Black Cougar Curse

by Tess MacKall

  Lucia stared at Sam, her stance that of a woman unafraid of what lay ahead. As Sam slowly gave in to the blackness creeping into the edges of his mind—what the hell’s wrong with me? Why am I so damn weak?—he marveled at her tenacity, her strength. He allowed a small smile to tweak his lips, knowing her cougar’s strength would be growing by the second.

  She jerked forward, hair falling across one side of her face, and called out, “Say nothing, Sam! I’ll be all right. They won’t—”

  “Shut the hell up!” the man shouted, his long black hair splayed out over the shoulders of his gray suit.

  Sam stared at him, hatred festering in his gut. He looked familiar, yet Sam hadn’t had much contact with any of the locals except White Owl for years. A memory tugged at his fading consciousness, of a boy Sam knew as child—a boy he was warned to stay away from. The eyes were the same—recessed and too wide apart—and his nose, sloped and pointed, matched the image of the boy he once knew. What was his name? Sam growled low in his throat at his inability to remember.

  It’s not possible this is the same guy. Too much time has passed. Unless… No, no way he’s a cougar too. Fuck! Where do I know this guy from? Could this man carry Manohar’s blackened soul?

  Before he could process his mangled thoughts, Sam sank into a dark void, fathoms deep and a million miles from Lucia.

  * * * * *

  Lucia tried to jerk out of the long-haired man’s grip but he held her tightly.

  “Stop it, bitch!” he snapped, squeezing her wrists tighter.

  She winced in pain and stared at Sam, who lay motionless. Was he dead? Oh God, no. No!

  “What the hell has that man done to him?” she shouted, pulling forward, trying to get to Sam. Anger boiled up alongside a fear so huge it threatened to overwhelm her and she sucked in a deep breath to steady her fast-beating heart.

  “Knocked him out. He’ll be fine—if he tells us what we want to know.”

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Lucia said through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t know a damn thing about what you want.”

  “But you do. Get in the truck.” He shoved her forward, guiding her to the passenger door, swinging it open.

  Lucia dug in her heels. “No way am I getting in there with you.”

  Something clenched in her belly, a tightening of muscles she hadn’t experienced before. Her spine snapped straight, her head jerking back to meet his face. The man released one of her wrists and spun her around to face him, slamming her back against the side of the truck bed. He covered his nose with his free hand, blood seeping between his splayed fingers.

  “You’ll regret that, lady. Now get. In. The damn. Truck!”

  He let go of her arm and fisted her hair, pushing her head down and in through the side door. Lucia pushed back, but he shoved her inside. Sprawled across both seats, the shift stick jabbing into her hip, Lucia scrambled to her knees and lurched forward, sinking her fingers into his eye sockets. He screamed and careened backward but righted himself in time to prevent her getting out of the truck. Eyes bunched closed, he pressed himself to the truck, trapping her inside. Clenching her fist, Lucia drew her arm back and punched him in the balls. Again he staggered backward and bent double, a series of pained groans and curses grumbling out of him. Heart thumping, she clambered out of the truck and ran toward Sam.

  Only to find him gone.

  She spun in a circle, scenting the air for signs of him, smelling nothing but damp foliage and the man by the truck. She raced toward him. He’d brought himself upright, his face contorted in rage, hands out as she approached. She came within inches of him and surged forward, smacking her palms against his chest. This time he didn’t move. He remained solid and resolute, and his hands came up to grip her wrists.

  “That was the last and only time you will ever get over on me,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

  She bit back a gag at his breath, focusing instead on breaking free again. She lifted her knee, thrust it into his groin and pushed him backward. He fell, taking her with him, and she landed on top of him, a whoomph of air gusting from her. He bared his teeth and gripped her wrists tighter, pinching the delicate skin. She cried out and thrashed against him, wrenching one hand free. Clawing at his face, she raked her nails down his cheek, four lines of blood filling the nasty scratches she made there. He let her go and she scrabbled to her feet, chest heaving.

  If he’s hurt Sam, I’ll kill this bastard.

