Rachael shifted her weight, bent forward to circle his neck with her arms in an effort to comfort him. Something whizzed past her ear so fast it hummed, thudding into the wall sending splinters in all directions.
RIO reacted instantly, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her to the floor, his body covering hers. The movement jarred her leg, sent pain radiating up her thigh and through her stomach so that she wanted to scream. It was only then that she heard the boom of the distant rifle reaching them. At once a series of spits peppered the room, tearing up the wall and showering the room with splinters of wood. Rachael jammed her good hand into her mouth to keep from crying. Her leg burned and throbbed. It felt as if it might have burst open but she couldn’t move with Rio’s weight on top of her.
“Stay down,” he hissed. “I mean it, completely flat on the floor, Rachael. Don’t you move, not for any reason.” His hands were moving over her, inspecting her for damage. “You aren’t hit are you? Tell me.” He was shaking with rage. It welled up like a funnel cloud, dark and twisted and ferocious. The bullets hadn’t been aimed at him, the marksman had gone after Rachael. There were no lights on in the house and the blanket was over the window, candle was the only light and it had been enough for the marksman to take his shot. It told Rio they were dealing with a professional.
“It’s just my leg, Rio.” Rachael did her best to be calm. Screaming wasn’t going to help the pain and Rio’s weight had her flattened like a pancake on the floor. “I can’t breathe very well like this.”
Fritz had been under the bed. With the bullets whining so close he emerged, snarling and spitting, Rachael risked her skin by catching the cat to prevent it from exposing itself to the gunfire. The cat’s head spun around, saberlike teeth rushing toward her. Rio was quicker, pinning the animal and hissing a command. Fritz grew quiet and lay beside Rachael.
“Ungrateful wretch,” she said pleasantly. Rio ignored her comment, sliding his hand over the bed until he found the gun. It was automatic to check the load. “The clip is full and one’s in the chamber.” He thrust the weapon into her hand. “Stay down and behind the bed.” He rolled over, found his jeans and dragged them on.
Rio propelled his body forward using his elbows, staying on his belly as he made his way across the room to his guns. Carefully he inched his hand up to drag the cache of weapons to him. Almost immediately bullets spit into the wall above him. He rolled over, strapping a knife to his leg. “I have to go out there, Rachael.” His next stop was the sink where the candle was. Any professional would know he would want to douse that small light. He used a water bottle from his pack on the floor, taking aim carefully and spraying the candle until the flame went out leaving behind a small trail of smoke. Another spray of bullets peppered the wall and sink.
“I know. Is there another way put besides the door?” “Yes, I have several. I’ll use the one toward the back, farthest from his line of vision. Don’t move around. He’s probably got night vision glasses and he knows the layout of the house.”
“How could he know that?”
Rio didn’t know the answer to her question. At the moment it didn’t matter. He scooted back to Rachael and laid one of his knives on the floor beside her fingertips. “You’re going to have to use that if he gets close to you.”
“Do you want me to shoot at him and distract him so you can get out without him seeing you?” Rachael offered.
Her voice trembled and he could hear the note of pain she was trying so hard to hide from him. With his acute sense of smell he picked up the scent of blood. The crash to the floor had caused some damage to her leg and he knew it must hurt. He leaned into her, caught her chin and brought his mouth to hers. He put everything he had into that kiss. His anger and fear, but most of all his passion and hope. He didn’t want to admit to love, he barely knew her, but there was tenderness and something that tasted of love. “Don’t try to help me, Rachael. This is what I do and I’m better working alone. I want you safe, here on the floor when I get back. If he comes in, use the gun. Keep firing even if he goes down. And if he keeps coming and you run out of ammo, use the knife. Keep it low, in close to your body, and thrust upward to the soft parts of his body when he’s close.”
She kissed him back. “I appreciate Lesson 101 in weapons training. Come back to me, Rio. I’ll be very upset with you if you don’t.” In spite of the fact that she was terrified and trembling uncontrollably, she forced a smile. “I’ll be right here, on the floor, clutching the gun in my hand, so whistle to let me know it’s you coming through the door.”
