Date: 2019-06-22 22:00:00+00:00
Rights: Copyright 2019 WILLIAM MASSA. All rights reserved.

Panther Curse

Panther Man Book 1

WILLIAM MASSA

Critical Mass Publishing

Copyright © 2019 by WILLIAM MASSA

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Design: Jun Ares/Christian Bentulan/KimballStock

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Contents

Also by WILLIAM MASSA

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Also by WILLIAM MASSA

About the Author

Also by WILLIAM MASSA

THE NIGHT SLAYER SERIES

Midnight War

Monster Quest

Shadow Plague

Dark Masters (coming soon)

THE SHADOW DETECTIVE SERIES

Cursed City

Soul Catcher

Blood Rain

Demon Dawn

Skull Master

Ghoul Night

Witch Wars

Crimson Circle

Hell Breaker

Dragon Curse

Shadow Lord (coming soon)

THE OCCULT ASSASSIN SERIES

Damnation Code

Apocalypse Soldier

Ice Shadows

Spirit Breaker

Soul Jacker

Doomsday Disciples (coming soon)

THE PARANORMALIST
coming soon

THE GARGOYLE KNIGHT SERIES

Gargoyle Knight

Gargoyle Quest

STAND ALONES

Fear the Light

1

Michael Lamont stole a glance at the angel reclined in the passenger seat of his Porsche 911 Carrera rental and forgot about the devils who stalked this world.

He basked in the woman’s natural, open smile and inhaled her sweet perfume, a mix of vanilla and lavender.

Her name was Sheryl, she was twenty-three years old, and she spent most of her time teaching Zumba. What a life. Her body was toned and tanned, and her tight red dress left little to the imagination. She had caught his eye at the hip Hollywood watering hole before he even drained his first martini.

Her incredible figure had sparked his initial interest, but her fun, playful personality had held it. Michael operated in a universe where smiles were rare and people kept their guard up. He envied Sheryl’s blissful ignorance of the terrible dangers that threatened mankind. Peering into those big eyes and losing himself in her enthusiastic laughter allowed him to forget about the horrors, at least for a short period.

He was no fool. He knew all too well that spending a few hours with Sheryl represented but a brief escape from the war being waged in the shadows. The darkness would soon catch up with him, as it always did. But for a little while, he could pretend that everything was all right with the world.

He pulled up to the luxury apartment building on Wilshire where he was staying during this visit to Los Angeles. The twenty-story building’s windows glittered in the dark night.

The organization he worked for—and to which he’d devoted his life—owned many properties in the city, including three units in this building. They functioned as safe houses for traveling hunters.

Michael was in LA on business, but who could blame him for trying to squeeze in some R&R? His superiors would have frowned on the behavior, but he was no monk even though he worked for a secret society closely associated with the Vatican.

Picking up some willing beauty had not been his original intention, at least not consciously. He’d told himself he was hitting up the town for a nightcap, nothing more. Bumping into Sheryl was a coincidence—but a welcome one.

“Nice place you got,” the young woman said. “You know how many times I’ve driven past one of these apartments and wondered what it must be like inside?”

There was no trace of cynicism as she beamed at him with a sense of childlike wonder. Michael knew it hadn’t been his charm or looks that had attracted the young blonde. There were many men she could have picked at the bar, but she had been drawn to him. His darkness, perhaps? The aura of danger? He had told her he worked in finance. Not as exciting as the truth, not by a long stretch. How would she have reacted if she knew he hunted monsters for an ancient organization dedicated to protecting humanity?

What a strange pair we make, Michael thought with a smile.

Michael pulled into the apartment building’s driveway and held up his access pass at the uniformed guard fronting the garage. A beat later, a steel fence rolled open, and Michael steered the gray Porsche into an underground parking structure.

Stale air and thick cement greeted them, along with an impressive collection of upscale cars. Paupers didn’t call this place home.

Not every safe house was this nice. Michael had spent many a mission cooped up in some rundown shack or fleabag motel. This time he’d gotten lucky and was hunting monsters in style.

Michael pulled into his designated parking slot and killed the engine. For a moment they sat in excited silence. He leaned over, caressed Sheryl's cheek, and then lightly brushed his lips over hers. His kisses were soft and teasing at first, probing and exploratory. It had been a few months since he’d shared his bed with someone, and as his hand explored Sheryl’s bare leg, he felt his body responding, his passion building.

He lost all sense of time as they made out, his senses entirely focused on the woman next to him. Almost entirely. He wanted to lose himself in those luscious lips and ample curves, but a part of him couldn’t relax, couldn’t take off his armor. Out here in the car, they remained exposed and vulnerable. He needed another drink and the safety of the four walls of the apartment .

“Want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Sheryl replied with an eager grin.

Michael stepped out of the car and opened the door for his new friend. She leaned into him, and they sauntered, arm in arm, toward the waiting elevators.

As they made their way through the garage, he wondered what Natalia Creed would think of him bringing a woman back to the safe house. He could easily picture her sharp disapproval. His partner was the consummate professional, the kind of hunter the League of Light wished they had more of. Natalia never let her guard down, displayed no weakness. How did she live her life without ever compromising her standards? She was a born and bred monster hunter—and barely seemed human at times.

And yet, despite all of that, he looked forward to seeing her tomorrow when her plane arrived in Los Angeles. She didn’t need to know about—

A loud thumping sound thrust Michael out of his thoughts, and his guard went up immediately. His hand reached for the Glock in his shoulder holster as he spun around, eyes combing the yawning darkness of the parking structure.

Sheryl’s eyes widened the moment she spotted the concealed firearm.

“What…?” The words died on her lips. She had identified the source of the strange sound at the same moment as Michael.

About twenty feet away, a four-legged beast crouched atop the roof of a BMW. A sleek torso swayed between heavily muscled limbs, preparing to pounce, two hundred pounds of coiled intensity eager to wreak destruction.

The black panther icily regarded them, eyes glowing green in the dim light of the parking structure, powerful muscles bunched.

Strangely enough, Michael experienced no fear. Only anger at himself for having dragged this poor girl into his crazy world.

The panther snarled as Michael leveled his Glock at the creature. The beast studied him with unnerving intelligence. This was no ordinary jungle cat, nor had the creature randomly targeted him.

The beast was a Follower of Bastet.

It knew who he was, knew Michael was trained to hunt its kind. Therefore, it also knew his Glock didn’t fire regular bullets. So why announce its presence when it could have silently crept up on them?

There was only one answer that made sense to Michael. The beast wasn’t alone.

“Oh my G-God,” Sheryl stammered.

“Stay calm,” Michael whispered as he tightened his grip on her. The beast remained an unmoving statue, biding its time.

Michael didn’t dare take his eyes off the panther, knowing all too well how fast these creatures could move. A second of distraction could result in those teeth clamping down on his throat before he knew what hit him.

Michael shepherded the shaking woman behind him and backed up toward the elevators. The poor girl gripped his hand with all her strength, and he made out her shallowed, panicked breaths. Sheryl was terrified. He’d almost forgotten what it was like when a civilian encountered the dark reality which defined most of his days, how happiness was shattered by the proximity of death.

Michael was still inching toward the elevators when he caught a flicker of movement between a row of luxury automobiles. A shadowy shape darted between a Maserati and a tricked-out Hummer, confirming his worst fears. There were more of the beasts in the parking garage.

Fuck.

Another heavy thump emanated from his left as a second panther leaped from the shadows and landed on the hood of a blue Mercedes. It unleashed a spitting rasp followed by a ferocious snarl, the low rumbling sound echoing in the garage.

The arrival of the new creature pushed Sheryl over the edge. Gripped by a wave of terror, she pulled away from him and ran toward the elevators in a wild panic.

Fear raced up Michael’s spine, and he cursed under his breath as he diverted his attention from the two massive predators perched on the cars. The monster hunter watched in growing horror as Sheryl sprinted toward the bank of elevators, unaware of the third creature hiding in the darkness.

The panther shot toward her, eyes flashing green, lips curled back, exposing jagged teeth. A heartbeat later, the fast-moving black mass leaped on top of Sheryl, burying her hundred-pound frame under its bone-crushing weight as it slashed at her with one clawed paw.

The hapless girl let out a strangled scream that was swiftly cut off by the monster’s bellowing roar.

Michael hesitated a split second to pull the trigger, worried the bullet might hit Sheryl. By the time the first silver projectile erupted from the Glock, the beast’s front claws had already shredded Sheryl’s face, leaving a dark trail of blood on the concrete floor.

With uncanny speed, the panther’s head snapped toward Michael, teeth and snout dripping crimson. And that’s when the monster hunter sensed movement behind him.

Two more panthers were joining the fun.

Micheal pivoted and fired at the first of the incoming beasts. The bullet founds its target, and the devastating impact stopped the monster dead in its tracks.

The creature wailed with agony, a thick trail of smoke emanating from the wound as the bullet flung it backward.

These weren’t animals but supernatural beings. Weres who’d shifted into their full animal form. And his bullets weren’t ordinary ammo.

As the wounded monster continued to snarl in pain, Michael jumped into motion. He ran toward the elevator while squeezing off a few rounds behind him. Hopefully, seeing the dying panther creature would serve as a warning to the others not to fuck with him.

Michael passed Sheryl and glanced at her lifeless form with a heavy heart. Dead eyes stared emptily at him from the mask of gore, the same eyes which had twinkled with mischief and good humor a few minutes earlier.

He cursed himself for his selfishness, his weakness. Her death was on him but dwelling on his guilt wouldn’t bring her back. All he could do now was survive so he could avenge her and all the other innocent victims these beasts had claimed over the years. He would make the Followers of Bastet pay for this.

Michael continued to fire at the two panthers, who maintained their pursuit at a safe distance. They skillfully used the parked cars as a cover, a sharp reminder that these were no ordinary animals.

Splitting his attention between his four-legged pursuers and the elevator made him vulnerable to another surprise attack, but no other creature emerged from the pools of blackness. Michael held no illusions he'd be okay once he reached the elevator. The werepanthers had identified the safe house. Who knew how deep their infiltration ran? They might be waiting for him outside the apartment even now.

He would have to alert headquarters as soon as he got a chance.

If he got the chance.

He stabbed the up button and seconds later, the elevator doors split open.

The lift wasn’t empty. A humanoid panther creature glared back at him with slitted, emerald eyes. The body was that of a muscular man covered in thick black fur, the hands and feet replaced with paws which sprouted long, hooked talons, the head that of a ferocious panther.

Michael fired his Glock, but the beast was already upon him, claws sinking into soft flesh. Blood sprayed the walls, and his gunshots went wild. Metal sparked as the silver projectiles slammed into the roof of the elevator.

Michael was lifted into the air. He remained airborne for a beat, and then the stone floor of the parking garage came rushing up at him, followed by a bone-rattling impact that drove the wind out of his lungs.

Michael’s stunned gaze landing once again on Sheryl, a pool of scarlet widening around her ruined features.

He groggily tried to orient himself. The hunter was losing a lot of blood from the shoulder wound where the panther creature had sunk its claws into him. Plus, he had hit his head hard on the cement floor on the way down.

What a screw up.

Footsteps drew his attention.

He groggily followed the sound, and his gaze landed on a tall, statuesque woman decked out in a leather motorcycle outfit. High cheekbones, catlike features, dark hair, and alabaster skin. She smiled icily at him as she closed in, knee-high boots clacking against the floor. Two panthers trailed her like guard dogs.

Although Michael had never met her before, he recognized this woman from many intelligence briefings. This was Santara, a high-ranking lieutenant in Bastet’s were-army.

Michael wondered why he was still alive.

He received his answer a moment later when Santara removed a black leather glove. She held out her hand at him. Her grin deepened as the long nails grew into claws, dark fur blooming across the perfectly tanned skin. Within seconds, her hand had morphed into a deadly panther paw. It was the only part of Santara’s anatomy that changed; the pride leader was in full command of her beast.

There was only one reason for the claw that now hovered near his head. The end wouldn’t come fast. She was going to play with him. But why?

He received his answer a moment later as she went onto her haunches, and her cruel smile flattened into a severe line.

“Where is the book?” Santara asked, her eyes turning green as she sank the hooked claws of her transformed panther hand into pliable muscle.

Michael’s screams echoed in the underground garage, but no one would answer his pleas for a swift end.

2

I faced an auditorium filled with over a hundred college freshmen and did my best to explain the concept of carbon dating to these kids without putting them in a coma. If their bored-to-tears expressions were any indicator, I was failing miserably.

Sorry, guys, I thought, knowing the subject could be a little dry to folks whose idea of archeology was shaped by Indiana Jones marathons.

I couldn’t really blame these kids. For most of these undergraduates, my “Introduction to Anthropology and Archeology” class was a Humanities & Social Sciences requirement with no connection to the real reasons they were attending UCLA. Reasons like partying, drinking and… partying. I spotted the occasional history geek in the class who followed my words in rapt attention, but those were few and far between.

As I valiantly rambled on with my lecture, I kept checking the time, eager to wrap things up. If I was honest with myself, I was as bored with the material as the kids yawning in front of me. No wonder my droning voice was putting them to sleep.

Some people were born to teach. I sure as hell wasn’t one of them.

Deep down, I would have given anything to trade the classroom for a dusty dig in some war-torn Third World country. As far back as I could remember, the call for adventure had burned bright inside me. My dad had been a renowned archeologist, and I’d grown up with a love for dusty tombs and buried secrets. Some of my first words were in Latin and Aramaic, according to my folks (although I suspected that was a colorful family legend), and even as a kid I’d never doubted that one day I'd follow my father into his profession.

A terrible car accident a week after my seventeenth birthday had put a serious damper on those plans.

According to the cops on the scene, it was a goddamn miracle I’d survived. To be honest, sometimes I wished I hadn’t. The doctors had wired, plated, and stitched me back together to the best of their abilities, but my body was a map of scars and burn tissue. I wasn’t wheelchair-bound, but prolonged physical activity took a heavy toll on my broken body.

Ten years had passed since I wrapped my dad’s Mustang around a tree after a night of furious drinking and partying. I felt like twenty-eight going on ninety. Archeological field work was out of the question for someone in my condition. Teaching really was my only option if I wanted to even tangentially remain involved in the field.

I was stuck with this gig the same way these kids were stuck with me. Yay!

When the bell finally rang, both my students and I let out a sigh of relief. For now, we were free of each other.

As the kids eagerly filed out of the lecture hall, I scooped up my books and papers and placed them into my beaten-up leather satchel, one of the two items I’d inherited from my late father.

The other was a circular bronze pendant I wore around my neck. Runes and a Celtic Tree of Life adorned the amulet. This had been my father’s lucky charm, much good it had done him. Dad had bested grave robbers, hostile regimes, and rival treasure hunters only to succumb to a mugger’s bullet after leaving a late-night lecture at the Archeological Institute of America Society in New York City. His sudden, violent death had left me orphaned at the age of twelve and sent me on a self-destructive spiral that culminated in the accident which almost killed me. Dad had meant the world to me, even more so since my mom had passed away when I was still a baby.

A bespectacled, rail-thin young man slouched past my desk and eyed me intensely. “Great class, Dr. Cross.”

I smiled at the kid. Nice to know I had at least one fan. The student lingered in front of my desk for an awkward beat, and I almost expected him to hand me an apple. When I didn’t say anything, he shuffled away.

I waited for the young man to leave the classroom before I headed out myself. It was nearly four o’clock, and in theory I had the rest of the day off unless I became ambitious and decided to score today’s quiz. I would see how I felt after I grabbed a bite to eat.

I beelined to the faculty room, where I hoped to listen to some gossip and chew the fat with my colleagues.

A gray-white cat looked at me with a bored expression as I stepped into the break room, which didn’t diminish the feline’s cuteness in the slightest.

Domino belonged to adjunct psychology professor Ashley Norton, who refused to leave her feline alone at home and brought the kitty to school every day. All the professors adored the gray and white cat, who loved to play fetch with us as if she was a little dog. She spent most of her time in the faculty common room reclined on a chair or bookshelf. Domino’s presence definitely accounted for the many visits from students who pretended to be looking for one professor or another. The cat was a rockstar.

I scratched the beloved feline’s head, and Domino purred. I helped myself to a generous cup of coffee and a donut from the snack area—all the carbs, sugar and caffeine my out-of-shape body craved.

I was about to walk over to the nearest table to polish off my treat when a lovely brunette snuck up on me.  Meet Ashley Norton, Domino’s owner—and, if I was honest with myself, probably the real reason why I’d headed straight for the break room. The woman had gotten under my skin, and I’d developed a hopeless crush on her.

Ashley sported a devilish grin on her face as she gazed longingly at my chocolate-frosted donut.

“Lucky you. You got the last chocolate one. Mind if I take a nibble?”

Ashley never gave me a chance to answer, knowing full well I wouldn’t deny her anything. Grinning coquettishly, she leaned forward and took a giant bite out of the pastry

The girl wasn’t afraid of catching any germs from me, that much was for certain. I leaned forward and a stab of pain shot through my back.

I flinched inwardly, not wanting her to see how much I was hurting.

I liked Ashley.  A lot.

If a young Erik Cross had never totaled his car and destroyed his body in the process, I would have asked her out in a heartbeat. But in this reality, I just couldn’t see an amazing woman like her dating a man who needed a cane to get around, and whose body was wracked with pain, so I refused to take things further.

I know, pretty pathetic, but I had good reasons for keeping our relationship platonic. I hadn’t really dated since my accident.

I’d been pretty popular in my bad boy days, but a car accident can change your world in more ways than one. For the last ten years, I’d gone through life pushing away women who might be interested in me before they got too close. Better to reject them before they rejected me.

And they ultimately would, I was sure of that. Especially once they realized in what sorry shape my physique was. Clothes could hide a lot.

I had convinced myself that I was resigned to being alone for the rest of my life, but Ashley’s playful personality and sense of adventure were wearing me down. Being around her made me feel amazing. And the feeling appeared to be mutual.

