Hunter's Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  The black wolf, Simon, turned his attention away from Jason, focusing his nearly closed eyes on Davis. His muzzle pulled back in a snarl, exposing all his teeth.

  Davis threw himself at Simon. Simon growled around Jason’s throat, tearing himself free unwillingly. The gray wolf growled low at him.

  He stared at Davis in surprise, but he did not linger there for long. He jumped forward and began to attack Davis with the same ferocity as he had with Jason. He slashed with his powerful claws and gnashed his teeth.

  Jason watched as he licked his own blood from his muzzle. It sent a fiery shock through him. The pain was intense, but he was still wolf. He was still strong. He turned to watch as Simon’s powerful jaws closed around Davis’s shoulder in an attempt to get at his throat.

  The gray wolf yelped, tail going between his legs as Simon bit down harder. Davis wasn’t as strong. He was about to give up.

  Jason growled loudly and snarled. It got Simon’s attention and he dropped his hold on the lesser wolf and turned to the alpha. A wolfen grin spread on his muzzle, revealing his bloody teeth.

  From behind him, Davis rose, limping only slightly. His golden gaze flickered to Simon, then to Jason. Jason’s stare met his and understanding passed between them. They knew what to do.

  Jason began to circle Simon, lowering his head and growling out his challenge.

  Simon accepted with a growl of his own. His ears lay flat against his skull.

  Davis began to circle him from behind and he snarled as he edged closer.

  With his peripheral vision gone, Simon could only watch one wolf at a time. He first focused his attention on Jason, but then shifted it to Davis as he came closer. Realization seemed to dawn quickly. He knew he was being circled like prey.

  Jason felt a grim satisfaction. It would all be over soon.

  It was an intense moment. The tension built and Glen watched as he held his breath. Rose leaned against him, her eyes glazed over, but she watched as well as she could.

  It was a long moment of circling, slow pacing and low growling before one of them snapped into action. Just as they had wanted, Simon was first to act. He lunged forward, charging at the one he thought would hold the most threat, Jason. It was his last mistake.

  As he bounded forward, Davis charged him from behind. His jaws closed around Simon’s hind leg.

  Jason, who had anticipated this move from the black wolf, was ready. He slashed with his extended claws across Simon’s torso. He found purchase and dug his nails in. He felt ribs crack under the pressure.

  Simon howled in pain. In an instant, he was no longer wolf. Jason’s weight bore down against Simon’s chest, digging deeper into the wounds. Simon screamed.

  Davis tore away from Simon’s leg, removing a sizable chunk of bloody flesh. The meat and muscle dangled from his jaws as he glared at Simon.

  “No! Please,” Simon begged. He couldn’t fight any more. The scents of fear and blood were everywhere. Jason reveled in it all.

  Jason eased the pressure from his chest and leaned down, his muzzle against Simon’s face. His feral eyes stared down at Simon’s face. Simon’s one eye remained locked on him. Jason didn’t need words to tell him it was over, that this was the end. He only needed that look.

  Suddenly, he dug his claws into the fresh wounds and Simon howled in pain. He threw his head back, exposing his throat. Jason clamped his jaws down powerfully on the human neck. He was aware that Davis had locked his own teeth around Simon’s side, biting down and holding on for dear life. But there were no more struggles. Simon uttered a guttural sound, probably a scream, wet in his throat, but it fell silent.

  And Simon died.

  Only when his body no longer twitched did Jason release him. Davis held on a moment longer, then ripped away another piece of flesh as he stood back. A gaping hole formed where Simon’s neck had once been. A single, dull eye stared up at the sky. Blood began to sink into the soil.

  Jason stepped back, licking his muzzle, cleaning it of the blood. He turned his gaze to the sidelines.

  “Jason,” Glen called to him. Rose was in his arms.

  It only took a moment before he was back in his human form. He shuddered and stood, blood covering his body. He walked toward Glen and without word, held his arms out for Rose.

