Panther Curse Read online

  I held Ashley's gaze but didn’t know what to say. What could I tell her? So this panther, which wasn’t a panther but more like a panther man, bit and infected me with some ancient curse…

  Ashley leaned closer, and now I could smell a faint hint of lavender. Not perfume but just the scent of her soap. I felt my whole body stiffen, and the hairs on my neck rose.

  Ashley reached for my hand, the contact electric.

  She handed me a few twenty-dollar bills, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “I know you can’t tell me what happened. But I trust you, Erik. You’re a good man. And you will need some cash to get home or wherever you’re going. Be careful out there.”

  Somehow, she knew I was in deep-shit trouble.

  At first, I wanted to refuse the cash, but she was right. It would help me navigate the city. I couldn’t keep jogging around town all day long like some triathlete high on cocaine. I needed to get to the library, pronto, and that meant hailing a cab.

  “Promise to call me before the day is over to let me know everything is okay? I’m going to be worried sick otherwise.”

  Wow, she truly was a darling.

  “I promise, Ashley. Thank you for everything.”

  I squeezed Ashley’s hand, and to my surprise, I gave her a light peck on the cheek. You don’t want to know how often I’d imagined doing this in the past.

  “I get it, kid. You like her. Now could we please get on with this business?”

  I nodded and left Ashley’s apartment with a heavy heart.

  Little did I know that this brief physical contact between us would soon pull her into my nightmare.

  8

  The bus stopped near the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library. As I got off the bus and rounded the corner, I was having a lively inner dialogue with my newest best friend. Anyone looking at me must have thought I was off my meds.

  “So break it down for me,” I said. “How often will turn into a big cat? You sure it’s not dependent on the full moon?”

  “Not completely,” the warlock said, unable to hide his impatience. Shifters 101 sure wasn’t the warlock’s favorite topic. Kolvak sounded like he was being forced to explain astrophysics to a grade schooler.

  “On a full moon, you change. On other nights it’s optional, but it’s better if you let out the beast on a nightly basis. The more you try to contain him, the stronger his hunger for blood becomes.”

  “Good to know. Can I change during daytime hours?”

  “It’s easier to transform at night than during the day. It’s possible, but I advise against it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The panther hunts best at night. Besides, you don’t want to draw undue attention to yourself.”

  “Makes sense,” I admitted.

  “As you become more comfortable with the act of transformation, you’ll shift much faster, and it will become far less painful.”

  Finally, some good news. I recalled the terrible agony I endured during my previous transformation. Reverting to my human form had been a lot easier, but it was good to know that the pain would get better. Kind of like physical therapy, now that I thought of it.

  “Once you get the hang of it, you'll be able to transform at will. In time, you may even change parts of your body while the rest of you remains human.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Sometimes, you may need to draw on the panther’s strength without having him surface. You’ll figure it out.”

  I hope so, I thought as I entered the library. I took in the walls of books, my former haven from the real world now filled with menace and danger. Reality had invaded these hallowed halls and tainted them. This is where the beast had sunk its teeth into my body and infected me with its dark curse.

  I was back where the nightmare had begun.

  I smiled at the receptionist, hoping my thoughts didn’t show on my face. Thankfully, it was a different lady from last night. I would’ve hated having to explain how I’d healed up so fast. Even without an ID, the lady behind the desk recognized me from earlier visits and flashed me a smile. I guess she hadn’t heard what had happened to Dr. Cross the other night. I quickly asked about Mason, dread able to contain the dread in my voice.

  I let out a sigh of relief when the receptionist told me that he was okay and was taking the day off. She had clearly not heard any details about what had happened the other nor had any cops visited the library. The League must have removed all evidence of the violent incident, including the body of the slain werepanther.

  “The League is quite skilled at avoiding attention from both the authorities and the media. Like the monsters they hunt, they are quite adept at operating in the shadows.”

  No shit, I thought. Walking through the library, it seemed like the other night hadn’t happened.

  Stepping back into the archives, I recalled the panthers chasing after me and shuddered. Funny how I could be a monster and yet still shiver at the thought of being at the mercy of these weres. Thinking about the horrors of the last night gave rise to another thought.

  “So I guess I can turn into a full-blown panther too?”

  “It takes more practice, more energy, but in time you’ll master a complete transformation. If you stay alive long enough.”

  “That's what I'm trying to do,” I grumbled. “Anybody ever tell you that you’re a terrible cheerleader?”

  I turned right at the next bookshelf, retracing my steps from the night of the attack. Fear had propelled me forward through the stacks of books and papers. Now curiosity drove me.

  I slowed down as I drew closer to the globe where I’d hidden the book. Would it still be there? What if the League of Light or the Followers of Bastet had located the text and removed it from my makeshift hiding place?

  No point dwelling on the possibilities—I’d know soon enough.

  I stepped up to the large wooden globe. Hesitated for a beat, then popped it open. My eyes went wide.

  The book was gone.

  “Looking for something?”

  I whirled and came face to face with… Natalia Creed.

  The monster hunter was pointing a gun at me.

