Thinning the Herd (13 page)

“Want all of 'em dumped out?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.” The scarecrow's button-eyed gaze remained on Galahad. “All of them but the boy. Take him to Selene.”

With an acknowledging grunt, Eddie wheeled one of the bins beneath the trees and deep into the shadows.

Galahad shivered as the fire of Change raged through his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut against the muscle-tearing grip of Shift.

“I hope you have a few lives left.” A voice as dry as ashes.

Galahad's eyes flew open. The scarecrow stood in front of him. “I'm looking forward to killing you,” he said, “on a semi-regular basis.” The scythe swung down.

Galahad threw himself hard to the left and rolled. Red-hot needles seared him from the inside out, skewered every cell of his body. He screamed, the sound a cat's wounded yowl. The zip-ties slipped from his wrists. Change convulsed through his body. He came to a rolling stop as his clothes flopped and tangled around his shrinking mass.

Another whoosh and the scythe's edge sliced through his silk shirt and leather pants, but he was no longer inside them. Tail low, Galahad bolted from his clothing, darting in between the scarecrow's legs.

The scythe whistled through the air, a pulled blow. Galahad dashed through the underbrush to a twisted and moss-furred old oak. Dug his claws into the bark and climbed. He clung to a limb high up, his heart thudding against his ribs. Peering through thick green leaves, he looked down.

Shadows swallowed the world as day morphed into night. The scarecrow strode back and forth, scythe at his side. Twisting his neck, he turned his head completely around. Galahad's hackles raised. Although night veiled his face, Galahad knew he was staring in his direction. The scarecrow sensed him, maybe, but couldn't find him.

Couldn't take the
time
to find him.

Andy picked Galahad's clothing up from the dirt. He stood beside the scarecrow as Eddie up-ended a bin. Desdemona, her hands zip-tied in front of her, tumbled to the ground in a disheveled, yet still lovely, heap. Galahad's heart fell. He didn't see any other bins and he didn't see Nick or Hal.

A plaintive howl rose into the air, ascending with the moon and the evening's first winking stars. Galahad swiveled his ears toward the sound. Below. In a large pet-carrier beside a truck. A black nose pressed against the metal-screened door.

Stuffed in before Change, Galahad wagered. His tail twitched. Could he sneak down and free Nick without being seen?

Eddie walked over to Desdemona, grasped her upper arm, and hauled her to her feet. The scowling one-shape promptly kneed him in the family jewels. Gasping, Eddie fell to the ground and curled up like a pill bug, his hands between his legs. Desdemona whirled and ran.

Ears pricked up, tail swishing back and forth, Galahad watched as she plunged into the woods. Alan, face furious, started after her, only to halt in his tracks when the scarecrow uttered one dry husk of a word, “Mine.”

With a curt nod, Alan turned his attention to the groaning Eddie.

The scarecrow stalked past both men and into the dark woods, moonlight glinting from his scythe. Galahad hoped with all his heart that Desdemona was running as fast and as hard as she could.

With Alan busy with Eddie and the scarecrow gone, Galahad didn't pause. He climbed down from the tree, sprinted through the underbrush, and into the clearing. He tippy-pawed his way to the kennel. Pushed the lever. Nothing happened.

Nick sniffed him eagerly and licked him with the tip of his pink tongue. Heart sinking, Galahad realized he needed to both push down
and
squeeze the lever—a job requiring opposable thumbs. Which, currently, he lacked. Stupid thumbless body.

Galahad crouched in front of the kennel, tail lashing, as he considered his options. He could abandon Nick until he Shifted again—which wouldn't be until daylight. In two-legged shape, it wouldn't be easy to sneak into a guarded camp during the day. Night would be best, but then he wouldn't have the required thumbs. His tail lashed faster.

What had they done with Hal? He missed his friend and his catch pole. Worried about him. He only had one life . . . Maybe Hal had come to and escaped the tunnel. For all he knew, Hal was already on his way, an ass-kicking cavalry of one. Hope sparked.

But in the meantime . . .

Galahad sprang on top of the kennel. From the woods, he heard the sharp crack of breaking twigs and the crashing rustle of one-shapes blundering through the underbrush, heard shouts. All of it headed
away
from the clearing. But the thing that concerned him was the scarecrow. Looking for Desdemona? Or waiting for him?

The full moon lit the sky, a halo of silver encircling it. Inside the kennel, Nick panted. Craning his head down, Galahad peered into the kennel. Nick's upside-down gaze met his, gleamed gold.

“Mew.”

“WhoooOOOOooo,” Nick replied.

Galahad backed up. A decent plan. Their only option, really. He'd drop down on the latch with all his weight and Nick would push at the door at the same moment. Hopefully, between the two, they could work the latch like a pair of opposable thumbs.

Galahad arrowed himself at the latch and hit it with his front paws. Nick pushed. As the door popped open, Galahad pirouetted to the ground. Bounding out of the kennel, Nick dashed madly into the woods.

Galahad leapt, intending to follow, but someone snatched him up, in midair, fingers squeezing the kitten-fold at the nape of his neck. Jerked him back. He laid his ears flat and hissed. Hot breath dampened his fur. He went still. Curled his body. Not fingers at his neck, no. Fangs.

