new one. As it was, I had a hard time not lashing out at Sensei, thanking him and leaving before I said something I'd regret.

Driving home, it occurred to me that things could have been worse; at least no one was actively pitying me. I hated that even more than being coddled. You'd swear I was an extremely fragile human the way my aunts and Talon were behaving and some sort of super hero or something according to everyone else. I didn't need careful treatment and I certainly didn't want anyone's congratulations. I'd done what needed to be done in order to survive, just like millions of people did every day. I didn't want to be remembered for killing people; I just wanted to move on and put it all behind me.

Who knows? I may get lucky and some natural disaster will occur tomorrow. Hell, even some lucky schmuck winning the lottery would be good! Anything to get people's attention off me. I sighed, taking the turn off the highway and onto my little two-lane stretch of road, watching for deer in the growing dusk.

I was being rather uncharitable. From most other people's perspectives, I was a simple Panther Shape Shifter with no other powers that had managed to take out close to a dozen others. The amazing part was that they were Vampires, Demons and Werewolves, all so much more powerful on the Supernatural scale than me. Not only had I killed them without help, I'd saved others in the process and lived to tell about it. Or not tell about it, as the case may be. No one seemed to know about Talon's part in the tale; admittedly, he was only responsible for two kills but at least one of them had been crucial. I would be dead many times over if not for him.

Suddenly, a shape darted out in front of my car and I cursed my inattention as I swerved, taking my feet off the pedals entirely. More accidents happened because the driver stomped on the breaks instead of easing off the gas. I clipped whatever it was and kept going for a dozen yards before I felt I could stop. The setting sun was no help, blinding my sensitive gray eyes when I tried to look into my rearview mirror to see what I'd hit. If it had been a deer, it might be hurt or dead; either way, I couldn't leave it in the middle of the road. More people lived along this stretch of old highway than just Marcus, Talon and myself and the last thing I wanted was for one of them to crash their vehicles into a corpse I was too lazy to move.

Blinking away the after images of the sun, I opened my car door and got out, walking back the way I'd come, looking for the animal I hit. I didn't see anything as I scanned the ground, no body or blood of any kind. Casting my gaze around the open fields, there was still no sign. Maybe I only grazed it and it kept going?

I sighed and muttered, "Stupid deer." My left thigh muscles now ached, my workout having affected it more than I'd realized. Turning back to my car with a noticeable limp, I cast dark thoughts at stupid animals, grimacing as I went. A slight motion brought my head up and I froze, caught completely off guard by the sight of someone leaning against my car. There hadn't been any noise, neither engine nor footfalls, and that set me on edge. I couldn't even pretend it might be a concerned neighbor because my house was closest and it was still two miles up the road.

Caution kept me from changing shape as I tried to study the silhouette for any signs of recognition, not wanting to tip my hand just yet. From the size, somewhere around seven feet tall, I guessed it was male, but I left my mind open to other possibilities. His figure was shrouded in a cloak or hooded robe the color of old blood, the bulky shape beneath the fabric suggesting he had quite a bit of mass to go with the height. Lucky me. The air was perfectly still and heavy with the oppressive heat, preventing me from scenting anything more than baking pavement and dry grass; even the car exhaust from the highway didn't reach me. The longer I stared, the more convinced I became that I should know who he was, something in his stance or size hinting at familiarity but I'd be damned if I could recall why.

When he pushed off my car and started walking towards me, I knew. I'd been an idiot to stand there like the stupid deer I'd just been cursing instead of calling for help. A feeling of dread settled into my stomach, the distinctive click of claws on concrete clearly audible despite the distance of about thirty feet. The corpse-colored hand that emerged from one baggy sleeve chilled me to the bone as he reached up to push the hood back.

"It can't be," I whispered in denial, knowing full well now who was in front of me and knowing it shouldn't have been possible. "He killed you."

"He only thought he did," Zaire said smugly as he settled the hood across his shoulders, revealing a face that was only slightly different that the one haunting my dreams. The long horns that used to curve towards the sky were no more than jagged stumps on his forehead and he only had one ear. Shrugging the rest of the material exposed the angry, red marks that crisscrossed his leathery torso and down one leg, but by far the most remarkable attribute missing was his wings. They weren't there. I vividly recalled seeing them ripped to shreds before he and Talon had disappeared briefly and, while it was obvious he'd been doing some major recovery, I guessed no amount of healing could replace them. Didn't make him any less intimidating, though. The question that bothered me was "Why?" Why was he here? The fact that he appeared, not even fully healed, one week after he supposedly died made me extremely nervous.

"What are you doing here, Zaire?" I asked him finally, not expecting any kind of answer, just trying to buy time. A quick evaluation of my options made it clear that my only chance for survival this time was to shift to Panther as quickly as I could and run like hell for Marcus. Without his wings, Zaire would have to follow me on foot. He'd have the advantage for the twenty yards of open field but, once I entered the trees, I could turn the tables. This was my home turf and he'd made a mistake in confronting me here. All I had to do was wait for an opening.

"I'm here to finish what we started," he surprisingly replied, his voice deep and gravely, like a three-pack-a-day smoker. "Talon interfered before; I've made it so he wouldn't be around to save you again." Tension coursed through me, making me stiffen and worry about my mate. Taking that slight reaction as shock, he smiled, showing me his shark-like teeth. "I made certain the wrong people knew I made it out alive while also leaking a false location to one of his many spies. By now, he's most likely discovered the lie, but it no longer matters." In a more menacing voice, he said, "You've got no one to help you now."

Rather than let his words sink in and cause further distractions and despair, I fought back with my own verbal assault. "Boy, you sure do like to hear yourself talk. Are you sure you're related to Talon? Because I just can't see it. For starters, you're shorter and fatter." He actually wasn't, but it sounded less flattering than "bulkier". "Secondly, this form of yours," I gestured at his true form, "reminds me of a day old corpse; not very intimidating, especially with the current zombie craze. Lastly, you talk too much. Seriously, how can you consider yourself a bad guy when you prattle on and o-" I'd been watching him closely while I talked and so noticed the muscles of his torso and legs tighten in preparation of an attack. He was fast, something I'd learned the first time our paths had crossed, so I'd been ready.