She ran to the receptionist. “Hey, do you know who delivered the flowers?”
The girl stared at her curiously. “No. Is something wrong?”
Layla shook her head; her breathing labored as she thought about the possible reasons for the scent trails and glanced into the receptionist’s dark brown eyes. “No, I just thought it may have been a friend.” She smiled. “I can simply call the company.”
Her mind troubled, she walked back to the office and took a deep breath. Martin needed to be made aware of this latest development, she paused, but then she would have to mention the flowers and that explanation would inevitably lead to Ray. If Brett happened to be there then he would know something was up. It would also mean calling it off with Ray and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.
Not that it made any difference. By now the Were was probably long gone. In a weird twisted way, it made sense that this could have happened. Both Weres were actively tracking her and could have easily scented her here. She would just have to be more careful, although the Weres would not dare to attack her on campus. Too many eyes and too many cameras.
After the fiasco with her old boss last month, security was everywhere and that meant cameras and cops. Kuruk would have to be an idiot to mess with her on campus and he was not a fool. No, this had definitely been a scouting trip. That meant she would not be here after hours or by herself. She was not going to get set up this time.
*
Ray pulled up and Layla groaned. Figures, she thought. He rode a bike. A fast-looking, oh-my-god-I’m-gonna-die bike. This was going to be a first. She had never been on a motorcycle before but she had a feeling it was not going to be a ride she would enjoy. Brett’s car would be so much better than a damn bike. On the other hand, she would get to press her body up against Ray’s to hold on and who knew where that might lead. She caught herself and grimaced. This was not what this date—outing—was about; they were supposed to be friends having fun.
He rested his foot at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the main building as he balanced the bike. The stone steps offered the perfect area to mount. She walked towards him hesitantly and he arched an eyebrow.
“Never done this before?” he asked, continuing to balance one leg against the steps.
“No,” she shook her head ruefully. “And honestly, I am terrified.”
He laughed and tugged at her hand. “It’s not that bad, promise. Just lean with me, hold on tight and you will be fine.”
“Wear this.” He handed her a helmet and leaned towards her, his eyes intently on hers. “I promise I won’t let you go.”
Blushing slightly at his charm, she smiled and grabbed his hand, allowing him to seat her onto the bike. The rumbling of the machine beneath her made her nervous. It was bigger than she had thought and she squeezed her knees against the leather and chrome before she wrapped her arms around Ray’s stomach.
“Hey, not too tight.” He patted her arm. “You’ll be fine.” He revved the engine and took off.
Layla opened her mouth to answer him and gasped as the bike jerked away. She was sure she’d left her stomach somewhere on the front steps of Gulfport College.
*
Brett brushed aside the cobwebs that threatened to engulf him and walked the length of the store again, his hands dusty from touching the jackets of books probably last touched during the war of 1812. He moved back to the front of the store, which was a cross between a tourist trap and a new age mecca haven. Trinkets lined every shelf and he doubted they were as real and authentic as the signs claimed.
The weathered woman tending the register, whose dark hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, reminded him of a grandmother. Not because she was old. Hell, Martin was old as time but Brett didn’t see him as a grandfather. There was something about her that was more matronly, more motherly than he would have thought.
His mind flickered briefly to his grandparents. He had never met either pair; both sets of grandparents had died before he was born. The most he’d seen were pictures and even those were too weathered and expressionless for him to really understand the people who had raised his parents. Yet somehow he felt she would be the kind of grandmother he would’ve loved.
Paula Cohen. The name was written in the journal as a contact. He had been surprised to find the woman still alive and at the same address listed. It was a little disconcerting, especially when she had taken one look at him and told him to wait until the store closed. It was as if she already knew what he wanted and he hadn’t said a word.
Instead, he had browsed the little shop in the heart of downtown St. Augustine. It was doing brisk business, the doors wide open to welcome the constant stream of visitors and buyers. He glanced at his watch and sat on a little bench across from the register. It was near closing time. Even Paula glanced at the clock hanging above the door and then at him. Her lips twisted into a semblance of a smile.
Suddenly, her face clouded. She looked toward the door and slowly backed away. Instantly, Brett was on his feet as two men walked into the little store. Menace rolled of them like hurricane driven waves and he knew what they were instantly. Werewolf. On guard, he looked around for a weapon, his eyes lighting on the various glass trinkets and rolled his shoulders as he realized he would have to take care of this problem the old fashioned way.
Paula’s hands fluttered as she walked backwards away from the men, her eyes darting to and fro. The men walked towards her, their faces feral and lean and they ignored Brett, which gave him an advantage. He pushed the old woman behind him and glared at the two wolves.
“This is none of your concern.” The one nearest to him growled.
He smiled. “The way I see it, two grown ass men ganging up on an old woman is my concern.”
The werewolf snarled at him; traces of his wolf just underneath his skin. Even though he was still human, he was damn close to transforming. These two were wild, almost savage.
He stared at the wolf, testing him; his eyes locked in a war of wills. The wolf looked away almost instantly, his eyes refusing to meet Brett’s.
