Moonlight Hunters: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 2)

by K. R. Alexander

  At my questions, Zar told me about it while we walked back to the field. A crwth, which he spelled for me and said was a sort of bowed lyre, a traditional Welsh instrument.

  He wanted to teach me at least the bodhrán, if not all the instruments, which he seemed to think would be terribly fun and easy for me.

  I love music. I love listening to drum beats and chants to trance and perform rituals. From ancient folk to classic rock to modern pop to musical theater, I’ve always loved music.

  I do not make music. On a scale of one to ten for musical talent, or a fine ear or innate musical brilliance, I am a zero. At best.

  I was able to decline a lesson on the grounds that I’d never heard their own traditional songs and my involvement would deprive me of the experience. This way, I could phrase what was a total refusal as if there might one day be a chance for Zar to teach me. Just for now, let’s hear how you do it.

  It worked. Zar was happy. I was relieved. As to the rest of them…?

  By the time we arrived there were a dozen adults in a vague circle around the fire by the stone barn, plus several more and many pups up playing games in the now gloomy field that seemed to involve a treasure hunt. To my chagrin, my arrival did not go unnoticed.

  As they had when I’d seen them before, the pups looked downright alarmed by the sight of me, keeping a wide distance. Not all of their older kin seemed exactly delighted to see me either. There were a few smiles. A few making eye contact. Others muttered to one another, avoided looking at me, or even moved away. A young male and female got up from the circle as we approached, taking their flutes, and slipped off into darkness at the edge of the wood.

  I told myself it was bad timing. They had been about to walk away anyway. Yet I didn’t actually believe that.

  I’d already known the pack was divided about having asked a human witch for help at all. Now, I also knew that some of them suspected casters as the murderers. We hadn’t one shred of evidence to support this—while suspicions toward shifters or vampires grew steadily stronger. Simply the theory existing that it could be casters like the group I knew in Brighton, Broomantle, was concerning enough.

  Zar was either blissfully oblivious to the change of tone in their festivities as we approached, didn’t find the matter important, or hoped to cover any discomfort by pretending to be oblivious. Whatever it was, he led me right up and found me a log seat.

  Jason stood from the circle to greet me. Kage was there as well but didn’t bother. I wondered if he was still mad at me about the train incident going into London.

  I didn’t recognize anyone else there. No Jed, Isaac, Andrew, or any of the elders I’d spoken with previously. This was a young bunch. I wondered if Darius was among them. All attractive specimens, naturally: male and female, mostly dark-complexioned, sleek, though hard to see now as night settled. They wore cutoffs or cargo pants rolled up, tanks, T-shirts, and about half the males, including Jason and Kage, were shirtless.

  It turned out, they had the small fire this time, despite the heat, because they wanted to be able to see their instruments. Jason told me this apologetically as he offered me his seat that was farther from the warmth. I didn’t mind where I was, however. We were near the English coast and the sun had set. It would cool off.

  While we settled in, among quick talk in Lucannis, their own wolf tongue, Zar made another offer of his instruments to me, then passed over the drum to one of his friends and settled by me with his flutes and crwth.

  A young male said something that made Zar laugh, then he answered partly in English as he slipped a leather strap on the crwth over his head. “No way. Arä Lunae.”

  Then the rest were laughing—aside from Kage, who glared at the fire.

  “Go on then,” Jason said. “We’ll join you.”

  They’d been talking about what they were going to play. A relief since I’d suspected the subject could be me.

  I watched in fascination as Zar gave a quick test on his crwth with the delicate bow, like a violin, yet totally unlike one, tuned it, and started off. In less than a minute the rest had picked up the harmony.

  They played flutes, mandolins, a couple of frame drums with their hands, and Kage had what looked like some sort of guitar. Smaller and slightly curving, but not as small as the mandolins.

  Jason played nothing, but sang, along with one of the young females.

