Hunter's Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  “You’re not in any situation to make demands,” Simon reminded him, coolly.

  “I want to talk to Rose. Put her on the phone.”

  Simon sighed. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Glen burst out.

  “Put Rose on the phone or no deal,” Jason said at the exact moment, louder.

  A low growl filled the downstairs hall of the PRDI. Simon cursed loudly. “Do you want me to break her other leg?”

  Cold washed over Jason, followed by the heat of anger. He tried to quell it. He shook badly. Glen reached for him, but he held off a hand to signal him back. He didn’t need him.

  “Let me talk to her, Simon. I need to know if she’s alive. I am not taking your word for it.” He spoke slowly, trying to keep calm. He waited for Simon’s answer.

  “You want to know if she’s still alive? Fine. I can do that.” There was a moment of silence, followed by shuffling. Jason furrowed his brow, trying to listen over the raging beat of his heart.

  He heard voices next, Simon’s was loudest and closest to the phone. He spoke, but Jason couldn’t make out the words.

  There was a soft sound, like a moan.

  Rose.

  He heard her cry out in pain, but it was muffled. He jumped without thinking.

  He heard Simon speak in a mocking tone, “Rose, your mate wants to speak to you. Think you can manage that?”

  “Jason? Jason, please!” She was on the phone suddenly. Her voice was desperate. He could hear the pain. She was crying. “Jason, please, you have to help me. He killed Claire. He—No!”

  “Rose!”

  Simon had wrenched the phone away from her, a predictable move they should’ve expected. Jason could hear her still screaming in the background. His anger welled. It was about to explode.

  No, he told the wolf. Now is not the time. Save it. Save it for the fight later.

  “Now you know she’s alive. Is that what you wanted?”

  “You know what I want. I want you dead. Where?”

  Simon laughed. “It’s day. We can’t do this where we will be seen. We’ll wait for night and then we’ll meet in a secluded little place—”

  “Where?” Jason was getting impatient. He could imagine Simon grinning. He closed his eyes to shut the image away but to no avail. He could still hear her in his mind, even though she was silent now.

  Simon’s chuckle shortly followed. Jason listened as he rattled off an all too familiar address. His entire body became tense.

  “What is it?” Glen asked. He had just pulled Davis to his feet and now both men stared at him.

  “I know the place,” Jason spoke, to Simon, to all of them. “I know where it is.”

  “Good,” Simon said. “Then it won’t be hard for you to find. Come there at night. No weapons. We finish this like wolves, like it’s meant to be finished. I won’t tell you to come alone. I know you won’t do it, but this fight is between us.”

  Davis tensed beneath the hand Glen had clamped onto his shoulder. Jason nodded, though Simon couldn’t see it.

  “All right,” he said.

  “And don’t think you can pull a fast one on me. You won’t. You can’t, because I will be ready. After dark. See you there, brother.”

  The phone went silent. They stared at it waiting for some final remark, but there was nothing. Glen shut the machine off.

  “Are you going to do it?” he asked, looking over at Jason. Jason uncurled his hand from around the necklace. The chain slipped out of his fingers, but he held tightly to the rings.

  “I have to. He has Rose. She’s in pain. You heard her.” He looked up at Glen. Davis stood just an inch or so behind him. The looks on their faces were clear. They were afraid.

  “We’re coming with you,” Glen immediately announced.

  “But you’re not fighting him alone,” Davis said. “I’m helping. I want a piece of him.”

  Jason looked at Davis for a long time. Suddenly, he felt weary. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “I won’t argue with you right now, Davis, because there are more important things we need to do.” He opened his eyes and glanced over at Glen. “Make whatever phone calls you need to.” He looked down at what was left of the phone receiver. “Use the speakerphone. We have to get going, soon. It will be night before we get there if we don’t leave now.”

  “How do you know the place?” Glen asked. Jason shot him a withering look, but Glen didn’t back down.

  “It’s a long story,” he finally sighed. “I’ll have to tell you on the way.”

  * * *

  Simon snapped the cell phone shut with one hand and stared down at it for a long time. The silver phone was stained with blood. It smeared across the screen, distorting the colorful background. He then dropped it to the floor and crushed it under his foot.

  The metal and plastic splintered, leaving the intricate entrails of microchips and technology spilling out from it. Rose was aware just enough to know what he had done, but not strong enough yet to respond with anything other than a soft whimper.

  He had hit her after tearing the phone from her and the blow to the side of her head had rattled her. A normal human could’ve easily been killed, but not Rose. Her full-blood healing kicked into overdrive and she was waking out of a stupor that should’ve left her out for a while.

  Her eyes went in and out of focus but she was soon able to keep her gaze affixed on the floor long enough to see her shattered phone. She almost let out a sob, but she held it back. Simon had his back to her. He didn’t know she was awake yet.

  At one point, she had thought her cell phone would be her saving grace. She had it on her this time, unlike any of the other times she had been kidnapped. That thought was quickly dashed when she came to and realized it was no longer in her possession. There had been a little hope, though, of retrieving it back, but only a little. Now, all hope was gone. She sat up, suppressing a groan at the throbbing pain in her broken leg and stared at what was left of her phone as dust settled around it in the dismal light of the basement.

