The human glanced at the lion. "Obviously, but it won't matter. We'll just follow her again and wait for another opportunity. And this time, it'll be less caution and more speed."
"A gun might be useful," the panther commented.
"We need to question her about her father first, remember?"
The panther gave him a disdainful look, then lowered his head, sniffing the droplets of blood briefly before his tongue flicked out. He licked it.
Eeeewwww.
"Graham, Mario, keep an eye on the exits in case she comes through before we can grab our car." He glanced down at the cat. "Frankie, you lick that one more time and I'll put a boot in your fucking face. Go get the car."
The cat snarled in reply, but otherwise did what he was told, his skin rippling as he moved until what reached the stairs was human once more—albeit a human with somewhat torn and shredded clothing. The other two did the same as they walked up the ramp toward the exit level.
The human studied my bike long enough to make me uneasy, then spun on his heel and walked after the panther. I followed, an unseen force of energy that crept along the roofline, flinching at the dust that rained through the pieces of me and hoping like hell they didn't stick to the particles. Re-forming when grimy was never a pleasant experience, and it usually took days for the muck to work its way out of my system.
The human ran up the stairs and out into the street. Frankie—the cat—was half a block away, climbing into a black Toyota SUV. It wasn't exactly a nondescript car, but I guess that wouldn't have mattered, because under normal circumstances I wouldn't have paid it much attention. And at least now that I knew who was driving it, it made an easier target to spot.
I glanced down at the plate, rolling the numbers through my mind to memorize them, then headed for the rear exit. The other two men were standing near an old gray Ute, one casually smoking, the other drinking a can of Pepsi. Like they had all the time in the world and hadn't just tried to attack me.
I noted their plate number, then made my way back up to my bike. After making sure no one was on the level, I reached for the Aedh again, re-forming and rebuilding my body particle by particle, until I was once more flesh and blood.
I released my grip on my phone and keys, and dropped to the concrete on my hands and knees, my body shaking and my breath wheezing past my throat. For several seconds it was all I could do to stay upright, and if those men had chosen that moment to come back, I would have been theirs.
Becoming Aedh had its price for those of us who weren't full blood—and, for me, it was a complete inability to do anything other than breathe for several minutes after re-formation.
When the debilitation finally started to ease, I cautiously rocked back on my heels. And that was when the headache hit like a knife through my brain and I closed my eyes, fighting not to cry out. I had no idea just how keen my attackers' hearing was, and the last thing I wanted to do was give them warning I was back.
At least my arm had stopped bleeding, even if the wound was still raw and it hurt like hell.