The Rising (13 page)

Ash froze, torn between stopping him and stopping the woman from calling the police. The man brushed past him. I swallowed a growl and forced myself to stay perfectly still. If he wanted an overgrown cat, that's what I'd be. Let him get his photo. Convince his wife I wasn't a threat. I hoped Ash could persuade them to leave afterward.

“See, Sue? Just a big kitty. You're a pretty kitty, aren't you? A big, pretty kitty cat.” He kept inching forward. “Get the camera ready, Sue.”

Every instinct told me to run. Cat instincts. Wild animal instincts. But I was still human. I didn't need to surrender to those. So I slitted my eyes and forced myself to stay still while this idiot approached a 120-pound cougar with his hand out, ready to scratch it behind the ears.

Wild animal attacks on humans are rare, but of all the predators in Canada, the cougar may be the one most likely to do it. Obviously, this guy never got the memo. After this, he'd probably be going to zoos, climbing the enclosure, saying, “Here, watch this. . . .” Famous last words, as yet another unfit human is removed from the gene pool.

His wife had gone silent, clutching her phone as she watched. Ash's chin bobbed, nodding encouragement to me. Just get through this. Let him pat me. Let him get his damned photo and leave.

“Nice kitty,” he said. “Such a nice kitty. Sue? Are you ready?”

His wife hesitated, then lifted the phone for a picture. He glanced back at her.

“Good. We're going to get the photo of a lifetime. Bill Wilson taking down a cougar bare-handed.”

“Wh-what?” Ash said.

The man lunged. He tried to grab me in a choke hold. I twisted out of his grip. Panic shot through me like wildfire, consuming all thought.

I was cornered. I had to fight back. Attack the threat. End the threat. Eliminate the threat.

When he came at me again, I felt my back legs bunching. Heard myself snarl. Felt my lips curl back, fangs flashing. It was like I was outside my body, watching it prepare for attack. Prepare for the kill.

“Bill, stop!” The woman's shrill voice knifed through my skull.

“No way. I'll teach this mangy cat to respect humans—”

Ash grabbed the guy by the jacket and yanked him so hard he stumbled. But he wrenched free and came at me again. That split-second interruption was all it took for my human brain to snap back to life and when he rushed me, I took a swipe at him. It was a good swipe—with a paw the size of a lunch plate—but my claws were retracted and I didn't plan to make contact. Still, it was enough. He saw that swat coming and he jumped back. Ash caught him by the collar and heaved him out of the way as I squeezed under the SUV.

“I'm calling 911,” the woman babbled. “I don't care what you say. I'm calling.”

I lay under the big vehicle. It was a tight fit and I was flattened against the pavement, ears smashed against my head. The woman reached the dispatcher before Ash could get to her.

“There,” she said. “The police will come and shoot it.”

“Hell, no,” her husband said. “I've got my rifle from last weekend. I should have remembered that earlier. Forget a photo. I'll get a real trophy.”

The man opened the hatch of his SUV—the one right over my head.

“You're going to shoot her?” Ash said, his voice wavering, as if he was struggling to stay calm and reasonable. “Do you know how much trouble you'll get in? They're an endangered species.”

“Not in BC they're not.” He rummaged through the back of his truck. “I'm a hunter, boy. I know what's what, and this beast just attacked me—I hope you got a picture of that, Sue. I'm within my rights to shoot it.”

“In a parking garage? After your wife called 911?”

“Couldn't be helped.” A rifle case clicked. “It went after her, too. Right, Sue?”

His wife said nothing.

“Huh,” the man said. “Looks like I forgot to unload it. We're all set, then. I'll just—”

I heard Ash let out a snarl and watched his running feet disappear as he jumped the guy. The man fell back. Ash took him down as the woman screamed. Ash leaped to his feet first. He kicked the man, hard enough to make him wail. Then he kicked him again.

“Run, Maya!” Ash shouted.

I was already squeezing out the other side of the SUV. I raced into the lane and heard a rumble. I looked over to see headlights, so bright they blinded me. Tires squealed. Someone shouted. I saw the man lying on the ground, his wife running to the car, shrieking and sobbing. There was no sign of Ash.

“Run!”

Ash tore from between the SUVs, my clothes bundled under his arm. “Run!” he yelled again.

I roared up the ramp, Ash behind me. As I rounded the corner to the exit, headlights blinded me again and I dived to the side. The wrong side. I was pinned against a wall near the exit, trapped between it and a car. A police car.

“O
H, YEAH,” SAID THE
officer in the passenger seat as he lowered his window. “That's a cougar.”

His partner swore and stopped the car. I could see Ash on the other side, tucked behind a pillar, his gaze darting from the cruiser to me.

The passenger door opened.

“Hey!” his partner called. “Don't do that!”

Ash stepped from his hiding spot and waved for me to get out of the building. I tore through the exit and nearly mowed down two girls in miniskirts. The police siren echoed their screams as the officers shouted at Ash and the girls to take cover.

I barreled past the girls and raced along the sidewalk, only to see a whole crowd of college kids pouring from a bar. I veered onto the road. I didn't stop to look. I didn't think to. I saw all those people and my brain sent me flying the other way—right into traffic.

Brakes squealed. Horns honked. People shouted. A crash behind me as cars collided. I kept running, swerving around them, tearing down the middle of the street as drivers stopped and gaped and pulled out cell phones.

Another siren joined the first. Then a third. The sounds snapped me back and I raced to the opposite sidewalk, pedestrians flying like bowling pins as they scattered out of my way.

