Snow Covered Moon

by L M Adams

  Jesse comes out of the bar waving his arm. I say my goodbyes quickly and turn back to the crowd; the guys are doing the same.

  Thankfully, there’s no arguing about who’s going to drive and who will sit where. Peter hands Jack the car keys without asking. I let Lucien get the front seat again. He’s the largest of us all. I get in the back and sit between Tabari and Peter. Ok, so it is a little crowded back here. But I still don’t understand why they had the need to go on like they had on our way over here.

  Jesse jumps into a jeep with the doors taken off, turning the engine over. He pulls out to the street and Jack follows him. Mr. Williams’ family doesn’t live far, just as Jesse said. We get there in no time.

  The Williams family lives in a pretty decent neighborhood by fringe standards. The streets are clean, the two-story homes look kept up. The houses have a bit of land around them, much like my place. They even have a large tree in their front yard and rose bushes under a big bay window. It’s the kind of place you raise children in.

  We park on the street and clamber out of the car. I have a pang of misgiving, descending on these poor people en masse, but it’s a little too late for that. They’ve already opened the door at Jesse’s knock.

  The house is as nice inside as it is outside, spacious and inviting. The walls are some soothing shade of taupe. I guess it’s taupe, and I guess taupe is soothing. I have no idea about such things.

  The walls have pictures hanging in areas. Hardwood floors that gleam with a strip of rug that runs from the front door, through the living room area and ends at the area that’s designated as the dining room.

  The Williams are a young-looking black couple. They invite us in to sit at their dining room table. It’s a nice solid oak, polished to a high shine. Not one thing is out of place. Mrs. Williams keeps a tidy home. She’s graceful as she hands out refreshments. Homemade lemonade and freshly baked sugar cookies. She looks to be maybe mid-thirties, but it’s hard to tell with wolves; they age slower.

  But they do still age and the average werewolf, barring anything unfortunate happening to them, could live to two hundred, easily. Then the years seem to catch up with them quickly. Most die around then but not ever looking a day over fifty.

  Mr. Williams is short, maybe about five foot six or so. He still towers over Mrs. Williams’s tiny frame. She can’t be more than five foot even. After we exchange pleasantries, everyone is seated with lemonade and sugar cookies. I figure it’s time to get to business. Being in a place so normal, with people who are everything but, is giving me the creeps.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I’m the new Grigori for the area. There have been reports of other Bâtardi going missing. The Amarok told us that you’ve had a family member gone missing recently,” I say and then take a sip of my lemonade. It’s very good.

  “Patrick,” Mrs. Williams says with emotion and worry.

  Jack pulls out a notebook from somewhere and begins to quietly make notes. I need to pay the man a wage or something at least.

  “He’s…?” I lead her.

  “He’s my nephew, my brother’s son.” She casts a glance towards Jesse. But Jesse’s face is impassive.

  “Are you two close?” I ask.

  “No,” she says in a rush. “After my brother chose not to become a wolf, we pretty much lost contact. His son, my nephew, I’ve only met a few times.”

  “So, your brother told you his son had gone missing?” I ask.

  “My wife’s brother died some twenty years ago.” Mr. Williams answers. “Patrick’s job called to tell us he was missing; we were still listed as his emergency contact.”

  Mrs. Williams reaches out her hand. Mr. Williams takes it giving it a little squeeze. For someone she’s only met a couple times, she’s obviously distraught. I notice more and more glances towards Jesse from the couple. He’s doing nothing to attempt to comfort them. He’s the ranking wolf in the room. Yet he looks like we aren’t talking about anything more than the weather. I’ve always thought Jesse wouldn’t be a good leader. Now I know it. Even I would give a damn if Jack was upset about something and I know I’m not the most empathetic person in the world.

  “Did you go to his home?” Tabari asks his first question.

  “No, we haven’t. I tried calling a few times, but I didn’t get an answer. I called to tell the Amarok after that. Jesse said he’d look into it.” Mrs. Williams answers quickly.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us that might help Mrs. Williams? Where he might go if he’s in trouble or anything at all?” I ask. She’s nervous and although I don’t think she’s trying to be ungracious, she keeps casting looks towards the front door. She wants us to leave.