He kissed her again. Slower. Thoroughly. Savoring the taste of her, appreciative that he had her. “May the fortunes be with you, Rachael.” He began to crawl, staying on his belly, rolling the last few feet. The pantry wall seemed solid enough, but a small section, no more than a crawl space, low to the floor was removable. He pried the boards loose and slipped through, taking the time to replace the section of wall in case his enemy shifted form.
The night was warm. The rain had momentarily stopped, leaving the trees dripping and intensely green, even in the darkness. He slipped into the foliage, ignored a large python coiled around a thick branch only feet from his home, and moved quickly along the network of branches high above the forest floor. Often he was forced to allow the leopard form to emerge partially, so his feet could grip the slick wood and he could leap from branch to branch easily.
He knew the general direction of his enemy, but it was a big area. In human form he didn’t have quite as many receptors to allow him to locate the enemy precisely, but his leopard form was highly vulnerable to the long-distance rifle. Rio was certain the intruder would be expecting the leopard. He had the advantage of knowing every branch, every tree. The animals were used to his presence and would never give away his position as they would that of the intruder. The wind didn’t betray him, carrying the scent of his enemy to him, taking his scent and drawing it away.
He recognized the smell of the assassin. It didn’t matter that he had taken human form, there was no doubt in Rio’s mind the attacker was the same one who had hurt Fritz. He had obviously trained as a sniper and was good at guessing where his target would be. Rio slowed his progress, sacrificing speed for stealth.
The foliage just down and to his left swayed slightly against the wind. His enemy was moving in closer to the house, changing position on the chance Rio had a bead on his line of fire. Rio paced along above him, high in the branches, waiting patiently for a glimpse of the man. He eased his rifle into position, peering through the scope. His adversary never exposed so much as a part of his arm, staying in heavy flora, allowing the shrubs and flowers and leaves to keep him invisible.
Several trees to the right of the house, Rio caught sight of a pair of eyes glowing through the foliage. He knew immediately that Franz had been drawn back to the area by the gunfire. The small clouded leopard was making his way home along the upper highway made of a network of branches. The leaves swayed. Rio swore eloquently, lifting the rifle to his shoulder and squeezing off several rounds into the heavy shrubbery where he was certain the intruder had settled in for his next chance at a shot. Rio coughed loudly, a grunting cough of warning, pinning the intruder down with a multitude of bullets to keep him from getting off a shot at Franz.
The small cat leapt back, disappeared completely, fading away as their kind could so easily into the thick fauna. Rio shouldered his rifle and took off through the trees, changing directions quickly, going up and into higher foliage, careful to keep from shaking the brush.
He’d given away the fact that he was outside the house, taking away any advantage he would have had. It was a game of cat and mouse now, unless he had scored a hit on a target he couldn’t see and he very much doubted if that had happened. Rio stayed absolutely still, lying prone in the tree, his eyes sweeping the area continually. The intruder had to have moved. No one could have stayed in the spot without taking a hit, but he was a professional and he hadn’t given away his direction.
Rio worried about Rachael, all alone in the house with the injured clouded leopard. He had no idea if she had the patience it took for the kind of waiting a sniper often had to contend with. It could take hours to flush out their intruder. He should have checked her leg before he left her. He had visions of her bleeding to death there on the floor waiting for him to return.
His eyes never stopped moving restlessly, sweeping the forest in a continual pattern. Nothing moved. Even the wind seemed to die down. The rain began, a soft patter falling on the dense canopy overhead. Minutes went by. A half an hour. A snake crawled lazily along a branch several feet from him, drawing his attention. Several leaves fell from the nest of an orangutan as it shifted its weight to nestle deeper into the branches of a tree. The movement, several yards from him, drew his attention.
Almost immediately Rio noticed the branches of a small shrub, just below the tree where the orangutan nested, started to quiver. It was low on the ground, an unusual choice for one of his kind. Rio watched carefully and saw the bushes move a second time, just a slight shiver, as if the wind passed by. He eased his rifle into position, careful not to make the same mistake. Back farther into the ferns and shrubs, he could make out the bruised and torn petals of an orchid scattered on top of a fallen and rotten trunk.
