Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Me,” Murphy said, and Edward threw the knife.
The old man never waited around for explanations. Which was probably why he was still alive.
Without Murphy, I didn’t want to be. I threw myself in front of him, shoving him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The knife stuck in my shoulder with a thunk.
“Ouch!” I turned to Edward, but he was glaring at Murphy, who was glaring at me.
“Dammit, Cassandra.” Murphy jumped to his feet. “You could have exploded.”
But I hadn’t. What the hell?
Without warning, Edward yanked the knife from my shoulder. I gasped at the pain but managed to grab his wrist as it descended toward Murphy.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Diana discovered that only a knife made of black diamonds could end the life of a wereleopard.”
Edward’s voice came in fits and starts as we continued to struggle for possession of the knife. I was no longer strong enough to take it from him, and I wasn’t sure why. I wouldn’t be able to hold Edward’s wrist away from Murphy much longer.
Murphy must have sensed this, because he plucked the knife, blade first, from Edward’s hand. “Black diamonds. Those must be pretty rare.”
“Extremely so in Africa, though more common in Brazil.” The old man scowled at him. “You are not a wereleopard at all.”
“No?” Murphy tossed the gory knife into the fountain.
“You touched the blade without burning.” Edward turned his frown on me. “And you did not explode.”
“No moss on you,” Murphy muttered, but Edward ignored him to glance around the courtyard. His gaze stopped when it reached the pile of ashes. “Mezareau?”
“Yes.”
He met my eyes. “You?”
I j erked my thumb in Murphy’s direction.
“Hmph,” Edward said.
Something soft touched my back. Murphy had taken off his shirt and pressed it to my wound. Sadly, the gash wasn’t closing on its own. I was going to need stitches.
“Tell me what happened,” Edward demanded.
“She needs a doctor.”
Edward pulled out his gun and pointed it at us both. I told him everything.
“Only a wereleopard can raise the living dead.” Edward set down the gun and picked up the diamond Murphy had placed on the low stone bench surrounding the fountain. “With a little help from the stone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the bokor cursed you to become like him on the next full moon, which was last night.”
“That’s the rumor.”
Edward’s lips twitched. I wasn’t certain if I annoyed or amused him, but right now I didn’t care.
“However, the black diamond knife, which killed Mezareau, did nothing to you.”
“Is there a point to this?” Murphy demanded. “Wereleopard or not, she’s only got so much blood to lose.”
“I’m concerned,” the old man murmured. “Cassandra has always had more power than she realizes. That, combined with Mezareau’s knowledge and the near immortality of a shape-shifter…” He spread his hands. “I cannot allow her to walk freely in this world.”
“You’ve got nothing to say about it!”
“There you are wrong.” Edward snapped his fingers, and the courtyard filled with people. From the number of weapons I guessed they were Jäger-Suchers.
“Hold on,” I said, fighting waves of nausea, pain, and dizziness. “The knife didn’t make me go boom. I’m not healing in the blink of an eye. Let me see if I can shift.”
The sound of several rounds being chambered made me freeze. I glanced at the sea of guns. “Little jumpy?”
“You think we’ll let you shape-shift and tear out our throats?” Edward asked.
“I doubt you’ll let me do anything of the kind,” I muttered.
“But how will we stop you? Silver doesn’t work on wereleopards; the black diamond doesn’t work on you.”
“So I’m supershifter. Lucky me.”
A tall, willowy blonde shoved through the crowd. Her electric blue dress and snazzy black stilettos were both out of place and right in fashion. She carried no weapon, but then she didn’t need one.
Elise was a werewolf.
You might think it odd that the most feared werewolf hunter had a granddaughter who turned furry; I know I had. However, the story of Elise and Edward was long, involved, and not exactly pleasant.
I’d met Elise once before, during the incident with Henri. We nodded a greeting, but I wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. Blood loss from a four-inch gash in the shoulder can do that.
“She seems exactly the same as she did when I met her the first time,” Elise murmured. “If she’s evil, I can’t see it.”
“Because evil shows?” Murphy’s voice was sarcastic.