  “No, I don’t know him very well at all,” she whispers and looks down into her lap.

  I thank her and get up. The relief in her eyes when we leave is evident but there is also hope in them. She wants us to find her nephew. We leave quickly, going back outside and get into the car. Tabari starts to say something.

  “Not yet,” I say. “I don’t want Jesse to pick up on our emotions and I’m having a hard time from keeping my thoughts from going down an unpleasant road. We’ll talk when we get home.” All of them nod their heads, but it’s evident we are all thinking the same thing. Something isn’t right with Jesse.

  Mr. Benjamin Greene lives in an apartment complex. No wife, no kids. He’s a white male werewolf that looks to be in his mid-forties. He welcomes us into his home. The apartment is a little cluttered and not too many places to sit so most of the guys stand. I sit on the sofa next to Mr. Greene with a cushion in between us. Jesse sits in a chair on the side of the sofa and just stares at Mr. Greene. It starts to irritate me. So, my voice is clipped a little more than it should be when I’m asking questions.

  It makes no difference. We get the same amount of information from Mr. Greene as we did from the Williams’. No, he’s not close to his niece. His brother slept with a human woman about twenty years ago and got her pregnant. They both are deceased now. Brandi Greene is the young girl’s name. I think it makes it worse to know their names. It makes them real.

  “How did you find out she was missing?” I ask.

  “Her fiancé called around looking for her. I told him I hadn’t seen her. I tried to call her a few times on her tablet to be sure she wasn’t just ignoring the kid. No answer; after that I called to tell the Amarok. Jesse said he’d look into it.” He answers like he’s reading off a goddamn script and he’s working hard to not even glance in Jesse’s direction. Sloppy, Jesse, very sloppy. I know you have something to do with this. I stand up quickly.

  “Well thank you for your time, Mr. Greene, we’ll be in touch if we find anything.” I hold out my hand; he shakes it, squeezing it just a little and so quick I wouldn’t have noticed it if my senses weren’t on high alert. It’s time to get out of here.

  We make it out to the sidewalk. I can feel Peter’s agitation coming from him in waves of heat. He almost growls at Jesse when he walks by us going to his Jeep. I cover it quickly, by cheerfully and loudly saying, “Thanks so much, Jesse. You’ve been a great help.” I even smile warmly up at him.

  He looks at me suspiciously. Ok time for plan B. I part my lips slightly and wet my bottom lip with my tongue; I even let my eyes glow a little. I step forward hugging him and grinding him with my pelvis a little and letting just a little of my succubus powers slip. I hear the intake of breath from him as he breaths in my pheromones. I reach beneath the back of his shirt and let my fingernails trail along his lower back to his side as I turn and pull away. I switch entirely more than is needed walking towards the car. When I turn around, he has a hungry look in his eyes. They are all for me. Not even glancing at Peter, good.

  I catch Lucien’s look, his nostrils are actually flaring. I shake my head just barely and flip my hair to cover the move. I probably look like a complete fucking bimbo. Thank all the gods and goddesses of the worlds Lucien turns and gets in the car without a word.

  When we
are all in the car, I sigh. I swear I won’t explain myself to him. I’m not his. But then I find myself saying, “I needed to distract him from Peter. That’s all it was.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to do that. You’re a Daemon Kindred Grigori. That behavior is beneath you.” Lucien says tightly.

  “It’s my fault and I’m sorry. But I know he has something to do with this. I just wanted to rip his fucking throat out.” Peter says beside me. He’s working hard on controlling his breathing.

  “We all want to rip his fucking throat out. It’s not your fault. Your wolf is new,” Tabari says.

  “I’d like to sink my knife in his gut and rip him open,” I say forcing a light tone.

  “Hang him upside down and drain him dry,” Jack says.

  Tabari adds, “Make lightning strike him on a sunny day and roast him like a pig.”

