Moonlight Desire: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 1)

by K. R. Alexander

  Slowly, Diana shifted her gaze to meet my eyes. “Wolves are dying. Since last winter, one Grey, two Aspens, and four members of the Sable Pack have been murdered.”

  I sat still, not only hearing the word murdered beating in my brain, but floored by the numbers. Seven of them? They had a serial killer in their midst who’d taken down seven werewolves since winter and they just now thought they’d ask a witch for help?

  “I’m sorry,” I said after a breath. “But if you’re trying to solve a crime you’ve come to the wrong witch. Can’t you track the killers yourselves? And what about mundane police?”

  It seemed there was a shudder, a ripple of breath and murmuring not unlike the one following the name of the Beech Pack.

  “Our affairs are not human affairs,” Diana said. “To involve human police would be to explain, justify, and open our lives. Which could be a greater risk than what we already face.”

  This seemed improbable, given what they faced right now, but I held my tongue.

  “As to finding them, we have been attempting to since January. The killer, or killers, as we believe this is more than one person, knows what we are. They dowse the bodies and trails in petrol, citronella sprays, solvents, or other masking agents. We’ve never even come close.”

  “So it’s the same? You do know it’s the same person? Or same people?”

  “All seven have had their throats cut, bled out like game. Their eyes were removed, hearts staked, clothing gone, and skin and area splashed, generally with petrol as if they were to be burnt.”

  “But they’re not?” I swallowed. “Burning would seem like a safeguard against tracking.”

  “We suspect the killers don’t want a fire to draw attention.”

  “Draw attention? How are you finding them? How could the human community not know about a scene like that?”

  “They’re always near home, or left where we will be. They mean for us to find them. Of course, we do, and tend to our own dead.”

  “When you say staked … like vampires?”

  “Yes. Since there are no vampires here it doesn’t seem possible someone could mistake such identities. You must go to London or Birmingham to find vampires in this country.”

  There were vampires in London? How had I not known any of this?

  Thinking it made me remember. “Some humans know. I heard them mention deaths at the conference. So the magical community knows? Why haven’t you asked them before now?”

  “I couldn’t say as to the community. But a few individuals know because we told them. We have exceedingly few contacts in the world of casters. After a number of deaths, however, when it became clear we were making no progress, we did ask for help.”

  More unease than ever in the crowd. I felt tension like a shadow cast across the fire.

  That argument; Kage insisting they’d had to drag me here because talking wouldn’t have worked—that if I’d known what they wanted and who they were, I wouldn’t have come.

  Nana’s teaching; werewolves and humans didn’t mix. She’d said if I ever met a werewolf it was best to think of it as I’d think of meeting a wild wolf. Keep my distance, mind my own business. Because one thing I did know about them, or thought I’d known, was that they really didn’t like humans. One of the reasons, besides privacy, they were said to only live in places like Canada these days. Not the most populated parts of overpopulated England.

  Plus my own inklings about them there in the dark: they didn’t want help from me or any other human, witch or mundane. They wanted to be left alone and solve their own problems.

  Probably a few—Diana, Elijah, likely some others in authority—must have decided that, in desperate times, they would go to humans. Not the cops, heaven forbid. But at least a caster.

  “So what happened?” I asked, feeling an oppressive sense of an uphill battle that I didn’t even want to be fighting.

  For the first time, Diana hesitated. “Last spring, I spoke with a mage in Brighton. He could not, or would not, help us. Yet he presented the idea of needing…”

  “A scry,” I finished quietly. “There are other scries in the magical world. You didn’t have to wait to prey on a tourist.”

  “It was not our intention to prey on anyone. I regret the way you were treated. As to your powers, however, you were invited from America to teach the art of scrying to other spellcasters, were you not? You are clearly the best.”

  “That’s why you sent some of your family to crash my talk? To make your selection? You’ve been watching Broomantle to find one? I’m sorry if you got the impression that I’m some elite seer. My grandmother was the renowned scry. Yes, I can do it, and teach it, but I’m no great shakes. There were better ones than myself there this weekend.”

  Hush. Many eyes glinted eerily in the firelight.

  I thought about telling them I was ready for that lift back to Brighton. Melanie probably wouldn’t be worried yet, thinking I was out with my peers. Most likely delighted to imagine I’d met a cute guy. Well … there were very attractive guys around. I could tell her that later in all honesty.

  Instead of her, I was the one worried. Whether they actually wanted me here or not, some of them had been smart enough to see they needed help. And to ask.

  I took a careful breath under the watchful eyes of dozens of predators who’d found themselves turned into prey. It might have helped if they moved about, or had drinks in their hands, or started their own conversations. No. They watched.

  “So you’re wanting me to scry for these killers? Then what? What if I see them? First of all, seeing someone doesn’t mean I will have any idea of the context. Looking for something like this by scrying … it’s such a long shot. Secondly, what will you do if I do find them?”

  More silence. And stares.

  “If you’re not involving the human legal system, I can’t see how this could end up any better than a bloodbath—even if I could tell you right now what’s going on. I sympathize for what’s happening to you. But I’m not comfortable pointing a finger and more people dying either.”

