It was early evening and still warm, the sun shining softly, with a tinge of red. A perfect summer day for Washington, not a cloud to be seen--quite an oddity--and no work that needed doing. A great time for a swim.

In the pool, Diane splashed water onto her husband, laughing. "Gotcha!"

"But I've got you now!" He pounced on her and lifted her up as if to throw her.

"Diamond! Help!" she called.

"I'll save you, Momma!" came a giggling voice, right on cue. A little blond head popped up next to her father and she shoved futilely at him.

"Oh, both ganging up on me, I see!" he teased, dropping Diane for the moment and going after his daughter, who squealed as he chased her around the pool.

Diane chuckled at their antics and floated on her back, rocking in the ripples, staring at the trees swaying gently in the light wind. Suddenly she shivered and stood up in the water, frowning and intently searching the woods that started just beyond the pool deck.

Her troubled thoughts were interrupted as a sheet of water cascaded over her. Diamond sat on her father's shoulders, holding a now-empty bucket and giggling.

"Brrrr!" Diane exclaimed, wrapping her arms about her and casting a resentful glance at the bucket. "It's getting late. Why don't we go in?"

Diamond pouted. "It's still sunny!"

"But it's getting cool out. Come on, let's go in."

The little girl nodded and climbed out of the pool, squeaking at the sudden cold wind on her skin. She grabbed a towel and rushed inside.

Diane followed her daughter out of the pool, taking up her own towel and tossing one to her husband, who came to stand next to her. He hugged her tightly, returning warmth to her.

"It's not that late," he said, smiling.

She shrugged. "I don't feel like swimming any more, Simon."

He nodded, kissed her softly on the cheek, and winked. "We'd better go make sure our little gem isn't dripping on the carpets."

"All right, let's go in." But Diane paused at the door, frowning at the forest in the backyard. Not seeing anything, she shrugged her suspicions off and went inside.

The pool was empty. And as a summer breeze rippled the still water, it carried with it a low, menacing growl from the shadows.

Diane and Simon came back downstairs, hair still wet, with Diamond bouncing happily beside them. Diane started to step into the kitchen to start dinner, but she heard her mother calling from the front room.

"What now?" asked Simon with a wry twist to his mouth. They chuckled and went to answer Mattie.

A strange man stood in the front room, wearing jeans and an old, battered leather coat. His dark blond hair was tousled, clumps sticking up at odd angles, as if he'd just woken up. When the three entered, he nodded pleasantly at them and spoke with a heavy French accent.

"Bonjour, monsieur, madame, mademoiselle. My name is Frankie. And now that the entire family is here, I am afraid I have something to tell you."

Kit checked the house address and pulled into the driveway, positive that this time she'd gotten the right house. Sure enough, there was Frankie's Chevy. She parked her Eclipse right next to the beat-up old car and got out.

She peered into the Chevy, looking for something--there it was. A pet carrier with Frankie's ferret asleep inside. Kit tapped on the window, smiling when Skittles uncurled and looked at her, his black mask giving him a curious demeanor.

Moving around her car, Kit opened the trunk and with an effort, pulled out her case. Frankie never left home without his pet ferret--and Kit never left home without her case. But goodness, it was heavy. At least it had wheels.

She rolled the case up the driveway and around to the front door, noting with dismay that there were half a dozen stairs she had to climb. She dragged it up behind her, a most undignified maneuver, but at least no one was watching--the curtains in the front room were closed, she noted with approval. Frankie was no fool.

Kit knocked on the door and straightened her jacket and short brown hair. Generally people were easier to convince if you looked professional.

The door opened to reveal a little blond girl, not more than five years old. "Hello?" the child asked in a small voice.

"Hi," responded Kit warmly. "Can I talk to your parents?"

"Mom!" the girl yelled, startling Kit. "There's another one!"

Perceptive child, she thought.

A young man and woman came to the door, looking a bit pale. Kit guessed that Frankie had already begun his explanation. "Hi. I'm sort of looking for Frankie. He's here, right?"

"He is," affirmed the man guardedly. "Who are you?"

"That is Kit," came a voice she knew well. "Please may she come in?"

The man frowned slightly but nodded and helped Kit haul her case into the front room, where Kit could see the whole family was gathered: an older couple, probably the grandparents, the man and woman who had met her at the door, and the little girl who was their daughter.

"Hello, Kit. I am so pleased you could come," Frankie spoke as he took a place in front of the couch.

