Tiger Magic

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Tiger.”

Tiger heard Carly’s voice as he rose toward consciousness, toward a mountain of pain that waited for him. They’d shot him in the basement of the research facility, repeatedly, to see how much he could take, but they at least let him rest between bullets.

“Sean.” Ellison was nearby, voice heavy. “I think you’re gonna have to bring the sword. No, not for me. For Tiger.”

Tiger heard the exclamation on the other end of Ellison’s cell phone, which must have survived the crash and the shooting. The thing was as resilient as Tiger.

“He’s waking up,” Ellison said. “Who the hell was that?”

“Hell if I know.” Carly’s voice held tears, and two hot droplets fell onto Tiger’s face. “I don’t care right now. He’s still alive. Thank God.”

Carly’s lips touched his cheek. Tiger tried to pucker his in response, showing her how much he’d learned. She didn’t stop weeping, so he must not have done very well.

“Tiger, honey, don’t move,” Carly said. “We’ll get you to a hospital. You’ll be all right.”

“I don’t know,” Ellison said. “He’s amazing, but that was about fifteen rounds from an automatic weapon. It has to have torn him apart inside.”

“Don’t say that. He’s strong. He’s a fighter.”

“We’ll help him the best we can, trust me.”

“Hang on, Tiger. Hang on.”

Carly’s light touch slid through Tiger’s pain, making his heart beat harder, his lungs draw breath. The pain became incandescent then, but Tiger was breathing, functioning. He might not need the Sword of the Guardian yet.

An odd custom, the working part of Tiger’s brain thought. The Guardian’s sword pierced the heart of the dead Shifter, or the dying one, releasing the soul and turning the body to dust. The legend, Sean had told him, said that the Sword had been created to save Shifters’ souls from a nasty, evil Fae prince. The Shifters’ bodies had crumbled to dust, and the souls of the enslaved Shifters had been released, freed to go to the Summerland. The story reassured all Shifters that, though they might be enslaved during life, they never would be in death.

Tiger had been enslaved until last winter—he hadn’t known about the seasons even to know what winter was. Now he was free, at least as free as he could be. He lived under Liam’s watchful eye, had to wear a fake Collar to fool humans into thinking he was still enslaved, and had few remote places in which he could run flat out as a tiger, but it was better than what he’d had.

But now he wanted more. Freedom to be with his mate. The joy of running until he wanted to stop. Tiger was tired of being feared. Mistrusted. In pain. Afraid.

“Carly.” Tiger barely moved his lips, but the sound of his mate’s name gave him strength.

He needed to live, so he could be with her. Forty years of hell had coalesced into the moment he’d seen her backside sticking out of the red car, heard her voice, felt her smile. He’d start believing in the Goddess if he thought she’d known to bring Tiger to the road at the exact moment Carly Randal needed help.

“Carly.”

“Don’t talk. Don’t move.” Carly bent over Tiger, her face streaked with tears. “We’re going to help you. They’re coming.”

“I don’t need . . .”

Talking was too much effort. Keeping his mouth shut was a good idea.

Time must have passed, because more people were now kneeling around him. He’d expected to hear sirens. Humans loved their sirens.

“His breathing is good,” Dylan said above him. “Andrea.”

A smooth, feminine hand pressed to Tiger’s chest, palm flat. He smelled Andrea’s strange half-Shifter scent, the subtler scent of her cub clinging to her. Tiger hoped the boy had been left safely at home. That’s what Shiftertowns were good for. Keeping the cubs safe.

Sean knelt near his mate, the vibrant hum of the Sword of the Guardian shimmering. Tiger had always been able to hear it, though Sean had said that was unusual.

Tiger cracked open his eyes. He could barely see, but he could make out Andrea with her hand around the Sword’s blade, Sean holding its hilt. Curling wisps of silver snaked from the sword into Andrea, and out through Andrea’s hand to Tiger.

“He’s torn up in there,” Andrea said. “A complete mess. So many of them.”

Bullets, she meant. The threads of magic from Andrea hurt—hurt a lot.

Then Carly laid her hand on Tiger’s forehead. The coolness of her touch spread like a balm through his battered body and tangled limbs.

Andrea’s eyes popped open. “Wait. What?”

The new pain that tore through Tiger cut through Carly’s touch, even his mate’s presence not soothing it. Tiger groaned, then the groan turned to a roar. He balled his fists, clenching his jaw.

“What the fuck?” That was from Sean.

White-hot trails flowed through Tiger’s body, paths cutting from the embedded wounds to his skin. Tiger shifted without wanting to, becoming a snarling half-man, half-Tiger beast as the pain continued.

“What are you doing?” Carly cried. “Help him.”