  “I can’t tell you what would become of the killers if we catch them,” Diana said. “Justice is not what concerns our packs at the moment. It is fear for the lives of our parents and siblings—our young, friends, and neighbors—that robs our sleep. Knowing the face of this killer represents life, at least a chance, be that defensive or offensive. While continuing in ignorance as we are now means another mother, or mate, or brother could be dead by morning.

  “We are not asking you to be our council, Cassia Allyn—judge, jury, police, or jailer. We ask only for a witness, a clue, a path to follow. Though we have no right to ask you favors, you may be our one hope. If there is anything at all … anything you think might shed light…” She trailed away with her eyes briefly shut before meeting mine again.

  I looked into the fire, turned my face from the heat, and nodded.

  Chapter 6

  They seemed to expect me to need my witchy wares—perhaps to perform the scry in my designated magic room with my magic wand and crystal ball. All I actually need to scry is my mind. Outside induction of a trance state is, however, a huge help.

  I asked Diana if any of them drummed, or did they know a chant they could use?

  “We shall sing Moon’s blessing,” she said. “A prayer and lullaby. Repeated, it should sound like a chant.”

  It turned out to be a perfect melody not only because of the repetitive nature, but because there were no words in the song I could understand. That language again, round and lyrical, too many consonants and as strange to my ear as Russian. Still, it was beautiful.

  They chanted this moon prayer in rhythmic tones, no louder than wind whipping through autumn leaves. The fire cracked and flashed.

  I sat on the ground with my legs crossed, still uneasy about closing my eyes in front of them—not to mention worrying about spiders lurking in the long grass. Like shamanic journeys, though, I would never be far gone, always aware of this spa
ce. If anyone tried to, say, throw a bag over my head, I’d know.

  I interlaced my fingers, chin down, eyes shut, and let the song carry me to a place of meditation. The waterfall I always retreated to for personal energy, to call my magic, settle my mind, escape, or gain insight. In this landscape, I gathered my intentions and goal.

  These people are being attacked. Shifters of the South Coast Cooperative have been murdered.

  Help. Reveal: the killer, the way, the next step.

  See truth without distance or time as barriers.

  Open doors.

  Answers.

  The grove was not my own. Space in standing stones. An emerald green pastureland. Rolling slopes, cliffs to the sea. Figures in dust-brown robes.

  A great calm settled over me. The first peace I’d felt since falling asleep in Melanie’s guest room last night. Wind whistled over standing stones. Dark symbols on them vanished into shadows cast by the setting sun.

  Reveal.

  Answers.

  I saw no more, only this quiet place of meditation, a small group with hands folded. They also seemed to be praying or chanting.

  I felt no fear, no malice. Rather, a kinship. A sense of connection. Often, if the way is unclear, a feeling can be as significant as a sight in scrying. I listened to the feelings.

  Answers. The word came back on the wind, in the chant, as if I could see it painted in the stone circle.

  Nothing else.

  I stood beside my waterfall with my spirit animal, the red-eyed tree frog. I looked into her blood-red eyes. My frog looked back from river rock at the edge of the pool.

  Are these answers? Or only the questions? I asked.

  She gazed for a long moment at me, then jumped into spraying white water and vanished.

  When I returned from the trance I sat for a long time, looking at flames, still thinking of the feelings as much as the sight.

  The chanting voices faded and gradually fell silent when they saw I was awake.

  Diana sat in a camp chair before me, fire to her right and to my left.

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure if this is much help, but … do you know any druids?”

  Many glances were exchanged behind her.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “The druids have lost someone as well,” Diana said.

  I felt a chill.

  The right answers begin with the right questions.

  “You didn’t mention that.”

  She looked around.

  Elijah was already moving his chair more into the light beside her. “We heard in the Aspens that a druid was murdered some months ago. I don’t know if the pattern was the same. There’s one my daughter and others have seen on occasion on the Teign, or we wouldn’t know at all.”

  “Druids and werewolves?” I said. “What’s the connection? Why would someone target both?”

  They shook their heads.

  “You’ll have to speak to them.” I made my tone more brisk. “Start with this one you see at the … is it a river?”

  Elijah nodded, yet he looked uncomfortable. “I’ve never met this person. Even those who have go months between a glimpse, much less a conversation. Like us, druids keep to themselves. I couldn’t tell you where they live.”

  “Cornwall.”

  Elijah and Diana turned in their seats. I looked past them.

  The speaker sat at the edge of firelight, a young man with black hair down to his shoulders. Or a young male? I supposed it was wrong of me to identify them as “men” and “women.”

  “Come forward, Eleazar,” Diana said. “You think so? It is said these days there are no proper druidic orders closer than the border country.”

  He stepped up to her, but sank to his knees to join us on the grass, between Diana and myself so the three of us formed a semicircle facing the fire. He kissed her hand, then rocked back on his heels.

  “We don’t need a proper order, cataja,” he said. “We need only one druid to ask what’s happened to them. The old texts say there have always been druids in Cornwall—one of their sacred lands.”

  “You refer to history books, Eleazar.” Diana looked tired, face deeply lined in the skipping light.