  She backed toward the trees, watching him sit up and cover his cheek with one hand. He stared at her as though deciding whether it was worth pursuing her again. He must have decided it was because he ran toward her, face contorted in a silent scream, hands stretched out in front of him, ready to strike. Lucia took a split second to consider her options. Either she ran or faced him head-on. With his speed, she’d have to face him. Bracing herself for impact, she fisted her hands and held her breath. He drew closer, closer still, a scream of rage ripping from him. His hair streamed out behind him and his suit jacket flapped open. As though it was all happening in slow motion, Lucia stepped to the side and eased out her foot, digging her heel into the ground, her toe pointing skyward. The Indian didn’t have time to change course and tripped, hurtling past her and landing facedown on the ground.

  Lucia whirled, her stomach muscles bunching tighter. She stared at his still form and her body hollowed, her bones seeming to liquefy, leaving her limp and weak.

  No. No, I can’t faint now…

  As if her soul had separated from her body, she rose above herself and looked down at the scene. The man remained prone on the ground. She watched herself undress, confused as to why she would do so in this situation. Her clothes in a heap, she stood naked and turned to the sky. Meeting her own gaze unnerved her—those eyes weren’t the ones she stared at in a mirror. They changed shape, became rounder, larger. Her irises blazed yellow, the pupils elongating to slim black slits. Lucia gasped, confused. What the fuck was going on? Was she dead? Was this the first leg of her journey to Hell? Her body slumped to the ground amid a miasma of sparkling fog. She tried calling out to herself, to make her body stand upright and run. Resting on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, she shook, yet her separated self floated without tremors, cloaked in a feeling of peace. With startling speed her arms and legs shot out, hands and toes splayed. Claws sprang from her fingertips and thick dense hair sprouted on her hands, growing up her arms and covering the rest of her body. She gasped, in awe of what she witnessed, and reveled in the sense of belonging that stole over her. She had finally found herself. After a glance at the still man, Lucia returned her attention to herself.

  And stared down at a black cougar.

  Sam?

  The cougar looked up, blinked its mesmerizing eyes, and Lucia’s spirit plummeted toward it. The warmth of a body enveloped her, fitting snuggly around her soul, and she glanced down at her feet.

  Paws…

  Inhaling a deep breath, she tried to scream, but all that came out was a keening wail. Her gums ached and new teeth burst through them, the pain sharp and shocking.

  Jesus Christ… God help me, but I’m a fucking cougar. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I can’t deal with this, can’t…

  She searched for any sane thought to hold on to, but her sense of self began to recede, replaced by a stronger, more instinctual being. Though the woman she was lingered, this new part of her pushed to the forefront.

  She walked forward, stumbling a little on all fours, her paws digging into the ground. Her muscles moved differently, like well-oiled machinery. Her skin furrowed—ripples on a lake—and her whiskers twitched. Sniffing the Indian, she nudged his foot with her muzzle, wishing she could shout at him to stand the fuck up. Again, all that emerged was a wail, quickly followed by a frightening growl. The man stirred and lifted his head. Lucia growled again and his body tensed. She smiled and imagined her bared teeth greeting him as he turned to her. He stood, eyes wide, arms out to ward her off.

  “What
the fuck?” he whispered, backing away.

  What the fuck indeed.

  Was this the man who had ordered her father’s death? Was he Jacob’s boss, the one who had orchestrated this whole damn mess and caused so much pain? Was he Manohar?

  An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…

  Lucia sprang forward, front paws to his shoulders, and clamped her teeth down on his neck. He sailed backward, arms windmilling, and Lucia had never felt so free and alive in her whole life.

  She smiled.

  That was the last and only time you’ll ever get over on me.

  Chapter Ten

  Lucia stared at the dead long-haired man through her cougar’s eyes. She licked the blood from her muzzle, the taste foreign but natural, almost sweet. She’d killed a man yet felt no remorse. Would she feel guilty when she shifted again? Could she push thoughts of what she’d done to a part of her mind that belonged only to the animal? She didn’t know and had no time to dwell on it now. Sam needed her help and she’d be damned if another person she loved would lose his life.