A strong, musky, female odor enveloped him. Musk and, underneath, the faint, night-sweet scent of violets. A lycan held him in her mouth. She carried him to a trampled down spot of grass, then dropped him. Galahad swiveled and crouched. Froze.

A goddess sat on her haunches before him. Moonlight glimmered in her eyes, rippled along her sleek, tawny hide. Her tail swept back and forth through the grass. She opened her mouth, huge fangs catching the light. And screamed.

The sound echoed throughout the woods, powerful and hungry—challenging. Galahad, heart thumping, flattened himself on the grass.

The cougar regarded him for a long moment, then confirmed his suspicions.

“Yowrr.”

Queen of the Night. Lady of the Green Woods. Sister to the Moon.

Selene.

18

CHEW TOY

Selene's ears pricked up and her eyes dilated. Her attention fixed on something beyond Galahad. A dry laugh rustled through the woods. A sudden snarling, ripping, shrieking noise boiled up out of the underbrush.

Nick! And it sounded like he'd found the scarecrow.

Galahad sprang up and darted through the brush toward the ripping, snarling, shrieking chaos. A golden blur leapt over Galahad; Selene jumped over him like the mythical cow over the moon. She vanished from sight.

But not from hearing. A cougar screamed and every living thing in the green woods froze. Willed themselves invisible. Death padded through the night on four paws, tail whipping back and forth, a pendulum marking the minutes remaining in their lives.

The snarling-ripping-shrieking stopped. Galahad paused, listened, strained to hear beyond his hammering heart.

A low growl rumbled into the air, intensifying into a slavering snarl. Selene answered with a screeching yowl that reverberated through the night, primal and merciless. Galahad ran, mewing, hoping Nick would hear him and turn tail. No matter how powerful, how fierce, a wolf was no match for a cougar.

Still mewing, Galahad zipped out of the underbrush, past a grumbling Selene to Nick. The wolf's yellow gaze never wavered from the cougar in front of him. He snapped and snarled, saliva dripping from his fangs. The source of the fight—the laughing, evil scarecrow—was nowhere in sight.

“Yowrr,” Selene demanded, tail lashing, her gaze fixed on Nick.
Give him back
.

Only then did Galahad realize that the scarecrow wasn't missing, he was still very much present—beneath Nick's paws. Pieces of cloth and straw were scattered on the grass and in the underbrush. The scythe gleamed in the dirt beyond the scarecrow's reach. One of Nick's front paws rested squarely on the scarecrow's stitched-on grin.

Galahad looked at Nick and gave him the slow blink of affection. The scarecrow was now little more than a black magic chew toy and Desdemona was no longer being pursued. She was safe.

“Mew.”

“WhoooOOO,” Nick agreed.

Only Louis remained to be rescued and, hopefully, they would have that accomplished before Hal turned up with both his catch pole and his woman at his side.

Nick's tongue lolled from his mouth, but his gaze remained locked on Selene.

“Get. Off. Me.” A muffled whisper. Dry as August heat. Dead as sun-curled leaves.

Galahad glanced at the scarecrow's face. Batted at one of the black button eyes.

“Stop that!”

Galahad batted, plucked, batted some more.

“Yowwrrr,” Selene said.
Yes, stop that before I
make
you stop
.

“Mew.”
Fine. I'm bored anyway
.

Tail lashing, Galahad plucked the button free from the scarecrow's face and tossed it up into the air. It bounced into the dirt. Then he pranced away from the scarecrow and sat primly in the dirt, tail curled around his feet.

Selene fixed him with a baleful glare. Her tail whipped back and forth. A low growl rumbled in her throat.

“Mew,” Galahad said. A simple trade. The scarecrow for Louis.

Selene pricked up her ears. Blinked. Lifted a paw and licked it.

Bluffing, then. Galahad extended a leg and groomed. Two could play that game. He licked and plucked at his fur, the familiar movements soothing. His tongue scraped foreign oils from his fur, washed away the unwanted scents of others.

“You're dead, dog,” the scarecrow mumbled around the paw Nick'd planted on his mouth. “Dead. You
and
that mangy cat.”

Nick panted, tongue lolling. Shifted his weight. Straw crunched.

“Mmmppfff!!”

“Um . . . Selene?” Eddie ventured, his tone respectful. “I know you said not to interrupt you when you're grooming and all, but I thought you might want to know that the magic kid woke up.”

Galahad paused, tongue in his fur, and lifted his gaze. Selene stared at her minion with a gaze as hot as a branding iron—one that'd sear the word
IDIOT
across the one-shape's forehead. Backwards. So he could read it every day in the mirror.

Lowering her paw to the ground, Selene said, “Yowwr?”

Eddie's forehead wrinkled and he suddenly smelled of sweaty desperation. “Huh?”

But Galahad understood:
And you left him alone?

“Y-O-W-W-R,” Selene repeated.

“No, no,” Eddie assured her. “The magic kid is still tied up and Alan is babysitting.”

