Stealth the Ghost Panther by Adam Blade

L UKE PEERED CAUTIOUSLY AROUND THE STREET corner. Nothing moved, except for a cat that shot across the cobbles and vanished between two buildings on the opposite side. All the dwellers in Avantia’s capital city had gone to their beds long ago.
    The moon shed a pale light over the street, though dark shadows lurked in corners. Beyond the rooftops of the shops and houses, Luke could see the purple spires of King Hugo’s palace. He shivered as he wondered if Wizard Aduro was looking out, keeping watch on everything that went on in the city.
    A hand shoved Luke roughly in the back. He glanced over his shoulder to see his master, Bill.
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?” Bill demanded. “Get a move on!”
    â€œJust checking,” Luke mumbled resentfully.
    Luke looked up at the inn’s creaking sign above his head: It showed a scarlet dragon with fire spurting from its jaws. Bill pointed to a pile of barrels stacked against the inn wall. “Go on. Climb,” he ordered.
    Luke hung back. The climb was easy enough: Above the pile of barrels, a drainpipe led up to an open latticed window. But he was scared at the thought of what would happen if anyone found him once he was inside.
    â€œI said climb !” Bill gave Luke a harder shove that sent him stumbling to his knees. “You’re a young lad — it’s easy for you to scramble up there. Get inside, and come down to let me in.” He chuckled and rubbed his grimy hands together. “There’ll be rich pickings tonight, and you’ll get your share.”
    Luke hauled himself to his feet and limped toward the pile of barrels. He didn’t dare disobey Bill. His master was a huge man, tall and broad-shouldered, and he could scare Luke just by glaring at him.
    How did I ever end up like this? Luke thought miserably as he started to clamber up the drainpipe. I never wanted to be a thief.
    As Luke climbed, he thought he could hear soft footfalls in the street, and a sound like a whip cracking in the air. Then he heard the scuffle of Bill’s boots on the cobbles, and his master’s voice raised in a shout that died away at once in a choking rattle.
    Luke peered over his shoulder. Bill was lying facedown in the street. A pool of blood spread slowly from his temple, glistening ink-black in the light of the moon.
    Is he dead? Terror froze Luke to the drainpipe.
    A moment later Bill stirred, hauling himself to his knees and then to his feet.
    â€œWhat happened?” Luke called down softly. “Are you all right?”
    Bill didn’t reply. Staggering forward, he pointed a trembling finger at Luke. “Thief!” he spat, his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to tell your parents what you’ve been up to!”
    Luke gasped in horror. His mother and father would never live down the shame of knowing that he creeped out of bed at night to go thieving with Bill. And Bill might have been rough with him before, but never cruel. What had happened to him?
    â€œYou can’t —” Luke began.
    His protest was cut off by a bloodcurdling howl that echoed through the streets of the city. It sounded like the yowl of a hunting cat, but a thousand times louder and more menacing. Bill cringed at the sound, then turned and raced away.
    Luke could see nothing in the empty street except a pair of glittering green dots, dancing in the distance.
    â€œWhat’s that?” he muttered to himself. “They look like eyes.”
    Cautiously, he began to climb down, only to freeze as the green dots suddenly leaped forward. Out of the night, a coal-black panther appeared, his gleaming fangs bared and his jaws gaping as if he might swallow Luke whole.
    With a choking cry, Luke scrambled back up the drainpipe. Is that what attacked Bill? he asked himself as he tried to grip the slippery surface.
    The panther leaped and snarled beneath him. Swordlike claws slashed at Luke’s feet. His teeth were veined like marble, and