Until recently, Ashley had a boyfriend, which had made it easy to keep our friendship on a platonic level. With the guy out of the picture, things were heating up between us, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

Ashley leaned into me and squeezed my hand, and every nerve ending reacted to her closeness. Her long auburn hair smelled terrific.

“Want to ditch this joint and go for a walk around campus?” Ashley asked me. “The weather is beautiful today, and we should catch some Vitamin D.”

I fully indented to tell her I had a giant stack of quizzes that needed my undivided attention.

Really, I did.

Instead, I just nodded my head with a lopsided grin plastered across my face.

Love makes you do stupid things.

And that’s when my ringing phone came to my rescue.

“Hold on, “ I said as I scanned my cell.

It was my boss and mentor, Professor Robert Mason, the head of the Archeology Department. A close friend of my father’s, he’d known me since I walked around in diapers.

When I lost my dad, Robert had been there for me, doing all in his power to keep me out of trouble. He blamed himself for my car accident, saw it as a personal failure on his part for not being a stronger father figure. He’d helped get me the teaching position after I earned my Ph.D.

I would never knowingly ignore a call from the man—even though Ashley’s smile made it difficult.

“It’s the boss,” I said, and Ashley nodded. She knew how close I was with the good professor.

I palmed my phone and accepted the call.

“What’s up, Robert?”

“Want a break from the grind, kid? Your talents are needed.”

Robert was referring to my linguistic abilities. I was fluent in Latin, Aramaic, Coptic, and Demotic, the ancient Egyptian language derived from northern forms of hieratic used in the Nile Delta.

I know that’s a mouthful for the uninitiated.

To sum it up, I had a freaky talent for languages, specifically those found etched on pyramids and other ancient grave sites. As far back as I could remember, I was able to study a new tongue and within hours get a sense of its syntax and grammar. It was an ability I’d inherited from Dad, and it sure came in handy in my chosen field.

“I know this is short notice, but we could use your big brain, kid.”

I sighed, both disappointed and relieved to be missing out on my walk with Ashley. “Okay, where am going?”

“Your favorite place in the world. I’ll see you in a few.”

With these words, Mason hung up.

My favorite place in the world.

Robert was talking about William Andrews Clark Memorial Library. Located downtown near the Natural History Museum, about ten miles from campus, it was one of the twelve official libraries at the university and one of the most comprehensive rare books and manuscripts collections in the country. My best guess was that Mason had an ancient piece of writing he wanted me to translate, and who was I to deny him.

“Duty calls again?” Ashley said as she rolled those mesmerizing eyes at me.

“I’m afraid so,” I replied, the disappointment in my voice all too real.

“I’m going with a few friends to Hal’s for a late happy hour. You should join us after you get done with Mason."

“I’ll do my best to make it, Ashley.”

“Alright, I expect to see you there,” Ashley said and winked playfully before she turned away from me and approached a female colleague in the back of the faculty room.

I looked after her for a beat and then left, disappointed that I would not be able to spend more time with the lovely Ashley. Robert’s timing had been impeccable.

My mind was definitely not on translating some ancient manuscript as I made my way out of the Anthropology Department and walked across the parking lot toward my metallic gray Honda Civic. My cane relieved some of the pressure on my joints and improved my balance, but the ten-minute walk to my car still left my body aching as if I’d just run a marathon.

I lowered myself into the Honda and began the endurance test known as LA traffic. As I braved the sea of steel, I found it difficult not to let my mind wander back to Ashley. I was at a loss on how to proceed with the charming psychology professor. My brain told me one thing, my heart another. The more I hung out with Ashley, the more I knew this thing wouldn’t end well for me. Better not to start, right?

I was used to being alone. But I wasn’t used to being in love. This was a whole new ball of wax. And I hated it.

Hated feeling like this. Hated just being half a man.

Your own damn fault, Cross. No one told you to knock back a six-pack and crash your car into a tree. Just be glad no one else got hurt.

Hoping to distract my whirling thoughts, I cranked up the radio and blasted some loud rock.

It helped. A little.

After thirty minutes, I reached my destination. My spine creaked as I crawled out of the car. My left leg felt numb. Driving was even worse than walking. To think I’d been a star athlete before my accident.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re lucky to be alive.

My inner voice snapped me out of my growing funk as I advanced toward the library. It was already turning dark outside. I fought back a shiver, the weather having cooled considerably since the sun had vanished.

Fall in Los Angeles was a joke when compared to the rest of the country, but my damaged joints were sensitive to any fluctuations in temperature. Wearing a thin tweed jacket didn’t help matters either. So much for trying to look professorial.

I hobbled as fast as I could down a stone path bordered by a wall of hedges and ignored my chattering teeth to the best of my abilities. Moonlight played over the lavishly detailed brick building up ahead. The structure oozed history and class.

I cherished this place with all my heart. I might not be able to take part in archeological digs, but I could walk the library’s refined halls, soak in its timeless masterpieces, and pore over manuscripts and texts composed by people who’d been dead for centuries.

I passed into the lobby, with its beautiful marble and painted ceiling. The head librarian, a gray-haired lady with an energetic gaze and a surefooted gait, greeted me as soon as I entered. I tried to not get too distracted by the intricate woodwork framing a collection of paintings.

“Professor Mason is waiting for you in the main collection room,” she said crisply.

I nodded and headed in that way, my curiosity growing with each step. What did Mason want me to look at today?

I would find out soon enough.

All around me, the walls hemorrhaged books, and the musky scent of aging paper filled my nostrils. It was one of my favorite smells in the world. I’d spent many a day in these hallowed chambers traveling back in time. This place held some of my most cherished memories of the last few years.

I shook my head at my thoughts. Jeez, I had to get a life. What kind of guy spends more time with books than actual, living human beings?

Up ahead, Mason fronted a mahogany desk as he conversed with a man and a woman I’d never seen before. A catwalk encircled the room, providing access to another floor lined with books. Round windows filtered the soothing sunlight shafting into the library.

Drawing closer to the trio, my eyes fell on the ancient leather-bound book splayed out on the desk. The medieval manuscript had to be the reason Mason had requested my presence.

I wondered who the two strangers might be. They didn’t look like academics, their fit physiques and serious eyes making me think of cops or soldiers.

Mason noticed my arrival and flashed me a warm smile. “Looks like Professor Cross has finally decided to join us.”

The two strangers turned in my direction and coolly regarded me. The man sported a buzz cut, and his flinty gaze oozed a no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners professionalism.

The woman next to him projected a similar level of cool bad-assery. An obsidian mane of hair framed a tanned face that clearly spent more time under the sun than in front of a computer screen or buried in a book. Her intelligent blue eyes formed a striking contrast with her complexion. She wore tight jeans and a form-hugging leather jacket that accentuated her super-fit but curvy figure. A pair of leather boots completed the killer outfit.

These two definitely weren’t academics.

This suspicion was further borne out by the bulges under their jackets—they were both carrying firearms. This threw me for a loop. Guns and academics didn’t exactly go hand in hand. Why would Mason be dealing with people who were packing? And why would he let them enter the library armed like this?

Who were these people?

Mason nodded at me. “My friends, meet Dr. Erik Cross, the most talented polyglot in the Western hemisphere.”

I looked down at my shoes. “Don’t even listen to the man. He’s exaggerating.”

“No need to be modest, kid. I know what you’re capable of. If anyone can shed light on this manuscript, Erik is the man.”

The dark-haired woman smiled at me, yet her eyes remained cool and appraising.

“Erik, this is Natalia Creed, a good of friend mine who works for the World History Society, and her assistant, Karl,” Mason said.

I searched my memory, but I couldn’t recall ever hearing of a World History Society.

I shook Natalia’s hand and did the same with the big guy who acted as her bodyguard. For a second, I wondered if they might be a couple but quickly ruled out the possibility. Nothing in their body language suggested their connection extended beyond a professional relationship.

Not that it mattered because I was here on business. And I loved Ashley. And even if neither of those things was true, this flinty, leather-clad Amazon would never want anything to do with me.

“I’ve heard a great deal about your father,” Natalia said. “He was a great man. And I hear the apple hasn’t fallen too far from the tree.”

Her words caught me off guard. I felt like a pale shadow compared to my father. Mason must’ve sold me hard to these people.

I eyed my boss curiously, and he nodded at the leather-bound tome waiting for me on the desk.

“The Society recently discovered a secret burial chamber inside a medieval church in England that contained the coffin of a renowned bishop. The book was found in his sarcophagus. Their people have been trying to translate its contents, with limited success so far. I told them if anyone can crack this code, it would be you.”

I shrugged. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

I circled the desk and moved closer to get a better look at the medieval Codex. Natalia and Karl’s eyes followed me intently as I hunched over the leather-bound pages of vellum.

The Latin letters etched in gold into the tome’s leather hide roughly translated into The Reign of the Beast.

Sounds like some light bedtime reading.

I donned a pair of gloves and leafed through the text’s yellowed pages. The parchment crackled, and I breathed in dust.

A glance at the first few pages gave me a sinking sense of disappointment.

For one, I could immediately tell the actual text was composed of a hodgepodge of Latin, Aramaic, Coptic, and Demotic. But even keeping this in mind, the mad scramble of words read like gibberish. The languages had been swapped and rearranged somehow.

This code required a cypher in addition to the command of four languages. The Anglo-Saxons were masters of this form of cryptography, a skill which many historians speculated might be related to the popularity of riddles for which Anglo-Saxon England was famous. Sometimes the ciphers could be found at the end of a manuscript, but I doubted that was the case with this particular text. One thing was certain: I wouldn’t have this puppy translated in time for happy hour.

“Deciphering this text is going to take a while,” I admitted.

Judging by the way the Natalia’s eyes blazed, time was one thing she and her partner didn’t have.

“Do your best, Dr. Cross. We don’t require a full translation. We just need to get a sense what we’re up against here.”

Up against? What did she mean?

Natalia bit her lips, seemingly unhappy with her choice of words.

I took in the first page of gobbledygook.  I needed the cipher if I was going to make heads or tails out of this manuscript.

I was still racking my brain about how to proceed when a bestial roar shook the library.

My eyes jerked away from the text and landed on the creature crouched ten feet in front of us.

The emerald eyes of a black panther glared back at me.

3

The panther faced our small group, a low rumble building in the back of the animal’s throat.

For a surreal beat, I thought I was dreaming. Ferocious jungle cats didn’t typically hang out in libraries.

As the creature’s eyes bored into me, and I caught a flash of razor-sharp teeth, I took a step away from the desk and held my cane up protectively.

Much good it would do against a fearsome predator.

Humanity had reached the top of the food chain because of our big brains and ability to cooperate and form strong social bonds. Armed with weapons and working as a tribe, no beast was our match. Catch us off guard, however, and we were easy prey—our soft, vulnerable bodies putty for the jagged incisors, sharp claws, and ferocious power of such a beast.

I swallowed hard, my mouth turning dry as terror raced up my spine.

Natalia and Karl drew their firearms from under their jackets.

I took little comfort from their quick response. Guns were powerful weapons as long as you hit your target, and I had logged enough hours on the Discovery Channel to know how fast panthers could move. If this beast sprang into action, only an expert marksman could stop the giant cat before it buried its teeth in one of us. The panther felt the same way, remaining visibly unimpressed by the firepower on display.

I was still staring at the beast when a gravely male voice whispered into my ear, “Erik, you must protect the book.”

The strange voice threw me for a loop, and the panther ceased to be my main concern. Where had the mystery speaker come from? Was my terror making me imagine things?

And then I heard another sound, a creaking of wood from above us. My gaze turned upward, and I found a second panther perched on the catwalk that encircled the library walls.

An instant later, reality seemed to speed up as the beast leaped at our group. Natalia and her partner brought up their guns, but their response was a fraction of a second too late.

The ferocious panther landed right on top of Karl and buried him under its weight. A mighty paw flashed out and transformed the man’s face into a raw hamburger meat, cutting off a scream before it could erupt from his lips. Blood sprayed the books near him, turning the spines of priceless manuscripts red.

Natalia fired madly at the creature. A hail of bullets tore into the thick muscles of the beast, and it let go of the rag doll formerly known as Karl.

The beast’s hiss of agony filled the library and its fur smoked, the creature burning up from the inside. A second later, the panther collapsed and mewled softly.

That wasn’t normal.

A chill rippled up my neck as my attention turned back to the first panther. The creature was closing in on Natalia, and judging by its coiled hindlegs, was about to jump.

The woman spun away from the smoking cat she’d filled with lead, her gun up, feet locked in a firing stance.

She squeezed off a few shots at the approaching enemy.

Two bullets missed the fast-moving jungle cat, and then the Glock abruptly stopped firing, the magazine spent.

Natalia ejected the mag and swapped it out for a fresh one. With horror, I realized she wouldn’t pull it off on time. The beast was almost on top of her. She was done for.

Unless I intervened.

Tapping into a reservoir of courage I didn’t know I had, I yelled at the top of my lungs and brandished my cane like a sword.

“Over here, furball! Pick on someone your own damn size!”

Don’t ask me where these words came from or how I generated such commanding strength in my voice. I suspect adrenaline had a lot to do with it.

To my surprise, my ploy worked.

The panther paused.

Turned toward me.

And this momentary distraction was all Natalia needed. I had bought her precious seconds and probably saved her life. Now she just needed to save mine.

She snapped a fresh mag into her Glock.

Fired.

The bullet hit the creature, and it let out a loud yelp before darting off into the darkness.

“All right, hero boy, grab the book and get your ass out of here.”

The voice in my head sounded louder now. No longer could I dismiss it as a product of my overactive imagination. Someone was mentally communicating with me.

I stared at the manuscript that had become a ticket to a nightmare. Before I consciously understood what I was doing, I had already snatched the book. The leather volume felt hot to the touch, the tome radiating a strange, unexpected heat. As I pulled the book close, I heard the voice again.

“Now run. Run for your life, Erik!”

The mystery speaker didn’t have to repeat those words. Book in hand, I burst into motion. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mason taking off too. I followed his example and made a go for the doorway ten feet up ahead. I knew from past visits that the door led into the main section of the library.

How did I expect to outrace the panthers? An Olympic runner would have failed to escape from these black streaks of lightning, much less someone in my pathetic physical condition. I guess logic had taken a backseat to my terror.

As I reached the door, I foolishly hazarded a glance backward. I caught movement in the shadows, and a pair of emerald eyes fixed on me. Was this the same creature Natalia had wounded or a new beast? The monster staring back at me from the darkness wasn’t interested in the gun-toting Amazon or avenging his fallen brethren. The cat’s attention was focused on… me.

Correction, not me, but the book in my hands.

Fuck.

“Move your ass, boy!” The voice in my head was screaming at me now.

The panther in the shadows roared, and my mind went blank. Natalia spun in the direction of the sound and unleashed a second volley into the blackness. Adrenaline exploded through my veins, and my legs sprang into motion of their own volition. I did not know if Natalia had hit the beast or not, but I didn’t plan on hanging around and finding out.

I prayed Mason and Natalia would be okay as I tore into the next room, driven by mortal fear. My legs pumped like pistons, terror pushing my broken body beyond its limits and propelling me past the shelves of books. I knew this exertion would ultimately take a terrible toll on my body, but I wouldn’t worry about that right now. Only one thing mattered—survival.

I sprinted down the corridor of bookshelves as fast as my half-crippled body allowed me to, madly turning left then right, edging deeper into the labyrinth of the stacks in the hopes I might shake off my feline pursuers. This strategy would have paid off if humans had been hunting me, but an animal didn’t track prey purely by sight. The senses of these jungle creatures was superhuman.

I slowed down, my body rebelling against the rough treatment. Walls of books closed in on me like the blades of a compactor. A place that had been my favorite refuge from the world and had provided me with countless hours of pleasure was now filled with menace.

Anger bubbled up inside of me. These creatures had violated my inner sanctum, marked it with death and bloodshed. Even if through some miracle I survived this day, the horrific events would forever taint this cherished place.

“Stop being a crybaby, kid! Hide the book while you can!”

The voice stopped me dead in its tracks. The mystery speaker had come to the same grim conclusion about my chances of getting out of this maze in one piece. There was no escape for me, but there was still a chance I could prevent the tome from falling into the monster’s claws.

A hissing roar reverberated through the library, reminding me that the panthers were on my tail.

I scoped out my surroundings, took in the shelves crammed with printed material. For a split second, I considered stuffing the book into a shelf but decided against hiding it in plain sight. Bad idea. That wouldn’t work. The book’s burnished leather binding would make it stick out too much when placed next to the other titles. There had to a better hiding spot.

My gaze fell on the antique wooden world globe sitting on a stand at the far end of the aisle. It contained a hidden compartment. That would have to do since I couldn’t think of anywhere else.

I rushed up to the globe and depressed the button that made the top pop open. I remember the day Mason had shown me the secret compartment. He’d joked at the time that this was where he stashed his bourbon for those days when he didn’t get to leave the library until the wee hours of the night.

As the globe’s dome dramatically swung open, I almost expected it to reveal the secrets of the universe, or at least offer me a glimpse at Mason’s stash of hooch. It was empty, however, and I swiftly placed the book inside it.

Heart hammering away in my chest, I sealed the globe and limped down the next narrow passageway of books. As my broken body lurched through the library like a modern-day Quasimodo, I must’ve cut a pitiful figure.

My mind reeled, logic unable to make sense of the strangeness around me. What were panthers doing in a library? How could they display near-human intelligence? And why would these beasts chase after a medieval text? None of it made a lick of damn sense.

My life had taken a sharp turn into the Twilight Zone.

And it was about to get weirder.

A dark silhouette suddenly rounded the corner up ahead, blocking my passage and forcing me to stop. The shadowy shape was too tall and muscular to be either Mason or Natalia.

The figure moved, took a step toward me and edged into the light.

My breath caught in my throat.

The person facing me was part human, part beast, a hybrid creature who stood erect on two legs. Black fur covered a curvy female body, but the head was that of a ferocious panther. Both the hands and feet ended in paws studded with curved claws.

A werepanther.

The female panther-beast eyed me with bloodthirsty satisfaction and drew back its lips, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

I feebly raised my cane.

