BrightBlueMoon

by Ranae Rose

  * * * * *

  The forest rushed by in a blur of trees and moonlight as Michael ran at a speed he hadn’t reached since the recent demise of the last Gruen family shifter hunters. He wasn’t the alpha, but he didn’t care – he led the way toward the edge of the forest. The scent of the animals that’d answered the recorded howl was coming from there, from the cabin where Kimberly was staying.

  And he’d heard her call for him, had heard her cry out his name, her voice edged with unmistakable fear.

  The other wolves were younger than him, but he’d spent most of his life on the run, and he outpaced them as he sailed over underbrush and wove between tree trunks, his heart beating fit to burst. He knew what fear was; it had shadowed him relentlessly throughout the past three decades. But this was different than what had plagued him when he’d been alone – this was like what he’d felt when the Gruens had kidnapped Mandy. He’d been terrified for his daughter then, and for Kimberly.

  He’d never wanted to feel that way again. He shouldn’t have ever had to feel that way again, with the Gruens finally gone.

  He should never have left Kimberly alone. Forget the damned Monsters 24/7 crew – if only he’d never let her out of his arms.

  When he made it back, he’d keep her safe and the film crew could go to hell. Maybe they’d find some real interesting stuff to film there.

  A vibrant strip of moonlight shone just ahead, a silver ribbon against fading autumn grass, marking the area where the forest ended, giving way to the little yard that surrounded Kimberly’s vacation cabin. The scent of canine was strong now, mingled with other odors: a skunk’s pungent stink, rotting garbage and the sweet olfactory combination of strawberries and cream. As Michael sprang ahead, running hell-for-leather toward the cabin, bright light flashed, blinding him.

  Headlights.

  A truck pulled into the cabin’s driveway, its motor rumbling. Michael’s fear neither grew nor lessened – it was already so severe, it couldn’t change. It didn’t matter who’d arrived, anyway – he couldn’t count on anyone else to protect her. That was his job. He’d hated having to stay away in order to keep her safe, but this – fighting – was something he could do.

  He’d rip the four-legged bastard mutts that had Kimberly cornered apart – all three of them. He could smell each one and knew they had to have been the same animals that had messed with Braden Spencer’s body.

  And now that he was close enough to get a fresh lungful of their scents, it was obvious they weren’t wolves.

  “Don’t move!” A deep voice boomed from the truck and a figure leapt out. The headlights were still on, and though the light dazzled Michael’s eyes, he could see a tall, broad figure hurrying in front of the truck, a gun cradled in his arms.

  A deep, frantic breath brought the smells of truck exhaust and Ronnie, Jack’s friend. Michael didn’t even have time to breathe a sigh of relief as he burst out of the woods, snarling.

  Two of the animals whirled, snapping as they spun on their bony haunches, bewildered and defensive. Jack, Daniel and Noah were hot on Michael’s heels, backing him up as he faced them. But the third one, the biggest one … it had its sights set firmly ahead, on Kimberly.

  Time seemed to move both too quickly and too slowly all at once as the huge canine leapt forward, long legs outstretched, along with its open jaws. Saliva flew from one corner of its mouth, forming silver threads that glistened in the moonlight, stringing from sharp teeth. Michael could smell its panic, its fear and an underlying hunger that was emphasized by the way its ribs rippled beneath its dirty coat. Hard times had turned it into a savage creature, and overburdened instincts drove it to attack Kimberly.

  Michael could smell her fear, too – and her determination. With a wordless cry, she swung an acoustic guitar she’d been holding by the neck like a Louisville Slugger. Where it had come from, there was no telling, but it collided with her attacker’s head with a violent twang and thunk, its strings and body singing a desperate note. For half a second, he couldn’t be sure whether the instrument or the canine’s skull had cracked upon impact.

  Then he was past caring, airborne as Kimberly panted, raising the broken guitar again.

  Her four-legged attacker yelped, swayed on its feet and lurched forward again, moving in a daze this time, staggering as if drunk.

