Panther Curse Page 8

  The man’s voice shook with religious fervor as he spoke. He looked the part of a fanatic…but could I really blame him? Perhaps Cutter was right; perhaps I was hell-bound, a creature of darkness doomed to an eternity of suffering.

  The blood of Bastet turned good men and women into creatures that preyed upon humans, transformed them into murderers and monsters. It was only natural to assume such a change would come at the expense of one’s soul.

  Was I truly the bad guy here? I didn’t feel evil…but maybe I was so far gone I didn’t know the difference? My mind flashed back to Ashley’s apartment, how I’d eaten the raw steak and still hungered for more.

  Another grin twisted Cutter’s grotesque visage. He could sense his words were getting to me.

  “You know I’m speaking the truth, don’t you?”

  I glared at him. “Then why keep dragging this shit out? If there is no hope, then why don’t you end this right here and now?”

  “I need something from you, Dr. Cross. Before I can release you from this unholy existence, I want you to tell me why the weres are after the Codex.”

  Cutter removed a familiar leather-bound book from his military-style green jacket.

  The Reign of the Beast. The beach read of the year—not.

  The monster hunter placed the ancient text on the table in front of me and flipped it open to the first page.

  "We need to know why the information contained within these pages is so important to the were.”

  I stared at the book, my heart empty. The Codex was the only reason I was still breathing. And if I cracked the medieval code, I would only have death to look forward to.

  Cutter’s grave expression bored into me as spoke again. “I know I’m asking much from a condemned man. Solve the puzzle, and you sign your death sentence. But you'll be saving your soul.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Cutter's gaze fixed on me, eager to explain himself.

  "You haven’t taken a life yet, Erik. The men you attacked at the hospital are all alive. Your humanity fought the worst impulses of the beast, and you spared my men."

  I had a little help with that but kept the information to myself.

  Cutter leaned closer. His scarred features both mesmerizing and horrifying at the same time.

  “I could almost respect you. I've never seen anyone resist the curse the way you have. But it's only a matter of time before you succumb to the darkness. The beast will defeat you, twist your best intentions, and turn them against you.”

  Cutter’s voice rose in intensity and took on a dramatic edge. I wondered if he’d practiced this speech in the mirror.

  “You can’t win this battle, doctor. But you can help us win the war.”

  Cutter turned away from me and sheathed the silver machete in a leather scabbard he wore around his waist.

  “I swear you won’t suffer. I’ll make it quick and painless.”

  I tried being flippant to avoid breaking down in front of these fanatics and start begging for my life. “Newsflash: Being decapitated by a giant machete isn’t my idea of a swift and painless exit from this world.”

  Cutter ignored me, but I saw Natalia flinch. She wasn’t on board the “Let’s Brutally Murder Erik Train.” Hopefully, I could use that to my advantage.

  I shifted my attention back to the leather-bound vellum. It was almost dark now, and I couldn’t see jack shit.

  “Can I at least get a little light?” I asked. “This manuscript won’t illuminate itself.”

  Nobody seemed to get my medieval history pun. Tough crowd. One of the monster hunters used the flashlight on his cellphone to shine a small circle of light on the faded parchment.

  I took in the jumble of four different languages. Hebrew, Aramaic, Coptic, and Demotic all vied for my undivided attention.

  From my earlier examination of the text, I knew the manuscript contained one-hundred-and-forty pages of bound vellum. There were foldouts which had long gone missing and gaps in the page numbers and evidence showing the Codex had been rebound over the years, suggesting some pages were in a different order than intended. I took in the elegant, looping script and the variety of drawings and diagrams on the first page.

  Shit, this could take forever.

  Which, considering what waited for me if I pulled this off, wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Need some help?” Kolvak asked.

  I bit back my irritation.

  Are you suggesting you know how to crack this code? I mentally asked him.

  “I would think so, considering one of my contemporaries wrote the damn thing.”

  This gave me pause, and I could feel my heart slamming against my ribcage with growing excitement. Sometimes I struggled to think of Kolvak as someone from another age, considering how up-to-speed he was with modern lingo.

  “I know how you people talk because, for the last ten years, I've listened in on every conversation you ever had, watched every insipid movie and tv show you polluted your brain with.”

  Okay, that was creepy. All these years, the warlock had been with me, listening in on my thoughts while I lacked the magic to hear him in my head. Talk about a one-sided relationship. Only once the curse of Bastet had taken hold was able I pick up the frequency the ancient warlock was broadcasting on.

  Why didn’t you mention earlier you could decode the Codex?

  “Would it have mattered? You still needed to get your hands on the book to use it as a bargaining chip. A task you failed at miserably.”

  Kolvak sure didn’t like to pull his punches. I bit back an insult and thought, So what I’m looking at here?

  Kolvak started to explain the cipher to me, and suddenly, I was glad to have a helpful assistant riding along in my head. This code might have stumped even the most sophisticated translation software but once Kolvak broke down the nuances, it all began to make sense to me.

  As I recognized sentences and patterns on the page, I realized I was looking at the instructions of an elaborate occult ritual.

