Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  She glanced back to see three vans and one car pull up, all the doors opening with reporters hurrying down the trail to where they stood.

  “Sheriff, please. Can’t you just give me one quote? Anything?”

  “And why should I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Small town camaraderie, maybe? Please, Sheriff…I really need this.”

  He shook his head for a moment while apparently thinking it over. “Fine. I’ll tell you the person was female.”

  She smiled. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get out of here. I’m not a fan of reporters, and when they circle like this, it only reminds me that they are nothing but vultures.”

  “Of course. Thank you again.”

  She quickly turned, almost running into the same reporter from The Post who had been at the press conference earlier that day.

  “Oops. Excuse me.”

  “No problem, kid.”

  She smiled politely, but didn't miss the skeptical stare she got when walking away from the crime scene. It was the last thing any reporter would or should do, especially at the scene of such a big story. But she wasn't about to get scooped on this story. She couldn't chance the Sheriff or any of his deputies talking to the other reporters and getting it out before she had a chance to.

  Once she'd gotten behind the wheel of her Mustang, she'd broken about every traffic law on her way back to the Gazette. Having a few accidents on her record and a high insurance premium, normally she'd be more careful. She had a sneaking suspicion that the county deputies had much more important things to worry about than not stopping at all intersections, though.

  She’d barely made it in the little brick building which housed her paper before she heard her boss, the paper’s managing editor and owner, Clark Rohlson yelling for her.

  “Where the hell have you been, Sloane? We had a breaking news story, and our newest reporter was nowhere to be found. This isn’t make-believe, you know. It’s a real newspaper.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Rohlson. I know I should’ve said something before I left, but –”

  “But nothing. I had to send Connie out to the scene. She left five minutes ago. You blew it, kid.”

  She was growing increasingly annoyed by being called ‘kid’ by whoever crossed her path. Maybe she was only twenty-four years old, but the last time she checked, she was far from being a child.

  “You might want to call her back,” she replied.

  “And why in the hell would I do that? We’re wasting time. We need to see if Sheriff Stick Up His Ass is willing to give a statement.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve already got one.”

  “Got one of what?”

  "A statement. I heard the news on the scanner and high-tailed it over to the crime scene and beat all the other reporters. Sheriff O'Keefe gave me an exclusive statement."

  “Our Sheriff, the man who hates reporters, gave you an exclusive statement? How in the hell did you manage that?”

  “Let’s just say that we came to an understanding,” she answered, not wanting to let word get out that the way to the Sheriff’s heart was through disappearing and getting out of his hair.

  “I see.” Rohlson nodded his head and patted her on the shoulder. “Good job, kid. Come in my office and tell me what you’ve got.”

  Kinzey smiled, proud that she’d gotten the job done and received her first kudos from her boss. It might be a small victory, but she was on her way.

  Chapter Five

  Paul stood at the top of the mountain looking down on the scene of police and reporters below him. Eve and Zeke stood on either side of him as they all used their magnified vision powers to view the goings-on from a quarter mile away.

  “What do you think is happening?” Eve asked.

  "Whatever it is, it can't be good," Zeke replied.

  “We shouldn’t be speculating at this point. We don’t know anything,” Paul reminded them.

  “Oh, come on, brother. There’s a dead body down there. Another dead body, at that. That makes three in just as many days. You can’t honestly tell me that any of this is good.”

  “Shit.” Paul ran his hands through his hair and paced around the two. “What the fuck is going on?”

  He was speaking more to himself than anything, but his thoughts had a tendency to come out when he was stuck inside his own head.

  “When are we going to face the idea that it might be one of us?” Eve asked.

  "It can't be," Paul answered. "It's not our way. We don't attack humans. We never did."

  "Maybe the Racinitine Pack didn't, but you know who did," Zeke interjected.

  “Enough, Zeke. This isn’t the time for ghost stories.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Eve asked.

  “Nothing. Listen,” Paul turned his attention toward her, but not before glaring at his brother. “I need you to go back and tell the others that we’ll have a meeting at eight tonight in the clearing. Zeke and I are going to hang back and see what kind of information we can find out.”

  “Okay, I’ll get right on it.”

  She nodded and ran back up the hill. It was the first time in longer than he could remember that they’d parted ways without at least a little peck. Zeke must have noticed it, too, as his question proved just how nosy his little brother could be.

  “What’s with you guys?”

  “Nothing. We just sort of broke up.”

  “What? And you call that ‘nothing’? When the hell did this happen?”

  “We were talking about it when you came into my apartment.”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry, man. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. We were drifting apart. It was mutual.”

  He wasn't about to share the same things with Zeke that he had with Eve. He knew he could trust her and she wouldn't assume the worst. His brother, on the other hand, would most likely run to their sister and make a mountain out of a molehill. And that was the very last thing any of them needed.

  “Still, sorry, man.”

