Page 59 of Panther in the Shadows
Moira's sharp intake of breath doesn't surprise me. What surprises me is that she doesn't pull away. Doesn't flinch. Just watches me with eyes that see too much.
"Self-defense," she says.
"Doesn't matter what it was. Only what it looked like." The bitterness surprises me. I thought I'd buried this years ago, let the salt water wash it clean. "Catalina screamed murder. Said I'd always been jealous of Diego, that I killed him to eliminate a rival for the territories. Our father believed her. The clan elders believed her. They exiled me within three days."
Moira moves to the far wall, candlelight catches in her hair, turns it copper and flame. "And Catalina?"
"The scandal destroyed her family. No one would marry her after that. Her parents sent her to a nunnery in the mountains outside Málaga. Strict. Brutal. The kind of place that breaks spirits." I meet her eyes. "Six months later, I heard she'd thrown herself off the cliffs into the Mediterranean. That they found her dress on the rocks but never recovered a body."
"Because she didn't die." Moira's voice carries absolute certainty. "Or she died and made a bargain."
She turns away from me, pacing the small space, her fingers tracing patterns on the stone wall as she thinks.
"Power over water. Death magic. The ability to raise corpses and bind them." She turns back, and her face is grim. "Gran called them sea-walkers. Something between life and death, more creature than woman. But there's a cost. They lose their humanity slowly. Become more darkness than flesh. And they hunger for revenge against whatever drove them to drown."
The pieces come together with sickening clarity. Catalina threw herself into the Mediterranean seven years ago. Became something else down in the dark. And then she traveled. Through ocean currents. Through underwater channels no human could navigate. Searching.
"She was looking for me." The words taste like ash. "Traveled through the ocean for years. Found Stormhaven. Found you."
"And discovered Elspeth's death." Moira's hands clench into fists hard enough that her knuckles go white. "My sister drowned thirteen years ago. Catalina's been dead for seven. She must have felt it when she went into the water. The death. The potential. A drowned girl with sea witch blood, ripe for necromancy."
"Your sister became a weapon aimed at both of us." The weight in my chest threatens to crush me. "If I hadn't come here, if I hadn't built my territory on this island?—"
Moira spins on me. Fury blazes in her eyes, and power ripples through the air. The candles flicker. "Don't you dare." Her voice carries power that tastes of salt and storm. "Don't you dare take responsibility for her choices. For her revenge. For her cruelty."
She crosses to me in three strides, her hands framing my face, forcing me to meet her eyes.
"If you hadn't come here, she would have found another way. Another target. Another weapon. This is her madness, Rafe. Her darkness. Not yours."
"I should have made sure she was dead." The confession tears out of me. "I should have gone back to Spain, verified the body, done something. But I was angry. Bitter. I wanted to forget she ever existed."
"You were twenty-five and grieving." Moira's thumb brushes my cheek, the touch gentle despite the steel in her voice. "You were exiled for defending yourself. You have nothing to apologize for."
But I do. Because Moira's sister has been raised from the dead because of my past. Because Elspeth is walking around wearing her own corpse like a grotesque puppet. Because Catalina is out there right now, planning something that involves death magic and revenge and Moira's destruction.
"Did you love her?" The question comes soft, barely audible. But I hear the weight beneath it. The fear. The need to know if this ghost can compete with whatever's building between us.
I force myself to be honest. To give Moira the truth even if it costs me everything.
"No. I never loved her. It was political. An arrangement." I catch her hands, hold them against my face. "I thought maybe Icould learn to love her eventually. That's what you tell yourself in those situations. But it was duty. Obligation. She was beautiful. Ambitious. Clever. But I never really knew her. Never saw past the mask she wore."
"And now?" Her voice trembles.
"Now I know the difference." I turn my head, press a kiss to her palm. "What I feel for you is nothing like that. With Catalina, everything was calculated. Measured. Safe. With you..." The words stick in my throat. I've never been good at this. At honesty. At vulnerability. "With you, it's real."
Tears shine in her eyes, but she's smiling. That small, fierce smile. My panther purrs, and my heart forgets its rhythm.
"Real," she echoes softly.
I kiss her then. Can't not kiss her. Her magic crackles against mine, ocean meeting shadow, and for a moment the world narrows to just this. Just us. No dead fiancées turned sea-walkers. No risen sisters. No revenge plots years in the making. Just Moira's warmth against me, her hands fisted in my shirt, her breath mingling with mine.
She breaks the kiss first, breathing hard. "How long do we have?"
Right. The ritual. The deaths. Nearly complete. Another sacrifice to be made in order to accomplish whatever dark magic Catalina's been building.
"Old Tom," I say grimly. "He's the next sacrifice."
"No." Moira's voice is iron and salt water. "We stop her before she can kill him."
