Into the Lair

Chapter Forty-One

Katie fought against the bile rising in her throat. Pain, so much pain. Every touch to her skin was like a branding iron, a hot coal pressed against her flesh.

Her legs were spread, and she felt the cool metal brush against the inside of her knee. She arched off the table, unheeding of the soothing words whispered in her ear. His touch was wrong. It was evil.

And then as they overpowered her, her head lolled to the side. A single tear slipped over her temple, wetting the surface of the table she lay on. Her gaze flickered, and she saw Ian and Braden, their faces contorted in rage.

She continued to stare, sure she’d imagined them. Why weren’t they helping her?

And then Braden disappeared. A huge black cat flew over the table, taking down the man who held her ankles. A scream split the air. Esteban tried to push himself away, but the cat rose with a low snarl. His scream of fear died in his throat when the panther lunged, his jaws closing around his neck.

Blood, bright red and warm, splattered onto her chest. She rolled, trying to push herself upright. She collapsed on her side, too weak to do much more than lie there, staring down at the horror reflected in Esteban’s eyes.

The cat let out a hiss and moved away from Esteban as he stalked the remaining man.

She tugged at her slack and unresisting body, trying to force herself into motion. She rolled and went down on the floor in a puddle of Esteban’s blood. She raised her hands, staring in horror at the sticky, red stain on her palms.

“Katie!” Ian cried.

She looked up to see him straining sluggishly at his bonds, his face a wreath of torment. A gentle nudge at her side, soft and warm. She glanced down to see the panther rub his head over her arm. Then he raised his head and licked her cheek.

She stared into his green eyes and found calm. Slowly she reached out to touch his head. He ducked and butted against her palm and then leaned further in to nudge against her cheek again.

“Katie, get away from him,” Ian shouted hoarsely. “He’ll hurt you.”

She leaned against the panther’s neck and buried her face in his soft fur. She closed her eyes and weakly held on. After a moment, she glanced back up at Ian. “Shift,” she said softly.

His eyes flashed in helpless rage. “I can’t. I won’t hurt you, Katie. Get up. Get out of here.”

Her hand trailed over the panther. Braden. “You won’t hurt me. He won’t let you. Don’t you see? He’s protecting me. I can’t free you, Ian. I’m not even sure I can get up. Trust in yourself. In what you are. Let the jaguar free.”

Ian closed his eyes, his jaw ticking with strain. His fingers curled and clenched, his arms bulged and contorted. He let out an anguished cry, and then he seemingly stopped fighting.

She watched in wonder as his body reshaped. His arms slipped from the cuffs as they became slim paws. He fell forward, hitting the floor as he tore his hind legs free of restraint. His big head reared and flexed, his jaw opening and then closing in a snap of teeth.

He prowled to the fallen man, the last that Braden had taken down, and sniffed cautiously. Then he padded to where she sat. He tried to insert his heavy body between her and Esteban, steadily pushing her back with his strong shoulders. He leaned over Esteban and growled menacingly.

A low hiss escaped from the panther when miraculously, Esteban stirred, his eyes fluttering open. They were glassy and nearly fixed in death. Blood seeped from his torn neck, and Katie couldn’t countenance how he was still breathing.

He raised a shaking hand and let it flutter down over her arm. The panther hissed again, and the jaguar let out a menacing growl.

A gun lay at his side, one he’d tried to raise to shoot Braden. Katie dove for it, mustering all her strength in a final bid to make sure the cats were safe. Her fingers closed around it, and she dragged it weakly into her grasp.

But Esteban never made a move for it. He stared at her, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“I wanted to be free,” he whispered. “God…”

“You should have never tried to play God,” she said bitterly.

“Your God made me what I am,” he rasped as more blood frothed and foamed over his lips.

She leaned down, her body trembling with pain and rage. And fear for what this man’s actions had wrought. “God is no respecter of persons. He doesn’t make one man evil and another man good. He gives us choices. Control over our own destiny. And you chose wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Esteban whispered. “He made me imperfect. A mistake.”

“No one’s perfect,” she snarled.

Another stab of pain rolled over her body, and she closed her eyes against the urge to vomit.

“But some are mistakes,” he said. “Freaks of nature. Like me…”

He raised his hand again, his fingers twitching and pointing to the table across the room. “Take it,” he choked out. “The journal. Explains…everything…”

The last whispered past his lips, a long hiss, the sound of finality. Blood burbled and spit over the edge of his mouth, and his eyes lost the spark of life.

Then his body began to shake and tremble. She backed hastily away. The two cats placed themselves between her and Esteban, briefly obscuring her vision. They both hissed, and an eerie yowl sounded.

She shoved at them so that she could see. She wanted to be certain he was dead.

What she saw shocked the breath from her lungs. Lying on the floor where Esteban had lain just seconds before was a beautiful silver wolf. Blood smeared his fur and matted his jowls. The blue eyes were fixed in death.

She wrapped her arms protectively around her chest and stared as tears filled her eyes. The entire world had gone mad. Nothing was as it should be.

