"God Has Fangs"
May. 19th, 2022 02:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"God Has Fangs"
8/19/2002
I.
As he left Grand Central and stepped out onto 8th Avenue, Levon Bingham had what he called "a savannah flash." For an instant, the hazy city sky turned a brilliant deep blue with a hot white sun blazing down. The sounds of cars and trucks receded, he felt for a brief moment there was soft yielding grass under his feet. The young black man froze, waiting, and the moment passed. Under his blue work shirt, the Claw of Wakimbe tingled warmly against his skin. Taking a deep breath, Levon started crossing the street with the crowd, lost in thought as usual.
These visions were coming more often recently. So far, they had not been a danger, but he worried what would happen if he had a savannah flash while he was driving. In his mid-twenties, Levon Bingham was stocky and muscular, just medium height. He had very dark skin, with his hair cropped so short it was almost shaven. His features were sensitive and a little sad, and people tended to like him on sight. In the past few months, his irises had gradually turned a bright green, startling in his dark face. Cat's eyes. Today, Levon was wearing new sneakers, blue jeans and a blue work shirt over a plain white T-shirt. He had enjoyed a night off from KDF duties, staying with friends in Queens and sitting up all night watching scary movies while they drank beer and laughed.
Under his shirt, suspended from a finely-linked ensalir chain, a seven-inch black talon hung against his skin. The Claw of Wakimbe was unimaginably old, surviving from an age of the world that archaeologists did not even suspect, the Darthan Age of thirty thousand years ago. Levon was the new Cat's-Claw. He bore the power and the burden that many men had carried before him, the ability to summon the Black Lion Himself. This seldom left his thoughts for long.
As he strode briskly east along 42nd Street, Levon decided he had to tell someone of what was happening to him. Twice, he had begun to lose control of the Black Lion and twice it had been difficult to change back to his normal Human form. How had Kwali managed? From everything he had heard, his predecessor as Cat'-Claw had transformed back and forth at will with no problems. The Link in his back pocket beeped twice. Levon stepped into the doorway of an electronics store and took the small device out. "Hello?"
"Hey, good morning!" sang a voice much too chipper at eight in the morning. "Just wondering if you'll be here for breakfast. If not, I'll eat all your French toast, no problem."
"Hi, Unicorn," Levon answered. "I'm on my way. Save my portions, I'm starving."
"Oh, all right," came the blithe voice. "The bacon will be going fast, you better hustle." With a click, she signed off. Levon shook his head. He wished he had her personality, but he was nothing like Ashley Whitaker. She came from a privileged life where her mother lived in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. Levon had grown up with his grandmother over in Flushing. Now that Grandma was gone, his only family was in West Virginia and he hadn't seen them in years.
Within a few minutes, he was hurrying along East 38th Street and up the stoop of the old ten-story building that was the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Before he could touch the door, buzzers sounded and the locks clicked open. Unicorn's voice sounded from a concealed speaker, "Better hurry, I'm looking at your plate."
With a low chuckle, Levon passed through the tiny foyer and into the front hall. The welcome smell of bacon and coffee, and the chatter of friendly voices came from the kitchen at the far end of that hall. He went past the reception room on one side and the emergency ward on the other, past the wide staircase and the small elevator, and through the door to the kitchen to enter a warm, inviting arena.
There was a dining room on this floor, but the team seldom used it. They preferred the informal crowding on the breakfast nook under twin windows.
Three of his friends were there, already seated and digging in. Sheng Mo-Yuan, known as Argent, had the largest servings piled on his plate. The young Chujiran warrior looked up with his mouth full and nodded at Levon. To his left, Sable Reilly lowered her coffee mug and said, "Hi, Levon. Help yourself, everything's warm." And on the other side of the table, wiping a last piece of French toast in the syrup, the tiny blonde known as Unicorn grinned impishly at him. "Just in time to rescue your food, buddy."
"Good to see you guys," he said as he got a plate from the cupboard and shovelled three pieces of French toast, some bacon and scrambled eggs on it. The syrup and butter had been kept warm on the stovetop. He didn't like coffee, so he poured a tumbler of grapefruit juice and brought everything over to the table. Levon seated himself and started eating as he suddenly realized just how empty his stomach was.
Sable nibbled on a strip of bacon. Team leader now that Jeremy Bane had stepped down, she watched her crew thoughtfully. Sable was pretty in an understated way, with glossy black hair combed straight back from a high forehead, huge dark eyes and full lips. She wasn't really aware of her looks, her mind was always so serious and responsible. As she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, she said, "I think we have a case for today. Only the four of us are available. Josef has taken three days leave to accept a bodyguard commission and Megan is reporting to her Trom superiors out in New Mexico. They'll join us when they can."
Standing up to bring his plate and silverware over to the sink, Argent asked, "What's on the agenda, captain?" Sheng looked like a Northern Chinese, but he was actually from the realm of Chujir. His hawklike nose and prominent cheekbones gave this away to those who knew about the adjacent realms. In his tan T-shirt and khaki slacks, the slim muscular body was accented. He rinsed off his plate and left it in a basin of soapy water to return to the table. "Something big?"
"I'm not sure yet," Sable answered. She poured more coffee into her cup and sipped it black. "I was told of recruitment of drivers and shooters in the underworld. And our observer got a glimpse of a man with a fixed grin on his face."
Unicorn looked up, suddenly serious. "A grinning man? You think it's Sepulcher?"
"That's what we need to find out," Sable answered. "In an hour, I want everyone reporting up by the CORBY. If Sepulcher is active again, it means a massacre is being planned."
II.
Levon went to his rooms on the third floor. They weren't luxurious but they were comfortable. A solid double bed, a desk, a dresser with a big mirror, some chairs. He had his own bathroom for the first time in his life. Stripping down, the Cat's-Claw drew what looked like a bodysuit of dark silk from where it hung on his closet door and tugged it on with reluctance. More and more, it felt wrong to be wearing the Trom armor, it seemed to suffocate him. Lately, he had felt more comfortable the less he wore, as if he breathed through his skin. Sable had told the team to wear civilian clothes and bring their field suits with them in case they were needed. Levon picked up the heavy leather suitcase from the bottom of the closet and placed it on his bed. Why did he bother with this? If there was trouble, all he needed was the Claw of Wakimbe which hung around his neck.
Getting more and more unhappy, Levon put his clothes back on, got a short denim jacket and loaded its hidden pockets with the gadgets and weapons developed for the KDF. The anesthetic dart gun was holstered in the small of his back, where the jacket would hide it. As he pulled the denim jacket on, he struggled not to rip it off and fling it across the room. This was wrong. It felt more wrong every day.
Sighing deeply, Cat's-Claw adjusted the jacket and opened the door to find Sable coming down the hall from her own quarters. She wore a pants suit of dark blue, with a white open-neck blouse and a thin gold necklace. He knew that her professional-looking outfit has as many if not more concealed weapons as his own clothes did, and that she was also wearing the flexible Trom armor under her clothing. As she saw him, Sable stopped short and tilted her head.
"I never saw more unhappy body language," she told him. "Levon, talk to me."
"Sable.. I'm changing. You must see it. The Claw is changing me body and mind. I don't know how much longer I can stay here like this." He almost sobbed with repressed emotion. "Maybe I need to stay in Danarak. When I trained under their wise men for that week, I suddenly felt at home. I.. I don't know what's happening to me."
She stepped closer, with a friendly half-smile. "We knew this might happen. That's a powerful talisman you're wearing, my friend. Kwali had years of training, and you are just relying on your own will power."
"I will NOT give it up," he insisted. "It came to me. When a dozen trackers were searching for it, the Claw came to me."
"I know," she said. "I mean it, I think that Claw came into your possession for a reason. I think things happen in life for reasons we can't see. Tell you what. After this case, we will arrange for you to have indefinite leave. Stay with the Bakwanga. Study under their Elders. When you are ready, come back. Your place on our team will always be there."
