[Sunwalker Saga 04] - Kissed by Moonlight (2013)

by Shéa MacLeod

  Great. Just great. All I needed was my mother hovering over me, listing everything I was doing wrong with my life, up to and including my choice of career. Granted, she thought I was a night manager at a local hotel, but I doubt she would have found vampire hunter a suitable occupation, either.

  I swallowed. My throat felt like it had been given a good scrubbing with sandpaper. I opened one eye a slit, hissing against the sharp light. Unless she was hiding in the bathroom, my mother was nowhere to be seen.

  "Where is she?"

  "I sent her to get a cup of coffee. She was... stressed."

  I would have laughed if my head hadn't hurt so badly. "Stressed" was no doubt an understatement. And, knowing my mother, she wasn't the stressed one. She was the causer of stress.

  "Besides," Kabita continued, "we need to talk." Her face was expressionless, which didn't bode well.

  Frak. Just what I needed. I sighed, closing my eyes again. "Listen, I'm not really up for a convo right now... "

  "Don't care what you're up for," she snapped. Her boots hit the floor with a solid thunk. "I'm done with this death wish you've got going."

  This time, I cracked open both eyes despite the pain hammering at the inside of my skull. Kabita's jaw was clenched, her silky dark brows drawn together in a frown. Man, she was pissed. "What are you talking about?"

  "Ever since Inigo got... injured, you've been acting nuts."

  Injured. That was one way to put it.

  "Nuts?" I thought I'd done a pretty good job playing normal the last few weeks.

  "First, you don't eat for months on end."

  Kabita was totally exaggerating. Besides, it wasn't like a couple months without food would hurt me. There were enough donuts on these hips to insure survival through any famine.

  "Next thing I know, you're calling me to rescue you from the bottom of a reservoir."

  She made a fair point there. Although the whole "bottom of the reservoir thing" hadn't entirely been my fault.

  "Then you take off for goddess-knows-where and end up in the middle of a prison riot," she continued.

  "Okay, that part isn't exactly true. There was no riot."

  She ignored me. "And then you manage to nearly get wasted in a parking lot. I know you're attacking random vampires, trying to get yourself killed."

  "First, I was not trying to get myself killed. The vampire attacked me. Second, that's my job."

  Kabita leaned forward, right into my face, her expression so fierce it was actually a little bit scary. "You went out there with nothing but a little bitty cooking knife and a boot dagger. What else am I supposed to think? You've gone off the frigging deep end, and I've had enough."

  Damn. And here I thought I'd been hiding it so well. "So, what? You're firing me?"

  She looked surprised at that. Her chair squeaked a bit as she sank back and crossed one jean clad leg over the other. "Of course not. Don't be stupid. Oh, too late."

  I tried to scowl at her, but it gave me a worse headache than I already had, so I ignored the jab. "Then what?"

  I swear to gods, Kabita smirked. "I'm sending you somewhere you can't hurt yourself. With someone who can force you to deal with your issues in a healthy way."

  I blinked. She sounded like my cousin, the therapist. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  Kabita gave me one of her enigmatic smiles and crossed her arms, feet back up on the bed. She was nothing if not smug.

  "Come on, Kabita. Who did you call?"

  "Me."

  In the doorway stood an old man dressed in faded blue jeans and a matching shirt. His long white hair was tied back in a thick braid and his dark eyes sparkled with good humor and the mysteries of the universe. I'd know him anywhere.

  "Tommy!"

  * * *

  Though they never met in life, Tommy Waheneka had been my father's friend. He was a shaman, a respected elder of the Warm Springs Confederated Tribes, and also my brother's guardian angel of sorts. If you looked up the word "enigmatic" in the dictionary, I'm pretty sure you'd find Tommy's weathered features staring back at you.

  Tommy pulled a flask out of his back pocket and handed it to me. "This will help."

  I was pretty sure booze wouldn't help a concussion, but I whispered, "Thanks," and unscrewed the cap. After the first sip, I knew it wasn't alcohol. I almost spit the vile stuff out. It tasted like goat bowel stewed in ditch water. Not that I'd know what either of those things tasted like.

  "Are you trying to kill me?"