“Maya!” Ash shouted behind me. “You need to get—”

I veered down the first gap between buildings. An alleyway. I raced along it until I passed a row of recycling bins outside a doorway. I tucked myself between the bins and was standing there, flanks heaving, when Ash caught up.

I looked up at him.

“Yeah, that's what I meant. Take cover.” He peered up and down the alley. “This looks good. Just stay where you are.” Another look. “And tuck in your tail.”

I pulled it in and sat, my sides still heaving as my heart rate slowed.

Ash crouched beside me. “You okay?”

I dipped my muzzle in a nod.

“Scary, huh?” He said the words awkwardly, like it wasn't something he was accustomed to admitting.

I dipped my head again.

He hunkered down, getting more comfortable. “I think we did okay. Best we could, under the circumstances. Just . . . a string of bad luck.”

I chuffed.

“I shouldn't have gone after that kid,” he said. “I should have listened to you. Ignored it. But . . .” He rolled his shoulders. “Sometimes I can't.” He looked down the alley. “Most times I can't.”

It's not easy. There are all kinds of racism—from that frat-boy ugliness down to the kind of stereotyping and misconceptions where people don't even seem to realize they're doing or saying anything offensive. I had been lucky growing up in Salmon Creek. The way we were raised, I didn't even feel different. I was just one of the kids. My parents were just a normal couple. I think I was ten before I even heard the term
interracial marriage.

Even when I encountered racism outside Salmon Creek, it usually rolled off me. The worst of it often came from rednecks whipping past in rusted pickups. I looked at them and I looked at me—class leader, track star, straight-A student—and their slurs about dirty Indians and drunk Indians and dumb Indians were laughable.

Mom says crap like that comes from people who've accomplished so little in life that they feel the need to lift themselves above someone, anyone. So they pick skin color or religion or sexual orientation and say, “Well, I might not be much, but at least I'm not a . . .” I'd look at those guys, and see the truth of her words. Even with the frat boys, I knew I was their equal. In a couple of years, I could be sitting in class beside them.

But it was different for Ash. He certainly seemed smart, but from the way he talked, he hadn't spent much time in school. If I asked about college, I'm sure he'd make some crack about having to decide between Harvard and Yale. That wasn't in his future. Nor were athletic trophies and community awards and academic scholarships. He'd look at the rednecks in the rust-bucket pickups and say, “At least they have a truck.”

I wished I could talk to him about that. I couldn't. Not now, obviously, and probably not even when I'd shifted back to human form. It wouldn't be a topic he'd discuss. Not with me. Probably not with anyone.

We waited. I could still hear sirens and shouting. At one point, a couple of cops looked down our alley, but it was only a cursory glance.

“When you're ready, we'll get in farther.”

I chuffed. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that—all I needed was to shift back and we could walk out.

When a familiar scent wafted down the alley, I bristled. Ash noticed and looked over.

“You hear something?”

I shook my head and lifted my nose to make a show of sniffing the air.

“You smell someone. Daniel?” A split-second pause. “No, you'd be a lot more excited if it was him. So it must be . . .” He cursed. “Someone from the Cabals?”

I nodded.

“I'd ask who, but I don't think you can manage charades. Doesn't matter anyway. If they're here—”

Words drifted in from the street, seeming to rise above the others. “—dark patch on her flank.”

We both heard it and went still, straining to pick that one voice from the chaos.

“Yes, that's her,” the voice said. “Juvenile female with that distinctive dark patch. She escaped earlier today. I notified animal control. They said they'd pass on the message to the city.”

“We never got it,” a woman's voice said.

“My apologies, then. We aren't local, and we were uncertain of proper protocol. We'll deal with that later. She needs to be found promptly and handled with care. She's a very valuable research subject. It's critical that we get her back safe and sound.”

“I'm a lot more concerned about the safety of our citizens.”

“You needn't be. That man said she attacked him, but you don't escape a cougar attack without a bite. You usually don't escape alive. She's accustomed to people and poses no danger to anyone except herself. My men have tranquilizer guns, as do the animal control officers. We need help locating her, but we can take it from there.”

Ash looked over at me. “Is that . . . him?”

I nodded. It was Antone. I thought of how fast they must have heard the news of a loose cougar and how fast they'd mobilized. Not to mention how easily they seem to have convinced the authorities to let them take point on this operation. They were insanely organized. Insanely experienced. Insanely well funded. How could teenagers hope to outwit them?

I closed my eyes and slowed my pounding heart. We'd done it so far.

At what cost? How many are left? Maybe just you and your brother.

I kept breathing, struggling for calm. I could do this. I had to do this.

“We need to head out,” Ash said. “Down the back way.”

I nodded and took one last sniff. Antone's scent was gone. I must have caught it as he'd walked near the alley mouth, but he'd passed now, and even his voice had faded.

As I crept out, Ash stayed by the recycling bins, watching down the way we'd come. Guarding me again. I appreciated that. I'd have to tell him so when I could—and once I could figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn't embarrass him.

“All clear,” he whispered. “Now go, go, go!”

He jogged along behind me and nearly smashed into my hindquarters as I leaned to peer around the corner. When I backed up, he said, “What?” then looked for himself.

There was nowhere to go. The alley was really just a walkway for the adjoining businesses. It went around to a rear door, then stopped at a fence. Beyond the fence were more walls.

I considered. Then I rounded the corner and hunkered down. The alley was bounded by two buildings and a two-meter solid fence. While I didn't like the feeling of being cornered, if anyone approached, I'd have time to get over that wall. It was wood and I had sixteen razor-sharp climbing spikes permanently attached to my feet. Ash, however . . .

When he followed, I nudged him back. I used my head and then my paw to gesture around the corner. He didn't get it.