"Now I feel better. Thanks, Sable. I felt like no one knew what I'm going through.."
"Hey!" rang out a blithe voice from down the hall. "Whatever you guys are schmoozing about, Argent's got the CORBY warmed up. Let's get going sometime this year, okay?" Unicorn was lugging the suitcase which held her field suit in both hands.
"Ashley...." grumbled Sable as she tapped Levon on the shoulder and they went to join her. All three crowded into the small elevator which took them to the ninth floor. From there, they went up steep concrete steps to the hangar. A sleek black helicopter took up most of the floor space here. Its rotors turned very slowly. Sheng Mo-Yuan dropped down from the hatch by the pilot's seat and waved to them.
"Everything is nominal," he announced. "We can have wheels up in two minutes." The Chujiran had changed into dark jeans, sneakers and a green polo shirt. He wore a black windbreaker which concealed the various gadgets they all carried. Argent stepped over and slid open the cargo hatch, where he and Sable had already stowed their suitcases. As Unicorn and Cat's-Claw secured their gear, Sheng fastened the hatch again and grinned. "Only one suitcase, Ashley?"
"Hah hah, hilarity reigns," she said. "I stuck some luggage in there earlier just in case. Sable, you flying?"
"Yes. Levon, take co-pilot seat. Ashley and Sheng, belt yourselves in on the bench." Sable swung up into the cockpit, fastened the restraint straps across her chest, waist and calves, then inspected the array of pastel green and blue lights that surrounded her. Satisfied, she thumbed the button that made the huge roof panel open up. Daylight flooded the hangar. Sable pulled back on the stick, the CORBY rose up a few feet off the floor and the landing gear retracted.
"Levon, check for air traffic in the area," she said as the CORBY started to ascend through the roof panel.
"Nothing within two miles. There's a TV news copter up by Central Park," Cat's-Claw said after checking the Trom sensors. "Good to go, captain."
From the rear compartment, separated by a clear plastic partition from the cockpit, Ashley Whitaker said, "Someday nice men from the FAA are going to show up at our door."
"Settle down, Unicorn," answered Sable. She brought them straight up to five thousand feet faster than a missile would have gone, up out of sight in a flash. The Trom-built CORBY was not really a helicopter but just
a craft which was made to look like one. Nothing that depended on rotors for lift and thrust could have performed as the CORBYs did. "Heading north by north-east at cruising speed."
III.
Near the rocky coast, Sable decelerated and dropped quickly enough that everyone grabbed something to hold onto. They were miles from the nearest village and sparse forest passed beneath them with only an occasional house here and there. She slowed the CORBY and said, "That looks like Longendyke's place."
Peering down through the windscreen, Levon spoke for the first time in a half hour. "Have you ever met this man, captain?"
"No, never. Jeremy saved him years ago from Golgora. Byron Longendyke was grateful enough that he has reported anything weird or inexplicable to us ever since." Sable slowed to hover at treetop level. They were over an estate of more than two hundred acres, with an access road running along its perimeter. Up ahead was a mansion and a smaller structure and she lowered the CORBY to a gentle landing near a cluster of white birch trees. "Jeremy's network of observers has led us to many of our most important cases."
"I don't see anything going on in that house," Unicorn chipped in from the rear. "No cars in sight."
"No," Sable answered in a low tone. She slowed the rotors to a halt and began to shut down the CORBY's functions. "I think we are too late."
No one asked what she meant. They knew her gralic powers of enhanced perception gave her vision sharper than a telescope, and they were used to her seeing items from miles away. As Sable sealed the CORBY, Argent finally spoke up, "Captain, what are we getting into?"
"I believe Sepulcher has already been here," she answered. "A body is lying next to the house and two of the windows are broken from the outside." Sable started off at a brisk walk and her team followed.
They approached a three story stone building from its rear, everyone alert and ready. As he walked over the neatly tended lawn, Levon again felt the overwhelming urge to kick off his boots and race barefoot through the grass. It took conscious effort to remain calm and walk along with the others. Longendyke's mansion had a detached garage, and its sliding doors were up to reveal no cars within. Now the others spotted what Sable had seen from hundreds of feet away. Stretched out at the rear of the mansion, near the heating oil tank by the basement door, was a corpse.
"Fill us in, Sable," Argent demanded suddenly. "You've already picked up a thousand details."
As they walked up to the body, their captain said, "He matches the description in our files of Byron Longendyke. Cause of death is apparently a single gunshot wound to the side of the head, entering on the right temple. He is fully dressed, and he was standing motionless when he was killed." Standing over the corpse of a stout middle-aged man in black slacks and a light tan dress shirt, Sable did not kneel to examine it. "He has been dead less than two hours. Five men were walking around the house. Two cars drove up here, but four left. Sepulcher's men arrived, killed Longendyke and searched his house, then two of them drove off with Longendyke's vehicles." She sniffed almost inaudibly. "Another gunshot occured inside the house. There is a second victim in there."
Two years of working with Lauren Sable Reilly had gotten her teammates used to the way she could enhance all her senses beyond normal Human limits. It still impressed them. Unicorn walked up to one of the broken windows and got up on her toes to peer inside. "Nothing in this room," she said.
"No. The second body is at the front door. I know Sepulcher's method of operating. Even when he kills for minor reasons, he brings a few of his men to carry off any loot. Jewelry, electronic devices, paintings, anything valuable has been taken from this voice. Longendyke's cars are on their way to a chop shop where they will be repainted and sold on the underground market." Sable started walking around to the front of the house. Argent paused by the corpse and tried to spot footprints but couldn't detect any. The bullet hole in Longendyke's head was tiny, he observed, almost too small to seem fatal.
At the front of the house, on a patio of large flat stones with redwood table and chairs, they found the second body. It was a woman in her late forties, good-looking in a subdued way with long black hair. She was lying on the patio, propped up against the outside of the mansion. A tiny hole above one eye showed how she had died. "This would be Longendyke's companion, Anna Prosser," Sable said. "She was not expecting to be killed. Her posture shows she was taken by surprise."
Crouching over the dead woman, Ashley Whitaker adjusted the leather case across her own back so she could kneel and study the body. The little blonde was not visibly uncomfortable at being so close to a corpse. She had been raised from childhood by her mother to be the second Unicorn and she was used to gruesome sights. "That's an awful small entry wound, you know. Maybe .18 caliber? What's the deal?"
"It's a Sepulcher trademark," Sable answered. "Come on, everyone, back to the CORBY. We haven't left any sign we were here." She turned on her heel and strode quickly back toward the rear of the house. Her three teammates followed, but Sheng asked, "Are we going to notify the police or not?"
"Not yet," Sable answered. She was almost running as they approached the CORBY. "Unicorn, take the stick. I'm going to be following the trail and I need to concentrate." Unlocking the hatches with a signal from her Link, she swung up into the co-pilot seat. "Let's go, guys." In a few seconds, they had strapped themselves in. The CORBY was still warmed up, and they lifted off the ground in less than a minute.
At the controls, Ashley brought the stealth copter up to treetop level. She was the best pilot on the team because she had taken lessons under her mother before joining. The CORBY was so much easier to fly than a regular helicopter that she described it as "letting the bird do what it wants." Now she brought the craft up and hovered, waiting for instructions.
In the co-pilot seat, Sable leaned forward to stare down through the windscreen. "Bring us over the patio, Ashley. Good. Okay, I can see the tire tracks. The two cars from the garage don't concern us right now. There. I see the tracks left by a van. That would be where Sepulcher was carrying the loot. All right, Ashley, rise up a few hundred feet and follow the access road south."
In the rear compartment, Sheng Mo-Yuan shook his head. "It's still hard to believe. From this high up, you can see the microscopic rubber particles left on the road and follow them..."
Sable shrugged. "You have your gifts and I have mine," she said absently. "We each bring something to the team. You can go a little faster, Ashley. This road doesn't branch off for miles. With luck, we will be able to track Sepulcher down while he's still gloating."
IV.
