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 wi
th 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.
Panther Curse Page 5