Viper Game

  I don't see or hear anything at all, Ezekiel said, but the dog is getting harder to control. I think we're going to have to get out of here for tonight and rethink our plan of reading to that man from the good book.

  That wasn't happening. You go on ahead and I'll meet you at the pirogue.

  Wyatt stared hard at the man who had shoved his grandmother into the swamp. He'd patted her down and pushed her. She could easily have broken a hip, and the guard had known it but hadn't cared.

  The guard brought the dog twice up to one of the gates and stood waiting, as if he'd receive a signal to let the animal loose. The dog barked, baring its teeth, looking out behind Malichai.

  He's feeling something I can't, Ezekiel said.

  Fall back, Wyatt told them. He's goin' to come out and investigate.

  Not alone, he's not, Malichai said.

  As the guard opened the gate, two other guards ran up to join him. Neither of the others had a dog, but they were heavily armed. They came outside the fence and immediately spread out, keeping about five feet apart as they moved toward the grove of trees where Wyatt and the Fortunes brothers had taken up residence.

  That dog has the scent of something, Ezekiel said. And it isn't us.

  Wyatt inhaled deeply, taking in the odors of the night. Jasmine hung heavy in the air, mixing with the smell of the swamp, the moss hanging in ropes from the cypress groves and the mix of wild flowers. The pharmaceutical field had its own perfume from hundreds of varieties of herbs and flowering plants, some poisonous, some not, but all with their individual scents.

  He caught the odor of the alligator. A bobcat lurked close. Somewhere a little farther off was a small herd of deer. Raccoons caught fish near the riverbank and a family of opossum trailed through the vegetation seeking dinner. Nutrias, originally from South America, traveled in a small group as well, wandering around destroying the plants as they devoured the stems and roots.

  The wind shifted just a fraction and he caught the same scent the dog had. Elusive. Beckoning. Mysterious. Impossible to identify, but there. It made every hair on his body stand up. His heart beat faster and blood ran hot through his veins. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades as if someone had a scope and a rifle with their centers on him.

  The dog burst from the gate and, slipping its collar, sprang away from his handler, rushing across the clearing and low-level plants straight into the cypress grove. He made no noise at all, but he moved fast with purpose. His handler raced after him, calling his name, clearly alarmed at the dog being off the leash. What was out there that might harm his dog? The other two men moved much more cautiously, exchanging a quick signal with one another before they followed into the grove, maintaining a five-foot spread from one another.

  Wyatt ran lightly along a heavy branch that nearly touched another tree next to the one he was in. He leapt for the tree, landing lightly and quickly moving to the next. He used the branches as a highway above the swamp, following the three guards. He knew their exact positions but he couldn't always see them through the thick vines and foliage.

  Someone shouted - the dog handler, he was certain. The guard fired his gun in short bursts. The dog yelped. In the distance, through the tree branches, Wyatt caught a glimpse of something moving fast - too fast for anything human. It was small, no more than a foot or so tall. It ran, zigzagging as the guard fired at it.

  Movement drew Wyatt's gaze back to the guard as something hit the dog handler hard in the back, knocking him forward and down. For a moment, Wyatt thought he might actually be catching his first glimpse of the Rougarou - shapeshifter of the bayous and swamps - but this was no tall creature with a wolf's head. It was small in comparison to the guard, but not tiny like the first creature. He was fairly certain whoever had struck the guard was human.

  He moved carefully, knowing he would draw fire from the other guards if they spotted him in the trees. By the time he was able to see again, whoever it was had smashed the guard's gun into pieces against the trunk of a tree. The dog hurled itself on the smaller figure, driving it to the ground. Animal and human rolled for a moment and then, to his astonishment, the dog went flying backward with such force that when it landed, the blow was strong enough to knock the wind from the animal.

  Whatever it was that had attacked the guard ran in the direction of the much smaller creature, just as fast, with blurring speed, leaping over fallen logs and yet never once running into an obstacle in spite of the speed.

  The other two guards laid down fire, spraying the swamp with bullets, but none appeared to strike their target. The two small creatures, one no more than a foot and a half tall and the other maybe hitting five feet or an inch or two above, ran through the dense vegetation without hesitation or a hitch in their strides.

