Panther Curse Read online

  My slitted eyes scanned the night, screams drifting up from the alleys below.

  I rushed toward the parapet and looked down at the life-and-death struggle below. More bodies littered the alley, the battle having exacted a high cost on both sides.

  And then I spotted Natalia.

  She’d successfully fought her way out of the building but now found herself surrounded by several werepanthers. And judging from the way she was staring down the beasts with nothing but a silver dagger, she was out of ammo.

  The panthers started to close in on her, eager to rip her apart. Still, the monsters maintained a safe distance, unwilling to press their advantage, all too aware that they faced a formidable opponent. Natalia hadn’t gotten this far on luck alone.

  The most daring of the weres—or perhaps he was just the most foolish—made a go for her. As he propelled forward, ready to draw blood, the silver dagger came up in an expert sweep and found the incoming monster’s heart.

  A wail of agony exploded from the were’s throat, and the creature stumbled backward, stunned by the sudden attack. Soon, the beast joined the other dead on the ground and turned back into his human self.

  Natalia spun toward the other weres, her face showing no fear despite being outnumbered by an enemy not known for being merciful.

  As the snapping jaws of two more panther beasts zeroed in on Natalia, I saw she was ready to battle them until she drew her final breath. And then a third creature appeared in the alley behind her. Now three enemies were approaching from every direction.

  Armed with a firearm loaded with silver, Natalia might have stood a chance against such uneven odds. But bravery went only so far.

  She was toast. And the panthers knew it.

  The ring of weres tightened around her, moving closer and closer.

  A claw shot out and drew blood, and I saw how Natalia fought back the pain as blood dripped down her injured leg and pooled around her boots.

  The fucking things were playing with her. Like she was a mouse, and they were nothing but giant, merciless housecats

  “I know what you’re thinking of doing, Erik, but I advise against it,” Kolvak said.

  “I can’t let her die.”

  “Why not? She would have had no problem watching Cutter finish you off.”

  My claws raked the parapet, energized by the adrenaline blasting through my system.

  “Natalia could have killed me twice, but she didn’t.”

  “Only because she needed you.”

  Perhaps the warlock was right, but I knew this woman was one of the good guys, and I wouldn’t stand by and do nothing while those monsters tore her into bloody pieces.

  Not if I wanted to stay one of the good guys myself.

  I sensed my beast wasn’t too eager to pick a fight with members of his kind, but I was the one still in charge here.

  Mind made up, I threw myself over the ledge.

  It was time to see what these claws could do.

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  I soared over the ledge like an Olympic diver and shot towards the alley below.

  My sleek panther body sliced the air and landed with perfect grace right in front of a stunned Natalia.

  Shock thrummed up my powerful calves and thighs as I connected with the hard asphalt and traded a quick look with the female monster hunter.

  Her brown eyes flashed with surprise, clearly wondering why a were was coming to her rescue.

  The smell of blood hit my nostrils and lingered on my tongue, the scent emanating from the wounded woman I’d chosen to protect. Hunger knotted my stomach, and I fought back the impulse to turn on her.

  No, she isn’t your prey!

  The beast recoiled from the intensity of my mental command.

  I knew the creature trapped deep within me would have enjoyed snacking on the human I’d chosen to shield with my body, but I called the shots here.

  The beast was under my control, damn it.

  Natalia took a step backward, her hand trembling on the knife. With my heightened panther abilities, I could sense her fear—the heady tang of adrenaline and the rabbit-fast beat of her heart. The monster hunter was cornered, outnumbered, and expected to die soon.

  I wanted to tell her I was on her side, but only a low growl escaped from my throat. I held her gaze and hoped she recognized a spark of human intelligence.

  Praying she wouldn’t stab me in the back with her silver dagger, I spun toward the three werepanthers circling us with predatory anticipation.

  I unleashed a fearsome roar, giving my beast free rein for just a moment. The message clear—back the fuck off or pay the consequences.

  The creatures paused in their approach, stunned to see one of their own standing in their way. But at least they were getting the message. I guess they were as surprised by my behavior as Natalia was. Even though outnumbered and still getting used to this half-man, half-panther form, I refused to let these creatures tear Natalia apart.

  I faced the three beasts, and my powerful body braced for violence. An outside observer would have had a hard time keeping us all apart. We all looked the same, but our similarities were cosmetic. The werepanthers facing me were monsters, an unholy hybrid of man and beast with no humanity intact. They’d given in completely to the curse while I was a calculating human brain in the skull of a beast.

  This crucial difference had advantages and disadvantages. I was no match for their savagery, but there was a good reason humans were at the top of the food chain. Smarts trumped brute strength. Or at least that’s what I was counting on.

  The other werepanthers regarded me coolly, their amber eyes glowing in the sickly moonlight. Who would make the first move?

  I raised my hooked claws, power and exhilaration singing in my blood.

  And then I spotted a fourth werepanther. This one was female, the head smaller, the fur lighter, the body still muscular yet balanced differently from the males. The beast within noted her sleek form with appreciation.

  My human mind realized I had seen this female werepanther before.

  She was the were who’d bitten me back in the library — the creature who’d turned me into this monster.