“If you think your little stick can tame this monster, you have another thing coming to you,” the voice in my head said.

Tell me something I don’t know, I thought irritably.

Saliva dripped from the beast’s open maw, and I caught a faint whiff of its foul breath. It unleashed a terrible roar and bounded toward me like a cannonball.

An instant later, the beast was on top of me, and I found myself on the carpeted floor, struggling to remain conscious after the collision. It was like a freight train had run me over. An almost pleasant heat radiated from my right shoulder and expanded over one side of my face.

I craned my neck and with horror realized that I was covered in blood, the source of the spreading warmth.

The creature had taken a goddamn bite out of me; the shoulder wound looked like a crushed grape. I flashed back to my fateful car accident. I hadn’t seen so much blood pour from my body since that fateful day.

I tried to push against the savage creature, under no illusion I could stop the beast but hoping to at least make the mauling a little more difficult. I knew the panther would have laughed right into my hemorrhaging face if it could express such human emotions.

There was solely one thing I could do at his point: pass out and die before the beast took another vicious bite out of me.

I was about to do just that when I felt the medallion around my neck heat up, and the giant weight of the monster being lifted from me. A blue aura of light engulfed the panther lady and flung her off me before she could deliver the death blow.

What was happening?

I twisted my head weakly, and a wave of agony shot through my side.

Through a pair of bleary eyes, I spotted the werepanther about ten feet away from me. The creature hissed in pain and shock as blue energy crackled around her muscular hide, the same light that emanated from my father’s amulet. Had the medallion protected me against the attack somehow? More likely this was just a hallucination in the final moments of my life.

My wild speculation ended when the beast staggered back to its feet, the blue light already growing fainter. My medallion might have warded off the first assault, but the creature was quickly regaining its strength. Its green eyes blazed with a voracious hunger, eager for a rematch.

I steeled myself for the inevitable mauling. I wondered if Mason had safely made it out of the library. I thought of my father and mother, and whether they’d be there to greet me on the other side. Most of all I thought of Ashley. I felt like such a fool for not having pursued the lovely psychology professor.

My mind went blank with fear as the panther rose to its full height, red-stained teeth bared and eager to tear into my flesh again.

The beast took a step in my direction, hissed a hot, wet sound, and bunched its powerful muscles, about to launch itself at me.

And that’s when the world exploded with gunfire.

The hail of bullets missed the female panther creature which darted off into the shadows.

My blurry gaze peered up at Natalia. She sported a smoking pistol in her hand.

Suddenly, the darkness behind her rippled.

“Watch out!”

Natalia spun toward a male panther hybrid which had popped from the darkness. He’d probably joined the fight to protect the female were who’d bitten me.

This time the burst of bullets from Natalia’s gun found their target. Bullets punched into the creature’s torso and flung it to the ground.

The hybrid beast let out a pain-filled rattle of air and grew still.

My blood still seeping into the carpet, I watched as the lifeless werepanther began to change. The teeth retracted, the fur thinned, the animalistic features became human. Seconds later the lifeless eyes of a naked, dead man stared back at me.

Nothing made sense anymore. Would the horrors ever stop today?

I heard approaching footsteps, my body unable to experience fear any longer as it went into shock. It was over. I was about to die.

Natalia kneeled before me. She almost looked sad.

“Where’s the book, Erik?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer the question as my face went numb, and the world turned dark.

As reality faded out, the last noise I heard sounded a lot like a panther’s roar.

4

I dreamt of monstrous giant panthers stalking me through a series of endless underground tunnels filled with ancient coffins, books, and artifacts. I felt the hot, stinking breath of the massive cats running down the nape of my neck, inhaled the copper scent of blood. It was my blood, my whole body covered in catastrophic bite marks. I looked like I’d become the favorite chew toy for a bunch of jungle cats.

And then one of the panthers peeled from the shadows and rippled toward me, claws and fangs ready to finish me off.

I let out a scream and woke up in a hospital bedroom with a series of IVs attached to my body and with zero clue how long I’d been out for or how I’d gotten there. A heartbeat monitor steadily beeped to my right, suggesting that my life signs were stable.

The sterile, white surroundings felt intimately familiar. The last time I’d found myself in a hospital had been ten years earlier after my horrific car accident. Numbed on painkillers and barely able to process what was happening, the whole experience had become a blur. When the meds had finally worn off, I’d been in a world of hurt that continued all the way into my agonizing rehabilitation.

Today was the exact opposite. I felt healthy and invigorated, my mind sharp and vibrant. Whatever drugs I was on, they were making me feel great without dulling the edges of my perception. I wanted to leap out of my hospital bed and bound straight out of this depressing place.

I’d spent months bedridden during my original hospital stay. This time, I had no intention of remaining here for a single extra night.

I looked down at myself. I wore a white hospital gown and thick gauze covered my shoulder.

Taking in the bandages, the macabre events of the library assaulted my mind in a series of flashes. I remembered the panther creature burying its knife-like teeth into my flesh, remembered the blood and screams and roars that had echoed all the way into my nightmare.

It was a damn miracle I was alive. Well, the miracle in this case was the striking young woman who’d shot the creature before it killed me.

Thoughts of Natalia Creed made me flash back to that insane moment when the panther had turned human. That triggered other memories. My brain turned to the strange medieval text I’d stashed inside the globe—and the alien voice in my head telling me to run and hide the book.

Was I losing my mind? How could any of this this be possible?

My right hand instinctively reached under my shirt for my medallion. The docs would have most likely stripped off any jewelry before stitching me up. To my surprise, the amulet rested against my chest and was warm to the touch. There was no sign of the mysterious blue energy I’d experienced back at the library.

It all seemed so fantastic and outrageous, and for a split second, I wondered whether I might have gotten into another car accident on my way to see Mason and dreamt up the whole thing while in a coma. The bandages around my shoulder seemed to rule out such a scenario.

And talking about Mason, I sure hoped he was okay.

Suddenly, a pressing need hit me. I had to relieve my bladder.

Welcome back to reality, Erik!

Unfortunately, I was strapped in with IVs and other cables. I eyed the nurse call button for a beat. I had vowed never to use a bedpan again in my life, but I also didn’t want a stranger helping me pee. Before I could talk myself out of it, I decisively pulled off the tangle of tubes and rushed toward the bathroom.

As I crossed the room, I felt stronger than I had in years. My legs tingled with energy and power, and there was a spring in my step. I didn’t feel like someone who’d almost become cat chow.

I flipped on the light and walked up to the toilet bowl. A shiver of delight ran down my back as I emptied my bladder. Who knew such a simple act could feel so frigging good?

As I relieved myself, something felt different. I glanced up at a nearby mirror and froze. My medallion, which normally rested on a scrawny chest, now sat on a well-developed set of muscles.  Mighty guns framed bulging pecs and perfect six-pack abs. I looked like a poster boy for a gym membership.

What the fuck?

And I suddenly realized that my shoulder didn’t even hurt. The wound should’ve throbbed like crazy even hopped up on painkillers.

Following a sudden hunch, I tore the bandages off. My next breath caught in my throat. The giant bite mark had healed, and only a vague outline of scar tissue served as a reminder of the panther attack.

Fear gripped me. How was this possible? How many days had I been out for? Visions of discovering that I’d just woken from a year-long coma went through my mind. But people didn’t stir from comas looking like Mr. Universe. So what the hell could explain my body’s amazing transformation?

I was still racking my brain for answers when I picked up approaching footsteps.

I peered back into the hospital room, but it remained empty. The steps were emanating from farther down the hallway—on the other side of a closed door. How could I hear sounds through these thick walls?

This day was getting nuttier by the minute. I still felt afraid, but below the churning terror, another emotion reared its head—exhilaration.

What was happening to me?

“It’s simple, Erik. The beast has cursed you.”

I grew stock still. It was the same voice I’d first heard in my head back in the library.

It was official. I was losing my goddamn mind.

“On the contrary, my erudite friend. You’re perfectly sane. The sooner you accept the reality of what’s happening to you, the better your odds of making it through the night.”

“Who are you?” I whispered, a part of me marveling at myself for even entertaining this dialogue.

“My name is Kolvak. And I’m a warlock.”

“A war-?”

“Four hundred years ago, I was burned at the stake by my boneheaded neighbors. I had no other choice than to transfer my soul into the amulet you wear around your neck. You don’t understand how much mental effort it took for me to stop those doctors from taking it off you when they first brought you in to this accursed place.”

I shook my head with growing disbelief. “This can’t be happening.”

I clutched the medallion and was more than tempted to tear it off my neck.

Without warning, it grew painfully hot to the touch, and I let go of the talisman.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the warlock advised.

“What are you talking about?” I replied before I could tell myself this whole exchange was merely a figment of my imagination.

“The curse of Bastet.”

“Bastet?”

“I thought you were a professor of archeology. Don’t they teach you damn kids classic mythology anymore?”

The warlock’s words gave me pause. Of course I’d heard of Bastet, the Egyptian goddess with a human body and the head of a cat.

“I know who Bastet is…”

“Great, give the man a cigar and sign up for Jeopardy. I hope you remember what happened to the panther that attacked you after that lovely monster hunter pumped the beast full of silver.”

Monster Hunter. Silver. Fuck, the voice was losing me again.

“Okay, let me break this down to you. Just like the creature that took a bite out of you, you’ll change into a were-panther.”

Silently, I shook my head. I refused to accept what I already knew deep down in my soul.

“The blood of the panther is in your veins now. All too soon, you’ll transform into a murderous, rampaging—”

No! If the warlock chattering away in my head was telling the truth, the curse had restored me physically and then some. But it would come at a terrible price.

“But don’t get your panties in a bunch. There’s hope for you yet. Thanks to yours truly.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice shook as I spoke.

“I can hold the darkness at bay. As long you wear the medallion around your neck, your mind will remain human while your body undergoes the change.”

I looked at the amulet. If I wasn’t having a mental breakdown of some sort, then the little disc of metal might be the only thing separating man and beast.

These charged thoughts were still firing up my synapses when the door to my hospital opened and a nurse sauntered inside. The woman stared at me as I stood buck naked in the doorway of the bathroom.

To my surprise, the nurse didn‘t quite share my embarrassment. Judging by her admiring glances, she enjoyed looking at me after she had recovered from the initial shock. I had gone from zero to hero, weakling to stud, and a part of me basked in the immediate attention despite my red-faced embarrassment. It had been years since any woman had looked at me with anything but pity or maternal concern.

Her expression stirred something inside me, and I swiftly snatched the hospital gown and covered my privates before sailor boy woke up.

For a moment we stared at each, and then the cute nurse took off without a word.

“What the hell just happened?” I mumbled under my breath.

“I think that nurse was ready to jump your bones. The curse comes with a few perks as you noticed yourself. Besides your new body, you give off pheromones that will make you irresistible to most women.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said.

“The good news is you might get laid a little more than you have in the past. The bad news is that both the Followers of Bastet and the League of Light will come after your ass.”

Followers of Bastet? The League of Light? Had everyone lost their minds? What had I gotten myself into? I was still trying to make heads or tails out of all this when the door opened again, and a doctor entered with a different nurse in tow. He smiled at me as he approached.

“I see you’re feeling better. Your recovery is miraculous considering the amount of blood you’ve lost.”

I stared at the doc, at a loss for words. There was something off about his smile. He eased closer, the smile on his face unwavering as his hand vanished in the pocket of his knee-length white smock and came up with a curved dagger.

The silver knife lashed out at my chest, but I stopped the blade with my right hand in mid-strike.

My fingers clamped, vicelike, around the wannabe assassin’s wrist, the tip of the knife hovering inches over my heart, promising instant death. The doc sure had a strange interpretation of the Hippocratic oath.

The nurse drew a Glock, confirming my suspicion that both of these people needed to work on their bedside manner.

“Meet the monster hunters of the League of Light,” the warlock explained.

I gritted my teeth. People were trying to stab and shoot me while a dead warlock was offering me a play-by-play running commentary. Suddenly, I missed my nice, boring lecture hall full of dozing students with all my heart.

I snapped the fake doctor’s wrist, who howled in agony as he dropped his silver knife. My next move was to swing the bastard at the nurse with the gun.

The doctor slammed into his homicidal helper, and they both collapsed in a sprawl as the shot from the Glock went wild.

I burst into motion and zoomed past them, determined to get out of this place. A beat later, I emerged from the room into a sterile, antiseptic hospital corridor, the sickening smell of chemical cleaners permeating the air. Or maybe my enhanced senses had become more sensitive to them.

I took a few steps and found myself facing down another group of medical staff who had to be members of the strange monster hunting league in disguise.

My lips twisted into a snarl as I barreled through the trio, knocking them on their asses like bowling pins before they could empty their silver-loaded arsenal into me.

As I plowed down the hallway, the fear and shock lifted. Crazy as it may sound, a mad joy gripped me and made me doubt my sanity. Even with fanatical assassins on my ass, I couldn’t contain the thrill my new body was giving me. I was running faster than I ever had in my life, and I was barely out of breath.

Fucking incredible.

I wondered what else I might be capable of.

My moment of happiness was cut short as gunshots shook the corridor, and a hail of bullets whizzed past me.

“I know you’re on cloud nine, kid, but those are silver bullets, and they will fuck you up. You understand?”

I understood. I couldn’t get cocky.

I took Kolvak’s advice to heart and fled the hallway, where I was an easy target. I barreled through a nearby door and found myself on a spacious staircase.

I was about to shoot down the stairs when I spotted three more members of the medical staff who’d traded their stethoscopes for guns.

A burst of gunfire erupted from below, and I made a quick about-face and bounded up the stairs instead. I took multiple steps at a time, moving with the grace and power of the jungle beast whose blood supposedly roared in my veins.

“Doubt my words if you like, but all too soon you’ll transform into a monster.”

Nice way to spoil the mood, Kolvak.

Boots slapped the stairs above me.  More enemies incoming from above.

This phalanx of new badasses was decked out in combat black, unlike the first wave that had pretended to be hospital staff. The laser lights of their assault rifles swept over me, and I froze in my tracks.

I had reached the end of the line.

Below me, footsteps grew louder, my pursuers closing in.

You’re fucked, buddy. Hope you had fun while it lasted.

And with that happy thought cycling through my mind, a pain like none I had ever experienced in my life before racked my body.

I toppled over. The sound of bones breaking and reshaping themselves echoed through the stairwell.

Even though the black-clad assault team in front of me wore helmets with dark visors, I knew they were watching me in rapt fascination.

And terror.

I didn’t blame them. It’s not every day that you see a man transform into a fucking panther.

5

The beast was waking up inside of me, eager to break free from its cage.

I felt it stir deep within my soul, an alien, ancient presence separate from my mind. There was a sudden savagery to my thoughts as visions of blood and death flooded my head. I experienced the creature’s ravenous hunger, sensed its growing rage, heard its roar building at the edge of my awareness. My eyes exploded with a stabbing pain, which quickly spread to the rest of my body. All over my body, my skin prickled as if I was being stung by hundreds of needles.

For a split second, I flashed back to the fateful day of the accident when I was a teenager. I was back in the Mustang, drunk out of my mind and unable to form a coherent thought as the road soared past me like a racetrack in a videogame.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a tree jumped into view. And it was headed right toward me it at sixty miles per hour!

Reality sped up, my body bracing against the imminent collision.

I was beyond fear. There was only me, the car, the tree…

Followed by the devastating impact.

Metal warped and shrieked and wrapped around my flesh, tearing muscles, breaking bones, rearranging my anatomy. I was being torn apart from the inside out.

Don’t even ask me how many teeth I lost that day.

Dimly, I realized that the replay of my terrible accident was a trick of the mind—my brain’s way of making sense of my torturous transformation from a man into a beast.

The roar of the Mustang’s engine now morphed into the animalistic roar bursting from my throat and jolted me back to the present.

Darkness pulsed in every fiber of my being as muscles flexed and thickened, stretching my flesh until it transformed into a dark, mottled hide.

The hospital gown split at the seams, unable to contain my expanding frame. My spine began to bow with small clicking sounds and a horrible pressure of squeezed vertebrae.

With audible snaps, fingers elongated and turned into razor-sharp talons. My incisors lengthened while invisible hands seemed to sculpt my skull into a monster mask.

It felt like all my bones were breaking and being reset while bands of thick black fur spread all over my skin.

The Curse of Bastet.

Three little words that didn’t do justice to the hell I was experiencing.

I was being ripped apart and rebuilt into a grotesque travesty of my former self.

Through a veil of pain, I saw the three badasses in their body armor level their rifles at me. I smelled the quivering, sweaty fear under those intimidating combat helmets.

Another roar ripped from my throat, and I charged towards them, new instincts taking over.

Already the pain was subsiding, the change having run its course.

For ten long years, I had avoided confrontation when I could—it’s not wise for a cripple to get into a fight.

I might’ve mentioned this before, but the accident changed me in more ways than one. I’d been a tough kid with a chip on my shoulder. You picked a fight with me back in those younger days, and you got one helluva fight. Didn’t mean shit to me if you were bigger, older, or meaner.

You could beat me to a bloody pulp, smash my nose, turn my face into raw hamburger meat, but I’d keep on coming like the Energizer Bunny. I wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t give up. After twenty minutes of me throwing punches at even the biggest, dumbest bully, they would get the message:

Don’t mess with this kid. Erik Cross is fucking crazy.

I don’t know what happened to all that rage, but it was gone after I was discharged from the hospital. Amazing what a car crash and six months of physical rehabilitation can do to you. My accident didn’t merely shatter my body; it broke my spirit and took my balls. Or perhaps it gave me some smarts, teaching me that actions can have consequences.

You know what they say, analysis creates paralysis.

Well, no longer. The beast now in charge had no patience for analysis, didn’t give a damn about consequences. With a fearsome roar, I leaped into action.

To sum things up—Erik Cross had his balls back.

I showed no fear, displayed zero hesitation as I pounced at the helmeted monster hunter who was targeting me with his assault rifle. My claws tore through his steel body armor as if it was made of paper. The helmet’s glass visor shattered, the shot went wild, and the man went flying.