  Michael and Ronnie tackled the animal at the same time, and Michael’s world faded into a blur of fur and chaos. Even in his human form, Ronnie was incredibly large and incredibly strong. Still, Michael didn’t loosen his hold on the animal that had lunged at Kimberly. With his jaws clamped down firmly on the back of its neck, he pinned it to the ground. Between his efforts and Ronnie’s body weight, the canine was subdued.

  Not far away, Ronnie’s shotgun lay in the gravel and Kimberly stood in front of her car, gaping as she held onto the remains of the guitar she’d sacrificed to defend herself.

  “I’ve got him!” Ronnie huffed, his chest pressed firmly against the creature’s back. “I’ve got this one. Kimberly, there’s an animal control pole in my truck. Can you get it?”

  She didn’t hesitate. Kicking up a fine spray of gravel, she hurried to the open door of Ronnie’s truck. “Where at?” she cried.

  “Under the seat. I used it to pull an injured coyote out from under a cabin porch a few weeks ago – it should still be there.”

  Finally, she approached holding a metal pole with a loop on one end. Ronnie took it and slipped it over the animal’s head.

  Michael let go and stepped back, muscles still tense, immediately turning to face the animal’s packmates.

  The other two canines were cowering a couple yards away, their bellies scraping the gravel. Jack, Daniel and Noah had them surrounded, preventing them from escaping into the forest.

  “Whoa boy,” Ronnie said, gripping the pole’s handle firmly as his captive pulled at the other end, snarling and trying in vain to escape the noose-like loop around its neck.

  Kimberly still held on to her guitar. “It’s just a dog,” she said, eyes wide as she took half a step toward Ronnie.

  “Careful,” he warned. “He’s still dangerous. Looks like he’s spent quite a while in the wilderness. He should be considered a wild animal.”

  Michael stepped between the captive dog – a German Shepherd, by the look of it – and Kimberly.

  She immediately placed her hand just above his shoulders, burying her fingers deep in his fur and holding on tight. “I thought he was a wolf.”

  It was easy to see how she’d made the mistake. The dog’s coat was greyish, and its long muzzle and pointed ears certainly looked lupine, especially in the dark.

  “He was probably somebody’s pet,” Ronnie said, keeping a wary eye on the animal as he tipped his head toward the two others. “Same for those two. Every once in a while, tourists’ pets go missing in the mountains and they eventually head home without them.”

  “Poor fella,” Kimberly said. “He looks starved. They all do. I think I surprised them while they were trying to get into the garbage cans.”

  Michael couldn’t repress a growl of irritation. The mangy dog had been ready to maul her, and she felt sorry for it?

  “I’m gonna call in some back-up.” Ronnie took a step backward, toward his vehicle, pulling the shepherd along. “I’ve only got one pole and no way to transport these guys to a shelter.” He raised his voice as he reached for a radio. “Jack, don’t let those two get away.”

  Jack gave an answering nod, his head bobbing as he towered over the other two dogs. Michael glared at the defeated animals, noting for the first time that Noah’s muzzle was bleeding a little. He, Jack and Daniel must have had a scuffle of their own with the other dogs as Michael and Ronnie had rescued Kimberly.

  It was nothing a little moonlight wouldn’t heal. No one had been seriously hurt. Still, Michael’s heart hammered against his ribs. To think that after all they’d just been through, Kimberly had been endangered by a stray dog…

  “I can’t be
lieve that little one has survived out here,” Kimberly said, her voice steadier than it had been a few minutes ago. “Just look at it!”

  Michael suppressed a groan as he eyed the grimy little furball Kimberly was staring at – the one whose paw prints he’d mistaken for those of a pup. It was an adult, but it was small – much smaller than the shepherd and the other dog, which appeared to be some sort of lab mix. Long-haired and pointy-nosed, he’d guess it was terrier mixed with maybe half a dozen other things. Probably weighed fifteen pounds soaking wet.

  “Don’t approach it,” Ronnie warned, his voice sober. “No matter how cute it is, it may still be dangerous. And we don’t know what kind of diseases it could be carrying.”