The gun lay useless in her lap, and she looked down, wondering how she could get herself and the cats out of the compound.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she squared her shoulders. Ian and Braden had risked everything to save her. They hadn’t betrayed her, hadn’t left her to Esteban. She wouldn’t leave them now.

She’d survived. She could feel sorry for herself later. Right now she had to overcome the mind-numbing pain ricocheting through her body like a short-circuited electric system and get the hell out of here.

She thumped the butt of the rifle down on the floor for leverage and shoved herself to her knees. She promptly bent over, vomiting as her stomach curled and squeezed relentlessly.

The two cats bumped incessantly at her legs, urging her forward. They flanked her protectively, forming a tight circle around her with their bodies. And to think she’d once worried about them killing her. As had they.

Sucking air through her nose, she gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her feet. She nearly went down in a heap and had to lean heavily on the rifle to keep her footing.

The cats followed her to the door, pressed tightly against her legs in an effort to keep her upright. Didn’t retain human cognizance, her ass. They knew precisely what they were doing. Maybe they didn’t remember afterward, but it didn’t mean they were mindless killers.

Her gaze fell on the leather-bound journal lying on the table by the door. Part of her had no desire to know anything about Esteban, but the contents might help Ian and Braden and their teammate Damiano. She might need help every bit as much as they did now that Esteban had probably turned her into a shape-shifting being.

She curled her hand around the spine and tucked it to her breast. Slowly and painfully she headed across the room to the small corridor that she knew led to the lower level. There was a tunnel leading to the outside. She’d heard Esteban talking. Maybe it was to her. She couldn’t remember. He’d spoken to her often, as though he was trying to win her over, to make her understand.

She closed her eyes as more tears simmered in her vision. What had he done to her? And why? What was he? Had he experimented on himself only for things to go horribly wrong as they had with Ian and Braden? Was his mad search for her an attempt to correct his mistakes, to find a cure?

They descended into the cooler, darker tunnel. A sound in the distance sent a wave of adrenaline through her body. Somehow she found the strength to raise the gun as she and the cats moved steadily forward. At the end, two men appeared. As they raised their rifles, she fired off a volley of shots. They went down and she shot again, not taking chances as they drew closer.

The cats sniffed at the bodies and growled but urged her over them.

Deeper and deeper, further down until she was certain they were entering the bowels of the earth. The tunnel wound and narrowed, and at several points she had to stop and lean heavily against the wall.

Tears of rage, of pain and frustration, of fear and of sorrow flooded her eyes, and she angrily brushed them away, furious that now of all times she was breaking.

And then the tunnel sloped upward. The going went slower as she struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Agony seared her muscles. They contracted and protested, shook like a newborn colt’s legs.

Sunlight. Just a beam shining and bouncing off the tunnel wall. She extended her hand, touching the slight trail of warmth along the cooler surface.

It grew brighter, and then she saw the small entrance ahead, a simple trap door in the ceiling, old enough that intermittent splashes of sun leaked through.

A few feet away, her legs gave out, and she fell headlong onto the floor. She lay there gasping, her eyes closed as pain raced and rebounded through her body like a current with no outlet.

The jaguar leaned down, his warm tongue lapping gently at her cheek. He nuzzled her jaw, pushing upward. The panther butted her in the middle of her back, nudging her forward, impatient.

She raised her arm, and the jaguar looped his head underneath, giving her purchase. The panther slid his head underneath her other shoulder and lifted.

With renewed strength, she rose unsteadily, her weight borne by the two large predators. She reached up to shove at the old wood. When it didn’t budge, she picked up the rifle and extended the butt, ramming against the doorway.

When that didn’t work, she stepped back several feet, took aim and fired a series of shots. The wood splintered and rained downward. She busted out the remaining pieces with the rifle and squinted as the sun shone in.

Now for the most difficult part. Getting out. When she started to reach, the jaguar issued a warning growl. She stepped back nervously, but he simply leaped into the opening first. The panther then nudged her forward, obviously wanting her to go next.

It took her a long time to hoist herself through the opening. Her entire body was bathed in sweat, and she was in so much pain, she nearly passed out. When she finally pulled herself out, she rolled to clear the entrance for Braden, and she simply lay there, her energy spent.

It wasn’t long before the cats started to nuzzle her again. Gently, probing and inquisitive. Then more firmly when she didn’t respond. They wanted her up and away from danger.

Her hand going automatically to the gun, she dragged herself to her knees but when she tried to stand, she found she simply lacked the strength. So she crawled. Between the two cats. They guarded her carefully, their gazes always seeking. They matched their pace to hers.

She headed into the lush foliage of the jungle. Shelter. A place to hide and to rest. And finally, she was at her end.

She crawled underneath a tree into a bed of damp leaves. Water dripped from the canopy overhead, soft and soothing.

The panther inserted himself between her and the tree so that she leaned into his warm body. She went without hesitation, pressing her back into his fur.

The jaguar settled himself a few feet away, his head up and staring, his ears perked and alert.

She just wanted to stop hurting. Just for a little while.