“I can’t.” Andrea pulled away, the silver threads going away with her, but Tiger barely felt the disconnection.

Blood bubbled up from his wounds, and then from new ones as the bullets that had lodged inside him pushed their way out. The bullets clicked together and rolled off him, gathering in little piles around his body.

And it hurt. Tiger kept growling, pain like a blast furnace. The bullets hadn’t hurt this much when they’d gone in.

“They’re closing up,” Carly said, wonder in her voice. “Tiger, how the hell are you doing that?”

If Tiger knew, he’d also find a way to stop the crazy pain. He groped for Carly, and Carly grabbed his hand and held on. Tiger’s beast fur receded as the agony lessened a bit, his human flesh and fingers returning.

“Andrea, what did you do?” Dylan sounded angry, but his scent betrayed his alarm.

“I didn’t do anything,” Andrea said. “I mean, nothing more than I normally do. I close my eyes and see the wounds as threads, and I try to untangle them. I hadn’t even started—it was such a mess.”

Ellison coughed. “Well, whatever it was, can you see if it will work on me?”

“Now, please,” a new voice said. Female, small but loud—Maria, the young woman Ellison had fallen madly in love with.

Andrea and her Fae scent moved from Tiger, leaving him relatively alone with Carly. “You did it,” Tiger whispered. “The mate’s healing touch.”

“No,” Dylan said sharply before Carly could answer. “This was more than that. You, my friend, are becoming more of a puzzle instead of less of one.”

“Whatever,” Carly snapped at him. “Instead of questioning him and lecturing him, how about getting him home so he can rest? He saved my life, and I think he deserves a little quiet for that.”

When Tiger woke again, he was in the big loft on the third floor of the Morrissey house, in the room where he now slept.

He liked this room, large and breezy with four windows, one on each side. After a life spent in darkness, shut away, not knowing winter from summer, sunrise from sunset, now he could see the world he’d missed. Sometimes Tiger simply sat up here, watching the Shifters move through their lives, gazing at the many human houses and buildings that surrounded Shiftertown, the cars and people that rushed through, never knowing he watched over them.

Now he woke in the large bed they’d bought for him, holding Carly’s hand.

“Why didn’t ambulances come?” Tiger asked. For some reason, this was what preyed on his mind. There should have been ambulances, police, and men with tranq guns, as there had been in Ethan’s neighborhood on top of the hill.

Carly bent over him, her green eyes full of concern. “I don’t know. Maybe the Shifters told them not to.”

Tiger started to shake his head, then stopped as it started to pound. “Humans don’t do what Shifters say.”

“I have no idea, then. Doesn’t matter. You spurted those bullets out of your body, and your wounds are already closing. Andrea says it’s crazy. Dylan says that sure, you’re faster at healing than most Shifters, but this is something new. Even for you.”

“You were there.”

“I know I was there. I saw it firsthand.”

“The touch of a mate.” Tiger squeezed her hand, finding himself so weak he barely moved her fingers. He hated being weak.

“Don’t even look at me like I have some kind of magic powers. This isn’t the movies. And anyway, Dylan said no.”

“Dylan doesn’t know everything.” Tiger’s lips twitched. “He only thinks he does.”

“Yes, well, Liam said no too, and Sean, Andrea, and Ellison, and a really, really big man called Ronan, and a ten-foot blonde named Glory.”

“Dylan’s mate,” Tiger said, his voice too faint for his comfort.

“So I gathered,” Carly said. “She looked at me like she’d take a piece out of me if I wasn’t nice to you.”

“What happened to Walker? The shooter was dressed like Walker.”

“Walker was taken to Ronan’s house—I think that’s what I heard. They didn’t want him here when you got back.”

“I need to talk to him.” Tiger pushed aside the sheet and lifted his shoulders off the bed, then groaned and fell back. “I’ve never hurt this much before.”

“I bet you never tossed bullets out of your own body before.” Carly stroked his fingers, the cool of her healing running through him again. “They’re pretty freaked out downstairs. Talking about you.”

“Why aren’t you?” Tiger asked.

“Downstairs? I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

He’d meant why wasn’t she freaked out, but he let it go. “Because you’re my mate.”

Carly frowned, which pushed her bottom lip out a little, so sexy. “About that. Connor explained to me what you mean by mate. We need to talk, but we can wait until you feel better.”

Tiger wanted to laugh, but he decided it would be too painful. “Sean says that the four scariest words a woman can say are we need to talk.”

“Could be. But not now. Lots of time for talking later.”

“You’re my mate,” Tiger said. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Mmm hmm. Close your mouth, sweetie. Sleep. Get better.” Carly leaned down to him. Her lashes fluttered against his lips before she slid up to kiss them. “And thank you for saving my life. Those bullets went into you so they wouldn’t go into me.”