  Imagine the most beautiful, lyrical folk music you’ve ever heard, add a couple sounds new to your ear, and include the kind of breathtaking voices that can bring judges to tears on the toughest TV talent competitions. Now, imagine you can’t understand any of the words because the performers are singing in Lucannis, but it doesn’t matter. The song is a ballad, a story, a journey across a mystical time and place, a quest, a romance, a tragedy.

  I’d never heard anything so exquisite. Listening to them, throat tight as I stared at the fire, I didn’t care about it being short-term, or not getting too involved, or secrets and lies, or balancing impulse with logic. I only wanted to be a part of this: to speak the language, understand them, run with this pack.

  Chapter 17

  After a few songs, Isaac, then Andrew, joined the group, which was always in flux. Some getting up, others sitting, pups being herded off to bed. Isaac greeted me personally. Andrew couldn’t be bothered.

  Zar apologized that very few of their songs were in English—“It’s such a fumbling language to write lyrics in. But I’ll work on more, Cassia. It’s not fair that you can’t understand these.”

  “How about a translator?” Isaac was still there after he’d come up to wish me good evening, though Zar had obviously been hoping he’d shove off.

  Zar mouthed at this but he was wanted for the music. In fact, he had his flute in his hands.

  “Thank you for the thought. You don’t need to start writing songs for me, though. And thank you, Isaac, for the offer.” How could I win?

  Zar joined in the next song while Isaac rested on his knees in crushed grass beside me, murmuring into my ear, his beard brushing my skin.

  While their lovely singing voices washed over us, all male for this one, ranging from light tenor to upper baritone, I almost failed to remind myself of what I was out here waiting for. A chance to talk to Jed. To sort out this Beech Pack thing. Then to follow up. Or else make a decision with them about Germany. Stay? Go? And, if they went, would I? Would they need a caster’s help there?

  Things to attend to. Important things.

  Important like Isaac’s warm breath, his and Zar’s closeness, the music, Kage shooting us scathing glances, making my heartbeat quicken in alarm as I imagined him throwing himself at Isaac just like he would if he’d been in fur.

  Then—I almost gasped, and not from Isaac’s light touch on my arm—there was Jed.

  He’d slunk to one of the logs at the edge of the group, hardly brushed by firelight. I hadn’t seen him sit down. Perhaps he’d been there for several minutes. All in black, as usual, he almost vanished. And he was here in skin. He could talk to me if only I could get him in a mood to.

  As the song ended and I thanked Isaac for the translation—it had been a sort of prayer to Moon and celebration of the lunar phases and seasons—I saw Jed was working on something. Like I’d seen him at the hostel, he was stitching. One of his custom orders, no doubt. That was why he was in skin tonight, trying to catch up on his missed work. Perfect. And possibly my one chance.

  More movement around the gathering: much talking in English and Lucannis, joking and sparring, some of the males snapping at each other. Everyone busy. Even Isaac stepped away, honoring my implied dismissal—which made me want to follow and kiss him, let him know his respect was not lost on me—Kage still looking murderous, Zar talking to a female about flutes.

  And Jed. Stitching, head bowed, here on the outskirts to listen, even if he wasn’t fond of his own pack. Or anyone.

  I moved over to him, hoping no one would pay any attention. A stupid thing to hope, maybe, but I�
�d also hoped for years to wake up one morning and find out I was mundane—no witch at all. So there you go.

  Jed sat working on a slim leather belt across his lap. It must be the project he’d had in London. A deadline coming up?

  He’d also shaved, weirdly enough. I’d never seen him with anything less than a couple day’s stubble. Maybe he bothered about this sort of personal grooming once or twice a week.

  He was square-jawed, ruggedly handsome, if I may use the cliché—just as much with or without the black stubble—and he only bore vague resemblance to his slender, long-haired brother.

  “Your work is excellent,” I told him quietly, sitting beside him on the log. “Zar showed me the workshop earlier.”

  “Why’d he bother?” Jed didn’t look up from his delicate work. “So you’d go down on him?”

  Maybe I should have been used to Jed’s ability to kill my mood. Instead, I felt as shocked as the last time, blood rushing to my face, longing to punch him.