"Frankie, you didn't give me much information beyond that there was something here, and you wanted me to be here, too. I couldn't help it--my curiosity led me."

He grinned and nodded, his blond hair shifting with each bob. He always managed to look unkempt. Kit supposed it was part of his charm. "Here, I will introduce you. Everyone, this is Kit. She is a, how do you say, associate of mine. Kit, this is Mattie and George." The older man and woman nodded. Mattie's face held a pinched expression; she looked like she'd been shrinking for a few years now but wore high-heeled shoes to cover it up. Kit pegged her as the leader of this little family. George was definitely the benevolent grandfather type, with red hair going to gray and a thickened waistline.

"This is their daughter Diane, and her husband Simon." The pair nodded and Kit smiled at them. They were fairly young to be parents, but she liked their serious demeanor. Simon was well-muscled, had light blond hair, and from his protective stance, looked to be devoted to his family. Diane seemed shy but sweet, a trusting woman but probably too gentle to handle what was going to happen shortly.

"And this little darling is their daughter Diamondique." Kit's first thought was that Diamondique was a very pretentious name for such a small child. However, when the little girl curtsied to the new guest, she decided that the name would suit her better later in life. Still, she would bet that Mattie had named her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," she said, but Mattie and Diane had turned aside and were arguing quietly about something.

"Take her out of here," she heard the grandmother say, motioning to Diamondique, who looked confused. "She's too young to hear such things, even if it is all nonsense."

Kit cleared her throat, and the two women glanced at her. "Trust me, the girl should stay. It's best not to split up at this point. But let's not waste time here. What has Frankie told you already?"

"I have only told them that the beasts exist, and that I have tracked one of them to this property," replied Frankie quietly.

"Have you told them who we are?" Kit asked. He shook his head.

She turned to face the family, who waited expectantly.

"We are hunters."

Simon turned a suspicious frown on Kit and Frankie. "You're what?"

Kit cleared her throat, gathering her thoughts, feeling the stares of these strangers, who were obviously suspicious of the two self-proclaimed hunters that they'd let into their home. She hardly blamed them for not trusting her. But she needed to make them believe so that they would follow her instructions. And to keep them from panicking so they wouldn't try to run her off.

"Let me explain. There is a private company that has been very well-funded to research biological advances, genetic engineering. It's a popular subject, but very little of the real research is revealed to the public--only enough to keep the grant money rolling in. What's truly going on is . . . different."

"Different how?" asked Simon, a frown still on his face, gathering Diamond into his arms.

"They made a creature. I'm no scientist, I'm a hunter, I can't tell you how they made it. I just know that they used bits and pieces from many different animals to give the creature the traits they wanted. And the animals they used were all predators."

"Oh, come on," said Maddie with a scowl. "I think we'd have heard if there was some new creature that someone had created."

Kit's mouth thinned. "Obviously you haven't heard. But that was their goal. A new breed of predator. A species not controlled by laws or national regulations. And a good deal of their funding comes from the government--presumably the military is interested in using this new technology to develop biological weapons.

"The creatures the company created exceeded all hopes and expectations. They're intelligent, vicious, brutal, and incredibly good at killing."

"Why would someone make such a thing?" murmured Diane, one brow raised questioningly, the only family member who seemed at all receptive. Her mother glared at her.

"As the ultimate game. Prey that is also predator. A challenge for the human hunters, for the investors."

"Are you one of those investors?" George rumbled.

Kit closed her eyes. "Yes. I am. Much to my regret. It was my money that contributed to their creation. Because I wanted the hunt so badly."

"It is on my head, as well," said Frankie, and Kit jumped. She'd forgotten that he was there beside her. "I also invested. We are both here since the beginning."

"Why did you let these things loose, though? For your hunt?" Mattie asked with a sneer. Kit shot a glance at the old woman, guessing that she didn't really believe what she'd been told and only wanted to argue. As if her complaints would make Kit's story a lie.

"We would never have let the beasts out!" Kit said, then sighed. "They were kept in a protected ground, enclosed, cut off from the rest of the world. Only hunters were allowed in, and only hunters were allowed out--although sometimes they had to be taken out in plastic bags. But the creatures are smarter than we ever gave them credit for, smarter than we planned. They all escaped about a year and a half ago. They've been breeding, so we have no idea of their population."

"And now," said Frankie, "they are free to kill. I tracked this one first because of the report in the newspaper, of a person horribly torn apart by a wild animal. I found its spoor in your vicinity last night. You are the only family for several kilometers. I feared for you, so I am here to protect you against this beast. To take it down and add it to my trophy wall."