  None of the guards gave chase, and that was significant as well. The guards, as armed and as well trained as they were, didn't want to follow the two figures into the swamp at night. They were afraid.

  One of the guards reached down to help the dog handler from the ground. He immediately rushed over to kneel by the dog.

  "Is he alive, Larry?"

  "Yeah." The dog handler sounded grim. "She didn't kill him, but his rib might be cracked. We were lucky."

  "You shouldn't have let him loose, Larry."

  "Go to hell, Blake, he slipped his leash." The dog handler gathered the animal into his arms and lifted him gently.

  Wyatt liked him better for that. Still, the man was due a good beating, and he wasn't getting out of that.

  "Gentlemen, put down your guns," he advised softly. "I'm only goin' to tell you once. If you don' comply, I'll shoot you in the leg. If you still don' comply, it will be the other leg. We'll just keep goin' until you run out of blood or I run out of bullets."

  "Don't you worry, my friend," Malichai said, his voice coming out of the night low and purring. "I've got enough ammo to keep on shooting long after you're out."

  "And then I'll start," Ezekiel added.

  Surrounded, the guards put their weapons on the ground, stepped back away from them and linked their fingers behind their heads.

  "You're making a mistake," the one named Blake said.

  "No, I think you're the ones who made the mistake." Wyatt leapt from the tree, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet, right beside Blake's gun. He tossed it up into the tree where Ezekiel was concealed and then threw the second one to him as well.

  "Put the dog down. I don' want to hurt an animal, so if he's protective of you, leash him and hand the leash to one of your friends. They can just make themselves comfortable while you and I settle our score." Wyatt pinned the other two with a serious gaze. "Don' make the mistake of thinkin' you can go for your holdout guns or your other weapons. I know you have 'em and I just plain don' give a damn. That's how angry you've made me. So know my two friends will shoot you down the moment you make one wrong move."

  Larry set the dog near the third guard, clearly not trusting Blake. He snapped the leash back on him and handed the end to his friend. "Don't let him loose, Jim," he cautioned, and then turned slowly. "Who the hell are you and why do you have such a hard-on for me?"

  "You know that sweet old lady you thought you'd shove into the swamp? The one you threatened? The one you told you'd come by her home and take care of her?" Deliberately, and making a show of it, Wyatt placed his gun a distance from them and walked within feet of Larry. "That's my grand-mere, and I don' take to anyone threatenin' her or puttin' hands on her."

  "It wasn't personal," Larry said with a small shrug. "I was doing my job. We don't want anyone coming around, not only for our protection but theirs as well."

  "It's very personal to me," Wyatt said. "So let's get to this."

  "You swamp rats are all alike. We go to that shack you call a club and everyone wants to fight us to prove what men you are," Larry accused, shaking his head.

  The other two guards laughed. "This ought to be fun."

  "No, we're not alike," Wyatt said quietly.
"That's where you're wrong. The boys at the Huracan are out for fun and they were invitin' you to join in. No animosity and nothin' to prove, just a good Saturday night bataille. Me, I'm dead serious about teachin' you some manners, there's no funnin' in my mind at all. Swamp rats know how to treat women, and apparently you need to learn that lesson."

  "You're going to be one sorry rat," Larry said, and circled Wyatt, his hands coming up in the classic boxer's stance. "I'm so sick of all of you, thinking you're so tough just because you grew up around alligators. I'll bet that's what they call you around these parts - Gator." He said the name in a sneering taunt.

  "No, that would be my brother, and you should be damn glad he's not here. He wouldn' be quite so gentle as I'm goin' to be." Wyatt nodded at the man's boot. "If you think you're goin' to make your try for that holdout gun, all bets are off."

  Larry scowled at him. "I won't need a gun for this." He stepped in close and fired off three rapid punches at Wyatt's face.

  Wyatt blocked all three, and delivered a hard right to the man's belly, punching deep, driving the air from his lungs and letting him know it was a punishment, not a dance. The breath exploded out of Larry and he stumbled back, doubling over. Wyatt slammed an elbow on his back, driving him straight to the ground. He stepped back.

