Framing Felipe (38 page)

“No
way,”
he
said,
spitting
more
blood
on
the
ground,
and
transforming
again.
He
got

rid
of
the
tail,
and
he
shrank
smaller,
and
smaller,
until
there
was
a
man—a
man
she’d

hoped
she’d
never
see
again—standing
in
front
of
her.
Smirking.

Her
ire
mounted,
teeth
ground,
and
on
reflex
she
drew
her
gun
and
fired
a
shot
into
his

shoulder.

He
stumbled
backward,
slapping
a
hand
over
the
bleeding
wound,
and
grinned.
“Oh,
it

hurts
so
nice,”
he
said
in
that
sinuous
voice
he’d
cooed
into
the
microphone
at
the
strip
club

so
many
times.

She
fired
again,
this
time
into
the
other
shoulder.

He
laughed
before
he
fell
to
his
knees.
“What,
you
really
thought
we
only
handle

weirdos?
No,
human
flesh
is
pretty
fun
to
trade
in,
too.
I
liked
that
gig.
That
was
a
reward

for
me
from
Jacques.
Gave
me
something
of
my
own
to
run,
and
you
had
a
part
in
fucking
it

up,
right?
Makes
sense
now,
why
the
FBI
didn’t
haul
your
ass
off
with
the
rest
of
’em.”

“How
would
you
know?
The
moment
they
stormed
in,
your
cowardly
ass
disappeared.

You
shifted,
didn’t
you?
So
they
didn’t
spot
you?”

Oh,
he
deserves
killin’.

But,
it
wouldn’t
be
at
her
hands.
It
wasn’t
just
the
Shrew
code
of
ethics,
but
her
own

personal
one
as
well.
Only
kill
in
self-‐defense.
He
hadn’t
pushed
her
there
yet.

She
aimed
her
barrel
at
his
left
kneecap,
and
squeezed
her
index
finger
on
the
trigger,

but
didn’t
pull
just
yet.
Shoulders
were
one
thing.
Visa
or
not,
knees
would
put
this
guy
out

of
commission
for
a
long
while.
If
he
was
going
to
spend
the
rest
of
his
life
locked
up

somewhere,
she
wanted
it
to
be
with
him
standing
on
his
own
two
feet,
and
not
being

pushed
around
in
a
wheelchair…like
that
one
girl
he’d
pushed
down
the
stairs
at
the
club.

The
one
who
wasn’t
earning
enough
tips.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
150
–
Holley Trent

“You’re
a
despicable
human
being,”
she
spat,
taking
several
large
steps
back
to
quell

her
impulse
to
push
him
again.
Kick
him
again—anything
to
cause
him
white-‐hot
pain,
at

least
for
the
moment.

There
was
a
third
roar,
and
this
time
it
was
close.
Sarah
turned
her
head
to
find
two

large
bears
hurtling
toward
her
with
the
familiar
big
cat
at
their
heels.

Why
were
they
running
toward
her
instead
of
the
alley?
That
became
clear
when
the

smaller
of
the
bears
leapt
at
the
Visa,
sinking
its
teeth
into
his
throat
and
dragging
him
to

the
ground.

Now
he
screamed,
successfully
frightened
by
the
bear
in
a
way
Sarah
hadn’t
managed,

and
he
tried
to
shift—to
gain
some
advantage.
However,
he
seemed
to
have
lost
too
much

blood
and
couldn’t
manage
it.
Sarah
was
content
to
let
the
bear
have
its
way.
It’d
save
her

some
work
and
a
lot
of
guilt,
but
his
saving
grace
came
in
the
form
of
a
were-‐mountain
lion

knocking
the
bear
off.

Patrick
swatted
the
bear
with
one
heavy
paw,
and
pushed
the
bear
with
his
forehead

toward
the
alley.
The
bear
roared
with
indignation,
but
went,
and
the
larger
bear
waited.

“No!”
the
Visa
shouted,
scrambling
to
his
feet.
“Not
her!
That
one’s
mine
!”

Just
enough
stupidity
for
the
larger
bear—the
male
bear,
Sarah
determined—to
stand

on
his
hind
legs
and
come
down
on
the
Visa
with
all
his
weight.

With
the
Visa
pinned
to
the
ground,
crying
out
in
pain,
Jacques’
camper
door
swung

outward
and
the
ringmaster
darkened
the
opening,
holding
a
semi-‐automatic
gun.

Mr.
Tolvaj
appeared,
ashen-‐faced
behind
him,
and
there
was
Dana,
creeping
around
the

camper
from
the
back
with
her
own
gun
drawn.

Jacques
fired
off
a
shot
at
the
bear
before
anyone
else
could
react.
He
missed,
but
it
was

close
enough
to
light
a
fire
in
the
bear’s
ass.

He
let
the
Visa
up,
and
looked
to
Sarah
with
a
stare
too
intelligent
for
an
animal.
She

bobbed
her
head
toward
the
alley.
“Get
the
hell
out
of
here.
Get
your
revenge
later.
It’s
my

turn
now.”

And
he
ran,
shifting
back
into
human
form
as
he
went
so
Sarah
could
see
his
black
hair

and
tan
backside
as
he
disappeared
around
the
corner.

Bryan.
Some
of
Gene’s
muscle.
She
hoped
Bryan
remembered
who
his
rescuers
were

when
he
got
back
to
Swain
County.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
151
–
Holley Trent

Now
Sarah,
with
one
eye
on
the
supine
Visa,
and
the
other
at
the
camper
door,
waited

for
an
opportunity.
Where
was
Felipe?
She
noticed
the
little
dog
had
gone
quiet,
and
the

Gypsy
cowered
in
the
shadows,
afraid
to
move.
Was
he
there?
She
hoped
so
for
his
sake.

