Chapter 19.

            Iga took off his outer robe for Cherry to cover up with, and Kaji wrapped it around the crying wereleopard. The monk stood there in his white under-robes, and must be one of the only lycanthropes I'd ever seen that wasn't naked upon shedding his outer clothes.

            "The other three, Nathaniel, Asher, and Ken, where are they?" I looked to Kannon. He snapped out the question at the monkeys that were still staring. There was a bit of shuffling, and the crowd parted to make a space beyond them.

            Zane was bounding through the hole in the crowd before I could say anything, so I stroked Cherry's back reassuringly.

            "Cherry, I'm going to get Nathaniel," I told her quietly. Cherry pulled back from me and wiped at her cheeks, nodding, her eyes red-rimmed. I stroked her hair once more and left her to Kaji. I walked through the hole in the monkeys, Browning still out. The monkeys glowered at me, but didn't make any moves towards me. Wise. Everyone else followed behind me, Jason bringing up the rear and Iga still chanting.

            At first I didn't comprehend what I saw. My brain had to take the picture in and then process the details before it gave me the full effect. I swallowed hard and tried to force my legs to walk forward, only to find they didn't want to move.

            Nathaniel, who was still clothed, had been impaled on three tall stakes driven into the ground. One through his left chest near his shoulder, another through his lower right abdomen, the last through his right thigh. And his own weight was dragging him down. His leg weighed less that the rest of him, so that had dropped slower, tilting his body. He was clutching at the stake through his chest to stop himself from sliding, but even supernatural strength can tire. About a foot and a half of blood coated wood showed above his body, making him level with about my waist. Bits of cloth from his shirt and other...small, dark globs had caught on the splintered wood. I didn't want to guess what they were, but it was too late. How long had it taken him to drop that far?

            "Nathaniel...." My feet moved forward finally, my concern outweighing my horror. He turned his face towards me, face streaked with still wet tears. His long hair hung down from his head to the ground like a dark waterfall pouring from his head.

            "Anita." His voice was strained with pain, eyes dark in the shadows from the fire. I walked right up to his side, near his head, and reached out to support the back of his head, sliding my fingers through his hair. I was shaking, but not out of horror. I'd gone past horror. I was pissed. 

            Nathaniel's teeth gritted in pain and his eyes clenched up, the weight of his head falling completely in my hand. His hand eased off the wood in exhaustion and with a grunt of pain, his hand tightened again.

            "Jason!" I yelled, trying to hold up Nathaniel's head and keep my gun pointed at the same time. Jason appeared beside me in a flash, along with Kuroda and Kannon. I tried to lift Nathaniel's head higher, only to hear him whimper at the way I was angling his head. I lowered it a little.

            "We could snap the stakes or lift him off." Jason looked to Nathaniel's face as if asking for permission. "Lifting him off would be quicker."

            "Do it," Nathaniel said somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Kannon explained to Kuroda, who flung his chain over his shoulder and nodded, taking hold of Nathaniel's leg. I shot a glance at the monkeys, and they stood there, watching me, all with condescending and hungry expressions. It was probably the first time their entertainment had the nerve to fight back. Like going to Disneyland, only to be shot at by Mickey and Friends.

            Kaji stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around Cherry, who was leaning against her, and trying to pull the robe tighter around herself, her eyes on Nathaniel. Youji was standing near them, seeming to have shaken off some of his own trauma, no longer needing support. His eyes were still dark and haunted, but horror and anger were creeping up in them. His lips had fallen into a grim line.

            I heard a shuffle and shifted my eyes to the weremonkeys. The moment no one was watching them, a couple had moved forward. I shot one in the gut and watched him fall, curling into a fetal position, and the others around him backed off a bit.

            I'd gotten to that point. I could shoot and not care. I considered inflicting a wound for each of Nathaniel's, wanting revenge, but decided to save that for the Monkey King himself. He was the one responsible for letting this happen. He had a whole shitload of pain and suffering to pay for. I've tortured a man before, but I ended his suffering quickly once I'd gotten what I wanted. I don't know if that made me better, but it made me more merciful. Or so I believed. It was the only way to deal with it.