  “Take his head from his shoulders,” Lucien says tightly.

  And so goes our ride home. A hundred and one ways to kill Jesse. They need an app for that. You’d think we were joking, but we are all deadly serious. None of us like bullies. Yeah bullies that don’t like bullies, so what.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sins of the Father

  The sun is setting and all of us are exhausted; or rather irritated by the time we make it back home. We can’t dare go to Big Mike without proof. Now that I’m Grigori, I can’t just kill Jesse. He’s protected by our laws. I have to make a formal complaint to the Elders which we definitely do not have time for.

  “Something bothers me about their stories. I know it’s not unusual for the pack to not have contact with ones that aren’t full blood.” I say out loud to no one in particular, my merry band of boy-men following behind me as I unlock the front door and walk into the house.

  “They kept looking to Jesse for approval. They were afraid,” Jack says.

  “Neither family went to check their homes before telling Big Mike about it?” Peter adds in. “There’s no way I’m making a report of someone missing without going to their homes first.”

  “They either were warned off by Jesse, or they went to their homes and saw something they didn’t want to admit to in front of Jesse,” Jack says.

  I nod my head in agreement. “We should check it out. Not tell Jesse we’re going to visit their homes?”

  Lucien grunts his agreement and Tabari nods his head. I really am making up the Grigori business as I go along. I know it’s expected for me to have help, but I don’t feel ready to be a leader. Just two days ago I was on the run. Tabari has so much faith in me. I don’t want to fail him. I know whatever way he’d convinced the Elders to give me this chance hadn’t come cheaply to him. I won’t make his sacrifice be in vain.

  “I think we should go tonight, late when most of the city will be asleep. Tabari and Lucien if you’re willing we can go check it out around one or two in the morning. Peter I need you to cross check that list that Tabari has of the missing Bâtardi with the CNEA records. See if you can’t find a pattern in age, generation of carriers, area, and the time between disappearances as best you can guess.”

  With that, the meeting comes to an end. Lucien and Tabari get up saying something about getting the rest of their belongings out of the car. Peter goes upstairs to start on the research.

  I really needed to have a conversation about them staying here with Minx. I lean my head back on the sofa shutting my eyes for just a second.

  “Jae, I need to feed.” Jack is still sitting beside me on the sofa. I open my eyes and turn to look at him, his eyes are starting to dilate into that silver, the change that makes him dangerous. I hadn’t once spared a thought for his needs today. We hadn’t discussed where he’d get blood from now on. I feel like a shit. I am a shit. He’s taken care of me without a thought, always having what I need at hand. Putting up with Lucien. I haven’t even made sure he was fed. Knowing what torturous delights I want to revel in, I should at least see that his basic needs are met.

  “Damn, Jack, I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out to take his hand in mine.

  “It is fine, Jae. I’m fine. You have a lot on your mind. If it was a problem earlier, I would have said something. But we have our meeting with Madame Valentine tomorrow night. I can help you; tell you the things she likes. I can help you feed Peter, but I won’t be much help if I have little control over my blood lust. I’m pushing my limits.” Jack says, reaching over and brushing my hair behind my ear.

  He grabs me by the back of my neck suddenly and draws me to him kissing me full on the lips. It’s a good kiss, my body shifts to lean into him further. For a slave, the man really is a take charge kind of guy. I pull back finally and look up to him.

  “Where will you find someone to drink from? I don’t want going to the Secret without me.” My eyes widen in concern. I’ll go with him of course, if that was the only place he could find to fill his need. I’d brave the bitch’s den again if Jack needs me to.

  “There are blood dens. There’s one not too far from here near the market district. I’ll be fine. I am over a hundred years old you know, Jae,” he says smiling down at me as he stands up. “If I can’t find blood to drink without getting hurt, I’d be a pretty pathetic vampire.”

  I smile up at him, but I want to go. I want to be sure he’ll be safe. I don’t like the thought of him not being close.

