Part 60 (2/2)

”You'll let me live?” Favre scoffed. ”What? In prison? I don't like that proposition. I like freedom better:”

The single gunshot, at close range, startled her-more thecrack than the pain. She saw Nate fly backward, hit in the hip, his weapon spinning away. Then she felt herself fall to the ground, to her knees, pain registering more as shock. She stared at her stomach. Blood soaked her s.h.i.+rt, welling through the smoking hole.

Favre had shot her through her belly, striking Nate.

The pure brutality of the act horrified her more than being shot, more than the blood.

Kelly looked at Nate. Their eyes met for a brief instant. Neither had the strength to speak. Then she wasfalling-slumping toward the ground as darkness stole the world away.

Kouwe b.u.t.ted the first knife away with his rifle, but the witch was fast. He fell backward under her weight as she leaped on him.

He hit the ground hard, slamming his head, but managing to catch her other wrist. The second knife jabbed at his face. He tried to throw her off, but she clung to him, legs wrapped around him like a pa.s.sionate lover.

Her free hand scratched gouges in his cheek, going for his eyes. He twisted his face to the side. The knife lowered toward his throat as she leaned her shoulder into its plunge. She was strong, young.

But Kouwe knew the Shuar. He knew about their secret a.r.s.enal of weapons: braided in the hair, hidden in loincloths, worn as decoration. He also knew women warriors of the tribe carried an extra sheath as a defense against rape-a common attack between the Shuar tribes during their wars.

Kouwe used his free hand to s.n.a.t.c.h between her legs as she straddled him. His fingers reached and found the tiny k.n.o.bbed hilt hidden there, warm from her body heat. He pulled the blade free of its secret leather scabbard.

A scream rose from her lips as she realized this most private theft. Teeth were bared.

She tried to roll away, but Kouwe still had her wrist in his grasp. As she spun, he followed, holding her tight and using her strength to pull himself to his feet.

They crouched at arms' length, Kouwe keeping an iron grip on her wrist.

She met his eyes. He saw the fear. ”Mercy,” she whispered. ”Please:”

Kouwe imagined the number of victims who had pleaded with her-but he was no monster. ”I'll grant you mercy”

She relaxed ever so slightly.

Using this moment, he yanked her to him and plunged the knife to its hilt between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She gasped in pain and surprise.

”The mercy of a quick death,” he hissed at her.

The poison struck her immediately. She shuddered and stiffened as if an electric shock had pa.s.sed through her from head to toe. He pushed her away as a strangled scream flowed from her lips. She was dead before she hit the ground.

Kouwe turned away, tossing aside the poisoned blade. ”And that's more than you deserve:”

The gunfire had already died around the camp to sporadic shots, and Louis needed to be gone with histreasure before his defenses completely fell.

Gathering up the second Uzi from the ground, he watched Nate strug-gle to his elbows, a fierce grimace on his face.

Louis saluted him and swung around-then froze in midstep.

Standing a few yards away was a sight that made no sense. A pale, frail figure leaned against a tree.

”Louis . . :”

He stumbled back in fright.A ghost . . .

”Dad, get back!” Nate called in a pained voice.

Louis collected himself with a shudder of surprise. Of course it wasn't a ghost.Carl Rand! Alive! What miracle was this? And what luck?

He pointed an Uzi at the wraith.

The weak figure lifted an arm and pointed to the left.

Louis's gaze flicked to the side.

Hiding under a bush, a jaguar crouched, spotted and golden, muscles bunched. It leaped at him.

He swung his weapon up, firing, chewing up dirt and leaves as he slashed toward the flying cat.

Then he was struck from the other side, blindsided, sacked, carried sev-eral yards, and slammed into the ground, facefirst. With the wind knocked out of him, he snorted and choked dirt. A large weight pinned him.

Who . . . what . . . ? Hetwisted his neck around.

A black feline face snarled down at him. Claws dug into his back, spears of agony.

Oh, G.o.d!

The first jaguar stepped into view, padding with menace. Louis strug-gled to bring his Uzi around, lifting his arm. Before he could fire, his limb exploded with agony. Teeth clamped to bone and ripped backward, tearing off his arm at the shoulder with a crunch of bone.

Louis screamed.

”Bonappet.i.t,” Nate mumbled to the two cats.

He ignored the rest of the attack. He had once watched a doc.u.mentary of killer whales playing with a seal pup before eating it: tossing it through the air, catching it, ripping it, and tossing it again. Savage andheartless. Pure nature. The same happened here. The two cats showed a pure feline pleasure in killing Louis Favre, not just feeding, but enacting revenge upon the man.

Nate turned his attention to more pressing concerns. He dragged him-self toward Kelly, crawling with his hands, pus.h.i.+ng with his one good leg. His hip flared with agony. His vision blurred. But he had to reach her.

Kelly lay crumpled on the ground, blood pooling.

At last, he fell beside her. ”Kelly. . :”

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