Hybrid Zone Recognition (15 page)

My eyes widened at his question. How’d he know that? He’d only know that if he’d been watching me, too.

“You had me under surveillance!” I said sharply.

He glanced briefly at my surprised face. “The Organization had you under surveillance,” he corrected, “and we were about to intervene when Kenny did our job for us.”

“You watched me the entire time!” I had gone to the bathroom for goodness sakes. Repeatedly.

“Not me,” he said, shaking his head no. “Olivia and a couple other female operatives you haven’t met. We are not barbarians, Dr. Greer. Besides,” he continued with a smirk on his face, “I understand it was not as if you bathed during that time.”

I was now subjected to feeling his chest heaving in silent laughter. This was even more embarrassing than the NOLA incident.

“In fact, I have it on good authority that you were rather rank.”

I pressed my lips together and thought, Miranda, that traitor. He must have talked to her. She was the only one besides me that could have vouched for my rankness. Why hadn’t she told me they’d talked?

Regarding his amused face, I could think of nothing else worth arguing. It was a fait accompli. Any further show of embarrassment now would just be silly. Expressing my anger wouldn’t accomplish anything either except to maybe widen his smile some more.

“You have an unnatural interest in my bathing habits,” I said flatly.

He was still smiling when he admitted it. “Perhaps,” he said with a tilt of his head.

I looked off into the woods, working really hard to ignore the smug look on his face. It was a task made more difficult by the fact that his face was only inches from mine.

My superfluous examination of the woods found that we were about to join a well-trodden path. As a result, Michaels picked up the pace quite a bit. The increase in speed, thankfully, did not equate with a great deal of jostling for me. In fact, the rhythmic swaying in his arms was starting to lull me to sleep.

I lifted my head from his shoulder where I didn’t realize it had gone. “Not that I’m complaining,” I said sleepily, “but why are you carrying me?”

“The hike before we rendezvous with transport is approximately two miles. You’re in no condition to make that trek. At least not as quickly as we need,” he answered, his face once again wearing a stern expression as he focused on something off in the distance.

Well, if you had to hike through the woods, being wrapped in two strong arms attached to tall, dark and delicious was not a bad way to go.

Thinking of Miranda brought a sudden pang of worry to my heart. Was her Goon part of Michaels’ Organization or the Consortium?

“The Goon that took Miranda home, is he with you?”

“Goon?” he questioned, sparing me a brief glance. “I believe you are referring to Cedars. And yes, he is part of the Organization.”

That was good news. “Will they be safe when the Consortium realizes I’m gone?”

His frown deepened as he continued to focus on something up ahead. I looked too, but all I could see was the surrounding woods.

“Not sure,” he said, slowing down. “Juarez, has Cedars checked in?”

I turned my head, searching for Juarez, as he answered from behind us.

“He did check in this morning, but we haven’t updated him on the current situation.”

I wondered if Cedars had updated them on his current situation with Miranda. Hey, I thought happily, I might finally know something that they didn’t. Although, I couldn’t really classify it as important.

Michaels stopped walking, and I twisted back to the front to find out why. Pike was a few feet ahead of us, kneeling on the ground and holding his hand up to indicate a halt. He sprinted a short distance ahead, and then stopped again. Scanning the woods up ahead, he held up a closed fist and then flashed two. Juarez passed us to join him, and Pike indicated once left and once right.

“Michaels?” Pike asked.

Michaels sniffed the air. “Furries,” he said.

If Pike couldn’t smell them, I wondered how he knew something was there.

Juarez’s eyes were a glowing amber color as he turned and looked at Michaels. “They’re trying to cut us off.”

“Agreed,” said Michaels. “We are still half a mile out. We will have to dispatch them.”

Juarez looked down at some digital gadget he’d pulled from his pocket. “We have to do it quickly,” he advised. “They’ve called for reinforcements.”

Nodding, Agent Michaels stood me on my feet, but kept a hand on my shoulder. Staring straight into my eyes, he pointed off to the East. “Do you see where the trees veer apart?”

I looked in the direction that he indicated. There was only one spot he could be talking about, so I nodded once for yes.

“I need you to head in that direction.”

Alone? He meant alone. My eyes widened involuntarily, and I swallowed. I was bait. Injured, weak, stinking bait.

Sensing that I grasped the situation, he said, “That’s right, you will draw them out of cover, but they will never reach you.”

