And with that acknowledgment, the truth I’d been hiding from for months faced me square on. No matter how much I’d tried to avoid my fate, I knew I had to face—and embrace—the person I was becoming.

Delilah, the Death Maiden. Delilah, obliterator of souls. Delilah, harvest woman of the dead.

My blade sent a bolt of energy reeling through my hand, and her gentle laughter rang in my ears. “Your father chose well to give me to you. Wake me, Delilah. I will help you walk through the darkness. I will teach you how to grow strong and keep your soul intact when all around you is madness.”

Destiny in action. Fate on the move. “How do I wake you up?” I asked. “And why have you never spoken to me before?”

Lysanthra’s breath tingled through my elbow, through my shoulder, into my heart. “Only when I’m wielded by one who loves with the depth of her soul, and who fights to protect the one she loves, will I speak. You have been close to summoning me before, but today—today you fight with the desire to die rather than see the one you love destroyed.”

Chase. It had to be Chase. I was in love with Chase. Despite the passion I felt for Zachary and the betrayal from Chase’s lies, I still loved him. Fool? Maybe. But sometimes our hearts don’t play the logic game. Sometimes the Hags of Fate like to see us squirm.

“Tell me what to do.”

Lysanthra’s voice was so delicate she might have been the tinkle of wind chimes, the delicate call of a night-roaming bird to her mate. “Say my name three times aloud. And then I am yours. But you will not be able to kill this creature using me. For that, you must use your own powers.”

I raised the blade. The Scytatian waited, silent and brooding. Karvanak looked impatient but didn’t seem in a rush to hurry things along. Smart move. The Scytatian could make mincemeat out of him in three seconds flat.

“Lysanthra, Lysanthra, Lysanthra!” I called out, raising the blade. A shaft of light burst from the tip, and I flushed, new strength flowing into my veins. Lysanthra fell silent, but I knew we were bound together.

Camille kept quiet, her gaze fixated first on my blade, then on my face. When Menolly started to speak, Camille shushed her and smiled gravely at me.

I turned back to the Scytatian and Karvanak. “You—demon scum. You’re so sure of yourself, so get your ass over here and fight. The Scytatian’s got your back. What are you waiting for?”

Karvanak let out a low snarl, then he shimmered, and his head took the form of a tiger, claws ripped from his nails, and he stepped forward.

At that moment, the sound of a freight train came whistling down the steps, and a blur of white and silver crashed into the room, knocking over the Rāksasa as the whirlwind whipped down the stairs. Straight out of the Ionyc Sea, Smoky landed in a crouch and rolled to straddle the demon.

Smoky promptly began to beat the crap out of Karvanak, but the Rāksasa was strong. He managed to get a hand free and clawed at Smoky, gashing the dragon across the face.

“Don’t you hurt him!” Camille leapt forward, yanking out the unicorn horn. She’d used it once in the past few days. How much power did it have left?

My question was answered as a shaft of ice burst forth, like a frozen bolt of lightning, zigzagging out of the tip of the horn. The ice bolt struck Karvanak directly on the head between his ears, distracting the demon long enough for Vanzir and Menolly to dive in and help out.

Karvanak roared, lunging at Vanzir. He knocked the dream chaser down and stepped over him to get to Zachary, who was trying to protect Chase. With one hand, he backhanded Zach and sent him flying against a wall, then turned to Chase, who was still in shock.

Menolly raced across the room, but Zach was faster. He scrambled to his feet and, head down, charged directly into the center of Karvanak’s stomach, driving him back. He was able to hold him off long enough for Menolly to grab Chase and pull him out of the way.

Karvanak growled and whirled, his foot squarely landing against Zach’s lower back, sending him to the floor. Smoky dove in, but then my attention wavered as I noticed the Scytatian bearing down on me.

I had no doubt it intended to kill everyone in this room. Once we were all toast, if Karvanak was still alive, my guess would be that he’d find himself next on the menu. Summoning spirits—even for a demon—never worked out quite the way it was planned.

I sheathed Lysanthra and focused on the swirling energy that pulsated a staccato throbbing beneath my tattoo.

