Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“Then why didn’t she tear out your heart before now?”

“She needed more power. I might not be strong enough to end her, but I had enough juice to keep her from ending me—until today anyway.”

“Then why are you still alive?”

Realization spread over his battered face. “I’m the bait. You’ve got to go before she comes back.”

“Like hell.” I set to work picking at the knotted rope around his ankles.

“She read your great-grandmother’s papers. She knows that the only way to kill her is for a sorcerer of greater power to see her in raven form.”

“I thought it was great power, and it didn’t work. You couldn’t see her, even with your eagle eyes.”

“The writing’s faded. The word was ‘greater,’ not ‘great.’ “

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“I couldn’t see her because my power is from the eagle—a great war bird, but a bird just the same. I’m of equal power.”

“Still not getting how I can help.”

“You’re a panther, Grace. Much greater power than a raven.”

“I’m not a panther.”

“You could be. Remember what you told me about your great-grandmother and the bear? She could access the panther.”

“Just because she could doesn’t mean I can. I don’t know anything about that.”

“She left the spell in her papers. All you have to do is believe.”

I snorted.

“And say the words.”

“I have a better idea.” The ropes fell away from his ankles. “Let’s get out of here.”

I reached for the ties that bound his hands, and lightning flashed overhead so brightly I could still see it when I closed my eyes. The thunder that followed shook the mountain. When it faded, another sound drifted in on the wind. The caw of a raven, the beat of supernatural wings.

“Forget the hands. You can run without them.” I yanked him to his feet, but when I headed for the door, he didn’t follow. “Ian, let’s go.”

He stared at the hole in the roof, head tilted, listening. “It’s too late, even if I’d planned to run,” he lowered his gaze to mine, “which I didn’t. I came to kill this witch, and I’m not leaving until she’s dead.”

“You came because she dragged you here and beat you bloody. And if we stay she’s going to send us to the Darkening Land, then feast on the rest of my town.”

“Not if you do what I say.”

My heart pounded so loudly I couldn’t hear the beat of approaching wings anymore, but I felt the Raven Mocker riding in on the storm.

I kept picking at the knots holding Ian’s hands together. “What do I do?”

“The spell’s simple. Words and belief. I’ll say the Cherokee; you repeat.”

“I won’t understand what I’m saying.” I gave an impatient tug on the rope, and it fell away.

“What we’ll be saying is this: ‘I feel the power of my past. I walk the path of my people. Give me the knowledge, the strength, the magic of the panther.’ Got it?”

I nodded, then flinched as the horrible shrieking commenced from above.