  "The thing you should know comin' into a neighborhood, Larry," he said, his voice gentle, as if he was a mother instructing a child, "you treat the people decent. That's all, just decent. And you don' ever put your hands on old ladies or any woman for that matter. It just isn' done."

  Larry got to his feet slowly, this time looking at Wyatt warily. His two friends stopped laughing, watching as he staggered a little. All traces of amusement and contempt were gone from Larry's face.

  Wyatt let him get his feet under him and set himself back in his warrior's stance. He exploded into action, gliding in, hitting Larry hard with two straight rights to the left eye, both shockingly hard, knocking Larry's head back rapidly. The third punch was a left roundhouse to the jaw. Larry's body shuddered. His legs turned to rubber and he went down. Wyatt stepped back a second time. He wasn't even breathing hard and he hadn't broken a sweat.

  "You might want to drop by Grand-mere's house and apologize. She's hell on wheels with a gun, but if you come by all sorry, with your tail tucked between your legs, she'll feed you and forgive you, because that's what we do here." The soft voice changed. "Get up. We're not nearly finished."

  Larry rolled over and stared up at the night sky. "You hit like a damn jackhammer." His left eye was already swollen shut. "I've never been punched that hard in my life. I didn't know anyone could hit that hard."

  "Swamp rats learn how to punch on the way outa their mama's womb. Stand up. And for the record, I'm takin' it easy on you."

  Larry held up his hand. "I'm done, man. I get it. I'll apologize. The place was crazy that day and she was just in the way."

  Wyatt reached down and yanked him off the ground with one hand as he struck three more times in the mouth with the other. He dragged Larry close to him, looking eye to eye. "This is our land. You don' own anythin' beyond that fence. Those acres of plants belong to the people of the bayou. We use them for medicine. You don' come onto our land and dictate to us when we can harvest them. She wasn' in your way. You were in her way."

  Wyatt released Larry's shirt and the man dropped again to ground. The earth beneath them shivered. It was a small tremor, but it was there, indicating Wyatt's temper was rising, not diminishing.

  "Wyatt, don't get all crazy on us," Malichai warned. "You don't want to bring their house down."

  "I want Nonny's knife. That knife is important to her, you thief."

  Larry rolled over, glaring with his one good eye. Blood bubbled around his split lip and inside his mouth. "You want her knife?" He yanked the knife from his boot and stood up, staggering a little. "Come and get it."

  "Oh, now that's just downright stupid," Wyatt said softly. "Real stupid. How do you think we killed the food we ate? Do you really think we had the money for bullets? I cut my teeth on knives, killin' game, fightin' with my friends and protectin' our property. You really don' learn, do you? That's called bein' too stupid to live. You don' choose a man's weapon and then expect to live through the fight."

  Wyatt circled Larry, watching his eyes. He definitely couldn't see out of his left eye, so he moved to Larry's left, forcing him to turn to keep him in sight at all times. The man spit blood out several times, and twice he looked as if he might fall, but he didn't drop the knife.

  Wyatt moved in with blinding speed, for the first time using his enhanced cat reflexes. He caught the man's wrist in a brutal grip, controlling the knife as he stepped back behind Larry, taking the arm with him. Larry went flying down, screaming at the pressure on his arm. Wyatt held him there, removed the knife from his hand and slipped it into his own boot and then casually stuck the boot in Larry's throat.

  "You're damn lucky I don' break your arm. This is me not bein' angry. You don' want to ever make me come for you again because I won't spank you sweetly like I've done. I'll shove a knife down your throat and toss your body to the gators. I expect you'll be by to tell Grand-mere how bad you feel for shovin' her into the swamp."

  There was no let up on the arm at all. Wyatt made it clear that he could break the bone at any time. The pressure on the throat remained just as steady. "Our people will be here to replant the plants you trampled on. You aren' goin' to give them trouble. Not you and not any of your friends. I don' really give a damn what you're doin' behind that fence, but you don' get to come onto our land and treat anyone like you own it all. Do we have an understandin'?"

  "I think we do," Blake said. "Let him up."