Finally, Sable instructed Ashley to bring the CORBY up high enough that it couldn't possibly be seen from the ground even if someone had been looking forward. "That farmhouse with the barn and the barbecue pit. I'm more than fifty per cent sure that's our target, but the tire tracks have become so faded I can't be absolutely certain. So we need to investigate."
Ashley glanced over from the pilot's seat. "Can't you just listen to what they're saying, Sable?"
"Not from up here. Too much air turbulence. We have to use stealth and approach the building to get a positive ID. Here's the plan. We disembark a few miles back and separate, sneaking in as close as we can get. I will signal you two on your Links when I'm sure this is the right place. Sheng and Levon, I want you two nearby but separate to keep any of the gang from scattering."
"Hey!" Ashley squeaked, "What about me?"
"You will keep the CORBY in the air for rescue or assault. Sepulcher has never shown any gralic powers, so your specialty won't be needed. Unicorn, you stay in the copter," Sable said with finality.
"Well, that sucks. Now I'm the taxi driver..." The little blonde's pout was wasted on Sable. The team leader directed Unicorn to back two miles and landed in a clearing where they could not be seen from the road. As they climbed out of the CORBY, its rotors still turning lazily, Sable fetched her suitcase from the rear storage hatch. By now, none of the members had any modesty left. They had changed in front of each other many times, been stripped as prisoners and had become jaded about seeing each other. Lauren Sable Reilly was a good-looking young woman but both Levon and Sheng had reached a point where they regarded her without lascivious intent. Getting down to the suit of flexible Trom armor, she quickly tugged on the snug black pants, crewneck shirt and heavy boots, all flat black. The waist-length jacket with its own inner layer of the armor went on next. As she raised her helmet, Sable paused. "Aren't you two getting in your field suits?"
Argent made a scoffing noise. "I don't think it's necessary. These are just thugs with guns. I can become more impervious than the armor when I want to, and I can move quicker with that field suit. You can reach me on my Link."
"Levon?"
The young black man hesitated, then blurted out, "I feel the same. All those devices and tricks are not ME. I am the Cat's-Claw and I am better off being natural. Kwali fought in just cotton stalking tights."
Sable gave them both a sour look. "All right. You two are big boys and can make your own decisions. I just hope you're not underestimating these gangsters." She lowered the helmet over her own head, sealed it to the high collar of her jacket and slid the visor down. Her voice came from a speak into the jawbar, clear and natural-sounding. "Let's separate and sneak up on them. Unicorn, bring the CORBY up a few hundred feet and stand by. If we need you, we'll need you in a hurry."
"Understood, captain," the blonde answered as she climbed back in the cockpit and sealed the hatches. The black stealthcopter rose up with almost complete silence. There was just the whisper of a wind passing by. In a few seconds, the CORBY was out of sight. Argent and Cat's-Claw rushed to opposite sides of the road and likewise vanished within a blink.
Left standing in the dusty road under a hot August sun, Sable activated her suit's regulatory mechanisms and was immediately dry, cool and comfortable. She started heading down toward the farmhouse two miles away, giving her team-mates time to pull ahead. Then she stepped off the road into the woods and quickened her pace.
Racing through the forest, Sheng Mo-Yuan rejoiced in being young and athletic. Back in Chujir, he had studied under Sifu Tang Ming, learning much of the mysterious Fang Lung style. He had thought back then he was an unprecedented fighter, but then two years learning from Teacher Chael at Tel Shai had humbled him again. He knew now that no one lived long enough to learn more than a fraction of what the fighting arts had to offer. 'The further you travel, the further you are from the end' was Chael's enigmatic motto and Sheng was beginning to understand.
With his innate ability to shift gralic energy into his body, Sheng could become faster than normal or stronger or more resilient.. but only one aspect at a time. Even without training, this power would make him a dangerous adversary. Judging that he was nearing the farmhouse they had seen from the air, Sheng slowed and began moving more carefully.
Half a mile away, on the other side of the road, Levon Bingham couldn't stand it any longer. He came to a stop and tore off his clothing as if it was on fire. The silk-thin Trom armor seemed to be choking him. Opening it along its paramagnetic inner seals, he folded the armor into a neat bundle that could be held in one hand and concealed it beneath a round rock at the base of a birch tree. He hesiated. KDF policy dictated that he carry the various gimmicks on him but he could not bear to put those clothes back on again. He was wearing only a pair of khaki boxer shorts.
A cool breeze tickled his skin. The past two years of Tel Shai training had reduced his body fat nearly to zero, and his long wiry muscles stood out vividly. Around his neck, the black talon swung on its ensalir chain and Levon grasped it with a sudden grin. Now he felt free. This was how he was meant to live. It was all so clear. He clenched his fists and threw his head back and stopped himself just before he would have let out a roar to challenge any enemy within sound.
Levon folded his clothes and hid them carefully as well. After a long pause, he grudgingly took the Link and thrust it into the pocket of his shorts. Discarding that would lead to more inconvenience than carrying it would cause. Barefoot and jubilant, he took off through the woods at a full run. Soon, he was leaning so far forward that his hands grazed the ground, and he looked more catlike than ever.
V.
Inside the barn, gunmen were busy. Standing with folded arms, Sepulcher watched intently as two of his men tied down the bigscreen TV inside his van. Killing that Longendyke fool had turned out to be profitable enough. The man had been a writer of popular historical novels and his house had held some expensive video equipment. The wife had been fond of jewelry as well. This van was bound for a series of stops at various criminal fences and hock shops he had agreements with.
Three of his hired thugs watched him the way they would watch a copperhead that had come into the barn. He insisted that men who worked for him dressed professionally. They all wore suits and dress shirts, although he let them go without neckties. His rationale was that police would unconsciously treat well-dressed men with more respect if there was interaction.
Sepulchre himself was all in white. Deck shoes, lightweight trousers, a button-front shirt and a windbreaker even in this muggy summer weather. He was just under six feet tall, starved-looking, quick and alert. The hideous grin which divided his lower face was permanent. When he had been given that botched lethal injection in the Texas prison a year earlier, he had been declared dead but had somehow stirred and taken breath again eight minutes later. The muscles of his face were frozen in a leering smile, his weight had dropped even as his muscular strength had increased. He slept very little and ate without enjoyment just to stay alive.
It was his mind that had changed the most.
While recovering in the prison infirmary, new DNA evidence had been presented that proved he had indeed been innocent of the rape and murder of the young girl, as he had always insisted. The state had executed an innocent man, and it was only through his inexplicable survival that it had not been a bigger scandal. Released with profuse apologies, the man who would call himself Sepulchre had also been presented with generous financial compensation. He had immediately used this small fortune to start hiring gunmen and starting a reign of terror like no other.
Sepulcher killed at frequent intervals, often picking victims at random. Some of his murders were designed for loot. He had boarded a yacht full of recording studio executives just outside the three mile limit, he had rigged a Cessna to crash with two heart surgeons on board, and he had taken everything that had any resale value. He struck twice, maybe three times, before relocating in a different part of the country and so far the FBI and the police had gotten nowhere trying to catch him.
As his lieutenant closed and locked the rear of the van, Sepulcher walked over toward him. Nestor Torres was about fifty, a beefy man with badly acne-scarred skin and a drooping mustache. He turned and nodded at his employer. "Ready to go, boss."
"Torres..." said Sepulcher in his sad, gentle voice. "I saw you." He plunged one bony hand out and dug in the breast pocket of his henchman's jacket to come out with a pearl necklace. The grinning man held up the necklace so the watching thugs could all see it.
"I give you men much leeway, but what rules there are must be obeyed." The grinning man's face never changed expression. The contrast between the smiling mouth and angry deepset eyes was unnerving. "Torres. Really. You are paid well enough."