  “Do we not study the past in order to understand the present, cataja?” He smiled from her to me, meeting my eyes. A real smile, gentle and warm as the glow to my left. The first sincere, pure smile I’d seen since arriving here.

  I returned it without meaning to, surprised how the sensation relaxed my own shoulders.

  College-age, maybe younger than myself, that long, wavy hair, black T-shirt, boots, and the leather bracelets he wore all would have fit perfectly with a guitar in his hands. And he could have been on his own album cover. His smile was beautiful. Not a very manly word, but it was: faint dimples in his cheeks, perfect teeth—not all together common in the UK—and sparkling eyes reflecting dancing firelight.

  Diana had already answered him and looked to me before I’d noticed.

  “Well,” I said, dragging my attention back to her, past Eleazar. “I … suggest you find some. Cornwall or anywhere else. The connection is critical or I wouldn’t have seen druids. Since you already know they’ve experienced a loss, it’s the obvious place to start.”

  Murmurs and stirring in the crowd, at last not so fixed on me.

  “For all we know,” I added, “they’re on the trail of the same killer. Or already have answers. Even if both your groups are solitary, surely you could work together on something this important.”

  Diana nodded thoughtfully. Elijah said something to her that I couldn’t catch and she frowned, tapping her fingers on the fabric arm of her chair.

  Eleazar still smiled at me while everyone else grew restless. He offered his hand, then switched from left to right in a flash.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I forget most humans are dextel. I mean … uh…”

  “Right-handed?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Beaming even more. “I’m Zar. Only elders call me Eleazar. It’s a gift and a privilege to meet you.”

  “It is?”

  We still had some audience but others were finally talking among themselves.

  “Of course it is. You honor us by being here.”

  I wanted to push hair back from his face. See those eyes better since I couldn’t tell the color, only orange reflections. I wasn’t usually crazy about long hair on guys. On him, though…

  “Zar, nice to meet you. I’m Cassia.” I shook with him, surprised to find his grip mild.

  I could have held on, thinking of all the men I was supposed to meet with Melanie. Why bother? Not that werewolves were an appropriate substitute. Still, nice to see that some of the younger ones didn’t hate humans.

  Other things I was supposed to be concerned over just now.

  Even so, I had to ask. “Are most werewolves left-handed?”

  “Left, or even ambidextrous, are more common than right-handed. Right-handed wolves are what we call a dextel.”

  “In your own language? What are you speaking?”

  “Lucannis, the wolf tongue.” Talking fast. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous or only eager to share with me. “You must think us frightfully rude. We don’t often have people around who can’t understand it.”

  “No, it’s … gorgeous.”

  Zar lowered his voice as he went on. “Kage, your inviter—” Grinning. “He’s a dextel and he’s always been touchy about it since it makes him look human. I wouldn’t be fussed. Not with humans like you around.” He inched nearer, very much in my personal space, yet I couldn’t say I minded. “Your eyes are moonlight ripples in woodland pools. If I had your eyes, I’d never be able to pull myself away from a mirror.”

  “How can you see my eyes in firelight?”

  Zar leaned even closer. “I’m sorry Diana didn’t ask me to bring you back. Things would have been different. You could have come to the whole council meeting if you’d wanted to. If you didn’t want to…” A little shrug. “I know
all the hidden coves and inlets up and down the beach from Kent to Devon. We could have found other places to be.”

  “Is that so? Why didn’t you go with Kage and Jed then?”

  “Oh … you know.” He finally dropped his gaze, twisting a stalk of golden grass around a finger of his left hand. Somehow, he was still holding my right. “We should give them a chance, like the elders have been trying to. Let them fail on their own if they must.”

  “I see. You’re very noble.”

  A shy smile, his focus back on my eyes. “Jed’s my brother and Kage is my first cousin. Who am I to look after them all their lives? If they’re going to maintain shambolic reputations around here it’s best if the poor sods do it on their own.”

  “You’re the brother and cousin of those two? I’m surprised you’re willing to admit that. Especially to me.”

  “Love makes fools of wise wolves and pups of silvers. I would admit anything to you.” He kissed my hand on those words while I suddenly wished he wouldn’t: Diana was again addressing me.

  Not that I knew what to say. Or had heard the first bit of what she was saying.

  “And we will protect you, of course,” Diana said. “It’s possible you could be in danger if this killer finds out you seek them.”

  What?

  I had to wrench my gaze from Zar. He still smiled at me, head a bit tipped, eyes tossing back firelight, dimples showing.

  “I … uh,” I said to Diana, thinking of hidden coves by moonlight. “I don’t see why anyone would know. If you find druids and start asking awkward questions, I suppose it would be nice if you didn’t drop my name. Otherwise…”

  “What about your search?”

  “Search?” Had I zoned out that much?

  Dammit—he was still smiling. Didn’t he have anything else to look at?

  “To find the murderers. We recommend you start in Cornwall.” As Diana spoke, Elijah nodded. “Eleazar knows lore and ways of our magical kin.”

  “I’ll go,” Zar said at once. “Thank you, cataja. It will be my honor to protect Cassia and track our foe.”

  “You have your pack’s gratitude, Eleazar. Others…” She looked back as hands went up—which startled me.