“Hi’ran,” I whispered. “Help me. I need you. I need your power. I need your strength.”

A faint laugh, carried on the wind along with bonfire flames and graveyard dust drifted by. “I’m sending you help. Let go and change. Only you can kill this creature. Your sisters will die if you don’t.”

And so I unleashed Panther. Hands to paw, spine lengthening, ears pointing, teeth growing long and sharp, fur coating my palms, coating my legs, coating arms and face and back . . . the world was bathed in gray scale as scents grew stronger, urges grew more difficult to control.

As the transformation fully took hold, I let myself flow into the opulent energy that imbued my Panther self. I sucked in a deep breath as mist rose around me, and I found myself facing the Scytatian. Everyone else had vanished, and once again, I was fighting alone, on the astral.

The creature had been cloaked in shadow—difficult to get a bead on when I’d been in my bipedal form—but now I could see him clearly for what he was: an avatar of Death. The shadows were gone, and he stood there in brilliant white, shining like magma working its way up to the surface of the world.

The Scytatian shone so brilliantly, he was difficult to look at, but my third eyelid shaded my eyes from harm, and I slowly moved forward. If I’d been a regular Were, my claws would not touch him, my teeth would bounce off. But with the energy of the Autumn Lord behind me, I had the power to defeat the being from the Netherworld.

I crouched as the Scytatian approached. One . . . let it get close enough . . . two . . . wriggle into just the right position and then—pounce! I grappled him with my front paws. For a fraction of a second, I felt my essence being coaxed out of my body as he sucked me into his energy field, but then I yanked myself back. He stumbled, just the briefest moment, but enough to tell me he hadn’t expected my strength.

And then we were wrestling. He took me down, his strength phenomenal. It was all I could do to keep him from squeezing me to death. If he got his arms around my neck, I’d be screwed for sure. I leaned my head back and drove my fangs deep into his shoulder as we rolled along the floor.

And then I made a mistake. I let go of him to try for a better grip.

He chose that moment to flip me over so he was beneath me, one arm around my belly, the other around my neck. My paws pointing toward the ceiling, I scrabbled but couldn’t free myself. He began to tighten his grip around my neck, his arm shutting off my windpipe. I squirmed but couldn’t get loose, and I didn’t dare transform, or he’d snap my neck like a toothpick. My tongue lolling out, I began to lose consciousness.

As the mist began to grow gray, I thought I heard a low growl from somewhere in the distance. I couldn’t see—everything was going black—but I prepared to give up the fight. My sisters were depending on me, but I wasn’t strong enough. I’d let them down. Menolly might escape, and Smoky and Rozurial, but this creature would finish the rest of them off, even Vanzir.

I began to spiral out of my body. Would I go directly to Hi’ran’s side? Or would I have the chance to see my ancestors first? I’d like to see Mother, at least once, before I passing into the realm of the Autumn Lord.

Youch!

Something bit my tail. Hard. Hard enough to suck me back into my body. I opened my eyes, aware that the Scytatian had loosened his grip and I could breathe again. The next moment, he let go, and I sprang away as he leapt to his feet. Energy crackled around him as he began to summon something nasty.

I glanced around to see what the hell had saved me, and to my surprise, I saw a leopard standing there. As spotted as I was black and with a piece of material hanging out of her mouth, she—I could smell she was female—blinked at me, then let out a low growl. She seemed terribly familiar. Yet whoever she was, she was dead on the physical realm. But here, she was lean and strong and—holy hell, most important, she could affect the Scytatian! The rag in her mouth was from the edge of the Scytatian’s robe.

Just then, the Scytatian let loose with a bolt of energy, and I recognized the feel of it. Death magic. It wouldn’t affect my ghost-leopard friend, but it could affect me. I managed to dodge out of the way, and it hit directly where I’d been standing.

As I leapt to safety, the leopard gathered herself and charged toward the Scytatian. The creature from the Netherworld jumped to the side as I shook out the kinks. The leopard was going after him again, so I took the other side, and as the Scytatian lightly moved out of her way, I lunged behind him. The back of his legs met my body, and he went sprawling, crashing to the ground.