  Glen hesitated, but gave her to him. She slipped easily into her mate’s arms. She was almost weightless but Jason sank to his knees in sheer exhaustion and weakness. He managed to hold her to his bloody chest.

  “It’s over, Rose.”

  But Rose, still very much alive but unconscious, didn’t answer. Her head lolled back, her dark hair matted with blood. Then Jason began to sob with tears of relief and exhaustion. He pressed his forehead to hers and hid their faces from view.

  It was over.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Autumn leaves rustled lightly in the breeze, their orange and red colors showing brightly in the clear day. It was warm for the beginning of November, but to Rose it still felt cold. She shivered, drawing her light jacket around her.

  The lawn of the PRDI safe house was full of chairs, beneath a dark colored canopy that served to block out most of the sun. The seven monuments stared grimly at the rows of chairs, as if on display in some cruel show. It all seemed morbid to Rose. She knew the monuments were there in remembrance of those that had died, but it looked too much like a cemetery.

  She hadn’t wanted to come here, but she felt she owed it to Claire. This was, after all, her memorial service. The pack had shown up, including the kids and a reluctant Davis who never left Glen’s side. It was the first time they had all been assembled together since their last gathering. But Jason hadn’t arrived.

  Since the night of Simon’s death, Jason had been rather distant. Rose had opted to stay at the PRDI with Glen and Davis. After hearing what happened to the cabin, she didn’t want to return to that. Jason had however, and began their true separation.

  That was the last she had seen of Jason and that had been a couple of weeks ago. He called her on the phone now and again, but his voice seemed strained, the conversation forced. It hurt Rose more than she would admit when he called because he felt he had to, not because he wanted to. The thin threads remaining in their relationship were quickly becoming frayed.

  She stood just under the canopy, flexing her hands around the seven white roses she had brought. There was one for each person the monuments represented. Slowly, she walked up the narrow path between the chairs. She glanced over her shoulder.

  The assembled mass of people had already begun to leave. No one really wanted to enter the safe house. It had been deemed “cursed” and “unsafe” and Rose couldn’t blame Glen for finally putting in the order to shut it down. Vehicles roared to life as people began to leave. Some lingered, however, to give their last goodbyes and Glen, always the proper head of the PRDI, thanked them for coming and shook hands expectantly. Davis stood beside him, but he wasn’t paying attention to those who left their condolences. His gaze was focused on Rose.

  She wanted to smile at him, to assure him with that smile that things were all right, but it would’ve been a lie. Instead, she looked away from him and down at the roses in her clutched fist. Again, she stepped forward toward the monuments.

  Claire’s was the newest and Rose stopped there first. She placed one of the roses at the base of the monument and stood slowly.

  “Things were never supposed to have been this way,” she said softly, as if Claire could still hear her, as if it somehow made a difference. “You were a good friend. You did so much for us. Thank you.”

  Claire had done so much for them. After leaving Simon’s party and joining them, it had been Claire’s inheritance that saved the PRDI. Now, it was that same money that would keep the place running. Her will had divided everything up between the PRDI and the pack. It was a large sum, almost enough for them to be considered rich.

  She lingered for a moment at Claire’s headstone, before turning to the others. She l
aid a single flower on the markers of Anna Williams and Gavin Newark, former mentors and teachers she remembered fondly from her youth. Next, was the grave of Mary Robbins, a young woman Rose hardly knew, but had been killed in the Simon’s raid. There was also Lisa Marks, her son, Aidan, and her boyfriend, Todd Nahmad, whom Rose had wrongly been accused of murdering.

  As she placed each rose for them, she thought about how Lisa and Todd’s deaths had set off this chain of events. Everything had started because of Simon. He had been the one to murder them. He had set the plan in motion.

  And he was now dead. Rose had seen his body, had seen it happen. There was no coming back from it this time, she knew. He was really dead.

