Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2

by C. D. Gorri

  Sweat beaded on her pale forehead and her short blonde hair was wet with it. She didn’t pay attention to any of that. Her focus was solely on the dance. That’s what she looked like. Take away the leather and the blade and add a tutu and some slippers and she could have easily been a prima ballerina. She came to halt in an extraordinarily intricate move.

  She jumped into the air swung the blade down on the head of her imagined foe and landed on one knee the other leg behind her and Zombie Killer thrust into the heart of her attacker. She motioned for me to copy her and I did. Well, I tried to anyway.

  “Too slow. Again. No, not like that, see, you’re dead.” She held the jagged end of the blade a little too close to my throat. I neither swallowed nor exhaled until she stepped back. Cara spun the blade away from me and thrust it into its leather sheath. She was breathing heavy. I didn’t know why. She wasn’t winded or anything. I started to gather my things too, but she stopped me.

  “No, not you. You stay here and practice. Use the mirror there. I, uh, I need to step out. I’ll have Ronan practice with you. He’s skilled with knives.” Ronan had been watching from the sides. He seemed concerned, but made no move to take Zombie Killer from Cara until she offered it to him. He bowed his head slightly and she nodded, leaving the room quickly.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “That had nothing to do with you. I think, Cara is a little homesick is all. Here let’s go again, shall we?”

  I found it easier to get comfortable with the blade when I was with Ronan. I wasn’t wary of him the way I was with Cara. The next hour passed quickly. By the time we stopped I felt immensely proud of myself. I didn’t even notice Cara had returned until she cleared her throat.

  “Looks like you’re doing well. Keep that blade with you. Practice more.” She nodded at Dragon Fire in my hand and took Zombie Killer from Ronan. Cara walked away as silently as she had come in. I was struck by the picture she made. She was small and fair looking, like a pixie with her short hair. Who would guess she was a deadly kickass Werewolf?

  “Wow. She’s giving you the blade?” Ronan’s voice held a modicum of awe as he took the knife from me and gently wiped it clean with a microfiber rag.

  He placed it reverently in its sheath and presented it to me handle first. I reached for it. It felt heavier than it had during our practice. As if now it held some importance or significance it didn’t have before.

  I tucked the blade into the waist band of my yoga pants. I really must be putting on muscle and some height too because none of my jeans seemed to fit. It was all yoga pants and sweats these days.

  I really needed to shop, but I hated it. I suppose not being rich and not having a mom around added to that. I mean we weren’t poor. We were more like middle class. Nonna just didn’t like to spend a lot. She was thrifty. I usually only went shopping a handful of times a year. Looked like it was about that time again.

  “So, you want to go for a run later?”

  “Um, yeah, sure. After dark though, I have homework and some chores.”

  “Right. See ya then.”

  Our goodbye was awkward. I wasn’t sure where we stood or why things had to change but I knew they were. Our kiss had somehow damaged the truce between us. I could feel Ronan’s frustration with me. Just as I could feel his patience.

  I suppose I should have brought up Julianna. It just didn’t sit right with me that he could have done all the things she said he did. And then there was Sebby and this rumor I had yet to confront him about. The one of us dating officially.

  I mean he hardly talked to me anymore. Soccer seemed to take up so much of his time. Besides I didn’t feel comfortable involving him in all of this mess.

  Ugh. Why wasn’t my Wolf answering me? Why did my relationships have to get so weird? Why wouldn’t my jeans fit? I was really worked up by the time I left the sparring room. I didn’t even notice Uncle Sean waiting for me by the door to his study.

  “Grazi, my darling, can you spare a second of your time?” He always did that. Put his commands to me as if they were actually a question. Good manners. I suppose, but a command was still a command. No matter how prettily you dressed it up.

  “Okay, sure.”

  “How’d you do in your sparring today?”

  “Fine.”

  “Well, you’re talkative today aren’t ya?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” His blue eyes narrowed on the knife on my hip.

  “That’s Cara’s?”

  “She, uh, gave it to me.”