"Listen, boss, it was for my daughter. She's gonna be going to college in a month-"
"You won't be there to see her off," Sepulcher told him sorrowfully. The grinning man suddenly had a tiny metal tube in his hand and it blasted a flash of white light as it fired. The small bullet did not have much force behind its impact, but at point-blank range into an eye, it didn't need much. Nestor Torres made a choking noise and fell over backwards. His bloodied head bounced once as it hit the hard-packed earth inside the barn.
Watching, the rest of the thugs struggled not to react. They felt their own lives hung by a frayed thread. Sepulcher's dark eyes moved critically over them. He reloaded the handcrafted derringer and tucked it into its shallow pocket in his sleeve. He carried several of the tiny weapons on him, in different places according to circumstances. Twice, he had killed State Troopers even as they were searching him. "He knew better than to do that. Kortwright, Schupp... bury him behind the house. We will be leaving here tomorrow anyway."
Everyone gasped and wheeled around as they became aware of a stranger. Standing just outside the open barn door was a young black man, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts. He stood, relaxed and confident, with his hands down at his sides. In an instant, he was covered by five different handguns in the grip of experienced killers.
"You will never understand," the young man said in ringing tones. "You see your God as an old man with a long white beard, sitting in the clouds. I tell you, God has fangs! God has black fur and green eyes and claws that rip his prey apart!"
Sepulcher unexpectedly chuckled. "This lad is high. What kind of drugs do kids take these days? It's too bad you happened to see this, son."
Levon Bingham did not move as the grinning man approached him. He seemed unaware of being in imminent danger of being killed. "You deny yourself contact with the soil and the air and the sunlight," he went on. "I see how you close yourselves off."
"That'll be enough of that talk," Sepulcher interrupted him. He stopped just out of reach and shook his head. "How often the innocent have to die. But then, I was innocent! I've been dead, my boy, it's not so bad. Death is but a dream."
Levon smiled, his green eyes bright as they caught the light. "You are in for a revelation, smiling man. You will meet the Black Lion. My God has fangs and claws and the taste of hot blood is all the worship he craves-"
"Oh, enough of this nonsense," Sepulcher muttered. His hands snapped out and a derringer in each one barked sharply. Levon caught those bullets in the pit of his stomach, he gasped and doubled up. The muzzles had almost been touching his skin. Going into shock, the Cat's Claw fell to his hands and knees with his head drooping.
Reloading his tiny trick guns, the grinning man bent over and pressed them to the side of his victim's head. Then he stopped short as he noticed something odd. On a fine chain around this kid's neck was suspended a shiny black claw seven inches long.. and steam had started rising from it somehow.
On his hands and knees, head hanging down, Levon Bingham abruptly shuddered and swelled up, changing in a breath into a huge cat bigger than a horse. The creature's thickly-maned head touched the top of the barn door. Rearing up, the Black Lion blasted out a challenging roar that echoed from the hills outside and filled the barn like thunder.
The thugs began firing, their gunflashes bright in the gloom. Each bullet depressed the Black Lion's glossy hide slightly but did not penetrate or cause any pain. Without crouching, the gigantic beast leaped forward...
VI.
The man in the dark blue suit was thirty yards away, facing the opposite direction with a Marlin hunting rifle propped up against an outcropping. He was watching the road and Sable had crept up toward him with caution. Crouching down behind a pine tree, Sable took aim with her dart gun and fired. The barely audible cough of compressed air was immediately followed by the guard grunting and slapping the nape of his neck at the sudden pain. The darts hurt when they jabbed home, and the unexpected pain usually distracted the victim until the potent drug kicked in a second or two later. At once, the man was foggy and confused. He sagged, looked around dazedly, and then sank to his knees and stretched out in the dirt.
Holding the dart gun up alongside her head, Sable Reilly straightened up. She had already taken out another sentry the same way, and although it had been time-comsuming, it had been worth it to remove the guard system without detection. Her enhanced senses allowed her to pick up on low human voices further down the road, as well as the odor of an auto exhaust. Concentrating further, Sable decided that Sheng was close as well on the opposite side of the road. Stealthy as he was, he unavoidably made enough noise for her abnormal hearing to catch. Sable made her way further along. There was the farmhouse they had seen from the air, rundown and in need of some repairs. She was approaching from behind, she could see the rear of the barn but not the doorway. The barn had two vehicles alongside it, a gold VW Jetta and a Chevy Silverado. She heard a low sharp cracking noise from the barn, then the buzz of voices. With a start of alarm, Sable recognized one of the voices as Levon's. She moved more quickly toward the scene, her hearing turned him as she began to make out words. Something about "God has fangs."
Two more of those sharp snapping noises. She began to run toward the barn and saw Sheng emerge on the opposite side of the road. Then the deep bestial roar from the barn almost knocked her down. The Black Lion. Her heart sank as she gestured for Argent to come over and join her. The growling and screams and hideous crunching noises obscured the sound of the Jetta starting up and tearing off down the road. Sable dreaded what she would find. With Argent next to her, she peered around the corner of the red-painted barn and stared inside at the slaughter.
None of the gunmen remained whole, let alone alive. Surrounded by a circle of raw body parts, the Black Lion licked its bloody chops and rumbled deep within its massive body. The thick tail whipped from side to side angrily. As Sable and Argent appeared in the doorway, that huge leonine head swung around and the glowing green eyes narrowed as the Lion saw them. For one awful second, Sable thought the beast was about to pounce on them as well.
"Levon!" she called out sharply. "Stand down. It's over. Stand down."
With a snarl like the lash of a bullwhip, the Black Lion lowered its head, still staring suspiciously at them. Then, as if grudgingly, the huge brute convulsed, shrank and reverted to Human. Levon Bingham got up on his feet and touched his abdomen tentatively. The gunshot wounds were gone, absorbed by the Lion during the transformation. Levon exhaled violently and shook his head. "Sable.. Argent.."
"It's okay, Levon." Sable had holstered her dart gun and raised the visor on her helmet. "These men were all hardened murderers."
"Say, where are your clothes?" asked Sheng.
"I..I left them behind," Levon answered. "I couldn't stand wearing them any longer. Sable, I must leave the team. It is time I go to Danarak and learn how to control this power. It was difficult to change back. I felt the Black Lion resist me, I had to struggle to become me again." His hands were trembling and he clasped them together behind his back. "Even now, the Lion of Wakimbe wants to be unleashed. I will take that leave of absence."
"All right. It's up to you. When we get back to headquarters, you can pack what you need and I'll contact the Bawkwanga elders." Sable unfastened her helmet and tugged it up off her head. "With their training and counsel, you'll be fine."
"I hope so," he admitted. Staring at the slaughter all around him, the Cat's-Claw shivered as if cold. "If the Lion of Wakimbe ever got completely out of control..."
As matter of fact as ever, Sheng Mo-Yuan stepped gingerly over a detached leg to approach his teammates. "Wow. Well, Sable, I suggest we do NOT call the State Police out here so we can answer questions and sign statements for the next two days. What a mess."
"You're right," she said. "We're going to disappear right now and let the troopers figure this out the best they can. With her helmet deactivated, she took the Link from its holster on her belt. "Ashley, come in."
"Yo." The impudent voice was unmistakable. "Zup?"
"Bring the CORBY around. It's over. We're clearing out."
"To hear is to obey, oh Captain," said Unicorn's voice. Sable replaced the Link and turned around as she surveyed the scene. "I don't see any trace of Sepulcher." She moved to the open doorway and looked outside. "The Jetta is gone. Sepulcher must have gotten out of the Lion's way and hopped in the car."
Overhead, the ominous sharklike outline of the CORBY appeared and began to descend at a safe distance. They could see the platinum blonde head of Unicorn in the cockpit as she raised a thumb's-up gesture.
"We can still pursue him," Sheng said. "Get some altitude and search in expanding circles."
Sable did not answer immediately. "No. Getting Levon home comes first. Sepulcher has lost his team and he'll have trouble hiring more. Once the underworld finds out what happened to his hired guns, they won't want to work for him. We'll be able to locate Sepulcher before he can get another scheme underway." She placed a hand on Levon's bare shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. "We take care of our own first."