  Scanning the area and sniffing the scents on the breeze, she took off in the direction of the stream. A loud crack echoed through the surrounding forest and a sharp pain lanced her left hind leg. She released a yowl of pain and crouched low in the long grass. Wetness soaked her leg and she dared not move to look. Panic wasn’t an option right now.

  A dark shape darted between tree trunks, growing bigger as it neared. The shadowed human form stepped out of the forest and stood panting, white breaths sailing into the air and dissipating before a new cloud replaced it.

  A man. Moonface? Lucia scented the air. Not Moonface. Someone…different. A familiar tang struck her and she lifted her head. Shit, no. What’s Jacob doing here? Shock at her discovery brought a flutter of uncertainty to her belly. She caught sight of her front paws as she flexed what she’d thought were fingers, relieved at still being the cougar She’d forgotten, the shift so new and the presence of her human emotions confusing her. I can deal with him this way—providing he doesn’t shoot me again.

  Moonlight streaked across him as he walked closer, showcasing a black fog emanating around him. A dense, immediate extension of his body, it thinned a few inches from him, shimmying like cigarette smoke, curlicues coiling and spiraling.

  What the hell is that?

  She peered harder, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the fog remained, growing thicker as he approached. Moonbeams illuminated his face, showing her his cruel expression, the hard planes of his cheeks and jaw she hadn’t noticed before. Lucia breathed slowly so as not to alert him with her own white breath clouds, despite burgeoning fear at the sight of his raised rifle. He intended to wound her further, but he wouldn’t kill. She knew that now just as she knew she loved the burst of a new sunrise, the setting of a lazy summer sun and…Sam.

  Jacob stopped a few feet from her, searching for the cougar. The black mist around him deepened, the tendrils edged with flaming red. Something told her the aura had meaning and she allowed her mind to process the new information while she kept her gaze steady on him. Was it anger? Danger? Hate?

  He raised the gun, wedged the handle into his armpit and aimed it at the grass where she lay. She wanted to close her eyes, to shut out the sight of him, but her cougar forced her to keep them open. His finger curled around the trigger, pulling back in slow motion, and a breath born of fright huffed out of her mouth, giving away her position. Shots peppered the ground in front of her, mud spraying, dull thuds hitting the ground, the reverberation shuddering through her. Slow and steady she reversed, stifling a whine as pain seared her hind leg. The grass rustled with her movements and she stilled, eyeing him, expecting a fresh assault of bullets.

  He crept forward, gun poised, his footsteps eclipsing the sound of the burbling stream. “Where are you, cat?” He paused, then, “Fucking think I won’t find you, huh?”

  Lucia’s cougar pushed for dominance and she allowed its force to seep into her. A growl threatened to erupt and she tamped it down, breathing through her nose, jaw clamped shut. He drew closer, the stench of him much stronger than she ever remembered, raw and mean and nasty. And another scent spiked, headier than the others.

  Fear.

  She stretched her lips back in a semblance of a smile and watched him take exaggerated careful steps. His right foot appeared through a swath of grass and she darted her head forward, clamping her teeth around his ankle and standing on all fours to draw his foot up. He lurched backward, eyes wide, arms akimbo, his startled yell ripping through the air. Thumping onto his back, he let go of the rifle and it disappeared into the long grass. Lucia snarled, biting harder, and dragged him to the stream. He pummeled the ground with his fists. Once on the bank he lifted his upper body. The whole of his aura blazed red now, the tips bright yellow sparks. Anger undulated from him in waves, urging Lucia on. He darted his head from side to side as though searching for his rifle. She took the opportunity to release his ankle and whip around to his back. Using all of her strength she butted him with her head. He reeled into the water, the resultant splash almost obscene in the quiet of the night.

  Lucia walked backward, staring at the ripples his entrance had made while deciding her next course of action. Should she continue her search for Sam now?

  “If we should get separated out here, head to the hidden waterfall.”

  What if Sam waited for her there? Wouldn’t it be better to check at the waterfall before trying elsewhere? She couldn’t catch his scent back where she’d last seen him and she couldn’t smell him now. Moonface had taken him somewhere, she was sure of it, but what if Sam had escaped?

