Stain of Midnight

by Cassandra Moore

  Stain of Midnight

  Heart of Darkness Book Two

  Cassandra Moore

  Edited by

  Cyntha M. Jones

  Copyright © 2018 by Cassandra Moore

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover artwork by Mayhem Cover Creations.

  To Bee, for the werewolf herpes.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Does the Dog Die? A Spoiler for Animal Lovers

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Cassandra Moore

  Chapter One

  The big German Shepherd growled a long, deep rumble of warning. He jumped to his feet, as alert now as he’d been sleepy a moment before, and his large ears swiveled forward as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Amber eyes fixed on the door.

  “I hear them, Charlie,” Sonja Carter said, though she more felt them than heard them. Edgy, nervous energy had made her restless all day, the magical equivalent of too much coffee on a sleepless morning. She couldn’t tell if the people outside the studio had caused it, or if they just rode in with the current of supernatural adrenaline.

  They could just be a group of potential customers. People off the street who needed directions. Tourists who happened to feel like they’d vacationed in Hell and taken a selfie with Beelzebub to post on their social media with a tasteless joke about someone’s mother-in-law. Charlie’s bared teeth told her different, and she tended to listen to him. And to her own instincts, which prickled as the bell on the door chimed.

  She tucked the .45 into the back of her pants as she stood up from her desk. Anything smaller would just tickle a werewolf, or shadow wolf, even loaded with silver bullets. Human intruders didn’t scare her. If she packed heat, it meant someone with fangs or fur would end up in the sights. Either one could happen in this town, and these days, it had grown difficult to know whom she could trust.

  One look told her she couldn’t trust these guys any further than she could throw her Humvee. Werewolves, and part of the Seattle pack, if her memory served her right. She hadn’t had much to do with them in her time in Tacoma, since Seattleites tended to look down on their southern neighbors and the Seattle pack didn’t welcome lone wolves in their territory. This collection of out-of-town wolves shouldn’t have an ounce of pull down here, but that didn’t soothe her nerves as she sauntered out of the office with Charlie at her side.

  I don’t know what the hell is up with them, but I’ll bet a bowl of kibble it isn’t good. The dog growled again, hackles still up like an angry scrub brush. He felt the tension, too. Werewolves visiting another territory wouldn’t make trouble with the local pack, but she didn’t have that kind of assurance. Which left her to wonder if Noah Craig, the local alpha, had given them permission to come out here, or if they’d bothered to check in with him at all. Only one way to find out.

  “Evening, folks,” she said. She kept her voice friendly. Could be customers. Solicitors. Pretty sure they aren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses.

  Because no Witness she had ever met wore cowboy hat and boots like the man in the lead. She wondered if his belt buckle could deflect bullets. At its size, he could’ve strapped it to his forearm and used it as a miniature shield. The other two had the look of stray cowboys in search of a rodeo, but Sonja decided their plainer hats and lack of flashy belt buckle indicated a lesser stature.

  “Evening.” She dubbed the leader Tex. His voice had a faint Texas twang. “Are you Sonja Carter?”

  “Last time I checked.” Meter maids? Maybe I’m double parked. “Owner of Carter Self-Defense Studio here. You looking for some lessons?”

  “Can’t say that we are.” He kept his tone warm, too, and a smile on his face. Neither reached his eyes. The man to his left shifted his weight forward.

  Charlie gave a low rumble. Sonja reached down to stroke his head. Tourists looking for an authentic Mexican food joint? Oh, come on. I just had the floors cleaned. I don’t want to shoot anyone today. “I don’t mean to seem rude, but let’s keep our distance until I know a little more about you. Since you’re not here for training, maybe you could tell me what I can do for you.”

  Tex made a subtle motion with his hand to keep his friend back. “Information. You were recommended to us as the one to see.”

  Guess I should’ve seen that coming. Whenever a person of paranormal persuasion had a problem they couldn’t solve, a question they couldn’t answer, or strange situation they couldn’t out-weird, they found their way to Sonja. She brokered deals between fangs and feeders. Found a rare herb one of the local charm makers needed for a special incantation. When the vampires and werewolves had come close to breaking the truce, Sonja had served as the go-between for both. She convinced Moira, one of Tacoma’s most notorious neutrals in the magical community, to let them use her metaphysical shop Moon Blessings to meet in.

  Ironic the vampires trusted Sonja more than the werewolves did. The consequence of refusing to join the pack so she could operate as a lone wolf instead.

  But that didn’t answer why the Seattle pack would show up in her studio, asking for information. Out-of-towners seldom looked for the local fixer. They brought their own, and sent an email like other civilized oddities. “It must be important information to bring you all this way.”

  “It is. We want to know more about your recent troubles here. The man who warped wolves with shadow magic.”