  The weak fire seemed ten times hotter. The commotion around us of others leaving the group or sitting down seemed ten times quieter, all slipping away. Even though a chanting, quick song had started and I should have been able to hear it strong and close.

  “I don’t know what your problem is,” I said in a fierce hiss. “But you don’t need to talk to me, or about Zar, like that. I’ve done nothing to you. I have nothing against you, yet you’re making that really tough on me. I’m trying to help your people, which includes helping you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “And I said I’d protect you,” he snarled. “What more do you want? Should I kiss your arse like Zar?” He finally looked up. “Or take you for a nice worm meal with china teacups like Isaac? Pretend to be something I’m not? Or do you want me to go out of my way to irritate everyone around me? Like Andrew? You seem to fancy that in a bloke. Oh, no, I know what you fancy. Jason in the caravan, right? Want me to fuck other males? Then you’d have nothing against me—just your type.”

  I faced him, noses inches apart. Magic pulsing around me with my own anger made me feel ready to knock his sneering, handsome, arrogant head right off.

  “All I want from you, for starters, is a little common decency.” I dropped my voice even more, almost spitting at him. “After that, I’d have thought I could expect you to give a damn about your family, your community, and doing anything you can to protect them. I am. But I won’t be here much longer. What will you do without me? Just go on? Not say anything about the Beech Pack? Even if they could be behind this? Even if you’re the only one here who has the connection to know what they’re really like? What they’re capable of? You’ll just ignore that and watch your people be murdered? Until you are next?”

  “There’s nothing to know about the Beeches.” He focused on his work again. “They wouldn’t talk even if you went there to see them in person.”

  “We could try! Rather than ignoring them. The only pack without casualties in the whole region? We could make an effort if you would. No one else even knows where they are.”

  “As it should be,” he growled.

  “What do you know about them, Jed? Lives are at risk.”

  He ignored me, back to working on his stitches.

  The rapid, repetitive beat of the song washed over us.

  Pups ran back to join. They sang and pounced at Kage.

  “Change, change!”

  When Kage refused, still keeping an eye on me, they bounded at Jason instead.

  “Change, Jason! Chase us!”

  “You’re supposed to be in bed,” Jason started.

  “Change! Then we’ll go to bed!”

  More members in and out of the circle. I left Jed and went to stand against the broken down barn, apart from the fading ring of firelight, rubbing my temples.

  Jason, also outside the light, stripped off, threw his clothes at Kage, and changed into fur amidst cheering from the pups.

  I couldn’t really see the change, and never had, but I heard popping of his bones and joints and it sounded painful. He ended up panting, shook himself in the long grass, and three or four pups sprang at him. They tackled his black ruff and pulled his tail.

  Jason chased them around the field, ran off, and generally let them pummel him before their guardians, either parents or core, started herding them away again and Jason escorted them back to their homes, vanishing into darkness.

  Isaac and Zar were talking about Germany. Andrew listened. Kage poked up the fire with a booted foot. A couple young males who’d been singing with them were laughing with Jed, though it was hard to imagine Jed saying anything funny.

  Something about worms, I heard clearly. Female worms.

  I pressed my nails into my palms and watched the black horizon of the woods. Fine.

  He could keep the Beech Pack to himself. They’d go to Germany because it was all they had to cling to, even though there may be a much bigger breakthrough right in their own backyard. What difference did it make to me? It was their lives. Or deaths.

  Or, if they cared, why wasn’t someone else following up on the Beech Pack already? Why didn’t they track them down without Jed?

  But I cared.

  Goddess how much I cared and how much I didn’t want to.

  Spluttering and merriment from the worm trash talkers was growing even more annoying.

  Time to go. Maybe Isaac would give me a lift home. Though … I should ask Zar.

  I’d just turned, still undecided, when Jed scoffed and mentioned a name I’d waited for.

  “The best Darius can hope for with a worm is another Brenda Dickerson.”

  A couple of the hyenas burst out laughing while the third protested that Jed was talking rubbish; he had no trouble impressing worms.