Rio remained unmoving, watching the area closely. Time passed. The rain fell in a steady rhythm. There was no more movement in the thick shrubbery, but he was certain the sniper lay in wait there. Several nocturnal flying squirrels leapt into the air, fleeing a tree directly across from Rio. They chattered and scolded to one another as they landed, clinging to the branches in a neighboring tree. Twigs and petals cascaded in a small shower onto the rotten log and shrubbery below. Rio smiled. “Good Franz,” he whispered to himself. “Good hunting, boy.” His eyes never left the forest floor.
A boot heel dug a short groove in the vegetation, as the sniper shifted to get a glimpse of the treetops over his head. Rio squeezed off three shots in rapid succession, spacing each bullet up the line of the body just as the intruder realized he was exposed. The sniper screamed as he rolled over a small embankment, then abruptly was silent.
Rio was already running along the branch highway, changing position, closing in on his target. He coughed twice, dropping flat both times to distort the sound, signaling to Franz to circle around and stay under shelter, then he was up and running again, covering as much ground as possible before the sniper could possibly recover.
Rio was far more comfortable stalking prey from the treetops, but he began to make the descent to the lower reaches, using thick branches to move quickly from tree to tree, careful to keep to cover as he did so. He dropped to the forest floor, landing in a crouch and going completely motionless, blending into the deeper shadows of the forest.
He was silent, scenting the wind. Blood was a distinctive odor, unmistakable in the air. Drops of rain penetrated the canopy and splattered onto the rotting vegetation. A bright green lizard raced up the trunk of the tree, the motion drawing his attention. A red splotch smeared a lacy fern embedded in the bark. Rio remained still, his gaze relentlessly sweeping the terrain searching for any movement, any sign of the intruder.
Several short barking calls signaled a herd of adult barking deer nearby. Something had disturbed them enough to cause them to sound the alarm. Rio leapt onto a low-hanging branch and gave the grunting cough of his kind to alert Franz. The enemy was wounded and on the run. There was more blood in the thick needles and leaves on the ground where the sniper had rolled, but it wasn’t arterial blood.
Rio made another careful sweep of the branches above and around him. He sighed as he bent and picked up a boot. The man had taken just enough time to wrap the wound to staunch the flow of blood, drop his rifle and clothes and had taken to the trees, using his leopard form to escape. It was much faster and more efficient to rush through the branches than to try to run wounded, weighed down with clothes, weapons and ammunition. Running down a wounded leopard at night was madness. Especially one of his own kind who had all the cunning and intelligence along with special training.
Rio scouted thoroughly, knowing leopards often backtrack and stalk their prey. Once he found blood smeared along a tree branch, and another time it was a bruised and twisted leaf, the only two signs marking the passing of the large cat. Franz joined him, scenting the air, snarling, eager to give chase. Rio was much more cautious. They were chasing a professional, a man capable of changing form. Like Rio, he would have planned several escape routes. He would have stashed weapons and clothes along the routes and he would have set traps ahead of time for the possibility of pursuit.
Rio wanted to make certain the sniper hadn’t doubled back, but he didn’t want to leave Rachael for too long when he didn’t know the extent of damage to her leg. He dropped a hand to the top of Franz’s head, a gesture of restraint. “I know. He’s come at us twice now. We’ll hunt him later. We’ve got to move our wounded, boy.” He scratched behind the upright ears and resolutely turned back to gather the clothes and weapons the sniper had left behind. He doubted if he would find an identity, but he could learn something from them.
He made his way back toward the house, Franz beside him, taking his time to make a more thorough inspection of the floor and trees in his realm. He found the blind where the sniper laid waiting for just such an opportunity as Rio lighting a candle might give him. The shifting of shadows against the thin woven blanket was enough to give a marksman a chance of hitting a target. He stopped just a few steps from the verandah, breathing deeply, allowing the knowledge that Rachael could have been killed to wash over him.
He felt sick, his stomach churning. The sweat that broke out on his body had nothing to do with the heat. The wind rarely touched the forest floor. It was always uncannily still there, the dense canopy shielding it, yet high in the trees, the wind whispered and played and danced through the leaves. The sound was soothing to him, the rhythm of nature.