Man Eater

‘Marcus!’ she yelled. ‘Marcus!’

There was a flash of white. Muted. Soft.

‘What?’ He came crashing through the woods. ‘What is it?’

And then he saw it. The pale underbelly. The danger in bestial form…

With a snarl, the cheetah pounced upon the victim it had been stalking so silently.

With no weapon to defend himself, Orbilio threw up his hands-but it was no match for a hundred-pound cat hurtling out of the canopy. He could see every sinew, every black spot on the bright yellow pelt. Her pink nose. Her long, white whiskers. He could smell her breath on his face, fishy, stale. He saw strands of saliva, saw her awesome white fangs.

They would be the very last thing he saw in this life…

And then…

In mid-leap, it twisted and jerked. The snarl changed, became deeper, guttural. He felt a surge of liquid hot on his face. As the cheetah crashed down on top of him, a shudder rippled through its powerful frame. It convulsed twice, and twice more, then lay still. And the liquid he tasted was its blood.

Dazed, he looked round. Sticking clean through its neck was the point of his rough-hewn stake.

Marcus Cornelius Orbilio heaved the cat’s corpse clear of his body and scrambled to his feet. He wanted to thank her for saving his life, he wanted to tell her how lovely she looked, hair wild, cheeks flushed, body almost naked. He wanted to ask her to marry him.

Instead he was sick on the spot.

*

Claudia was still shaking as she lifted the hasp on the orchard gate. It was reaction, of course. Read nothing more into it. A man’s life was in danger, she had a weapon to hand at the time. That was all. She’d have done the same for anyone, and heaven knows it was easy enough. She’d seen the cheetah long before Orbilio, watched it spring. Hell, the damned cat practically impaled itself!

Smoke was rising from the kitchens and the slave barracks.

This was a set-up, start to finish, she thought. We were supposed to find Salvian. We were supposed to escape. Then-tragic accident. Cuddles gets loose and, tut-tut, two people torn to shreds. As Claudia’s tunic lay in one baited heap, no doubt Orbilio’s doubled the odds somewhere else, and when the cat had finished with them…well, that was not a pretty thought. Pallas said they start with the heart and the kidneys, but what the hell does he know? This was the man who swore it only took gazelle!

She paused to feel the first rays of the sun on her face. Her hair was almost dry now, the tangles would be excruciating. She opened the door to one of the outbuildings. It was the hay store, where Corbulo nearly came to a sticky end and quickly she shut it again. The next shed stored farm implements. Right. We’re in business. A workman’s coarse tunic lay discarded on a plough. Bit short on personal hygiene, Claudia thought, slipping it over her head, but not as bad as Taranis. She sauntered along the shed. Hoes, hurdles, sleds, drags-aha, what have we here? She weighted a pair of sheep shears in her hand. Probably more for the camels these days, it was a long time since sheep grazed these pastures.

Outside, Claudia stood for a moment on the terracing, listening to the yawns, grunts and chatters that seem common first thing in the morning to all creatures, whether wild, domesticated or human. While Cuddles had been stalking her victim, Claudia’s mind had been completely concentrated, but the second the cat’s death set in, she’d felt an inexplicable tug at her innards which owed nothing to fear and less to relief. Then when Marcus rolled out from under the cheetah, it seemed her raw emotions were mirrored on his own face. He had lurched white-faced towards her, and suddenly all she wanted was for him to open his arms and envelop her… Dammit, she was glad when he threw up!

Her gaze roved the Vale of Adonis, over its ordered rows of vetch and lupin. It was no good for a girl, this sudden rush of sentiment. And to hell with this workman, too, and his penchant for bloody onions. What else could be making her eyes water?

Taking a deep breath, Claudia flexed the shears. Well greased, they moved sweetly, but she did not intend to use them for haircuts.

The door to the north wing would be open by now.

Tulola, naturally, would have an alibi.

Someone to swear she had not unleashed her pet on purpose, and Claudia’s money was on Timoleon. Perhaps she had drugged him the way she had drugged Orbilio?

Pausing by the leopard shed, Claudia thought of her torn and bloodied tunic. Bait, to lure the cheetah, because that’s how they catch these big cats, isn’t it? By staking out an animal? This time, blood was the lure, and Cuddles didn’t care whether her gazelle walked on four legs or two.

‘Pretty kitty,’ Claudia whispered to the leopard.

She could not begin to imagine what hatred lay inside Tulola, what vitriol, but one thing was certain. Within the hour, that bitch will be spilling beans as though there was no tomorrow. Which, Claudia thought, hefting the shears, might well be the case.

‘Oh, yes, you’re beautiful, aren’t you?’