Page 97 of Rapture's Edge (Night Prowler 3)
He stepped forward with a leer, two armed officers behind him, and every ugly, dark, wounded thing inside Eliana exploded to hideous life.
Shifting is an elemental thing.
Transforming matter—teeth to fangs, face to muzzle, legs to haunches—is a primal process that is acutely, fleetingly painful. It is real in a physical sense, but it is also a form of magic. And like all magic, it creates energy.
Energy that can be felt.
The moment the assassin Keshav felt the girl Shift to panther, he was leaning against the wall beside a vending machine in the hospital hallway, holding a cup of coffee to his lips. He and two of his team had stayed at the hospital, lurking in the background, prowling the halls, and the other two had staked out Gregor’s building. The assumption/hope that she would return to see her injured friend was all they had to go on because she’d disappeared completely once again.
He was just about to take a sip of his coffee when the first shockwave hit him. He crushed the Styrofoam cup in his hand, spraying hot coffee all over his face and chest.
A pulse of heat. A vibration. A release, like a spring coiled tight and then loosed, or a door blown open in a sudden wind. It was both shocking and exhilarating—she was so powerful it sent a surge of electricity crackling over his skin.
He looked up at the ceiling—sixth floor, northwest corner—and then bolted toward the elevators in a flat-out run.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
Gregor screamed it, upright and red-faced in bed, his hands held stiffly out toward the two officers who had drawn their guns and were pointing them at the surreal scene in front of him.
Agent Doe, flat against the wall, arms up, face contorted in a grimace of terror. The enormous black animal who had him pinned with heavy paws on his chest had its ears flattened, snout peeled back over glistening sharp fangs, and was snarling down at him.
And it was definitely down. On her hind legs, in panther form, Eliana towered above him like Goliath to a one-eyed, whimpering David.
The officers were shouting something, too, screaming in French for her to stand down while Gregor was screaming in English and French and every other language he knew for them to hold their fire.
With the screaming and the television and the vicious snarl of the panther, no one heard the door open until it was too late.
Whump. Whump. Both officers jerked, then silently crumpled to the floor. A man in a tailored black suit stepped forward over their bodies, holding a sleek black gun in front of him, fitted with a long, cylindrical silencer.
“Shift back or die,” he said very quietly to the snarling panther. “Choose. Now.”
The panther hissed savagely, digging its claws into Doe’s white shirt. Eight pinpoints of blood appeared, flowering out from where the tips of razor-sharp claws pressed through fabric into skin, and Doe let out a pitiful, choked sob.
Gregor whispered, “Eliana.”
The man with the gun put his finger on the trigger.
Then the panther shimmered, losing shape, and turned to mist. Floating and ethereal, ruffling in a pale gray plume in the air, the cloud of Vapor hung there a moment too long for the man with the gun.
His face never losing its cold concentration, the tone of his voice still so quiet and controlled, he pointed the weapon at Gregor and said, “Choose again.”
Gregor’s heart screeched to a stop.
This time there was no hesitation. The cloud of Vapor coalesced, contracting on itself, gathering and thickening
until it took shape as the form of Eliana, completely nude. Voice throbbing, she said, “Don’t hurt him,” and stepped around the bed, her hands held up in surrender. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”
The assassin’s cold gaze flickered over her. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Still with the weapon pointed at Gregor, he took something out of his coat pocket that glinted metallic silver. He held it out. “Put it on.”
With shaking hands, Eliana reached out and took it, held it up. With the musical chink of metal sliding on metal, it spun in the light for a moment, twisting from her fingers.
“Around your neck,” the assassin instructed with a jerk of his chin. Eliana complied, then folded her arms over her bare chest and stood before him with her chin up, waiting.
Behind her, against the wall, a paralyzed Agent Doe lost his battle with gravity and slid silently to his knees.
The assassin shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants, removed his coat jacket, thrust it at Eliana, and motioned for her to put it on. To Gregor he sent a glance that said, Move and you’re dead.
When Eliana was covered, the assassin said, “The collar will prevent you from Shifting. Any attempt to escape and we’ll kill him, and you. Understood?”
