Hunter's Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  “No.” Jason shook his head wildly. “My parents gave me up. You can’t be my father.”

  Joshua sighed heavily and lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment’s ringing silence. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” He gave a dry chuckle and shook his head.

  Jason’s body shook with combined emotions of rage, hurt and confusion. He clenched his fists, tried to calm his racing heart.

  “You can’t be my father,” Jason said again. “That’s not true.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t even expect you to like me, but it’s true.” Joshua paused, watching Jason.

  Jason took a step back. His pack slid from his shoulder and hit the sidewalk with a soft thud. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t fucking believe it.”

  “Please, don’t use that language,” Joshua said softly. He continued to watch Jason. “Please, just listen to me. Let me explain, let me talk to you, and when I’m done, you can decide. You can choose whether you want to meet with me again, or we go our separate ways.”

  Jason considered it. His trembling subsided. He felt a wave of calm wash over him. He wouldn’t accept it just yet, but he could listen at least. He started to nod.

  “Okay,” he answered quietly. “I’ll listen to what you have to say. But I’m not calling you ‘dad’.”

  Joshua Conner allowed a little bit of a smile to spread across his face. “I wouldn’t ask you to. Let me buy you something to eat. We can talk over dinner.”

  Jason’s stomach grumbled at the suggestion. He couldn’t pass up his first meal in a few days. He agreed to it, grabbing up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder again. Together, they crossed the street and entered the diner.

  The place was brightly lit and semi empty. A couple sat in a booth near the front. A man was at the counter, having a cup of coffee. Otherwise, the place was theirs. Joshua chose a place near the back.

  They stared at each other in silence as they waited for their server. Jason ordered a large meal. He was starving. The smells wafting from the kitchen made his stomach gurgle and growl even more. Joshua ordered only coffee, black. He waited until the waitress walked away before he began.

  He opened his mouth to start, but shut it immediately. He seemed to consider something for a moment, then reached into his jacket. From an inside pocket he withdrew an envelope. He opened it slowly and withdrew several sheets of paper from it. Jason watched him, curious.

  “What’s all that?”

  “It’s the proof,” Joshua said. He slid one of the papers toward Jason, face down on the table. He hesitated before picking it up. He turned it over.

  “This is—” He paused, reading over it. “This is my birth certificate.”

  “Yes. It came into my possession a short while ago,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I brought it with me because I figured I would need the proof. So you see it’s true.”

  “My mother,” Jason touched her printed name. “Where is she?”

  “The last I heard, she died, in an institution, right after you were born.”

  “An institution?” His eyebrows shot up quickly. “She was crazy?”

  “No, not crazy.” Joshua shook his head, looking very sad. “Troubled. It’s a long story.”

  Jason was amazed, shocked. He stared at the paper. It was all true. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with it all. He sat there, clutching the paper in his sweaty palms, as the tears began to fall. He started to sob, doing his best to keep it quiet.

  Joshua let him cry it out, shooing the server away when she came close to their table. When the tears had dried, Jason looked back down at the paper.

  “So you’re really my father.”

  “Yes. There is so much I have to tell you, so much.” There were tears in his father’s eyes, but he was smiling.

  The food arrived shortly and Jason ate hungrily, now and again staring up at his father. He felt a strange peace come over him. They talked for hours after he was done with his food. He learned that Joshua was married and had another son, though Joshua seemed reluctant to mention much about his current family.

  That night, they departed with promises to meet the next Friday. Jason was going to meet the rest of his family. Though he felt a bit apprehensive still, he was excited. He waited anxiously that week.

  But Friday came and went and Jason realized quickly that his father was never returning. Again and again, he looked at the other piece of paper he had given him. It had directions to his home a few towns away. Jason waited, unable to bring himself to go to that place. Weeks melted into months, the months became years and still Jason received no word. He grew bitter, hating his father for never returning, for breaking promises.

