“That doesn’t matter. They won’t be expecting an attack when we come after them. They’ll buy the fact that the Houston families wanted Mitya and Sevastyan dead. There seemed to be bad blood between them. There were implications in the news about it.” Conrad was patient. “We’ll get them.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Rolan capitulated all at once, staring at the downed leopards in the front of the house.
“Oliver, get your men back to the cargo ship as soon as you’re done. Have them bring any bodies with them,” Conrad ordered, proving who was really in charge. “No one can be left behind or they might be traced to you.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Oliver wasn’t paying much attention. His gaze was fixed on the battle. Only minutes had gone by, but things weren’t adding up. His men hadn’t come around from the other sides to pour into the front as they’d been instructed. No one had called in to say they’d breached the back. He could see bodies lying in the yard. Too many bodies and most looked like his men. He still hadn’t spotted the big leopard they were supposed to kill.
Conrad waited for Rolan to strip and roll his clothes, put them in his bag around his neck and shift. Rolan’s leopard, Diktator, had a thick, darker Amur gray undercoat with darker rosettes scattered in wide patterns all over his lengthy body. He wasn’t short and compact, rather long and lithe. Rolan had given his leopard the name when he was very young because the kitten had been so much bigger. He’d been almost twice Rolan’s length when he was a toddler. He’d referred to him as big brother. He’d never made the mistake of calling his leopard big brother in front of Lazar, because Lazar would have had his leopard harass and hurt Diktator.
Conrad’s leopard was younger, definitely in his prime, a big male with a long, thick, ivory-and-gray undercoat and distinct black rosettes down his spine and then falling over his body, tail, face and ears in a beautiful pattern. He was a powerful male and knew it. He fell back to protect the older male as Diktator set out for the road on the far side of the meadow.
Once Rolan made up his mind to leave, he set a fast pace, moving around the bombs and heading straight for the trucks and the transports that had carried the men to the property. They’d come in the back way, over the dirt road leading to Mitya’s property, not wanting to be seen. The teams had then dispersed to their assigned locations before closing in on the house.
The moment Rolan and Conrad were away from the knoll, Sevastyan and Zakhar fell in behind them. Kyanite watched them go and then he instructed his leopard, Bahadur, whose name meant warrior, to step around the bomb and climb up the knoll to stalk Oliver. His leopard, although big and very powerful, was also extremely stealthy, able to be just as silent as any of the other smaller leopards he had trained or worked with.
Bahadur crawled on his belly up the knoll, careful to keep from disturbing any loose dirt that would roll down the hill and be heard by Oliver. He kept downwind. Oliver, a shifter, would be using all senses. At this point, there was no doubt he had to be aware the battle hadn’t gone as planned. Kyanite could clearly hear him calling softly into his radio, demanding each of his units call in to him with a report. His voice was tense, no longer confident or arrogant. No one answered him.
Bahadur had him in sight now. Crouched only thirty feet away, in the higher grasses, he watched as Oliver threw the radio down and stripped, turning to face the same way Rolan and Conrad had gone. As he shifted, Bahadur charged, hitting him in the side with such force it drove the contorting half human, half leopard off the knoll onto the ground below. Bahadur leapt after him, landing on the creature as he desperately tried to finish shifting with broken bones.
Oliver’s leopard swiped at Bahadur’s throat, but Kyanite’s leopard was far too experienced and there was no target for the downed creature to get to. He ripped open the belly of the half human, half leopard and then delivered the kill bite to the exposed throat as the creature tried to roll. Bahadur stayed several moments, making certain Oliver was dead, and then, taking direction from his human companion, turned to follow Sevastyan and Zakhar. Vikenti’s and Zinoviy’s leopards joined him.
Sevastyan and Zakhar split up. They knew the terrain much better than Conrad and Rolan, who had studied it only from a map. They circled around and got ahead of their enemies, placing themselves well between them and the road where their transports were, where drivers might see or hear if they called out for help.
Shturm targeted Conrad’s leopard. To him, the animal was the biggest threat. Rolan was past his prime and appeared ill. If Istrebitel didn’t get him, then he would follow up. Both leopards knew the others would be coming to help kill the drivers of the transports. If nothing else, they could cut Rolan off from the others and take him down at their leisure. Conrad was the most important.
Shturm watched Rolan go past, the leopard sprinting for the trucks, wasting energy, not even considering that he might be stalked. Conrad’s leopard wasn’t that far behind. Shturm charged him straight on, full speed, hatred driving him every step of the way. Smerch, Conrad’s leopard, had no choice but to meet the charge head-on. He reared up at the last minute in a kind of desperation. The leopards came together, slashing with claws and teeth at faces, bellies and genitals.