A tingle of fear rolled down Brett’s spine. It was not acquiescence that made the wolf look away, it was simply the way of the wolf; not making eye contact. Pack wolves deferred to the alpha by lowering their heads and tails and deflecting their eyes. These wolves refused to make eye contact at all. Which meant they had been in the wild too long. And an untamed wolf was a dangerous wolf.
He straightened, slowly releasing the tension from his body, unwilling to let them see his apprehension. Normally, two Weres no problem, but feral ones? He wasn’t so sure. They would fight to the death and they would fight dirty. And he would have to risk everything to protect Paula and the information she guarded.
Widening his stance let the wolves know he meant business. One of the animals allowed his fangs to descend and grinned wickedly at Brett. He smiled. This was the intimidation part. If he had no knowledge of Werewolves, this was where he would be running out the door, screaming like a punk.
The two Weres looked at each other quickly as Brett stood his ground and their eyes narrowed. He flexed his hands as the Weres started to transform.
“We have come for the old woman. Stand aside!”
Brett shook his head. “Over my dead body.”
The wolf smiled and Brett steeled himself. Suddenly the wolf lunged and Brett stepped lithely out of the way, twisting and turning as the wolf crashed into a table filled with glass pendants. He moved again as the other wolf swiped at him and delivered a punch to the wolf’s abdomen, sinking his fist deep and the wolf howled as he felt the full force of Brett’s blow.
Mission temporarily forgotten, the wolves focused on him and moved towards him as one. Brett rolled out of the way and grabbed the smallest one by the neck. He squeezed hard, cutting the wolf’s supply of oxygen and blood from his carotid artery. In moments, the wolf hung limp. He dropped the decommissioned werewolf and smiled at the other one, eyeing Paula as she slid behind the
counter.
“Come on, big boy,” he taunted and waited as the wolf roared and attacked, his jaws snapping. Brett took a step forward; his hand curled into a fist and met the wolf halfway. He put the force of his body behind the blow and the wolf stopped cold, his jaw cracked as he fell to the floor and writhed in pain.
Brett smiled triumphantly. “That’s what you get for messing with an old woman.” He turned to Paula and stopped short, his eyes on the receiving end of the double barrel shotgun.
“I don’t know what the hell you are, but you have two seconds to get the hell off my property.”
He raised his hands slowly, his eyes locked with hers. “Paula. I am James Black’s son. I mean you no harm.” The shotgun came closer and he moved backwards cautiously.
“The James I knew couldn’t fight no werewolf barehanded, much less two!”
Brett took a deep breath. If she knew about the Werewolves and his father’s role as a Protector, perhaps she knew about Mai-coh as well. “Yeah, but my father didn’t get bit by a werewolf.”
“Bull!” She cocked the gun and his hands went higher. “If you had been bit by a Were, you would be dead!”
“True,” he nodded. “I don’t have the gene, so I should be dead. But Mai-coh found me and gave me his blood. That saved my life.”
Her eyes widened and she lowered the gun slightly. “Mai-coh gave you his blood? And it worked?” The gun clattered onto the countertop as she grabbed Brett’s face between her hands. “It’s time. She’s here!”
Brett freed his face from her firm grip. “Time for what? And what do we do about them?” he asked, looking at the two Weres on the floor.
Paula glanced down and grimaced. “Every once in a while, I get attacked by the Weres. I’m like a magnet, drawing them to me. I can only do what I must.” She leaned over and touched the foreheads of the two werewolves and muttered a few incoherent words. It started slowly, but after a few moments, the two werewolves transformed back into men, their semi-naked bodies sprawled on the floor.
“What did you do?” He stared at her and then at the two men—human men—on the floor. There was no way she should have been able to turn them back, it was something only the wolf could do. “What are you?”
She smiled. “I am the Peacekeeper. My job is to protect the innocents from the wolf. I can only do that by caging their wolves. This is why they fear me. This is why they try to hunt me. But I am old now and the last of my line. They have killed all the others.” She moved behind the counter, grabbed the shotgun and placed it back in its hiding place. “This is why it is so important that the Hania is here.”
“The Hania? How do you know?”
“The Power Prophecy.”
Paula grabbed a key and walked quickly to the door, closing and locking it and lowering the blinds. “The prophecy states that in the time of the Hania, there will be one of Mai-coh’s blood but not of his seed who will receive the key and live. That has to be you.”
Brett shook his head. “Wait, wait. How do you know it is me?”
She looked over at him as she picked through the rubble of the store. “You just told me.”
“Yeah, but I could’ve been lying.”
“Were you?” she glared at him, her brown eyes hard and flat.
Brett sighed, “No.”
“Then you are a part of the prophecy.” A cheap painting of the state of Florida was removed it to reveal a safe. Opening it, she pulled a sheaf of paper and a few boxes from it and placed everything out on the counter before giving one of the boxes to Brett.
“What is it?” he asked as he moved closer.
“What you came for.” She deftly opened the box to reveal a braided armband. “The bracelet of Mai-coh’s beloved, the mother of the Weres.”