"Yes," said Kit, "and while we hunt, you must all leave, so that you will be safe. Go far away, into a city, where the beasts do not go." The family looked at her, expressions of shock on their faces, and she turned away from them to the other hunter. "Frankie, why did you call me here? You haven't explained that."

Frankie closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "My men, my team, they have all left me. Each said he wishes to live a life without fearing for it every second. I am alone. I wished for support, and thought of you. You were last reported in Seattle. And I had your cell phone number."

Kit smiled. She was used to working alone, but Frankie was accustomed to teamwork. Well, at least now the odds were two to one.

"I heard that you got one near London, and killed it when it wasn't even six feet away." she said to Frankie, ignoring the people sitting around them. The family shifted awkwardly, unsure, while the hunters talked.

"Yes."

"Pure luck. No way you could have done that on skill alone."

Frankie laughed momentarily, unoffended. "Part skill, part luck, then, yes?"

"Right," Kit answered with a small, wry smile. "Luck. Tell me how you did it anyway. Maybe you have some new info." They were both hunters, rivals for the prey. But at the same time they were hunted, and every bit of information shared could mean their lives.

"It was a woods, like what is around this house. At night. My men and I wore nightvision goggles." The words sounded strange to her, with his French accent. "The day before, my man had wounded it with his knife."

"Brave."

"Non, he did it by accident, flailing as he died." Kit heard Diane gasp a little, perhaps shocked by Frankie's bluntness.

"Ah."

"So it was wounded. We drove it, with many shots, to a bear trap we had hidden in the ground. The kind with metal jaws and many teeth, yes?"

"I know what you mean." Only with luck, and a beast's own unsuspecting ignorance, could they ever hope to trap the creature that way.

"Oui, so. It fell across the bear trap and was caught around the middle, and in trying to escape it tore itself open. We shot it until it died."

Kit grimaced. Not a scenario easily reconstructed, and too dependent on the beast not recognizing the trap. "Any new observations of the creature itself?"

"Non. Only that. . . ." Frankie smiled slightly and spread his hands, embarrassed. "You have heard of the loup-garou?"

"The werewolf."

"Yes. They could be killed by silver made into bullets, in stories. We tested against the beast."

"And?" she asked, almost amused. So they were to the point of believing legends.

"Nothing. No different from regular bullets."

Kit shrugged and turned away. "Too bad. That might have been--"

Simon interrupted her. "All right, now, this has gone on long enough. I want you both to leave. Now." He handed Diamond to her mother and stepped around Kit, firmly motioning her to the door.

Kit had been afraid of this. "You don't understand," she said flatly, looking him straight in the eyes.

His jaw clenched. "I understand you're crazy. You think you can come in here and tell us there's some monster around and that you're here to, what, save us--and you expect us to just believe you?"

Diane placed a hand softly on his arm, but he ignored her. Mattie declared, "He's right, you know. You must be crazy."

Simon stepped away from his wife to the door, saying, "You will leave, now."

Frankie glanced at Kit for direction, and she shrugged. "I don't think this is going too well," she told her colleague.

He gave half a grin and bobbed his head courteously to Simon. "I will leave."

Kit sighed. "I'll leave too, but--" She broke off when she heard, faintly, a crash like glass breaking. "Frankie," she said quietly, motioning slightly to him, her muscles suddenly taut with tension.

"I heard, also," he murmured.

Simon, agitated but unconcerned by the noise, took Kit by the arm and tried to pull her to the door. When she resisted, he muttered, "Damnit, will you just leave?" His fingers started digging painfully into her arm.

Kit just looked at him. "There's something out there."

"There's nothing! Tree branches against the house," he protested.

"Simon, make them leave," Mattie whined. George, looking uncomfortable, laid his hand on his wife's, but she shook him off.

"You're making a mistake here," Kit warned, shaking Simon off. He scowled at her and turned to Frankie, pushing him in the direction of the door.

Ignoring Simon's insistent actions for the moment, Kit moved to the curtained window and knelt, pulling aside the lower corner to peer out. The sun was low on the horizon, and the dim light filtered through the trees around the house, casting eerie shadows. Kit could make out her friend's car in the driveway. The rear side window was shattered. Standing, she went to the front door, peering through the peephole but seeing nothing.

"Should we check?" Frankie asked her softly, looking uncertainly at Simon and the family around them. Kit could guess that he was wishing he had his team to back him up.