Shturm’s claw ripped a chunk of fur and flesh from Smerch’s face, nearly taking his right eye. The other leopard just managed to turn his head in time. They crashed to the ground together in a tangle of claws and teeth, Shturm, taking full advantage of his powerful jaws, clamping on the other cat’s precious jewels and ripping while digging at his belly with claws as they rolled over and over in the grass.
Desperate, Smerch tried to break away, to get any advantage at all, clawing for purchase on the ground so he could get to his feet, but Shturm kept tearing at him, slicing at him relentlessly, mercilessly, clamping down on his back paw and crunching, dragging the leopard back to him when Smerch would have crawled a distance away.
Conrad looked up through Smerch’s eyes to see Sevastyan looking down at him through Shturm’s eyes. He made one last effort to save his leopard, a sneak attack, coming at the big brute from under his belly to the throat, but Shturm countered the move easily and bit down hard on his throat, holding, suffocating him, waiting until the life was gone out of his rival.
It was much more difficult to get Shturm to back off. He kept leaving the carcass but then returning, slapping leaves and debris at it and roaring a challenge to any other male who dared stay in the territory near his female. Finally Sevastyan was able to get him to run in the direction he needed him to go.
The still night air carried the sound of their growls a great distance, just as the sound of the battle around Mitya’s house could be heard. If those men driving the transport trucks heard, they must not have thought much about it because no one came to Conrad’s aid, not even Rolan.
Diktator, Rolan’s leopard, skidded to a halt and swung around at the sound of the terrible sawing growls and challenging roars, so distinctive of leopards fighting. He paused for a moment and then turned and raced toward the safety of the trucks. He was sprinting hard, his legs shaky, not used to running anymore, when something hit him from the side. A bright hot pain spread through his body and he knew his lung burst.
His legs went out from under him and he tumbled, rolling over and over, coughing as blood filled his throat and nostrils. He tried to stand, but then went down, his sides heaving. He watched as the leopard approached, not even coming at him fast, as if he didn’t even count. As if he wasn’t a vor, a leader of the bratya, his lair one of the most feared.
Diktator snarled at him, showed his yellow, stained teeth, but didn’t move, sides heaving as he tried to gather his strength. The leopard just watched him with malevolent eyes. The leopard had a strange, distinctive coat. Pure white underneath with a scarred, dark coat on top. Where had he seen him before? He should know him. He had seen him, a long time ago in Russia, but Rolan’s memory was going.
r /> Without warning the leopard attacked, moved so fast he was a blur, just a streak of spots, and there was a terrible crunch and more flashing pain as the leopard bit through the bone of his right back leg. Diktator howled. The leopard retreated, once more circling, staying just out of reach, looking as if Rolan’s leopard was nothing at all and Rolan no more than the lowest creature inhabiting the earth. Rolan wanted to scream at him, to tell him differently, but he didn’t dare.
Minutes later, three more leopards joined Diktator. One was a powerful Persian leopard, the other two were Amur leopards. They paced back and forth, circling Diktator. Another two minutes, and there was no mistaking Shturm, Sevastyan’s leopard. Rolan’s heart sank. He should have known the reason the leopard hadn’t come in for the kill.
Conrad had tried to warn him a dozen times against coming to the States. He’d told him to leave it alone, that Mitya and Sevastyan were long gone and weren’t coming back. Even after Lazar had been killed by Mitya and Sevastyan, the betrayal had eaten away at Rolan until he couldn’t think of anything else. He wanted Lazar’s sons dead. He needed them dead.
Shturm trotted up to the other leopards and all of them looked in the direction of the trucks. It was clear Oliver was dead. Most likely, everyone was dead. He’d failed all around. Rolan was weary. Diktator was weary. He let Sevastyan come to him. There were ways. There were always ways. He could act conciliatory. Pretend he wanted to talk. He shifted, just partially, his head, luring Sevastyan in. Making him vulnerable. That was all Diktator would need.
Shturm stepped close. Rolan’s heart accelerated. He could see Sevastyan’s eyes looking back at him. He was going to shift. He told Diktator to be ready, to go for Sevastyan’s throat, his most vulnerable place, if he shifted only partially so they could talk.
“Lazar did us all such a disservice, teaching us such hatred,” he began, watching. Feeling triumphant. Gleeful.
Shturm leaned in before Rolan could shift back, put his jaws around the man’s head and bit down hard, crushing the skull as if it was no more than an eggshell. He pulled back and looked down at the leopard with contempt before delivering a second bite to the throat. He turned and followed the other leopards to the transports and the drivers.
Sevastyan was going to help with dispatching them and then he would leave the mop-up to his security force so he could get to Flambé and make certain she and Flamme were all right. He had no idea what was going on with her, since she wouldn’t answer him and he couldn’t send Kirill and Matvei up to the master bedroom to check on her. But the sense of urgency was riding him hard.