Approval glimmered in Selene's eyes. She glanced at Galahad, winked. Then she craned her head and swiped her tongue along her shoulder and neck.

Not to be outdone, Galahad allowed his tongue to continue and resumed preening as well. So Louis was alone with Alan. Tied up. But if Louis was
y
ō
kai
, like Galahad believed him to be, then he'd have already changed to True Form. If he were lycan, he'd have Shifted to feline form. So, either way, Louis Dark should be a cat at the moment. Which begged the question: How, exactly, had Alan tied up the magic kid?

Several possibilities presented themselves to Galahad. All of them ended with Louis running off into the forest. A cat hiding in the night.

Galahad stopped grooming, but kept his leg extended. He glanced at Nick. Nick's ears swiveled toward him. Listening. Yellow eyes alert. Galahad tilted his head toward camp. Glanced at the scarecrow. Returned his gaze to Nick's.

Nick's tongue rolled back into his mouth. He dipped his head and seized the scarecrow's arm with his teeth. Then ran.

Eddie stared, mouth open.

Selene leapt to her feet and gave chase. Galahad darted across Nick's trail of twigs and straw and headed deeper into the woods, mewing for Louis.

“Hey!” Eddie finally found his voice. “He took the scarecrow!”

Ah,
Galahad reflected.
Another human with a penchant for the obvious
.

At that, Galahad felt a sharp pang. He missed Hal, missed him deeply, and wished he was once again perched on Hal's shoulder. Riding the Rupert Express.

Ducking under bushes and leaping over moss-furred logs, Galahad mewed: LOUIS-LOUIS-LOUIS-COME-OUT-LOUIS. Over and over. Scanned the night-shrouded woods for the gleam of eyes.

After being stolen and swallowed by Bob and awakening in the forest, Louis had no doubt hidden himself well, dazed after suffocating in Bob's swollen belly. Most likely scared. Louis meant so much to Desdemona. Who meant everything to Hal. And that was more than enough for Galahad.

A cougar's scream shredded the silence. Galahad's heart skipped a beat. Another scream echoed through the night. Different. Lower. Sharper. He stopped. Flattened himself on the grass.

Not just one big cat.

Two.

And Nick was between them.

Galahad spun and launched himself up out of the grass, aimed for camp. His feet couldn't stay ahead of his galloping heart. He couldn't run fast enough. Through the trees, shadows edged in yellow and orange flickered. He smelled the fire, dried pine and old oak, heard the wood crackling beneath the fire's tongue. Bad Guy Camp. Strained voices—male and female, harsh breathing.

And tension. As taut as adrenaline-coiled muscles. As musky as first-night lust.

Galahad slowed his frantic pace as he drew nearer to the clearing. He crept beneath a small shrub and, peering through green leaves, studied the firelit scene.

Muscles rippling beneath black fur—fur that gleamed like a spill of blackest silk, drinking in the moon's pale light—Louis paced back and forth in front of the blazing campfire, flames and moonlight burning in his eyes.

Louis was a cat, yes. And he was a black cat, yup, definitely. But he was also a panther, a fact Desdemona had failed to mention. A black panther from a place deeper and darker than the green woods. Wasn't Louis also a bayou boy?

Selene paced on the opposite side of the fire, her golden gaze on Louis, a low growl rumbling from her throat. Her tail flicked back and forth, back and forth. But Louis's tail swayed with his restless movement only. His tail revealed nothing. And that unsettled Galahad. He couldn't read Louis. Didn't know what the lycan might try. And lycan Louis obviously was, which meant Galahad had been . . . wrong. Mistaken. As unlikely as that might be.

His ears angled outward and his tail twitched.

Forcing his gaze away from the prowling cats, Galahad saw Alan sitting on the ground, a bloodstained handkerchief pressed to his temple. Across from them, Desdemona held Eddie in a stranglehold, despite her bound wrists. Eddie's face reddened as he struggled to free himself.

Galahad purred. Although dirt smudged her pale face and bramble snags ruined her purple-striped stockings, Hal's purple-tressed woman was a sight to behold. A beautiful sight.

Curled on the scarecrow, muzzle resting on his paws, Nick watched Selene and Louis's deadly dance. The scarecrow drummed his fingers against the dirt. Over and over and over.

“Throw me the keys to your truck,” Desdemona said, shifting her attention from the big cats to Alan. “Once we're out of here, I'll let Eddie go.”

Selene continued to pace, her gaze locked on Louis's sleek form. “Rowwr.”

Galahad stiffened. Crept closer. The Queen of Night didn't give a rat's ass about Eddie. Or was he a victim of Louis's bad luck as the panther crossed back and forth in front of him?

“She says—” Alan began, but Desdemona cut him off.

“I know what she said, ass-wipe.” Tossing her hair out of her eyes, Desdemona said, “Fine. Keep your damned keys. We'll walk out of here—Louis, Galahad, Nick, me,
and
Eddie. And you're not gonna stop us.”

“Ah. But
I
will.” A shadow stepped behind the lovely one-shape and slipped an arm around her throat and squeezed. Desdemona gasped for air, her eyes widening.