Page 82 of Edge of Oblivion (Night Prowler 2)
A large red banner across the top of the television screen read, “Rare melanistic panthers captured in vicious attack.”
Xander’s blood turned to ice.
And then came the grainy video captured by an eyewitness. Motion and chaos, wobbly images of a panicked crowd shoving and screaming, the impossible sight of six huge, snarling black panthers attacking one another on a dance floor. A shot rang out, then another, then one of the animals collapsed, three of them bolted, and the other two turned on the officer who’d fired and began to rip him to shreds. A solemn male voice spoke over the video.
“As you can see from this disturbing video, these animals are highly aggressive and dangerous.
Wildlife experts tell us these particular animals have been living in open areas and feeding on large prey and may have even been somehow genetically enhanced, evidenced by their enormous size in comparison with the norm for the species. Like the other panthers that have been captured and killed over the past several years in this area, these nocturnal predators are so large it is unlikely a novice wildlife enthusiast was able to raise these big cats unnoticed in the middle of an urban area.
“Several members of the European Union’s Wildlife Preservation Fund, including the preeminent evolutionary biologist Dr. Hermann Parnassus, are expected to arrive in Rome tomorrow to provide expert opinion and conduct testing on the animals. The authorities are urging citizens who live nearby to stay indoors until the other three panthers are captured, but even once they are the question will remain: From where did these extraordinary creatures come?”
Downstairs in the bedroom where he’d left Morgan, Xander’s cell phone began to ring.
“Shit,” he breathed, frozen with disbelief. Bartleby lowered the volume on the television while the screen switched to scenes of the hospital where the police officer was being treated, the facility where the animals were being held. He noted the address.
“It’s them, isn’t it?” Bartleby asked, glum. “Mateo and Tomás and Julian?”
Xander nodded, listening to his phone ring and ring. To his ears, the innocent sound was as ominous as a volley of gunfire. It had to be Leander. If the Assembly had seen this, they would use it as evidence of guilt. Such flagrant violations—Shifting in public, allowing it to be filmed, being captured by humans—would undoubtedly trigger three executions. If, that is, Mateo, Tomás, and Julian made it out of captivity.
Which they would. He would ensure that much. But he wasn’t going to save them so they could then be executed, that was for sure. So he was going to save them and then...help them disappear.
It wasn’t even a choice. It had to be done. And quickly.
“If they’re being held it means they’re hurt, which means they can’t Shift,” Xander said, his voice shaking. Adrenaline coursed through his veins; he wasn’t sure if he could Shift either, wasn’t sure if his stomach wound had entirely healed. He’d be going in blind. “Which means it’s going to be tricky getting them out. We’ll have to find a way in, use subterfuge, find a way to distract—”
“We don’t need subterfuge,” Bartleby said, blinking at him from behind his spectacles. “We’ll be able to just walk right in.”
Xander raised his eyebrows.
“My dear boy, I’m a doctor, remember? And a specialist with these particular...beasts.” He patted the tufted clouds of his white hair, adjusted his bow tie, and sent him a wry smile. “Also I’m extremely handsome. And charming. I can talk the birds right out of the trees. Whoever is holding our boys simply won’t be able to resist me.” His smile grew wider. “Especially when presented with official documentation.”
Though Xander’s body was still frozen with disbelief, his mind broke through the thaw and snatched at Bartleby’s genius plan. “Dr. Hermann Parnassus.”
Bartleby executed a bow, managing to make it look both elegant and mocking. “At your service, sir.”
Downstairs, his cell phone began to ring again. “How long do you need?”
Bartleby shrugged. “About twenty minutes. After all these years with you boys, I’ve become something of an expert on faking identities.”
The ringing stopped. He heard a chime, indicating a new voicemail. “Make it ten,” said Xander, and sprinted away, heading for the stairs.
The fog obscured almost everything and muffled all the sounds of the forest in its cool, clinging gray swirls. Eddies of it pooled around Morgan’s feet as she walked over perfumed beds of leaves and bracken, searching for him, calling out his name, her voice nearly soundless in the endless mist.
She heard laughter nearby and stumbled toward it, catching her foot on the twisted root of an ancient, towering pine. She fell into a soft bed of dry needles and struggled to get up, but the needles had turned to quicksand, sucking her down, clinging to her skin, pulling, relentlessly pulling.
“Xander!” Morgan cried out helplessly, digging her fingers into the soft sand. She sank chest-
deep and craned her neck, desperately searching the dark forest for him. The clawed boughs of trees loomed close and black overhead. “Xander, help me!”
And then there he was, walking slowly through the forest toward her in a ray of light, smiling, heart-stoppingly beautiful, a black-clad angel with swords sheathed on his back.
“Help me!” she gasped, the cold, wet sand sliding thick over her shoulders, her neck, her chin.
It slid between her lips and she spat it out, choking. “Xander!”
He stopped beside the pool of sand and gazed down at her, beatific, his brilliant golden eyes dazzling in the gloom. “You’re in too deep,” he murmured, calm as morning. “A thousand kisses deep.
Nothing can save you now.”
