Rubin was methodical. These men were comfortable in the trees. They could move fast in them, leaping from tree to tree like flying squirrels. Jonquille might eventually expect that, just as Rubin and Diego would. So their ace would most likely take to the ground. He would locate Diego by the direction of his bullets and creep up on him, using the cover of the dense underbrush.
Rubin directed the owl to sweep the forest floor in the area where Diego had gone to ground. If he was right, his brother would be pinned down by the sniper, unable to change positions while their assassin would be slowly stealing up on him. If Diego chose to defend himself against the one on the ground, the sniper would kill him. He was dead either way. Rubin had to find the assassin on the ground.
Movement caught the eye of the owl, and Rubin’s heart stuttered for just one moment. The assassin was close, coming up on Diego from the south side. He knew he’d given Diego knowledge of him by the sudden stillness in his mind.
Don’t move. Keep very still. Sending the owl. The leader is watching. Don’t know if he’s a sniper as well, but we have to assume that he is.
His heart accelerated overtime, something very unusual for him. Rubin always kept himself under control, but this was Diego in danger.
The great horned owl was a raptor, a ferocious hunter. This was her territory and she defended it without fear. She left the branch, lifting into the sky on her wings. She was a deadly killing machine, coming out of the darkness in complete silence and dropping low, talons outstretched toward her prey. The first slash was straight at her victim’s eyes, tearing at the orbs with such strength she rolled the man over, removing one eye completely and leaving the other hanging out.
He screamed and threw his arms up in an effort to protect his face and continued rolling. She struck a second time, a terrible blow to the top of his head, leaving behind three four-inch gashes in his scalp. The owl was relentless, striking a third time, tearing with her talons down his arm as he rolled.
Rubin was up and running, leaping over fallen trees and shortened brush, calling to the owl, forcing her away from her prey. Rifle shots reverberated through the night. One from the sniper covering Diego and one from Rubin’s quarry, the team leader who clearly was taking a shot a mile out through trees, both aiming at the owl as she attacked the assassin.
It was too late, Rubin had already called her off and she had risen, circling back toward the sniper closest to Diego, her menacing yellow-orange eyes staring straight into his while her talons slashed at his chest and ripped the rifle from his hands. The sniper nearly fell from the tree and had to leap from one branch to the next in an effort to escape her.
Rubin called to the owl as he ran, using a series of hoots to get her to come to him, fearing the leader would shoot her. Sure enough, the sound of a rifle firing several shots told him the man was doing his best to hit his hunting companion. It only took a couple of minutes, but those two minutes were enough for someone enhanced, such as Rubin, to cover ground fast. He was nearly to the leader’s tree.
Diego was up and running toward the wounded squirrel man on the ground, distracting the leader further. The leader was a little larger than the original squirrel man, but still able to move easily through branches and leap from tree to tree with blurring speed. He was small enough that he could land on the limbs of trees that might not hold bigger men like Diego and Rubin, so he could get higher in the canopy without fear of snapping off the more fragile branches.
Without hesitation, Rubin sent the horned owl straight at the leader, not wanting to risk allowing him to get a shot off at Diego. He hated risking the beautiful bird, but he couldn’t let his brother get shot.
That wouldn’t happen. I’m not that slow. Diego sounded aggravated with him.
Ignoring his brother, Rubin leapt for the lower branches of the tree and pulled himself up fast, using sheer brute strength while the owl began darting in and out of the branches.
An agonized scream heralded the arrival of Diego to the location of the original squirrel man. The leader squeezed off a couple of shots toward Diego and leapt for the next tree. He yelled as the owl tore a gash down his back before he was able to get into a protected shelter of branches where he could fend off the bird’s repeated attacks.
Rubin was up the tree and into the next, climbing higher, keeping the pressure on the leader, not wanting to give him a chance to turn the rifle on Diego or the owl again. The great horned owl helped by continuously flapping its wings and darting in and out of the branches trying to get at the man with beak or talons.
Without warning, thunder rolled overhead, a continuous, ominous booming so loud the ground shook. Rubin, not a man given to cursing, knew, once again, the enemy had backup.
Jonquille. Are you safe?
I can handle a little lightning. They’re trying to distract you both. They don’t want Diego to get any information from the one on the ground. I don’t know why, but we seem to be connected in some way. I killed the assassin the owl tore up. He was trying to get to Diego and the other one. He was mostly dead anyway. The persistence he showed told me the one Diego is questioning has important information.
Lightning crackled in the dark clouds directly over Diego’s position. Rubin knew Jonquille was very close to his brother and the downed would-be assassin. He glanced down and saw a very small figure leap up from the darker brush. She looked like a tiny fairy, a true lightning bug, dancing like a firefly might at sunset across the tops of the grasses as she raced away from Diego and the man he interrogated. Her hair glowed, a wild display of platinum blond strands standing up like a halo around her head as she threw back the hood of her jacket to attract the lead stroke from the clouds.
Rubin’s breath caught in his throat. Energy in the form of sparks circled her small waist, rib cage and outstretched arms and flashed around her legs as she ran, giving more and more the appearance of her dancing in the air. His heart sank as he felt the charging in the air increase.
Stop, Jonquille. You’re playing right into their hands. They came for you. This is all about you. They’ve pulled you away from us. Go back toward Diego. Reverse directions. I can direct the strike away from him.
He knew it was too late. Lightning forked across the sky, cloud to cloud, and then the lead stroke found its path straight to her. He sent out the intercept to direct the bolt away from Diego, but it didn’t matter. The target wasn’t his brother. The target all along had been Jonquille. The team was desperate to acquire her. Casualties didn’t matter, only getting Jonquille mattered.
The dart gun was silent, but he saw it hit her and she went down hard. Fast. One moment standing and the next dropping to the ground. Whatever they used was instantaneous. Rubin leapt from the branch he was on, although he doubted he would get there in time to stop the recovery team from taking Jonquille. He was too far away.
Kill him, Diego, and get to her. Kill as many as you can. At least we can handicap them as they’re bringing her off the mountain, he ordered.
He ordered the owl to kill the prey in the tree at all costs. He knew the female raptor would never give up. It would be a battle of life or death between predator and prey. She would keep at him until she ripped every square inch of skin off him. Once on the ground, Rubin ran full out, using every enhanced bit of animal DNA he had to aid him.
He heard the bark of Diego’s rifle twice and saw two men go down, but it seemed as if there were at least ten to fifteen men swarming around Jonquille. He counted eight lying prone in a semicircle around her, guns pointed toward Diego’s location. These weren’t rifles. They weren’t semiautomatics. They looked as if they were new-age weapons built to take half the mountainside with them when fired.