  I didn’t get the rest of the retort because, at Jed’s words, Isaac was on his feet. Silently, he stepped past the fire and, moving so fast it seemed I could hardly process what was happening between eyes and brain, he kicked Jed in the face.

  Instant explosion in camp.

  Jed was thrown across the grass, shouting curses and grabbing his face. His three snickering pals fled as if Isaac had been gunning for them. Zar and Kage leapt to their feet. Andrew was already on his and retreated from Isaac, watchful and tense. The few others still around the fire also scrambled back.

  Zar darted past Isaac to Jed, who was thrashing around, gagging and spitting, still swearing.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jed yelled at Isaac, then spit again, turning onto his knees. It looked like there was blood running from his mouth. Was it a tooth he’d spit out?

  “Jed?” Zar grabbed his shoulder. “Did he break your teeth? You’ll have to change—”

  “Fuck off—”

  “Change and it should take care of them.”

  “Hunt Moon—” More spitting. “You fucking bastard.” At Isaac.

  Finally, Isaac spoke. “You think it’s funny? What happened to that girl? Fit to have a laugh over?” His voice was low, but not calm now. Shaking with anger: dangerous. “Do you wish you’d been in on it? Any of you?” Louder then, looking around to the gloom where the other three had run off. “A bit of sport? Is that it?”

  “Kir Vinu,” another gasp of pain from Jed.

  “Change, Jed.” Zar was helping him get his clothes off. “You’ve got to.”

  Jed struggled out of jeans and boots. His shirt was more difficult, fighting it off around his face as he snarled in pain.

  I started away, shaking, heading for the fence and road, though this pitted field was a challenge to walk through even in daylight.

  Kage spotted or heard me go and jogged after. He was also short of breath, glancing back.

  Others who’d been spread around the field now passed us to take a look at what was happening.

  What was happening?

  “Want a lift home?” Kage asked. It seemed an oddly sensitive thing for him to say. Shirtless, he had Jason’s clothes in a bundle under one arm, the neck of that lit
tle guitar in his right hand. He didn’t sound in the least put out with me anymore. Finally distracted.

  “What did Jed say?” I asked, still walking. “What was that?”

  Kage didn’t answer right away. “Just … one of those halfwit things Jed says. When he does say anything. Him being in skin for an evening at all is rarer than shooting stars.”

  “Who’s Brenda Dickerson?”

  I heard Jed changing behind us and walked faster, still trembling and able to see the fence now by moonlight and outside lights on the mobile homes.

  Only once we reached the fence, I’d climbed over and Kage leaned on it, did he say, “A human yearling, or, uh…?”

  “A teenager?”

  He nodded. “She was in the news some months back. School break holiday party, parents out of town, that sort. Underage drinking and drugs involved.” He paused and looked again toward the faint orange glow from the fire. He didn’t meet my eyes as he went on. “Brenda passed out drunk at the party. A couple of teenage geniuses took pictures of her with their dicks in her mouth and posted them online, making it look like she’d been into it, just had her eyes closed. They used her name—like her name was such a laugh, ironic. So … it was all over everything. The social media stuff they use. And … a day later … she killed herself. Took all her mum’s sleeping pills.”

  I stared at him in the dark.

  Slowly, Kage dragged his face around to look at me, his eyes reflecting the yellow glow from porch lights.

  “So Jed was saying that was the best Darius could ever hope for around worms,” he said. “One like Brenda. Just as well Jed hardly ever speaks these days. I was about to tell him to belt up. But Isaac … that wolf has his own issues.”

  I looked back to the dot of a fire for a minute, blood beating in my ears. I felt sick, stomach twisted, yet for none of the same reasons I’d felt shaken a minute ago.

  At last, I said quietly. “Isaac warned me he has a temper.”

  “Bloody understatement.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Kage glanced at me.

  “If he finds that story funny, I think Jed deserves what he got.” I walked away across the road to the double-wides and a few parked cars, still trembling.