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“I don’t care.”

“Please.”

She gets hold of the gun hard enough that I’d have to fight her off to shoot. Besides, Tigger makes the choice for me. It takes a couple of low, slinky steps in my direction, then bounds at me like a black and orange Mack truck. The truth is that as much as I don’t want to lose an arm, I also like the thing. It doesn’t want to be here with these jacked-up thrill seekers. It wants to be in a mangrove swamp somewhere, eating whatever the hell it is tigers eat out there. So, when it leaps, I don’t bark a killing hex. I just blast it over us. But not too far. I don’t want to crack Tigger’s spine. Only maybe I should have. The bastard is so fast, it swings a big paw at me and hooks a claw into my right arm, ripping me from wrist to elbow. My blood hits the ground, and that just drives Tigger crazier.

A few yards past the cat a blindfolded guy is waving his hands like he’s trying to guide a jet to the passenger gangway.

“What’s going on?” he yells. “Is someone having fun without me?”

I suppose there are worse last words.

“Charlie! Run!” yells Janet.

It’s over before I can do anything to stop it. Funtime Charlie is down on his back and Tigger is dancing in his guts. He doesn’t even have time to scream.

“Do something,” shouts Allegra.

I bark more hoodoo and knock Tigger into one of the empty animal enclosures.

Then I yank the Colt away from Allegra. When I grab Janet they stare at me like I have eight eyes and a donkey tail.

“Stark?”

I drag them both into a shadow I spot near one of the overhead lights.

We come out in front of Existential Healing. While Allegra fumbles with her keys, I mumble some hoodoo, but the medicinal stuff has never been my specialty. The bleeding slows, but I’m cursing and more than a little pissed. Finally, Allegra gets the door open and we all pile into the exam room.

She bustles around getting her medical gear. I get on the exam table as Janet stands at the end looking like a scared kid who got caught shoplifting—and got someone they knew mauled by a fucking tiger.

Janet says, “Is he going to be all right?”

Allegra speaks in a clipped tone that lets everyone know she’s angry.

“He will be if you stay out of my way. Go stand in the corner over there.”

Janet does as they’re told, now looking embarrassed and anxious for me.

Allegra cleans the rip in my arm with Betadine, then moves on to one of Doc Kinski’s tricks: a blue-green salve that stops the bleeding quickly.

She says, “If this was a straight cut, the salve would close it completely. But that tiger really ripped you open. You’re going to need stitches.”

“So stitch me.”

“I could use Myrmecoleon jaws. They’re a medicinal arthropod Kinski kept. The jaws will hold the wound together. They hurt a lot more than regular stitches, but they have one advantage.”

“What’s that?”

She smiles at me.

“They don’t leave a scar.”

The rip is really starting to burn now.

“You’re fucking hilarious. You should be on TV,” I say. “Just sew me up.”

“Regular stitches it is then.”

Allegra goes to get the equipment, but she has to move Janet out of the way, scowling the whole time. When she’s back, she shoots me up with painkiller and starts sewing my arm. Janet is still in the corner, now looking equal parts guilty and queasy.