Free The Undead Kama Sutra by Mario Acevedo Page A

back. He sailed around Wisteria Island and then southwest into the open sea. His running lights blinked off. Against the darkness, his aura was as obvious as a red signal flare. A half-hour later, he turned east, toward a cluster of small islands.
    He slowed and beached his boat on the sandy shore of the center island, about three hundred meters wide, with a dense cover of vegetation. I idled my engine and drifted. The surf splashing on the beach masked the noise of the Evinrude.
    Two men crept out of the brush, assault rifles at the ready. Johnson greeted them. All their auras burned with worry and excitement. I tried to listen, but against the churning surf,their voices were but murmurs. The three of them melted into the darkened interior of the island.
    Now I had these armed men to consider. I motored forward quietly and anchored in a dark little inlet swaddled in mangroves. I stepped off the boat and into the peaty muck. A cloud of bugs settled around me. Swathes of mosquitoes landed on my arm, tickled my skin, and took off. Why didn’t they bite? Professional courtesy, I guess.
    I lashed the bowline to a mangrove knee, climbed out of the inlet and onto sandy ground. The mosquitoes must’ve passed the word, because as I moved about, the bugs kept clear.
    Johnson and the two other men moved noisily through the brush, fronds, and branches. I followed in the shadows.
    They stopped in a clearing. One of the other men spoke into a handheld radio. “Bueno. Estamos listos.” He spoke with a Cuban accent. “La noche es bien lindo.”
    Of course the night was beautiful, that’s why they carried guns and sneaked around. This was code for what?
    Was Johnson here undercover? I couldn’t believe it. The man was sleaze; I could almost smell it on him.
    I stepped forward. A palm frond rustled against my leg. One of the men panned his gun in my direction. They hushed and studied the gloom.
    I froze until they seemed satisfied no one else was out there. I needed a form better suited to sneaking through the darkness. Like a wolf.
    I backtracked and found a clear spot of sand surroundedby saw grass. I took off my clothes, stowed them under a stunted pine, and lay in the sand.
    Summoning the transformation, I tensed my fingers, then my limbs. A searing pain racked my body. My bones twisted and re-formed. My spine elongated into a tail. Skin burned as fur pushed through. My jaws stretched and my teeth grew long.
    For several moments I lay still, letting the agony subside as I gathered strength and oriented myself in this new flesh.
    The air was rich with fresh smells. My hearing caught the tiniest of sounds. I rolled onto my belly and pushed up on my paws. I padded through the darkness. My feet avoided anything that could betray my presence. Leaves and branches brushed silently against my fur.
    I circled downwind of the men. They reeked of insect repellent and greasy meat. The odor from their oily guns cautioned me to keep my distance.
    The tallest of the strangers gave Johnson a satchel; he opened it and counted piles of the green paper humans hold more dear than life. Johnson looped the bag’s strap over his head. The three got up and headed to the south side of the island, where they stood on the beach. One of the men flashed a hand lamp toward the water. A tiny light answered.
    A dark shape pushed a curl of water. The shape turned into a boat crowded with human auras. The men aboard called out to Johnson.
    The boat crossed the surf and bellied into the sand. Men jumped off and formed a line from the boat to the trees.Others lifted bundles that were handed down the line, to be piled among the trees.
    I sniffed and caught the sharp smell of cocaine.
    Slinking around them, I kept watch on my prey: Johnson. These men had many weapons, which meant I had to corner Johnson alone and unsuspecting.
    A thumping echoed faintly in the sky, a noise still too small for humans to hear. I perked my ears. Motor sounds approached from the water.