Ghost leopard dug her teeth into one arm, and I leapt on his chest. My paws holding him down, I stared down into the glowing white face. So beautiful, so brilliant I could barely discern his features. And then I went for the neck and bit deep. Ghost leopard raked at his gut, her spotted paw tickling my belly as she reached beneath me to get at the creature.

The Scytatian twisted, shrieking, and I tightened my grip on his throat, feeling his energy drain like air out of a leaking balloon. And then—just like that—he was gone. Vanished. Poof.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the ground where he’d lain prone. The ghost leopard wandered over to me and nuzzled me gently on the neck, then stepped back. I looked into her eyes. She was familiar, but I knew I’d never seen her before.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She let out a little growl. “You wouldn’t recognize me, I suppose, though I’ve been watching you all of your life. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I think. You’ve been watching me all of my life?” I cocked my head to the side, the feel of my muscled body solid and comforting. I felt almost invulnerable when Panther came out to play, although I knew I wasn’t.

She gazed at me, her eyes glowing. They were the same emerald as mine. And then I saw a glimmer of light surround her, and a flutter of golden hair, and she began to vanish. I raced forward, suddenly understanding.

“Wait, don’t go! Come back!” As I loped over to where she’d been standing, I heard one last message from her.

“I’ll always be here, Sister. I’ll always watch over you.”

And then she was gone. I stared at the empty spot as the scent of bonfire descended around me again, and then I closed my eyes and slid into unconsciousness.

When I came to, I was back in my usual form, with Camille patting my face. “Delilah, Delilah? Are you okay?”

I blinked against the sharp light that was filling the room and let her help me sit up. Where the hell was I? As I glanced around, I realized that we were in the FH-CSI medical offices, and I was sitting on a table.

“How long have I been out?” I asked, wincing. My head hurt like hell.

“About an hour. You hit your head on a pipe when you fell, but Sharah says you should be okay. How do you feel?” She pulled over a wheelchair and forced me into it. “No walking about until we know that you don’t have a concussion.”

“Chase—how’s Chase? And Karvanak—” Panic took hold as I suddenly remembered how I’d gotten here. I tried to stand, but a whirl of dizziness forced me back into my seat. I must have really bonked my head, that was for sure.

As Camille pushed me into the hallway, images began to flood my mind. Karvanak. Chase. And—my sister. The ghost leopard. So it was true, I had a twin sister, and she died. As I tried to digest the knowledge, Camille guided me through a set of double doors. She pushed me through into a large room that held three beds and several chairs. We were in one of the recuperation wards.

Chase was there, sleeping in one bed. And on the bizarre side, Menolly was standing by his bed, holding his hand.

Zachary was in another bed, looking a lot like a mummy, wrapped in bandages. Smoky sat on a chair, and for the first time since we’d met him, he looked tired. Vanzir was there, too, sporting more bandages than I could count, and his arm was wrapped in a splint. Everybody looked covered in bruises, including Camille.

Morio and Sharah entered the room.

“Chase, Zach—how are they doing? Is Karvanak dead?” I motioned for Camille to wheel me over to Chase’s side. Menolly stepped away, giving me a soft smile which—for her—translated into a yeehaw.

“Chase will be all right, though there’s no way to ever reattach the finger,” Sharah said. “It’s his mind I’m more worried about. They roughed him up. I can recognize the signs of torture, including those that don’t leave marks. He’s been through hell. I’ve sedated him. Rest is vital to the healing process.”

I stared down at my sleeping detective, wondering how we would weather this hell. How would he fight these new demons come to haunt him?

“And Zach?” I said softly.

She shrugged. “He’ll recover, too, but it’s going to take a long time for his back to heal. If Karvanak had kicked him any harder, he would have broken Zach’s spine and left him paralyzed. As it is, he’s got a broken tailbone, two fractured vertebrae, a broken hip, broken leg, fractured wrist, and he’s taken a lot of soft tissue damage. I’m guessing he won’t be walking on his own for at least six months, and he might always have a limp. It’s too soon to tell.”

“He was hurt saving Chase’s life,” Menolly said. “He threw himself between Chase and Karvanak.”