  What sort of ritual is this? I mentally asked the warlock. Hopefully, I showed no outside signs to my captors that I was engaged in a heated mental dialogue with a disembodied spirit.

  “The kind that could change the tides of this war in favor of Bastet’s children and the many other shifter races.”

  Had I heard Kolvak correctly? Was he suggesting there were other monsters out there? This whole thing was getting crazier by the minute.

  “The mundane world you know is complex, Erik. So is the shadow world you're about to discover.”

  Could you be slightly more specific?

  The warlock explained the ritual to me and put it in terms that someone not versed in the mysteries of magic and complex shifter lore could wrap their head around.

  Deep within me, the beast roared with joy, finally grasping the magical power contained within these ancient vellum pages and the dark significance of the ritual for his kind. The Codex could change everything, shift the balance for power. I finally grasped why the Followers of Bastet were so eager to get their hands on this book of archaic knowledge.

  Both Cutter and Natalia studied me while these deeper insights flashed through my mind. Even though I was doing my best to hide my thoughts and feelings, they must have sensed I was onto something. Their impatience was palpable as they continued to watch me intensely.

  My mind was working furiously. If I told Cutter what I knew, he would kill me—but I would save humanity. Things get tricky when you find yourself on both sides of a fight.

  I was still running through all my options when I spotted shadowy movement beyond the loft’s grimy skylight.

  My blood turned to ice when I realized what I was looking at. Three muscular panthers were circling the skylight above me, their graceful forms outlined in the moonlight.

  It looked like my new cousins were here to rescue me.

  A split second later, the glass shattered and the three apex predators exploded into the loft.

 
Things were about to get interesting.

  And fucking bloody.

  10

  Say what you will about the League of Light, but what they lacked in people skills they sure made up in steely professionalism. After the initial shock wore off, they responded to the incoming threat with grace and a deadliness that mirrored their dangerous enemy.

  As the first panther slammed into one of the monster hunters, two other men had already targeted the creature with their silver-loaded assault rifles. Bullets lashed into the were, hurling him off his downed prey.

  The werepanther performed a mad dance in midair and then collapsed in a pool of red, already transforming back into a nude man who was bleeding from multiple ugly bullet holes. The air reeked of cordite and freshly spilled blood, and the beast inside of me awoke.

  Same time, two other grime-streaked windows exploded, and more humanoid werepanthers burst into the loft. A claw struck a hunter positioned near the windows and opened his throat in a geyser of red.

  The monster hunters pivoted toward this new enemy and opened fire.

  I saw the were-creature dart into the shadows while more monsters appeared behind the other windows of the warehouse. The sneak attack was turning into a full-out assault. Despite their skill and silver-loaded arsenal, the hunters’ odds weren’t looking good.

  These shifters weren’t taking any prisoners. I guess this was another thing the two sides shared in common. These were classic blood adversaries, both sides hardened by centuries of fierce warfare. Like the Hatfields and McCoys, if one of the feuding families had been cursed monsters.

  Another window shattered, revealing another adversary.

  The werepanther bounded toward Cutter in a series of great leaps reminiscent more of a super-graceful gorilla than a jungle cat. Displaying reflexes and instincts that were a match for the panther creatures, Cutter spun toward the approaching beast in one smooth motion, his machete up and ready.

  The werepanther pounced, limbs outstretched, claws ready to rend flesh and add a few more scars to Cutter’s savaged face.

  Silver sliced the shadows and struck the panther in mid-leap. The blade separated the werepanther’s head from his torso, and the body collapsed while the head sailed through the air. By the time both body and head landed on the loft floor, the creature had already reverted to its human form.

  Cutter might be an asshole, but he also was a fearless warrior. I had a good feeling the panther who’d torn his face open had already paid with its life for the attack.

  As the warehouse descended into chaos, my beast tried to assert itself. Blood and death filled the air, triggering the dormant creature’s unholy appetite, the screams of the dying acting as a siren call for the beast.

  I felt my physique expand, fur growing all over my body as my skeleton pushed against my thickening muscles. But as I grew larger, the contact with the silver chains intensified.

  In my human form, silver was unpleasant; in my panther body, it became unbearable.

  My transforming body strained against the chain, smoke erupting from the points of contact. I screamed out in a human voice that soon degenerated into a pain-filled roar. I found myself caught in mid-transformation between man and beast, the panther unable to fully take over as long as the silver chains remained in place.

  I jerked back and forth in the chair like a raging maniac, half man, half beast. Gravity and physics worked against my crazed movements, and the chair and I toppled over, hitting the ground hard.

  From this canted perspective, I followed the battle while my beast retreated with a howl of agony. I saw combat boots pound the floor while black muscular shapes zigzagged through the loft like living shadows. My entire world reduced to screams and gunfire.

  I wanted to cry out in terror. My beast wanted to roar in dark anticipation.

  And then Natalia rushed toward me.

  For a moment, her eyes met mine. There was a trace of pity in her face, but her training took over and buried her emotions. One life meant little when the lives of millions were at stake.

