Five Moons Rising

by Lise MacTague

  As silent as a night breeze, Ruri slid forward from one shadow to the next, Lewis and Cassidy hot at her heels, Harold trailing along behind them. They would work their way through the row houses, while the other three stayed outside and dealt with anyone who came out. The most submissive wolven would be allowed to escape; they were little threat. Given a few days, they would turn up again and could be welcomed into Cassidy’s pack. The wolven who were strongly in MacTavish’s camp were the ones they wanted—those who’d helped MacTavish overthrow Dean and those who had turned Cassidy. They couldn’t be allowed to live.

  Working on the assumption that the wolven had opened passages between the houses, they planned to start at one end and work their way to the other. Ruri wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned. It was locked, which was surprising. They’d never bothered to lock anything at the hotel. Locks couldn’t keep out wolven, and little else would have been stupid enough to attack them. Apparently, this lot wasn’t quite so sanguine.

  The locks on the doors at the hotel wouldn’t have stopped her, and this one was no match for her strength either. It gave under her hand with a loud snap and she pulled it open, stepping back to let Lewis and Cassidy by. She dropped to all fours on the concrete stoop and called her wolf to her.

  Fluid burst from her and ran down her skin as it was swiftly covered with fur. Her bones snapped and shifted in a hurry, sounding like someone throwing a handful of gravel at a window. By the time her tail sprouted at the base of her spine, she was ready to go. Ruri panted at the exertion; forcing the shift into such a short amount of time was difficult and exhausting. Adrenaline and stubbornness would carry her through what she needed to accomplish, but after that, she would need a couple of days’ sleep. If she was still alive.

  She bounded through the dark hole of the back door into chaos. Fighting wolves surged around her. As they’d anticipated, someone had knocked a hole in the wall to connect the two units. Lewis engaged two wolven in front of the door. He snapped and circled, keeping them at bay. There was only enough room in the narrow hall for one of them to approach him at once, and he was taking full advantage of that. Already, both wolven facing him were bloodied; one had lost the better part of an ear.

  The sound of fighting down the hall demanded her attention. Ruri charged through the hallway and skidded to a stop in front of the stairs. Two wolven rolled by, one partially shifted and the other in full wolf-form. Neither of them was Cassidy, and she spared a moment to wonder which one was on their side. With no way of knowing, she let them be. They seemed more concerned with each other than with her. There would be time to sort out the victor later. That fight was going to end in the death of one or both or so she surmised from the bloody puncture wounds around the throat of the half-shifted wolven.

  There was only one place Cassidy could have gone. Ruri galloped up the stairs, her ears open for sounds of disturbance. The air was rank with the smell of unwashed bodies, blood and despair. No one had been happy in these rooms. Cowering wolven avoided her eyes when she stuck her head through the doorways of the upstairs bedrooms. These were of no moment and she backed out. They might be frightened, but she knew better than to stay too long in the doorway or to turn her back on any of them. As long as they knew there was a way out if they wanted it, they wouldn’t attack.

  Overlapping snarls filtered down the hall to the bedroom at the very front of the house. It sounded like at least two wolven. A low growl caused her to up her estimate. Three, then. She surged forward, not caring who heard her coming. The last growl belonged to Cassidy.

  Two wolven were backed into a corner and Cassidy stood in the middle of the room. One of them darted forward, heading for the door, but Cassidy snapped at him. Her teeth clacked shut on empty air, but not for lack of trying. The young wolven retreated back into the corner. He wasn’t happy about being on the attack. Deep gouges lined the side of his neck. Ruri wondered if he’d tried to submit to Cassidy. She hadn’t accepted it, if that was the case. This was probably one of the wolven who’d attacked her. Ruri hadn’t been certain if Cassidy would remember them; Cassidy hadn’t been sure either. It seems their question was answered.