  A sigh came from one of the three wolves keeping watch over the dogs – Daniel, surely. At least someone shared Michael’s sentiments. Cute? The thing looked like an oversized rat wearing a dirty mop head.

  Tensions simmered as everyone was left with no choice but to wait for the animal control assistance Ronnie had called in.

  “What were you doing up here anyway?” Kimberly eventually asked Ronnie, whose canine charge had finally stopped growling and begun sulking and whimpering instead.

  “I knew Jack would be out keeping an eye on that film crew tonight, so I stopped by his and Mandy’s place to check on her. Figured I’d swing by here too and make sure you were doing all right, then head further up the mountain and see if Clarissa and Violet needed anything.” A slight pause ensued, and he cleared his throat. “Guess it’s a good thing I swung by.”

  Kimberly sighed. “You can say that again.”

  The sound of a rumbling engine alleviated the near-silence, drowning out the noise of canine discontent as a vehicle climbed up the mountain.

  “You guys had better shift, unless you want to end up in the animal shelter,” Ronnie said.

  Jack gave a mock growl, but shifted into his human form. “Michael, you got any clothes inside I could borrow?”

  Michael nodded and trotted into the cabin, shifting once he reached the inside. After he and Jack pulled on jeans and shirts, they went outside to keep an eye on the two unsecured dogs.

  “I reckon we can handle these two without any help,” Jack said, looking down at the two animals, which were plainly scared out of their wits, then nodding toward Noah and Daniel, who were still in their wolf forms. “But you two had better hang back and make sure they won’t be tempted to make a run for it.”

  Daniel and Noah faded into the shadows at the edge of the woods, where they could lurk unseen, blocking the dogs’ only real escape route.

  The truck that pulled into the driveway minutes later was equipped with metal kennels that occupied the entire bed, and two animal control officers stepped out.

  “Thanks for hurrying,” Ronnie said, nodding to them as they neared the scene. “I’ve got this one, but didn’t have any way to secure the others.”

  “Hold onto him while we take care of the other two.” The first officer stepped forward, an animal control pole in hand, and the other followed.

  The lab and terrier mutts panicked when the loops were fastened around their necks, but didn’t manage to get away. With a little expert handling, they were eventually wrangled into the truck’s kennels. Ronnie’s charge put up more of a fight, but no one was bitten and eventually the big shepherd was secured in the truck, too.

  Ronnie filled the animal control officers in on how the dogs had been startled by Kimberly while trying to get into the garbage.

  “Guess we can put an end to all those wolf rumors that’ve been flying around over the past twenty-four hours,” one of the officers said, rolling his eyes.

  “Right.” Ronnie nodded, the picture of seriousness. “People will believe anything, won’t they?”

  The officer shook his head. “If people spent less time worrying about killer wolves and more time keeping an eye on their pets, we’d have a lot less work to do.”

  “I’m gonna head up the mountain and check in on Violet and Clarissa,” Ronnie said, finally picking up his gun when the animal control officers were gone. “Unless anyone here needs anything else?”

  Daniel and Noah emerged from the forest, still in their wolf forms, and Jack shook his head. “Thanks for stepping in,” he said. “I’m starting to lose track of how many times you’ve saved my ass over the past year. How was Mandy when you stopped by?”

  “All right. I think I woke her up – felt kinda bad. What about the TV crew – anything going on out there that I should know about?”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Right now those idiots are traipsing through the woods dripping a trail of bacon grease, trying to attract wolves so they can get them on camera.”

  Ronnie’s dark eyes went wide, transforming his typically stoic face. “Seriously? I know they know about the bears out there … the animal ones, I mean.”

  Jack shrugged. “If they’re not outta the woods by morning, you might want to send a search party out after them.”

  Ronnie made a sound deep in his throat, shifting his gaze toward the tree line.

  “I wouldn’t worry about ‘em if I was you,” Jack said. “They’re stubborn as hell, and you know what they say – you can’t fix stupid. If they get eaten by bears, it’s their own fault.”

  “Last thing we need around here is for someone to start killer bear rumors,” Ronnie said, grimacing.