“Anytime,” Tiger whispered. Another cool breath of her slid through him, another kiss, and Tiger fell into a vast well of sleep.

Liam Morrissey’s anger climbed another ten notches before he hung up his cell phone and slammed it to the kitchen counter. He’d walked out here alone to take the call, but Dylan had followed him, ostensibly to retrieve a beer from the refrigerator.

“Who the hell blabbed to the council?” Liam asked, fists on the counter. “Dad, did you?”

Dylan shook his head in his quiet way. “I’m not leader anymore, lad. I don’t talk to the others without your knowledge.”

“I know. Sorry.” Liam’s edginess about Tiger had him looking for something to attack, but lashing out at his own father wasn’t the answer. He reined in his temper, or tried to.

Dylan’s stoic look made Liam feel even more ashamed. His father had accepted the changeover in leadership without a fight. Dylan had known it was time on that fateful day, even if it took away a large part of what he was. Liam hoped he was half as calm when it was his turn to step down.

“They want to meet,” Liam said. “All of them.”

“That was Eric?” Dylan asked.

Eric Warden led the Shiftertown in Las Vegas. His mate, Iona, had first found Tiger. Eric had helped Tiger escape, and then Liam had offered to let Tiger live in Austin, under his supervision.

Liam had questioned that decision every day since he’d made it. Not because he didn’t think Tiger deserved a fair shot at life, but because he hadn’t learned enough about Tiger to satisfy himself or the informal council of Shiftertown leaders that he was safe.

During his leadership, Dylan had begun the council, which was simply a gathering of the Shiftertown leaders off the radar to discuss common problems and help each other find solutions. Shifters being the way they were, these sessions often degenerated into volatile arguments, but leaders had come to know they could call each other when problems might affect more than one Shiftertown.

Eric had phoned this afternoon to say the Shiftertown leaders wanted to meet about Tiger. They’d heard about him getting shot up by the human Ethan and rampaging in the hospital room. Liam had relayed that Tiger had been shot again today, this time deliberately by an unknown assassin.

Or maybe Carly had been the target. Who the hell knew? Ellison had been out cold at the time, so he couldn’t report on what had happened.

Maria, Ellison’s mate, had glared at Liam in pure fury at the accident scene, as though he ought to have prevented Ellison from getting shot. The shot had gone into Ellison’s leg, missing anything vital. If the assassin had planned it that way, he was a hell of a marksman.

Eric hadn’t been happy at the news of the second shooting, and finished by saying that the other leaders wanted a talk as soon as possible. They’d picked Dallas as the meeting place, because it had no Shiftertown but was close enough to Austin that Liam could get back quickly if needed.

“So the shites are wanting me to leave Tiger in this state and trek up to Dallas so we can sit around a table and talk about him? I don’t have any idea what’s going on with him. Tiger’s insisting Carly is his mate—what’s going to happen when she says no, and he won’t take that for an answer?”

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” Dylan, ever practical, said. “You can’t miss the meeting, son. They’ll send trackers down here to drag you there if necessary. You can’t blame them for worrying about Tiger.”

“I’m worried about Tiger. You think I’m not? How in the hell did he survive that, and then start to cure himself? What the fuck did those humans pump into him?”

“It’s getting on for time to find out.”

Liam shook his head. “Eric blew the lab to smithereens. We’ll never find anything in it now.”

“But people will remember.” Dylan touched his forehead. “It will be inside their heads. We find out who worked on the Tiger project, and we ask them.”

“Revealing his whereabouts and putting him in more danger.”

“We’ll just have to ask in a way they can’t refuse.”

Liam wasn’t sure what his father had in mind. Dylan had a ruthless streak that Liam had never found in himself—maybe Liam’s mum, Niamh, a mischievous lady but one with a heart of gold, had bred it out of him. But then, Dylan had had to hold the family together through good times and times of peril, times of near starvation and grief, and then bring them to America to take the Collar and live in a Shiftertown. The decisions Dylan had made would put ruthlessness into anyone.

At least Liam’s dad had found happiness again with Glory. Glory was a strong woman who didn’t mind sharing her opinions, but Dylan needed someone who wouldn’t take any shit from him. A lesser woman would be crushed by him, and Dylan knew that. They were happy together, which made Liam happy. His dad had gone through too much.

“Go to the meeting, son,” Dylan said. “Sean and I can hold the fort.”

“But can you hold Tiger?”

“Can you?” Dylan met Liam’s gaze with his, not looking away. Dylan might not be Shiftertown leader or leader of the Morrissey clan anymore, but that didn’t mean he’d weakened.

