Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

Raoul, just susceptible to a Cajun’s charms.”

    “Not any Cajun,” he corrected, “just me.”

    “You sound so utterly confident. What makes you so sure?”

    “You left the homing device on the airboat and you don’ make mistakes like that. Why do you think you did that, sugah?”

    “Wh’d you lead me to your grandmother’s house?” she countered.

    You two okay?

    Gator started to respond to that faraway voice talking in his head, but stopped, his muscles freezing into position. He tapped Flame on the shoulder and held a finger to his lips. She nodded, puzzlement in her eyes as she slowly unwrapped her legs and allowed them to fall carefully away from his waist. Gator replayed the words in his head, listening to the sound, the choice of words.

    That hadn’t been Kadan. But it was a direction. Gator tuned to it immediately and sent a blast of low-level notes, enough to make everyone in its path very sick, but hopefully not kill every living thing. He knew there were no other normal humans in the immediate area because he didn’t hear their heartbeats, but there were animals.

    Obviously their enemy wasn’t exactly like Kadan. Kadan would never have opened his mouth and given away his location.

    Flame suddenly slammed all her weight against him, taking him underwater. Bullets spit around them, boring through the water like angry bees. The shots had come from above, slanting down, indicating the shooter was in the treetops. She kicked away from the reeds, tugging at his hand to bring him with her. They swam out to deeper water, going against the current in the middle of the waterway as they looked for safer ground. The easiest and most logical thing was to let the current aid them, but the hunters would know and expect that.

    The water was murky and it was nearly impossible to communicate even with hand signals so they used touch as they kicked strongly heading around the length of Burrell’s island. They swam for several minutes until their lungs forced them toward the surface.
    There was no real cover, so both only allowed their mouths and noses above the waterline to suck in the precious air before sliding back down into the depths again.

    Twice they came up for air, circling around the island until they were certain they could approach without the hunters’ knowledge. As they began to move into the shallower, reed-choked water, Flame felt something grab hold of her arm. It squeezed like a vise, yanking her down, rumbling her into the rotting debris and muck on the bottom. She actually heard the snap of her bone as the force of the spin broke her arm. All without conscious thought she pulled the knife from her belt loop and began punching the leathery hide as hard as she could with her free hand, the hilt of the knife tight in her fist as she pounded her way up the head of the animal to the top. She sank the knife as deep as she could, going for the eye, driving it deep with every bit of strength she had.

    Gator saw the tail of an alligator rise to the surface and then the water roiled and churned, debris, blood, and muck rising like a boiling volcano. Immediately he pulled his knife and dove below the service, his heart in his throat. The alligator was coming out of its death roll, surfacing, jaws still clamped around Flame’s arm, dragging her to the surface with it. She gasped for air, still pounding on the thrashing head. Gator struck from below, slamming his knife repeatedly into the underbelly. The alligator opened its jaws wide and Flame jerked backward away from the bellowing reptile.

    Gator caught her around the waist and, kicking hard, took her toward the shore. She was still wildly swinging with her good arm, trying to punch toward the alligator, almost fighting him to go back. “Stop it,” he hissed. “You’re safe, cher . Safe.”

    “I’m killing the damned thing. It broke my arm. He can just die for that.”

    Gator dragged her up the muddy embankment, through the weeds and brush, a safe distance from the water where he could examine her injuries. She jerked away from him, furious, in shock, blood running into the ground, her feet kicking toward the water as if she could attack the alligator.

    He trapped her with his legs, holding her still, tearing his shirt with his teeth. “Stop fighting me, Flame. I’m on your side.” Damn it, Kadan. Where the hell are you? We’re in trouble here. I need a medic now. He tied his shirt around the wound. She was lucky. The