Simon answered. "You should leave, that's what. I want you gone now," he ordered, yanking Frankie to the side and flinging the door open.

"No!" Kit exclaimed, leaping forward to close the door, but Frankie peered through the doorway and gasped. "Mon Dieu," he managed, falling to his knees on the doorstep.

"What? What do you see?" she asked, moving her hand to the gun hidden under her jacket in reflex. She didn't draw it, however, feeling the collective gaze of the family around her.

When Frankie didn't answer, Kit took up a stance behind him and saw on the porch the carcass of a ferret, ripped open with near surgical precision from chin to tail. No blood or viscera remained, only skin and bones. Empty eye sockets stared blankly at her.

"Ah, Skittles!" Frankie murmured, reaching to caress the bloody matted fur.

"Holy shit," Simon said quietly, staring at the dead animal, his mouth open. "Holy . . ."

Alarmed, Kit began to back farther into the house. "Frankie, get back here, close the door. He's only been dead a few minutes."

"Oui--he is still warm." Frankie's voice cracked a little at the sight of his innocent pet torn apart.

Kit's gun held ready, she scanned the trees intently. Damn, they figured out who we are! This one is taunting us just because it can. "We've got to get away from here, go somewhere more protected," she said.

"Yes, my friend, I agree." Frankie finally stood.

Kit suddenly heard the rustling of a bush and saw a shadow moving toward them.

"There! There!" Frankie shouted, drawing his pistol, a Glock 9mm.

He hadn't yet managed to aim when a blur rushed at him, covering fifteen feet in a flash. Kit could never get used to how fast the monsters could move. They had three weapons: teeth, claws, and speed.

Frankie managed to get one shot off but it went wide, pounding instead into the pavement. The thing came at him so fast, and Kit, reaching for her own gun and finally pulling off a shot, felt like she was moving in slow motion. Her bullet whistled past the creature harmlessly.

It shrieked, an unholy sound that reverberated in the unnaturally quiet air. Kit berated herself for not having recognized the silence sooner, for letting the door be opened in the first place, for having assumed that there was still time to move the family to safety.

The beast reached out and just tapped Frankie, but the man wobbled, spun in reaction. It grabbed his shoulder with one viciously clawed hand as if to steady him, but the talons dug in and dark blood rushed out.

Kit had to step to the left to aim at it, for it held the other hunter between them.

It gave another shriek, and Frankie had time to flinch before its other huge paw came down and with a lethal caress tore his spinal cord from his body.

Frankie fell to the ground, twitching, bleeding, dead. The beast shrieked again--God, how she hated that sound--and crouched, sinking teeth into Frankie's body to drag the dead hunter away.

Her breath coming in small gasps, Kit stepped slowly to the door, drawing the beast's gaze for a moment. It growled, low and deep in the back of its throat. Its hands flexed, claws digging into concrete, and she prepared to leap back if it came for her. But it just tightened its jaws around Frankie's shoulder and tugged its new meal away.

Kit wanted to shoot it, needed to, but knew that with just one gun in the growing dark she could only anger it. Not kill it.

She reached the door and slammed it shut, not bothering to lock it because the beasts would rather go through a barrier than move it. She turned to the others, all staring at her with mouths agape, holding their breath.

"It's here."

Kit rushed to the case she'd lugged into this comfortable, soft home and spun the numbers of the combination lock on top. Frankie was gone--one of the best. Just her left now to protect this innocent family, and far too late to send them away. Damn, she swore inwardly. He was my friend.

The entire family stood clustered together, staring and pale, having heard the inhuman shrieks--though only Simon had been near enough to the doorway to see the hunter killed. Finally convinced, but too late.

"Where's Frankie?" Mattie asked in a shrill voice.

"It got him," Kit responded bluntly.

"What will it do?" whispered Diane.

"Kill us, eat us, make trophies of us," said Kit flatly.

Simon hugged his daughter closer to him, looking grim, determined, and scared.

Kit's case fell open, revealing her armory: gun after gun stashed inside, ammunition lining the pockets, stuffed in the corners.

"Unless I can stop it."

She loaded her twin MP5s with a loud clack, clack. Diane jumped.

"Do you really need all that?" George asked, amazed. Kit was setting up her weaponry, making them ready.

"You brought those into our house?" demanded Mattie, drawing herself up.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you," Kit stated harshly. "These things were bred to be hard to kill. Not just hard--impossible. And mean, incredibly cruel, with a grudge against humans in particular."

