The Warrior Vampire(103)

“Naya…? Luz…?”

The dark shadow of Manny’s body didn’t so much as twitch. Through the darkness, Naya made out the white outline of a circle on the ground around him. The salt would deter the mapinguari but wouldn’t stop it.

“I’m here. Luz?” Silence answered and Naya’s heart stuttered in her chest. “Luz?”

Damn it.

Another complication to draw her focus. Nothing was going according to plan so far, and her watertight plan was beginning to leak like a sieve.

“I don’t know what this thing is, but it’s packing a punch.” Manny’s words were muffled as though he spoke from the corner of his mouth. “My skin is crawling with magical energy and the damned thing isn’t even in sight. Not gonna lie, Naya, this is making me nervous. And where’s Luz?”

That made two of them. Her nerves were pulled as taut as a guitar string. One hard pluck and she’d snap. She couldn’t let herself think about Luz right now. Between her safety and Ronan’s, Naya’s concentration was shot. She needed a clear and level head to center her own magic. She wasn’t going to be of any use to anyone otherwise.

“Luz can take care of herself, Manny.” Naya could barely hear her own voice over the din of the music. She crept closer, keeping to the foliage until she stood off the foot trail, just to the left of the salt circle that surrounded him. “Where is it? Can you tell?” The music was already too loud for her to discern the location of the source.

Please don’t say south.

“To the south I think. That’s where I feel the most intense concentration of energy.”

Naya’s teeth gnashed and she gripped the dagger tighter in her palm. Luz had flanked Manny from the south. She’s okay. She can take care of herself.

The trees rustled several yards ahead and Naya tensed. She’d feel a hell of a lot better about the impending fight if she’d known everyone she cared about was safe. Focus, damn it. Naya crouched low, ready to pounce as she waited for the mapinguari to approach. Power gathered in her gut, the magic snaking through her limbs with silky warmth. She shook with pent-up energy and her head pounded from the cacophony of music that blared in her ears. Just a little closer. A few more steps and she’d have it. A sleek, dark shadow crept down the trail toward Manny. A chuff of breath fogged the air as the mapinguari approached. A little closer. A few seconds, that’s all she needed to wait before she could attack.

* * *

Whatever Ronan fought, it wasn’t a shifter. At least, not anymore. The cat was larger than the jaguar he’d fought a couple of nights ago. Its eyes glowed feral green in the darkness and its incisors were unnaturally long. Likewise, its body was bulky with heavy muscle, the animal’s shoulders larger and out of proportion with the narrow taper of its body. Powerful haunches flexed as the beast moved to pounce and Ronan shifted on the balls of his feet, ready to dodge an attack if need be. This was a planned distraction. Something engineered to separate him from Naya. He needed to put the animal down and get to her ASAP.

“You’re the second male I’ve fought too cowardly to meet me face-to-face.”

The cat snarled, revealing its long, sabered teeth. It lunged at Ronan and he started, a prebattle ritual a lot like playing chicken. Armed with one of Naya’s long daggers and a .45 Ruger loaded with silver-tipped rounds, the obvious solution would be to shoot the fucker Indiana Jones–style and walk away. The gun remained holstered at Ronan’s side, though. He doubted a bullet would slow the mutated cat, let alone stop it.

This was going to have to be hand-to-hand combat. Well, hand-to-giant-fucking-paw. Damn it. He needed to get to Naya. Now.

The cat lunged again and Ronan crouched low, the dagger held firm in his grip. “You aren’t the only one with fangs, you big bastard,” he goaded. “So quit posturing and do something!”

In a single graceful leap, it attacked. Rather than dodge the tackle, Ronan met it head-on, the dagger poised to stab. The blade slid between the cat’s ribs, buried to the hilt. Its scream echoed in the night as they fell to the ground, breaking tree limbs and smashing bushes as they rolled down the embankment. Their downhill progress was stayed by a large boulder, and they crashed into it in a crunch of tangled limbs.

The jaguar was stunned and even Ronan was a little slow to move. A large branch jutted out from his right pec and the scent of blood was thick in the air. He might have been quick to heal, but he hurt like a sonofabitch. He wrapped his hand around the branch and yanked. “Motherfucker!” Ronan’s shout echoed around him and he panted through the pain as the wound began to close on its own. He rolled over, the bloodied dagger discarded a few feet beside him, and scooped it up.