The look of disbelief on my face must have prompted his next comment.

“You have my word, Dr. Greer. They will not touch you. You have to trust me.”

Wasn’t I doing that already?

I squeezed my eyes shut. Trust. Such an easy thing on paper. Not so easy in the woods, in the company of three men you hardly knew, and being stalked by Furries—whatever those were. How did my life come down to trusting the word of a man I hardly knew?

“Dr. Greer?”

“It’s Macy,” I said, opening my eyes. “Just Macy.”

It was his turn to nod.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

He squeezed my shoulder and aimed me in the right direction. “We’ll be right behind you,” he assured me.

Where had I heard that before?

Chapter 10

I
allowed myself one breath to
gather my courage, and then I started for the split in the trees. I didn’t realize it while I was being carried, but my knees had stiffened considerably. Each step I took sent spikes of pain radiating through my legs. Being the trooper that I was, I gritted my teeth and kept walking. At least it overshadowed the throbbing pain in my hands and forearms.

He said half a mile. I could do that. No problem. Except for the unmistakable growling off to my left.

It was a high pitched growling and didn’t sound at all like what I’d heard from Michaels on several occasions. I was assuming that it belonged to one of the mysterious Furries. I wanted to look and not look at the same time. Surely it was covered with fur. Why else would they have dubbed it a Furry?

The growling was getting louder, which I interpreted to mean it was getting closer. The adrenaline kicked in, and my steps quickened accordingly, but the growling kept pace with me. Why didn’t somebody just shoot it already?

My increased speed erased the benefits of the reprieve my knees had experienced while I was carried. Blood began flowing again from the many cuts I had previously sustained. I could feel the rivulets flowing down my shins inside my boots. It didn’t take long for every step I made to emit a squelching sound, upping the gross factor considerably.

A snarl pierced the air in the opposite direction of the growling and startled me into missing my next step. I landed on one knee, generating a snarl of my own. A loud yelp quickly followed the initial snarl. Score one for the team?

Using the nearest branch for support, I hauled myself up and resumed my trek, albeit, not as fast as before. I risked a look off in the direction of the growling. Not surprisingly, I didn’t see anything but woods.

I turned back around just in time to watch myself plant the heel of my boot in a jumble of tree roots. Un-freaking-believable.

Ignoring the pain, I began to pull furiously at my boot. I couldn’t believe I had pulled such a stupid, amateur worthy stunt. I wrapped my arms around a low lying branch and used my free foot to push against the root entrapping my boot. I’d just about worked my ankle free when I realized something was different.

With both hands still painfully gripping the tree, I froze. The difference was the silence. Everything was quiet.

Sliding my foot the rest of the way free, I leaned against the tree. I had no illusions about who was the prey, and that served to settle one thing for me. When and if I made it through this, I was going to invest in some training. Combat, weapons, whatever I could find. I would do my level best to see to it that I never again was unequal to a situation like this.

The high pitched growling suddenly resumed, but I still couldn’t spot the source. I was about to step away from the tree, when Michaels flew through the air in front of me. My head swiveled in time with his flight, witnessing his midair collision with something that was aiming for me.

Michaels hit the creature, and they tumbled to the ground. As soon as they rolled to a stop, the fighting ensued at a pace that was almost too fast for me to follow. They twisted and turned around each other, seemingly not touching. Only, I knew they were by the snapshots of blood appearing at random intervals.

The something was ugly. It looked like a cross between a rat and a hyena with big poofy fur covering its entire body. This was undoubtedly what they were calling a Furry. Its appearance was made even uglier by comparison with Michaels’.

Michaels had not shifted his entire body, only the periphery elements. His long fingers were tipped with claws, and a quick profile of his face let me see that he was sporting cat like ears and very sharp teeth. He was intense, and wild, and fierce all at the same time.

Adding to the surrealness of the scene playing before me were the big chunks of fur drifting slowly to the ground. They seemed out of place amidst the noise and the fighting.

Every time the Furry broke free of Michaels, it headed my direction, enforcing my belief that its only goal was to get to me. But Michaels never let the Furry come within five feet of me before dragging it back into the fight. I briefly wondered if he was playing with the Furry. It would not be unlike a cat to play with its prey.

At one point, I made eye contact with it. I immediately recognized that I’d seen them somewhere before, but I couldn’t place them. It was a disconcerting feeling.