"Why?"

Kit checked her weapons quickly, preparing each firearm for combat. She shrugged into her combat vest, which had pockets full of useful gear. The hunt was near. And although it wasn't her preferred method--which was stationed at a distance and filling the beasts with lead--she craved this hunt. Revenge for Frankie, for all her dead associates. Proof that the beasts were losing the war. "Why? They view humans as their creators. But they hate us for it. For our supposed superiority."

"Ungrateful children," sniffed Mattie, but her eyes were overly large with fear.

Kit found herself annoyed. "You don't know. They aren't ungrateful. They're enjoying their existence. But they enjoy their hatred, too."

During the ensuing silence Kit busied herself with her guns. She looked up when Simon handed his daughter to Diane, stepping to Kit and holding out a hand, the question in his eyes.

Kit nodded and handed him ammunition and a handgun, a SIG P228, one of the best for punching through the beasts' tough skin, despite the gun's small size. She didn't go in for the huge guns, anyhow. Those things were too heavy to lug all over the place. It was far simpler, though perhaps more time consuming, dragging the monsters down with rapid fire, weakening them through blood loss.

Too much waiting. She needed action. She allowed herself a brief moment of calm, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, she found the entire family staring at her. The hunter.

With a shrug, she lifted an MP5 from her case and stood, feeling better just having it in her hands. Come and get it.

"It's time. Be ready." Kit surveyed the room with a wince, realizing that it was far too open, difficult for her to protect. But where else could they go?

The garage. Walls of concrete, most likely, and limited access. "Let's move--" she began but was interrupted by what seemed an explosion of glass flying at them.

She ducked and heard someone scream behind her, but there was no time to check. The window was open now. And the beast leapt in, six feet straight up from the ground below, landing gracefully on all fours, about six feet in length and four feet tall at the shoulder.

No hesitation. Kit leveled her gun at it and fired, the slugs pounding into its side.

It howled and the sound reverberated through the house. With an almost human gesture, it clutched at its side where red blood flowed from an open wound.

It hissed its fury and spun wildly to face its assailant. The beast looked at her. It captivated her with eyes dark and feral, like a cat's but with more intelligence, more emotion. It grinned at her, displaying a mouthful of impressive fangs. And then it stepped to the side, its motion so swift that her eyes couldn't keep up. It reached over and almost gently latched its hideous claws, sharp enough to rend metal like silk, into George's arm. Blood dripped down, and the man froze, terrified. She could see his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"George!" Mattie cried, terrified. She flung herself backward, tripping and falling to the floor as she scuttled out of the room.

"No!" shouted Kit, firing again at the beast but missing as she tried to aim around George. This time the hunter growled her anger. She stepped to the side in a dance of death with the beast.

It saw her. It was the most indescribably evil thing she'd ever seen, its face a mask of hatred. She had hunted animals that were predators, but they were nothing like this. Not evil. This knew what it was doing--it watched her reactions, and it knew the fear, the pain, the rage. And it was so angry.

The monster glared at her, grinning that awful grin. Any second it would leap, leaving behind its human shield, because it wanted her. Kit knew. There was no way to stop it. She prepared to fire anyway--she had a powerful gun, she could deal some damage. But it would kill her no matter what. The knowledge, the complete certainty of it, sent a shiver running down her spine. But Kit stood firm.

And then Diamond started crying.

The beast paused, shifted its attention to Diane and her child. It growled, or maybe it purred, and it threw George like a toy at Kit. The hunter fell, buried beneath the older man but seeing the creature moving quickly to the tender, soft, vulnerable Diamond. Such easy prey.

Kit shoved frantically at George, desperate to get out in time to save the child, but the old man had fainted on top of her. Simon fired but his shot missed by scant inches.

Then Diane moved. With Diamondique behind her back, she dropped to a crouch and sent her foot flying out to kick the advancing monster, a motion so smooth and practiced that Kit thought, God, I think she knows what she's doing, and boy, did I underestimate her before.

Diane's foot caught the beast's right forelimb and it stumbled, just a bit, causing a momentary delay in its movements.

Kit, standing once more, did not hesitate. Neither did Simon. They fired, nearly simultaneously. Kit's shots hit the creature near the base of its tail, one of its most sensitive spots. A wound there wouldn't be critical, but she was mostly trying to distract it and keep it away from the innocents. But Simon's shot hit it across the face, the bullet grazing its nose before slamming into the side of its jaw, right where the lower bone meets the rest of the skull.