  Finally he gathered the courage to confront him. He went to the address, only to find the place gone, burned, empty. His father was gone and so was any trace of him.

  After that, Jason never really trusted anyone. It took years before he was able to do so, and by then he had grown hard and bitter. Remembering it all now, Jason was reminded how angry he had been. It was the same feeling he had now.

  As he slowly slipped out of his reverie, he began to realize how stupid he had been, how clouded he had been all along. He should’ve recognized the name Conner right off the bat. He should’ve known then, when he first knew Simon’s last name.

  Conner. It was so obvious. It was right there. Anger does strange things to people. It clouds judgment and truth. It blinds.

  Glen’s footsteps pounded loudly on the stairs as he climbed them and Jason gave a shake of his head. He had to clear his thoughts. He needed his focus.

  “Jason!” Glen burst into the room. “Didn’t you hear me? There was a call. The ID said it was from Rose’s cell.”

  “Did you answer it?”

  “No.” Glen look flustered, scared. Jason could smell the scent. It was sickening.

  “Why not? She might’ve been calling for help.”

  “I don’t know, Jason. I think it was him.”

  Jason felt anger rise. He let it back down with a few deep breaths.

  “We should call back,” he said, in a dark tone. “We have to call back.”

  Glen nodded. “The only working phone is downstairs.”

  Jason didn’t say anything as he brushed by him and started for the stairs. He took them two at a time and reached the downstairs hall in seconds. As his left foot stepped down, he heard a horrible crunching beneath his boot. He stopped and looked down.

  He lifted his foot slowly. On the floor lay a broken silver chain and two rings, one golden and one silver, set with three small diamonds. Rose’s rings…it was her necklace.

  Glen spotted it at the same time. He was just a few steps behind Jason. He stopped.

  “Oh,” he said, “Are those—?”

  “Yes,” Jason choked on the words.

  “They must’ve broken off,” Glen said. Jason knelt to retrieve them. His fingers barely touched the wedding ring when he suddenly felt dizzy. The room began to spin around him and his head hurt. He felt a lurch in his stomach. Glen’s voice faded into the background.

  Black images swirled black before his eyes. They took shape and he saw her. Rose lay on something that looked like a dirty mattress. Her clothes were bloody and her skin was pale. He saw her mouth drop open as she cried out in pain. The cry grew louder until it was a shriek.

  He could feel it. The scream was like pain itself. It tore through his head. It broke him. He had never felt anything as excruciating. Not even the pain of getting shot and left for dead could rival this torture.

  Suddenly, the blackness was gone and he was back in the PRDI. Glen was standing over him. Concern clouded his face.

  “Jason, are you okay? What happened?”

  “I—I don’t know. I saw…things.”

  Glen blinked at him. Jason realized he was on the floor, laying there. He didn’t know how it
happened. Glen offered a hand to help him up and Jason took it. He felt dizzy when he stood. He reeled. Glen grabbed his arm.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. You were there one moment, grabbing the necklace from the floor, then you were staring out into nothing. Your eyes were all glazed over. Then you started to scream. It was like—like you were having a vision.”

  “A vision? No, it couldn’t—”

  “I’ve grown up at the PRDI. I’ve seen others have visions before. That’s what it was. I know it.” Glen paused, then whispered, “What did you see?”

  “Rose,” Jason said. He looked down at his hand. It was closed into a tight fist. He opened it and stared at the necklace and rings in his palm. “I saw her and she was in pain. A lot of pain.”

  “What happened?” Davis’s voice came from upstairs. They looked up to see him standing at the top of the stairs. His face was still ashen and he looked wan, used-up. “I heard screaming. Did something happen?”

  Glen was about to say something when the shrill ringing of the telephone startled them all. Jason quickly turned toward the phone. It continued to ring.

  Ignoring Davis’s question and the vision momentarily forgotten, Jason crossed the floor. His hand closed around the rings again, holding them so tightly they cut into his flesh. As he had expected, the caller ID flashed Rose’s cell number.