My eyes widened in surprise as the Furry suddenly released a high pitched howl and jumped straight up in the air. Before it had a chance to land, Michaels leapt and grasped the Furry’s neck between his jaws. The howling ceased immediately.

Michaels landed, as only cats could, and the Furry’s body thudded heavily against the ground. Great drops of blood began to spatter on the dirt directly beneath the Furry’s neck. Playtime was over.

When the Furry gave a few weak twitches, Michaels gave a quick jerk of his head, and I heard the sound as the Furry’s neck snapped. Now clearly dead, the Furry’s head lolled to one side, and Michaels let it go.

Unstrapping a canteen from his waist, he poured water in and around his mouth as he cleaned his face. He poured more water over his hands, rinsing them as well.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him the entire time. He was just…whoa. In a good way.

The Furry on the ground before him began to shift, and I succeeded in pulling my eyes away from Michaels. The figure of Hollins soon replaced the limp form of the Furry. Hollins was a Furry—used to be a Furry.

It was easy now to understand that he worked for the Consortium, which definitely explained why he’d made no effort to contain the situation at the Agency. And, why he’d despised my arrival.

The “oh” faded from my lips as I examined the events I had just witnessed. Total body shifting—amazing. This was science fiction come to life. The file had mentioned this but didn’t go into detail regarding the actual process or how significant the transformation was. After seeing it firsthand, I didn’t think words could have captured the wow factor of the transformation.

My attention shifted back to Michaels as he came slowly to his feet. He was moving very carefully, like he was afraid he’d frighten me away. Watching his approach, I had to say, not likely.

He wasn’t any less fierce close up, and now I could clearly see his very sharp teeth. He was still Michaels, but every feature of his face had shifted to varying degrees. I wasn’t afraid of him, but it wasn’t every day you met a real live Catman.

I’d never seen a hybrid this advanced. Usually they had only one or two features of some other species, and they didn’t shift back and forth. He looked like a real live shape shifter. I wondered if he could take the shift further like Hollins and if it would be rude to ask?

“We need to keep moving,” he said quietly. “I’ll lead, stay on my tail.”

I cut my eyes to his backside. No tail. I looked back up to find him glaring at me with the upraised eyebrow. It worked even in cat form.

“What?” I exclaimed. “You could have had a tail. You have the claws, and the teeth—” The one hand I’d managed to pry loose from the tree had taken on a life of its own, jabbing in the general direction of whatever feature I indicated. “—and the ears. Did I mention teeth already?”

The eyebrow slowly descended, and he held out his steady hand to my wildly gesticulating one. I shut my gaping mouth and, careful to avoid the claws, slid my hand into his. Tugging gently, he led me from behind the tree.

“What about Hollins?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder as we moved away.

“Hollins made his choice.” His tone left no room for argument. Not like I was going to.

We were soon joined by Pike and Juarez. Pike looked unhurt, but Juarez was sporting a gash across his forehead. It didn’t seem to slow him down though.

I was moving pretty well myself. I must have been in shock. I couldn’t even feel my knees. As evidenced by the smile that stretched from ear to ear, I felt downright giddy.

Michaels looked back over his shoulder at me and shook his head. But not even he could wipe this smile from my face. I had my very own Catman.

As soon as we passed the part in the trees, we entered a large clearing. Parked at the far side was some sort of SUV slash cargo van vehicle. I closed one eye and cocked my head to the side, but it still looked the same.

I probably shouldn’t have done that, because it resulted in me stumbling. Michaels didn’t miss a beat. He just scooped me up and continued towards the vehicle.

Pike sprinted ahead of us and opened the door situated in the center of the vehicle. It opened vertically and revealed a set of seats facing each other.

Michaels gently sat me down in what was technically the third row of seats and climbed into the seat opposite me. He unbuckled a first aid kit from the ceiling and began pulling out supplies. His claws didn’t seem to hamper him at all.

I watched as he located a pair of scissors and started cutting my pants off right above the knees. Now I was going to have on pin striped knickers with high heeled boots. I snickered at my new get up.

He briefly looked up at me and frowned before returning to his task.

I snickered again at his expression. Maybe the blood loss was making me giddy. Or it could be the concussion. Or possibly the low blood sugar. Breakfast was a long time ago.