I whirled and knocked off another hunter’s helmet before he could pull the trigger, revealing the terrified kid under the steel mask. The next swipe drew blood and catapulted the wannabe-killer into the nearest wall.

The third guy met a similar fate, and then I was leaping up the stairs with shouts and bullets erupting behind me. The violent sounds might have terrified me once, but now the screams and gunfire felt like music to my ears.

Even though I hadn’t turned into a full panther, I used my arms almost like forelegs. I bounded up those stairs with surefooted leaps, an engine designed for speed. Taking five steps at a time, I left my human pursuers in the dust. Bullets whizzed past me, but instead of fear, I only experienced a savage glee — the thrill of being able to move again.

Whatever I’d transformed into sure didn’t need the help of a cane to get around.

The voice in my head had claimed it could tame the beast. Control it.

But I didn’t want to be tamed. I relished my newfound freedom and power.

“Trust me, kid, if that big brain of yours wasn’t in charge of this hairy beast, there would be no survivors. You’re still in the driver’s seat, so don’t do anything stupid!”

I barely listened to the disembodied warlock as I barreled through a steel door at the top of the flight of stairs. A gust of night air greeted me, wind ruffling my coat. I didn’t feel the cold, my fur-covered body protecting me from the elements as I bounded across the roof.

I looked down at the traffic slithering through the cement arteries below. About ten stories separated me from the street

“Don’t get cocky,” the warlock warned. “Even in this new form, you won’t survive a fall from this height—much less a hail of silver bullets.”

Thanks for the pep talk, bud.

My eyes narrowed as I took in the glittering skyline of downtown Los Angeles splayed out before me. The night was alive with sounds and sights and smells, my senses kicking into overdrive. Details usually masked by darkness revealed themselves to my enhanced vision. I spotted thin tendrils of smoke emanating from the chimneys of neighboring roofs, a couple making out on a bench two blocks up ahead, birds stirring from their rooftop nesting places, startled by my presence.

Smart critters. They knew a predator was among them now.

My ears suddenly turned in a different direction—a freaky but neat trick. I could hear voices, snippets of conversation that drifted toward me from hospital rooms where patients had left their windows open—tiny glimpses into other lives, other tragedies.

And then there were the smells: the stink of exhaust mixed with the rotting garbage drifting from the dumpster-infested alleys below. The smell of sizzling fat coming from the Mexican man who was hawking bacon-wrapped hot dogs on the next block. And dominating all these heady scents, the intoxicating perfume of blood. This last smell wafted from behind the roof access door and most likely came from the monster hunters who’d experienced the power of my claws.

The beast inside me perked up and growled in frustration, demanding I return to the staircase and finish my enemies.

No, I’m in charge here!

I was no slave to this beast. It served me.

“Now you’re getting the hang of it, kid.”

Perhaps. But resisting the call of the blood took all my self-discipline, and I already felt depleted fighting the needs of the monster trying to dominate my mind.

As my gaze fell over the roof, it locked on my reflection in a puddle of water. The moon shone brightly above, offering a clear view of what I’d become. Neither man nor beast, a thing frozen in mid-transformation from one form to the other.

The Wolfman meets a jungle cat—majestic and terrifying all at the same time. This thing bore no resemblance to my former self except for a sparkle in the slitted, green glowing eyes, a touch of humanity in the face of a monster. A black-colored nose wrinkled from left to right, and I marveled at my thickly whiskered muzzle and the gleaming row of razor-sharp upper teeth. Muscles rippled along my powerful body.

My snout flared, detecting an unusual smell—onions mixed with coffee and cheap aftershave.

I spun around, my nostrils homing in on the origin of the scent.

It was coming from the nearby rooftop.

A second later, a shadow on the other roof moved, and I spotted a man crouched behind a parapet, a high-powered sniper rifle fixed on me.

How many of these assholes were trying to take a shot at me?

“The League of Light leaves nothing up to chance,” the warlock said helpfully.

No shit.

About twenty feet separated me from my would-be-assassin. A hop, skip, and a jump in my current form. Some animal part of my brain knew I could cross the gap with no problem, and I sprang into action.

There was no hesitation as I leaped over the edge.

No fear of falling. No fear of death.

Cats have nine lives, right?

I soared through the night air, unfazed by the yawning abyss below as silver bullets whizzed past me.

The man on the roof pivoted in my direction, desperate to level his weapon at the incoming panther monster.

I smelled his terror, tasted his imminent defeat.

And then I was upon him.

My claws tore his body armor in half, and the next swipe drew deep gouges into the soft tissue below his throat.

The assassin hit the ground and didn’t stir. Unconscious but far from dead judging by the steady rhythm of his heart.

I took a deep breath of the man’s blood, hunger bubbling up inside of me. And my new appetite terrified me more than any gun that my new enemies could point at me.

I was a monster now. And if it hadn’t been for the magic of the medallion around my neck…

“You got that right, kid! Without the necklace, this poor sap would be nothing but a tasty snack to you.”

Revulsion stirred in the pit of my stomach, and the beast inside me laughed at my squeamishness.

My weakness.

My humanity.

I peered skyward, almost expecting to be looking up at a full moon. I didn’t know if any of the tales about werewolves applied to the thing I’d become. A crescent moon sliced the night sky like a druid’s sickle, so maybe the whole transform-during-the-full-moon rule was nothing but a myth.

“The stories are true to a degree. It’s just a little more complicated.”

“Feel free to fill me in when you have a sec.”

Before the warlock could delve into any further details, I heard the creaking sound of a metal door swinging open.

Without hesitation, I spun back to the hospital roof access door and settled into a springing stance as the members of my new fan club arrived.

I studied the team of monster hunters in their insectile helmets and body armor. The masks hid their faces, and I couldn’t help but think I was looking at an army of robot killers from some far-flung future.

I felt reasonably safe. The twenty-foot gap between the two rooftops might be a simple jump for me, but there was no way these assholes would clear the difference without the help of a grappling hook or rope.

Still, I couldn’t get careless now. I was definitely within range of their weapons. As they drew rifles and pistols, I sensed this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Suddenly, another figure appeared on the hospital roof. Natalia Creed had arrived on the scene.

The female monster hunter stared at me, her striking features unreadable despite my heightened animal senses.

The lady had a killer poker face.

Then I remembered she wasn’t just a beautiful woman whose life I had saved—she was part of this craziness.

A member of the League of Light. A monster hunter.

Had they found the book I’d hidden inside the globe? And if they’d known I would become a beast after being bitten by the panther monster, why had they not finished me while I was out for the count back in the library? Why cart me off to the local hospital only to send a hit squad after me?

Something didn’t add up here, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to look for answers.

I first had to get out of here alive.

I unleashed a savage roar, and the armed men backed off.

“Don’t engage them. There are too many, Erik. You’re still learning how to use this body.”

The voice in my head sure sounded like it wanted me to cut and run.

The old me would have no problem cutting a hasty retreat in the face of danger. The beast I’d become hated to turn its back on a good fight.

I wanted to tell Kolvak off, but something about the way these armed badasses continued to watch me gave me pause.

They were waiting for me to engage them, I realized, waiting for me to make a mistake.

These monster hunters were itching for a fight.

Going a round with a werepanther was probably just another day at the office for them.

I believed I could take them, but what if I was wrong?

“You’re coming to your senses, kid. Run away and live to fight another day.”

One of the masked monster hunters looked like he was ready to pull his trigger. I sensed that if they fired, the savage monster inside me wouldn’t be able to resist a fight. The call to draw fresh blood would become too strong.

“Get the fuck out of here while you still have a chance, Erik. If your father had listened to me all those years ago, he might’ve gotten to see his son grow up.”

Those last words hit me like a kick to the throat, and I forgot to exhale.

“What did you just say?”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but first get your hairy ass the hell off this roof.”

How do you make a disembodied voice spill the beans? It’s not like I could grab Kolvak by the collar and shake the information out of him. Or threaten him with physical harm. Fangs and teeth wouldn’t impress the dead warlock.

I only had one option here. Follow Kolvak’s advice and hope he would remember his promise after we made our getaway.

“You’re wasting precious time. Leave now before it’s too late.”

I felt tempted to let out one more roar for good measure—I guess the beast enjoyed making a dramatic exit.

“I advise against this no matter satisfying it might feel. The League of Light boys had itchy trigger fingers.”

Someone sure was no fun.

I let out a disappointed growl, pivoted and leaped behind the roof’s access hatch. I expected it to rain lead—or silver in this case—but the hunters didn't fire a single bullet. I guess they realized this round went to the panther man.

“The technical term is werepanther. Or shifter.”

Whatever.

As I cut through the night, moving at breakneck speed, leaping from one rooftop to the next as if I was trying out for a role in a remake of The Matrix, I experienced none of the angst you’d expect for a fellow in my hairy situation (pun intended). The same mad joy I’d felt when I first took down those armed assholes gripped me—a sense of unbridled freedom.

A sense of power. Of complete control.

I quickly lost track of how many rooftops I crossed before I felt safe enough to slow down. I landed on a warehouse roof that faced a giant billboard advertising some gentleman’s club and paused, feeling confused. I’m not usually the kind of dude who goes to strip clubs, but I’m still a man. I wasn’t immune to the charms of a scantily clad lady. But the exotic dancers’ hairless flesh was repellant to the beast inside me.

This part freaked me out almost as much as the whole turning into a big monster cat thing.

I was slowly calming down when another alarming thought occurred to me. In this new mad world of magic and monsters I’d stumbled into, perhaps the hunters were using some sophisticated form of tracking magic…

“The League of Light frowns upon spells and all forms of magic. These joyless Puritans equate all magic with evil.”

“They sure sound like a fun bunch. Maybe I should have them over for a game of D&D one of these nights.”

“I hope you realize the seriousness of this situation.”

“I’m fucked, I get it. What else do you want to share with me?”

“Don’t underestimate these fanatics. The League of Light is driven by one goal—to eradicate this world of every supernatural creature.”

The warlock’s voice shook with rage. What were these guys to Kolvak?

The warlock answered my unspoken question. “It was the League of Light which burned me at the stake all those centuries ago.”

Okay, that would explain why there was little love lost between the warlock and the League. But Kolvak had been dead for a really long time.

“Holy shit. How long have these fuckers been around?”

“Too long.”

I considered this for a beat. Then: “On another note, you said, you would tell me what happened to my father…”

Before Kolvak could offer me the promised explanation, another sound drew my attention. Shouts and sharp taunts from the streets below. I swiftly moved toward the edge of the warehouse roof and focused my attention on the alley five stories below.

A quick glance revealed a familiar drama, the sort of depressing shit that happened every day all across the planet—the strong preying on the weak. Three teenage punks seemed to be trying out for an asshole-of-the-year award as they kept shouting obscenities at an elderly man who, going by his ragged appearance, was most likely homeless.

The punks were laughing and having a good old time making the old man’s life miserable, which brought my blood to a boil. The beast stirred, the creature sensing an opportunity to draw blood again.

Down boy!

“Don’t tell me you want to waste your time on these miscreants?”

My answer was to jump in the alley below. Seconds later, my roar cut through the night.

My arrival sent a bunch of rats skittering, both of the four-legged and two-legged variety.

One look at me and these assholes took off screaming. I guess they’d never seen a panther man before. Maybe they should get out more.

Shit, sometimes I crack myself up.

The timing was perfect, too, as the first rays of dawn lanced the trash-infested alley.

As soon as sunlight enveloped me, I changed into my human form. Muscles shrank and bones straightened, black fur rippled and drew back into the skin while my curved talons retracted. The jaw and facial bones made popping sounds as they rearranged themselves. A sensation of raw, needling pain…and I was back to my old self again.

My heart slammed in my chest as blood oozed from my fingernails — the blood of my enemies. I resisted the temptation to lick them clean. My beast slavered with hunger while my human side fought back a wave of disgust.

The homeless man stared at me open-mouthed, rooted in place by his terror.

I guess he wasn’t sure whether to break out into a scream or thank the nude man for chasing his tormentors away. Couldn’t blame him.

And then, to my surprise, the bum slipped out of his trench coat and handed me the ragged piece of clothing.

I gratefully accepted the coat and put it on. The material felt coarse against my bare skin and reeked, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Thanks, man,” I said and vanished down the alley.

I needed to get home, eat about six cheeseburgers, and then…well, part of me wondered what a certain psych professor would think of my newfound muscles. For the second time in my life, my entire world had been turned upside down. But this time, things had changed for the better, right? I ran down the street, still believing there was a way to pick up the pieces of my old life.

Man, would I turn out to be wrong about that one.

As I would learn soon enough, there would be no turning back for me. There was only the dark road that lay ahead.

My past had belonged to Erik Cross, mild-mannered professor of archeology.

My future belonged to the Panther Man.

6

I was jogging through Koreatown at an impressive clip for a man who wasn’t wearing any shoes. Or underwear.

Thankfully, the homeless man’s tattered trench coat hid most of my anatomy. I would have hated to traumatize the few pedestrians out and about at this hour. Even though the coat stank like a dead skunk (and that was without the full benefit of enhanced senses), wearing the smelly coat still beat the alternative of loping through the city in my birthday suit.

Blood roared through my arteries, bringing precious oxygen to my lungs, which inflated and deflated with machine precision. My bare feet slapped the sidewalk while I pounded down one block after another. The soles of my feet should have been raw and bloody by now, but I guess the curse of Bastet was protecting me. Whatever magic had reshaped me remained active to a degree while in my human form. My senses were sharper, my skin more hardened, and my constitution far more robust. And it turns out that running without shoes felt kinda nice. Hell, running period felt terrific after a decade of struggling to walk to my car with a cane.

Every part of my anatomy worked like the pistons of a fine-tuned machine. Even though I’d been running for miles, I hadn’t broken into a sweat nor was I out of breath. Physically, I felt stronger than I ever had in my life. As to my mental state? Now that was a whole other matter. The earlier elation had given way to the somber realization that not only was I am a monster now, but a team of trained killers was hunting me. The beast inside me remained unimpressed by the League of Light, but the human part was fucking terrified.

What were my options here? Was there a cure for this affliction? Would I even want my old body back?

I mean, was it really that bad?

Kolvak had called my condition a curse, but as long as I wore the medallion around my neck, I remained in full control of the monster whose blood now pumped through my veins.

“You’re in charge—for now. Unfortunately, the power of the medallion goes only so far,” my friendly neighborhood warlock said. “The beast wants to get out and roam free.”

“Well, then I’ll let it roam.”

“The panther’s idea of roaming involves killing and eating people. And I’m afraid that I won’t be able to hold off that impulse forever.”

Kolvak really had a talent for putting a dampener on anything.

“What exactly are you saying?”

“At some point soon, you must take a life to keep the panther in check. And that might not even be enough to satiate the beast in the long run.”

Kolvak was freaking me out now.

“What do you mean?”

“Controlling the creature is taking a lot out of me. I don’t know how long I'll be able to hold the beast at bay.”

Great! The warlock was basically telling me that I’d soon turn into a murderer as well as a monster.

I picked up my pace as if I could outrun the curse. The faster I ran, the fewer things seem to bother me. Pounding down city streets with my bare feet was therapeutic on some level. I felt strong and untamed and believed I could keep going like this all day long, all the way to my Culver City apartment.

“That’s another bad idea, kid. The League will expect such a move and have a hit squad already waiting for you at your place.”

Jesus, was the good news ever going stop?

“So what do you suggest I do?” I snapped.

“I don’t know. You’re kinda screwed.”

“Thanks. That’s super-helpful. Remind me to not ask you for advice ever again.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got myself bitten by a werepanther.”

This last comment brought our conversation to a dead halt.

I considered my options as I tore across an intersection just as the light turned red. I ignored the dirty looks of early morning commuters and their angry honks as I cut through traffic with the speed and grace of a gazelle.

Never compare yourself to prey, a dark voice inside me whispered.

The beast was right. I ran with the power of the panther.

Not that the drivers zipping past me seemed all that impressed by my newfound athleticism, if their bored expressions were any indicator. You gotta love LA.

My mind churned as my legs pumped. I mulled over my options as the city streaked past me. I couldn’t go home. Couldn’t go back to my old life. But I also needed clothes and shoes and a hot shower. A place where I could hide and plan my next move.

And then it hit me. I knew someone who lived close by.

Adjunct psychology professor Ashley rented an apartment on Melrose, about two miles away.

It would be weird showing up like this at her doorstep, but what other choice did I have? I had no phone, no wallet, no money. I needed help, someone I could trust — a friend. And Ashley was a friend even though I had always wished we could be more.

Still, popping up unannounced dressed in nothing but a tattered trench coat was a bit much.

My brain went to work. I would tell Ashley I was a victim of a mugging. I know, an outlandish tale (I mean, did they steal your pants too?), but it sounded a lot more plausible than the truth. I could sell this story. I would have to.

I had no choice. I had to do something.

Now that the initial rush was wearing off, I was freaking out. Seeing Ashley’s beautiful smile would calm the beast inside of me.

“Aren’t you laying it on a little thick?”

“Has anyone ever told you it's rude to poke around other people’s thoughts?”

I was tempted to tear off the pendant, toss it in the nearest dumpster, and pretend none of this shit was happening.

“Denial won’t change reality.”

I sighed. The warlock had a point. I had to accept the situation I now found myself in, no matter how crazy it might sound to a rational human being.

Mind made up, I hung a sharp right at the next intersection and continued to break my personal records for distance and speed.

Now, with a clear goal, I ran even faster. Or perhaps I was just eager to see the psychology professor. Just thinking about her both fired me up and calmed me down.

“Your head over heels, my friend.”

I clenched my jaw, weirdly irritated by the comment. I was growing tired of the disembodied voice, which seemed to know all my secrets and showed zero qualms about listening in to my thoughts.

Well, if I had Kolvak’s full attention, I might as well push for some answers. He’d claimed that the League was responsible for what had happened to my dad. I wanted the full story.