  Natalia snatched the leather-bound book from the table, an invaluable prize that could not end up in the hands of the League’s mortal enemy.

  We traded one last glance, and then she spun away from me, becoming another faceless silhouette on the battlefield.

  The loft had become a warzone—man versus beast, silver versus fangs and teeth.

  My beast experienced a sick thrill as one of its monstrous brethren buried its teeth in the neck of a female hunter. Blood painted the panther’s face crimson, turning it into a demonic mask.

  The sight of all these horrors made my human consciousness retreat, and I turned inward. I tried to picture Ashley’s smiling face in my mind’s eye as we took a stroll across the campus.

  What if I’d never answered Robert’s call and instead had joined the lovely psychology professor for a walk and a drink at happy hour? How different would my life be now?

  “Stop daydreaming, Romeo. What’s done is done. You can pretend none of this is happening, or you can accept reality and survive.”

  Kolvak was right.

  The beast in me wanted to live.

  Hell, I wanted to live.

  And the warlock trapped within the pendant dangling from my neck seemed to be on the same page.

  “We have to get out of here. If the Followers of Bastet escape with the Codex, the League will have no further use for you. And if the werepanthers win this battle, let’s just say they won’t welcome you into the pride with open arms once they know your human remains in charge of the beast.”

  “Gotcha, neither side has any love lost for me. Any bright ideas how I can slip out of these chains?”

  “You do realize I’m a warlock?” Kolvak asked.

  “Are you saying you can wave your magic wand and make these restraints disappear?

  “In my prime, that would’ve been an option. But in this disembodied state, my powers are not what they used to be. I will try to transform the silver into brass instead.”

  The voice in my head grew silent. I guessed Kolvak was reaching deep into his magic bag of tricks and focusing all his energies on the problem at hand.

  At first, it felt like nothing was happening. Then a strange burst of heat rippled down my spine, and this time, the silver chains weren’t the cause of the uncomfortable sensation. This new energy radiated from the medallion around my neck.

  Kolvak was doing his thing.

  The heat jumped from the pendant to the chains. For a split second, the pain triggered by the silver restraints increased in intensity, and then it died down completely. As I pushed my body against the chains, I felt nothing. The dull throb of agony had stopped. My restraints sure didn’t feel like silver anymore.

  I took a deep breath.

  “I think you did it, Kolvak.”

  “Was there ever any doubt? Now it’s your turn, buddy. Let the beast out.”

  I grinned. Crazy as it may sound, I was looking forward to this next part.

  Time to let the panther loose.

  I called out for the monster inside me.

  The panther answered my call almost immediately.

  I felt the creature’s dark spirit, sensed its rage and hunger and formidable strength.

  But I wasn’t afraid this time.

  My bones contracted, my spine twisted, and my body began to change.

  There was still some pain, but it was way more manageable. I strained against the metal of my shackles, willing them to break.

  Another sound at the periphery of my awareness. My ears turned toward the incoming footsteps, boots pounding the wooden floor.

  I craned my neck and spotted the machete-wielding monster hunter rushing straight toward me. Shit. The threat of decapitation remained fresh in my mind—I knew all too well what this hunter had had in store for me. Judging by the hunter’s narrowed gaze, the bastard knew what I was up to and planned to skewer me in mid-transformation.

  The gleaming refl
ection of the silver machete galvanized the beast into action.

  Sinews and facial bones shifted, my nose and mouth widened while my hands began to twist and contort with little cracking sounds of bone and cartilage. My body was traveling the primeval distance from man to beast. This time around, I welcomed the sensation. I guess you can get used to anything.

  And then the man—not Cutter, but one of the other hunters from his goon squad—was upon me, and his machete was headed right for my fur-covered throat.

  I flexed my muscles with a savage roar and pushed against the chains with all my inhuman strength. There was a moment of resistance, and then the links snapped.

  Not a second too soon as the hungry blade rippled toward me.

  I darted aside, and the machete chomped into the wooden floor. The stunned hunter spun toward me as my claws raked across his chest. My attacker's Kevlar body armor opened like a can of sardines, and my razor-sharp claws found the soft flesh underneath.

  The man cried out and went down.

  I turned away from the bleeding man, all too aware the power blood had over my beast. But wherever I looked, images of death and destruction confronted me. The other combatants hadn’t held back, and the mauled remains of both hunters and werepanthers bore grim testimony of the fierce battle.

  Human revulsion warred with the beast's dark excitement, but my human side kept the monster under a tight leash.

  I scanned the loft for survivors and found none. There was no sign of either Natalia or Cutter. A burst of gunfire followed by a series of savage roars suggested this conflict was far from over. The battle had spilled out of the warehouse into the streets beyond.

  “You better get moving, my friend.”

  I took Kolvak’s recommendation to heart and tilted my massive neck up at the shattered skylight above.

  I breathed in deeply, drunk on the copper scent of blood, and then leaped toward the skylight. The powerful muscles of my legs propelled me upward despite my bulk, and I shot out of the opening and landed on the loft’s roof. The glittering lights of downtown Los Angeles stretched out before me.