Chapter Text
Martín had always known this was how he was going to die.
Well, not like this particularly. He didn't imagine the clear quiet night, nor the dense rainforest, nor the deep bleeding gashes across his arm and side. But he had always known he would die at the claws of some monstrous creature and that it wouldn't be pretty. After all, that was the doom of men like Martín; you could tangle with spirits and hunt down the beasts that lurk in the dark so much before death bored out of your luck and claimed you.
He stumbled across the forest blindly, his clumsy feet barely keeping him up and pushing him forward - mindlesly forward, the only destination in his head being simply away from the creature behind him. He eventually tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground gracelessly. He gasped for air, trembling covered in cold sweat, and clenched his teeth as he closed his eyes tightly. With the last of his strength, he dragged himself across the wet jungle floor grunting in pain and exhaustion. He managed to crawl up to a wide old tree, where he found somewhat of a shelter between its roots and the vines that strangled its log.
He managed to sit up and while he held his injured side with a bloodied hand, he tried to catch his breath. Every intake of air made him hiss in pain as fire seared through the wounds on his side. He didn’t dare check on them - wouldn’t be able to throughtfully inspect them anyways in the darkness - but he felt warm fresh blood soaking through his torn shirt and coat.
He sighed and raised his head to the night sky. He should have been thankful, he supposed. Whoever was in charge above seemed to have taken mercy on him. Bleeding out alone in the jungle was a peaceful way to part from the living for men like Martín.
He trusted Luciano would end the job, would kill the thing they had been hired to kill and avenge Martín in the process. Martín had already done his part of the plan - even if the creature had caught him and stabbed him with its sharp claws while doing so - and while he wouldn't make it to the trap they had laid for the monster, he could count Luciano would do fine on his own. He would probably be furious at Martín for dying on the job, but that just came with the business.
Martín let out another sigh, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t feel his legs and the tip of his fingers were starting to go numb. His body shivered in cold and in exhaustion, and the forest around him spun when he opened his eyes.
He was not sure how long he laid nested between the tree’s roots and vines. He might have passed out for all he knew. But he snapped alert when he heard rustling of leaves above his head. With great effort, he opened his eyes and reached for the old revolver holstered in his belt.
A shadow slid from the darkness and gracefully dropped to the ground from the treetops in a silent thump. Two eyes stared intently at him, two pits of golden fire flaming in the darkness of the night.
Under the white moonlight that spilled through the thick vegetation, Martín made out the shape of a jaguar. Except he knew it was not an ordinary animal. It was too big, its eyes far too intelligent, uncannily clever for a beast. The creature sniffed the air and its glance instantly shot to Martín’s bleeding side. It bared its massive fangs and let out a low angry hiss.
“Hi,” Martín gave the beast a weak lopped smile, unafraid.
The jaguar responded with another vicious snarl, and then it turned into a man.
“I fucking knew it,” Luciano spat, dark eyes blazing with anger. He rushed and knelt by Martín’s side, took his face between his warm hands and cradled his face. “Dammit, Martín, I can’t leave you alone for a second...”
Martín sighed, content with the warmth irradiating from Luciano. He was completely naked, except for the mottled jaguar pelt wrapped around his shoulders and trailing down his back, which did little to cover him and his modesty. Martín couldn’t say he minded - in his opinion, this improved his dying scenario a far lot.
“You've left a blood trail through half the forest,” Luciano snapped furiously as he fumbled with forceful hands through Martín’s clothes to look at his wounds. “I could smell you from fucking kilometres. ”
“Do I smell appetizing?” Martín teased weakly.
“Yes,” Luciano said without a drop of humour.
Martín huffed a little breathless laugh and let out a low hiss when Luciano prodded at his wounded side, pulled ripped cloth from torn flesh as gently as possible.
“Great,” Luciano mumbled furiously to himself. “Just great, honestly, look at this shit, you-you don’t dare pass out on me, Martín, God help me. ”
Martín opened his eyes slowly - when had he closed them? - and was met with very angry dark eyes. For a moment, a dangerous golden spark glistened in the back of Luciano’s pupils, wild and unnatural.
“I’m awake,” he answered in a whisper.
Luciano cursed again, but this time it wasn’t directed at Martín. He shook his head, defeated, and took the jaguar pelt hanging down his back off. He wrapped it around Martín, who immediately protested.
“Luciano…” he mumbled.
“You need it more than I do,” Luciano answered.