“Perhaps I said too much,” Kolvak protested.

“Listen, bud, I don’t know what you want or what game you’re playing here, but you will tell me what I want to know.”

“Or what? Are you going to pull off that necklace and throw it in the local sewer? Toss it in the nearest dumpster? That’s what you were thinking—don’t pretend otherwise. Besides, if you’re going to be a jerk, I could just stop helping you.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Kolvak made a valid point. At the moment, our relationship was one-sided. I was reaping the benefits of the dead warlock's medallion and his power over my beast, but what was Kolvak getting out all of this?

“You’re finally using your head.”

I bit back an insult and clenched my jaw.

I needed Kolvak if I didn’t want to turn into a rampaging monster. The warlock was the closest thing to a friend I had as I descended deeper and deeper down this rabbit hole. This whole werepanther business didn’t exactly come with an instruction manual. Kolvak might not have all the answers, but without him, I'd be doubly screwed.

“You’ve been helping and guiding me since this whole thing started,” I said, choosing my words with great care. “I doubt you’re doing all this out of the goodness of your heart. And that can mean only one thing—there's something in it for you too.”

Judging by the silence that followed, I’d hit close to the truth.

“You want something from me, Kolvak, and you need me as much as I need you. So help me understand what happened to my father. And I’ll be more than grateful. I swear I’ll return the favor.”

There was a moment of silence as Kolvak considered my offer.

“All right, we have ourselves a deal, Erik Cross.”

I suddenly felt like Kolvak had played me. Was this what the warlock had been after all along, my willingness to cooperate? To owe him a favor?

“I do want something from you, Erik. So let’s try to keep you alive and go from there. Regarding what happened to your father…” Kolvak paused for a beat before he continued. “The League betrayed him.”

“How was my father involved with a bunch of monster hunters?”

“That answer is quite simple: He was one of them.”

The revelation took my breath away.

“He was one of those goons?”

“How many archeologists do you know own pendants that hold the spirits of dead warlocks?”

I considered this for a beat.

“And how many of them end up dead in an alley?”

“He was mugged…”

“That’s what his killers wanted the world to believe.”

Each new revelation hit harder than the previous one.

“How would you know?” I asked hesitantly.

“I was there, wasn’t I?”

I was about to lash out with a snarky comeback—how dare this asshole claim to have witnessed my father’s murder?!—but then I stopped myself. My dad had been wearing the pendant when he died. The cops had wondered why the muggers hadn’t helped themselves to the medallion but figured either the killer hadn’t noticed the piece of jewelry under his layers of clothing or that they just figured the necklace was a piece of junk. I mean, the amulet didn’t look like much.

“I resent that,” Kolvak grumbled.

I took a deep breath, fighting to get my emotions back under control, and said, “Why did they kill him if he was one of them?”

Silence greeted my question, and I exploded. “Talk to me, goddamnit!”

“Your dad had fallen in love.”

“And that’s a goddamn crime now?”

“It is if the woman you love is the enemy.”

“The enemy? What do you mean?”

“She was supernatural. A target. One of the bad guys, as the League of Light sees it.”

I was reeling. Did the warlock expect me to buy this wild story? Could I accept my father being a monster hunter who worked for some secret Illuminati-style organization that protected the world from supernatural creatures? And if that wasn’t crazy enough, he supposedly pulled a Twilight and had developed the hots for some monster?

Dammit, I was losing it here.

“Told you, you weren’t ready for the truth.”

“How do you know what I’m ready for?”

“I’ve been with you since your father passed. I know you better than you know yourself, kid.”

I swallowed back another wave of anger. The thought that this warlock had been a silent passenger for all these years, feeling what I was feeling, experiencing what I was experiencing, rattled me to the core.

“Your dad shielded you from the nightmares that dwell in the shadows. He wanted you to grow up untouched by the evil that stalks the night.”

That sure hadn’t worked out so well. I was now part of that evil. The only thing stopping me from being a full-blown monster was the necklace around my neck.

Bottom line—I needed Kolvak. And apparently, he needed me.

“What do you want from me?” I said tightly.

“We’ll get to that, eventually. If you make it through the day, Erik. Now, what was your brilliant plan again?”

Good question. I did indeed have a plan. It had been marinating away in my brainpan, but first I had to get myself some clothes. No one cared about some barefoot weirdo in a trench coat barreling his way through the less desirable parts of Tinseltown. I was just one more freak in a city that drew them like flies. But if I wanted to head back to the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library where I’d hidden the codex, I would need to look at least like a civilized human being.

“So that’s the big idea, huh?” Kolvak said. “Go back for the book?”

“You have any better ideas? The book is the key to this whole thing. The League of Light thought it was damn important, and so did the Followers of Bastet.”

“I never said I didn’t like the plan. I’d do the same thing, to be honest. Get your hands—or is it paws now? I never could get that straight—on the damn book, and you’ll have yourself a bargaining chip. Perhaps you can make a deal with the hunters?”

Or the monsters.

The thought rose unbidden from somewhere deep within my subconscious.

The beast was chiming in again.

As if having one voice in my head wasn’t bad enough.

Thankfully Kolvak hadn’t picked up on the panther’s idea—or at least the warlock didn’t comment for a change.

One thing was for sure. I had to get the book before anyone else did. And maybe, just maybe, I could crack the codex' secrets and find a way out of this crazy nightmare.

7

I had to ring the doorbell four times before Ashley’s voice crackled over the intercom of her Melrose apartment building. Her voice sounded dead tired. It was only around seven o’clock, and she didn’t have to be on campus until ten.

This whole thing sure as hell was getting off to a great start.

“Who is it?” she asked sleepily.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Ashley. It’s Erik.”

A confusing beat. Then: “Erik Cross?”

Okay, here we go.

I felt terrible about barging into her life like this. For all I knew, she had some beau upstairs ready to kick me in the balls for showing up unannounced at the crack of dawn. But I was desperate. And perhaps the beast was making me a tad more daring than I would be under normal circumstances.

“What are you doing here?”

Where to begin? “Um…”

“Are you okay?”

“I need your help, Ashley. Someone mugged me.”

I closed my eyes and tightened my jaw. I hated lying to her, but what choice did I have? I doubted the truth would have gone over well.

The door buzzed open, and I entered the building.

Ashley’s place was on the third floor. I turned toward the elevator, but one glance at the coffin-like box made me break out in an anxious sweat. The beast didn’t like confined spaces. I guess they reminded him of a cage. So I opted for the stairs, my dirty feet leaving black footprints on the marble floor.

I was arriving at Ashley’s doorstep like Prince Charming himself.

At least my feet would be clean by the time I reached her apartment.

Ashley was waiting for me at the threshold of her place, dressed in a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt, her hair a tangled but beautiful mess. She wore no makeup but still was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.

I stared at her for a moment, unable to pull my eyes off her.

She took a step toward me, her eyes warm and full of concern. Not even the funk coming of my trench seemed to faze her empathy. She was a sweetheart—and I was a goddamn mess.

“I’m sorry about the smell, but I needed something to wear.”

“What happened?” she asked, her bleary eyes blinking at me as if she was still debating if I was here or part of some dream.

“They jumped me, took my clothes, my wallet and cell phone,” I explained in a shaken voice. I wasn’t faking my nervousness. I felt like some kid on the opening night of his first school stage play. I’m terrible when I’m lying to someone I care about.

“Some homeless guy bummed me his coat,” I continued to explain, inwardly shaking my head at my improbable tale. “As you can tell, he wasn’t all that big into personal hygiene.”

I flashed her a crooked grin, doing my best to smooth things over with humor and a feeble attempt at charm.

Ashley cracked a little smile herself, and I let out a mental sigh of relief. Somehow it was working.

“You’re doing great, kid. Keep it up,” Kolvak said.

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Ashley asked with concern. “Wasn’t there anybody nearby who could loan you a phone?”

Oops, spoke too soon. I stared at Ashley for a beat and then rubbed my head.

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I think I have a slight concussion. I was out cold for a while, and when I came to I just walked through the city until I remembered you lived around here…”

“Oh, you poor man, come in.”

Ashley pulled me into her cozy pad. The place reflected her personality—it was airy, colorful, and filled with books. A hot bookworm, just my kind of lady. The girl I’d wished lived next door.

Domino, the cat, was sitting on a blanket and eyed me with sudden alarm. Instead of running towards me with a loud purr as she was prone to do, the cat let out a hiss and shot into the next room like she’d seen the devil himself.

The feline sensed the beast inside of me and was smart enough to keep her distance.

Ashley shook her head, surprised by Domino’s unusual reaction to my presence. She knew the cat, and I were buds.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Ashley shrugged apologetically. “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

Her offer made me realize how hungry and thirsty I was. I had burned up a ton of calories sprinting from downtown up to Melrose.

“I hate to impose,” I said, despite my grumbling stomach.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Coffee?”

I nodded.

Ashely immediately drew me a cup of Joe from her bubbling coffee maker and offered me a bagel with cream cheese. I gratefully accepted the steaming brew. The bagel looked a lot less appealing to me. I wanted meat, something dripping in blood.

As Ashley ran after Domino, I seized the opportunity to check out Ashley's fridge. I found some leftover flank steak and to my shock, wolfed it down raw.

Gross.

Man, I sucked and would burn in Hell for this. The worst part, the damn thing tasted like the most delicious meal I’d ever eaten.

A few seconds later, Ashley returned to the kitchen, and I stealthily wiped my face with a paper towel, praying my lips weren't rimmed read.

As Ashley spoke, I swallowed my last delicious bite or rare meat.

“Peter and I broke up a few months ago, but I still have some of his clothes. They should fit you.”

I nodded again, grateful for her help, her willingness to accept my story at face value.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through this, Erik. Just use the shower in the bedroom. I’ll get some clothes ready for you while you get cleaned up.”

“I don't know how to thank you, Ashley,”  I said, but part of me had a very strong opinion about how to show its gratitude. There was only a thin layer of grimy fabric between me and the world, and I sidestepped behind the counter so she wouldn’t notice how happy I was to see her.

"Just get yourself cleaned up," Ashley said. “And then maybe we can burn that trench coat.”

She handed me a used grocery bag, indicating that I should dump the coat in it as soon as possible.

I nodded and stepped into the bedroom. There were plants everywhere, and the sunlight wove a latticework of light across the unmade bed. The place oozed sensuality and taste.

“Get a grip on your yourself, kid. You’re acting like some hormonal teenager.”

“Well, I was seventeen the last time I was alone with a girl in her place.”

"You've lived a sheltered life, my friend."

Thanks for rubbing it in.

I stepped into the bathroom, stripped off the smelly coat, and tied it up in the plastic bag. It didn’t help much. Nothing less than a blowtorch would get rid of that rotten-skunk-old-yogurt stench.

Glancing up at the mirror, I was relieved to see that my new muscles were still intact. My eyes took in my pumped physique. I finally looked like the kinda guy a girl like Ashley deserved.

Strong mind, strong body. The muscles were impressive, but what blew me away, even more, was that all my scars and burns were gone. I was whole again. The best version of myself. The man I would’ve been if I hadn’t wrapped my Mustang around a tree all those years ago.

This was my second chance, but it sure as hell came at a high price.

Hormonal stud by day, murderous monster by night. And let’s not forget to mention the talking wise guy in my head. How could I be thinking of romance at a time like this?

“My thoughts exactly. Nice abs by the way. I mean that in a strictly hetero way.”

“Shut up!” I said louder than I intended, then immediately felt like an idiot. I didn’t want Ashley to think I was losing it.

I turned away from my reflection, turned on the water, and stepped into the steaming shower. The hot water felt amazing against my bare skin as it sluiced the grime away.

Refreshed, I toweled off and gingerly stepped out of the bathroom, making sure Ashley had left the bedroom. I didn’t think that running into her naked would go over well.

A pile of clothes was waiting for me. Slacks, a flannel shirt, a pair of beaten up running shows. Souvenirs of an old flame.

I wondered if Ashley was still pining for this guy but decided I should stay focused on more important matters.

“It’s nice to see you being upbeat, Erik. The more I think about it, a roll in the hay with a lovely maiden would do you a world of good. Might make you loosen up a little.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re right, Romeo. This isn’t the time or place to entertain such thoughts. The League of Light is looking for the codex as we speak. We need to retrieve the book before they do. But afterward…?”

“Tell me something I don’t know. And I am not letting you ride long when and if I take a woman to bed. That’s disturbing on so many levels.”

And with these words, I got dressed. To my surprise, the clothes fit me even though my muscles strained under the fabric.

I looked presentable, but there was no way Ashley wouldn’t realize I had put on like thirty pounds of muscle overnight. Fortunately, the jacket she’d left me was baggy and hid some of my new bulk. I would thank her real quick and get the hell out of here before things got awkward.

Determined to not overstay my welcome, I left the bedroom and headed for the living room. Ashely was on the couch, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. The smell was intoxicating…

I froze in the doorway. With horror, I realized it wasn’t the coffee that had lit up my senses but the fresh cut on her finger. She met my gaze, and her eyes went wide.

She could totally tell that I had changed. Maybe, if I left quickly enough, she’d just think that the clothes were to blame.

“Domino bit me when I tried to pull her from under the couch. I don’t know what’s wrong with her…”

Smart kitty, I thought but kept my mouth shut.

I hated to run out on Ashley, but I couldn’t allow the situation to spiral out of control.

My stomach rumbled as I caught another whiff of blood, and I knew it was time to make my exit.

“I have to go, Ashley. Thank you so much for everything.”

I grabbed the bag with the homeless man’s coat, which I planned to toss down the garbage chute on the way out.

I felt Ashley’s eyes boring into me, searching for a logical explanation for what was going on. I didn't want to lie to her anymore, so it was best if I left now.

“Hold on, Erik.”

I turned as Ashley walked up to me. The air crackled with sexual tension, at least that’s how it felt to me. It was almost like the beast inside of me approved of Ashley and wanted her as much as I did.

“Something really weird is going on here, and it's kinda freaking me out. I’m not stupid, you know. You look different, and your limp is gone, and--”

And I showed up naked at your place at seven in the morning with some bullshit story and reeking like a walking sewer.

God, I felt ashamed and embarrassed about this whole interlude.

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 wanted, 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 look 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.”

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 reflection 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.

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.

11

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?

“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.

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?

The magazine spent, I tossed the weapon aside and spun toward Natalia.

Time was running out for the woman. I refused to waste more precious seconds with Cutter.

I scooped up her unconscious form in my powerful arms and jumped toward the nearest rooftop.

Air whipped my fur as I shot upward, and I landed on the roof with primal grace.

I stole a glance down, catching a last glimpse of Cutter as he leveled his rifle at me from three stories below. His expression remained unreadable in the darkness below despite my enhanced senses.

Did he think I was abducting his trusted lieutenant, or merely grabbing a body for a snack later? The League of Light thought werepanthers were all monsters.

But not me.

And then I was moving across the maze-like landscape of chimneys and roof access doors.

I prayed I would reach the hospital in time.

12

As I leaped from one rooftop to the next, I could feel Natalia’s life running out. Her heartbeat was growing weaker with each passing second.

I would never make it. Despite my incredible speed and ability to use the rooftops as a shortcut, I would arrive too late.

Only a miracle could save the monster hunter.

The thought made me slow down. Who better to ask for a miracle than a bonafide miracle worker? Kolvak was a warlock. Even in his weakened, disembodied state, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve—or at least that’s what he kept telling me. Could he save Natalia?

“Listen, you have any idea how much it drains me to practice magic in my current form?”

I considered this for a split second, remembering how quiet Kolvak had grown during my alley fight. I guessed transmuting the silver chains had depleted him.

“What is this woman to you, anyway? I thought you had the hots for the teacher chick?”

This isn’t about Ashley, I thought.

Natalia had spared me when she could have easily killed me. And she was the only member of the League who knew that I could control my beast. If I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life on the run from a bunch of trigger happy monster hunters, I would need to convince them that I was on their side. Or at least not a threat.

Besides, I wanted to know more about the role the League had played in my father’s death. Who was the supernatural creature that dad had fallen in love with? And what was the name of the hunter who’d murdered him?

The woman currently dying in my arms was the key. I couldn’t let her go.

“So this is all about revenge?”

“You’re the one who opened this can of worms, Kolvak. Now, are you going to help?”

I gently lowered the bleeding monster hunter to the rooftop. Her lovely features had taken on a ghastly pallor. Despite my new abilities and strength, I felt utterly helpless at this moment. I was all too aware of the crushing power of mortality and sensed death’s icy breath running down my thick fur. The grim reaper was closing in, and there was not a damn thing I could do.

Kolvak had asked me what Natalia meant to me. Excellent question. Yes, I wanted answers, and she had spared me not once but twice now. But this was more than just quid pro quo. As corny as it sounded, I sensed the world was a better place with her in it.

“Why don’t you just say you have the hots for her, kid? You’re sure getting around nowadays. From virgin to heartbreaker in no time.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I said, a growl building in my throat.

“Whatever, kid. Compared to me, you are. Now shut up and do as I tell you, okay?”

I felt tempted to mouth off to Kolvak but swallowed the insults on my tongue when my paws lit up with a blue light.

What the hell?

“I’m about to save this wench. Now lay your damn paws on Natalia before the magic dissipates.”

My beast bristled, not used to being ordered around. Still, I did as I was told, all too aware of the stakes.

As I kneeled before the dying woman, reality morphed to a slow crawl, and I noticed a myriad of weird little details. Smoke curled from a nearby chimney, and laundry on a clothesline flapped in the nighttime wind. Somebody was watching Wheel of Fortune in an apartment on this block, and the Thai restaurant on the corner was cooking up something delicious.

I blocked out these distractions to the best of my abilities and focused on Natalia. My glowing paws ran over her body, locked on the bleeding wound, and then blue light spilled from my claws into the monster hunter’s crimson-caked flesh.

No mystical, choir-like soundtrack underscored the display of azure energy, nor was there a loud thunderclap or dramatic flash of lightning. The magical light simply jumped from my paws to Natalia’s body, and within seconds, the deep gashes the werepanther had torn into her thigh began to knit up.