            I heard the scream break from Nathaniel's lips, and I wanted to look. Most people wouldn't; couldn't deal with it. But I'd made it a rule that if the suffering person had to endure it, I could endure seeing it. But in this case, I'd just shot one of the weremonkeys, and the scream could push them into an attack.

            Nathaniel cried out again behind me, but the monkeys didn't attack. I could see the gleam in their eyes, something weak and injured was just on the other side of me, something that was bleeding and crying. Apparently, fear was enough to keep them back.

            "We got him, Anita," Jason's voice announced. I peeked over my shoulder to see Kaji coming up to stand guard in my place. He nodded at me, and I turned to go to Nathaniel's side as he was lowered to the ground. Kannon was cradling his head, with Jason kneeling by his legs. Zane was at his right shoulder, leaning over to lick his face with a long raspy tongue.

            The wounds, from what I could see through the clothes, were large and ugly. Wounds that you'd be afraid would gangrene and rot if not kill.

            "Let him shift," Jason suggested. "It'll heal him."

            Zane lifted his head and turned to head-butt my shoulder as if in agreement.

            "Can you shift, Nathaniel?" I asked him, laying a hand over the wound in his upper chest. He took a raspy breath and nodded. And then it started.

            His skin started to writhe, as if things were pushing against the inside of his skin. The movements were large enough to see through his clothing, bones popping wetly. Nathaniel arched and writhed and there was a ripping sound as Kannon's thighs and the ground beneath him were suddenly drenched in a clear fluid. The skin on Nathaniel's arms split open with small tearing sounds that made me wince, a howl breaking from Nathaniel's lips.

            More of the clear fluid and wet fur spilled out from under the ragged, retreating flesh I could see as Nathaniel's body reformed itself. His fingers dug into the dirt and created deep furrows that no human fingers should have been able to make. Tawny fur flowed down over his hands and down his fingers, the small cries from his mouth becoming choked growls as his face restructured and changed shape. His body shrank as it twisted and writhed, until finally, a tan colored leopard laid on its side, wrapped in the tattered remains of Nathaniel's clothing, its sides heaving as it panted.

            Zane leaned down and grabbed onto the shirt with his teeth, tearing it off and then nudging the other leopard's face. Nathaniel lifted his head and received the tongue that dragged over his face in reassuring strokes. His now golden eyes blinked owlishly at me, and he struggled to his feet, trying to free his hind legs from the jeans he'd been wearing. The change had healed him; no blood marked his fur.

            Two left. Asher and Ken.

            "Where's the last two?" I asked Kannon as he shook his hands, flinging droplets of lycanthrope slime off the ends of his fingers. He asked the monkeys the question, and they parted once more. We walked the gauntlet of hostile stares to come to the next clearing.

            Asher's coffin was wrapped in shining chains with wooden crosses hanging off them. Large, wooden, makeshift crosses stood like haggard guardians around it. Like a burial plot. Flowing through, around, and beyond was a carpet of ground hugging fog. A natural fog would have been burned off by the bonfires along the walls. This was the Monkey King's cloud. All that was missing was a few skeletons and maybe a crow or two. But we had fog.

            Behind all of it, about five yards back, was a carved rock throne. Sitting in it was a man dressed in yellow. He had his left arm propped on the arm of the throne, fingers to his face as if contemplating. A long staff of some sort leaned against the side of the throne. There was just enough distance and lack of decent light for no further details.

            The last barrier between him and me was Asher's plot of crosses. My free hand reached for the small, silver cross I always wore at my neck, and I squeezed it once. Asher was trapped. Freeing a trapped vampire was tricky. He could be catatonic, or stark, raving mad. It think that secretly, vampires are claustrophobic.