  Her presence in the room’s doorway hadn’t gone unnoticed by any of the room’s occupants. It took only a split second for the confronted wolven to realize she wasn’t attacking Cassidy. They were now well and truly cornered. As one, they tried to surge past Cassidy, one high and the other low. With breathtaking speed, Cassidy snatched the high one out of the air with her jaws and slammed him down onto the lower one. They tumbled to the ground with twin yips, one of which was cut short when Cassidy’s closed her jaws around his throat. She shook him vigorously. The snap of his spine reverberated through the small room and the other wolven scrambled to his feet. Blood poured down his neck, staining his rusty pelt bright red. One front leg was likely broken; he put no weight upon it and scrabbled to present his uninjured side to Cassidy.

  Ruri stalked into the room, cutting off his escape route. He backed up slowly, paws slipping on the hardwood floor. Cassidy matched her pace on the other side. They backed him into the corner. Light gray eyes rolled wildly, from Ruri to Cassidy and back again. From the way his eyes darted around the room and how he shifted his weight back and forth, he was going to make his move and soon. No one was coming to save him, a fact that seemed finally to dawn upon him. Maddened and with foam dripping from the side of his the mouth, he broke and lunged at her.

  Ruri danced to one side, then rammed the crazed wolven as he tried to get by, body-slamming him to the floor. He screamed as he went down, his injured leg taking all his weight. She followed in, grabbing his exposed throat in between her jaws. Blood filled her mouth where she broke the skin. It was hot and sweet like the exultation that filled her and the wolf upon their victory. His whine stopped when she tore out his throat in a gout of blood and gore. The wolven’s legs churned for a moment longer before his body gave in to death.

  Cassidy pulled at her mind from the doorway. Ruri looked up and met the odd-eyed stare that pierced its way through the dark. There was work yet to be done.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The message had only taken a couple seconds to send, but Stiletto was already halfway down the tree. Malice followed along quickly and smoothly. There was no point in alerting anyone to their presence by dashing through the bushes like a couple of bull elephants.

  There was still no movement in the parking lot when they took up assault positions at the edge of the tree line.

  “What’s with the wait?” Malice asked Stiletto. “Why haven’t they moved?”

  “The lycan in the truck is probably out. I imagine the rest of them will be along any moment now.”

  True to Stiletto’s prediction, another truck rumbled around the long curve and into the parking lot. Unlike the one that had just mashed itself through the side of the bank, this one kept to the road and had a trailer attached. The hiss and the squeal of air brakes drowned out the sounds of the crash’s aftermath. The truck creaked to a stop next to the smoking mass of the first semi.

  Lycans in human form leaped out of the cab and from the back doors of the trailer. There were eight of them. One of the lycans directed his men with shouted insults and cuffs to the back of the head. That must be MacTavish.

  It seemed the biggest problem was that the ruined truck was blocking the hole they’d punched in the bank. Fur sprouted along MacTavish’s arms while his muzzle elongated. The muscles in his legs shifted and popped, but he halted the transformation halfway through. A couple of other lycans had managed a similar transformation. The others watched and waited with poorly concealed impatience.

  “Move it,” MacTavish shouted, the words somewhat distorted by the shape of his face.

  As one, the eight lycans took up positions around the semi. They heaved and slowly the truck moved. The wheels were trashed; there was no way those would turn again. Instead, the lycans dragged the truck back about six feet. It wasn’t much and even fo
r them it took a few minutes, but they finally had unrestricted access to the inside of the bank. By the time they finished, the driver had recovered enough to scramble out of the cab. He was a mass of blood. At least one limb was bent at an unnatural angle, but it straightened as they watched.

  MacTavish clapped the lycan on the shoulder. Even with the amount of pain the man must have been in, he still straightened under the gesture of approval. He seemed young, even from where they watched. His limbs were gangly, slightly too long for his frame.

  “Wait inside,” MacTavish said. “We’ll be done soon.”