Liam scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know, Dad. He does what I ask him, but I know it’s not because he’s submissive to me. He obeys because he chooses. The day he chooses not to, I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Then we’d better find out everything we can. Find out how to stop him, if that’s even possible.”

Liam punched his fists into the counter. He wished Kim were home, but his wife had a job that was important to her, and he didn’t want to pull her back home every time he needed a hug. He’d save up the need for when they were alone tonight, when he’d open her businesslike blouse button by button, slide off her skirt, indulge himself in the scent of her . . .

“I hope we don’t have to stop him permanently,” Liam made himself say. “I like Tiger, and he’s good with the cubs.”

“He is, aye,” Dylan said. “But he’s something we don’t understand. And if it happens one day that he’s not good with the cubs . . .”

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” Liam said, echoing his father’s words. He bent his head and studied the patterns on the counter, the old wooden surface stained with generations of coffee mugs and his daughter’s juice from this morning. “Shite, but I hate going to Dallas. I always get lost on those freeways.”

Walker Danielson woke up again flat on his back, his wrists taped together in front of him. He’d swum into and out of wakefulness since the Shifter had taken him down to the yard in front of his neat bungalow. Walker had woken again in the living room of one of the bungalows, surrounded by men in Collars who looked as though they wouldn’t mind tearing Walker apart and leaving bits of him around as a warning to others.

The desk jockeys in the Shifter Bureau thought Shifters were pushovers, contained and controlled. They congratulated themselves about it.

But Shifters were dangerous, and that Bengal tiger Shifter was even more dangerous than most. Walker’s commander knew it too. When Walker had made his report about the hospital to the Bureau, he’d been told to contact Dr. Brennan and suck up to the human woman Tiger seemed to like, and see if they could make her find out more about Tiger for them.

Carly Randal. She was pretty, friendly, polite—a well-brought-up Texas girl. She hadn’t bought Brennan’s bullshit for one minute. She’d recognized the danger in Walker, and knew her Shifter friends couldn’t let Walker go.

So now Walker woke up on the floor of yet another Shifter house, after the one called Dylan had shot tranquilizer into him, looking in no way worried about it. Dylan’s gaze had told Walker that if the decision had been up to him, he would have given Walker a lethal dose.

Walker assessed his situation through half-closed eyes while he lay as motionlessly as possible, so that anyone set to watch him wouldn’t realize he was awake.

They’d taken the duct tape from his mouth. That didn’t mean kindness—it meant they didn’t worry about who would hear him if he called out. He must be pretty deep into Shiftertown.

This living room was similar to the one in the Morrissey house. The ceiling was beamed, the windows wide casements, one open to let in the air, as hot as it was. This house was bigger than the other, the living room twice the size of the Morrisseys’. The back half of the room bore a long table with many chairs. A polished wooden staircase led upward, and a door near the table presumably led to a kitchen.

A lot of Shifters must live here, judging from the length of the table and the haphazard way the chairs had been pushed in. It looked like every chair was used.

The room appeared to be empty, as far as Walker could tell. They’d left him alone. Because Shifters were the best predators on earth, that meant they weren’t afraid of him escaping. Not even with the open window.

Walker wet his lips, opening and closing his mouth a few times. He’d love some water.

But thirst was only a distraction. Walker wasn’t dying. He moved his wrists, dislodging the sticky part of the tape from his skin, and set about making his way out of the bonds.

Walker closed his eyes as he worked, taking time to rest. Getting out would not be easy, and he’d need all the energy he could find.

Duct tape was easier to manipulate than plastic zip ties or metal handcuffs, unless he had something with which to pick a handcuff’s lock. Tape was a matter of loosening it in order to slide out at least one hand, and from there he’d be fine.

Thank the saints he’d had a mentor who’d insisted on putting Walker through exercises like these and more. You might think me unfeeling and my methods harsh, the man had said. But if you’re ever in any of these situations behind enemy lines, you won’t panic. You’ll know exactly what to do. He’d turned Walker into a talented escape artist.

The tape loosened and Walker wriggled one hand free. That was enough to let him unwind the other hand. He reached for the tape on his legs.

And found himself right back down on his back, a foot planted in the center of his chest. A bare, shapely foot.

Walker looked up a long, equally bare and equally shapely leg to a woman who wore denim shorts over a fine ass and a T-shirt that read “Keep Austin Weird.” She had dark brown hair that glinted with lighter highlights, the hair falling a little past her shoulders in thick waves. Her face was incredible, her smile wide, her eyes brown and inviting.

She had to be more than six feet tall, and the foot on his chest spoke of strength.

“Not so fast, sunshine,” she said, her smile widening. “You stay here with me.”