Carpathian 12 - Dark Melody

monoxide. Dayan gained the interior of the house and paused for a moment inside while the vapor wavered into transparency once more, only to reform in the huge, well muscled body of the cunning and silent predatory cat.
    Dayan padded through the small, well-lit room into the darkened kitchen. He knew immediately where both hunters lay in wait. He could smell them, a pungent mixture of fear and excitement. They had been waiting for some time, pumped up and ready, sweat glands excreting their foul stench, but inevitably the wait had drained them and they had become restless and cramped in their positions. When the headlights of the car had signaled the arrival of the two women, the cycle had started all over again. Fear.
    Excitement. Adrenaline. And then the terrible letdown.
    They were shifting their positions, uncertain what to do. Their orders were clear. Wait until the women arrived, grab them quickly and quietly. Dayan read their minds as clearly as he smelled the sweat from their bodies. Neither noticed the large leopard as it made its slow, patient approach in imperceptible silence.
    The cat walked boldly out into the center of the spacious room, not even attempting to use the furniture for cover. This kind of cat-and-mouse game was as old as life itself to the predator. The leopard's eyes remained focused on its prey, a penetrating, piercing stare signaling that death was stalking. Those eyes held all the cunning and intelligence of a great hunter. They were not the yellow eyes of a leopard, but a fierce, calm black, empty of anything but lethal intent.
    The leopard dropped low, belly to the ground, muscles incredibly controlled as it began to stalk the men.
    Inch by slow inch. In complete silence. There was not even the whisper of fur brushing the immaculate carpet as the cat gained on its prey. A man was leaning against the wall, sighing, moving restlessly, easing his cramped muscles. A gun was in his right hand and he continually checked it, caressing the trigger absently with his finger, wiping his forehead where beads of sweat were accumulating. Waiting was a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    difficult thing, and he didn't have the patience or stillness of the cat.
    He never knew that he had gone from the hunter to the hunted. He felt the impact of the heavy body as it drove him into the wall. He felt the brush of fur and smelled the wild scent of death. Daggers pierced him where the heavy cat's crushing claws held him still while its long, sharp teeth punctured his throat. For one moment the man stared into the eyes of the cat, caught and held as his throat was crushed; the knowledge of his own death had come far too late to stop it. Those eyes held savage intelligence and were mesmerizing, compelling. As he died, he recalled the events leading up to this moment. He had been one of the men who'd stalked and murdered John Wentworth. One of the men who did security work at the Morrison Center for Psychic Research.
    Dayan lowered his prey to the ground, breathing deeply, forcing the beast under control. In the body of the leopard, his own hunger was doubly difficult to restrain. He moved quickly from the temptation, padding softly around the corner of the room into the hall on his cushioned paws. Corinne had been correct: The kidnappers were after them because John had gone to the center. Whatever her husband had told them, it had aroused interest in Corinne and Lisa as well.
    Once again in complete control of the beast raging inside him, Dayan began to stalk the other kidnapper.
    He was on the other side of the room, oblivious to his partner's fate. Twice he lifted a small corner of the curtain and looked out into the dark night. The leopard could smell him, hear his sighs, his movements giving away his position as he constantly shifted his weight back and forth in an attempt to ease sore muscles and keep himself alert. This man was stroking his gun, too, fantasizing about what he would do to the two women when he had them in his hands.
    The leopard padded forward until it was within several feet of its prey before it froze in position, sinking to the carpet in a low crouch. The cat remained perfectly motionless, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on its prey. The man turned and looked directly at the leopard without seeing it, without any awareness whatsoever. Dayan waited with all the patience of a thousand years of hunting. For him, the life cycle was endless and