Crone held knife. Fire crackled near, smoke rising high, herbed and bitter. Night was cold with winter, trees bare like bones. A girl lay before old woman, bound, gagged, arms over head, tied to stakes at hands and feet, stinking with terror. Eyes blue in firelight. Blond hair. Girl wasn’t human. Smelled of new thing. Learned later, scent of vampire girl, I thought.

Crone leaned in. Movement made liver-eater scent rise rank on air, rotten meat. She nicked girl with blade, a stabbing cut, pointed, deep. Girl screamed behind gag, face bleeding. Crone gathered blood on finger, carried it to mouth. Sucked it. Made another cut, another. Tasting each. Crone cut girl’s clothes with knife, exposing belly and breasts. Girl squirmed, but stakes and ropes held her. Girl vomited. Unable to release it, she breathed it down. Her breath sounded wet. Her bowels released old blood stench, rising with herbs in fire.

I eased closer to ledge, claws extended, gripping rock as if gripping flesh to shred. Crone raised knife. Brought it down into girl’s belly. Cutting. Bound girl screamed, keening sound, like kit in mortal danger, held in paws of male big cat, or under claws of rival female invading territory. Crone cut deep. Girl’s squeals bounced off rock walls below. I exposed killing teeth. Eyes on knife. Crone lifted out chunk of vampire girl’s liver. Steam rose from human-meat. Crone tasted raw flesh. Bit, tearing with teeth. Blood ran down chin, over clothes.

When meat was gone, crone reached into bloody hole. Cut more. More again. Still holding knife. Girl stopped screaming, stopped moving, yet her heart still beat. For a little time. Crone ate more. Kidney. Part of lung. Girl stopped breathing. Heart fell still. Crone reached into body cavity and pulled, tugged. Heart came free. Crone began to chant, eating heart.

I watched as energies gathered on crone, silver gray, full of sparkles. Power touched her. Fire that did not burn. Bones slid, twisted, flesh growing lighter. Hair growing pale, blond. She stole young girl. Took her form. Bad smell in air. Much later, understood it was scent of evil, I thought.

Anger erupted in my spirit, anger at evil I did not understand. I leaped, silent. Driving down liver-eater. Paws on back, killing teeth at neck. Biting. Breaking spine with snap of jaws. Flesh was rancid, oily, foul. Burning tongue. I spat. Turned body with swipe of paw. Ripped out throat. Spat foulness. Tore off head. Liver-eater was dead. I turned, padded into night.

Images faded. Memory was ended. Jane was silent. I placed paw on her head in joined mind. You are liver-eater, I thought, snarling. You ate me as crone ate girl.

No! She struggled. I shoved hard with paws, holding her down, claws in her spirit flesh.

I was stronger than blond vampire girl. Stronger than you. I did not die. I came into you. With you. Now we are both, I and Jane. Better than Jane alone. Better than me alone. We are strong. We are Beast. And now we are Big Cat. Very big.

She stopped struggling, fear shaking her spirit, thinking fast human-thoughts. You took mass from the minerals in the boulders. Her fear grew, skittering like squirrel claws. You performed the mass to mass, stone to stone, of complex magic. How did you do that? How much mass did you take?

I said, Found place in snake for bigger. Gene for much bigness. I took all mass I wanted. Jane fled, deep into joined spirits, hiding. I hissed, shook the last scummy water away. Pelt is thick and rich and deep. Claws are sharp and long. Hunt liver-eater. Kill another one. I padded into deeper shadows, mouth open, scent-searching for path of liver-eater. I am Big Cat. I will kill.

CHAPTER 23

Mass to mass, stone to stone

Moon was high when I padded into park land far behind Cherokee shaman’s house. Liver-eater’s scent was strong and hot, from upwind. It was running, sweat stinking with rot. Second scent floated on night wind—blood, fresh, potent with fear. Human. Liver-eater had hunted. Found man to drink and eat.

Deep in woods, on high ground surrounded by swamp, I found kill site. Paused. Studied clearing. Tent, latrine, shovel, lantern burning, guttering, latched cooler, string in trees, damp clothes hanging limp. Blood everywhere, slick, shiny in moonlight. Body parts, scattered. A homeless camp, she thought. A drifter.I crouched, silent, sniffing, watching. Liver-eater was gone. With slow hunter steps I walked into camp—hunched low, back paws into space when front paws rose, no sticks or leaves to crackle. Sniffed chewed leg. Old and scrawny. Sick human. Not good eating. I moved through camp, scenting. Liver-eater was rank, rotten when he came. Scent changed as he ate.

Jane shuddered at thought. I hacked laughter. Padded around tent. Man-torso chewed in half at spine. Upper half near swamp. Lower half in water, pelvis jutting into air. Small fish fed at torn flesh. Gator swam close, eyes above water, tail moving like snake. I hacked warning. Feed later. My place. Gator slowed, stopped, sank. I jogged to tent opening.

Man-head inside tent, resting on cot. Liver-eater didn’t eat face of this one. Hairy, scruffy. Pale blue eyes caught lantern light. Cheeks drooped, wrinkled.

