Project Maigo(2)

But whatever is hunting us now, it isn’t Nemesis. She’s hard to miss. Whatever this is...it’s good at hiding. I spin around, taking in every tree, searching every shadow.

Very good at hiding.

Rustling brush spins me and Collins around, rifles raised. We won’t kill whatever is there, but if Collins’s aim is true—and it usually is—her target shouldn’t make it more than a couple of steps.

The brush shifts again. Low to the ground. Something small and black flits in and out of view.

I lower my rifle. “Was that a skunk?”

Collins sighs and lowers her weapon. “Looked more like a house cat to me.”

“Was walking kind of funny for a house cat.” The hair on my arms springs up as I speak, and my subconscious tightens my grip on the rifle. Before I fully comprehend the small creature I saw, or respond to the fresh wave of panic coursing through my body, a breeze blows past.

Moving with the breeze is a shadow that smells like roses.

I react on instinct, raising the rifle as I spin toward the shadow. The rifle, armed with a tracking device, will do little. My attacker doesn’t know that, though, and reacts to the pointed weapon with violence and intelligence. The barrel is thrust into the air. The fired dart is sent sailing into the forest.

I don’t care. My gaze is held by a pair of yellow eyes, both feline and human at the same time. They’re framed by a feminine face, again human, but with a small nose and whiskers. The cat-woman. She’s real.

And pissed.

The rifle barrel bends in her hands. An amazing feat of strength that I would applaud, if I wasn’t concerned about the same technique being used on my arms.

Collins takes aim with the tranq rifle, but never gets to fire. The cat-woman spins and kicks out a clawed foot, knocking the rifle to the tall grass around us. Continuing her fluid spin, the cat-woman slams her foot into my chest, knocking me back against a tree and knocking every molecule of oxygen from my lungs.

Collins goes for her sidearm. She’s a quick draw, but the cat-woman has leapt into the air—twenty feet into the air—flipping up and over Collins. The creature lands behind her. Collins spins around to fire, but her weapon is yanked up. A single shot tears into the air, garnering several small squeaks of fright from the nearby brush. Collins shouts in pain as she’s forcefully disarmed. But she’s a warrior. She gives up the weapon so she can use another. Her fists.

The cat-woman doesn’t see the first blow coming. Collins’s fist connects solidly with the side of the furry head. I recognize the strike. She was aiming for a knockout blow, to end the fight without having to kill the creature. But the cat-woman doesn’t go down. The creature staggers for two steps, shakes it off and lunges, tackling Collins to the ground.

I try to run to Collins’s aid, but I can’t complete a single step before falling to my knees. I have yet to catch my breath. The best I can do is plead with the animal. I suck in a loud breath and manage a whisper. “Stop.”

The creature rains down blow after blow, using fists. She has fingers, I realize, not paws, though I’m fairly certain she has claws, and I’m glad she’s not using them. Collins is doing a decent job fending off the punches, but she’d be shredded by claws. The cat-woman is tempering her attack. Given her strength, I’d say she’s pulling her punches, too. Still, too much more of this and Collins will be in real trouble.

Remembering I’m carrying an actual gun with real bullets, I reach to my hip and draw the weapon. My arm shakes as I take another deep breath. Not wanting to kill the creature, or Collins by accident, I speak again, this time finding enough strength to shout. “Stop!”

I don’t really expect the cat-woman to respond. But she does. She stops—and glances back at me, her eyes full of anger, distrust...and understanding.

My aim falters. “Oh my God, you know what I’m saying?”

The woman’s feline eyes squint at me. “You shouldn’t have come here.”





2



In that moment of distraction, when the creature’s eyes lock on mine, Collins pistons her knees up into the cat-woman’s backside—which, I might add, is also quite human and feminine. She’d be attractive, if not for the long tail. Sure, she’s also covered in black hair, but the shiny coat clings to her like spandex. Caught off guard, the cat-woman is pushed forward. Collins uses the momentum, heaving her arms up against her attacker’s chest. The creature is flipped off over Collins’s head, but like a true cat, the cat-woman lands on her feet and is ready for action before Collins can even get up fully.

The cat-woman’s legs coil. She’s about to pounce on Collins’s back. And this time she’s got her claws out.