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cranky! I do not get cranky! And I am a man. Well, I’m male, since Moravians aren’t strictly human. Change me back!
    â€œHow many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t do anything to you! I’m an officer of the fish and wildlife department. I’m not a . . .” My hands waved around in a vague gesture as I turned to my sister. “What sort of person turns other people into jaguars?”
    â€œOh, mercy. I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip. “A witch, maybe?”
    â€œI think Wiccan is the politically correct term these days, and I’m not sure they can change people into things,” I answered, turning back to the cat. “Well, I don’t know what sort of person would change someone into a jaguar. I mean, that’s impossible to begin with, but I’m not very well versed on folklore, so I don’t know what that would be, but whatever it is, I’m not one.”
    Folklore , he said slowly, as a speculative look came into his unnaturally blue eyes. The Leshies!
    Now that was a word I was familiar with. “Leshies? Did you say Leshies?”
    Yes. Danielle’s family, to be specific. Oh Christ, that I do remember. She wanted me to marry her.
    â€œThe animal whackos?” Cora asked.
    The cat looked consideringly at her. You know them?
    â€œI do, a little. Cora doesn’t.”
    â€œI don’t what?”
    â€œKnow the Leshies. I’ve dealt with them a few times,” I said cautiously.
    You’re not part of them, are you?
    â€œNo. I told you, I work for the state. But what does a group of animal rights activists have to do with you?” It was becoming easier and easier to believe that the cat wasn’t what he seemed, although my brain had a hard time wrapping itself around the thought that the jaguar before me was really a man.
    I just told you. Danielle wanted me to marry her. But I refused. Somehow, one of the Leshies changed me into a panther.
    â€œJaguar,” I said automatically.
    I wonder who changed me? It was probably her father, the wicked old sod. She said he wouldn’t let the matter lie when I turned her down.
    â€œYou’re talking about Albert Baum, aren’t you? I’ve never met his daughter, I’m afraid.”
    That’s the bastard. He did this to me! Well, if he thinks that’s the end of the matter, he can bloody well think again. No one messes with a Moravian.
    â€œWhat’s he saying?” Cora hissed.
    I gave her a brief rundown before turning back to the cat. “I’m sorry. I’m still confused. You keep saying you’re from Moravia, but you’re also Scottish?”
    Moravians are commonly referred to in mortal terms as vampires , he said absently. I could feel him thinking furiously, creating and discarding any number of plans of revenge.
    â€œVampires?” I gasped, the word reverberating in my brain.
    â€œWhat?” Cora reeled back.
    â€œAvery the cat says he’s . . . a vampire,” I said, feeling my eyes bug out a little.
    â€œOh my God, not another one!” Cora wailed, scooting away from him. “They’re everywhere!”
    I’d prefer it if you would use the term Moravian. Vampire is so Twilight .
    â€œThe kind of vampire who sucks blood?” I asked, feeling it important to make that point clear.
    Moravian. Yes. Do you have some sort of problem grasping that concept?
    â€œA Dracula sort of vampire, with stakes, and children of the night?”
    â€œThey’re following me!” Cora yelled as she turned and ran down the hallway toward the large metal back door. “Everywhere I go, they’re there! First Patsy’s neighbor, now a vampire cat—what next?”
    The cat sighed into my mind and bumped my knee with his nose. M-o-r . . . Oh, to hell with it. Call me whatever you want; it doesn’t matter. I have to get back to the Leshy compound and make Albert Baum