  “Do you remember how to get there?”

  Did she? She glanced around, sniffing the air, panic at her indecision erasing her memory for a moment. Lucia searched her mind, willed it to give her some recollection of where she had to go. It came along with a whiff of remembrance on the wind—wet rock from the cave—and she veered her rear end to the right, edging her way backward, gaze fixed on the now-calm stream.

  Suddenly, two hands breached the stream’s surface, quickly followed by the man’s head. His mouth opened to suck in air and his hands flailed, smacking the water. Droplets rose in perfect globes, moonlight glancing off their curved tops, then dashed down into the stream, bleeding back into their original form. He called out incoherent words full of panic. Lucia halted.

  He shouted louder, clearer. “Help! I’m stuck! Help!”

  She imagined weeds had clamped their soaking tendrils around his ankles, holding him in place. Memories of their last conversation as well as the results of his sending her father to find the cougar rushed through her human mind. He hadn’t cared for her father—had cared for nothing but his objective, for no one but himself. Her cougar reasoned if she were only a cougar she should act as nature intended. Freedom was hers and she ought to flee the scene, grateful in the morning to see another sunrise.

  Sam’s face came to mind, and the day he had rescued her and said the same thing. Tears stung her eyes and she laughed. Cougars didn’t cry. Cougars didn’t feel this way. Humans did.

  But I’m not exactly human. Sorry, Jacob, but you’re on your own.

  * * * * *

  Sam woke to the sight of a plain white wall inches ahead of him and a closed wooden door to the right, the jamb warped with age. Moonlight shone brightly through the window to his left and he was able to make out the rocky terrain of a slope at the back of the cabin. He sat naked on a pine chair, ankles and wrists bound with coarse rope. Neck aching, he winced as a stabbing pain streaked through his head.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Judging by the moon’s position in the sky, not much time had elapsed since he’d passed out. He had to be west of his cabin and they had to be in old man Martin’s hunting cabin. Maybe a mile or two away from his own at the most. He turned his head. Moonface stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his pasty face. Mouth dry, Sam moved his l
ips to speak but no sound emerged. He blinked to clear the remaining fog of sleep and made eye contact with the big man. “Where’s Lucia?” Sam croaked.

  Moonface smiled wider.

  Sam cleared his throat. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

  “Like you don’t know.” Moonface pushed himself off the wall and strode toward Sam. “Your bitch has something we need. Information on a certain animal roaming these parts.”

  “What animal?” You hurt her, you son of a bitch, and I’ll…

  Moonface stopped in front of Sam and bent at the waist. When their noses were almost touching, he said, “A black cougar.” Straightening, he leaned against the opposite wall, hands on hips, and regarded Sam with hooded brown eyes. “A black cougar that is really a human.”

  Sam laughed loudly, hiding his anger. “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.” He laughed again, the sound belying the fear that pervaded his body. Shit, they know… “There’s no such animal around here, let alone one that changes into a damn human. You’re wasting your time. The cougar is a myth.”

  A quick uppercut from Moonface slugged Sam backward. The chair struck the hardwood floor and the pain in his head as it smacked into something with a hard edge obliterated that in his jaw. Sam gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, waiting for another blow. It didn’t come. Instead, Moonface gripped Sam’s biceps, hauled him to his feet and turned him to face the other half of the room, a coffee table the only other furniture.

  “See that up there?” Moonface asked, pointing to the ceiling.

  Sam looked up. A sturdy meat hook had been screwed into one of the black beams. What the hell was this guy going to do? Hang him up there and torture him? He lowered his head and aimed his gaze dead at the man. “Yes…”

  “That’ll be your anchor for the next few hours if you don’t tell me what I want to know.” Moonface’s fingernails bit into Sam’s flesh.

  Sam’s stomach clenched and he welcomed the sensation as it grew in intensity. “Get these damn ropes off me and I’ll talk.” He stared at the man, hoping sincerity shone from his eyes—eyes that would soon change to bright yellow orbs if he couldn’t control the impending shift.