  He leans over then kissing me on my check. “But knowing you’ll worry for me makes my cold, dead heart go pitter patter.” And then he’s gone, out of the door. I sigh a little thinking of the kiss we just shared.

  “Brujas locas!” I hear Minx cussing in rapid Spanish coming down the stairs, with clothes on, thank the goddess.

  Crazy witches? I think she says. She goes on to ramble something about her gem. Peter comes down the stairs right behind her. They begin talking back and forth in a conversation too fast for my smattering of Spanish to follow. Since when does Peter know Spanish?

  “What is she saying?” I ask Peter.

  “She went to the witches? She tried to get her gem recharged today, but they said no and to come back in a week. I think you can guess at the rest.” I don’t understand what she is saying word for word, but I hear puta quite a few times. Someone is a bitch.

  That explains why she is in her human form. She never likes being on two legs. I’ve never seen her panther form and I’m in no rush to see it either. The woman is all spice and nothing nice. I don’t want to experience her anger when she has claws that can gut me. Someone needs to charge this woman’s gem, like right now.

  Peter is trying to calm her, and from what I can tell, he is doing a fair job of it. Huh, who would have known? But then Peter has always been a people person.

  The original spell on the gem is still good. It needs another charge and only a magic user can do it. The witches around here aren’t strong enough to do the original enchantment. But they have enough mojo to recharge the spell when it’s needed. I’ve had to go to them to charge my diamonds before.

  Being in their coven always creeps me out. It never feels like the same magic as Tabari’s, like ozone and a coming storm. Nevertheless, it gets the job done and a daemon on the run isn’t allowed to be picky about where she gets her illegal magic from. I don’t worry about the coven distorting the spell on the gem. Once a gem is enchanted, you can’t change the spell on it. The gem has a purpose and that is all it will ever be.

  Tabari walks in with Lucien, the pair of them carrying a trunk between them, Lucien walking backwards. I don’t think it is too heavy for either of them alone. But it is large and awkward enough to need two pairs of hands. They make it into the living room without knocking anything over, thank goddess, and set it softly down next to the coffee table. I don’t think I’ve seen either of them ever do manual labor.

  “Ok, Minx. I’ll ask,” Peter says in a calm voice.

  “Minx would like to know if Tabari could recharge her gem. In exchange she won’t charge extra rent for the…” he pauses looking at her. She nods his head
in encouragement. “She won’t charge rent for the rest of us no good sanguijuelas? Blood something? I’m not sure.”

  “Leeches,” Tabari chimes in. “No good leeches. And tell her of course, I’d be happy to.”

  She takes off the gemmed collar, handing it to Tabari. She looks over to me, nods, and stomps back up the stairs. I definitely like her better as a cat. I look over to Peter he shrugs and goes back up the stairs.

  Lucien opens the trunk. It holds a small arsenal, complete with things that go boom strapped to the lid of the trunk. Some of the explosives hold magical charms to freeze a person or set something on fire that won’t go out no matter how much water you pour onto it. Hand guns and semi-automatics fill a tray. I’m not great with guns; I can use them but knives are my specialty.

  Lucien carefully lifts the tray out, setting it on the coffee table. Underneath lay his sword and scabbard. I hadn’t wondered why he wasn’t carrying it. He’d never gone anywhere back home without it. I thought, I assumed, he’d left it behind when he came to the human world. He’s just as deadly without it.

  Its pommel is large enough to use two handed, but I’d seen him use it one handed as well. His father had given him the sword, he’d once told me. I watch him carefully lift it out the trunk and check the blade. I know, like my knives, it’s his most prized possession. He quickly sets it aside and lifts a knife still in its sheath from the trunk. My eyes widen as I realize it’s the twin to the blade I have strapped to my thigh. I’d thought it was lost forever. He hands it to me with a smile.

  I take it in my hand, feeling a tightness in my chest. My father had them made for me when I told him I wanted to be a Reaper. He encouraged me and helped me on my chosen path as much as he could. I remember right before I left for my training, he gave them to me telling me to follow my heart, there would never be a truer compass for me to follow in life no matter how difficult the path.