“You doing okay kiddo?” she asked, not surprised at Nali’s slow nod. The little girl rarely talked since being rescued almost a month ago and it seemed as if she was taking an unusually long time to recover. She smiled and ruffled the girl’s hair and was rewarded with a small smile in return, which disappeared almost instantly.
Martin cleared his throat and Layla turned her attention back to him. He looked purposely at Susan who gathered Nali to her bosom, the child’s dark hair a stark contrast to the woman’s fair skin.
“Let’s go watch cartoons,” Susan whispered as she picked up the girl’s unfinished breakfast, piled it onto a tray and walked towards the living room as Nali trailed in her wake, her eyes curious.
Martin moved over to the kitchen table and sat down across from Layla and Brett. “We still haven’t found her.”
Looking directly at Layla, he sighed. “We’ve spoken to all of our contacts, but no one has seen Suzette. We thought she may have been heading for the Mexican border to hide out, but so far, nothing. The only logical answer is that someone is helping her. Hiding her from us.”
“Based on what you told us about that last fight, Layla, and the video footage, she should need a while to recover. Even with the blood bags and the transfusion, it would still take her a month, at least, to be full strength. That means someone else is interfering with my investigation. And the only ones with the connections to make her disappear this thoroughly are the members of the Council.”
Martin stood, tension radiating from his normally cool body. “We have to be careful here. If the Council hears that we are accusing any member of harboring a murderer, we will be ripped to shreds.”
He looked towards the front of the house where Susan and Nali were. “All of us.”
“So, we just find her ourselves and take care of the problem.” Brett spoke the words that lingered in the back of Layla’s mind.
Martin shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. If someone is indeed hiding her, that means she has connections. And,” he held up a hand before Brett could protest, “if I can’t find her, it may mean her connections are higher up. If we find and kill her, we could actually do more damage and add fuel to the flames of the war. We have to tread carefully.”
Layla’s nostrils flared. It was not fair that Suzette was not being punished for all that she had done. She had destroyed so many lives and she was not being brought to justice. All because of protocol? How was that even a thing? Anger started to build up in her system. She wanted to let her beast out, to unleash her pain on the world that seemed to encourage the unfairness that Weres like Suzette exploited.
Brett’s hand touched her knee and she took a few deep breaths to bring herself under control, as his essence flowed over her and calmed her beast.
“Babe, relax,” he rubbed her leg reassuringly. “We’ll get her, I promise.”
Martin nodded in agreement. “We will find her and we will find out who is hiding her. And when we do…well, we’ll simply have to do what we have to do.”
*
The dreams started again that night. Layla lay in bed, her head throbbing as the events from the past few months crowded her mind. The moonlight streamed through the lone window across the room and she closed her eyes, trying to sort through the images and memories vying for space. The images flickered like a TV screen in her head. Her mother with her long blonde hair covered in blood, Suzette half-transformed, Brett bound and bloodied.
The memories played again and again and Layla groaned at the futility of trying to sleep as her mind seemed to want to indulge in the worst moments of her life. She grabbed her purse from the nightstand and rummaged through until she found her sleeping pills. Quickly popping two in her mouth, she forced them down, too tired to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water.
In minutes she was asleep, her dream state just as restless as when she was awake.
It began with a howling at the moon. Layla watched, her body seemingly floating as the big gray wolf from her dreams reared up. The moon hung inordinately low in the sky and the wolf’s howl was plaintive, almost mournful. She held her breath as he raised his head and howled again, then paused as something caught his ears.
A sudden wind swept through the trees and moved over the grass to where the wolf stood, the sound eerily similar to the wolf’s howling. He listened, ears cocked as the wind stole across the flat plains. Again he howled as the wind returned his missive, until a huge gust almost bowled him over.
He howled no more and walked away, head held high, to a copse of trees and in mere moments a man emerged, auburn hair wild and untamed, hazel eyes flashing fire. He looked up at the moon and glared at it even as he soaked up its essence, his expression almost feral before he strode naked and proud toward smoke curling up from nearby trees. He was a magnificent creature; his steps sure as he walked, his back held straight.
Reaching the village, he scouted the layout, his eyes on a beautiful young woman drawing water on the outskirts. Layla tried to shout a warning, but found that she was unable to render a sound; instead she was only able to watch as the man stalked the unknown woman. He got closer and closer, his expression and movements more and more predatory.
She breathed a sigh as the woman stopped her chore and cocked her head as if she sensed she was being watched, but then went back to her buckets. Her long hair was pulled back from her face revealing high cheekbones and dark olive skin. Suddenly the young woman stopped again. She dropped the buckets to help the man who had suddenly appeared near her. He was covered in blood, four long gashes in his side that looked as if they were caused by the claws of an animal.
Layla looked around for the big gray wolf in alarm; the wolf hadn’t seemed so dangerous; he seemed to have a sort of intelligence which had almost endeared him to her. The man reached the young woman and collapsed as she raised the alarm. Immediately, young men from the village appeared and helped her carry the bleeding man to her family home. The man held onto the young woman’s hands, his auburn hair hiding his face.