  Neither the local werewolf pack nor the coteries of vampires had kept those events secret, which meant Seattle’s wolves should have heard all about it. Especially after all this time. “‘Recent’ is kind of relative. About a year ago, or little more than a year, the local biters kidnapped seven werewolves and performed an unknown ritual. It involved artifacts that resembled canopic jars and the hearts of four unknown victims.” She glossed over the finer details, preferring not to give out an oral how-to manual for aspiring dark sorcerers. “We called what came out of that ‘shadow wolves’. The local alpha female is one of the ones he turned.”

  No matter how often she told the story, her stomach still felt like lead every time she talked about it. Kayla got the most attention – and had earned it, with her quest for revenge and how it inspired her now-husband Noah to take the alpha spot in the local pack. The shadow wolves they’d fought got lost in the story of Kayla and Noah’s triumph, the ones who tried to kill the alpha pair along with the pack enforcer Cameron got added to the list of enemies to hunt down like rabid mongrels... And Derek goes forgotten. Just like he’d want it, I guess.

  She disagreed, but she was biased. He’d been her boyfriend once, and her friend always. And she hadn’t figured out how to help him before he had slunk off into the shadows that had surrounded him. First in metaphor since his return from the Middle East, then literally for this past year.

  Tex leaned forward with an intent expression. “This biter. Paul Kiplinger, right?”

  “Right. He was one of the more ambitious of the vampires in town, but also one of the most hated. Had a penchant for cruelty and amoral behavior, even b
y vampire standards, and he wanted to take over the local vampire lord’s spot in the worst way. Around the time of the local werewolf pack’s power shift, Kiplinger disappeared. We can infer he went off to lick his wounds, gather up more power to try his coup again, but...” She spread her hands. “We don’t know. We haven’t heard a hiss out of him for three, no, four months.”

  All three of Sonja’s visitors exchanged glances with each other. Sonja didn’t quite understand the exchange. Acknowledgement of something they already suspected. Smug satisfaction. She didn’t care for it.

  Tex said, “I see.”

  “I don’t.” Sonja tucked her hands behind her back in a loose at-ease posture. It gave her faster access to the gun in her belt. “It’s your turn to give over some information.”

  “What makes you think we have any?” Tex had turned defensive now, and his companions tensed. Adrenaline hummed through her and Charlie, too. The dog all but vibrated against her leg.

  She forced herself to stay still, with her best poker face on. “What makes you think I’m stupid?”

  “No one said that.”

  “No one had to. You clearly think I am if you expect me to believe you didn’t already know everything I just told you.”

  Quiet. Sonja let it reign. An observant person could learn a lot from silence, and she had taught herself to listen when words remained unsaid. Listen, and observe. Her senses deepened, expanded from a human’s to something more. Something wolven.

  Aggression and the desire for dominance had their own scents, especially to wolves. Both sat at the core of their communications, with the need to know when another wolf would try to steal food or mates or territory. The room reeked of them. Anger, too, like the sharp scent of red pepper as it stung the inside of her nose. That anger promised violence to any unfortunate soul that attracted its attention.

  She spoke evenly into the silence. “There are two ways I see this. You came here looking for more information on the shadow wolves because you’re into dark magic and you want to hear more. If that’s the case, then you know where the door is. I’ll give you three steps in that direction before I start hitting speed dial to every vampire and werewolf in this town.”

  Tex clenched his fist. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

  “And I do recommend you rethink your current course of action. That won’t end well for either of us.” She didn’t move. “Or I can wonder if you’re here to check up on the local pack. You came from Seattle. Maybe the alpha up there wonders if he’s getting the whole truth about what’s happening down here. Or maybe it’s a reason I can’t guess at. Care to lay it out for me?”

  He forced a smile over his face. It looked more like a sneer. “Tell me something, Miss Carter. How’d you like it if shit went to Hell in a handbasket in the next town over, and all you ever heard was, ‘We don’t know, we’ve got nothing?’ A man starts to wonder if he’s being lied to.”

  “Maybe your alpha ought to talk to the alpha down here about it. Tell me, does Russ Lehmann still lead your pack?”

  “Who says he doesn’t mean to come down?” The unpleasant sneer broadened, turned toward condescension. Sonja had the overwhelming urge to slap it off his face. Maybe with a bat. “But it doesn’t pay to walk into a situation blind, now does it.”

  “So you’re here to scout for the truth. Not to seem rude, but I don’t think the local leadership would care for this.”

  “We’re here on our own business. Never you mind what that is. Not to seem rude—” His tone mocked hers. “But we aren’t here to hold hands and sing campfire songs with y’all. This isn’t your concern. Yet.”

  Yet. For a heartbeat, she had the surreal impression she’d stepped into a very bad Western film. The moment only lacked the faint jingle of spurs and a tumbleweed blowing across the mats. “That statement has some unpleasant connotations. This whole conversation does. My policy is discretion for my clients, but you haven’t offered to pay me for what you’re asking. That means, you’re not a client, and the local alpha would love to hear about this discussion.”