  Kabita smirked again, but Tommy's face remained stoic, as usual. "Drink it all." His tone did not invite argument.

  With a sigh, I held my breath and swallowed the stuff as fast as I could. There was a bit of gagging involved, and my eyes watered, but I got it down, followed by a full glass of water. Unfortunately, my mouth still tasted of goat bowel.

  "Now what?"

  He sat down in a chair next to the door. "We wait."

  The silence was a thick, suffocating blanket. I could tell Kabita was still pissed at me. Tommy was unreadable. My head was still throbbing and my stomach still rioting. The antiseptic stench of the hospital didn't help matters any.

  The clip-clop of sensible heels echoed in the hallway. Oh, gods. I'd know that sound anywhere.

  My mother appeared in the doorway, a gently steaming paper cup in each hand. "Morgan! You're awake." She hurried to the bed, thrusting one of the cups at Kabita on her way. She set the other one down on the nightstand next to the bed and took my hands in hers. She looked pale and tired, her features drawn. I suddenly felt bad. She gave my hands a little squeeze. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like hell."

  "Language," she snapped, like I was a five-year-old.

  "Sorry, Mom."

  Kabita sat up, removing her feet from the bed so my mother could settle down next to me. The movement jarred my head, but the pain wasn't so bad this time.

  My mother sat primly on the edge of the bed, smoothing her beige skirt over her thighs. She was perfectly dressed and coiffed, down to the pearls around her neck and the carefully applied lipstick in just the right shade of mauve. I detected the faint hint of Chanel No. 5 as she reached up to brush a lock of hair off my forehead. Even visiting her daughter in the hospital, my mother insisted on keeping up appearances. "I told you working the night shift was dangerous. I hope you've learned your lesson and you'll see about getting a decent, respectable position."

  I must have looked completely blank, because my mother heaved a deep sigh. I had always been something of a trial to her.

  "Sorry, Mrs. Bailey, but she's a little fuzzy about what happened," Kabita spoke up, sending me a sly wink. "Get a bash on the head like that, and you're bound to forget a few things."

  "Oh, my." My mother looked horrified as she turned to Kabita, her face pale under her flawlessly applied makeup. "I saw that on Oprah once. People who've been violently attacked often suffer from amnesia and PTSD. You don't suppose Morgan will have PTSD, do you?" She turned back to me. "Does your insurance plan cover counseling? Don't worry. I'm sure your cousin will give you a free mental health assessment at the very least."

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I had no idea what to say. What on earth had Kabita told my mother? "Mom," I finally managed, "Jeanne is family. Assessing my mental health would be unethical."

  "Well, that's ridiculous." Mom mulled it over. "My friend, Margery, has an excellent therapist. I'm sure he can give you a discount."

  "Um, great." I happened to know Mom's friend, Margery, was sleeping with her therapist. I wasn't about to tell Mom that, though.

  I shot Kabita a glare. She smiled blissfully and sipped her coffee. Tommy sat quietly next to the door, completely ignoring the whole scene. I wasn't sure, but I thought he might be meditating. That, or he was sleeping with his eyes open. Either one was entirely possible.

  "Those horrible, horrible thugs, mugging you like that." Mom shook her head. "What is this world coming to? Your grandmother keeps saying this is
the end times. Maybe she's right. All this violence."

  My grandmother was a religious nut who listened to too many talk shows on the radio. If there was a conspiracy wackjob out there, she was probably listening to him or her. I remember my grandmother once declaring barcodes were the mark of the Beast and a sign of the end times, despite the fact that barcodes had been around for ages.

  "Listen, Mom, stop worrying," I cut her off before she started quoting Revelations or something. "I'm not going to get PTSD." Mostly because I pretty much already had it, thanks to the vampire attack that had woken my hunter abilities. "I've just got a little concussion. I'll be fine." At least, I hoped I would. The headache was nearly gone now and my stomach no longer felt like it wanted to jump out of my throat. Whatever had been in Tommy's flask was starting to work its magic. Even I couldn't heal quite that fast.

  My mother took a sip of her coffee, as if trying to steady herself. "You'll come home with me. I'll take care of you until you get better."