7/3/2015
8/19/2002
I.
As he left Grand Central and stepped out onto 8th Avenue, Levon Bingham had what he called "a savannah flash." For an instant, the hazy city sky turned a brilliant deep blue with a hot white sun blazing down. The sounds of cars and trucks receded, he felt for a brief moment there was soft yielding grass under his feet. The young black man froze, waiting, and the moment passed. Under his blue work shirt, the Claw of Wakimbe tingled warmly against his skin. Taking a deep breath, Levon started crossing the street with the crowd, lost in thought as usual.
These visions were coming more often recently. So far, they had not been a danger, but he worried what would happen if he had a savannah flash while he was driving. In his mid-twenties, Levon Bingham was stocky and muscular, just medium height. He had very dark skin, with his hair cropped so short it was almost shaven. His features were sensitive and a little sad, and people tended to like him on sight. In the past few months, his irises had gradually turned a bright green, startling in his dark face. Cat's eyes. Today, Levon was wearing new sneakers, blue jeans and a blue work shirt over a plain white T-shirt. He had enjoyed a night off from KDF duties, staying with friends in Queens and sitting up all night watching scary movies while they drank beer and laughed.
Under his shirt, suspended from a finely-linked ensalir chain, a seven-inch black talon hung against his skin. The Claw of Wakimbe was unimaginably old, surviving from an age of the world that archaeologists did not even suspect, the Darthan Age of thirty thousand years ago. Levon was the new Cat's-Claw. He bore the power and the burden that many men had carried before him, the ability to summon the Black Lion Himself. This seldom left his thoughts for long.
As he strode briskly east along 42nd Street, Levon decided he had to tell someone of what was happening to him. Twice, he had begun to lose control of the Black Lion and twice it had been difficult to change back to his normal Human form. How had Kwali managed? From everything he had heard, his predecessor as Cat'-Claw had transformed back and forth at will with no problems. The Link in his back pocket beeped twice. Levon stepped into the doorway of an electronics store and took the small device out. "Hello?"
"Hey, good morning!" sang a voice much too chipper at eight in the morning. "Just wondering if you'll be here for breakfast. If not, I'll eat all your French toast, no problem."
"Hi, Unicorn," Levon answered. "I'm on my way. Save my portions, I'm starving."
"Oh, all right," came the blithe voice. "The bacon will be going fast, you better hustle." With a click, she signed off. Levon shook his head. He wished he had her personality, but he was nothing like Ashley Whitaker. She came from a privileged life where her mother lived in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. Levon had grown up with his grandmother over in Flushing. Now that Grandma was gone, his only family was in West Virginia and he hadn't seen them in years.
Within a few minutes, he was hurrying along East 38th Street and up the stoop of the old ten-story building that was the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Before he could touch the door, buzzers sounded and the locks clicked open. Unicorn's voice sounded from a concealed speaker, "Better hurry, I'm looking at your plate."
With a low chuckle, Levon passed through the tiny foyer and into the front hall. The welcome smell of bacon and coffee, and the chatter of friendly voices came from the kitchen at the far end of that hall. He went past the reception room on one side and the emergency ward on the other, past the wide staircase and the small elevator, and through the door to the kitchen to enter a warm, inviting arena.
There was a dining room on this floor, but the team seldom used it. They preferred the informal crowding on the breakfast nook under twin windows.
Three of his friends were there, already seated and digging in. Sheng Mo-Yuan, known as Argent, had the largest servings piled on his plate. The young Chujiran warrior looked up with his mouth full and nodded at Levon. To his left, Sable Reilly lowered her coffee mug and said, "Hi, Levon. Help yourself, everything's warm." And on the other side of the table, wiping a last piece of French toast in the syrup, the tiny blonde known as Unicorn grinned impishly at him. "Just in time to rescue your food, buddy."
"Good to see you guys," he said as he got a plate from the cupboard and shovelled three pieces of French toast, some bacon and scrambled eggs on it. The syrup and butter had been kept warm on the stovetop. He didn't like coffee, so he poured a tumbler of grapefruit juice and brought everything over to the table. Levon seated himself and started eating as he suddenly realized just how empty his stomach was.
Sable nibbled on a strip of bacon. Team leader now that Jeremy Bane had stepped down, she watched her crew thoughtfully. Sable was pretty in an understated way, with glossy black hair combed straight back from a high forehead, huge dark eyes and full lips. She wasn't really aware of her looks, her mind was always so serious and responsible. As she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, she said, "I think we have a case for today. Only the four of us are available. Josef has taken three days leave to accept a bodyguard commission and Megan is reporting to her Trom superiors out in New Mexico. They'll join us when they can."
Standing up to bring his plate and silverware over to the sink, Argent asked, "What's on the agenda, captain?" Sheng looked like a Northern Chinese, but he was actually from the realm of Chujir. His hawklike nose and prominent cheekbones gave this away to those who knew about the adjacent realms. In his tan T-shirt and khaki slacks, the slim muscular body was accented. He rinsed off his plate and left it in a basin of soapy water to return to the table. "Something big?"
"I'm not sure yet," Sable answered. She poured more coffee into her cup and sipped it black. "I was told of recruitment of drivers and shooters in the underworld. And our observer got a glimpse of a man with a fixed grin on his face."
Unicorn looked up, suddenly serious. "A grinning man? You think it's Sepulcher?"
"That's what we need to find out," Sable answered. "In an hour, I want everyone reporting up by the CORBY. If Sepulcher is active again, it means a massacre is being planned."
II.
Levon went to his rooms on the third floor. They weren't luxurious but they were comfortable. A solid double bed, a desk, a dresser with a big mirror, some chairs. He had his own bathroom for the first time in his life. Stripping down, the Cat's-Claw drew what looked like a bodysuit of dark silk from where it hung on his closet door and tugged it on with reluctance. More and more, it felt wrong to be wearing the Trom armor, it seemed to suffocate him. Lately, he had felt more comfortable the less he wore, as if he breathed through his skin. Sable had told the team to wear civilian clothes and bring their field suits with them in case they were needed. Levon picked up the heavy leather suitcase from the bottom of the closet and placed it on his bed. Why did he bother with this? If there was trouble, all he needed was the Claw of Wakimbe which hung around his neck.
Getting more and more unhappy, Levon put his clothes back on, got a short denim jacket and loaded its hidden pockets with the gadgets and weapons developed for the KDF. The anesthetic dart gun was holstered in the small of his back, where the jacket would hide it. As he pulled the denim jacket on, he struggled not to rip it off and fling it across the room. This was wrong. It felt more wrong every day.
Sighing deeply, Cat's-Claw adjusted the jacket and opened the door to find Sable coming down the hall from her own quarters. She wore a pants suit of dark blue, with a white open-neck blouse and a thin gold necklace. He knew that her professional-looking outfit has as many if not more concealed weapons as his own clothes did, and that she was also wearing the flexible Trom armor under her clothing. As she saw him, Sable stopped short and tilted her head.
"I never saw more unhappy body language," she told him. "Levon, talk to me."
"Sable.. I'm changing. You must see it. The Claw is changing me body and mind. I don't know how much longer I can stay here like this." He almost sobbed with repressed emotion. "Maybe I need to stay in Danarak. When I trained under their wise men for that week, I suddenly felt at home. I.. I don't know what's happening to me."
She stepped closer, with a friendly half-smile. "We knew this might happen. That's a powerful talisman you're wearing, my friend. Kwali had years of training, and you are just relying on your own will power."
"I will NOT give it up," he insisted. "It came to me. When a dozen trackers were searching for it, the Claw came to me."
"I know," she said. "I mean it, I think that Claw came into your possession for a reason. I think things happen in life for reasons we can't see. Tell you what. After this case, we will arrange for you to have indefinite leave. Stay with the Bakwanga. Study under their Elders. When you are ready, come back. Your place on our team will always be there."
"Now I feel better. Thanks, Sable. I felt like no one knew what I'm going through.."