  "I need him to say it," Wyatt said quietly. "It's been a long day and I'm damn tired. Get it done or I'll end it for you."

  "I understand," Larry bit out between his teeth.

  Wyatt released him immediately and stepped back. He moved into the shadows of the trees, keeping his gaze on all three men.

  Blake and Jim hurried over to Larry to help him stand. The dog remained standing, not looking toward Wyatt or the two men concealed in the trees. Wyatt knew that meant Ezekiel had control of the animal.

  "Our guns?" Jim asked quietly.

  "We'll leave them for you outside the gate," Wyatt replied. "We wouldn't want anyone to lose his temper and do somethin' stupid. It seems you don' have any more sense than you do manners."

  Blake shot him a look that said he'd be more than happy to lose his temper, but all three men turned back toward the compound, Larry between the other two.

  Wyatt waited until they were all the way inside with the gate closed before he moved.

  "That was you being nice," Malichai said. "Impressive. You didn't even break a sweat."

  "We grew up fightin' in the bayou, no rules, just gettin' it done," Wyatt said. "What idiot would pull a knife on me?"

  Malichai leapt from the tree and landed easily on the balls of his feet. "Not me, bayou badass. I'm all for going back home and seeing what Grand-mere has left on the stove. Watching you expend all that energy just helped me work up an appetite."

  "Not quite yet," Wyatt said. "I think we need to figure out just what spooked those boys tonight."

  "Grand-mere's Rougarou, is my guess," Ezekiel said as he jumped from the tree. "Those guards were scared. All three of them. And the dog too."

  "I wonder why. They were armed to the teeth," Wyatt mused, looking toward the swamp where the fast-moving figure had disappeared.

  "Does the Rougarou have babies?" Malichai asked. "Because there was a little scary thing running faster than possible and disappearing into the swamp. I swear the damned thing glowed."

  "I saw it too," Ezekiel admitted. "But I wasn't going to say anything."

  "At night, the swamp can get you all mixed up," Wyatt admitted.

  His gaze drifted back to the compound and the three men limping their way to the building. He didn't trust them not to come runni
ng back with automatic weapons - but then he wasn't a trusting man.

  "As far back as I can remember, I've heard tales of monsters in the swamps. They say we don' have panthers here, but I've seen 'em. They say a lot of things, but the truth is, no one knows what's true and what's not. I don' believe in the Rougarou, but it was fun as a child to be scared. I think we're chasin' something else, but what it is, I have no idea," Wyatt said with a small shrug.

  He was used to chasing myths in the swamps, and it didn't bother him in the least. Screams and strange noises abounded. Sometimes the swamp went eerily quiet. It didn't matter. It was home to him. He thrived there. Felt alive. The humidity. The heat. The insects. The way of life. It was home. If that included a monster or two, well, that just provided unexpected excitement.

  "The guards are inside," Wyatt announced. "Let's move."

  He was already leading the way, heading toward the spot in the swamp where he'd last seen the blurred images. The three of them cast around for signs and scents of the mysterious intruders.

  "Over here, Wyatt," Ezekiel said. "I've got a partial track, but it looks like a baby's bare footprint. Am I looking at a bear cub? A really small one?"

  Wyatt crouched down to examine the small smear of a footprint in the muddy leaves. He brushed the debris from the track, but there was only a heel mark and what had to be the ball of a foot. But it was tiny. Far too small to be a bear, even a cub.

  "There's blood over here," Malichai informed them. "It's splashed on the leaves and there are a couple of spots on the ground. The guards sprayed bullets over this entire area and they must have hit something."

  "If the guards actually did hit something, the wound didn't slow it down," Wyatt said. "I was watching it run, although it was so fast and smooth, I honestly couldn't see an image, just a blur, but if they were hit, the body didn't even jerk and they didn't miss a step."

  "It's a lot of blood, Wyatt," Malichai said, moving through the brush.

  "It's the adult, not the infant," Ezekiel added.

  Wyatt frowned. Could whatever have been moving that fast be human? He doubted it. They were enhanced, all three of them, with animal DNA, and they could move with blurring speed, but no way could he have caught that entity, not the way it was moving.