I found path liver-eater took from woods. His scent changed again. I stopped. Pulled air over scent organ in mouth. Studying. Rot smell changing. Gone. Not liver-eater scent. Vampire scent. Vampire over all other scents. Scent change worried Jane.

Path reached blacktopped road. Truck headlights moved through trees, coming this way. I leaped into tree, crouched on wide limbs hanging over road. Dropped on pickup bed cover, denting weak metal. Liver-eater came this way, in vampire body. Moving fast. Air blasted hard, full of smells. Rich, strong scents.

He stole a car, she thought. Or left a car here, planning ahead. She urged, Look at signs. Truck turned onto Lafitte-Larose Parkway. Still south. Signs proclaimed BARATARIA. Barataria, she thought. That’s where property is being purchased by Arceneau Developments and by Anna, according to Rick’s paper-trail search. But why?

I sniffed with disdain. No sense to humans or vampires. Truck puttered along Jean Lafitte Boulevard, across Fisherman Boulevard bridge, down Privateer Boulevard, in Barataria. When truck turned on side street, I leaped onto low tree limb, into shadows. Dark. Good place to hide, hunt. Liver-eater’s changed scent was fading. When headlights gone, I dropped to ground. Stretched, mouth wide, yawning. Shaking pelt into place after fast-truck wind. Jogged down street, following scent. She looked at signs, to remember. PRIVATEER BOULEVARD.

Liver-eater-vampire scent grew strong at small man-den, buried in overhanging trees, hidden behind shrubs, flowers blooming all around. Brick walls, hard, smooth walks between bushes. Lights on inside, spilling out windows. Car was dead in yard, parked on loose shells, car and shells both white in night. Mercedes, she thought. I trotted up to it, its roaring heart silent, but still pinging with life. Liver-eater had just arrived, his new scent on door handle. Scent was mingled, faint-faint liver-eater-rot. Mostly . . . vampire.

She thought, A vampire turned a skinwalker and the transformation didn’t take properly.

Yesssss. And no. I dropped to ground.

She thought more. He didn’t take the drifter’s form; he called up another one from memory. He has to eat a lot of protein to retrieve a form he wants. And his original form, is it old? Decaying? He has to steal another human or vamp and become him?

Yes and no. Skinwalker and vampire. Together they are liver-eater.

Sorrow filled her heart. She grieved, as I grieve when a kit dies. Foolish to grieve, I thought at her. Not your kit. Not kit at all.

But my kind. And the only one I’ve ever seen, Jane thought.

Not your kind. Liver-eater. I spat in disgust, padding around house. Bayou water flowed close, silent, blacker than sky when moon is dead and gone. Loud crickets and frogs.

A car roared along road, headlights piercing. Privateer Boulevard, she said, trying to remember. Car slowed, turned down small street, slowed more, pulled into yard. I slunk through foliage, to front of house. Crouched in darkest shadow. New car parked beside liver-eater’s Mercedes. Its roaring heart stopped. Anna-human got out, talking to phone. She wore white dress, her feet on tall spikes. Easy prey.

“I’ll get his help,” she said to phone. Mayor’s voice growled, low, scratchy, words not clear. “Once we get Clan Pellissier’s backing on it,” Anna-human said, “we’ll have enough vamp clout to push the project through the council. And enough money to disappear.” More mayor growling. “Love you too.” She ran to house, rang bell. Her perfume was strong on air, overpowering blooming flowers. Inner wooden door opened, then screened door. “You have no idea how hard it was to get away from the hubby,” Anna-human said, lying.

“Come here,” man said. Voice strange, not familiar. He smelled of liver-eater’s vampire scent. Rot smell almost gone, even to my nose. Screened door banged closed. Wooden door was pushed to. But not closed. Light streamed out. I gathered feet in close to leap. Hunt!

No! she commanded. She tried to wrest away control.

Yessss. I am big. Big Cat tonight. Big to kill liver-eater.

Another car turned into small street. Into short drive. I hacked with displeasure. Car died. Rick got out. He had followed Anna-human. Trailed her. Hunted her. I crouched, tight.

Rick raced to front door. Looked in window. His body went still, like predator in shock at size of large prey. Pulled gun from beneath arm. “Anna!” Rick shouted. He tore screen open. It banged against brick with sharp retort. Like gunshot. I flinched. Rick dove inside.

Big-cat roar echoed into night. Not mine. Not Beast.

Rick shouted. Words lost beneath roar. Anna-human screamed. Loud thumps. Liver-eater and Rick shouting, wordless anger. Fighting. Anna opened door, scuttled into darkness. Stench of liver-eater rot erupted out door with her. And hot smell of much Rick-blood. Crack, crack, crack of gunshots. Window broke. Rick screamed, choked off. Go! Jane commanded.

I leaped through door in one massive lunge. Landed, silent, behind couch, wood floor beneath paws. Lips pulled back to expose killing teeth. Rank, rotten-meat stench filled air. Slurping sounds were loud, coarse. Rose up on couch, claws half exposed. Seeing room.

Overturned furniture, candles flickering. Rick on floor, lying in spreading pool of blood. Face up, eyes open, arms out to sides, legs splayed, shirt ripped open. Chest poured blood from deep gashes. Liver-eater stooped over him, hunched, face at Rick’s chest. Drinking.