  The leader of the pride. Santara.

  The eyes staring back at me were cunning and cold and without fear. And there was something disturbingly enticing about the female were.

  She moved with lethal grace, her lithe curves hinting at the dark pleasures I could take with her. I remembered how the exotic dancers on the billboard had left me cold—well, Santara was lighting a fire in a very disturbing way.

  Huh, I guess my taste in women changed when I transformed. It almost made sense as much as anything made sense nowadays.

  Santara regarded me in silence from the end of the alley, the bodies of the fallen monster hunters and weres splayed at her feet, her fierce green glare hypnotizing as she appraised me.

  “Why do you protect this mortal?”

  The words didn’t flow from her lips but echoed through my mind. Awesome! Let’s invite the whole neighborhood for a party in Erik’s brain.

  “Why turn on the pride?” Santara insisted.

  “I’m not one of you monsters.”

  Mellifluous, mocking laughter rang through my head in response to my declaration of independence.

  “Tell that to the League of Light.”

  There was a pause and then: “But you’re definitely different. The last time I saw one of our kind resist the call of Bastet—”

  She broke off, almost as if she’d come to some conclusion as to my unusual behavior. Apparently, she wasn’t going to share it with me. The playfulness left her voice which became sharp and commanding.

  “Step aside or face the consequences.”

  For a moment, I wanted to comply, wanted to do whatever would please Santara, and gain me her favor. Was she weaving some sort of mind control spell over me? She’d gotten into my head already, so how much harder could it be for her to seize control of the beast?

&nbs
p; “Remember who is in charge, Erik! You’re not one of these monsters.” Kolvak said.

  “I understand now,” Santara said. "The same magical medallion which saved your life in the library is trying to tame the panther inside of you. Others have tried to bend the curse of our goddess to their will. Ultimately, their magic always failed them. The beast will not remain locked up forever. But don’t worry, you won’t live long enough to experience the call of Bastet.”

  And with these words, Santara tilted her head at the three panthers that surrounded Natalia and me. She was permitting the weres to tear me apart, to turn their claws and fangs against one of their own.

  It was three against one—four against one if the pride leader joined the fray.

  I braced my thickly muscled legs, inflated my chest, and fixed my gaze on my enemies. I would stand my ground here. Fight the bastards to the bitter end.

  Don’t ask me where my resolve came from. Had it always been inside of me? Or perhaps I feared what would happen if Santara got her hands on the Codex, what it would mean for humanity.

  I shuddered at the thought of the terrible power Santara wanted to unleash upon the world, the details of the ritual contained within its yellowed pages still all too vivid in my mind. I almost wished Kolvak hadn’t helped me translate the text.

  “At least you know what you’re fighting for, kid. And you know what will happen if you lose.”

  Thanks for the reminder, Kolvak. No pressure.

  I hissed and roared, a clear sign to the others that I would not turn my back on this fight.

  Unfortunately, my willingness to confront my enemies didn’t discourage them. In fact, it actually seemed to fire up their eagerness to rip into me. I guess they rarely got a chance to turn on one of their own.

  The first werepanther rose on his hind legs and charged toward me. Perhaps my beast would have met him head-on, eager to establish his dominance in a brutal collision of our powerful bodies. I decided to use my brain instead and dropped onto my haunches.

  The incoming werepanther overshot me and slammed into the steel dumpster to my right with a loud clang. That must have hurt.

  The creature was still regaining his bearings, groggy from slamming into the metal container, when I spun towards him. Before the werepanther could react, I lashed out at the beast’s muscular chest, and my claws threw up a red spray.

  The monster stumbled and collapsed, blood painting his fur crimson.

  Then it unleashed a savage bellow and braced itself for another attack despite its hemorrhaging wounds.

  “Get down!”

  This time the words had not originated in my mind. I heeded Natalia's warning and hurled myself to the ground.

  There was a whistling sound above me as Natalia’s silver dagger struck the wounded werepanther right in the throat.

  The beast’s body lit up as if it’d been doused in napalm, flames hungrily burning off the black fur. The smell was truly terrible, and thanks to my enhanced senses, I got an extra-strong whiff of scorched cat hair.

  The panther let out a keening hiss before collapsing in a cloud of sizzling flesh and smoke. Muscles melted away as the creature drew its last breath and reverted to its human form.

  I stared at the dead naked man at my feet, his skinny body contorted in a fetal position. A shiver ran through me. Was this the fate that awaited me in the future? Would I succumb to a silver weapon in some dark alley?

  I shook off the grim thoughts threatening to take root within my mind and traded a glance with Natalia. I hoped to communicate my gratitude despite my animal state before I whirled toward the other creatures.

  The remaining two panther beasts were approaching with more caution, having witnessed the price their brother had paid for underestimating Natalia and me.

  Santara continued to watch the fight from the near distance. She was studying and assessing me, her gleaming green eyes different from those of her brethren. I worried a lot more about her than the two snarling werepanthers. Santara was the pride leader, and she could think and speak like a human while in her beast form, and it had been her bite that had turned me into this thing.

