your hands by your sides.”
Again Blaine did as he was told. He found the chair with the back of his legs and slowly settled into it. The big cat advanced a bit, staying a lunge away.
“I’m going to leave you briefly. Rise from that chair and she’ll tear you apart. Move your hands from the arms and she’ll tear you apart. She won’t move so long as you don’t.”
Lydia Brandywine kept her eyes on him as she glided past, the gun clutched in her hand, no longer seeming as old. She petted the panther’s head on the way out. There was no phone in this room and Blaine figured she was moving to another to summon reinforcements. More of the men behind the attack on 47th Street, no doubt, and they’d be on their way here in minutes.
The cat snarled again, stretching its lips wide to show its teeth and whipping its long tail from side to side. Blaine knew he could not possibly move before it was upon him. Panthers were in many respects the most dangerous jungle cats, the best fighters, and the most precise killers. He was certainly no match for Kitty, even though he might have been able to disarm the woman. Once she returned, though, there’d be two forces to contend with. So if he was going to move it had to be fast. But how?
He remembered he still had the tranquilizer pistol loaded with one more dart in his right pocket. If he could extract it and fire before the big cat was upon him… . No, even if he scored a perfect hit, the panther would have the second it needed to find his throat. Blaine had to buy himself that second, as well as shoot.
He knew Kitty would lunge at the first sign of motion. But if the motion was deceptive it might be fooled long enough for the tranquilizer to work. Blaine heard Lydia Brandywine’s voice speaking to someone over a phone. He knew the conversation wouldn’t last much longer.
Blaine braced his legs. He was depending on the big cat to be just as quick and deadly as legend had it, so when it attacked he could make the lunge work in his favor. He pushed his legs hard on the floor and tossed his body backward, giving the chair all his weight. As expected, it toppled over. The cat lunged but failed to adjust to his tumble backward. Its leap carried it short, buying him the second he needed.
The tranquilizer gun was in his hand, and he fired as the cat regained its footing and came for him. The slightest fumble would have meant death, but the dart shot out with a fssssssst and thudded into the animal’s extended shoulders. The cat didn’t falter and kept coming. The huge jaws opened wide and lowered over him, teeth bared and breath hot and dripping, and he closed his eyes in terror, latching on to the beast’s throat instinctively.
But the panther was already limp with the weight of unconsciousness. Blaine heard Lydia Brandywine’s heels clicking fast for the library and lurched back to his feet. She had his gun and he was out of darts. He had another weapon, though.
As she crossed through the double doors, McCracken hoisted the sleeping panther up by its neck and let its feet dangle above the floor. It took all his strength and he felt his shoulders popping from the strain. Lydia Brandywine lurched into the room and steadied the gun with both hands a dozen feet before him.
“The gun’s a Brin-10, Mrs. Brandywine,” Blaine said ever so calmly. “Packs quite a wallop. Difficult to keep steady. You might get lucky but then again you might not. Kitty’s only stunned now but miss your first shot and I’ll break her neck. Miss your second and I’ll break yours.”
“No!” the old woman screamed, more out of concern for the cat than herself.
“I’m an animal lover myself, Mrs. Brandywine. Never think of harming one unless I have to. She’s just sleeping now. Still breathing,” he said, making sure to display the contracting chest. “See? But that will change if you don’t drop the gun and slide it over here.”
Lydia Brandywine’s old hands shook uncontrollably
Again Blaine did as he was told. He found the chair with the back of his legs and slowly settled into it. The big cat advanced a bit, staying a lunge away.
“I’m going to leave you briefly. Rise from that chair and she’ll tear you apart. Move your hands from the arms and she’ll tear you apart. She won’t move so long as you don’t.”
Lydia Brandywine kept her eyes on him as she glided past, the gun clutched in her hand, no longer seeming as old. She petted the panther’s head on the way out. There was no phone in this room and Blaine figured she was moving to another to summon reinforcements. More of the men behind the attack on 47th Street, no doubt, and they’d be on their way here in minutes.
The cat snarled again, stretching its lips wide to show its teeth and whipping its long tail from side to side. Blaine knew he could not possibly move before it was upon him. Panthers were in many respects the most dangerous jungle cats, the best fighters, and the most precise killers. He was certainly no match for Kitty, even though he might have been able to disarm the woman. Once she returned, though, there’d be two forces to contend with. So if he was going to move it had to be fast. But how?
He remembered he still had the tranquilizer pistol loaded with one more dart in his right pocket. If he could extract it and fire before the big cat was upon him… . No, even if he scored a perfect hit, the panther would have the second it needed to find his throat. Blaine had to buy himself that second, as well as shoot.
He knew Kitty would lunge at the first sign of motion. But if the motion was deceptive it might be fooled long enough for the tranquilizer to work. Blaine heard Lydia Brandywine’s voice speaking to someone over a phone. He knew the conversation wouldn’t last much longer.
Blaine braced his legs. He was depending on the big cat to be just as quick and deadly as legend had it, so when it attacked he could make the lunge work in his favor. He pushed his legs hard on the floor and tossed his body backward, giving the chair all his weight. As expected, it toppled over. The cat lunged but failed to adjust to his tumble backward. Its leap carried it short, buying him the second he needed.
The tranquilizer gun was in his hand, and he fired as the cat regained its footing and came for him. The slightest fumble would have meant death, but the dart shot out with a fssssssst and thudded into the animal’s extended shoulders. The cat didn’t falter and kept coming. The huge jaws opened wide and lowered over him, teeth bared and breath hot and dripping, and he closed his eyes in terror, latching on to the beast’s throat instinctively.
But the panther was already limp with the weight of unconsciousness. Blaine heard Lydia Brandywine’s heels clicking fast for the library and lurched back to his feet. She had his gun and he was out of darts. He had another weapon, though.
As she crossed through the double doors, McCracken hoisted the sleeping panther up by its neck and let its feet dangle above the floor. It took all his strength and he felt his shoulders popping from the strain. Lydia Brandywine lurched into the room and steadied the gun with both hands a dozen feet before him.
“The gun’s a Brin-10, Mrs. Brandywine,” Blaine said ever so calmly. “Packs quite a wallop. Difficult to keep steady. You might get lucky but then again you might not. Kitty’s only stunned now but miss your first shot and I’ll break her neck. Miss your second and I’ll break yours.”
“No!” the old woman screamed, more out of concern for the cat than herself.
“I’m an animal lover myself, Mrs. Brandywine. Never think of harming one unless I have to. She’s just sleeping now. Still breathing,” he said, making sure to display the contracting chest. “See? But that will change if you don’t drop the gun and slide it over here.”
Lydia Brandywine’s old hands shook uncontrollably
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