A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [53]
“Who the hell do you think you are?” asked one with short-cut hair and a valiant attempt at a moustache. Dressed in jeans and sleeveless flannel rather than the more pretentious threads she usually saw from drug dealers, he could have passed for a migrant worker. His teeth gleamed white in the moonlight.
Lena tapped her bat against one boot, keeping most of her attention on the jaguars. Switching to Spanish, she said, “You’re outmatched, boys. I’ve killed far worse than a pack of prepubescent weres. Tell me how you’re bringing this stuff over the border, and I’ll let you live.”
“Maybe if you ask us nicely,” said another, earning laughter from several of his friends.
The first cuffed him into silence. “You think your little stick is going to protect you, bitch?”
Lena smiled. Faster than any human could act, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a Ruger Red-hawk revolver. Silver-plated bullets punched through the skulls of both jaguars before the others could react.
They had guts, Lena would give them that much. Three charged, bodies shifting into their jaguar forms even as she fired. She dropped two more, then struck the third with her bat. In her hands, the wood was hard as steel. The jaguar whimpered and drew back, holding his broken foreleg close to his chest.
By now the remaining two had drawn guns of their own. Lena jumped aside as the leader fired. The bullet grazed her ribs. She rolled and leaped again. Another bullet hit the ground beside her, spitting dust into the air. Before she could recover, the wounded jaguar crashed onto her back.
Claws dug into her shoulders. She slammed her head back, striking the great cat in the nose. Butcher shop breath puffed against her neck as his teeth caught her hair and skin.
Lena ripped free and rolled onto her back, grabbing the jaguar’s broken leg in one hand and squeezing. Now it was the cat’s turn to try to break free. Lena used his movement to pull herself upright, then grabbed the back of his neck. The jaguar had to weigh a hundred and fifty pounds. Lena grunted as she hurled him through the air.
What was wrong with her? She should have been stronger than this.
“Drop the stick.” The remaining two had spread out, guns leveled at Lena’s chest. Even at her best, she wasn’t fast enough to escape, and this was far from her best. She had once thrown a vampire through a church wall, but tonight she could barely hold her own against children?
She tossed the bat to the ground.
“Who else knows you’re here?” asked the leader.
Lena relaxed, opening herself up until she could hear the man’s heart pounding in his chest. Her own pulse sped to match his. She could smell the musk of his sweat, dripping down his neck and back. His body was still human, and it responded to Lena’s call. He shifted uncomfortably as his lust built.
“Nobody.” She stretched her arms overhead, wincing as pain tore down her back. Nine years ago their claws would have found her flesh as solid as aged hardwood. Sweat and blood made her shirt cling to her body. Just the sort of macabre wet T-shirt show a creature like this should appreciate. “It’s just you and me.”
He stepped closer, but wasn’t foolish enough to lower his gun. Sirens screamed in the distance. He stooped to pick up the bat. “What are you?”
“What would you like me to be?” She glanced at the bat. “Pointing that thing seems a little Freudian, don’t you think?” Lowering her gaze, she said, “A girl might almost think you’re compensating for something.”
As she had hoped, he snarled and swung. The bat struck her head and splintered, showering them both with shards of wood. Lena had made that bat from the wood of her own ash tree back in Michigan. Attacking her with it was like trying to drown a fish. She struck the gun from his hand and ran, trying to keep him between herself and the remaining werejaguar.
Lena swore as a bullet punched through her side. She glanced over her shoulder to see the second