Power of the Witch

Chapter 3

They'd gotten a dragon. Rachel's heart was poundimg. Somehow, somewhere, the people of the Night World had found one and awakend him. And they'd paid him, bribed him, to join their side. Rachel didn't even want to imagine what the price might have been. A bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Dragons were the oldest and most powerfull of the shapeshifters, and the most evil. They had all gone to sleep thirty thousand years ago - or, rather, they had been put to sleep by the witches. Rachel didn't known exactly how it had been done, but all the old legends said the world had been better of since. And now one was back.But he might not be fully awake yet. From the glimpse she'd had, his body was still cold, not much heat radiating from it. He'd be sluggish, not mentally alert. It was a change of a lifetime. Rachel's decision was made in that instant. There was no time to think about it - and no need. The inhabitants of the Night World wanted to destroy the human world. And there were plenty of them to do it, vampires and dark witches and ghouls. But this was something in another league altogether. With a dragon on their side, the Night World would easily crush Circle Daybreak and all other forces that wanted to save the humans from the end of the world that was coming. It would be no contest.

And as for that little girl in there, Rebecka the Witch Child, the Wild Power meant to help save humankind - she would get swatted like a bug if she didn't obey the dragon. Rachel couldn't let that happen. Even as Rachel was thinking it, she was changing. It was strange to do it in a public place, in front of people. It went against all her most deeply ingrained training. But she didn't have time to dwell on that. It felt good, it always did. Painful in a nice way, like the feeling of having a tight bandage removed; a release. Her body was changing. For a moment, she didn't feel anything, she almost had no body. She was fluid, a being of pure energy, with no more fixed form than a candle flame. She was utterly... free. And than her shoulders were pulling in and her arms were becoming more sinewy. Her fingers were retracting, but in their place long, curved claws were extending. Her legs were twisting, the joints changing. And from the sensitive place at the end of her spine, the place that always felt unfinished when she was in human form, something long and flexible was springing. It lashed behind her with fierce joy. Her jumpsuit was gone. The reason was simple; she wore only clothes made out of the hair of other shapeshifters. Even her boots were made out of the hide of a dead shifter. Now both were being replaced by her own fur, thick dark brown velvet with black rosettes. She felt complete and whole in it.

Her arms -now her front legs- dropped to the ground, her paws hitting with a soft but heavy thump. Her face prickled with sensitivity; there were long, slender whiskers extending from her cheeks - invisible for the human eye. Her tufted ears twitched alertly. A rasping growl rose in het chest, trying to escape from her throat. She held it back, that was easy and instinctive. Being part panther she was by nature the best stalker in the world. The next thing she did was instinctive, too. She took a moment to gauge the distance from herself to the dark haired boy. She took a step or two forward, her shoulders low. And than she jumped. Swift, supple, silent. Her body was in motion. It was a high, bounding leap designed to take a victem without an instant of warning. She landed on the dark boy's back, clinging with razor claws. Her jaws clamped on the back of his neck. It was the way panthers killed, by biting through the spine. The boy yelled in rage and pain, grabbing at her as her weight knocked him to the ground. It didn't do any good. Her claws were to deep in his flesh to be shaken off, and her jaws were tightening with bone-crushing pressure. A little blood spilled into her mouth and she licked it up automatically with a rough, pointed tongue. More yelling. She was dimly aware that the vampires were attacking her, trying to wrench her away, and that the security guards were yelling. She ignored it all. Nothing mattered but taking the life under her claws. She heard a sudden rumble from the body beneath her. It was lower in pitch than anything human ears could pick up, but to Rachel it was both soft and frighteningly loud. Then the world exploded in agony.

The dragon had caught hold of her fur just above the right shoulder. Dark energy was crackling into her, searing her, it was the same black power he'd used against Meg, except that now he had direct contact. The pain was scalding, nauseating. Every nerve ending in Rachel's body seemed to be on fire, and her shoulder was a solid red blaze. It made her muscles convulse involuntarily and spread a metallic taste through her mouth, but it didn't make her let go. She held on grimly to detach her mind from the pain. What was frightening was not just the power but the sense of the dragon's mind beneath it. Rachel could feel a terrible coldness. A core of mindless hatred and evil that seemed to reach back into the mists of time. This creature was old. And although Rachel couldn't tell what he wanted with the present age, she knew what he was focussed on now. Killing her, that was all he cared about.

And ofcourse he was going to succeed. Rachel had known that from the beginning. But not before I kill you, she thought. She had to hurry, though. There almost certainly were other Night People in the mall. These guys could call for reinforcements, and they would probably get them. You can't... make me.... Let go, she thought. She was fighting to close her jaws. He was much tougher than a normal human. Panther/wolf jaws could crush the skull of a young buffalo. And right now, she could hear muscle crunching, but still she couldn't finish him. Hang on... hang on... Black pain... blinding... She was losing consciousness. For Meg..,vshe thought. Sudden strenght filled her. The pain didn't matter anymore. She tissed her head, trying to break his neck, wrenching it back and forth. The body underneath her convulsed violently. She could feel the little lapsimg in it, the weakening that meant death was close. Rachel felt a surge of fierce joy.