  “I’ll be fine. And we have more important things to worry about.”

  “Right, like what the hell is happening in Grand Lake. Do you think it could be the –”

  “Damn it, Zeke. Didn’t I just say we don’t have time for ghost stories? Let it go.”

  “Fine.”

  “Listen, I need you to head back to the bar. The lunch hour is approaching, and with all these reporters in town, we’re going to be busier than usual. I don’t want anything appearing out of the ordinary.”

  “Got it. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to hang back and see what I can observe. I thought about shifting to get a closer look, but I don’t exactly what to be on the receiving end of a bullet from a nervous deputy with an itchy trigger finger.”

  “Yeah, I think that would be best with everything going on.” Zeke patted his brother on the shoulder. “Be careful, bro. Don’t leave us waiting too long. You know Nova’s going to have a million questions, and she won’t shut up until she hears the answers straight from you.”

  “I’ll be back by two. Just keep things under control. I need to do some recon.”

  Paul waved to his brother as he followed Eve’s path up the mountain toward the other side.

  He hunched down behind a rock and zeroed in his ears on the people below him. Without Eve or Zeke around to distract him, he could focus more on what was being said.

  The sound waves reverberated through the trees and bounced back at him as he waited to hear what the coroner was saying to the sheriff.

  “It’s got to be the same creature that killed the hikers,” the coroner said.

  “And still no determination on what kind of animal may have caused it?”

  “I don’t want to say without being certain.”

  “Come on, Chet. Give me something,” the sheriff demanded. “Was it a bear?”

  “No, definitely not a bear. And no
t human, either. These marks are too inconsistent and not uniform enough to be made by a tool.”

  “Then what then? A wolf? I mean, what other wild animals do we have in these parts?”

  “That’s just it. I was meeting with the wildlife experts when I got the call on this one. We all agree that the claws are far too long and run too deep to be that of an ordinary wolf.”

  “But…?”

  “It doesn’t make any sense. You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

  “Well, shit, Chet. Half the fucking town is crazy. From Lonnie, who fishes with Flaming Hot Cheetos, to the lady who is convinced that her bird keeps stealing money from her purse. We’re a town full of crazies.”

  "It's just that the wounds, both bite and maul wounds, seem to come from a wolf. But a very large one. At least twice the size of what we're used to seeing up here."

  “So what? You guys think it’s some sort of new species or just an unusually big one?”

  “I don’t know,” the coroner replied. “We found some tissue in some of the wound tracks and sent some samples down to Denver to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation for analysis. Maybe that will tell us more. But until then, I hate to say it, Sheriff, I think people in this town could be in real danger.”

  A commotion with some reporters near the taped-off perimeter distracted them.

  “What’s going on? Deputy, get them back away from the scene.”

  Paul squinted, trying to get a better look from the far distance of his position. His vision was always harder to maintain once he narrowed in on sounds. It was the double-edged sword of their powers: using too much at once not only tired them out, but would drain one for the other.

  “Okay,” the sheriff continued. “So how long before the CBI said they could get the results back to you?”

  The coroner shrugged. “Maybe a few days. But I asked them to put a rush on it this morning, and I think after this new body, they’ll definitely be willing to move it up their chain of cases.”

  “Well, get on it. We need answers, and we need them yesterday. This town is already freaking out. God damn reporters everywhere, driving in, flying in, wanting answers that I don’t have.”

  "I know, believe me, I'm doing the best I can. I've just never seen anything like this before."

  The two men looked down at the body of the woman, covered in blood and laid out like a rag doll.

  “Neither have I, Chet.” The sheriff took off his hat and wiped his brow. “Neither have I.”

  Paul stood up when the two men parted ways and the sheriff began to disperse the reporters from the scene. He hadn't heard much, but he'd learned enough to know that their problem wasn't going away anytime soon.

  The knowledge that the wounds appeared to come from a wolf, and a much larger one than they could currently identify, sent chills down Paul’s spine.

  He knew his pack. He knew his people. They were not violent and had never once strayed from their mission to live under the radar and in harmony with the humans. But the more he learned, the more he realized that something—or someone—in his pack might have changed.

  He didn’t want to think it. He didn’t want to entertain it in the slightest. But, it was becoming clear to him that there was a real possibility that someone from the Racinitine Pack was a killer.

  Chapter Six

  After a day being lauded by her boss and finally feeling like she had accomplished something toward her ambition of being a serious reporter, Kinzey felt adrenalized and was eager to find out more about this story blowing up in their small mountain town.

  She’d purchased a backpack and a few essentials, including a flashlight and a couple of disposable cameras, before heading up the back trail to where the body had been found earlier that morning. Deputies would probably still be guarding the site until they finished collecting evidence and doing their investigation, but she couldn’t just sit by without at least trying to do a little digging of her own.