  His free hand hesitated over the phone. He glanced back at Glen. He appeared anxious. Davis had begun to descend the steps, pausing just behind him.

  “Answer it,” Glen said. Jason didn’t need the coaxing. He knew it was Simon. He could feel it, sense it. His hand closed around the phone. It stopped in mid-ring as he lifted it and held it to his ear.

  He didn’t have to say a word. The caller on the other end, most assuredly not Rose, began to speak.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’ve been waiting for someone to answer,” Simon began. “It’s about time.” His voice grated beneath Jason’s skin. He gripped the phone tightly. Simon chuckled and Jason felt his entire body tense at the sound.

  “Where’s Rose? What have you done to her?”

  “Did you like my handiwork?” Simon asked. “I think I did a pretty good job.”

  “With what? Destroying my home, or murdering Claire?”

  Again came that horrible laugh and it took a lot of Jason’s self-control to keep from snapping the phone in half in his hand.

  Davis had taken a few steps forward. Without saying a word, he crossed the next few steps and pressed a button on the phone set. Simon’s voice echoed throughout the hall as the speakerphone came on. Davis glared at the phone set.

  “I have to admit, I was surprised at how well I accomplished both. Did you like it? Did it send out the right message?” The sarcasm was thick.

  “Where’s Rose? What have you done to her? Where is she?” Jason asked through clenched teeth, ignoring what Simon said. He forced himself to keep the wolf at bay. It wasn’t easy.

  “She’s alive, if that’s what you’re wondering. She’s alive and I plan on keeping it that way. It wouldn’t do me any good if she’s dead. So, tell me, brother, how did you take the news? I’m assuming you didn’t know—”

  “Shut up!” Jason yelled. He did crush the phone in his grip, but he no longer needed it to be heard. He held what was left of it—shards of broken plastic—and tried not to let it go. He cast a glance toward Davis.

  The half-blood shook visibly. His hands, clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists, drew back as if to strike. But Jason couldn’t focus on him. He turned his attention back to the phone set on the table, glaring as if it were Simon in the flesh. He dropped what was left of the phone onto the floor.

  Simon laughed. Jason couldn’t stand it. He took a deep breath as the sound echoed around them.

  Davis edged toward the phone. Glen grabbed his shoulder but he shrugged it away.

  “Shut up,” Jason repeated, somewhat calmer.

  “But you know now,” Simon continued as if there had never been an outburst. They could all hear the cruelty and hate in his voice. “You know that my father is your father and we’re brothers. Half-brothers,” he added, as if that changed the fact that they shared the same blood.

  Davis’s look of anger was quickly replaced with confusion. He stared at Jason, mouth dropping open slightly.

  “Brothers?” he squeaked. Glen once more grabbed his shoulder and drew him back. This time Davis didn’t fight him.

  “You missed a whole page there, my friend,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll explain later.”

  “That doesn’t change anything,” Jason said between clenched teeth. “That doesn’t change what you have done. It changes nothing.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Simon did growl. “I still want you dead.”

  “Likewise.”

  “So where do we finish this? More importantly, when? I can’t wait much longer.”

  Jason felt a chill speed up his spine at the words. He turned his eyes toward Glen and Davis. They were watching him with matching looks of apprehension. Jason knew, somehow, what they were thinking. It was the same thought that hit him suddenly.

  This is it. This is the end of the road. The final showdown. It’s now or never. One of us is going to die. He felt a surge of adrenaline suddenly. It burned through him, spurring him on. He clenched his bloody hand into a tight ball. His other hand was still closed tightly around the necklace.

  He thought of Rose, remembering the vision. He had felt her pain. He had seen her as if he was there. That, more than anything, angered him. It wasn’t as if he could forget what Simon had done to others of his kind, what he had done to him. These things were unforgivable, but what he had done to Rose…Jason couldn’t even put it into emotion how bad it was.