  “Did she? Well. That’s something fine, now isn’t it? May I?” I handed him the blade. He bowed his shaggy blonde head before taking it. He carefully pulled it out of its sheath.

  Uncle Sean’s steady gaze never left the blade as he held it on one finger. I noticed it was perfectly balanced. What a wicked looking thing. It gleamed in the soft light peeking in through the shades.

  I felt its magic humming in the room. It was thirsty. My eyes flew open and I stared at Uncle Sean. He lifted his blue gaze and met mine. He looked severe. Menacing or angry even. His exhale was audible.

  “Dragon Fire is a worthy blade. It has a long history among the Greyback. My great-grandfather used this knife to slit the throat of a Witch king who had summoned a powerful Demon in the early 1900s. That was the start of World War I.” I trembled with energy. Witches and Demons were responsible for a war that killed so many? I wanted vengeance.

  “This knife will serve well one who deserves it. Make sure you do.” He held it out to me. I wondered if he felt the same thirst from the blade that I had. Yes, it was powerful. Certainly strong enough to persuade me I needed vengeance on something or somebody for a war that was fought long before my time.

  Powerful. Definitely. But I wasn’t so sure if that was good or bad. Dragon Fire was much older than WWI. I sensed that. It was even older than I think my uncle knew. I took the sheathed blade back from him. Carefully.

  “So now, where were we? Yes, there is another matter I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, there is no gentle way to go about it so I may as well just tell you.” Finally some answers about the mysterious prophecy and contract. I readied myself for what I was about to here.

  “Grazi, I know things have been sort of confusing for you. Growing up without any contact from any of us on your da’s side that is. It may seem strange to you. The Pack rules you’ve had to swallow without question, but know that I am on your side, kiddo.”

  His blue eyes stared at me and I was struck by how like my father’s they were. On my side. Right. For how long? I didn’t even realize I still felt that way.

  That those kinds of doubts remained with me. I wanted to believe him, really I did. It’s just, trust came hard.

  “It’s okay if you need some time to come to terms with all that. I understand. Anyway there are matters of estate I need to tell you about. You see, you’re mother and father set up a trust for you when you were first born. Upon your eighteenth birthday you will receive half of the trust and the rest when you are twenty-five. These documents will explain to you all that you have inherited. Money, lands, titles and such. I am the executor of your father’s will and as such I am permitted to give you a yearly stipend, or an allowance.” My mouth hung open as I looked over the paperwork. There were a serious amount of zeroes involved. OMG. I’m rich? Not exactly what I was hoping to discover, but not such a bad thing either, right?

  “Uncle Sean, what does this mean? I mean I can remember our little house. They, we, it didn’t seem like we were wealthy or anything.” Flabbergasted. I was flabbergasted.

  “Yes well, Lilliana and Patrick were never mercenary that’s for sure. Your da grew up in an old Irish castle I guess he preferred to live simply. And your mum,” His voice cracked. He turned his head and walked back around the large desk.

  He sat stiffly and ran his fingers through his gray blonde hair. He was a handsome man. I tried to imagine if my dad
would have looked like him, maybe a little taller and bigger in the shoulders. He cleared his throat.

  “Lil-, your mother was a very levelheaded woman. She probably didn’t want to spoil you. Anyway, here.”

  He held out a credit card of some sort. My full name was written in raised print across the bottom. Maria Graziana Kelly. Expiration March 2020.

  “This is a debit card in which I have placed ten thousand dollars for your use. Now this isn’t just free money for you to do whatever you like all willy nilly. You need clothing, supplies, gear. That knife is priceless, but you’ll be needing protective gear and fighting clothes. I have taken the liberty of arranging a fitting with a contact here in the states who has outfitted us before. He will be here sometime this week. The Pack will take care of most of the costs, but I am sure there are items you will want.”

  “Okay.” I could think of nothing else to say. I was still trying to process what I had just learned. I had money. My own. Not Nonna’s and not Uncle Vito’s. Mine. It gave me a huge sense of independence.