  The partially shifted lycans dropped to all fours and completed their transformations. The remaining lycans still in human form filtered into the bank and the Alpha joined them, two large wolves taking up the rear. The young driver headed to the back of the trailer.

  “I’ll get the group of them,” Stiletto said. “You take care of him, then come help.” She indicated the driver with her chin.

  “Got it. Flashbangs?”

  Stiletto nodded and took off across the parking lot at a silent sprint. In the dark and against the parking lot blacktop, she was almost impossible to spot. Malice waited a couple of heartbeats, then headed to the trailer.

  The lycan had closed the doors most of the way behind him, but one was slightly open. She slipped between the metal doors, causing one to swing open a little further. A metallic squeal echoed through the trailer, and she froze just inside the door.

  “Who’s there?” The voice sounded even younger than the lycan looked. It was surprisingly high-pitched, like he had only recently started going through puberty.

  Malice gave no answer, instead ghosting her way down the central passage between two sets of deep metal shelves.

  “Alpha, is that you?” The sound of boot heels against metal reached her ears. “Do you need me?” Soft clangs accompanied his steps. It was very dark in the container, but if he got much closer he would see her.

  Without the slightest whisper of sound, she swung herself to the top of a nearby shelving unit. Her feet hooked to the edge of the shelves on either side of the aisle, and holding on with both hands, she waited for him to walk beneath her. Slowly he came closer. He wasn’t moving quickly; he definitely knew something was up. As he passed underneath, Malice let go to pull a short metal baton from the back of her belt. With a flick of the wrist, she deployed it, and then released her grip to drop on top of him, striking him to the ground with a loud clang. Before he could get his feet under him or his bearings, she raised the baton and brought it down on the back of his head. He collapsed instantly, all movement gone from his limbs at once.

  Quickly, Malice brought two fingers to his throat and checked for a pulse. In the light from the partially open door, he looked absurdly young. There was little way to tell how old a lycan was. They tended to look on the young side until shortly before they died. It seemed the transformation rejuvenated them until their bodies simply gave out. Even older humans who were turned tended to gain a youthful demeanor to themselves, but not as young as this one. He seemed like he’d been turned recently. If he was older than seventeen, Malice would have been shocked.

  She hesitated for a moment, knowing she should kill him but loathe to do so. Finally, she pulled out a handful of flex cuffs from an inner pocket in her jacket. Jesus, he’s heavy! Malice thought while maneuvering him into place. Quickly, she cuffed him to the metal shelves before giving him an insurance rap behind the ear. He shouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. The metal doors on the back of the container squealed in protest as she muscled them closed. Fortunately, it was unlikely anybody in the bank heard it. The noise of the fight reached all the way over to where she was. With a loud clunk, she engaged the external lock and approached the bank.

  Across the lot and revealed by the lights of the intact semi, a shaggy figure staggered out of the gaping hole on two legs. He bled from half a dozen wounds along one side of his torso and appeared to have lost an ear and part of his hand. He stood with his uninjured hand pressed to his side and stared back into the bank. Blood matted the fur on his chest and abdomen, but it wouldn’t slow him down for long. Malice froze, trying to evade his notice.

  His head lifted, muzzle tracking back and forth, tasting for scents in the air. It was unlikely he’d be able to smell her. The young lycan, she realized. That’s what he’s smelling. With an oath that would have gotten her a disapproving glare if her mother had been around, Malice rushed forward and lowered her shoulder. Before he was all the way around, she collided with him. They went down in a tangle of limbs, his pained yelp hanging in the air and ringing out again when they hit the ground.