  Suddenly, she began to cry. It started out first as hot, silent tears but quickly turned into sobs.

  She had felt despair like this before, and she had nearly broke then. She didn’t like thinking about how three years ago, Jason had almost died—she had thought he was dead—and she had been lucky to escape, thanks to Claire.

  She was crying for Claire, for Jason, but mostly for herself. She had reached the breaking point. The stress had been too intense. There was so much that had happened, so much she had kept in. She couldn’t handle it any more.

  Sobs shook her shoulders and finally came out of her in coughs. Simon turned, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked at her with a blank face. She would get no sympathy from him and even if she had, she wouldn’t have taken it. She didn’t need his pity.

  Somehow, thinking of sympathy made her feel worse and she fell back down on the dingy mattress that still smelled of sex. Though it pained her to move, she rolled away—she didn’t want to look at him—and finished crying with her back facing him.

  Once the sobs had subsided and she was only sniffling, Simon spoke up. His voice was clear and without emotion.

  “They will be coming tonight,” he said. Rose moved with a little difficulty to look at him. He hadn’t moved, his arms folded over his chest. He was still naked, dried blood and dirt caked his skin. His eyes were golden, luminous in the shadows that masked his face.

  “I hope he kills you,” she said to him, her voice barely a whisper. “I hope he rips your throat out.”

  A thin smile spread across his face. He vaguely shook his head. There was something about his aloofness that unsettled her. She felt her skin crawl, the hair on her arms stand on end. She watched him, waiting for him to do something, anything, but he never moved.

  “We have a few hours,” he said finally and his smile broke into his classic grin. “We’ll see who kills who then.”

  “I hope it’s you,”
she whispered in a trembling voice. She didn’t like his tone. That’s when she knew it was all a trap. He was luring them there, for something big. She was cold suddenly, cold and scared.

  “We’ll see,” was all he said. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It took them longer than expected to get ready. When they finally left the PRDI, the sun was just beginning to set. It had taken a while for the PRDI “clean-up” crew to arrive to handle Claire’s body. She was gone now, taken to a local morgue until a later time. The room had been cleaned out, gutted, sprayed down. Jason hadn’t seen it yet, but he wondered if there would be in lasting remnants: a drop of blood here or there, something missed by the eyes of the clean-up.

  He dismissed that thought immediately when he looked at Davis. The young man was taking it hard. He wanted to understand, but he couldn’t. Jason couldn’t count all those that had died over the years, but he had never lost any so close as a lover. He had come close several times with Rose, but she wasn’t dead. He couldn’t pretend to know all about how Davis felt, but he knew he wanted revenge. He could feel it, sense it.

  The three of them finally left the PRDI, walking down the forlorn sidewalk, past the half a dozen or so monuments that served as grim reminders of others gone. Davis walked just behind Jason and he turned once to look at him.

  His face was white, not just pale, but white, and his dark hair clung to his forehead with sweat. His gray eyes seemed brighter, more punctuated with yellow than before. Jason knew what a pull revenge could have on a person. He still felt it and had held onto it for years. He was beginning to think it would never let go.

  He hoped he was wrong this time. He hoped they would end it tonight. He had thought about it for a long while as they waited for the clean-up to arrive and had decided that he couldn’t fight Simon alone. Twice he had faced him, and twice he had almost died. The last fight had been a fluke—he had only won because Rose had distracted Simon. If it had gone differently, he would’ve died.

  Jason was sure this time would be no different, but he was more prepared. He had considered calling Cheyenne and the kids, but there wouldn’t be enough time. Glen was willing to back him up and Davis was absolutely adamant. He wanted a piece of Simon as much as Jason, perhaps more, but as Glen had pointed out: two half-bloods still could not defeat a full-blood. They would need his help as well. And he would be damned if he would sit by this time while Rose suffered.

  So they had a half-baked plan and not much else. Glen led the way to the van parked in front of the building, his keys jingling as he pulled them out of his pocket. No one said a single word. None of them felt much like talking. One by one they climbed into the van and settled into the seats. Glen started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

  “I hate to think of him waiting for us,” Davis said from the back of the van. He was hunched over, his head between his knees so that his voice was somewhat muffled. He lifted his head and Jason caught his stare in the rearview mirror.

  “Neither do I,” Jason answered. He looked away from Davis’s piercing stare and glanced out the window. They were leaving the residential area of town and heading out into the country. The sky was pink and red, with splashes of purple and blue—twilight colors. Feeling anxious, Jason realized it would be full night before they got there. No, he didn’t like the idea of Simon waiting for them at all.

  “So much for a sneak attack,” Glen spoke up as if reading his mind. He kept his eyes on the road, only glancing over at Jason once.

  “I don’t think a sneak attack would work anyway. Simon’s up to something. He has to be,” Jason replied.

  “You’re probably right.” Davis sighed. “You have to remember, I worked with Simon for over a year. I know how he likes to think. If he knows we’re coming, he’ll have something up his sleeve.”

