Page 53 of Panther in the Shadows
"Moira—"
"Another victim. Another piece of the pattern." I meet his eyes. "If I see the site, I might understand how she's choosing locations."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Stay close. Don't touch anything. And if I say we leave, we leave immediately."
"Agreed."
The ruins of the old cannery crouch at the harbor's edge, abandoned for decades. Rusted equipment juts from crumbling concrete. Brine and decay hang thick in the air, mixing with something else. Something that makes my magic recoil before we even leave the car.
Tainted death magic. Stronger than before.
Declan waits near shipping containers, his wolf barely contained. Jax stands beside him, tension radiating from both.
"Vega. Moira." Declan's greeting comes clipped. "Warning you now. It's bad."
"Show me."
The body lies sprawled near a tidal pool. A woman, maybe forty, arms spread wide. Her skin carries the same gray tinge as Marco's, the symbols carved into her chest glowing faintly. Active magic. Still working.
My stomach lurches. "Brigid."
Declan's jaw tightens. We all know her. The artist who sells landscape paintings at the summer market. Who always has paint under her fingernails and a smile for everyone.
"Disappeared three days ago from her studio," Jax says quietly.
Three days. The necromancer kept her alive for three days before killing her here.
"The symbols are different." Rafe crouches beside the body, careful not to touch. "More complex than Marco's."
He's right. The pattern carved into her flesh forms an intricate web, each line connecting to the next in a design that makes my eyes ache. Dark magic pulses through the markings, visible only to those with the sight.
"It's a binding circle. Gran's grimoire had warnings." I force myself to focus. "She's not just dead. She's being prepared. Held in stasis between life and death until the ritual completes."
If Brigid is being held in this state now, then Elspeth might have been trapped like this. Aware. Suffering. Waiting.
"Moira." Rafe's voice cuts through the spiral.
I force myself to focus. To think like a sea witch instead of a guilty sister. "This is what happened to Elspeth. What's happening to all of them. Multiple victims bound and waiting for the ritual to complete so they can all rise together."
Multiple victims. Families destroyed. All for some necromancer's twisted ambition to raise an army of the drowned.
"We need to move her." Declan's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Get her somewhere secure before the binding activates fully."
"Don't. Gran's grimoire warned about disrupting binding spells. We could make it worse." I force the words steady. "We need to leave her exactly where she is. Mark the location. But don't touch the body or the symbols."
Declan's jaw tightens, but he nods. "I'll post guards. Make sure no one disturbs the site."
We leave Brigid's body in the shadow of the ruins. Leave her waiting for a resurrection she never asked for. The wrongness of it burns in my chest.
The drive back happens in silence. Rafe's hands grip the steering wheel too tight. The muscle in his jaw jumps. That calculating look means he's already planning our next move.
The ritual is almost complete. The necromancer is running out of time, which means she'll strike soon. Someone I care about. Someone Rafe cares about. That's what she promised through Marco's dying words.
"We'll stop her." Rafe's voice breaks through the spiral. "Tonight. Before she can take anyone else."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise I'll die trying."
