Free Any Given Doomsday by Lori Handeland

Just as soon as I jumped into their back seat.
    The car—a huge, black Hummer—jerked to a halt, and Jimmy hopped out of the driver’s side even as a tall, lanky black man unfolded himself from the passenger seat.
    It was on the tip of my tongue to make a comment about the phallic nature of his ride, but before I could, Jimmy’s gaze went beyond me and he cursed.
    I spun, ringers groping for the knife in my pack. Should have had it out already. Stupid, stupid me.
    The cat, a cougar all right, was framed in the barn doorway, the lights of the Hummer splashing over it like sunshine. 1 found the knife, pulled the weapon out, then stood gaping.
    The animal had to be six foot three from heel to head, easy enough to determine since it stood on its hind legs. I’d never seen one do that, not that I saw a whole lot of cougars.
    Something bothered me about its eyes. It took me a minute to figure out what. The headlights were so bright they made the cat’s tawny fur sparkle, but not the eyes. Those were dull, as if the animal were already dead.
    The cougar began to move forward on two feet, like a human. The stuttering walk broke my inertia, and I stepped toward it.
    “No, Lizzy,” Jimmy snapped.
    Either my movement, or his words, keyed the cougar, which swung its gaze in my direction, hit the ground on all fours and headed straight for me.
    I considered running for the barn, seeing if I could catch the edge of the roof and pull myself up. But I’d never make it. Even if I did, I had a bad feeling the cougar would make it too. Instead I stood frozen, knife out, hoping for another miracle.
    Everything slowed. In the foreground I saw the cat speeding toward me. Behind it, Jimmy reached into the truck even as Springboard drew a gun.
    Along with the slow-mo, I heard an announcer’s voice.
    Springboard shoots.
    A puff of dirt sprang upward near the animal’s feet, followed by the report of a gunshot so loud I jerked. The cat kept coming.
    He misses.
    Crap.
    Gets his own rebound, folks, and shoots again.
    This time the cougar jerked, its front legs folding even as its back legs kept churning against the ground. The momentum flipped the animal end over end, and it landed just inches from my feet.
    The shot goes in from downtown.
    “Three points,” I murmured.
    “Were those silver bullets?” Jimmy asked.
    “What you think, man? I don’t carry nothin’ but the best.”
    I frowned at the dead cat. If it had been shot with a silver bullet, why wasn’t it ashes?
    Maybe it wasn’t a shape-shifter.
    Bending, I brushed my fingertips over the sheen of fur. A sudden wind fluttered what was left of my hair.
    Chindi , Ruthie whispered.
    For just an instant, I kept my hand on the cougar, and the wind continued to blow. I closed my eyes and let Ruthie swirl around me. She’d only been gone a week, and I missed her so badly my stomach hurt every time I thought about her.
    “Lizzy?” 1 opened my eyes. Jimmy and Springboard stood a few feet away.
    “Chindi,” I said.
    “Shit!” Jimmy cursed. “You shouldn’t have shot it.”
    “Shootin’ is what I do, Sanducci. You want me to stand by and let the damn thang kill the new seer?”
    In Springboard’s words lay a silent condemnation, as if Jimmy had stood by and let the last seer die. But that wasn’t what had happened.
    I didn’t think. In truth, I didn’t know.
    “Get away from it,” Jimmy ordered.
    In times past I would have argued. However, those times were past. I might be stubborn, but I could be taught. When Jimmy said get away from the dead chindi —whatever that was—I got away.
    “What’s—” I began, but before I could finish my question, Springboard suddenly stiffened as if goosed.
    The headlights of the Hummer still shone on us like spotlights, but the man’s eyes were as flat as the cougar’s had been both before and after it died.
    Springboard lifted his gun and pointed it at my head.

Chapter 11
    I didn’t have time to duck. Even if 1 had, I doubted I