That hurt it. It shrieked, deafening them for a moment. It rocked back, sitting on its haunches and clutching its face. Blood, bright red, streamed down between its claws.

Kit took advantage of the creature's pause. She showered it with bullets, tossing aside her MP5 when it was empty and taking up a Benelli M3, slower to fire but better at close range. Simon continued to shoot at it, each bullet hitting its mark. Kit was impressed.

Each hit caused the beast to cry out in agony, lurching about the room blindly. It knocked over the television with a loud crash and caught on the edge of the doorway. Squealing, it ripped out a section of the wall.

The beast's movements were so wild, so random, that Kit missed it half the time, blowing holes in the walls. But she doubted this family minded the incidental damage. Because the other half of her shots hit it, and it was definitely weakening.

And then the beast screamed so loudly that Kit expected to hear any remaining glass shatter. She stumbled slightly, and Diane and Simon pressed their hands to their ears.

With that shriek still ringing in her ears, Kit watched the beast slip out of the room, retreating into the hallway.

"No, shit, no," she muttered, moving cautiously out of the torn-up room. If it got away, it could heal, and she would lose it. Slowly she turned about the hall. The creature was nowhere to be seen, but it was bleeding. She could track it through the house.

Simon, reloading his gun, asked quietly, "Where did it go?"

"Mother!" Diane gasped, looking at her husband. "Where did she go?"

Kit winced, remembering Mattie's terrified retreat. "I have to find where that thing went. And I hope that she's not with it."

"I'll stay here," Simon said, taking up a stance near his wife and daughter.

Kit nodded and glanced down, looking at the blood trail that led up the stairs to the second floor. She paused to take up two fresh guns, a Desert Eagle that she holstered at her waist and an AK-47 that she gripped in both hands. The beast was wounded, but she wasn't taking any chances.

She crept slowly up the stairs, ready to fire if she saw movement. The trail of blood led to a door that was left open a just crack. There was blood on the door itself, indicating that the beast had opened it from this side and tried to shut it again.

With a quick movement, Kit kicked the door open, revealing an empty bedroom. She scanned it from outside, noting the blood smeared over the bedsheets, the floor, the walls. There was no sign of Mattie or the beast, just some fresh plaster in a pile by one of the walls.

Always look up. Her trained reflexes kicked in and she glanced up to see blood drip down right before her nose. Immediately she swung her weapon up toward the source and fired, emptying her twenty-round clip, but the creature wasn't there. Digging its claws into the walls, it clung to a corner of the ceiling.

Swearing, she removed the empty clip and flipped it around, having taped a fresh clip upside down and slightly overlapping the first one for stability and ease of reloading. She shoved the second clip in, hearing it click.

Her head snapped up as she heard a low growl. In the few seconds she'd taken to reload, the beast had dropped from its position on the ceiling. It stood before her, less than three feet from her, and glared.

She brought her AK to bear on it and pulled the trigger. A hollow click-thud sounded. It had jammed.

Gasping slightly, Kit looked at the beast and saw it recognize the problem. Its upper lip lifted in a gruesome grin, and with one hand it reached out to her, grabbing her Kevlar vest and pulling her close. Its claws dug slightly into her chest, small sharp points of pain. With a long hiss, it leaned close to her and slowly, slowly settled its jaws around the left side of her neck.

She heard herself give a high-pitched moan as its teeth sank into her exposed flesh, and the beast began to pull back as if tearing off a bite. And then the thing yowled, rocking suddenly back, as her hand found her Desert Eagle and shot it in the shoulder.

It tossed her aside, slamming her into the wall, and rushed past her. Stunned both by the impact and the fact that she was still alive, she felt her neck gingerly with her free hand and knew the damage was only to the surface.

Quickly she examined her AK, working the bolt to eject the jammed bullet. She stood, feeling momentarily unsteady, then heard gunfire from downstairs. She ran to the staircase, jumping down the stairs, and saw Simon standing before his family in the living room. George had been moved to the couch, still unconscious.

"It was here," said Simon, breathing heavily, "but I shot it and it ran through there, to the kitchen." He pointed. She nodded and moved through the house again, pushing into the kitchen through a swinging door marked with blood.

Mattie was lying on the floor next to the kitchen table, but she appeared unhurt. Kit spared her barely a glance, for the beast was there, too. It stood behind a wine rack, panting, in a pool of blood. Apparently Simon had gotten in a good shot; one of the beast's eyes was missing, now just a bloody mess of a socket.