  I didn’t know why she was different from the other weres, but I could see that she was more dangerous.

  I tried not to dwell on the odds as my enemies zeroed in on us and focused on the battle ahead. The eyes of the two male weres held mine, promising agony.

  I glanced around the alley, and my gaze fell on a dead monster hunter who’d fallen during the earlier fight. His mauled flesh lay in large puddles of red, but I was only interested in the assault rifle he’d never had time to fire. Could I reach it in time?

  Inspired by a sudden idea, I launched myself at the two approaching weres.

  My claws flashed, forcing one beast to recoil while the other monster slammed into me, over three hundred pounds of pure muscle that sent me flying. We both went down in a ball of flashing claws and fangs.

  Somehow I managed to roll off my assailant, unwilling to engage the creature in a direct fight. While my opponent only wanted to draw blood, I had a different agenda. The werepanther looked at me warily, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

  One thing was for certain—I sure as hell wasn’t fighting like any panther they’d ever encountered before. Right now, my only advantage was unpredictability.

  With that in mind, I launched myself at the body in a big jump and feathered into my haunches next to the gored League of Light footsoldier.

  My gaze darted toward his assault rifle.

  My paws could not fit in the trigger guard, but that wasn’t my intention, anyway.

  I scooped up the gun and tossed it at the woman who knew how to operate it.

  Natalia caught the weapon, slammed back the safety, and unleashed a fierce volley into the two male weres.

  I ducked as the hail of silver bullets finished off the beasts.

  Shit, who knew a monster and a monster hunter could make such a good team?

  Satisfied the creatures wouldn’t be a problem any longer, my attention shifted to the female werepanther looming at the end of the alley. Santara snarled at me, clearly not used to the humiliation of defeat.

  I took a step forward, a low growl bubbling in my throat. Sensing I meant business, Santara chose the better part of valor and fled. By the time I reached the end of the alleyway and checked the main street, the were-queen had vanished.

  My enhanced senses cut through the encroaching darkness but detected no signs of my enemy.

  The warlock’s voice grew serious as he spoke. “Santara prefers it when others do her dirty work. She’s accustomed to soldiers fighting and dying in her name, while she keeps her dainty little paws clean.”

  Kolvak’s words gave me pause. Had the warlock faced this werepanther queen before? It sure sounded that way. Warlocks probably dealt with supernatural creatures all the time. Kolvak might have run into Santara while trapped inside the medallion. I mean, the amulet must have had many owners over the years, including my father before me. And that led to another question: had my father known Santara?

  And that led to an even crazier idea. Was Santara maybe the supernatural creature my father had fallen in love with, the reason the League had targeted him?

  My head was spinning as I considered all the possibilities.

  “You sure have an active imagination, kid.”

  “I want answers.”

  “And you’ll get them, my friend. But there are still hunters nearby. And Santara will be back with reinforcements.”

  I reluctantly accepted the logic of Kolvak’s words. This wasn’t the place to start an argument with the warlock.

  “Besides, your new friend is not doing so hot at the moment.”

  What was Kolvak saying?

  Anxiety knotted my stomach as I whirled around. Natalia was gone. Then I looked down at the filthy pavement and realized that I was wrong. Correction, she hadn’t disappeared, but she had collapsed on the ground, which wasn’t a good sign.
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  My legs exploded into motion, and I loped back down the alley. Seconds later, I reached Natalia’s downed form. She was unconscious, lying in a pool of her own blood.

  I kneeled before her, the sight of all that blood almost overwhelming my senses. Only my concern for Natalia held the beast in check.

  Damnit, she was losing too much blood. And my paws were no good for applying bandages or a tourniquet.

  Natalia needed to get to a hospital fast, or she’d bleed out.

  A quick scan of the downtown skyline told me we were about ten blocks away from the nearest medical center. I doubted Natalia had that much time, but I would give it a shot.

  My ears pricked upward, having detected a new sound in the alley.

  I turned, intending to scoop Natalia up, and came face to face with my new favorite person in the whole wide world.

  Cutter stood at the end of the alley and leveled his assault rifle at me.

  I held his gaze, saw the righteous fury in his eyes. He thought that I’d killed Natalia. And even if I’d been able to speak, I could tell he wouldn’t listen.

  In the breathless moment, before he pulled the trigger, I reacted on pure instinct. Somehow my paw elongated and transformed into a human hand while the rest of me remained a panther form.

  What was the point of transforming an isolated body part, you might wonder? Did I merely want to flip him the bird before he shot me?

  The answer was simple. The partial transformation gave me the tools to scoop up the same silver-loaded assault rifle I'd passed to Natalia.

  Before Cutter grasped what was happening, the assault rifle was in my hand, and my human index finger was pulling the trigger.

  You might wonder why I hadn’t pulled off this neat little trick earlier. The truth is that I had no idea how to do it. The burst of adrenaline from my mortal terror had kicked in my werepanther instincts.

  I let out a roar as the assault rifle chopped the alley and forced Cutter to seek cover behind a dumpster. The silver bullets pockmarked the steel container but didn’t find their target. Hey, I’m a history professor, not an action hero. I’m just doing my best here, okay?