  “The sooner, the better,” he answered, tensely.

  “Fine with me,” Simon echoed.

  They were silent. For a moment, Jason thought Simon had hung up, but he heard breathing and muffled sounds in the background. He was still there, contemplating.

  “You killed Claire,” Davis said suddenly, in a voice so low and dark that it shocked them all. Jason turned. Davis’s eyes had glazed over yellow. Jason could imagine he smelled the anger. It was acrid, like something spoiled or soured in the heat. “You killed her.”

  “Davis?” Simon sounded confused. “Is that you?”

  “You damn well better believe it’s me.”

  “So that’s where you went to.” Simon was on the verge of laughter. “You’ve sunk that low as to become part of their pack permanently? Some things never change.”

  Davis ignored the goading. “You killed Claire.”

  “She had it coming, the little bitch. I warned her before. It was only a matter of time.”

  “You—you killed her!” He began to sputter. His words became incoherent. He broke down again. His sobs racked his chest, shook his shoulders. He could no longer speak. He could only shake as he stood there.

  There was a split second of silence from Simon’s end of the line, but it was enough. He knew their relationship, understood Davis’s anger. Then the laughter began. It ranged over Davis’s sobs. It lifted to an almost hysterical, high-pitched quality—the laughter of a true madman. Glen glared at the phone set.

  “Oh, that’s too precious.” Simon burst out between gales of laughter. “That’s so sweet. Davis and Claire. Oh! Was she good, Davis?” He could barely get the words out. “I would’ve imagined her frigid.” His laughter rang. “How long did it take her to give it up?”

  Davis let out an anguished cry. His legs gave out and he sank to the floor. It was too much for him.

  “Enough!” Glen shouted

  Simon finally began to calm down and his laughter became nothing more than choking coughs. Jason knew he had laughed until he cried, but he hadn’t noticed anything quite so funny in what had transpired. Davis remained seated on the floor. He no longer sobbed. He stared at the broken phone receiver o
n the floor, but Jason knew he wasn’t really seeing it.

  “That’s enough, Simon,” he said. “Let’s get this shit over with. I’m anxious to see you dead.”

  Glen nodded, agreeing with him.

  All seriousness returned, Simon’s voice changed quickly. “Fine,” he said darkly. “We’re going to do this on my ground.”

  Jason felt a slight twinge of fear and he quickly looked to Glen. His eyes mirrored Jason’s apprehension. That would give Simon the upper hand, if he was to choose where it all went down. He could use it to his advantage.

  “You don’t have much choice,” Simon reminded them. “I have your precious mate and if I might say so, she’s not doing too well.”

  “What have you done to her?” Glen exploded, angrily.

  “You’re Glen Cole, head of the PRDI. I was having trouble placing your voice. Good job on your promotion. I always knew you had it in you.”

  “Fuck you. What have you done to Rose?” Jason spat out. He and Glen were both poised, ready to unleash hell upon Simon, until they realized they could do nothing yet but yell at the speakerphone.

  “She’ll live. That’s more than I can say for you. I’m tired of playing this little game. I want it over and done with, so are we in agreement or not? We play on my ground or not at all.”

  “Goddamn it.” Jason barely breathed. They really didn’t have much of a choice. He looked to Glen for advice, but he looked just as lost.

  “Well?”

  Glen sighed and moved closer to Jason. He leaned in and spoke softly. “We have to do it. He really has us backed into a corner here.”

  “He’s bluffing. He won’t hurt Rose. We know that.”

  “No, Jason, you’re wrong. He won’t kill Rose, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt her.”

  Jason felt a lump drop into his stomach. Glen was right.

  “What do we do?”

  “We have to do it.”

  “Have we reached a decision yet?” Simon broke in, his voice sounding a bit distorted through the speaker box. Glen sighed and nodded to Jason.

  “I want to talk to Rose.”