He’d
be
less
likely
to
catch
a
stray
bullet
there.

“Drop
your
fucking
gun,”
Dana
shouted
at
Jacques.

He
startled,
finally
noticing
her
standing
there,
but
didn’t
do
as
she
said.
In
fact,
he

laughed.
“Right!
You
think
this
is
it?”
He
put
two
fingers
in
his
mouth
in
the
way
Dana
so

often
did,
and
blew
out
a
loud,
shrill
whistle.

Doors
slammed,
and
four
more
men
filled
into
the
open
central
area
surrounded
by
the

rows
of
trailers
and
campers.
They
mobilized,
silently
assessing
the
dangerous
elements,

though
incorrectly
in
one
case.
They
had
Sarah
pinned,
but
not
Dana.
They
must
have

assumed
Mr.
Tolvaj
was
watching
her.

“Drop
your
weapons,”
a
blond
man,
whom
Sarah
could
now
easily
peg
as
a
Visa,
said
as

they
crowded
her.

“Sure
thing.”

She
bent,
winking
as
she
knelt,
knowing
Dana
with
her
enhanced
vision
could
see
it.

Instead
of
setting
down
her
gun,
she
drew
her
other
one
too,
and
fired
a
shot
into
the
two

Visas
obscured
from
Dana’s
view.
Almost
simultaneously,
Dana
neatly
tagged
the
third
in

the
knee,
being
nowhere
near
as
kind
as
her
employee.
Before
Dana
could
pick
off
number

four,
number
four
drew
his
own
gun
and
pointed
it
at
Sarah.

From
there,
things
happened
in
a
blur.
Jacques
targeted
Dana,
who
dodged
around
the

corner
of
his
camper
before
he
could
pull
his
trigger.
Mr.
Tolvaj
delivered
a
stunning
blow

to
Jacques’
nose
the
moment
he
fired,
and
a
Sarah
saw
the
shadow
looming
behind
her.

She’d
taken
her
eye
from
the
strip
club
Visa
and
hadn’t
noticed
him
scrambling
to
his

feet.

Should
have
minced
his
fucking
knees
when
I
had
the
chance.

She
turned
just
in
time
to
see
him
kicking
the
now-‐open
box
away.
From
it,
he’d
taken
a

large,
full
syringe,
which
he
aimed
it
at
her.

Damn
.
She
knew
instinctively
what
was
in
that
syringe.
It
was
filled
with
the
same
shit

he’d
pumped
into
so
many
non-‐compliant
strippers.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
152
–
Holley Trent

“No!”
Mr.
Tolvaj
yelled.
He
ran
down
the
stairs
with
his
hands
held
up
in
a
peacemaking

gesture.
“They
are
good
people!”

“Brother,
you
are
a
traitor,”
the
man
with
the
gun
said,
and
he
swung
his
weapon

around
and
fired
a
slug
directly
into
the
right
side
of
Mr.
Tolvaj’s
chest,
with
Sarah

watching
helplessly.
As
fast
as
she
was
with
her
Shrew
reflexes,
she
couldn’t
have
predicted

that
betrayal.

“No!”
she
shrieked,
falling
to
her
knees,
with
one
landing
hard
on
something
firm
and

ridged.

That
fucking
collateral
damage.
And
she
wasn’t
the
only
one
angry.
The
Gypsy
ran
over,

firefight
be
damned,
and
laid
her
body
over
Mr.
Tolvaj’s,
weeping.

Sarah
patted
the
ground
beneath
her
knee
and
wrapped
her
fingers
around
the
cold

metal
oval.
A
caress
of
her
thumb
revealed
a
smooth
back,
and
on
the
front,
a
relief
of
a

man.
A
familiar
shape.
A
saint.
Felipe’s.
She
squeezed
the
medallion
hard
in
her
palm
and

made
a
quick
circular
scan
of
the
lot.
Where
was
her
lover?
Had
he
left
that
there
for
her?

Or
had
it
been
taken
from
him?

Jacques
laughed,
carelessly
dangling
his
gun
from
his
forefinger.
“Come
out,
Castillo.
I

know
you’re
here
somewhere
lurking.
Well
guess
what?”
He
took
a
step
down
and
scanned

the
area
as
if
he
genuinely
believed
Felipe
would
come
out.
“Just
like
your
father,
huh?
Are

you
going
to
hide
the
rest
of
your
life?
Go
ahead.
Make
it
easy
for
me.”

Sarah
tuned
in,
her
confusion
over
his
words
muddling
her
alertness,
but
kept
one
eye

on
the
Visa.
What
was
Jacques
talking
about?
What
about
Felipe’s
father?

“Just
shut
up!”
the
Gypsy
yelled,
still
sobbing.
“Shut
up!
Enough
of
this.
Somebody,

please,
call
an
ambulance.
Just
this
once,
call
the
ambulance!
Just
pack
up
and
go.
We
won’t

say
nothing!”

He
ignored
her
as
if
she
were
so
inconsequential.
And
maybe
to
him,
she
was.
“Come,

on
Felipe.
It’ll
be
just
like
old
times.
Police
in
Spain
still
think
Papa
Castillo
killed
his
wife,

huh?
The
meddling
bitch.”

“Rat
bastard,”
Sarah
mumbled
as
the
Visa
with
the
syringe
pulled
her
close,
pressing

the
tip
of
the
needle
against
her
neck.
In
the
shuffle,
she
dropped
the
medallion,
but
didn’t