"Hey!" rang out a blithe voice from down the hall. "Whatever you guys are schmoozing about, Argent's got the CORBY warmed up. Let's get going sometime this year, okay?" Unicorn was lugging the suitcase which held her field suit in both hands.
"Ashley...." grumbled Sable as she tapped Levon on the shoulder and they went to join her. All three crowded into the small elevator which took them to the ninth floor. From there, they went up steep concrete steps to the hangar. A sleek black helicopter took up most of the floor space here. Its rotors turned very slowly. Sheng Mo-Yuan dropped down from the hatch by the pilot's seat and waved to them.
"Everything is nominal," he announced. "We can have wheels up in two minutes." The Chujiran had changed into dark jeans, sneakers and a green polo shirt. He wore a black windbreaker which concealed the various gadgets they all carried. Argent stepped over and slid open the cargo hatch, where he and Sable had already stowed their suitcases. As Unicorn and Cat's-Claw secured their gear, Sheng fastened the hatch again and grinned. "Only one suitcase, Ashley?"
"Hah hah, hilarity reigns," she said. "I stuck some luggage in there earlier just in case. Sable, you flying?"
"Yes. Levon, take co-pilot seat. Ashley and Sheng, belt yourselves in on the bench." Sable swung up into the cockpit, fastened the restraint straps across her chest, waist and calves, then inspected the array of pastel green and blue lights that surrounded her. Satisfied, she thumbed the button that made the huge roof panel open up. Daylight flooded the hangar. Sable pulled back on the stick, the CORBY rose up a few feet off the floor and the landing gear retracted.
"Levon, check for air traffic in the area," she said as the CORBY started to ascend through the roof panel.
"Nothing within two miles. There's a TV news copter up by Central Park," Cat's-Claw said after checking the Trom sensors. "Good to go, captain."
From the rear compartment, separated by a clear plastic partition from the cockpit, Ashley Whitaker said, "Someday nice men from the FAA are going to show up at our door."
"Settle down, Unicorn," answered Sable. She brought them straight up to five thousand feet faster than a missile would have gone, up out of sight in a flash. The Trom-built CORBY was not really a helicopter but just
a craft which was made to look like one. Nothing that depended on rotors for lift and thrust could have performed as the CORBYs did. "Heading north by north-east at cruising speed."
III.
Near the rocky coast, Sable decelerated and dropped quickly enough that everyone grabbed something to hold onto. They were miles from the nearest village and sparse forest passed beneath them with only an occasional house here and there. She slowed the CORBY and said, "That looks like Longendyke's place."
Peering down through the windscreen, Levon spoke for the first time in a half hour. "Have you ever met this man, captain?"
"No, never. Jeremy saved him years ago from Golgora. Byron Longendyke was grateful enough that he has reported anything weird or inexplicable to us ever since." Sable slowed to hover at treetop level. They were over an estate of more than two hundred acres, with an access road running along its perimeter. Up ahead was a mansion and a smaller structure and she lowered the CORBY to a gentle landing near a cluster of white birch trees. "Jeremy's network of observers has led us to many of our most important cases."
"I don't see anything going on in that house," Unicorn chipped in from the rear. "No cars in sight."
"No," Sable answered in a low tone. She slowed the rotors to a halt and began to shut down the CORBY's functions. "I think we are too late."
No one asked what she meant. They knew her gralic powers of enhanced perception gave her vision sharper than a telescope, and they were used to her seeing items from miles away. As Sable sealed the CORBY, Argent finally spoke up, "Captain, what are we getting into?"
"I believe Sepulcher has already been here," she answered. "A body is lying next to the house and two of the windows are broken from the outside." Sable started off at a brisk walk and her team followed.
They approached a three story stone building from its rear, everyone alert and ready. As he walked over the neatly tended lawn, Levon again felt the overwhelming urge to kick off his boots and race barefoot through the grass. It took conscious effort to remain calm and walk along with the others. Longendyke's mansion had a detached garage, and its sliding doors were up to reveal no cars within. Now the others spotted what Sable had seen from hundreds of feet away. Stretched out at the rear of the mansion, near the heating oil tank by the basement door, was a corpse.
"Fill us in, Sable," Argent demanded suddenly. "You've already picked up a thousand details."
As they walked up to the body, their captain said, "He matches the description in our files of Byron Longendyke. Cause of death is apparently a single gunshot wound to the side of the head, entering on the right temple. He is fully dressed, and he was standing motionless when he was killed." Standing over the corpse of a stout middle-aged man in black slacks and a light tan dress shirt, Sable did not kneel to examine it. "He has been dead less than two hours. Five men were walking around the house. Two cars drove up here, but four left. Sepulcher's men arrived, killed Longendyke and searched his house, then two of them drove off with Longendyke's vehicles." She sniffed almost inaudibly. "Another gunshot occured inside the house. There is a second victim in there."
Two years of working with Lauren Sable Reilly had gotten her teammates used to the way she could enhance all her senses beyond normal Human limits. It still impressed them. Unicorn walked up to one of the broken windows and got up on her toes to peer inside. "Nothing in this room," she said.
"No. The second body is at the front door. I know Sepulcher's method of operating. Even when he kills for minor reasons, he brings a few of his men to carry off any loot. Jewelry, electronic devices, paintings, anything valuable has been taken from this voice. Longendyke's cars are on their way to a chop shop where they will be repainted and sold on the underground market." Sable started walking around to the front of the house. Argent paused by the corpse and tried to spot footprints but couldn't detect any. The bullet hole in Longendyke's head was tiny, he observed, almost too small to seem fatal.
At the front of the house, on a patio of large flat stones with redwood table and chairs, they found the second body. It was a woman in her late forties, good-looking in a subdued way with long black hair. She was lying on the patio, propped up against the outside of the mansion. A tiny hole above one eye showed how she had died. "This would be Longendyke's companion, Anna Prosser," Sable said. "She was not expecting to be killed. Her posture shows she was taken by surprise."
Crouching over the dead woman, Ashley Whitaker adjusted the leather case across her own back so she could kneel and study the body. The little blonde was not visibly uncomfortable at being so close to a corpse. She had been raised from childhood by her mother to be the second Unicorn and she was used to gruesome sights. "That's an awful small entry wound, you know. Maybe .18 caliber? What's the deal?"
"It's a Sepulcher trademark," Sable answered. "Come on, everyone, back to the CORBY. We haven't left any sign we were here." She turned on her heel and strode quickly back toward the rear of the house. Her three teammates followed, but Sheng asked, "Are we going to notify the police or not?"
"Not yet," Sable answered. She was almost running as they approached the CORBY. "Unicorn, take the stick. I'm going to be following the trail and I need to concentrate." Unlocking the hatches with a signal from her Link, she swung up into the co-pilot seat. "Let's go, guys." In a few seconds, they had strapped themselves in. The CORBY was still warmed up, and they lifted off the ground in less than a minute.
At the controls, Ashley brought the stealth copter up to treetop level. She was the best pilot on the team because she had taken lessons under her mother before joining. The CORBY was so much easier to fly than a regular helicopter that she described it as "letting the bird do what it wants." Now she brought the craft up and hovered, waiting for instructions.
In the co-pilot seat, Sable leaned forward to stare down through the windscreen. "Bring us over the patio, Ashley. Good. Okay, I can see the tire tracks. The two cars from the garage don't concern us right now. There. I see the tracks left by a van. That would be where Sepulcher was carrying the loot. All right, Ashley, rise up a few hundred feet and follow the access road south."
In the rear compartment, Sheng Mo-Yuan shook his head. "It's still hard to believe. From this high up, you can see the microscopic rubber particles left on the road and follow them..."
Sable shrugged. "You have your gifts and I have mine," she said absently. "We each bring something to the team. You can go a little faster, Ashley. This road doesn't branch off for miles. With luck, we will be able to track Sepulcher down while he's still gloating."
IV.