  My body responded on its own. No, correction: the beast was reacting to the danger and surfaced. I watched with a mixture of fear and amazement as my hands morphed into paws sporting hooked black claws.

  Kolvak had been telling the truth. The second time around, there was a lot less pain. Before I could strike the pistol out of Natalia’s hand, she squeezed the trigger.

  There was the muffled Pffft and a beat later, I was staring down at a dart sticking from my chest. My features twisted with rage, and my paws reverted into human hands even as I clawed the air in fury.

  I took a weak step backward and pulled out the dart before tossing it to the carpeted floor.

  I glared at Natalia. Had that been a tranquilizer dart or something worse? I received an answer to that question a second later.

  “The paralyzing agent is laced with low-level silver nitrate. It will slow someone like you down without killing you.”

  I staggered backward on wobbly legs. The ground beneath me tilted and swayed, and I leaned against a bookshelf to maintain my balance.

  “I’m sorry to resort to such measures, Erik, but I want to talk to the human part of you without having to fight the beast.”

  “You got my full attention,” I hissed. My body was weak, but my mind was still working.

  Natalia took a step toward me and removed the book from her coat. Surprise, surprise. These League jerks had searched the library and found their prize. So what did Natalia still want from me? Why use a paralyzing agent when she could have easily put a silver bullet in the back of my head?

  The silver nitrate was making it exceedingly hard to think, but the answer still came to my mind: I was alive because they still needed me to translate the damn text. I might be a monster, but I was also useful to the League. As soon as I gave them what they wa
nted, they’d eliminate me the same way they’d executed my father.

  I would play along, for now, buy myself some time, and make my move when I had a chance…

  The thought trailed off as my legs gave in, and I collapsed on the floor. Natalia’s footsteps sounded strangely amplified as she closed in. She kneeled down in front of me and looked right into my eyes.

  “You saved my life, Erik. I owe you.”

  “You sure have a funny way of expressing your gratitude,” I mumbled through numb lips.

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

  Good point. The question was for how long?

  “I’m sorry I pulled you into this shit, Dr. Cross. I had no idea the Followers of Bastet knew of our presence in Los Angeles. I have since learned they tortured and killed an… an associate of mine.”

  Her voice was laced with emotion. The associate had meant something to Natalia. A close friend, maybe more?

  “Who is Santara?” I asked

  “She is the leader of the Followers of Bastet and the creature who bit you.”

  My face darkened. I had suspected that much.

  Natalia inched closer, sadness and regret etched in her beautiful features. She truly appeared conflicted about what she was doing here.

  “I know you see me as your enemy, and you’re not wrong. The beast that now dwells inside of you knows all too well how many of his kind we’ve put down over the centuries.”

  “So why…why didn’t you just kill me?”

  Natalia’s eyes sparkled in the dark library, almost as if possessed by a beast herself. She’d be a hawk, though, or an eagle.

  “You saved my life. I couldn’t kill an innocent who hadn’t yet turned.”

  “So you got me to the hospital?”

  Natalia nodded.

  I considered this for a moment. “Why send the goon squad after me?”

  “I tried to convince Cutter that the hospital assault was a bad idea, but he wouldn’t listen to me. The man is a great general, but he takes no prisoners and only sees this fight in black and white. Any supernatural creature, even one who can help us, has to be put down.”

  “He sounds like a swell guy,” I muttered into the carpet. I forced myself to focus on Natalia even as the poison turned my limbs to lead and my brain to mush. “Guess that means you’re not the one in charge, huh?”

  Natalia shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  The pieces were coming together in my mind. Natalia had spared me, but this Cutter fellow apparently had no qualms about putting me down. Was she going rogue even now by helping me? And, more importantly, did that mean she might eventually let me go free?

  The monster hunter leaned even closer, and a lock of hair slipped forward to frame her features, softening her serious expression.

  “I saw how you faced down the panther the other night, how you risked your life with only a cane as a weapon. I couldn’t put a bullet in a man who risked his life to save me and paid the ultimate price for it.”

  “Trust me; I would do things differently now.”

  To my surprise, a faint, almost sad smile lit up Natalia’s face. “I can’t blame you.”

  “What happens now?” I said, the words becoming harder to form as the toxin raced through my body. I couldn’t feel my limbs any longer, and my eyelids were growing heavy.

  “I need you to translate the text,” she said, confirming my suspicions.

  I wanted to knock the gun from Natalia’s hands, but my arms refused to obey my brain’s commands. The full effects of the silver nitrate were kicking in now. At this rate, I would lose consciousness in a minute, maybe less.

  “The future of our species is at stake,” Natalia insisted as if sensing my hesitation.

  I took a ragged breath, struggling to remain coherent as the poison roared through my system.

  “Gotta give me a little more than that,” I said, slurring my words.

  “I’m afraid you no longer have a choice in this matter, Dr. Cross. I belong to an organization that has been at war with monsters for centuries. This book could be the key to winning that war.”

  I tried to act surprised. I didn’t want Natalia to realize that I knew more about her organization than I should. Best if she didn’t suspect I was getting help from a dead warlock. The League of Light would probably want to melt Kolvak’s medallion down for scrap.