The scenery in front of her changed and Layla blinked in confusion. They were in the same village, but the trees seemed larger, fuller, and greener. The dark of night had given way to the bright of morning. All around her, the natives were preparing for the day and laughter bubbled up from their throats. The young woman emerged from a nearby home. Not the same one she had helped to carry the bleeding man into, but a smaller, cozier structure.
This home lay on the outer boundary of the site, protected by trees on one side and the village on the other. Now, the woman’s stomach protruded from her body and stretched the simple dress she wore as she held a hand protectively against it. A colorful bracelet adorned her arm; the gems braided into it shining in the light.
Her head turned towards the house and the man emerged. He wore a similar bracelet and a pair of pants made from the same material as the woman’s dress. She smiled widely and he embraced her, then paused and looked up at the moon. It was big and full and even in the daylight, shone almost as brightly as the sun.
He cocked his head thoughtfully and then looked up directly at Layla, his hazel eyes sad. Hania. The word floated on the wind as they left his lips. He shook his head, almost in disbelief, and then went to join the woman.
Emotions ripped through Layla; it was almost as if he had truly seen her. She wanted to ask him what the word meant. Hania. She had never heard of it before. Was it somehow important? And how could he see her? Was she dead?
The cry of a baby pulled Layla back to earth. The man stood in a small room of a house while the woman lay on the bed. Dark stains covered the animal hides strewn atop the makeshift mattress and the metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils. She watched the tiny flailing of a baby’s arms as they moved jerkily through the air.
The woman moaned quietly; the man moved to her side and picked up the infant. The tiny brown body wriggled as he offered the woman the bundle. She reached for the baby and held its tiny mouth to her u
ncovered breast, wincing slightly as the baby latched on eagerly and began to suck. Then slowly, as if in a dream, the woman’s eyes closed as her head fell back against the furs. She was dead.
Suddenly, Layla felt as if she was being sucked through a vortex. All around her colors swirled in an eerie mist and her head swam as the mist seemed to pull the oxygen from her lungs. Her body screamed for air, starved of its life-saving abilities and she tumbled headfirst, seemingly through space and through time.
Falling to the earth, her knees scraped the pavement as she hit the concrete and she looked up. She was home. She was alive. No, she thought as she looked around. Something was different. Christmas decorations lined the windows of shops. Garlands wrapped around utility poles and street signs. Banners announcing sales and happy holidays swung from street lights. But it wasn’t Christmas yet. That was almost two months away.
She blinked and in an instant she stood in an empty field near a deserted stretch of land at a private airport. Two small planes sat nearby, their empty shells rusted. The grass was high at her feet and the wind blew wildly through her hair. The man stood before her, his overly long auburn hair graying slightly and pulled back from his face accentuating his features. The moon rose high above them and stars too numerous to count twinkled around them. This time he was dressed conventionally in a pair of jeans and a shirt.
He smiled at her, his hazel eyes filled with hope and despair. Do it, he whispered. My Hania. Release me from this plane. This existence.
Layla’s heart inexplicably constricted and she frowned in confusion. She did not know this man. She had no right to feel for him. She wondered why she was here alone with him. Who are you? She asked, as he smiled at her.
You know who I am. Just as you also know what you must do. Not only to stop the war, but to save yourself and the ones you love. You have to do it. You have to kill me.
Layla closed her eyes as the weight of his words rested heavily on her shoulders. She would have to take another life. He was asking her to kill again. She opened her eyes, intent on telling him no, only to find that he had disappeared. Two women now stood in front of her, their long silver hair blowing in the wind , hazel eyes so much like her own, sparkling. Each woman held a small shiny orb clasped between her fingers.
Who are you? She asked again.
They smiled. Take it. Take our gifts. We gladly sacrifice ourselves to help you save him.
Layla looked at shiny orbs. One was round and full, but dark, the outer edges in an eclipse, while the other was round and rippled like the reflection of the moon on the ocean’s surface.
Only our gifts can help you succeed. Take it with our blessings. Bring him peace.
Reaching out involuntarily, her hands grasped the shiny surfaces, as a bright light blinded her. Searing pain raced up her arms as she tried to drop the orbs and she closed her eyes against the light. When she opened them, she was standing in the field again. Only this time, the man lay at her feet. His eyes were closed and blood poured from a mortal wound in his chest.
Thank you, he whispered, his voice weak.
Layla gasped as her hands dropped a bloodied dagger. The long blade winked at her as the moonlight reflected off its shiny surface now streaked in blood. She covered her mouth in horror and looked at her red blood-stained hands.
It had to be you. The man looked up at her. My Hania. I have waited so long for you. He reached for her as his last words echoed in her ears. I chose you. I chose my Hania. Thank you for sending me home.
The man disappeared, his ghostly smile seared into her brain. All around her the stars twinkled again, the lights become brighter as the stars grew in size. Suddenly, the bright, white light emanating from the stars changed, turning into red dots that continued to grow and glow. Layla stood still as the lights surrounded her. Animalistic growls rose around her, but she held her ground. A pair of red lights moved closer and eventually she made out the features of the already transformed Were.