  Oh, good lord. That was the last thing I needed. "Thanks, Mom, but I'll be fine. I'm, um, going on vacation."

  That surprised her. She fidgeted with her pearls. "You are? When?"

  "Well, I was going to go next month." Total lie. "But since I'm sure the doctor will probably tell me to take time off, I figured I'd go early. I'm sure I can change my reservations." I crossed my fingers under the blankets and noticed Tommy was grinning ever so slightly.

  "But... but where are you going?" The fidgeting grew more pronounced. I knew if I told her I was going somewhere nice like Hawaii or Puerto Vallerta, she'd want to come. So I picked somewhere she'd never touch with a ten-foot pole. "Central Oregon." It wasn't a lie. Tommy's house was on the Warm Springs Reservation, and reservation land was just on the other side of Mt. Hood in Central Oregon.

  She frowned. "Sun River? That's a nice place. Maybe I can go... "

  "No. Not Sun River." Damn. I'd forgotten about that. Sun River was a very nice resort community. Biking, hiking, shopping, and restaurants. I was pretty sure there was even a spa. Just my mother's cup of tea. "I was thinking somewhere more... remote. Get away from it all. No phones or computers. No indoor plumbing. Just me and nature." Yeah, because I loved nature so much. I'd rather poke my eye out with a spork than "get back to nature."

  My mother looked revolted, just like I'd known she would. "I'm sure you'll have a nice time, dear. But you probably shouldn't drive."

  "Don't worry, Mom. I've got it covered."

  I swear Tommy winked at me.

  Chapter 12

  At some point in the afternoon, I drifted off again. Thanks to my hunter healing ability, and whatever herbal magic had been in Tommy's flask, I was feeling better, but my head still ached and the meds made me drowsy. I was in that happy place between dreaming and waking, where the world just sort of floats gently around you, everything warm and cozy, when I felt someone standing next to my bed. Maybe if I pretended to be asleep, they'd go away.

  "Welcome back."

  Crap. Jack. I so did not want to deal with him right now.

  I opened my eyes to see him sitting in the chair Kabita had vacated earlier. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, the worn denim hugging his muscular thighs. His skin had that warm golden glow that was part sun and part Jack, and his eyes were the color of the ocean in summer. I could feel the waves of heat coming off him. It made me uncomfortable, mostly because I could still feel the attraction between us.

  The room was empty except for the two of us. "Where's Kabita? Tommy?"

  "Sent them to get dinner."

  And they'd listened. Of course. I suppose it made sense. I mean, he was technically my guardian. Or, rather, the guardian of the Key of Atlantis, which was supposedly me. I wasn't sure I bought that entirely, but the facts were sort of stacked against me at the moment.

  "And my mother?

  "Your mother, I sent home. She looked exhausted."

  I felt a flicker of gratitude before I ruthlessly squashed it. Feeling grateful to Jack was a slippery slope to other feelings. Feelings I did not want to examine. "Why are you here?"

  His brows rose. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "I mean, how did you know?"

  He shook his head. "We're connected, remember?"

  "Bullshit. Kabita called you, didn't she?"

  He shrugged. "I knew the minute you were in trouble. I just didn't know where you were. When Kabita called, I came as soon as I could. Mostly I just handled... clean up."

  Ah. He'd made sure the cops wouldn't stumble upon the kind of crime scene that would have them asking some really uncomfortable questions. The vampire's sweet ride was probably at a chop shop by now. Dammit.

  "Find anything interesting?" I asked.

  "Actually, yeah." He pulled a smart phone with a lipstick-red cover from inside his beat-up leather jacket and waved it at me. "This was in the car. There's not a lot there, but I did find some notes." A few swipes of his finger over the screen, and he started reading. "'World War Two. Nurse. Swing dancing. Retirement home. Sunny End. Sunny Side. Sunny Park. Doctor... ' There's a question mark after that one." He pressed the phone's off button. "That's it. It's odd, though I'm not sure it means anything."

  "It might." Things were clicking into place. I pushed the button on the bed control to raise myself up a bit. I ignored the small twinge my head gave at the motion. "She had a soul, Jack. Just like the vamp I killed a few months ago."