The light became blinding, and I averted my gaze. My panther eyes were more sensitive, and the brightness seared my altered retinas. Even with my eyes shut, the light burned.

And then it was all over.

No sign of Natalia’s wounds remained. My ears made out a weak but steady heartbeat. Kolvak had come through for me with flying colors.

I hovered over the unconscious monster hunter, unsure what my next move should be. If this was a movie, Natalia’s eyes would have snapped open at this point, and she would have looked up at me with a grateful smile.

"Someone is sure desperate to be a knight in shining armor," Kolvak grumbled.

I bit back a sharp comeback and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

Kolvak sounded weaker, his voice like a badly tuned radio. Saving Natalia had exhausted the warlock, and I figured it might be best to keep conversation to a bare minimum for the time being.

A gust of air buffeted my fur coat. I needed to get Natalia to shelter. She let out a low moan as I scooped her up and marched toward the ledge.

My eyes scanned my surroundings.

Downtown Los Angeles had gotten a makeover during the last few years. Artists and entrepreneurs had taken over, flocking to the cheap rents and promise of an urban boho lifestyle. In a town where property value was at an all-time high, it wasn’t long before both Wall Street and foreign investors had snapped up a good share of the properties for sale. In another couple of years, they’d drive the artists out again, and the whole process would start over somewhere else.

As I searched the nearby buildings, I spotted a loft apartment about three rooftops removed from me. A quick scan made a few things clear to me. The owner or owners of the unit had an impeccable taste for interior design, and no one appeared to be home. Perhaps the tenants were working late, or maybe this was an investment property that stood abandoned most of the time, a future Airbnb unit waiting to happen.

Determination welling up in my chest, I bounded toward the empty loft apartment.

The place was about to receive an unexpected visitor.

13

Santara loped down the city street, paws skidding over the uneven sidewalk. A few cars blurred past her, but she remained invisible to the drivers. Her black form had become one with the shadows. If passersby saw anything, it would be the green eyes aglow with thoughts of vengeance and destruction.

The were-queen hated run away from her enemies, but the traitor had left her little choice. Attacking the League of Light had always been a risky move, but the Codex had forced her hand. The ritual contained within the ancient book’s pages could give her kind the edge they needed to win this war and destroy the League of Light once and for all. Gaining possession of the Codex was all that mattered, regardless of how high the cost might be.

Even though Santara had expected the pride to sustain heavy losses—the League was a formidable adversary, after all—she’d hoped the element of surprise would help them. Unfortunately, the attack had failed. They still didn’t have the book, and most of her soldiers had fallen to the monster hunters' silver bullets.

What frustrated her the most was how close they’d gotten to achieving their goal. She would hold the Codex in her hands if Erik Cross hadn’t shown up and turned the tide of the battle in their enemy’s favor.

Thinking about the archeology professor made Santara’s spine stiffen, and she fought back, the roar creeping up her throat.

Santara had suspected that Erik might return to the library, and she’d ordered two of her soldiers to stake out the building in their human form. When both Erik and the League showed up, Santara knew she’d made the right move. Her surveillance team had stealthily followed the League, and the clueless hunters had led them straight to their safe house.

The downtown warehouse was only one of the many properties under League ownership. The resources of the ancient order of monster hunters, which had been a thorn in her side for centuries, rivaled those of the Vatican. And now they’d added the Codex to their list of priceless treasures.

Not for long, though. She would acquire the book, one way or another. She wouldn’t allow herself to fail. The stakes were too high.

Santara’s mind turned toward the enigmatic archaeology professor who’d resisted the call of Bastet. How could he fight his panther nature now that the blood of the goddess coursed through his veins? He should have knelt before her feet and sworn his undying loyalty to her. The wounded female hunter should have fired up Erik's hunger and killer instincts, yet he had clung to his pathetic humanity somehow. Instead of tearing Natalia apart and taking the Codex, Erik had stood by the hunter’s side while her blood painted the ally red.

The thought made Santara’s flanks throb with rage, and she wanted to rend human flesh. Had some random pedestrian been unlucky enough to run into her tonight, she would have finished him on the spot.

Santara only had herself to blame. Her bite had made this traitor. How she wished she would have struck him down with her claws instead. Or at least ripped off that irksome little trinket he wore around his neck. The medallion was the source of his surprising resistance to Bastet’s call. Without it, he’d belong to her.

As the were-queen edged into another dark alley, she started to relax, and her racing heartbeat slowed down. No one had followed her. She was safe, for now.

Not all was lost. The League was after the traitor too. Santara didn’t understand why Erik had risked his life to protect the same enemy who, moments earlier, had been torturing him. The man was confused on many fronts.

Confused—and confusing. The apple hadn't fallen too far from the tree with Erik Cross. She remembered his father all too well — another hunter who’d lost his way and betrayed everyone who cared about him.

Over the last twenty-four hours, she’d learned as much as she could about the archeology professor. First, she’d found out where he worked and where he lived. Then she’d even spent the whole day at UCLA looking for Erik, only to learn he’d never showed up to work.

A female co-worker had proven to be quite helpful when she navigated the university halls in her human form while searching for the man she’d bitten the night before. Interestingly enough, back in the ally, Santara had picked up the same woman’s scent all over Erik’s body.

Was this Ashley Norton merely a friend or a lover? Either way, she was close enough to Erik to have marked him with her scent.

Santara had found her bargaining chip. If Erik refused to swear his loyalty to her, she would resort to other means to bend the professor to her will. Either the traitor would bring her the Codex, or she would bathe in Ashley Norton’s blood tonight.

14

Ashley struggled to stay focused at work after her rude awakening that morning. She was supposed to give two lectures today, but by the time she entered the first classroom around ten-thirty, she’d blanked on most of the lesson plan. Today's lecture centered on drugs and their various effects on human psychology, but as Ashley stumbled through her class, a few of the students probably thought their teacher might be on drugs herself.

Her mind kept wandering back to Erik’s bizarre visit earlier that morning. It had been the only thing she could think about since he stepped out of her door in her ex-boyfriend’s clothes. She wondered if he was okay. What had happened to the adorably shy archaeology professor? She had known Erik long enough to know that he was in trouble.

She’d heard rumors that Erik didn’t date, that a terrible car accident had scarred his body. But he was smart and funny and had a cute smile, and over the last few months, she’d increasingly looked forward to spending time with him. She was ninety percent sure Erik felt the same way despite his reputation for being a loner. Recently, she’d concluded that she wanted to take things further, to explore where these feelings might lead.

To her disappointment, Erik hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask her out, and this meant she would have to make the first move. She’d invited him to happy hour, curious to see if a few drinks might loosen Erik up. Despite the mild-mannered facade he presented to most of the world, Ashley had sensed a toughness and resilience in the man, a strength he had buried deep inside of himself in the wake of his accident. Strangely enough, Ashley felt she could bring out this strength in the professor if he only gave her a chance.

The happy hour hadn’t worked out, and Erik hadn’t even called her to say he couldn’t make it. She had been almost ready to give up.

And then he’d showed up at her doorstep this morning with some crazy story.

Ashley had sensed Erik was holding back something from her, but she could also tell he’d gone through some terrible ordeal. And then she'd noticed his body.

The skinny psychology professor she’d grown to like was gone, replaced by a man who looked like an Olympic athlete. Broad shoulders that strained the filthy trench coat he’d been wearing, muscular thighs that looked like they could run for days. She’d had to stop herself from staring, but it was impossible not to notice the difference.

Ashley knew it was physically impossible to put on that much muscle overnight.

So what was going on?

In her mind’s eye, she kept returning to the way his new physique had filled out her beefy ex’s clothes. Then she thought of him inside her bedroom, in her shower. Naked, with hot water running down that hard chest and…

Jesus, girl, get out your mind out of the gutter.

What was wrong with her? She was acting like a hormonal teenager. Before this morning, she’d been interested in Erik as a potential date. Now she wanted him so badly she couldn’t think straight. She remembered catching a whiff of a musky, almost animalistic smell coming off him. She had told herself that the unusual scent must have come from the trench coat he’d bummed from the homeless man. But the scent had been different, strong but weirdly pleasant.

Seductive.

No wonder this was turning into the longest day of her teaching career. How could anyone give a lecture with such thoughts flashing through one’s head?

As the hours crawled along, she’d kept checking her cell for a message from Erik. She was worried sick about him. Call it female intuition, but she sensed the archaeology professor was in trouble and needed her now more than ever.

After fumbling through the last lecture of the day, she fought her way through traffic and reached her apartment around ten o’clock. A crushing sense of loneliness fell over her. A whole day had passed without hearing from Erik, and a little voice told her would have trouble falling asleep tonight.

Her mind lost in thought, Ashley tapped her garage opener, and the steel gate rumbled open. As she pulled into the parking structure, she never noticed the three large panthers stealthily following her into the building.

15

I landed nimbly on the balcony of the downtown loft apartment, and my fist shot out at the sliding glass door.

The window shattered, and I stepped into the spacious, beautifully decorated apartment, the carpet of broken glass crunching under my thick footpads.

If I hadn’t been in my panther form, I would have let out a low whistle. This place was sweet.

I walked into the living room and gently lowered Natalia onto a couch that must have cost as much as my Honda. The leather shone in the moonlight, the black material forming a sharp contrast to Natalia’s still pale skin. Kolvak’s magic had saved her life, but she still had lost a lot of blood. I hoped she would wake up soon so I could make her drink some water and maybe get some food in her stomach.

On that note, my stomach emitted a low rumble. I must have burned up a fair share of calories during all the fighting.

Crossfit was no match for being hunted like an animal.

I was about to head for the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat, but first, there was one other matter which required my attention. Natalia had stuffed the Codex into the leather pouch strapped around her shoulder. I hoped we were on the same side, but I didn’t trust Natalia not to take off with the book.

I pulled it out of the bag and looked at the ancient leather binding with something close to hatred. It had all started with this damn book.

The Codex had gotten me into this mess. But perhaps it could get me out. At least I had a bargaining chip.

After a moment’s hesitation, I took her cell phone too and then headed for the kitchen.

As I passed through the living room, I caught my reflection in the big screen TV. I was a sight to behold. Muscles rippled along my black-furred body as my tail slapped the air. Let me tell you, having a tail was quite possibly the weirdest part of this whole experience. It kept moving like it had a mind of its own, and I resisted the urge to swat at it. The last thing I needed was for Natalia to wake up and find me chasing my own tail like Domino when she was hopped up on catnip.

I was both man and beast, a savage panther that walked upright on two legs. And at that moment, the realization truly sank in that Erik Cross, mild-mannered professor, was gone for good. He’d died the moment that she-beast had bit me.

Trying not to dwell too much on what I’d become, I stepped into the kitchen. My eyes locked on a stainless steel refrigerator that was bigger than some studio apartments. I opened the door, and my fur stood on end as an arctic blast of air enveloped me.

The good news was that the fridge had been stocked recently. I growled my disappointment when I realized that the fridge only contained vegetables and fruits. My luck that I would pick the apartment of a vegetarian to crash. A quick look in the freezer revealed five flavors of frozen yogurt but no steaks. Jesus.

I grabbed a jug of water, closed the refrigerator door, and stepped out of the kitchen. Natalia was still unconscious on the couch.

I studied my surroundings and noticed a small table covered with framed photographs. All the pictures showed a man and woman in their early thirties. The images featured them in different settings—one was snapped at a beach somewhere, another on some forest hike, a few at various hotspots in the city. They looked happy together, content, and in love.

Lucky for them.

I wondered if I’d ever have something like that. But who was I kidding? What kind of girlfriend would put up with her guy turning into a werepanther and eating raw steak for breakfast?

My stomach cramped again, thinking of the flank steak I’d scarfed at Ashley’s apartment. Then I remembered that I’d promised to call her before the end of the day. To let her know I was safe. I eyed Natalia’s cell in my furry panther hand. I should call her right now.

Thinking of the adjunct psychology professor had a calming effect on me. My breath steadied, and the tension in my body eased. The wind blowing in through the broken window ran through my fur, further relaxing me. As I inhaled, I started to morph back into my human form.

This change brought my feelings of peace to an abrupt end.

My whole body cramped up, almost as if invisible hands were remolding my anatomy—all my muscles, internal organs, and bones in a brutal collision with each other.

As I collapsed on the cold, hardwood floor, I dropped the jug of water and the Codex.

I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, cursing inwardly at how much this shifting business hurt and wondering if it this shit would ever get easier. According to Kolvak, it would. But maybe he was just bullshitting.

The pain must have made me black out, and when my eyes snapped open, more than an hour had passed. It was around eleven o’clock, and the traffic sounds emanating from outside had faded. The shift had taken more out of me this time. I guessed that since I’d spent a considerable amount of energy during the fight, my body had needed to shut down.

After laying on the floor for another ten minutes, fully human once more, my breath normalized. I stumbled to my feet and scooped up the Codex from where I’d dropped it earlier. The academic in me was horrified by the rough treatment the book had received. The rest of me was too tired to care.

A rustling sound to my right made me whirl toward the couch. Natalia was sitting up, wide awake.

“Looks like we’re both having a shitty day,” she said.

My lips crinkled in a plastic smile as I covered up my privates with the Codex. I must have made some sight. Natalia possessed the dubious honor of being the first woman to see me naked in ten years.

But she wasn't paying any mind to my naughty parts. Her gaze flickered between the medallion draped around my neck and the book of forbidden secrets hovering over my groin. “Who are you?” After the beat, she added, “What are you?”

“Right now I’m kinda embarrassed. Do you mind if I get dressed before we fight again?”

Natalia nodded, and I darted out of the kitchen into what I hoped was the nearest bedroom. Finally, something went right.

I opened the closet and, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, and I helped myself to the clothes of a stranger. Luckily, the guy who lived here favored loose-fitting athleisure, and I easily slipped into a pair of Adidas sweatpants and a dark hoodie.

Unfortunately, the guy had the biggest feet on planet Earth.

After trying on three different pairs of shoes, I opted to go barefoot. At least I was somewhat presentable as I prepared to face Natalia.

This time, I was in control of the situation. I'd made sure there was no landline in the unit so there was no chance for her to call Cutter for backup, and I still had her cell and Codex on me. I knew she wouldn’t leave without the book. Besides, I’d saved her life multiple times. She seemed like the type of person who took that seriously.

It took me less than five minutes to get dressed and return to the living room. I found Natalia in front of the shattered window, the glittering lights of the city reflected in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t stand so close to the window. Some weres might still be out on those rooftops searching for us. And those things see in the dark and pick up a scent a mile away…”

“Funny that a monster has to give a monster hunter advice. I should know better.”

Natalia took a few steps back from the balcony door. Her attention shifted to me.

“You saved me again, didn’t you? Why?”

“I have some questions, and I think you might have the answers.”

“That makes two of us.” Natalia stepped closer. “You didn’t succumb to the curse when you shifted. I saw your eyes in that alley. Your mind was still human. How is that possible?”

She took another step toward me. Was she trying to get close enough to ram the silver dagger into my guts?

Almost as if Natalia had picked up on my apprehension, she stopped in her tracks. Perhaps we both wanted to keep a safe distance.

The moonlight played over her beautiful black hair, accenting her sharply drawn features and full lips.

“How do you tame the beast?”

How indeed. My answer was to touch the amulet around the neck.

“The medallion helps me maintain control.”

“Which means it’s magical.”

I nodded. “It belonged to my father. Maybe you heard of him? You people killed him.”

Natalia’s eyes lit up in surprise. “I know nothing about that.”

I scrutinized her for a beat but decided she wasn’t lying. His murder must have been before her time. She was about my age, and I doubted the League recruited teenagers. Or perhaps they had some monster hunter academy somewhere straight out of the latest Harry Potter knock-off, but they didn’t send kids into the field.

She sighed and swept her dark hair back from her shoulders. “You realize talking with a werepanther could get me kicked out of the League or worse.”

“No fraternizing with the enemy, huh?”

Ignoring my flippant comment, Natalie asked another question. “How did you heal my wounds? I was bleeding out.”

I pointed at my medallion again.

“The force is strong with this one,” I said, hoping some humor might cut the tension. I also hoped that it might shut down this uncomfortable line of questioning. It worked, and a smile lit up Natalia’s normally severe features.

“You’re not going tell me more, are you now?” she said.

“We’re enemies, aren’t we? Besides, I’m still figuring this crazy shit out myself.”

She raised a brow. “You appear to be a fast learner.”

Natalia circled the couch, her eyes never leaving me as she spoke.

“You’re a monster. And I’m a monster hunter. Yet you used magic to bring me back from certain death. I think I’m starting to lose track of how many times you saved me.”

“Perhaps I want to show you I’m different from the others. That you don’t have to hunt me down like an animal.”

Natalia’s face fell. “Try convincing Cutter of that. Or the high priests he answers to. The battle between humanity and the supernaturals is a war between the light and the dark. The League of Light is on one side, and you…you’re on the other. We can’t be allies.”

“Do you believe that? It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, Natalia.”

“I believe you think you can control this monster. At least for now. But you’re also way in over your head. This conflict has been raging for centuries. You only joined this party yesterday.”

I mulled this over. I couldn’t argue with the logic of what Natalia was saying. But then again, she didn’t realize that I wasn’t on my own. There was a dead warlock hanging out in my mind who was doing his best to bring me up to speed before I got myself killed.

Natalia gestured at the Codex.

“At least the book didn’t fall into Santara’s hands. I have to contact Cutter and let him know I’m okay, that we have the Codex.”

“I hate to break it to you, but there’s no we. You just said we’re on opposite sides of a holy war, lady.” My sharp words got the monster hunter’s attention. “Call Scarface, and tell your boss I’ve figured out what the Followers of Bastet are after.”

Natalia grew stock still, her eyes wide. “Are you bluffing?”

I shook my head, my face serious.

“You deciphered the text?”

“Yes. And it’s far worse than any of you can imagine.”

Natalia recovered from her initial shock and said, “Tell me what we’re dealing with.”