  “You’ve grown, you know, probably an inch or two in height and about fifteen pounds in muscle and definition since I’ve been here. That’s good, but I’m sure you need some personal items. Sascha will drive you. You can take Ronan too.” The idea of buying some new things was appealing, but no way was I okay with that plan.

  “Okay, wait a minute. I am not going clothes shopping with boys!”

  “Grazi, be reasonable. You need an escort.”

  Okay, I know I ‘m a Werewolf. Yes, I’ve defeated a Wendigo and a Vampire. But there was no way was I trying on bras and buying underwear in front of a bunch of guys. A girl had to have her limits.

  “I have someone who can take me. Don’t worry, Uncle Sean.” I headed out of the house and ran into mine.

  Nonna was sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of papers in front of her. She was reading intently. I must have startled her because she jumped when I entered the room in my haste.

  “Oh, Grazi! You want to eat something, si?” She was half way out of her chair when I shook my head.

  “No thank you, Nonna.”

  “Okay, bellisima.” She sat back down and continued to read her papers. I gave her a kiss on her soft cheek and headed upstairs. I closed the door to my room and grabbed my cell phone.

  “Angela? Hi. I need to go shopping for some clothes tomorrow after school. And I need help.” She hung up after squealing with delight and I hurried and showered and dressed.

  CHAPTER 8

  It wasn’t even Thanksgiving and already the mall was decorated with thousands of mini lights and miles of fake evergreen garland. A huge tree made out of round ornaments stood thirty feet tall and an old man dressed up as Santa Claus sat in a huge red and white chair.

  Tired, cranky, overdressed children stood in line and waited for their turn to take an overpriced photograph. A young girl dressed as an elf tried desperately to entertain them until it was their turn. None of them smiled.

  I sympathized with all of them. Every year when I was little Aunt Theresa insisted on a photo of her girls with Santa. Because of Nonna, I would go too. There would be two pictures. One of us together for Nonna and one separate. Of course.

  Aunt Theresa always explained that it was because she needed to send copies of her children’s picture to her family. Never mind the framed copy that hung in our living room. Nonna never sensed the venom behind her claim. I recalled it more clearly now as I watched the children below me.

  Julianna and Rebecca would be dressed up in matching velvet and plaid dresses with little patent leather shoes. Their hair immaculately combed and pinned up in red and green ribbons.

  I would be in clean jeans and whatever sweater Nonna had knit for me. My long dark hair pulled back in a neat braid. The sweaters were always soft and comfy, but the difference in our appearances was severe. Back then I wished for just a hint of kindness from my aunt. An offer to help me do my hair up with a ribbon? Maybe take me shopping for a dress? But that never happened.

  Julianna always went out of her way to trip me or push me into the outer corner of the picture while she and Rebecca sat on Santa’s lap. I usually stood behind them. The lines were the worst. When I was twelve I refused to go with them and Aunt Theresa was only too happy to leave me out. I was glad I no longer had to endure that. Glad I learned early to ignore the fact that my aunt had no wish to include me in her family.

  Still, I loved the mall at Christmastime. It was so pretty and smelled so good like cinnamon and balsam candles and hand dipped chocolates. Angela wanted me to stop in every store and I finally had to put my foot down. I settled on a few good pairs of jeans that actually fit me and a number of tee shirts to go with them. I was usually warmer these days so I stayed away from outerwear.

  I did snag an oversized gray hoodie with the word Pink written across the chest in black. I also purchased a soft cable knit sweater in ivory. Lastly and most importantly, I bought a dozen new bras and twenty pairs of underwear. Having ripped my last two really good ones to shreds during my change, I figured these were a good investment. They probably wouldn’t last very long. I bit my lip and went back and got four more of each.

  “Seriously, Grazi, what are you going to do with all those bras and panties? And you really should consider a thong.”

  “Um, maybe next time. Besides I needed all the sports bras for gym and running.”

  “Speaking of running. What do you say, you get a new pair of sneakers?” I looked down at my beat up Nikes. Sure they were old and had seen better days, but I wasn’t sure I could give them up.

