Seven Days by Shari Richardson

earlier, Xavier needed me now. He was hurting and he wanted as much normalcy as he could get to drown out what must be screaming through his mind as he worked out what had happened to him today. I held him, pushing as much love and comfort into my embrace as I could. When Xavier sighed and began to relax, I loosened my grip on him.
    I closed my eyes and listened to the strong rhythm of Xavier’s heart beating beneath my ear. Hearing it made me wonder, as it often did, how Mairin could stand the silence in Mathias‘ chest. Xavier’s heartbeat was a touchstone for me. It was how I knew I was alive and that this amazing man was part of my life. The thought of ever laying my head against Xavier’s chest and hearing nothing but a roaring silence chilled me to the depths of my soul. I knew he could never be a vampire and so silence in his chest would mean his death. I couldn’t bear to consider that eventuality. As I dozed and then slept, I heard the coughing roar of a panther in the swamps outside the house. I shuddered as the sound came again and again, wafting through the window on the heavy night air. There was agony in that sound.

The mud was cool and soothing under the panther’s paws as it paced just beyond the visible edge of the trees outside the Meyers house. Each step helped the panther calm itself, but also gave it time to allow the agony to wash over it.
    The girl had gone to the other cat without fear. She had touched it, loved it, spoken to it. She had treated the other cat like it was a man, not a monster. While the panther knew the other cat had been a man, he’d never seen a human so comfortable with one of its kind as this one was. That kind of love and faith left this panther howling its agony.
    It had once stepped out of the shadows for the woman it loved. It had once shown her the beauty of this body. She had run screaming into the arms of the other man. The one she’d chosen over this panther’s human form.
    When the panther had become a man again, he’d gone back to the girl he’d loved and told her, shown her the truth of what he was. Told her how it had happened. She had run again. Ever the coward, she had refused to accept any responsibility for what the man had become. She had left him to his lonely world where only the hunt brought him happiness.
    The panther turned from the house where the girl and her cat now slept. There would be retribution for what had been done to it, the cat decided. What better distraction was there than the hunt? What else made him as happy as the hunt? And what better prey was there than the woman who didn’t run screaming from what he was? The woman who loved a cat would die by the claw and tooth of a cat. There was no better revenge than that which taught a lesson to the ones left behind.

Chapter 4
    The panther’s paws made no sound on the road leading into the alleys behind the stores in the center of East Hampton. It moved slowly and carefully, stalking its prey from a distance.
    The girl with the long brown hair dragged several full garbage bags down the alley toward a large dumpster. Her uniform was stained and her face showed the strain of a day of caring for customers. She was unaware that her days of making coffee and handing out pastries were about to come to an abrupt end.
    The panther slipped silently down the alley, sticking to the shadows near the walls. The girl stopped by the dumpster and began to heave the bags into the open door, grunting as the weight of the day’s garbage settled into her shoulders.
    As she hefted the last bag, the panther darted across the alley, leaped onto her and sank its teeth into her neck. Hot blood rushed into its mouth and the panther purred deep in its chest. The hunt was pleasure. Blood was the climax. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t the right prey. What mattered was that it was blood and meat. The panther pulled its prey into a dark corner and leisurely finished its meal. No one came looking for the girl.