“I will…if we can strike a deal.”

Natalia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Says the woman who tries to fight off three werepanthers armed only with a knife.”

“A silver knife.”

A smile curled my lips for a moment. Natalia had spunk. And a truly fantastic figure, but that wasn’t important right now. “Cutter can have the book if he is willing to pay my price.”

Natalia’s expression closed off; whatever warmth there was between us gone. “The League doesn’t negotiate with monsters.”

“Then it’s time they started to. If you guys want the Codex, you play by my rules.”

The icy strength in my voice surprised me. For the first time in ten years, I felt like that over-confident punk who’d wrapped his Mustang around a tree. The beast was allowing me to reconnect with my old self, a dormant part of my personality that had been tightly held in check after the accident had destroyed my life.

“What if you’re bluffing? What if you’re making it all up so you can live out your life as a murdering beast?”

“I haven’t murdered anyone!”

“It’s only a matter of time, Erik. You can’t fight this curse forever.”

The confidence in Natalia’s voice unnerved me. She was starting to sound like Kolvak.

“If the beast takes over my mind, then I’ll end it myself. That’s a promise. I won’t go through life living off the blood of the innocent.”

“Noble words, but do you know how many infected monster hunters promised me the same thing? And do you have any idea how many of them kept their promise?”

The question hung in the air, the implication of her grim words all too clear. Nobody could tame the curse forever. Natalia, Kolvak, and even Santara had all told me the same thing—and they knew a hell of a lot more about this than me.

Natalia was right. I was new to this craziness, a mere rank amateur dabbling in powers I couldn’t comprehend. I had convinced myself that I knew what I was doing, that I was in control, but who was I fooling?

This shit was way above my paygrade.

“I’ll make the call,” Natalia said, “but first tell me why the Followers of Bastet are after the Codex.”

I regarded Natalia for a beat. And then I shared the bad news with her.

“The book contains a ritual,” I began.

“What sort of ritual?” Natalia asked with dread in her voice.

“A ritual that if carried out successfully will make all were-creatures immune to silver for a month.”

Natalia’s eyes widened as she ran this scenario through her mind. The Followers of Bastet and all other shapeshifting monsters would become invulnerable. They’d slaughter the League of Light. No one would be able to stop Santara and her followers from doing whatever they wanted—and I suspected that it would involve a lot of innocent people getting eaten.

“The ritual has to be performed during a full moon, and it lasts one full lunar phase,” I explained.

I waited in silence as Natalia digested this new information. The cat was out of the bag, an appropriate colloquialism considering what the League was up against.

Natalia looked unsteady on her feet, still weak from the blood loss despite Kolvak’s magic. Reeling, she took a seat on the couch,

“Give me the book. Let us secure the Codex at our headquarters in Rome where even Santara won’t dare to venture.”

“Tell Cutter to back the fuck off…and it’s yours.”

Natalia nodded at her cell, which still rested in my hand. “I’ll make the call. Hand me the phone.”

“I will. But first I need to let a friend know that I’m okay.”

My eyes never left Natalia as I dialed Ashley’s number.

I had promised her I would be in touch, and I didn’t break promises to friends.

I knew it was kinda late, but hopefully not too late. Ashley taught a night class so she should get home around this time unless she decided to meet up with friends for a late-night round of drinks. Or maybe she was pissed at me and wasn’t going to answer at all. Damn it! What if I’d really scared her this morning?

And then she answered her cell, and I felt the tension easing from my body. After everything that had happened today, I was desperate to hear her voice.

It seemed I would have to wait a little longer because the person answering on the other end of the line wasn’t Ashely.

“I’ve been waiting for your call, Erik.”

The eerily familiar voice hit me like a hammer blow to the chest. The last time, I had only heard the speaker in my mind, but the strange accent was unmistakable.

“Hello, Santara,” I said.

She laughed, a dark and sultry sound. My whole body tightened, and my heart jumped. My knuckles whitened around the cellphone.

I felt Natalia’s eyes boring into me. She was gesturing impatiently for the phone now, clearly determined to talk to the queen of the panthers directly.

“Your friend is beautiful,” Santara purred. “No wonder you’re so enamored with her.”

“Let her go,” I ground out.

“That’s up to you, Erik Cross. Give me what I want, and nothing will happen to your woman.”

I stared at the Codex splayed out on a coffee table in front of me.

"I know Ashley means something to you. I picked up her scent all over you. If you value her life, you will give me what I want."

I gritted my teeth with rage, and it took all my willpower not to morph into a panther creature as Santara's mocking laughter burst from the phone.

“If you hurt her…” My voice shook with barely contained rage, and the beast inside of me woke from his slumber.

“Don’t wait too long. My boys are hungry.”

The line went dead. I stared at Natalia for a beat. She sensed that something was wrong.

A moment later, Natalia’s cell received an incoming video message from Ashley’s phone number.

My chest tightened with alarm as I scanned the video file. It was even worse than I could have imagined.

The vid opened on Ashley’s tear-streaked features. As the phone cam pulled back, I understood why Ashley was so terrified. Black panthers circled her, their jaws hungrily snapping at the air as they shook their powerful necks. Beasts eager to rip into easy prey and only held in check by Santara’s iron will.

The camera swung around, and I saw a tall steel fence flanked by a sign that read Jaguar Habitat.

My heart leaped. I recognized the place, had visited it many times in the past.

The Followers of Bastet were holding Ashley hostage at the Los Angeles Zoo.

16

The cab powered through dark city streets headed for the Los Angeles Zoo & Botanical Gardens. I sat in the back, my thoughts racing, filled with concern for Ashley. My anxious human brain spat out useless trivia, like the fact that the zoo encompassed 133 acres and was home to more than 1100 mammals, amphibians, birds, and reptiles. The beast inside of me paced back and forth, bristling with dark energy.

Neither man nor beast could do anything to make the cab go faster.

I had taken Natalia’s cell and tied her up at the downtown apartment before venturing out and hailing a taxi. In this day of Uber and Lyft, the yellow cab seemed like a quaint relic from another age. It was also the only way to get a ride without a credit card. The poor Russian driver had no idea that I didn’t have any cash on me. I’d lost all the money Ashley had given me when I last transformed. I felt like an ass for planning to skip on the far, but not being able to pay was the least of my concerns.

Beneath my calm exterior, my emotions churned.

Why had Santara chosen the zoo for the exchange? Was it a sick joke? I supposed the werepanthers would draw less attention in the zoo habitat than anywhere else in the city. In their full animal form, they were just jungle cats to an outside observer—and wild cats lived in zoos, not dark alleys. The park’s dense tree coverage would also allow the shifters to keep a close eye on who was coming and going in case the League should learn about our trade.

Werepanther security guards with a telepathic link to their leader. Honestly, every time I thought my life couldn’t get any weirder…

I had considered bringing Natalia along, but she would never give up the Codex, especially now that she knew what the werepanthers planned to use it for. I would do this on my own.

As Griffith Park jumped into view, I wondered how many panthers were waiting for me in the zoo. And this led to another question. Besides panthers, how many other shifter races were out there?

“Too many to keep track of,” Kolvak said. “If they pull off this ritual, werepanthers aren’t the only ones who will become invulnerable to silver. Wolves, jackals, hyenas—the whole nasty bunch will get the same boost.”

I considered Kolvak’s word as I studied the ancient tome on my lap. With the help of this magical book, all the monsters hiding in the shadows of the modern world would become unstoppable.

“So if weres and magic are real, how many other mythical creatures exist? Are you saying I might run into vampires and ghosts?”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Kolvak throwing Shakespeare at me was one of the more surreal moments in a day full of them. I instinctively clutched the Codex tighter, my sole bargaining chip for Ashley’s life.

“So you’re really going to through with this, kid? You’re going to hand the book over to save a girl you’ve never even kissed?”

“I cannot let her die.”

My comment earned me a long stare from the cabbie. Shit, I had said the words out loud. The guy probably wondered what this hoodie-wearing dude was planning on doing near Griffith Park. I had wisely not mentioned my intention to visit the zoo which closed at five. Without commenting on my strange behavior, the cabbie’s attention shifted back to the road. In his line of work, he had probably heard and seen it all.

I cracked my knuckles, shaking with nervous tension.

I was afraid for Ashley. Fearful of the consequences of my actions. Mostly, I was scared of what I’d become. My life had turned into one endless nightmare since I first laid eyes on the accursed text propped up in my lap.

Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up at the Morrison, a gastropub near the park.

The cabbie told me how much I owed him, and my response was to jump out of the car and take off. I was running at full bore, the cabbie’s angry shouts echoing after me.

Sorry, bud. It’s an emergency.

And then something unusual happened. The cabbie popped out of the yellow car and started chasing after me. And the dude was in damn good shape. He was gaining on me fast,

Shit, my luck to hail the one cab driver who appeared to run marathons in his spare time.

As moonlight played over my skin, my pulse spiked, and I started to change. My nose elongated, became a snout, sharp incisors pushed out my human teeth.

I spun toward the cabbie, my features now fully transformed into a panther monster, and let out a bone-chilling roar that stopped Marathon Man dead in his tracks. A heartbeat later, he was running again, this time in the opposite direction. No cab fare was worth getting into it with a hoodie-wearing panther man.

As he vanished screaming into the night, my beast laughed while I felt bad for the dude. As my body transformed, the hoodie tore off my back, and the Adidas sweatpants ripped. A minute later, I was in full panther man mode as I shot into the park on my way to the zoo. Foliage and branches whipped my fur-covered body as I cut through the dense vegetation at breakneck speed. Every second counted. Ashley’s life hung in the balance.

My ears pricked up as I made out the first sounds of animals. Squawking, grunting, and squealing noises of the zoo filled the night as I zeroed in on the fence that enclosed the zoo. The fence was tall enough to stop the animals from escaping if they should somehow get out of their habitats. That said, the stockade wasn't designed to keep a full-blown werepanther out, and I jumped over the obstacle, landing inside the zoo grounds with superhuman grace.

I was here. Now I just had to find Ashley.

I scanned a map of the place mounted on a nearby tree. It had been at least a year since my last visit. Back in college, I had come here often to draw the animals for an art class I was taking. The wild cats had always been my favorite—talk about irony.

Between the carved wooden map on the tree and my memory, I had a good sense of where I was. I had entered the zoo near an area known as the LAIR which featured habitats populated by reptiles, amphibians, and invertebrates. The animals reacted to my presence, their sharp instincts responding to my inhuman nature. Panthers didn’t hang out in this part of the park.

“You’re making a nice impression, Erik.”

I found Kolvak’s running commentary less than amusing. This was not the time for cheap jokes. The warlock picked up on my foul mood and grew quiet. What did he want from me, anyway? The bastard still hadn’t told me what he hoped to gain for preserving my humanity. Whose side was he on? He had no love lost for the League, but he was no friend to the Followers of Bastet either. I didn’t get the sense that he was helping me because it was the right thing to do, either. I bet he was only looking out for himself.

I half expected him to protest and launch an attempt to defend his character, but he remained silent. Maybe he didn’t correct me because he knew I was right.

I pushed all those thoughts aside, blocked out the panicked sounds of the other animals, and sprinted toward the Rainforest of the Americas area where they kept the wild cats. That's where I would find Ashley.

The heady scent of the werepanthers tainted the air. They were here, no doubt about. Waiting and watching as I drew closer.

More animal roars cut through the night. I caught glimpses of elephants and gorillas. The head of a giraffe poked above a fence, its polka-dotted neck shining in the moonlight. Sensing my approach, the giraffe retreated into the shadows, disturbed by my presence.

I was a predator roaming loose in the park.

I don’t know how long I ran through the night, my muscular legs pumping like pistons, my eyes combing the darkness — looking, searching. Moving with a singleness of purpose through the sparsely illuminated park, driven by my concern for Ashley.

My ears cut through the cacophony of animal sounds, and I made out a whimpering sound over the din.

I’d never heard Ashley cry before, but I sensed it was her, the sound unmistakably human and female.

Hatred burned up my throat, directed against the were-queen who’d put Ashley in this terrible predicament. I wanted to hurt Santara bad.

All in its due time. First, I needed to make sure Ashley was safe.

I tore up a stone path, paying no attention to the other animal habitats. The wild cats' enclosure came into view with its high, electrified fence.

My eyes narrowed, night turning into day.

And then I saw her.

Ashley sat on a jagged, elevated slab of stone while the three panthers circled her position. I couldn’t even imagine how terrified she must be.

Relief washed over me, buoying my spirits. She was scared but not hurt.

I’m coming for you, Ashley, I thought, knowing I was the furthest thing from a knight in shining armor at this point. More like a monster from her darkest nightmares. Spotting a humanoid panther man in the dark might push her right over the edge. I had to proceed with caution.

Easier said than done.

Three jungle cats guarded the large rock on which Ashley had sought refuge. Seeing the vacant expression etched into her beautiful face broke my heart. That thousand-yard stare didn’t belong to the bubbly, fun-loving Ashley I’d fallen for. Sadness warred with my anger, and I clutched the Codex against my furry chest.

As I advanced toward the jaguar habitat, I realized something else. These panthers weren’t shifters but real jungle cats. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but I just did. Maybe their scent was different.

Even though most weres gave up much of their humanity when they transformed, something remained in their eyes, an echo of a soul. These cats were just animals. And that meant Santara was telepathically controlling the behavior of these creatures. If her mental control should falter, if the telepathic link was severed… I didn’t want to think about the terrible consequences that would have for Ashley.

“Look, Erik, I know I can be irritating,” Kolvak said, “but don’t lose your cool. I know Ashley means a lot to you, but she’ll be okay. You can do this, kid.”

Weirdly, Kolvak’s words calmed me down.

I took a few steps back and then ran toward the jungle cat habitat with all my might.

I launched myself into the air and shot over the fence. Landing with preternatural grace, I let out a breath. Guard up, I went into my haunches, eyes alert, fixed on the three large cats guarding Ashley.

She squinted into the shadows. I prayed for her sake that she couldn’t make me out in the dark. She had witnessed enough horrors for one night.

My glowing eyes cast the habitat, looking for Santara.

I knew she was here.

And then I spotted her splayed out on a large tree branch, and for a moment I forgot to exhale. Her head was that of a panther, hands and feet were paws, black fur running down her arms. Her nude body on the other hand was human, a pair of perfectly shaped breasts resting on the large branch as if she was serving them up on a platter.

Freaky.

Sensing my approach, Santara jumped from the tree and landed about twenty feet away from me. She rose on her hind legs and stretched, displaying herself to me. The were-queen was half human, half panther, and yet wholly arousing. Her allure caught me off guard. Perhaps that had been her point all along as she confidently strode toward me, comfortable with her sexual power.

I searched the habitat for her soldiers and realized she was alone.

I understood now why she’d picked the zoo for this rendezvous. The League had decimated her forces during the last attack. Instead of waiting for reinforcements to arrive, Santara had decided to use these animals as her henchman during this critical exchange.

“Stop where you are,” I said as I flashed a hard look at her. She halted in her tracks. Despite the high stakes of the situation, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The moonlight through the trees sketched shadows on her body, which revealed more than they hid.

“You brought the book?”

“I’m willing to hold up my part of the bargain as long as you do the same.”

For good measure, I held up the Codex above my head. The rays of the moon danced over the leather-bound pages, and for one crazed moment, it almost felt like the tome gave off a divine light.

“You take a step closer, and I’ll destroy the pages that contain the ritual. I’ll eat them if I have to. Do you understand?”

Santara grew still, her response speaking volumes.

“Control those beasts and let Ashley leave the habitat.”

For a beat, nothing happened. Then Santara pulled her magnetic gaze from me and fixed her eyes on the three panthers guarding Ashley.

Slowly, the animals started to back away from the rock.

Ashley didn’t budge, her arms wrapped around her torso, hugging herself.

Move, I silently urged her. Get the hell out of here.

But it was no use. Ashley remained frozen in place, still in shock.

I couldn’t blame her. Anyone would have reacted in the same if they found themselves in her harrowing situation. She did not understand that the panthers wouldn’t harm her unless Santara loosened her telepathic control over them.

She needed help to pull this off. A familiar voice. The face of a friend.

I focused all my energy, and my panther features began to change while my body remained in its mutant state. I don’t know how I did it without crying out in agony. I feared my screams might startle the creatures and break Santara’s hold over them.

I stifled the scream building in my throat and tried to focus on Ashley, reminding myself why I couldn’t give in to the pain.

At last, the waves of agony subsided and inhaled deeply. I locked my gaze on Ashley and addressed her with my human voice.

“Ashley, it’s me, Erik,” I said.

My voice snapped Ashley out of her trance. She perked up, eyes searching the habitat, but I was still in the shadows.

“Listen carefully, Ashley. You can get off that rock. Those panthers won’t harm you, I swear.”

I didn’t even sound convincing to myself, but I pressed on. There was nothing else I could do.

“Do it, Ashley. Just follow my voice, head towards me.”

“What's happening, Erik?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Don’t worry about that now. Just come to me. You will be safe; I swear to God.”

As I spoke, my eyes remained riveted on Santara.

The three panthers further backed away from the rocks. Encouraged by this, Ashley decided to be brave and slide down the boulder.

My blood roared in my ears, and my ribcage felt like it would explode. Just a little farther and Ashley would be safe.

Keep going, Ashley, you can do this. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep walking. Walk out of this nightmare.

Ashley took her first step. And her second.

The panthers remained as silent sentinels who watched the human make her way through their habitat.

I allowed myself a hint of a smile, and I held the Codex toward the were-queen

As she advanced towards me, a second humanoid werepanther joined her. Judging by her curves, this one had to be female too. Apparently, there had been another survivor of the downtown battle. This soldier of hers had lurked in the shadows, acting as a back-up in case I pulled a fast one on them.

The were-queen nodded her head at her underling, and the panther woman homed in on me.

She stopped a few feet away, her gaze expectant.

“Time to give me what I want,” Santara said.