  After a moment, Jack nodded. “Guess I see your point. I—”

  The sound of a snapping twig cut Jack short. To other ears, the noise might have been innocent, but not to a group of shifters who’d been to hell and back more than once. Jack turned toward the tree line, and Michael did the same.

  Alex the camera man’s hair shone a coppery shade of red in the moonlight, and Michael’s gut clenched at the sight.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Jack snarled. “This property is—”

  Alex extended one hand, pointing. The other remained firmly on the camera he braced against one shoulder.

  Michael stared in the direction Alex was indicating with one long finger.

  Noah and Daniel stood in the center of the driveway, their dark fur shining in the moonlight.

  “There are wolves out here,” Alex said, his voice cracking slightly. “Holy shit!” He gripped his camera in both hands, aiming it at Noah and Daniel like a weapon.

  “That thing had better not be rolling.” Jack advanced on Alex, making deliberate strides over the gravel.

  A little light on the camera told Michael that it was recording, as did Alex’s expression. “No shit it’s rolling. Back off!” He held his ground for a few seconds before thinking better of it and taking an awkward step backward.

  He was too slow. Jack tore the camera from his hands, leering.

  “Give that back!”

  “Piss off.” Jack bowed his head, examining the camera, clearly looking for some way to destroy whatever footage was inside.

  “I mean it. Hand it over or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Jack didn’t even bother to look up. “You don’t have permission to film here. This is private property, and as the caretaker, I’m telling you to get out of here before you lose more than your camera.”

  Alex shook his head, his mouth working silently for a few moments. “That’s premium footage – that’s proof that there are wolves in these mountains. I thought Gus was full of shit. Who wouldn’t? But that’s mine, and I’ll have him and the network kissing my ass. Hand. It. Over.”

  During his diatribe, Alex seemed to have mustered up some courage. He stood straighter than before, and he held his hands clenched into fists. They weren’t raised, but…

  “Are you gonna leave on your own, or do I need to have my friend escort you off the property?” Jack tipped his head toward Ronnie.

  “You’re trespassing.” Ronnie’s deep voice echoed from where he stood by his truck, as immense and still as an old oak trunk.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” Alex sounded strang
led as he cast a cutting glance toward Noah and Daniel, two dark wolves standing statue-still in the gravel. “Are you all feeding those things? Are they your pets?” He jabbed a finger in Ronnie’s direction. “And you – you’re a ranger! Je—”

  “What things?” Jack asked as he finally removed an SD card from the camera.

  Alex opened his mouth as he whirled to face where the two wolves had been standing, but no sound came out.

  Daniel and Noah were gone – disappeared into the shadows behind the cabin, though Alex had been too busy flapping his jaw to notice where they’d gone.

  “This is bullshit.” Alex shook his head. “Unbelievable. If you don’t give me my camera back, I’ll just get more footage. Or someone else will. People already know about the wolves. It’s not like you can hide them.”

  “There are no wolves in Tennessee’s Great Smoky Mountains.” Ronnie spoke in a monotone, sounding like an overworked tour guide explaining something to an especially annoying tourist. “The only wild canines are coyotes, which may appear wolf-like to the untrained eye. So-called wolf sightings that occur here can be attributed to the abundant coyote population, or stray domestic dogs.”

  “I know what I saw. Those were no freaking coyotes. They were the size of ponies!”

  Ronnie nodded. “If you saw anything, they were probably dogs – pets left behind by tourists. Animal control is handling the situation. The dogs captured here tonight will be delivered to a shelter. They’re not going to harm anyone.”

  Though much taller and thinner, Alex looked Gus-like as he quivered with irritation, his face a vivid shade of red, even in the silver moonlight. “Whatever. You assholes can steal my footage, but it’s not like I’m going to keep quiet about this.” He glared at Ronnie. “You’ll lose your job when people find out that you’re keeping the big bad wolves everyone’s so afraid of as pets.”

  “You can say whatever you want to whoever you want,” Ronnie said, “but you can’t seriously expect anyone to believe you saw wolves out here. Not when you decided to sample these mountains’ famous wild mushrooms, anyway.”