  “Miss Carter, maybe I was misinformed. I heard you were a lone wolf.” He shook his head, long and slow, the very picture of disappointment. “I didn’t figure you for a company girl, if you know what I mean.”

  “Just because I’m a lone wolf doesn’t mean I don’t respect the Powers That Be. You ought to do the same.” She regretted the words moment they fell out of her mouth.

  Energy bristled in the air. Tex’s smirk became a curled lip. “You giving us orders, now?”

  “No, just making a friendly suggestion.” For all she wanted to level threats, it wouldn’t do the situation any good.

  “Your suggestion is received. I’m sure we’ll give it all due consideration.” The words dripped sarcasm. “Now let me make one to you in return. Folks don’t like lone wolves. Sure, they put up with them here, but we can’t call the local pack ‘effective’, now can we. They ain’t handled any of their problems. Not biters, not loners, none of them. Other packs won’t make that mistake.”

  For fuck’s sake. Now it’s a pissing match. Who can lift their legs on whose sacred trees. Territorial bullshit irritated Sonja, but she took it as seriously as those who played the game did. She had to. Otherwise, she wouldn’t last long. “Thank you for your very generous yet ineffective warning. I think it’s time for you to go.”

  He reached up a hand, ignoring Charlie’s warning growl, to tip the brim of his hat. “Thank you kindly for the conversation, Miss Carter. It’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise.” She lied through her teeth. “You gentlemen have a good evening. And remember what I said.”

  “Wouldn’t dare forget.” He jerked his head toward the door. The other two men turned to walk away, but Tex walked three steps backwards before took his eyes off her.

  Charlie whuffed as the door clicked closed. Sonja let out an explosive breath. “That could’ve gone better,” she said, as she wiped the sweat from her palms onto her jeans. “Though I guess it could’ve gone worse. I don’t need to clean the floor again after all.”

  The dog sneezed. He turned away from the door and sauntered back towards the office. She followed him back.

  “Guess that’s that,” she mumbled, though she didn’t believe it herself. It didn’t feel over, not by a long shot. The adrenaline that had quickened through her during the confrontation had yet to fade. Her students would get a good workout tonight.

  By the time her classes had ended, however, her instincts for something amiss had only gotten louder. Nervous energy drove her to pace the mats all throughout practice, and now, it had her jumping at shadows. She would have sworn something stalked the night outside and waited for her to emerge. Worse, the darkness felt wrong. Malign and laced with desperate fear.

  She could stay in the studio with her illusion of safety. The lights could stay on, but she had stopped believing light would protect her from the monsters in the darkness when she was eight. And that was before I became one of them. The vestigial remains of her most base human senses however, they wanted to hunker down in the anemic glow of the fluorescent lights with a gun in her hand and her big, toothy dog to protect her. They could stay until the sun came up, and then they could get the fuck out of Dodge.

  That instinct told her more than anything else just how much trouble they were in. She wouldn’t shy from a challenge. She wouldn’t run from a fight. But even rats had the good sense to flee a sinking ship.

  The rats have one up on me. She shrugged into her shoulder holster and slid her pistol home. Her leather jacket went on over it. She’d had her concealed carry permit since the day she turned twenty-one, though she didn’t tend to go about with a gun on her. Werewolves possessed an inherent right to bear furry arms. Tonight, she didn’t intend to go anywhere without an extra advantage.

  She paused by the light switch. The street outside looked like it always did, with moon-silvered trees along the neat sidewalk. Autumn h
adn’t yet grown cold enough to plume her breath, but those nights didn’t wait far away. She glanced down at her dog. “What do you say to steaks tonight? I think we’ve earned them. That goes double if we have to bite anyone on the way to the car.”

  Charlie wagged his tail twice then turned to stare off into the gloom. She knew how he felt. The switch clicked and killed the light.

  The short walk to her parking space seemed four times longer than the reality. Shadows clung to every car, every tree trunk, and lurked behind buildings when Sonja looked away. Movement teased her peripheral vision, but when she looked where she had seen motion, nothing remained. Nothing but her paranoia and the mounting sense of irrational irritation.

  Modern Humvees had taken their blocky aesthetic from old military vehicles like the one Sonja had repurposed for her own use. The old wheeled brick had seen its share of abuse, but she loved it all the same. Tonight, it looked better to her than any sports car could. Yet her senses screamed in warning. A restless shadow darted between the parked cars near the Humvee. Her hand drifted to the butt of her gun, but she reached past it for the sunglasses and pouch tucked into her jacket’s inner pocket. She knew better than to wave a gun around until she had line-of-sight on a target.

  Time to shed a little light on the situation.

  She guided Charlie into the shelter behind a car and gave a hand signal. Wait. Then she charged forward, finger in the loop of cord that held the pouch shut. When she flicked her wrist, the knot untied to disgorge the powder inside. She barked a quick charm to ignite the powder into a blue-white flare that seared the night into a harsh facsimile of day. Her sunglasses shielded her from the worst of it. Her stalker didn’t even have that.