*
Layla held on tightly as the bike whizzed along I-4. She had finally figured out a system. If she closed her eyes and prayed to every deity she remembered from her freshman world religions class, she would be fine. She would even throw in a few angels to be on the safe side and was currently working her way through her list of Catholic Saints to keep her safe.
Ray zoomed around a car and even with her eyes closed, she felt the closeness of the vehicle traveling beside them. She squeezed her eyes tighter and clutched at his shirt. If she got through this, she was renting a car for the return trip.
She had imagined they would be laughing and flirting as they made their way towards Orlando but Ray was more of a speed demon than she had realized and he seemed determined to make his way to the city in half the time. She did not dare look at her watch. It was all she could do to keep her stomach from hurling up her meager lunch.
Finally, he started to slow and she let out the breath she had been holding. They turned off the interstate and onto an exit road before he pulled into a gas station and stopped.
Layla released her death grip on him; her fingers cramped and lowered her legs to the gravelly road.
“Hey, watch out for the—!”
Too late, the heat of the burn seared through her and she jerked her leg away from the tail pipe. She winced and closed her eyes at the onslaught as her leg registered the white hot pain.
Ray grabbed her arm. “You okay?”
Was he out of his damn mind? Of course she wasn’t okay. He had nearly killed her on the ride here and now his machine from hell was trying to burn her flesh off. She smiled tightly. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Sorry about that.” He leaned over to examine her leg and rolled up the bottoms of her skinny jeans. The skin was red and angry and Layla winced when his fingers prodded it.
“Sorry.” He apologized again and held up his hands as she glared at him.
“Don’t worry about it,” she lied unconvincingly. “I’m good.” Her mind on 1000 ways to kill him and dispose of the body, she grabbed her purse and hobbled into the store to buy a tube of cream to rub on the burn.
As the cashier rang up her purchases, she became aware of one of the men in the store staring at her. She turned and stared back, annoyed when he continued to look at her.
“What?” she snapped, uncharacteristically moody.
“You know,” he drawled, “you look just like them girls that’s been killed.”
Tell me something I don’t know, she thought and smiled at him. “Yeah, I know.”
He continued to stare at her, his lower lip jutting out from the wad of dip he had tucked there, the rest in the can clutched in his hand. “You best be careful. FBI says it’s a serial killer and they don’t know what he wants. Last time we had us a serial killer was that prostitute who was killing all them men.”
He squinted at her. You ain’t no prostitute now, are you?”
Before she could open her mouth, she sensed Ray behind her.
“No, she’s not. She’s my girlfriend and right now you are being a pain in the ass.”
The old man grunted and turned back to his purchases.
She had never more grateful to see him; in fact, she was inclined to forgive him for trying to kill her earlier. Thanking the cashier, she asked for the bathroom key, determined to clean up before she got back on that bike. Her leg was on fire, her ass throbbed, completely numb and her chapped lips felt like they were about to crack. So far, this ‘date’ was not turning out as planned. The evening air was nice and cool and she unzipped her jacket as she walked outside. She headed around the side of the building into the bathroom and carefully locking the door behind her. She was in the middle of nowhere and was not going to be captured by some inbred redneck family to breed with their slow cousin or whatever atrocities they did out here in the backwoods. Not today.
Splashing a handful of water on her face seemed to revitalize her a bit and she scrubbed at her teeth. She didn’t want to know if those black spots were bugs because it would gross her out even more than she already was. After rinsing her mouth again, she applied a ton of lip balm and tried to ignore the flaking skin.
Tentatively, she rubbed the ointment
onto her leg and grimaced as she noticed how red and sensitive the area had become. If she could transform, she could heal faster, but why the hell would she want to do that? Or better yet, how would she explain that to Ray?
She readjusted her clothes and hair, determined to make it through this experience as she had all her life. As a human. The one thing she was never going to do once she got back home was ride a damn motorcycle. A car worked quite fine for her. She pulled her phone out of her purse and checked it. No missed calls. A text from her aunt that she quickly replied to and a text from Brett.
“Have to spend another day. Sorry. Love you.”
He was spending another day away and with no explanation as to what he was doing and why; imagine that. She reread the note, her eyes hard.
*
Layla sighed. She had to admit that once they got to Orlando, the evening was going a lot better than she had thought it would. They had parked at one of the theme parks and were now walking along the perimeter. Tons of shops and eateries made the walk fun and although she was a Native Floridian, she had never really taken the tourist route before.
Enthralled by all the different vendors, hocking everything from theme park paraphernalia to food, drinks and even natural made products, she moved from store to store, her interest piqued at some of the more morbid and weird tourist items.
When Ray grabbed her hand, she hesitated, but secretly reveled in the envious glances she got from other girls. It a bit weird though; while it was nice walking with Ray, she wasn’t feeling the overall weak in the knees, I just have to have you syndrome she always felt around him. It was more like hanging out with a good pal than with a romantic interest.
They walked toward the movie theatre and bought tickets to a show. It was one of those slap-stick silly comedies about boy meeting girl, falling in love and doing something stupid which meant having to prove himself. She loved it. The characters’ antics had her snorting with laughter on more than one occasion and by the time the movie ended she was euphoric.
Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) Page 10