  She stood up from the last stone and stepped back. Suddenly, she felt sad. She hadn’t cried through the whole memorial, but now she was on the verge of tears. She blinked them back and closed her jacket around her. She glanced back at Glen and Davis, but both men were talking to Pierce, second in command of the PRDI. There was nothing left for her to do but go inside and wait.

  An hour or so before the memorial, Rose had asked Cheyenne for a favor. She had gone and returned only minutes before the service so Rose had to wait to speak with her. Cheyenne was inside.

  Rose stepped into the foyer of the house she had grown up in and stopped. It all seemed so different now. The furnishings in the hall had been removed. The paintings and fixtures on the walls were gone. The place seemed so bare and empty, hollow. Her dress shoes clacked on the hardwood floor as she crossed it.

  The place still smelled of blood, or so Rose thought. It was one of those smells that would linger for a long time. Nausea rose within her for the third time that day, but she was able to will it down this time. Nausea and vomiting had become a problem lately and it was one of the reasons she had sent Cheyenne out on her little task. She headed for the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifted from there.

  “Rose, is that you?” Cheyenne’s voice called pleasantly. Rose pushed open the door and stepped in.

  “Yeah.”

  Cheyenne stood in front on the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish dripping. She was dressed in a lovely black pants suit, with an immaculate white collared blouse. Her black boots with their three inch heels made her taller than she already was and her dark blonde hair was fixed in an intricate knot at the base of her neck. Rose thought she looked beautiful, but also uncomfortable, no doubt looking how Rose herself felt in her black skirt and fancy blouse. They were both more at home in jeans and t-shirts any day.

  “Want some coffee?” Cheyenne offered. The pot was full and she poured some into a ceramic mug. As she sweetened it, Rose took a look around. Even the kitchen was bare. Most of the furniture had been removed, shipped away. The cabinets were empty as was the fridge when she opened it for inspection.

  “Coffee was all I could find,” Cheyenne explained, “and there are only two mugs. Guess they’ve already packed up the others.”

  “Guess so,” Rose answered, returning her attention to her. “Did you get what I asked you to?”

  Cheyenne nodded as she took a sip. “Sure did. It’s in my purse.” Her hazel eyes watched Rose knowingly. Rose didn’t like it.

  “Thanks,” Rose answered as she retrieved the package, still wrapped in its store bag. “I’ll pay you back for it.”

  “No, don’t worry about it.”

  “But I do worry.” Rose unwrapped it from the bag and read the label carefully. She felt her face grow hot, knowing Cheyenne was watching her. “I will pay you back for it. I swear it.”

  “All right.” Cheyenne turned away from her, thankfully and Rose finished reading the package.

  “Is this um—”

  “It’s the most accurate one,” she answered, not looking at her. “It’ll work.”

  “Okay, good. I guess I’m gonna do it now.”

  “Yeah.” Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder at her. “You don’t have to worry, you know. I’m not going to tell anybody.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” Rose said in a low voice. “I’m worried about other things.”

  “Like what?” Cheyenne furrowed her eyebrows together, but Rose only shook her head.

  “I don’t want to talk about it here. I can’t.”

  “That’s fine. Do what you gotta do.”

  “But thanks, really, for getting it for me.”

  Cheyenne’s face lit up into a smile. “Not a problem. What’s family for, huh?”

  Family, Rose thought, feeling sick again suddenly. “Yeah,” she returned, bracingly. “I’m gonna go do this. See you in a few minutes.”

  Cheyenne nodded one final time as she left. Carrying the package in her hand, Rose left the kitchen and went back into the hall. She started to cross the floor to the bathroom when Davis and Glen stepped in.

  “Rose, I thought you had left,” Glen said. “What are you doing here? I thought you would have headed back to the PRDI.”

  “I needed to talk to Cheyenne about something. I’m just on my way to the bathroom,” she explained, positioning the package in her hand so that it wasn’t quite so noticeable. “Have you seen Jason?”

  “No,” Glen answered immediately. “He called me this morning and said he might come out, but not to hold our breath.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t,” Rose said softly.