Shredding his pelt off wouldn't kill him, but it did leave Luciano completely vulnerable, stuck in his softest weakest form. A moment apart from it wouldn’t do much, but without his pelt he would grow fainter and fainter as time went by, for it was the source of his strength if also his Achilles’ heel. On top of all that, Martín knew that it hurt - Luciano was not supposed to tear away from his second skin.
As weak as Martín was, it was hard to argue with Luciano. The pelt felt burning hot against his cold skin, way too heavy to be just an animal skin. Martín found the weight comforting, familiar even. He might have blamed it on the lack of blood going up his brain, but he could have sworn he also felt it beat steadily as if it was alive and had a heart of its own.
Martín couldn’t help to sigh in relief. Whatever magic this pelt had, it was a strong one; he already could feel some strength returning to his drained muscles, the ache all around his body easing away. As nausea took over him and the edges of his vision went dark, he only wished it could also do something about all the blood he had lost.
“We need to get you the hell out of here,” Luciano whispered. “It'll be faster if I turn back and I carry you on my back. Do you think you can ride me?”
Martín laughed at him, weak and delirious and bordering hysterical.
“Not without some sort of lubrication, no...” he answered.
Luciano spat a curse at him.
“Of all the hunters I've had the misfortune to meet, you gotta be the most infuriating,” he accused in a frustrated hiss.
“You don’t mean that,” Martín replied quietly. He added then as if to remind Luciano; “You love me.”
“I do,” Luciano replied. He held Martín’s stare with very serious eyes. “And if you die on me, I’m hiring a witch to summon the fuck out of your spirit and to seal you into some stinky stupid cockroach for me to keep in a jar in my pocket to torture for eternity.”
“You wouldn’t,” Martín frowned at him.
“Try me,” Luciano threatened darkly.
Martín opened his mouth to complain, but Luciano raised a hand in warning. He tilted his head in a gesture Martín recognised due to months of working together - he heard something Martín’s human senses had yet to pick up on. It took a few quiet moments before Martín heard it too: a slow rhythmic thumping and loud heavy breathing. Next came the putrid smell, and before their eyes a creature emerged from the shadows of the night.
Even standing on its four legs, it towered over them, a giant beast covered in thick dark hair. It moved unnervingly slow and heavy and it walked on its knuckles much like an anteater, unable to stand over its unreasonably long curved claws.
The sight of those familiar claws - smeared in Martín’s red fresh blood - sent a rush of adrenaline and cold fear through Martín’s veins. Luciano’s warm hand reached for Martín’s - and he realised with surprise that he had unconsciously reached for his gun.
“Don’t,” Luciano warned quietly in a low stern voice.
The beast stood on its hind legs, raised its flat face to the sky and sniffed the air loudly. It let out a low pleased rumble, and then a massive panting mouth opened widely on its stomach. Martín couldn’t hold back his cough and he covered half of his face as his eyes watered at the black pit’s foul stench of dead meat and rotten teeth. The creature’s small black eyes locked in him, hungry and voidless, and Martín’s grasp tightened around his gun like his life depended on it.
Not without some effort, Luciano carefully plucked the pistol out of Martín’s hold.
“Don’t do anything stupid, ok?” Luciano asked with a far too gentle voice.
Before Martín could demand what he meant, Luciano took his pelt back, wrapped it around his bare shoulders and rose to his feet.
“Wait,” Martín called urgently, tried to cling to Luciano’s warm hand as his fingers slipped away from his hold. “Don’t-Leave. Just leave, Luciano…”
Bare and fearless, Luciano took a step forward and stood between Martín’s helpless form and the beast.
“Leave,” he ordered gravely.
The creature didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even look in his direction. It stared at the wounds Martín uselessly tried to cover with his hand, like blood wasn’t dripping between his fingers. Like this things couldn’t smell it.
Luciano let out a low warning hiss, an startlingly inhuman sound. It was enough to catch the creature’s attention; it turned its head slowly and reluctantly tore its dull eyes from Martín to meet Luciano’s.
“I said leave,” Luciano said, loud and authoritative. He tilted his chin up in defiance. “He's mine.”
The thing let out a low angry grumble. It didn’t back down and neither did Luciano.
The last thing Martín saw before unconsciousness took him over was a blur of mottled yellow as Luciano pounced at the beast with bare claws and fangs.
Then, with the sound of wild growling and furious snarling, the world went black.