  “The Followers of Bastet want to control humanity,” she continued. “We can’t let that happen. One way or another, Dr. Cross, you’ll help us decipher this text. I wish things could be different. I really do.”

  So did I. That made two of us.

  I closed my eyes for a beat, the sedative making the lids heavy. When I opened them again, I saw another shadow behind Natalia. A tall man wearing a green Army jacket was staring down at me. His face was a giant mass of pink scars. Studying him, I realized the webbed scar tissue formed four parallel lines across one side of a once handsome face.

  I had seen a similar set of scars on the face of a man who’d survived a Grizzly attack. The man had written a book about his harrowing brush with death and had done a lecture at the University, where I had the privilege to shake his hand.

  My gut told me a werepanther had tried to cut the monster hunter’s face to bloody ribbons. And he was eager to return the favor.

  That was the last thought going through my mind before the world turned black.

  9

  My eyes snapped open, and the dark veil lifted. A moment of disorientation, then an unpleasant burning sensation all over my body.

  I looked down and saw chains running across my legs, arms, and chest which restrained me to a metal chair. My shackles appeared to be the source of the pain.

  “Silver chains,” Kolvak said with an appreciative whistle. “The League leaves nothing up to chance.”

  My luck.

  My attention turned from the chains to my surroundings. I found myself in a warehouse-like loft space with a high ceiling. Red sunlight seeped in through a series of grime-caked windows and a large skylight. Judging by the color of the light, hours must have passed since Natalia had shot me with the tranquilizer.

  Nightfall was upon us, but I didn’t think I could shift while wrapped up in silver.

  My eyes cut through the loft’s shadows and locked on the circle of armed men and women that lurked there. For a bunch of guys who called themselves the League of Light, they sure seemed to enjoy hanging out in the dark. They all wore thick body armor under their military jackets and khakis.

  A tall, muscular badass clad in a black peacoat kept a rifle leveled straight at my head. Even if through some amazing Houdini trick I should break free of the chains, I would receive a silver bullet to the head for my efforts.

  Not exactly encouraging.

  My eyes landed on Natalia, who stood at the center of this crowd of hunters. Her expression remained unreadable, which didn’t bode well for what lay ahead.

  I made out heavy-set footsteps behind me. My glance darted to the wooden, dust-covered floor, and I made out a large shadow wielding a mean-looking machete. A second later, the blade appeared in front of me, hovering inches from my neck.

  The beast stirred but was unable to chase away the mortal terror I felt. Beheading was way down on my list of ways I wanted to die. I caught a glimpse of my terrified reflection in the gleaming machete, the blade cast from pure silver judging by the way it made my skin prickle.

  “Look alive, buddy,” Kolvak’s voice said in my mind. “I know you’re scared, but they aren’t going to kill you…yet.”

  I looked down at my chest, and relief flooded me when I spotted the pendant. No one had thought to remove the necklace while I was out for the count. Transforming into a monster was bad, but the thought of losing control—of the beast taking over my mind—terrified me.

  The man wielding the fearsome machete started to talk, his deep, intelligent voice inspiring both fear and respect with little effort. As he circled the chair, I caught a good loo
k at the guy. It was none other than Scarface himself. The man Natalia had called Cutter.

  “Do you know who I am?” the scarred man asked.

  “You’re the guy who runs the asylum?”

  I wanted to pull the words back as soon as I said them. Once a smartass, always a smartass—but I had enough sense not to piss this guy off. The beast was itching for a fight, and the panther didn’t care if I lost my head. I envied the creature. It had to be quite liberating to go through life without a single care for the consequences of one’s actions or words.

  Cutter’s face registered zero emotion as he brought down the machete inches from my face. With a loud thunk, the blade cut into the wooden floor, stirring up swirls of dust that shimmered in the fading light.

  Cutter leaned closer, and I realized one of his eyes was a milky white. The werepanther had not merely taken off a good chunk of his face but had also claimed half his sight.

  No wonder this guy carried a giant chip on his shoulder when it came to supernatural creatures.

  “I see the fear in your eyes. The beast hasn’t completely consumed your soul. You’re still part human, Dr. Cross, but it’s only a matter of time before you succumb to the curse.”

  I considered for a split-second telling Cutter about the controlling magic of the pendant and Kolvak but quickly decided against it. Better to keep my cards close to the vest for now.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Cutter said. “You think that maybe you can fight this thing, maybe your big brain can tame the savage creature whose blood now roars through your veins. Perhaps you’re praying there is a cure, some way out of this nightmare. The truth is, there is only one way to save your immortal soul.”

  Cutter gripped his machete a little tighter, the implication clear.

  I held the man’s simmering gaze. Cutter would have perfectly fit in with the Spanish Inquisition.

  “Thanks for the pep talk, bud. Make sure to never apply for a job at a suicide hotline.”

  A sardonic grin played over Cutter’s Halloween mask features.

  “I know you’re scared, and humor is a way to keep that fear under control. I respect that. But jokes won’t change your reality. Death is your only way out; your only chance at saving yourself.”