Slowly, prepared to jump back, Kit moved around the wine rack and aimed her AK. It moved, but only to slump forward, blood oozing from its wounds rhythmically, in time with its heartbeat. She knew it was finished.

It wheezed, coughed.

"Hurts, huh?" Kit said, disgusted. With the monster, with herself. With death and anger and hatred.

The beast turned away as though ashamed, hissing softly. It rolled, revealing its soft underside, and looked at her. "Please," it rasped.

Kit's vision seemed to spin. "What?" she whispered.

"Please," it said again, its voice a low growl.

"Oh, God," she murmured, and fired a burst that penetrated the exposed flesh straight to the heart. With one last nerve-rending squeal, the monster rocked back and was finally still.

Kit was silent as she stared at the beast's broken body. Finally, she slung the gun over her shoulder and called, "It's safe now."

After a few moments, Simon walked into the kitchen. Seeing the body of the beast, he grimaced and turned away. Then he gave her a long look, and said simply, "Thank you."

Kit frowned a little, then nodded and moved to Mattie. She checked the older woman for wounds, but the grandmother was untouched. Mattie stirred, blinked, and focused on Kit. Her eyes widened and she squeaked, trying to push away, so Kit stood and moved back.

Slowly Mattie pulled herself to her feet, glancing about her in dismay. "There's blood on my floor," she said.

"There's a dead thing, too," Kit muttered.

Diane cautiously stepped into the kitchen, Diamondique close behind her. A relieved look crossed the woman's face when she saw her mother. "Dad is in the front room still. I'm worried he might have had a heart attack--he's breathing okay, but we should call a doctor. His arm is bleeding, too."

"I'll go bandage him up," Mattie said firmly, quickly escaping the room. Diane watched her go with a small frown on her face. After this, Kit assumed, Mattie wouldn't be as convincing as the matriarchal head of the family.

"Call the police," Kit advised Diane, turning her attention to the matters at hand. She reached into a pocket of her vest, stained with her blood, and pulled out a bandage to apply to her neck. "The company has contacts in most police departments. Tell them only that it was a vicious animal attack, and that one person was killed by an unidentified creature. Say that two hunters were in the area and there are now two bodies to be dealt with--the animal itself and one of the hunters." She sighed, thinking of Frankie, his body perhaps hidden somewhere in the woods.

Diane went to the phone, and Kit turned to Simon. "You're a good shot," she commented and he nodded. "If you ever want to become a hunter, I'd be proud to sponsor you."

He scoffed. "I'll pass, thanks." He took a step closer to his wife and Diamond, back in her mother's arms.

Kit nodded, unoffended and unsurprised. She'd suspected as much--he was devoted.

The hunter turned her gaze to the beast's body, the prey she'd successfully killed, remembering with sudden clarity the creature's plea. "Please," she murmured aloud, considering. If they had language . . . they had human genes. The creatures' impossible intelligence wasn't so impossible, if that was true.

Frowning, Kit stepped closer. Had she seen . . . ? She thought the beast moved. "It's moving," she said, surprised, and reached again for her AK-47.

Simon abruptly shoved his wife, still on the phone, out of the way, and he and Kit both brought their weapons to bear on the beast once more.

It was moving. No--no--something inside it was moving. Its skin bulged outwards at the middle--Kit hadn't noticed before; it had been rushing around too fast, hiding its underside, the most vulnerable area.

She put her gun up and knelt, pulling a knife from a sheath in her boot. As she leaned forward, her knife crossed the unprotected belly of the creature in a few short, sharp movements. It bled sluggishly onto the ivory carpet.

Something fell out.

The something mewled pathetically. It tried to stand and failed, limbs too weak to support it.

A baby. A baby beast.

Still kneeling, without thought, Kit reached for it, took it into her arms. Its russet fur was downy soft, still damp from its unconventional birth. The eyes were sealed shut like a kitten's. It scrabbled against her hold, hand-claws that would be deadly still soft. It cried out again.

"Hush," she whispered quietly, rubbing a finger under its chin. It purred in response. It purrs, she thought in wonder. The creature was content. Even cute. What was she thinking? It was a monster.

Its eyes fluttered open. It looked at her and gurgled, twisted around in her grasp. It whined--it saw its dead mother. It recognized her?

Crying out, it turned back to Kit, buried its face in her shirt. Its small body shook as it cried.

