A Different Kind of Animal

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Leonardo was still in a happily dazed state of mind when things began to register in his brain as not-quite-right. The door to Thom’s house was slightly ajar, with faint light spilling out into the silent night.

The happy feelings that his visit with Arabelle had produced vanished completely when the wind brought to his nose the most vile scent he’d ever feared smelling again: Sir was inside Thom’s house, Leo was sure of it. Another breeze told him something else: there was blood.

Leo’s stomach convulsed with nervous energy, sending his heart pounding in his chest. But he didn’t go rushing into the house like he wanted to. Instinct caused his steps to slow and to become even more silent as he stealthily padded on the balls of his feet over the dirt and gravel of Thom’s tiny driveway.

At the edge of the porch, Leo flattened himself against the wall of the house and sidestepped up onto the dusty wooden flat, keeping clear of the open crack in the doorway. He had to be prepared for anything, and Sir would likely be pointing a gun of some sort right at that opening.

Leo stilled just before the edge of the door, all his senses going on high alert from the adrenaline pumping its way through his veins. He strained his ears, listening for any sound at all coming from the inside of the house.

If he’s hurt Thom in any way, I’ll rip his throat out, Leo thought with sudden vehemence, biting down on a snarl to keep it from escaping his mouth.

As if in response to his thoughts, Leo heard a weirdly high-pitched keening sound—the kind of unsettling sound that someone makes who’s in indescribable amounts of pain. It shook Leo to his core, and without any further precautions, he hurled himself at the door and burst into the hallway, automatically skirting along the wall to avoid any direct aims of fire.

But none came, and the scene that greeted Leo caused him to stumble to a stop, the snarl in his throat turning into a guttural moan of horror that was pulled up and out of him from the deepest part of his being.

Sir was at the kitchen table, standing rigidly with every ounce of the authoritative power that Leo was so familiar with oozing from his pores. Lying across the table, marred with blood, was Thom.

His old friend’s skin looked oddly sunken, and he was an even more deathly grey color than ever. Sir was holding a small razor over Thom’s right arm, his hand in position to make another slice beside the row of previous cuts.

While terrified for Thom, Leo was relieved to note that all the wounds which he could see seemed superficial. It had looked much worse at first glance, what with Thom’s skin being dotted all over with blood.

Sir was deliberately causing the old man prolonged pain. With a small razor like that—a weapon that wasn’t meant to inflict tons of damage—it was being used for one thing only: interrogation. But Thom looked far worse than he should have. His advanced age and coughing illness were already enough of a toll on his body.

Leo observed all this in a matter of seconds, a thick red haze settling over his vision as a hot, protective fury whipped up through his body. Thom was part of Leo’s family, and his old friend deserved none of this torture.

“Get. Away.” Leo had to clip the words out through clenched teeth, and they were followed by a warning growl.

As Leo shifted his weight back onto the balls of his feet, preparing to lunge at Sir, the General raised his hand and said evenly, “On one condition.”

Leo hesitated, but didn’t relax his posture. “Tell me,” he spat, narrowing his eyes in pure hatred for the other man.

“Come with me. Without a fight.” With a large, scarred hand, Sir motioned at Thom as if he were waving away a problem. “If you do, I’ll let him go with his life.”