            I could understand that though. I'm claustrophobic. Claustrophobic, acrophobic, it's a wonder I'm not afraid of vampires and microscopic germs. I've woken up in a coffin with a vampire attempting to turn me. I'd screamed and fought the coffin while lying on top of the vampire until I'd found the lid moved if I pushed at it hard enough. We'd burned that vampire's haven to the ground with her and her minions inside it. Because she'd bitten and corrupted me already, I had the joy of experiencing her death with her. If not for FBI agent Bradley Bradford and Larry handcuffing and locking me in a car, I'd have run back into that building to save her.

            Swallowing down the memories of kicking out the car window and having to be sedated, I returned to the task at hand. The memories helped me refocus. I've dealt with worse.

            "Jason, Kannon, someone, tear down the crosses," I said calmly as I watched the man on the throne. A lycanthrope could do the job a lot faster than I could. I finally saw movement in the fog around the base of the throne, and realized someone was sitting there. Couldn't tell who yet.

            Jason and Kannon came forward, the others staying between the monkeys and the injured. The two grabbed the crossing sections and tore them off with loud cracks of breaking wood. Once the crosses had become harmless, standing wood, they were promptly kicked over. Then they turned to the coffin, tearing the small crosses off the chains and throwing them out into the fog. They grabbed the chains and immediately jerked their hands back, hesitating.

            "They've got silver in them." Jason looked back to me. His tone said it was merely an announcement, not an excuse. I nodded, imagining Asher's panic upon awaking. Had he screamed? Had he fought the coffin until his strength had faded?

            "Let's do it?" Kannon asked.

            Jason nodded, and they grabbed onto the chains, hissing as they pulled. The metal started to screech as it was forced beyond its own strength. Only metal has that odd, chilling scream that can send a shiver up your spine even in bright sunlight. The two kept up the pressure until the chains snapped, then were quickly thrown into the fog. Each immediately began to shake their hands as if able to shake the painful burns out.

            I stepped forward then, leaving my cross hanging out on my chest, and holstered the Browning. It would be up to me to open the coffin. My cross would protect me from Asher if needed. The fog swirled around my calves as I passed through it. The coffin was silent. For one horrible moment I feared the coffin was empty. I stepped up next to it, knelt, and...quietly knocked on the lid. "Asher?"

            There was no response to that either. I exchanged glances with Jason, and reached for the edge of the lid. Everything was deathly quiet. Too quiet. Famous last words. I pulled up and the lid didn't move. I jerked again. Nothing. They must have nailed it shut.

            Kannon's arm brushed my shoulder and fingers fell across mine. I glanced to my side to see Kannon had stepped up beside me, fingers sliding under the lid edge. Jason had leaned across the lid to also grab hold of the edge, touching my fingers. I looked to each in turn and we all shared a nod, then took a deep breath. We pulled.

            I don't recall what I saw. I lost a few moments of time. I just knew my whole face hurt, and I realized something was pressed up against my back. I grabbed for it, whatever it was, and my fingers met dirt. The air was cool and I couldn't see anything but white. Then suddenly I heard the screaming.

            I sat up in a jerk, and realized I was on the ground, the fog wrapped around my stomach and streaming from my hair. I blinked through tear-filled eyes to see a struggle going on above me. Someone's legs were kicking beside the coffin. I couldn't see the upper part of the body, blocked by the coffin.

            "Anita! STOP HIM!" A voice screamed, and I realized it was Cherry. I blinked hard and got to my feet, my face throbbing. Kannon was half in and half out of the coffin, his legs kicking wildly. Jason was yelling, trying to crawl into the coffin from the still closed, lower half.

            Then Kannon flew backwards out of the coffin, collapsing and vanishing into the fog. Jason was locked in a struggle with arms wrapped in white, and my brain finally caught up to me.

            "Asher!" I yelled, reaching in to grab hold of Jason's shoulders and pull on him. I could hear footsteps running up behind me, calling in panic. My cross suddenly flared like a star, so bright I had to close my eyes. Someone screamed, and I again hit the ground, Jason on top of me. He was short, but he was heavy. I'm going to need to see a chiropractor after this.