  Malice used the momentum of the tackle to bounce to her feet and turn back toward the lycan to finish him off before he completed the transformation. In his in-between state he was much easier to handle than as a wolf. He got his feet under him and bounded up faster than she could react and she stared at him for a split second as he swung his hand at her, fingers splayed and claws gleaming. She ducked under his reach at the last second and felt a slight tug when his claws snagged on her hair, pulling strands out at the roots. She snatched the knife from the sheath on her leg. His look of surprise when she slipped his grasp was almost comical, but it was quickly replaced with agony when she buried the blade up to its hilt in his armpit. It went in easily at first before grinding up against one of his ribs. She yanked it out, sending a gout of blood bursting from the wound. He fell heavily to his knees as his energy drained from his body along with his blood. He cast a questioning look over his shoulder, and then pitched forward onto the asphalt.

  Malice wiped the blade of her knife carefully on her pants, then slipped it back home in its sheath. The battle raging in the bank called to her. There was plenty of work yet to do.

  Ruri backed up foot by foot, giving ground but making the wolves who had her cornered work for it. She snapped at the muzzle of the nearest wolven and made brief contact. Blood spattered onto her own muzzle, adding to the layers of speckles already there. The first row house had been easy enough to clear out, and the four of them had forced their way into the second one, but things had rapidly gone downhill since then. There was no way these wolven were dealing with the effects of an injury to their Alpha. Instead, Ruri, Cassidy and Lewis were in a corner, snarling and snapping at the wolven who harried them mercilessly. She had no idea where Harold had ended up.

  The wolven she’d gotten a piece of shrank back but was quickly replaced by another. White fur and brilliant blue eyes filled her vision; nothing else existed around her. Britt. Her wolf growled, and she joined in, the sound rumbling through her chest. The woman she thought had loved her grinned wolfishly at her, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. Ruri’s growling increased in intensity until she fairly vibrated with the force of it. At her side, Cassidy glanced over for a brief moment before returning her attention to the two wolven who pressured her with teeth and claws. Seeing Cassidy’s electric blue eye, the one that matched Brittney’s eyes so closely, sent a bolt of rage jangling through Ruri’s nerves. Inside, her wolf howled and demanded complete control, throwing herself against the tethers of self-control Ruri had built up over a century and a half.

  “Get her, you mangy curs!” MacTavish’s rough voice split the night as he urged his lycans on. The snarl at the edge of his voice grated and made his words almost impossible to understand, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Take her down, we need to get out of here! Someone is attacking the pack!”

  This was it, the point of no return. MacTavish could not be allowed to overtake Stiletto.

  Malice pulled two flashbang grenades from her pocket and armed them. “Fire in the hole!” she hollered, and sent them spinning sidearm, one after the other, through the gaping opening. Despite her tightly squeezed eyelids, light still bled through and crimson filled her vision for a second. Sharp reports filtered through the hands she’d clapped over her ears.

  She was already moving, vaulting over the pa
rtially collapsed wall, when the lycans realized they were under attack from behind. A lycan on his knees looked up at her blindly as she descended upon him, katana extended. He didn’t have enough time to raise his arms before she sliced through his neck, shearing his head from his body in one stroke.

  An agonized roar shook the small space. It was hard to make much out—dust still floated through the air and it was dark. The light from the parking lot didn’t penetrate far into the shattered vault. Even with her enhanced vision, Malice could barely make out shapes that were only now starting to move after being stunned into inaction. They were gathered around one corner where two slumped bodies gave mute evidence to the ferocity of the fight so far.

  The lycans attacking Stiletto were big, each easily a hundred and eighty pounds if not more. Those still on two legs topped Stiletto by almost a foot, and she wasn’t a short woman. They easily had the advantage on her, in reach and in strength, and yet time and again she slipped their lunges, disappearing like mist in one grasp after another. It probably didn’t seem like it to them, but she was tiring. She was as fast as ever, but Malice could tell her motions were starting to lose their efficient crispness.

  Five lycans still stood. She’d downed one on the way in, and two were on the ground, though it was impossible to tell if they were dead or merely incapacitated. With the one trussed up in the trailer, it was still too many. If MacTavish were to prevail now, he would be able to get back to his pack and destroy Ruri and Cassidy.