Chapter Thirty-Six
I didn’t believe for a minute that Mezareau would just give me the diamond and let me waltz out of Haiti.
However, I wasn’t going to tell him that.
The day passed slowly. Mezareau made me leave the Closed sign in the window. “Do you think I’m foolish enough to allow one of your Jäger-Sucher friends to just walk in and kill me?”
I had been hoping. There was only one problem.
“They think you’re dead.”
“Edward Mandenauer is no fool, either.”
True. From the beginning Edward hadn’t believed Mezareau was dead. But would Edward be able to figure out how to kill a wereleopard, then come back here in time to do so? As the day waned toward dusk, I had my doubts.
Looked like I was on my own. But that was nothing new.
I cleaned up the coffee, tossed the beignets, once my favorite food. The scent of fried dough and sugar now turned my stomach. Pretty much everything did. Would I soon be able to eat nothing but raw meat?
I’d never cared for it.
I got so bored, I began to sweep up glass and put my shop to rights. Mezareau spent his time paging through my library. I’d accumulated a lot of supernatural texts even before I’d begun to work for Edward.
I’d always been interested in the bizarre. How else would I have come up with the idea of becoming a voodoo priestess?
Night fell; the moon rose. I was compelled to enter my courtyard and stare at the nearly perfect orb.
“Sometimes I swear it sings to me.”
Mezareau had followed me out. He’d followed me everywhere today. I’d had to put my foot down at letting him follow me into the bathroom.
“Where’s your friend?” Mezareau asked.
I’d started to believe that Murphy wasn’t coming. What would Mezareau do once he figured it out? Tear apart the city, the county, the country, as he’d torn apart my shop?
“I’m right here.”
I turned, and there he was in the doorway. Murphy had come back for me.
My stomach fluttered. He was risking his life and his future. No one had ever done anything like that for me before. What did it mean?
I glanced at Mezareau and my stomach stopped fluttering. What did it matter?
“Where’s the diamond?” he demanded.
“Safe.”
I thought I was far enough away to avoid getting a knife to my throat again, but I was still unfamiliar with the speed at which Mezareau could move. The blade burned my neck before I knew it was coming.
“I’m through fucking around,” Mezareau snarled.
“OK, OK.” Murphy removed the stone from his pocket. “Put the knife down, and I’ll do the same with the diamond.”
The sharp edge lifted just a little.
“As soon as he does, Cassandra, get over here,” Murphy ordered.
The burn returned, and I hissed in pain.
“You want this or not?” Murphy snapped.
“You seem under the impression that you are in charge here. I could kill you with ease, Murphy.”
“Not as easily as you think.”
“Let’s find out.” Mezareau shoved me, and I stumbled on the uneven garden path, then fell.
When I glanced up, Mezareau had lifted his face and his hands to the moon. The silver glow streamed over him like a spotlight, and the edges of his silhouette shimmered, shifted, went indistinct.
The sheen from above seemed to shoot into his body, so bright I had to blink. When my eyes opened, a leopard stood where the bokor had been.
The beast appeared larger than the average leopard—not that I’d seen any except in the zoo. However, I didn’t think they ran to six feet, plus a tail, or weighed near 170 pounds.
His coat was shiny, tawny, spotted—I could see why leopards had once been poached almost to extinction. I wouldn’t mind wearing one of those on my back. Right now I’d kind of like to wear him —then he wouldn’t be staring at Murphy out of hungry emerald green eyes.
Of all the things that might bother me about this leopard, the eyes bothered me the most, because just like werewolves’ eyes, wereleopards’ eyes were human.
The growl that rumbled from his throat sounded really pissed off. Murphy didn’t appear scared. He was too busy staring at the beast with his mouth hanging open. I guess he believed in wereleopards now.
“Get inside!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet.
He didn’t listen, didn’t even glance my way, before he stepped into the courtyard and circled the leopard as the leopard circled him.
I looked for a weapon, spied the knife, thought better of it. Me with a knife, Mezareau with his teeth and claws, it wouldn’t be pretty.
Instead I glanced at the moon and knew what I had to do. Quickly I lifted my face, my hands, hoping, praying, my magic would be enough.
Silver spilled down my body like a waterfall. I’d thought the moon would be cool; instead it was fiery hot, racing through my blood, bubbling beneath the surface, pushing me toward a change.
I waited for the pain—a crunching of bone, the shifting of skin, the sprouting from nowhere of fur, snout, and tail. Instead, fireflies of light sparkled all around me—a hundred thousand Tinkerbells. I swayed, closed my eyes, and when I opened them I was shorter.
Probably had something to do with the paws.
Mezareau crouched, ready to spring, and I launched myself at him. He ducked, and I flew over his back, skidding in the damp grass, slamming headfirst into a fountain. I wasn’t used to this body yet, but Mezareau was.
I shook off the dizziness, no time for that, spinning just as the leopard launched himself into the air. They were too close to each other, too far away from me. I’d never reach them in time.