            Jason rolled off of me, and I scrambled to my knees in time to come face to face with a bloody-faced vampire just sitting up in his coffin. My cross flared again, and he flung his arm up over his face, retreating back against the lid of the coffin. The glow lessened instantly, like placing something in front of a flashlight.

            "Asher, it's Anita!" I yelled at the cowering vampire. He shrieked something incoherent at me, and I covered my cross with my left hand, curling it into a fist. It wasn't hot, thankfully. I've had a cross burn a hole through my shirt and burn my chest. Crosses and vampires were volatile for all involved.

            "Mon chardonneret!"[1] The name spilled out of my mouth. Asher froze in his cowering position as if he'd suddenly turned to stone. It was several long moments before his arm moved, just a tiny bit, and I saw a blue eye looking at me through wild strands of glittering gold. I tucked the cross back into my collar, and reached out my left hand to him.

            "Mon chardonneret, je te bois des yeux."[2] It wasn't me. It wasn't me speaking. I don't even know French. It was Jean Claude bleeding through. Whether he'd felt me and was coming to my help, or it was just his memories, it wasn't me speaking.

            Asher lowered his arm from his face, revealing the blood-soaked mess he was. It was in his hair, on his face, in his clothes. My knees moved closer and my hand reached out to brush my fingers across his cheek like one might pet the feathers of a bird's wings. Gently. Ever so gently.

            "Mon chardonneret," my mouth repeated, cupping his cheek now, and I watched his blank stare slowly crumble into anguished coherency. His hand came up to press my hand against his cheek, leaning into it as he closed his eyes.

            "Tu me fais craquer, mon amour,"[2] he whispered under his breath, and my other hand moved forward to cup the other side of his face as I leaned in close.

            "Je t'embrasse partout, mon amour,"[3] I whispered to him before leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his temple. I tasted copper in my mouth from the brief touch, swallowing it down. Asher was quiet for a moment, sitting there with his eyes closed and holding my hand, before his eyes opened again. He released my hand to look at both our blood-smeared hands.

            "Ma petite, what have I done?" he asked quietly, horrified.

            "Shhh." I squeezed his hand briefly. I heard a gurgling sound behind me, and turned to see Jason and Iga holding Kannon's head and shoulders up from the fog. Blood soaked his mouth, chin, and throat. Asher had torn his throat open. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and sputtered, looking at us with glazed eyes.

            "He'll be okay," Jason said quietly to us, his blood-flecked face serious. "We shouldn't move him just yet."

            Kannon coughed weakly again, and Asher fumbled to get up. I stepped back to allow him to step out of the coffin. A small movement of his head and his blood-streaked hair fell forward to hide the scarred side of his face.

            The others stood near us, looking at Asher with wide eyes. Youji had taken a few steps back, Zane taking up sentry behind him. None of the wide-eyed monkeys had moved. Everyone just stared.

            And then I heard the clapping. All heads turned to the source. The man on the throne was clapping. Steady and slow like a calm heartbeat. Something hanging from one of his hands glinted in the firelight.

            I turned to Kannon, dropping to my hands and knees. His eyes focused on me, breath rasping noisily and bubbling in his throat as the healing process busy worked.

            "I'm sorry, Kannon." My eyes dropped from his face for a moment. Words failed me. He coughed again, and a small stream of blood ran down his cheek from the corner of his mouth. His hand fell on mine in the fog, and I lifted it. His fingers tightened around mine and he made a small nod of his head.

            I smiled lightly at him, and he tried to curl his lips into a smile back. I leaned over him to lay a kiss on his forehead.

            "I'm going to get Ken, kick the Monkey King's ass, and we're out of here, okay?" I told him. He lifted his thumb from my hand to point it upward. His flesh of his throat was already knitting, vessels closing up and muscle reconnecting.

            I lay Kannon's hand on his stomach and stood back up, turning my eyes on the man sitting on the throne. He'd stopped clapping, clasping his hands together before his chest.

            Put monkeys on the list of animals I no longer liked.

[1] My goldfinch

[2] I drink you with my eyes

[3] You shatter my heart, my love

[4] I kiss you all over, my love