him into the sand. And then his hands were around his neck, both thumbs digging into the hollow at the traitor’s collarbone.
“Remo, take the sp—”
A deep growl thundered over the waterfall, making my spine snap very straight. I spun just in time to see a purple beast emerge from a cluster of aloe across the horseshoe beach, golden eyes set on the four of us, lips hitched around its shiny fangs.
Giya took a small step back. “Holy . . . spirit.”
A snarl broke out of the mammoth cat as it kicked up clouds of white sand.
“Remo!” I yelled, raising my spear.
My palm slickened around the long handle, and my bicep trembled. Gritting my teeth, I nocked my arm farther back and then let the spear fly. It hit the tigri’s broad chest, bounced right off. The wild cat snarled. It was so close, its rancid breath tinged the air, overpowering the scent of panem. My heart catapulted into my ribs. The tigri’s hind legs bent and then uncoiled, and the furred monster was airborne.
Giya’s hand clapped mine, wrenched me back. “Amara, run!”
I couldn’t move.
Screeching something, she hauled me back, pulling so hard she almost dislocated my shoulder. My feet slid, and I flailed backward, just as the tiger hit the patch of sand I’d been standing on with an enraged whine, before crumpling like a tissue, silent and inert, the machete sticking out from between its eyes.
As Remo freed his weapon, he yelled something, but I couldn’t make out a single word over the buzzing in my ears. Grasping I was out of commission, he trotted to where my spear lay on the ground, grabbed it, then raced back to us. I watched him scan the jungle, chest heaving. Was another tigri coming? Or was he looking for Kingston? Where had my cowardly uncle disappeared to?
Remo tilted his head in the direction of the caves. Giya’s grip tightened on my hand as she followed Remo through the dense brush. In increments, my hearing began to return. I picked up the sound of shouts over the chorus of thunderous growls and snarls.
Had they managed to tempt the six other beasts with the butchered bodies of their brethren?
A branch snapped.
We halted. Even our labored panting quieted.
Remo pressed the spear back into my still shaking hand. “Can you make another net?”
Nodding erratically, I waited for the predator to show itself, not wanting to flay my palm and fingers on the prickly metal mesh. When two hulking beasts materialized in our line of sight at the very same time, my heart damn near exploded.
“Shit,” Remo hissed.
“I don’t think . . . I don’t think my net can snag both.”
“Just focus on the one coming up on your right side; I’ll get the other.” He widened his stance and raised his elbow, viscous crimson droplets of blood dribbling from the machete’s blade.
As though a cannon had detonated, both mammoth cats sprang at us, their golden stripes glittering over their bloated muscles and their tails flogging the air.
“NOW!” Remo yelled.
I squeezed the spear, fashioning my barbed wire net, and hurled it over the cat. The animal howled as its front paws got tangled, which brought its huge body down right at Giya’s feet. Squeaking, she hopped back. Unlike yesterdays’ tigri, this one chewed through the wire, ripping it with its fangs. Muzzle and front legs wet with blood, it squirmed backward, managing to disentangle itself, licked its muzzle, then narrowed its gleaming eyes on us.
Crap. Crap. Crap. I needed to recall my dust and transform it into a weapon before it could chomp on one of us. “Giya, get behind me.”
“Why? What are you thinking?”
“Just get back, please,” I begged her.
She took a measly step back. I touched the part of the barbed wire net farthest from the tiger and liquefied it, molding it into a new weapon—a five-headed spear. Five, because accuracy wasn’t my forte.
The second the net vanished, the tigri’s tail flicked up, its spine arched, and its haunches lowered. I lunged before it could become airborne, shoving my spear between its peaked ears. All five of my blades went in, and blood sloshed out in wet streams that spiraled over the handle of my spear, streaming down over my hand and wrist. When the hot, tinny scent hit my nose, I gagged.
“Amara!” Giya yelled, gesturing to Remo.
I gasped. The back of his T-shirt was shredded and red—four parallel grooves flapped while the rest of the fabric was glued to his skin.