Page 33 of Panther in the Shadows
"I'm sorry about that."
"I'm not."
The words hang between us, weighted with meanings I shouldn't be considering.
Movement below freezes both of us.
A figure appears at the edge of the cove. Male. Young. Maybe twenty-five. He walks with strange jerky steps, like a puppet on invisible strings. Even from this distance, wrongness radiates from him.
"That's not right." Moira's whisper carries barely audible. "His movements. The way he's walking. That's not normal."
I grab the binoculars, focusing on the man's face. His eyes glow with sickly green light. Necromantic power. But the expression on his face suggests he's not in control. Terror mingles with the unnatural luminescence. He's fighting something invisible, losing.
"He's being controlled." The binoculars lower. "Walking himself to his death because someone's pulling the strings."
"The summoner. They're making him the fifth victim." Moira's already moving, scrambling down from our hiding spot. "We have to stop him. Save him before he reaches the convergence point."
My hand catches her wrist. "Wait. Look at the water."
She freezes, following my gaze. The waves have changed. Moving in patterns that defy natural physics. Circling the convergence point like predators waiting to strike. And beneath the surface, shadows move. Too many. Too large.
"They're here." Her voice drops to barely audible. "Not just controlling him from distance. The summoner is here. Watching."
"Where?"
She points to the cliff face opposite our position. A darker shadow among the rocks. Could be nothing. Could be everything.
"If we go down there, we're exposed. Vulnerable." My panther senses scream warning. "This could be the trap."
"It's already a trap. For him." She pulls free from my grip. "We can't just watch him die."
She's right. Damn her, she's right.
"Then we do this smart. I go left, draw attention. You go right, stay in the shadows. Get to him first, start breaking the binding. I'll handle whatever comes." I meet her eyes. "And if this goes wrong, you run. No arguments. No hesitation. You get out."
"Rafe—"
"Promise me."
The pause stretches too long. Then she nods once. A lie we both recognize but pretend to believe.
We hit the beach running. The man's twenty yards from the waterline. Fifteen. Ten. Moving with mechanical precision toward the exact spot where Moira's magic reads the strongest convergence.
"Stop!" My voice carries authority honed by years of making people obey or die. "Don't go in the water!"
The man's head turns toward us. Terror floods his glowing eyes. His mouth opens but no sound emerges. Whatever controls him won't let him speak. Won't let him stop. His feet keep moving forward despite obvious resistance.
The shadows in the water surge toward shore.
"Moira, incoming!"
Dark shapes break the surface. Not fully formed. Not quite solid. Somewhere between corpse and nightmare, animated by necromantic power that makes my skin crawl.
Moira reaches the man first, hands landing on his shoulders. Sea witch power floods through her touch. I feel it like static electricity raising the hair on my arms. She's trying to break the control. Cut the strings pulling him toward death.
The corpse-things lunge from the water.
I intercept the first one mid-leap. My fist connects with what should be a skull but feels like wet leather over ice. The impact sends it spinning backward into the surf. But it doesn't stay down. Just rises again, movements jerky and wrong.