Apparently, not long enough. The contents of my stomach rolled at the first glimpse of the damage to my knees. I automatically grasped the armrests and quickly looked up and away. The pain that seared through my hands reminded me of my additional injuries and only added to the waves of nausea now washing over me.

Releasing my hold on the armrests, I closed my eyes and pressed my head into the back of the chair. Small quick breaths were all I could manage.

“Take this,” Michaels said, holding an alcohol wipe beneath my nose.

I took it from his hand and pressed it to my nose. It helped keep the nausea at bay, but not so much with the hundred little cuts on my fingers that were burning like fire at the contact with the alcohol.

As the nausea faded, I slowly opened my eyes. “Thanks,” I uttered feebly and then closed them again.

He grunted and kept on working.

My boots were the next to go. I heard the clunk of them hitting what was hopefully the floor and not a trashcan.

“Can you save them, Doc?” I pleaded. I didn’t know if they were worth saving anymore, but I really liked those boots. We’d been through so much together in such a short time. The tunnel, the shaft, my first ever confrontation with a total shape shifting hybrid. They didn’t even hurt my feet. They were the best boots I’d ever owned.

“I don’t think I’ll have to amputate,” he said seriously.

I popped my eyes open again. “I meant the boots,” I said as forcibly as I could. He was not performing any kind of amputation on me.

He looked up at me, his wide grin letting me know he’d been teasing.

“Your bedside manner is lousy,” I complained, relaxing against the seat.

He leaned slightly forward. With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he countered, “Considering you are not in a bed and have therefore not been a party to my bedside manner, the veracity of your statement is highly questionable.”

Whatever. I was not going to discuss his
prowess
bedside or otherwise. But I couldn’t help smiling at his obvious implication. Realizing I was still staring into his eyes, I deliberately shifted my focus to my knees.

It wasn’t so bad once most of the blood was gone. But some of the cuts looked deep. Was that my kneecap? My happy feeling suddenly fled, leaving me queasy once more. I looked away quickly, focusing anywhere but my knees.

The vehicle looked state of the art, equipped like something out of a spy movie. At the front of the vehicle, I spotted Olivia. She was in the driver’s seat but turned around facing me with her attention on Juarez. She winked a hello at me when I caught her eye.

“Not yet,” Juarez hollered.

I hadn’t heard her ask a question, but I guessed she had. I looked at Juarez seated to my left. The desk surrounding him had multiple screens and keyboards. He must be command central.

“Are we clear yet?” Olivia called back to Juarez.

He tapped a few more keys and yelled, “Just like we planned it.”

This was how they planned it? Someone needed a demotion.

“Will do,” she said and spun to face the front. “Everyone strap in. We’re in for a bumpy ride,” she warned.

Great. What use did I have for a smooth, quiet ride that might actually allow me to recover a little? Honestly, why would I want to do that to myself? Recover, only to be thrust into some other untenable situation. My inner rant was terminated by the sudden vibration in my seat as she started the vehicle. This was not going to play well with my already perturbed stomach.

I closed my eyes, but then opened them again as a rhythmic whining started overhead. I watched as the seatbelt automatically descended to within reach. Clumsily, I fidgeted with the clasp until Michaels reached across and fastened it for me.

“Thanks,” I whispered, closing my eyes again. My voice sounded weak, even to me.

The constant spinning of the vehicle was not helping either. Focusing all my energy on my breathing, I tried to draw measured breaths in and out. After a moment, in which at no time did the vehicle stop spinning, I felt compelled to voice my protest.

“Olivia, I would greatly appreciate it, if you would stop driving in circles.”

My solemn request was met with her less than sympathetic chuckling. She wouldn’t think it was so funny when I hit her with my projectile vomiting.

“Don’t worry,” said Juarez dismissively. “Olivia’s a great driver.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I should know,” he said suggestively, revealing the true nature of their relationship.

“Juarez,” growled Olivia from the front.

Juarez lifted his eyebrows momentarily as if caught and then ducked his head, feigning remorse. But his wink indicated he had no such feeling.

I chuckled softly at Olivia’s discomfort. Glancing at Michaels, I saw that he was smiling, too.

Feeling the vehicle lurch forward, I opened my eyes but kept them averted from Michaels’ workings on my knees. We were in the woods now, and Pike was in the passenger seat next to Olivia. I hadn’t seen him get in or noticed when the door was shut. I must have dozed off for a minute.

“Any sign of pursuit?” I asked Juarez.