Its mouth opened in a roar, saliva dripping from its fangs. She stared back into its eyes. She would face death proudly. It sniffed her and gave a sharp bark. Suddenly, all the other Weres moved in closer, drawing the circle around her tighter. She thought of the knife lying at her feet.
If she could take out the Alpha she might be safe, but that would mean looking down for the blade and breaking eye contact meant certain death. She held her breath as the big Were continued to peruse her, his snout sniffing her. He opened his mouth wider, his fangs glistening as he lunged.
Layla screamed; her eyes widened in terror as she bolted upright in the bed.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” Brett’s eyes were alert and full of concern as he pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, it was just a dream.”
She sensed Martin just outside her door and knew he understood that they were not under attack when his footsteps slowly moved away. Brett tightened his arms around her and she leaned into his embrace, relishing the comfort, but it was no matter. If this dream was like the others she’d had, she knew how everything would end.
She was going to die.
*
Layla woke slowly, her eyes adjusting to the bright light streaming through the curtains. She pulled the thin blanket off her body and swung her long legs over the side of the bed as she rose from the sheets damp with sweat. Her head throbbed and she was reminded of the dream the night before; the moon streaming through the window just as the sun did now.
She rubbed her head. The images so clear the night before were jumbled bits and pieces and she struggled to hold onto what she had seen as she reached for her dream journal. Brett had taught her to write down her dreams, but since her attack she had not done so regularly. Writing down the dreams acted like a private therapy session, one she wished she had known about when she was younger.
The vast amount of blank pages confused her. Why had she not realized that her dreams had stopped? She tried to recall the last time she had written anything, hell, the last time she had dreamed, but nothing came to mind. Until the dream last night, which had been so vivid, it had to have been important. And now it was gone.
The door creaked open slowly and Layla stilled as she felt the presence behind her. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, inhaling Nali’s essence seconds before the small hand slipped into her own. The little girl sat next to her on the bed and leaned her head against Layla’s arm. Even though it wasn’t easy, the young girl was adapting; she was showing her how much she cared and Layla absorbed the quiet affection and love.
“Don’t cry, Layla.”
Layla brought her free hand to her face, not realizing the tears were there until Nali spoke. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, leaning down to kiss Nali’s dark hair, even as the tears continued to fall. “I’m okay.”
Nail frowned, her lips turned down as she stared up at Layla, clearly not understanding. “Then why are you crying?”
Layla chuckled at the question; so like children to ask the obvious. Why indeed? She had no idea why the tears continued to fall from her eyes, just like she had no idea about a lot of things. She had no idea what to do now that Suzette was missing in action, the other Were, Kuruk, was probably still trying to kill her and the blue moon was only a few months away. She wiped her eyes again and blew her nose for good measure before looking back at Nali.
“See, I’m okay.” She peered closer to the girl, breathing in the sweet scent of innocence. “Want to check?”
Nali giggled and shook her head, then quickly wrapped her arms around Layla’s waist in a fierce hug.
“Good,” Layla stroked her head. “Now let’s go get something to eat.” She smiled as she returned the hug, giving Nali a tight squeeze before the little girl jumped out the bed and sped out the room.
Brett stood outside the door, his lean body blocking her way as she tried to pass. He reached for her hand, stopping her. “You sure you’re okay?” He smoothed the hair away from her face.
Her mind a jumble of thoughts and emoti
ons, she turned her face away and nodded. To be honest, she had no clue if she was okay or not. And she did not want him to see her so weak. She was supposed to be the daughter of a god—the god—the first Were who fathered them all. And here she was crying? Because of what? A stupid dream she couldn’t even remember? A hug from a child she barely knew?
He stared into her eyes like he knew she was holding something back. It was a look he seemed to wear more and more often since they had fought Suzette. But so far, he had not addressed it, instead he allowed her to continue to lie to him, allowed them to fall apart.
“Then what was that last night? You haven’t had that nightmare before, have you?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, but to be honest, I haven’t been remembering my dreams of late. Actually, I don’t think I’ve really been sleeping either.” She ignored what his frown might mean. If he was worried about her lack of dream memories, then it might be a bigger problem than she was allowing herself to believe.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Frustration tinged his voice and her wolf bristled, even as she tried to relax.
“Look, it’s not a big deal. It’s just a few dreams I don’t remember.” She shrugged.
“Nothing?” he persisted. “Not even the one from last night?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I mean, I remember being terrified and wanting to run away, but I don’t know what it was that scared me or why I was so afraid. But,” she waved a dismissive hand, “it’s not important. It’s not like it makes any difference. Either way, our goal is the same.”
He held onto her hand as she tried to move away. “You are the daughter of a god who communed with the heavens through dreams. Of course the dreams are important, Layla—!”
“Brett, stop! It’s not that important!” Her head throbbed again in earnest and she brushed past him pulling her hand from his. “The only thing I remember from last night is one word. One. Single. Word. Hania. And I don’t even know what it means.”
Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) Page 2