Finally, Sable instructed Ashley to bring the CORBY up high enough that it couldn't possibly be seen from the ground even if someone had been looking forward. "That farmhouse with the barn and the barbecue pit. I'm more than fifty per cent sure that's our target, but the tire tracks have become so faded I can't be absolutely certain. So we need to investigate."
Ashley glanced over from the pilot's seat. "Can't you just listen to what they're saying, Sable?"
"Not from up here. Too much air turbulence. We have to use stealth and approach the building to get a positive ID. Here's the plan. We disembark a few miles back and separate, sneaking in as close as we can get. I will signal you two on your Links when I'm sure this is the right place. Sheng and Levon, I want you two nearby but separate to keep any of the gang from scattering."
"Hey!" Ashley squeaked, "What about me?"
"You will keep the CORBY in the air for rescue or assault. Sepulcher has never shown any gralic powers, so your specialty won't be needed. Unicorn, you stay in the copter," Sable said with finality.
"Well, that sucks. Now I'm the taxi driver..." The little blonde's pout was wasted on Sable. The team leader directed Unicorn to back two miles and landed in a clearing where they could not be seen from the road. As they climbed out of the CORBY, its rotors still turning lazily, Sable fetched her suitcase from the rear storage hatch. By now, none of the members had any modesty left. They had changed in front of each other many times, been stripped as prisoners and had become jaded about seeing each other. Lauren Sable Reilly was a good-looking young woman but both Levon and Sheng had reached a point where they regarded her without lascivious intent. Getting down to the suit of flexible Trom armor, she quickly tugged on the snug black pants, crewneck shirt and heavy boots, all flat black. The waist-length jacket with its own inner layer of the armor went on next. As she raised her helmet, Sable paused. "Aren't you two getting in your field suits?"
Argent made a scoffing noise. "I don't think it's necessary. These are just thugs with guns. I can become more impervious than the armor when I want to, and I can move quicker with that field suit. You can reach me on my Link."
"Levon?"
The young black man hesitated, then blurted out, "I feel the same. All those devices and tricks are not ME. I am the Cat's-Claw and I am better off being natural. Kwali fought in just cotton stalking tights."
Sable gave them both a sour look. "All right. You two are big boys and can make your own decisions. I just hope you're not underestimating these gangsters." She lowered the helmet over her own head, sealed it to the high collar of her jacket and slid the visor down. Her voice came from a speak into the jawbar, clear and natural-sounding. "Let's separate and sneak up on them. Unicorn, bring the CORBY up a few hundred feet and stand by. If we need you, we'll need you in a hurry."
"Understood, captain," the blonde answered as she climbed back in the cockpit and sealed the hatches. The black stealthcopter rose up with almost complete silence. There was just the whisper of a wind passing by. In a few seconds, the CORBY was out of sight. Argent and Cat's-Claw rushed to opposite sides of the road and likewise vanished within a blink.
Left standing in the dusty road under a hot August sun, Sable activated her suit's regulatory mechanisms and was immediately dry, cool and comfortable. She started heading down toward the farmhouse two miles away, giving her team-mates time to pull ahead. Then she stepped off the road into the woods and quickened her pace.
Racing through the forest, Sheng Mo-Yuan rejoiced in being young and athletic. Back in Chujir, he had studied under Sifu Tang Ming, learning much of the mysterious Fang Lung style. He had thought back then he was an unprecedented fighter, but then two years learning from Teacher Chael at Tel Shai had humbled him again. He knew now that no one lived long enough to learn more than a fraction of what the fighting arts had to offer. 'The further you travel, the further you are from the end' was Chael's enigmatic motto and Sheng was beginning to understand.
With his innate ability to shift gralic energy into his body, Sheng could become faster than normal or stronger or more resilient.. but only one aspect at a time. Even without training, this power would make him a dangerous adversary. Judging that he was nearing the farmhouse they had seen from the air, Sheng slowed and began moving more carefully.
Half a mile away, on the other side of the road, Levon Bingham couldn't stand it any longer. He came to a stop and tore off his clothing as if it was on fire. The silk-thin Trom armor seemed to be choking him. Opening it along its paramagnetic inner seals, he folded the armor into a neat bundle that could be held in one hand and concealed it beneath a round rock at the base of a birch tree. He hesiated. KDF policy dictated that he carry the various gimmicks on him but he could not bear to put those clothes back on again. He was wearing only a pair of khaki boxer shorts.
A cool breeze tickled his skin. The past two years of Tel Shai training had reduced his body fat nearly to zero, and his long wiry muscles stood out vividly. Around his neck, the black talon swung on its ensalir chain and Levon grasped it with a sudden grin. Now he felt free. This was how he was meant to live. It was all so clear. He clenched his fists and threw his head back and stopped himself just before he would have let out a roar to challenge any enemy within sound.
Levon folded his clothes and hid them carefully as well. After a long pause, he grudgingly took the Link and thrust it into the pocket of his shorts. Discarding that would lead to more inconvenience than carrying it would cause. Barefoot and jubilant, he took off through the woods at a full run. Soon, he was leaning so far forward that his hands grazed the ground, and he looked more catlike than ever.
V.
Inside the barn, gunmen were busy. Standing with folded arms, Sepulcher watched intently as two of his men tied down the bigscreen TV inside his van. Killing that Longendyke fool had turned out to be profitable enough. The man had been a writer of popular historical novels and his house had held some expensive video equipment. The wife had been fond of jewelry as well. This van was bound for a series of stops at various criminal fences and hock shops he had agreements with.
Three of his hired thugs watched him the way they would watch a copperhead that had come into the barn. He insisted that men who worked for him dressed professionally. They all wore suits and dress shirts, although he let them go without neckties. His rationale was that police would unconsciously treat well-dressed men with more respect if there was interaction.
Sepulchre himself was all in white. Deck shoes, lightweight trousers, a button-front shirt and a windbreaker even in this muggy summer weather. He was just under six feet tall, starved-looking, quick and alert. The hideous grin which divided his lower face was permanent. When he had been given that botched lethal injection in the Texas prison a year earlier, he had been declared dead but had somehow stirred and taken breath again eight minutes later. The muscles of his face were frozen in a leering smile, his weight had dropped even as his muscular strength had increased. He slept very little and ate without enjoyment just to stay alive.
It was his mind that had changed the most.
While recovering in the prison infirmary, new DNA evidence had been presented that proved he had indeed been innocent of the rape and murder of the young girl, as he had always insisted. The state had executed an innocent man, and it was only through his inexplicable survival that it had not been a bigger scandal. Released with profuse apologies, the man who would call himself Sepulchre had also been presented with generous financial compensation. He had immediately used this small fortune to start hiring gunmen and starting a reign of terror like no other.
Sepulcher killed at frequent intervals, often picking victims at random. Some of his murders were designed for loot. He had boarded a yacht full of recording studio executives just outside the three mile limit, he had rigged a Cessna to crash with two heart surgeons on board, and he had taken everything that had any resale value. He struck twice, maybe three times, before relocating in a different part of the country and so far the FBI and the police had gotten nowhere trying to catch him.
As his lieutenant closed and locked the rear of the van, Sepulcher walked over toward him. Nestor Torres was about fifty, a beefy man with badly acne-scarred skin and a drooping mustache. He turned and nodded at his employer. "Ready to go, boss."
"Torres..." said Sepulcher in his sad, gentle voice. "I saw you." He plunged one bony hand out and dug in the breast pocket of his henchman's jacket to come out with a pearl necklace. The grinning man held up the necklace so the watching thugs could all see it.
"I give you men much leeway, but what rules there are must be obeyed." The grinning man's face never changed expression. The contrast between the smiling mouth and angry deepset eyes was unnerving. "Torres. Really. You are paid well enough."
"Listen, boss, it was for my daughter. She's gonna be going to college in a month-"
"You won't be there to see her off," Sepulcher told him sorrowfully. The grinning man suddenly had a tiny metal tube in his hand and it blasted a flash of white light as it fired. The small bullet did not have much force behind its impact, but at point-blank range into an eye, it didn't need much. Nestor Torres made a choking noise and fell over backwards. His bloodied head bounced once as it hit the hard-packed earth inside the barn.