I hesitated for a beat. I felt like an extra in a spy flick who was about to hand over the secret blueprints of some super weapon to the enemy—an apt analogy considering the immense power contained within the pages of the Codex. I only translated a handful of pages, and those were bad enough. What other secrets did this cursed tome contain?”

I took another look at Ashley, and that gave me the push I needed. She was walking as if trapped in a fever dream, the terror turning her lovely features into a quivering mask.

I had no choice. I’d known that the moment Santara had answered Ashley’s phone.

Seeing my friend so terrified erased the last traces of doubt, and I handed the Codex to Santara’s soldier. The panther woman took the book and started to walk back to her queen.

To my surprise, Santara regarded me coldly, her eyes chips of ice. What was wrong? I’d given her the damn book.

“I told you to come alone.”

“And I did.”

“You’re a terrible, liar, Erik Cross.”

As if to prove her point, a loud gunshot rang out and kicked up dirt right next to the were-queen’s feet. A second later, the world descended into utter madness.

17

As soon as Erik had hung up the phone—her phone—Natalia knew everything had changed. There would be no deal with the archeology professor.

While Erik tied her to a chair despite her protests, he tried to explain himself.

“I’m sorry to do this, but Santara is leaving me no other choice. She has Ashley, and she’ll kill my friend unless I give her what she wants.”

Erik showed her the cell cam video of the woman being held at the zoo. The woman’s terror came through in the grainy images. Sleek panthers circled the hapless hostage.

Natalia knew Erik was showing her the video to convince both her and himself that he had no other choice. This woman meant something to the archeology professor, and he refused to let her die. Natalia understood the emotional place Erik was coming from, but he needed to weigh one life against the many innocent lives that would be lost if the Followers of Bastet gained the Codex and carried out the ritual.

“Please try to look at the bigger picture,” Natalia said, trying to appeal to his sense of reason. “If you hand the Codex to Santara, it will affect thousands of lives.”

“Giving them the book won’t be the end of the world. The ritual can only be carried out during a full moon. That gives us three weeks to stop these bastards even if they have the book.”

Natalia shook her head.

“You’re deceiving yourself if you think that’s an option. Once Santara has the Codex, how will we find her? These shifters can blend in among the population. As soon as they get their hands on the book, they’ll go underground and lie low until the next full moon.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“You putting all of us at risk.”

“What do you want me to do? Watch while these panthers rip Ashley apart? I’m sorry. That’s not an option.”

And with these words, Erik tightened her restraints and left the apartment with the Codex.

That was about thirty minutes ago. Thirty minutes during which Natalia had tried to break free.

Today wasn’t the first time someone had tied her up, and she was making some progress.

She’d held her breath while Erik had applied the ropes, so she had some wiggling room. Her extensive yoga and martial arts training also gave her great flexibility, which was coming in handy right now. She might not be able to pull off a Houdini, but with time, she could shake the chair enough to knock it over. There was no doubt in her mind she could free herself, but it would take time—time she didn’t have.

Natalia clenched her jaw in frustration and redoubled her efforts, rocking back and forth in the chair. She generated enough momentum to knock the chair over.

It fell back against the stone floor with a loud crack. Pain spiked through her shoulders and spine, but she was too excited to pay it any mind. The fall had produced the desired results. The wooden chair had broken in multiple places, giving her more to work with.

And that’s when she heard incoming footsteps. She twisted her neck, craned it upward at the new arrival. A couple in their thirties loomed over her, both the man and the woman’s eyes flickering with shocked surprise at finding a tied-up stranger in their pad. These had to be the people who lived here. From the looks of it, they were returning from a fun night of clubbing.

Luckily for her, the couple’s first instinct wasn’t to ring the cops; instead, the man freed her from the ropes. A needling pain filled her wrists and ankles as blood rushed back into areas where the restraints had cut off her circulation. For a beat, she massaged her limbs, adjusting to the change.

The woman brought her a glass of water, having noticed how parched her lips were. Natalia knew the questions would come soon. What was she doing in their apartment? Who had tied her up? Why was the window broken? What was going on?

Natalia felt grateful for the couple’s assistance, but she couldn’t allow herself to waste more time. She needed to act fast.

As the man fished his cell from his jacket, clearly intending to call the police, Natalia jumped to her feet. Her face twisted into a pain-filled mask, but she ignored the stabbing sensation rushing through her legs.

“Give me your phone.”

The couple eyed her as if she had addressed them in an unknown tongue.

Growing impatient, Natalia's hand snapped out. A few minutes and punches later, the helpful Samaritans lay on the ground, and Natalia was helping herself to their phone.

“I’m sorry, guys,” she said and meant it as she thumbed Cutter’s number into the cell. She didn’t know if her superior had survived the battle with the weres and was grateful to hear his gravelly voice on the other end of the line after two rings.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “How fast can you get a team to the Los Angeles Zoo?”

18

For a split second, I thought (or perhaps I hoped) that I’d imagined the gunshot. As more gunfire rang out in quick succession, I couldn’t deny the reality of what was happening.

Someone was shooting at us. My gut told me they were firing silver bullets.

I received proof of this a moment later when a round struck Santara’s soldier. The impact of the round spun the were around, and her panther form disintegrated into a rain of ashes. The sleek, fur-covered body evaporated, almost as if the beast was spitting out a woman it had consumed earlier. Her human form collapsed, eyes wide and empty, her torso pockmarked by gaping red bullet holes.

Somehow the League had learned about the exchange and was intent on crashing this party.

Santara glared at me, her sense of betrayal palpable. She blamed me for the werepanthers' death. I wondered if they’d been friends. Had the were-queen cared about her lieutenant?

And then she was gone. The shadows had swallowed her whole—taking the book with her.

Tufts of earth exploded around my padded feet, proving Santara wasn’t the only creature the monster hunters were targeting. There was only one explanation for the rain of bullets. Natalia had alerted the League. Somehow the hunter had freed herself from my restraints and contacted Cutter.

Fantastic. Really, this had just been the best week ever.

I darted behind a boulder as my face morphed into full panther mode.

If they wanted a monster, they’d get one.

As the bullets rained down around me, the line between good and evil blurred in my mind. I want to strike back at my enemies. How dare these bastards to shoot at me? I didn’t care that I was a dangerous beast, and my attackers were technically the good guys protecting humanity against things like myself. Only one thing mattered—survival, regardless of the cost.

Roars drowned out the gunfire, and a chill raced up my spine.

The sound was coming from the three panthers in the habitat. Santara had used her powerful will to temper their instincts, suppress their natural appetites. With her control gone, the panthers responded the way hungry jungle cats did when they were close to prey. They pounced on Ashley.

She had crossed about half the length of the habitat when the frozen felines came alive and turned their lethal attention on her. She was too far away from the boulder to run back to her safe spot--not that it would have done any good. She was also too far from my position for me to shield her from the three ravenous animals.

More gunfire erupted behind me, and under normal circumstances, I would have happily avoided the volley of bullets. With three panthers surging toward Ashley, I couldn’t allow myself that luxury.

I had to act. Now.

I unleashed a fearsome roar of my own, fear for Ashley’s life mixing with the rage of the beast.

More silver bullets chopped the rocks and trees, and I sought refuge in the habitat’s pool of water with a loud splash. As the water closed around my panther form—bullets sizzling overhead, way too close to comfort—the image of the disintegrating were-panther consumed my mind. One wrong move and a similar fate would befall me.

For a second, the gunfire ceased, and another, even more, terrifying sound filled the night — the roar of the three panthers mixed with Ashley’s screams.

Something snapped inside of me, and I burst out of the pond, water streaming down my hide as I powered toward Ashley. My amber eyes widened in abject horror as the first panther launched itself at her. I would be too late to save her.

Damn it, this wasn’t fair! I had played ball with Santara, given her what she wanted. I’d practically doomed humanity, and still, fate would not spare the only woman I’d ever loved.

As the panther buried Ashley under its bulk, I tore with all my strength and fury toward the beast, oblivious of the silver bullets whipping the air.

I was beyond thought, beyond self-preservation. Only one thing mattered at this point—saving Ashley. Come hell or high water, I wouldn’t let these wild cats tear her apart.

I reached the panther a beat later, my claw-like hand snatched the animal’s tail and swung it off Ashley with all my might as if I was auditioning for a new Tarzan movie.

The two-hundred-pound cat went flying into the nearest boulder with a bone-shattering crunch, his caved-in head leaving a wet trail of red behind.

I whirled toward the other two panthers, who hissed and roared at me but wisely didn’t attack. Determined to avoid the same fate of the first panther, the two jungle cats loped toward the relative safety of the pond.

I spun toward Ashley. A deep gash ran down her forehead where she’d hit the rock on the way down, but she was alive. Utterly terrified, but alive.

I’d done the impossible. I’d saved Ashley. Now I just had to get her out of here.

Then she saw me and began to scream. Gripped by mortal fear, oblivious that I was here to rescue her, she jumped to her feet and turned to run.

Another crack rang out, and a hole opened in her chest, and my entire world went numb. I watched in frozen terror as she collapsed in what appeared to be slow motion.

I dove toward Ashley, caught her body before it hit the ground and shot into the darkness with her in my arms.

Hiding behind a series of boulders, I lowered Ashley to the ground. Even though a monster hovered over her, she looked into my eyes, almost like she could see right through my panther form.

“Erik…?”

Her voice trailed off as she drew her final breath.

My heart thudded like a booming thunderclap in my chest, and then I went cold inside.

The human part of me gently closed Ashley’s eyes. The beast in me turned toward the murdering bastards crouched in the darkness.

“Erik, consider the consequences of what you’re about to do,” the warlock warned.

The voice that answered him wasn’t human. It was a roar beyond reason and human words beyond mercy.

Kolvak grew silent, realizing he wouldn’t be able to stop me.

As my fury intensified, I opened the door to the beast, and grief gave way to bloodlust.

I tilted my head in the direction of the shooters, now one with my beast.

As my gaze combed the shadowy habitat, I saw my attackers crouched behind trees and rocks — murderous cowards.

I reared up to my full height. What did the monster hunters see? My fangs gleaming in the moonlight, my eyes golden slits in the darkness? The claws that would tear them apart for what they’d done?

I let out a growl, low-pitched, and menacing. And then I exploded into motion.

The League was about to learn what the curse of the panther truly meant.

19

My mind went blank as the madness consumed me.

I burst into the darkness, uncaring of the hail of bullets ripping past me. I moved with incredible speed, zig-zagged and hugged the rocks and trees that littered the habitat while I zeroed in on my enemies. My tail acted as a rudder as I cut right and left, heart pumping, lungs bellowing.

I reached the first monster hunter within seconds. He grew still, and I knew the fierce amber glare of my eyes had hypnotized him.

My claws lashed out without mercy or humanity, and I left a gaping hole where the man’s neck had been. A scream lodged in his throat, fingers frozen on the trigger, the hunter slumped to the ground. He was dead by the time his head hit the soft grass.

I roared, the beast unleashed, my humanity reduced to a distant echo. The monster was in charge now.

I darted away from the man, homing in on the second shooter. My powerful jaw clamped down on the man’s wrist, and with a quick snap of the head, I flung the severed hand into the darkness. My snout winnowed into the screaming man’s throat and silenced him for good in a fountain of red. I roared and twisted away from the dead man, plunging into shadows, eager to chomp down on my next victim.

More gunfire, more screams, more hunters who succumbed to the wrath of the panther. Each time I identified another shooter, I ended another life.

I crossed the distance to the next assassin in a great, surefooted leap, and the man’s gun bounced off into the night. My claws reduced his features to tatters.

Without pausing to catch my breath, power, and exhilaration singing in my blood, I pinpointed the scent of another hunter and rippled toward the trigger-happy bastard in a mad dash. I opened my slavering jaw to crush the man’s throat and tore the shooter’s flesh into crimson ribbons.

As a hunter rushed to his aid, I skewered his body on my claws before he even knew what hit him. My fangs crunched cartilage and bone, strips of flesh hanging from my mouth.

It tasted good. I wanted more.

I don’t know for how long I raged or how many lives I snuffed out. I lost count after the first few hunters, my sanity taking a distant backseat to the beast who now controlled my actions.

When it was all done, and all the hunters were dead or dying, I flung myself over the electrified fence of the habitat and vanished into the thick undergrowth of Griffith Park.

* * *

Natalia arrived at the zoo at the same time Cutter did. The carnage that awaited them at the jungle cat habitat sickened her. When she learned that Erik was responsible for the massacre, she at first refused to believe it. But the two survivors who clung to life for a few minutes before they succumbed to their catastrophic injuries were telling the truth.

Once she discovered that one hunter had shot Ashley during the battle, Erik’s behavior started to make more sense, but it was still no excuse for this bloodbath. Maybe a part of her had hoped that the League might spare the archeology professor once they realized that he was on their side.

Seeing the woman he cared about die in front of his eyes had made Erik snap. The magical power of the medallion could not contain his beast. He was beyond redemption, salvation now. She would have to hunt Erik and down like any other monster.

With a heavy heart, Natalia turned to Cutter and started to tell him about the terrible ritual the Followers of Bastet planned to carry out three weeks from this date.

20

The next hours passed in a blur. Consciousness only returned when the sun kissed my face, and I found myself naked in some abandoned downtown parking lot. My nails were covered in red, and my heaving guts wretched up pieces of flesh. Guts roiling, I emptied the contents of my stomach in a scarlet torrent.

Numb from the night of horrors, I stalked the streets of downtown LA and passed through a homeless encampment like a zombie. The tent city had sprung up below a freeway overpass that offered some protection from the elements. My vivid imagination could see the whole structure collapse during some major earthquake and bury the settlement under tons of cement and metal, but the lost souls foraging out an existence on these streets didn’t care about such hypothetical dangers, focused on more immediate problems.

“I’m sorry about Ashley,” Kolvak said. “It’s always the innocent who get caught in the crossfire.”

Judging by the grief in the warlock’s voice, he was talking from personal experience, but I drew little comfort from our shared tragedy.

The medallion’s magic had failed me back in the zoo. My rage had been too overwhelming to keep a tight leash on the beast. Losing control had been both liberating and terrifying.

I helped myself to some clothes and somehow made it back to my Culver City apartment. I didn't worry about the hunters intercepting me. I had killed them all. It would take time for reinforcements to arrive in the city.

I showered the blood and grime off my body and got dressed. Taking in my one-bedroom abode, I realized that I couldn’t stay here. My job at the university, my apartment, even my Honda—they were parts of another life.

I had murdered innocent men and women. I was a killer and a monster, damned to be hunted down like a wild animal.

I had to leave LA to put some distance between myself and my old life. I had to figure out what would come next.

I knew the League would chase after me. I’d drawn first blood. Much of the night was a blur, but I sensed Cutter had not been among my victims. I would have remembered killing the scarred bastard. The monster hunter wouldn’t rest until my head had become his latest trophy.

I thought of Ashley as I stepped out of my home of the last five years. Her last moments tormented me, and I kept seeing her dying in my mind’s eye. I fought back tears as I walked out of my building.

I was dressed in a pair of jeans, a leather jacket, and a pair of boots. I was carrying a light backpack with a few essentials. Everything else, I’d left behind.

I headed to the nearest bank, cleared out my accounts, and turned my meager savings into cash. Then I cut up all my credit cards. I knew the League had the means to track any electronic transactions if I was foolish enough to use plastic. Finally, I traded my conservative Honda Civic for a beaten Kawasaki Vulcan motorcycle. I had ridden a few bikes as a teen and felt confident I could remember how to control this one.

I turned out to be right.

As I screamed toward the city limits on my new wheels, the vast stretch of desert awaiting me, I allowed myself to cry. I had lost a home, a life, a future. Worst of all, Ashley had died because of me.

I had no idea where I was going, but I knew what I needed to do. Stop the Followers of Bastet.

The next full moon would be in three weeks.

I could not allow Santara and her pride to carry out the ritual.

The hunters had shot Ashley, but I held the were-queen responsible for what had happened. Santara had pulled Ashley into this madness, and before that, she’d bitten me and cursed me.

“I get it. You’re all torn up inside, but you don’t even know where you’re headed, Erik. How do you expect to stop the Followers of Bastet without a plan?”

“Sometimes you have to clear your head so you can come up with a plan.”

As the urban sprawl of Los Angeles receded in my rearview mirror and the terrain grew more mountainous and stark, I vowed I would do everything in my power to stop the Followers of Bastet from carrying out their terrible agenda.

Perhaps it would take a monster to stop a race of monsters.

Only time would tell.

I cranked the bike’s engine and tore towards the barren mountains up ahead.

My old life had ended, but my story was far from over.

THE END

Erik Cross, the Followers of Bastet, the League of Light and a few other beasties will return in

PANTHER HUNT

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William Massa’s Night Hunters

Also by WILLIAM MASSA

THE NIGHT SLAYER SERIES

Midnight War

Monster Quest

Shadow Plague

THE SHADOW DETECTIVE SERIES

Cursed City

Soul Catcher

Blood Rain

Demon Dawn

Skull Master

Ghoul Night

Witch Wars

Crimson Circle

Hell Breaker

Dragon Curse

Shadow Lord (coming soon)

THE OCCULT ASSASSIN SERIES

Damnation Code

Apocalypse Soldier

Ice Shadows

Spirit Breaker

Soul Jacker

Doomsday Disciples (coming soon)

THE GARGOYLE KNIGHT SERIES

Gargoyle Knight

Gargoyle Quest

STAND ALONES

Fear the Light

About the Author

William Massa is a produced screenwriter and bestselling Amazon author. His film credits include Return to House on Haunted Hill and he has sold pitches and scripts to Warner, USA TV, Silver Pictures, Dark Castle, Maverick and Sony.

William has lived in New York, Florida, Europe and now resides in Venice Beach surrounded by skaters and surfers. He writes science fiction and dark fantasy/urban fantasy horror with an action-adventure flavor.

Writing can be a solitary pursuit but rewriting can be a group effort. I strive to make each book better than the last and feedback is incredibly helpful. If you have notes, thoughts or comments about this book or want to contact me, feel free to contact me at:

williammassabooks@gmail.com

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