As the little creature clung to her, trusting her, crying for its dead mother, Kit gradually realized something.

Hatred wasn't bred into them.

They weren't born hating every human. Which meant the investors, the hunters, had been told a lie.

Kit looked down at the baby, seeing the claws that hadn't yet hardened, the little puppy-teeth, the amber eyes staring up at her and filling with--were those tears?

She couldn't kill it. It might be one of them, but it wasn't like them. She would teach it. It would be hers.

It--no--Kit checked at the base of the tail. He wanted food.

She stood. "Someone get me some milk."

"What! Are you crazy?" Simon asked sharply, raising his hands as if to stop her.

"It's just a baby," Kit replied, standing and cradling the pup in her arms. Diane frowned slightly, casting an uncertain glance at the hunter.

"You can't honestly want to save it," Simon said, brows raised. "You know what it'll turn into."

"What I know," Kit declared, "is that this is a defenseless baby, and it's up to me to take care of it. What the parents and family have done do not reflect on the child. I was wrong earlier when I said they all hate humans--look at this little guy. There's no hate in him." The pup twisted in her arms, mewling.

"Mommy, it's a little baby," Diamond said, tugging on the hem of Diane's shirt. "It's like me."

The creature cocked its head to the side. "Baybay!" it mewed.

Diane and Simon gawked. "Did--did it just speak?"

Kit was nearly as surprised. Only a few minutes old, it could already repeat words. It must have a great capacity for learning. "The beast--its mother--it spoke, before I killed it. The company bred human genes into them."

"God," breathed Diane. "You can't be serious."

Simon frowned. "You aren't going to kill it?" he said, his tone more wondering than questioning.

Kit shook her head. "I'm going to raise him."

Throwing his hands up, Simon exclaimed, "Raise it? You can't possibly! These things are monsters! You told us so yourself! I don't care if you say it isn't born hating people. I saw what its mother did. It's a predator, and you can't change that."

"He's intelligent," Kit insisted. "I can teach him."

"You're crazy," Simon muttered, but his shoulders slumped.

Kit moved to the 'fridge, opening it and pulling out a carton of milk. In a clumsy attempt to feed the baby, she lifted the carton to pour milk into the pup's mouth, but ended up spilling milk on him.

"Baybaybay!" he whined, licking milk from his fur.

Diane rummaged through a cupboard and pulled out a baby bottle, giving it to Kit. Gratefully, Kit took the bottle, filling with milk from the carton. She attached the nipple and held against the pup's mouth.

"They won't let you keep him, will they? Your company?" Simon asked, trying once more.

"All hunters sign a contract when they join that says we can take any trophy we like from the beasts. He's my trophy. It's our tangible reward for all the money we've invested. It's all in my contract."

"Dear God!" Kit heard, and turned to see Mattie and the now awake and bandaged George in the kitchen doorway. "What is that thing?"

"He's mine," she said flatly.

"You can't possibly think to keep that!" Mattie exclaimed.

"Mother," Diane said tiredly. "Go into the other room and take care of Dad."

"Well, I never," Mattie scoffed. But she obeyed, leading her dazed husband to the next room.

"Look," said Simon. "We're very grateful for . . . what you've done." He motioned to the still form of the beast, lying on the floor. "But you'll have to leave."

"All right," she responded simply. "After the police get here. I assume you'll let me make sure my friend's . . . body is taken care of properly?"

Simon flushed slightly, but nodded.

Still carrying the pup in her arms, Kit strode to the front room to pack up her case. She carefully set the pup on the couch with the bottle while she sorted through her weapons. Diane and Simon, having followed her into the room, watched silently, somber.

As Kit finished packing away her guns, she heard vehicles pulling into the driveway. She sat down on the couch with the pup, who snuggled into her lap, full and content.

"What's his name?" Diamond asked in a small voice.

Kit was startled. She hadn't considered it. But now that she did, one name popped into her mind. "He's Frankie."

It was difficult for Kit, a hunter, to believe in a god. A higher power. Seeing creation, as it were, at the hands of man--she could not look at the beasts and believe in any deity.

But she could look at this baby and believe in--something. Not god. Fate, maybe, or good fortune. Because, despite all the lead she'd put into its mother, this baby had survived with not a scratch on it.

And because it felt right. Kit would no longer be a hunter--she would be a teacher, using her knowledge to educate the pup and other people about the truth. And Frankie would teach her, too, and together maybe they could change the relations between man and beast.

It would all work out.

Luck and skill.