  Davis shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a gesture of his uneasiness with the topic. He lifted his eyes to hers again. Rose shivered. There was something cold about his eyes now, something not quite Davis. She looked away, back to Glen.

  “I figured he’d at least show.”

  “Jason hasn’t wanted to show for anything lately,” Glen explained.

  “He’s been…talking to you?” She felt a twinge of hurt suddenly. Glen nodded.

  “He calls occasionally. He asks about you, sometimes.”

  “What does he ask?”

  Glen’s face softened and he smiled a little. “He asks how you are.”

  “He has my number. He’s called me before, why can't he do it again?” she asked, a little irritably. Glen’s smile faded. He glanced at Davis, but the young man didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze firmly on Rose.

  “He could, but I think he’s afraid now. Ever since killing Simon—hell even before that—he’s been a hard shell to crack. He’s changing—”

  “Changing into what?” Rose asked. “I wish he could at least tell me.”

  “But he can’t tell you. He can’t tell anyone because he doesn’t know.”

  She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Glen put a steady, comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “He’ll come around, I’m sure. Once you tell him—”

  “Tell him what? That I might be carrying his brother’s child?” Her words were like acid. The sound of it echoed in the bare hall. It left a startling silence.

  “What?” Davis exclaimed, but Rose ignored him. She stared at her cousin.

  “He told you about it, didn’t he? About what Simon and I…did?”

  A disgusted look crossed Glen’s face and he nodded grimly. “He told me. Do you really think there’s a chance?”

  “Yes! There’s as good a chance as any that the child could be Simon’s.”

  “Oh God,” Davis said. He turned away from Rose and threw up his arms. “You fucked Simon. I cannot believe this.”

  Rose stared daggers at him. “It’s not like I wanted it.”

  “Don’t fight. Now is not the time or the place,” Glen broke in. He rubbed his temples. It was then that Rose noticed his shirt front was wrinkled. He looked good when dressed in a suit, but he looked tired now, disheveled. “Are you sure, Rose? Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

  “No,” she said, brandishing the pregnancy test she still held in her hand. “I was just about to find out.”

  “Oh,” Glen said, looking worried suddenly. Davis just looked disgusted, infuriated. He shook his head and looked away from her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “It’
s not like I wanted this. It’s not my fault.”

  “No,” Glen said for him. He glanced warily at his companion before turning back to her. “It’s not. It’s none of our fault.” He paused. “If Jason were to find out about—”

  “I don’t want to think what he’d do,” Rose interrupted. “No one else knows about the relationship between Simon and Jason, and no one else needs to know this either. At least, not right now. When I tell him about it, I want to be sure he won't flip out…”

  Glen sighed, but agreed. “All right.”

  “Thank you, Glen.” Rose leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, giving him a light embrace. “I better go. Are you guys going to be around?”

  “We’re going to head back. It’s been a very tiring day,” Glen said. Davis scoffed from behind him. He was already at the door. “Call me, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Rose said, looking away. Already she felt more than a little anxious. She watched them as they left, closing the door behind them. Cheyenne emerged from the kitchen, her shoes giving her away before her scent even reached Rose.

  “Was that Glen I heard?”

  “Yeah,” Rose said.

  “What was he yelling about?”

  “Nothing.” Rose could tell by Cheyenne’s glance that she didn’t believe her. She waved her off with a flick of her wrist. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it now. I have to go do this…thing.” She looked down at the box in her hand. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “Want me to hang around?” Cheyenne said.

  Rose shook her head. “No, that’s fine. I’ll be okay. I’ll lock up and stuff.”

  Cheyenne nodded. “If you need anything, just call me. I have my cell.”

  “Okay,” she said. “See you.”

  Cheyenne hugged her tightly. “Things will work out,” she said, but the words didn’t make Rose feel any comfort. “You’ll see.”

  “Take care,” Rose called. She closed the door behind her and watched through the window as Cheyenne walked to her truck. She waited until she started the truck and pulled away from the curb before she let out a breath of relief.