  “I hate to say it, but you’re right.” Jason looked down at the necklace and rings still clutched in his hand. What would Simon do? There was no way to predict his mad thoughts, but he couldn’t let it go. He sighed heavily and slipped the chain and rings into his jeans pocket.

  “We need a plan,” Davis said. “We need to figure out what we are going to do.”

  “We always need a plan,” Glen shot back. “And for once, I’m out of ideas.” He cast a sidelong glance at Jason but he didn’t look back. “Any thoughts? You said you knew where we were going. How? I'm still waiting for an explanation.”

  “Yes,” Davis spoke up again, “and I would like to know what the hell is going on with you and Simon—”

  “Davis,” Glen tried to warn, but it was too late. Jason had already spun around in his seat. His gaze was livid, but Davis didn’t squirm.

  “What about me and Simon?” Jason asked, tensely. “What about it?”

  “Brothers?” Davis supplied, “I don’t remember that ever being an issue.”

  “It’s not an issue,” Jason said, coldly. “He’s not my brother, no matter what blood we share.”

  “And what blood would that be?” Davis wasn’t about to stop. Jason immediately recognized that same stubbornness. He felt the same way and he knew too well it was a front, a mask. Davis was devastated. Claire’s death had shaken him in a way he could never recover from. It was understandable that he would hide this. It was just what Jason would do. He was covering up his pain with defensive, relentless interrogation.

  And the snippy comments had to go. He glared at Davis for a while, then sneered.

  “By way of recent discovery,” Jason began to explain, his voice mocking, conveying clearly his annoyance, “I found out that my biological father is also Simon’s father. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Davis’ anger seemed to melt into confusion. “You knew this?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said? No, I didn’t know anything about that. I only met my father once—”

  “What?” Glen hit the brakes, lurching the van forward. Jason braced himself, his hands splayed on the dashboard.

  Jason turned an angry gaze to him. Davis shuffled in the back, returning to his seat after being thrown from it. Car horns blared behind the van, now stopped in the center of the highway. Vehicles swerved around them, but Glen didn’t seem to notice. He stared at Jason with his mouth open.

  “You knew your father? You never told us you knew him.”

  “That’s because I never wanted to bring it up. I didn’t think it was that important.” He yelled back. A truck swerved around them, driver cursing them at the top of his lungs.

  “Not that important?” Glen shouted back. He didn’t pay any attention to the cars passing them. He stared into Jason’s eyes, his own angry—a rare thing for him. “You might have known this all along. You might’ve had the answers to all this.”

  “What answers, Glen? What answers?”

  “I don’t know.” Glen raised his voice. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He let out a hissing breath, trying to calm himself down. The engine idled hard, rocking the van.

  “Look,” Jason began, “I only met him once and that was a long time ago. He was the one who told me about my mother.” He held up a hand to stop Glen from interrupting. “I know I told you I learned it from the foster care system, but that was a lie. Bottom line is, I didn’t know anything then and I don’t know anything now. How was I to know he was my brother? How was I to know we shared a father?”

  “I don’t know.” Glen looked away from Jason and back to the road ahead. He put the car back into gear and glanced in the side and rearview mirrors. He started down the road again, gradually picking up speed.

  “Guess it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about anyway,” Davis added, in a thoughtful voice.

  “You guessed right,” Jason answered, bitterly. He glanced at Davis once then turned his attention back to the road. “I might’ve met him, but I never really knew him.”

  “And this place we’re going?” Glen asked.

  “It’s his home. It’s where they lived, or used to
live. It’s burned out now.” Jason didn’t look at either of them. “I went there, once, after I met him, but there was nothing left. I never heard anything of him again.”

  “The fire,” Davis said, remembering. “Claire—” His voice broke on her name, but he continued, “She found a newspaper article about a fire, they all died in it…”

  Jason didn’t say a word, but his temples flexed as he clenched his teeth.

  Simon was the reason he never saw his father again. Simon was the reason he thought his dad had been a deadbeat father. He felt a pain begin around his heart, but he refrained from grabbing his chest. Years of pain, rejection, heartbreak, came swirling out of the past all at once. It left him reeling, gasping for breath. He felt dizzy and sick, almost how he felt during the vision.

  Closing his eyes, he calmed himself down just enough that he was in control, not his pain. Glen had his attention blissfully diverted to the road. Davis, however, was watching him closely in the reflection of the rearview mirror. Jason scowled at him until he looked away.

  There seemed to be nothing left to say. They drove on in silence, each man immersed in his own thoughts. Night rolled over the horizon and surrounded them in blackness. It would be another couple hours before they got there. They had plenty of time to formulate a plan.

  * * *

  The drop in temperature signaled it was fully night. Simon eyed her cautiously. She still lay on the mattress, her broken leg stretched out. It had healed, but one wrong move, too much weight and it could snap again. A break this serious needed a longer time to heal. She would’ve run for the door, if she knew she could’ve gotten away with it.

  But there were other complications besides her injury. Simon sat against the door, blocking all passage. For what seemed like hours they stared each other down. Neither of them spoke and the tension in the air grew thick. Every movement they made could be taken as a threat. Rose flinched when Simon flicked his cigarette lighter on. Simon tensed when Rose shifted her weight. It was definitely a hostile situation.