  The folks in town had been bustling with the news all day. The out-of-town media only fueled the rumor mill as reports of everything from a serial killer to Bigfoot had been named as the culprit in the brutal slayings.

  Luckily, she still had her hiking boots from her teenage years when her father had made her go fishing with him nearly every month during the summer. Since they were nice and broken in, she felt little wear on her feet and ankles as she navigated through the thick brush and slanted terrain of the western slope above Grand Lake.

  She’d traveled further than she thought, as the cast of a flashlight bounced off the bank of trees to her left. Huddling down to keep out of sight, she remained quiet while a deputy scanned the hillside for signs of intruders.

  “Must have been a false alarm,” the deputy shouted.

  “I could’ve sworn I saw something moving up there.”

  “Well, there ain’t nothing here now.”

  Kinzey remained still for several minutes, trying not to draw attention to herself again. It was obvious that despite her small frame, she wasn’t as light on her feet as she thought.

  Once she felt it was safe, she moved in a little closer, remaining low as she hunched behind a large boulder.

  She pulled out one of the disposable cameras that she’d stuffed into her pockets, wishing she hadn’t lost her good digital one on her last fishing trip with her father. The clicking sound and subsequent winding of the film advancing might give her away in the quiet summer night.

  Only the sound of hushed voices and crickets surrounded her. Not even an owl or any other discernible animal made their presence known. It was then that she remembered an eerie warning her dad had always given her about the wilderness.

  “Be wary of the quiet,” he’d say. “The forest always knows when a predator is near.”

  Just as she recalled his words, an icy chill raced down the length of her spine. A sudden awareness overtook her, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

  Without knowing who or what was causing these deaths, Kinzey tried to remember if she’d told her parents she loved them the last time they spoke.

  A breath warmed the back of her neck, and she froze, mid-breath. This was one of those times a reporter was either really brave or really stupid. She wasn't sure which one she wanted to be, but she was too fearful to make the decision herself.

  Before she could react, a hand reached around and covered her mouth. The arm held her snugly against the perpetrator’s body, so tight that she couldn’t wiggle even the slightest bit.

  An indescribable fear washed over her, and her pale skin turned that much whiter in the moonlit forest. Was this going to be it? Was she going to die?

  The thoughts plagued her all at once, but the stranger didn’t speak. He simply held her tightly against him as her breathing became more panicked and erratic with every passing second.

  She tried to scream, but he tightened his hold on her that much more.

  “Quiet,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her eyes widened with terror. No matter how much she wanted to believe him, the fact that he had attacked her from behind was making it hard for her to buy into anything he was trying to sell her.

  Attempting to twist free of his hold only agitated him and caused him to tighten his grip. “Stop it, damn it. I said I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She heard the anger in his voice and wondered if this was one of those turning points that she'd read about from so many other victims. That moment when the victim stopped fighting could lead to either their salvation or their death sentence.

  She wasn't sure she was ready to give into a crazed killer, but at twenty-four years old, she didn't exactly want to die, either.

  Damn it, Kinzey. Think!

  “I’ll loosen my hold if you promise not to scream,” the man said.

  She nodded, knowing that she really wasn’t the one in control in the current situation. At the very least, maybe she could make a run for it if he eased up on her enough.

  �
��Okay, now—don’t scream.” He loosened his hold a bit, but not much. “If you try to run away or make any noise at all, the authorities are going to hear you, and we’re both going to get caught. And I suspect we’re up here doing the same thing.”

  It was then that his voice turned from a whisper to more quiet talking. There was something familiar about it, like she'd heard it before but didn't know it well enough to place. She chided herself for not being a better reporter. Facts and information were supposed to be her expertise.

  “Good. Now, I’ll remove my hand, but you have to promise me you’re not going to make any noise or run away.”

  Feeling a bit more at ease without even knowing why, she granted his request and nodded in agreement.

  He removed his hand just enough for her to turn back and see the stark shadows of a square jaw line and familiar features. It only took a moment to realize where she’d seen that handsome face before.

  “Paul?” she whispered.

  He grinned and shook his head. “Now I thought you said you weren’t going to make any noise?”

  She winced. “Sorry.” She mouthed the word more than whispering.

  With his arms still around her and his body pressed up against hers, she could almost see herself forgetting that there was a job to do and bodies piling up in their small town.

  His hard muscles and intoxicating smile could probably make her forget the entire world, if given the chance.

  Despite his rugged good looks and magnetic charm, she was still left with nagging questions. Just who was he and what in the hell was he doing out here?

  Chapter Seven

  Paul opened the door to the barn and let Kinzey inside. It was dark with only a sliver of moonlight shining through the hole in the roof. Despite the lack of light, he still couldn't take his eyes off her shiny red hair. Tugged back into a neat ponytail, it looked much longer than he'd realized, since the last time he'd seen her, it had been pulled up into a messy bun.

  “What is this place?” she asked.