Watching, the rest of the thugs struggled not to react. They felt their own lives hung by a frayed thread. Sepulcher's dark eyes moved critically over them. He reloaded the handcrafted derringer and tucked it into its shallow pocket in his sleeve. He carried several of the tiny weapons on him, in different places according to circumstances. Twice, he had killed State Troopers even as they were searching him. "He knew better than to do that. Kortwright, Schupp... bury him behind the house. We will be leaving here tomorrow anyway."
Everyone gasped and wheeled around as they became aware of a stranger. Standing just outside the open barn door was a young black man, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts. He stood, relaxed and confident, with his hands down at his sides. In an instant, he was covered by five different handguns in the grip of experienced killers.
"You will never understand," the young man said in ringing tones. "You see your God as an old man with a long white beard, sitting in the clouds. I tell you, God has fangs! God has black fur and green eyes and claws that rip his prey apart!"
Sepulcher unexpectedly chuckled. "This lad is high. What kind of drugs do kids take these days? It's too bad you happened to see this, son."
Levon Bingham did not move as the grinning man approached him. He seemed unaware of being in imminent danger of being killed. "You deny yourself contact with the soil and the air and the sunlight," he went on. "I see how you close yourselves off."
"That'll be enough of that talk," Sepulcher interrupted him. He stopped just out of reach and shook his head. "How often the innocent have to die. But then, I was innocent! I've been dead, my boy, it's not so bad. Death is but a dream."
Levon smiled, his green eyes bright as they caught the light. "You are in for a revelation, smiling man. You will meet the Black Lion. My God has fangs and claws and the taste of hot blood is all the worship he craves-"
"Oh, enough of this nonsense," Sepulcher muttered. His hands snapped out and a derringer in each one barked sharply. Levon caught those bullets in the pit of his stomach, he gasped and doubled up. The muzzles had almost been touching his skin. Going into shock, the Cat's Claw fell to his hands and knees with his head drooping.
Reloading his tiny trick guns, the grinning man bent over and pressed them to the side of his victim's head. Then he stopped short as he noticed something odd. On a fine chain around this kid's neck was suspended a shiny black claw seven inches long.. and steam had started rising from it somehow.
On his hands and knees, head hanging down, Levon Bingham abruptly shuddered and swelled up, changing in a breath into a huge cat bigger than a horse. The creature's thickly-maned head touched the top of the barn door. Rearing up, the Black Lion blasted out a challenging roar that echoed from the hills outside and filled the barn like thunder.
The thugs began firing, their gunflashes bright in the gloom. Each bullet depressed the Black Lion's glossy hide slightly but did not penetrate or cause any pain. Without crouching, the gigantic beast leaped forward...
VI.
The man in the dark blue suit was thirty yards away, facing the opposite direction with a Marlin hunting rifle propped up against an outcropping. He was watching the road and Sable had crept up toward him with caution. Crouching down behind a pine tree, Sable took aim with her dart gun and fired. The barely audible cough of compressed air was immediately followed by the guard grunting and slapping the nape of his neck at the sudden pain. The darts hurt when they jabbed home, and the unexpected pain usually distracted the victim until the potent drug kicked in a second or two later. At once, the man was foggy and confused. He sagged, looked around dazedly, and then sank to his knees and stretched out in the dirt.
Holding the dart gun up alongside her head, Sable Reilly straightened up. She had already taken out another sentry the same way, and although it had been time-comsuming, it had been worth it to remove the guard system without detection. Her enhanced senses allowed her to pick up on low human voices further down the road, as well as the odor of an auto exhaust. Concentrating further, Sable decided that Sheng was close as well on the opposite side of the road. Stealthy as he was, he unavoidably made enough noise for her abnormal hearing to catch. Sable made her way further along. There was the farmhouse they had seen from the air, rundown and in need of some repairs. She was approaching from behind, she could see the rear of the barn but not the doorway. The barn had two vehicles alongside it, a gold VW Jetta and a Chevy Silverado. She heard a low sharp cracking noise from the barn, then the buzz of voices. With a start of alarm, Sable recognized one of the voices as Levon's. She moved more quickly toward the scene, her hearing turned him as she began to make out words. Something about "God has fangs."
Two more of those sharp snapping noises. She began to run toward the barn and saw Sheng emerge on the opposite side of the road. Then the deep bestial roar from the barn almost knocked her down. The Black Lion. Her heart sank as she gestured for Argent to come over and join her. The growling and screams and hideous crunching noises obscured the sound of the Jetta starting up and tearing off down the road. Sable dreaded what she would find. With Argent next to her, she peered around the corner of the red-painted barn and stared inside at the slaughter.
None of the gunmen remained whole, let alone alive. Surrounded by a circle of raw body parts, the Black Lion licked its bloody chops and rumbled deep within its massive body. The thick tail whipped from side to side angrily. As Sable and Argent appeared in the doorway, that huge leonine head swung around and the glowing green eyes narrowed as the Lion saw them. For one awful second, Sable thought the beast was about to pounce on them as well.
"Levon!" she called out sharply. "Stand down. It's over. Stand down."
With a snarl like the lash of a bullwhip, the Black Lion lowered its head, still staring suspiciously at them. Then, as if grudgingly, the huge brute convulsed, shrank and reverted to Human. Levon Bingham got up on his feet and touched his abdomen tentatively. The gunshot wounds were gone, absorbed by the Lion during the transformation. Levon exhaled violently and shook his head. "Sable.. Argent.."
"It's okay, Levon." Sable had holstered her dart gun and raised the visor on her helmet. "These men were all hardened murderers."
"Say, where are your clothes?" asked Sheng.
"I..I left them behind," Levon answered. "I couldn't stand wearing them any longer. Sable, I must leave the team. It is time I go to Danarak and learn how to control this power. It was difficult to change back. I felt the Black Lion resist me, I had to struggle to become me again." His hands were trembling and he clasped them together behind his back. "Even now, the Lion of Wakimbe wants to be unleashed. I will take that leave of absence."
"All right. It's up to you. When we get back to headquarters, you can pack what you need and I'll contact the Bawkwanga elders." Sable unfastened her helmet and tugged it up off her head. "With their training and counsel, you'll be fine."
"I hope so," he admitted. Staring at the slaughter all around him, the Cat's-Claw shivered as if cold. "If the Lion of Wakimbe ever got completely out of control..."
As matter of fact as ever, Sheng Mo-Yuan stepped gingerly over a detached leg to approach his teammates. "Wow. Well, Sable, I suggest we do NOT call the State Police out here so we can answer questions and sign statements for the next two days. What a mess."
"You're right," she said. "We're going to disappear right now and let the troopers figure this out the best they can. With her helmet deactivated, she took the Link from its holster on her belt. "Ashley, come in."
"Yo." The impudent voice was unmistakable. "Zup?"
"Bring the CORBY around. It's over. We're clearing out."
"To hear is to obey, oh Captain," said Unicorn's voice. Sable replaced the Link and turned around as she surveyed the scene. "I don't see any trace of Sepulcher." She moved to the open doorway and looked outside. "The Jetta is gone. Sepulcher must have gotten out of the Lion's way and hopped in the car."
Overhead, the ominous sharklike outline of the CORBY appeared and began to descend at a safe distance. They could see the platinum blonde head of Unicorn in the cockpit as she raised a thumb's-up gesture.
"We can still pursue him," Sheng said. "Get some altitude and search in expanding circles."
Sable did not answer immediately. "No. Getting Levon home comes first. Sepulcher has lost his team and he'll have trouble hiring more. Once the underworld finds out what happened to his hired guns, they won't want to work for him. We'll be able to locate Sepulcher before he can get another scheme underway." She placed a hand on Levon's bare shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. "We take care of our own first."
7/3/2015
