Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(6)
When she turned back to him, the one who had been punched was staring at the one Jamie knocked out. "He looks worse than me," Angus said.
"Messing with me is a bad idea, especially when I'm hungry."
The excited anxiety of conflict was starting to pass. Jamie never let herself get loud or shout or show much emotion at all, but every time she got into one of these little situations, adrenaline surged through her body. It had since she was a little girl, since the first time someone back at home called her 'halfsie' and she had to ask her dad what that meant.
Half bat and half human. Only able to shift into an animal form when times were right. In her case, it was during new moons. She was rare and special and absolutely hated that she was rare and special.
She blinked her eyes, coming back to the present, and realized that Angus was tugging on her arm like a lost six year old who had just found a security guard at the mall. She crinkled her forehead, a gesture the drunk panther read correctly.
"I was just wonderin' if'n I was goin' to jail. Just askin' because—"
A smile crossed Jamie's lips. "You have a pack of kids and no one to care for them and you just want to get back to work tomorrow, right? I've heard it a million times."
Angus's mouth fell open, but he didn't say anything. Jamie shook her head. "You're not, but he is. I tried to warn him, but you know what they say about drunk panthers."
"Yeah," Angus nodded his head slowly. Jamie backed away. She needed wing-span room, and didn't want this joker grabbing her.
She spread them, feeling the tendons stretch, relishing the pops of the knuckles in her finger-like wing bones. A slightly chilly breeze swept across the parking lot, kicking up some dust and filling her wings. They prickled with the wind, and all at once, she felt alive.
"Wait!" Angus called. "I don't!"
Jamie swept her wings, lifting herself slightly off the ground, before she realized he'd said something. "What?" she called back, having completely forgotten she'd said anything. Flying was like this for her. It gave her a rush, a sense of complete freedom, like the chains of who she was, where she had come from snapped off all at once.
"I don't know what they say about drunk panthers!"
"Oh," she laughed. "Neither do I, I just said that to sound clever. Give your buddy a kick in the ribs for me."
She spiraled up, up, away from the ground, directly toward the enveloping sky, the beautiful blackness that was her shroud. She loved her friends, she loved Jamesburg, and even the dumber residents, like the two she'd just dealt with.
But nothing felt like flying. Up she went, higher and higher, until The Tavern was just a couple of sparkling lights, and Angus and Donald were distant memories. She hung in the air, sweeping her massive wings back and forth slowly, humming the tune to a Winger song she'd heard earlier on the radio.
Erik said that flying for her was like moving meditation. She thought that was stupid, because meditating was like meditating for her. Flying was transcendent, indescribable and perfect.
In the far distance, probably ten miles to the north, a small night-flying Cessna was heading her way. With a languid fluidity, she dipped down and turned a few somersaults, before floating downward on an updraft, fingers intertwined behind her head like she was floating in a hot tub.
And then, her stomach reminded her that it was time to feed.
For all her grace, beauty, and elegant intensity, feeding was anything but. Bloody, messy, and brutal - but completely necessary - there was a laundry list of reasons she saved her nightly date with her pal West's cattle for after dark.
She fluttered along, skimming over the Greater James River, and turned an airborne pirouette around the chimney of Milt's hamburger grill. It was still belching out greasy, wonderful smoke that carried the scent of meat in various stages of cooking. She'd never eaten there, but the smell was just about as intoxicating as a scent could get.
Before long, Jamie spread her wings, braced herself for impact, and trotted along the pasture, until she slowed to a stop.
She'd worked this deal out with West and his mate, Elena St. Claire. West was an ex-cop who moonlighted as a private eye for Elena's agency when he wasn't tending his cattle or raising prize-winning tomatoes and carrots. And, he also happened to have a hopeless addiction to bacon and beef jerky, despite his normally strict vegetarian diet. He’d tried the vegetarian stuff, but it just didn’t scratch that itch. So, Jamie gave him jerky, and West let her, well, suck the blood out of his cows.
"Oh, you again?" Jamie said, patting a fat heifer on the shoulder. The cow reacted with a gentle moo and a nuzzle of her nose against Jamie's arm. "You like this, don't you?"
She slid her hand along the animal's wiry fur, patting a cloud of dust off her dinner. "I really should give you a name for as much time as we spend together. The cowprodded her again as Jamie scratched one of her black spots with an outstretched fingernail. If cows could purr, this one was mewling like the most obnoxiously needy housecat in the entire world. It brought a smile to Jamie's lips.
Her fangs extended, and when she opened her mouth, the cold air tickled the inside of her mouth. "Where do you want it this time, uh, Gertrude?"
The name fit for some reason. Gertrude turned her huge, brown eyes toward Jamie, and Jamesburg's only bat girl thought for just a second that the cow actually shrugged. Then, she thought she was probably going insane.