  “Come on. It will be okay.” Angela used fake sympathy to get me into the store and I have to say I am glad about it. I went into Journeys and bought a pair of Nikes identical to the ones I had on. I also got a pair of Converse like Ronan’s but in blue, and a pair of very functional, steel toed, black combat boots that came up to mid-calf.

  “Going through a Goth phase are we?” Angela asked eyebrows raised.

  “No, I just like them. And so what if I am.” I nudged her with my shoulder and she giggled.

  “Nothing, nothing. I happen to like corsets and lip piercings I just didn’t think you did.” More giggles. I had such a good time I barely felt like I was shopping.

  Uncle Sean was right. I had grown. I went up a size in everything. I was probably happiest about my bra size, though I am ashamed to admit it. I am such a weirdo.

  I felt a little bit guilty. I spent so much money on myself. I had never done anything like that. So, I stopped by a kiosk of handmade candles and doodads. I picked up a patchouli scented candle and a bottle of pink salt from the Himalayas for Nonna. I also picked up some cherry licorice laces and butter toffee for Ronan. I kept that to myself though.

  “Oh no, you’ve got buyer’s remorse. I know what we need!” Angela phoned her driver and we left the mall. A few minutes later we were pulling up at Sherry’s spa. I was nervous. I hadn’t seen Sherry since the other night. Would she spill?

  We entered the spa. I could feel sweat form on my brow despite the chill in the air. It had been unseasonably cold for weeks now. The salon had heat coming through the air vents, but it was stifling to me.

  I looked around checking for Sherry, all I saw was a few of the regular employees. Smelled like regular humans to me. Angela grabbed my arm and we walked over to the pedicure seats. I sat down and she started taking off her boots and socks.

  “Don’t you want a pedi?”

  “Nah.” I shook my head and got up and walked towards the magazines.

  “Okay, so I want this red on all my toes except the big toes. I want them green, but can you paint a red flower on them both?” Angela was chatting away to the poor pedicurist with all of her demands. One leaf on the right foot but two on the left, and so on and so forth.

  I had no idea how she came up with these things, but according to her there was meaning in the details. I skimmed a fashion magazine, but couldn’t even feign interest. A
ngela was still busy with her instructions so I snuck to the back of the shop. I followed my nose so to speak. Mmm. Cinnamon.

  “Come, in little Wolf,” Sherry was sitting crisscrossed on a woven rug in front of an altar of sorts. There were candles in every color, all of them were lit. Some were melted down to a stub. There were what I guessed were offerings in ceramic bowls. I could make out the scents of certain herbs, nuts, and fruits. They all sat in front of a picture of some woman. Maybe a goddess or something? I didn’t know.

  “Um, hi. Am I disturbing you? I can go back in the other room?”

  “Not at all, one minute.” She was chanting something under her breath in a language I recognized as one she often used. I felt electricity of some sort in the air. Similar to the charge I felt when I changed or talked to my Wolf. I knew what it was now. Magic.

  Thinking about my Wolf made me alarmed. She had remained silent since earlier in the day again. It was late now and still nothing. I was seriously getting worried.

  “So you have a problem?” Sherry still had her eyes closed, but I could feel she was listening to me. In tune to my feelings in a way I was a little uncomfortable with. I don’t think Werewolves in general liked people guessing what’s going on with them. She opened her eyes and I noticed they were lavender in color.

  Her hair was a myriad of browns, golds, and reds. It hung to her shoulders in a perfect wave, Made sense, she was a stylist/salon owner. I always admired people who just seemed to wake up beautiful. Like it was just so natural for them. They wore their hair just right. Always had on colors that complimented them. Me? I knew nothing about fashion. I wondered if it showed as readily as her style did. Hmm.

  “Do not get tense, little Wolf. I was just reading your aura. It is lovely, you know. Predominantly purple with some silver, pink, green, yellow, and a touch of red. Tell me, do you often pick up on when one is doing magic?”