  He stared at the phone in his hand. "You think she was remembering her past?"

  "Sounds like she was remembering something and was keeping track of whatever it was. She mentioned a retirement home. Do you suppose those Sunnys she mentioned are names?"

  Jack turned the phone back on. "Sunny End, Sunny Side... yeah, it could be. Why don't I do a bit of research, and then we can check it out together once you're out of here?"

  I started to agree, and then stopped as an image of Kabita's reaction swam through my addled brain. I shook my head, ignoring the brief stab of pain that accompanied the movement. "You check them out. Let me know what you find."

  A frown marred his almost too-handsome face. "Why? What do you plan on doing?"

  "Taking a vacation."

  * * *

  I stared, mesmerized, at the Hawaiian dancing doll perched on the dashboard of Tommy's old, beater Chevy pickup. Every time we hit a slight bump in the road, the dancer went from a gentle sway to wild gyrations, the plastic grass of her skirt swooshing madly to and fro. It was about the last thing I'd expected to find in Tommy Wahenaka's truck.

  "My granddaughter thought it was funny." He nodded at the hula girl.

  I hadn't even known he had a granddaughter. Not that I knew much about him. Tommy played things close to the vest. "When was she in Hawaii?"

  "Still there. College."

  So Tommy's granddaughter was going to university in Hawaii. Lucky thing. "Oh. Cool." I didn't know what else to say, and Tommy wasn't exactly chatty, so I returned to staring out the window.

  We passed a huge wooden sign in a vaguely trapezium shape on the left side of the highway. Brown letters against a pale yellow background announced we were leaving the Mt. Hood National Forest. On the right side of the road was another wooden sign, this one a rectangle with three teepees marching across the middle. Along the top were large letters spelling out "Welcome to Warm Springs." We were officially on reservation land.

  The scenery had changed from the lush fir trees and thick undergrowth of the western side of the mountain to the towering pines and stark, naked beauty of the east. We were still at least an hour's drive from Tommy's place.

  I decided now was as good a time as any to pick Tommy's brain. "Tommy, have you ever heard of a vampire having a soul?"

  I expected him to tell me "no" and leave it at that. Instead, a slight smile curved the shaman's lips. "You're asking the right questions again."

  I wasn't sure how to respond, so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the road. I figured he'd answer in his own
time. That's how Tommy rolled. The pause was so long, I was getting antsy. My head had started throbbing again, and I was seriously thinking about breaking out the hardcore pain meds the doctor had given me.

  "You've seen one of them?"

  I jerked my focus back, wondering for a moment what on earth he was talking about.

  "Yeah, twice now."

  "When?" His face remained expressionless, but his voice was grim. His hands tightened on the blue steering wheel. It was the same '70s turquoise color as the body of the truck.

  "The first time was a few months ago. Before... " Before all hell broke loose. Before Inigo all but died. "Before we met. The second time was what put me in the hospital."

  Tommy appeared to mull it over. "Interesting."

  I expected him to say more, but he didn't, so I gave him a little prod. "Trevor says the SRA is experimenting with technology that can put souls into vamps." I knew it was a long shot. Tommy had never worked for the SRA or any other government agency, as far as I knew.

  "Not is. Was."

  "What?"

  The truck barreled down the highway, bursting out of the shade under the pine trees into the bright sunlit flats beyond. Hula girl danced for all she was worth, her plastic smile wide and carefree.

  Tommy's gaze was still glued to the road as he swerved into the oncoming lane to pass a slow-moving car. I held my breath as I realized there was a huge semi barreling toward us. Tommy didn't even blink, just moved back into his own lane without missing a beat. I let out a sigh of relief.

  "That tech was created nearly thirty years ago," he said finally. "Some idiot scientist figured out a way to take somebody's soul and stuff it into a vampire. Damn fool business."

  His answer surprised me. According to Trevor, the tech for soul imbuement was still mostly a pipe dream.

  "It was what got your father killed."

  My heart was in my throat, fluttering wildly like a trapped bird. I stared at Tommy, eyes wide. I gripped the edge of my seat, my fingers digging into the cheap vinyl. "What?"