Crescent Moon
A Cat Clan Novella
By
C.L. Bevill
Published 2013 by C.L. Bevill
on Smashwords
© 2013 by Caren L. Bevill
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
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This novella is a companion piece to the Moon Trilogy
and the third in the Cat Clan novellas.
The order is:
Black Moon
Amber Moon
Silver Moon
Harvest Moon
Blood Moon
Crescent Moon
Much appreciation to Mary E. Bates, freelance proofreader of ebooks, printed material, and websites. Contact her at [email protected]
Chapter 1
Slipping softly through the sky
Little horned, happy moon,
Can you hear me up so high?
Will you come down soon?
On my nursery window-sill
Will you stay your steady flight?
And then float away with me
Through the summer night?
— an excerpt from The Crescent Moon
by Amy Lowell
~
The dog for the man, the cat for the woman.
– English Proverb
~
Then
“The human was hiding in a broom closet,” one of the Cat Clan’s Elite Warriors said as he held onto the man wearing the bedraggled suit. The suit had been Brooks Brothers. Now it was muddied, shredded, and ripped. The man in the suit cringed from the warriors and tried to back away. The warrior growled at him and held him firmly by the upper arm. The warrior’s eyes were a mere slit; it was a testament to the high level of anger within the werecat.
The one who had been addressed, Killian O’Donnell, looked at the human in the suit. “You would be the manager of the facility,” he said.
The man didn’t say anything.
Killian sighed. “Was I asking a question?” His Irish accent was thick. He briefly wondered if the man didn’t understand, so he carefully controlled his tongue. He wasn’t happy with what had happened at this remote, antique military site, so his control was less than perfect. He held a clipboard with a sheath of papers fastened to it. With growing horror, he had been thoroughly reading the notes of some of the facility’s scientists. He tapped the clipboard on the desk beside him, making a loud sound. The human jerked. “Your name is Whitfield Dyson, is it not?” Killian asked specifically.
“I want a lawyer,” the human muttered.
The Elite Warrior at the man’s side chuckled. “The Council doesn’t provide lawyers, dumbass.”
Killian ran his fingers through his hair. The normally tawny brown hair was dirty. There was a lot of dust in these tunnels. He’d spent the better part of the last hour tracking down all the various humans running around like chickens with their heads cut off. He was pretty sure he smelled heavily of musk and sweat. The cat inside him was close to coming out, and he could feel the skin on the back of his knuckles itching with the need to let his claws emerge. But there was something else pushing at his senses. Something had been provoking him to go and wait where other Clan Warriors had been working on a set of barricaded doors. Kidnapped female weres had fortified themselves inside a room until help had come. The females didn’t trust their words, and from what Killian had seen, he couldn’t blame them. It had taken the familiar voice of the New York Clan’s Alpha to get the women to open it.
Something inside him pushed at him, and he was gritting his teeth as he went along with doing what he knew had to be done, instead.
The location was an old military facility. It had been abandoned decades before because of its proximity to the unstable Yellowstone area of Wyoming. Lately, it was a private group’s gallery of horrors. Weres had been kidnapped. They had been experimented upon. Worse things had happened.
Killian was a were, otherwise known as a shifter, an individual who has the ability to change into an animal form. He’d been born a were. His mother was a cougar were. His father was a wildcat were. The cougar genes had been predominant in Killian. He’d moved from Ireland years before because weres tended to be independent. He wanted a clan with more freedom than the Irish one. He’d found it in the Colorado Clan, but he wasn’t in Colorado at the moment.
Days before, his clan’s second in command, Emma Lucia, had been kidnapped and brought here. Consequently, the Alpha were, Christopher Wheeler, had pretty much lost his mind. The two were mates, a pair of weres who were meant to be together, but they’d been dancing around each other for years. Since Wheeler had shared Emma’s history with Killian, Killian now understood why.
Only recently, humans had taken Emma with the help of a rogue were, and it was hardly her first experience with a rogue were. The think tank wanted to experiment with the DNA of the weres. They wanted their own army of weres. They also didn’t mind using the weres as exotic hunting game in order to secure financing from rich investors.
“Does he have a wallet?” Killian asked the warriors. Donate a million bucks, hunt a were creature! The words swirling in his head made the gums in his mouth itch. The fangs were only a heartbeat away from materializing. A heartbeat after that. he would be using them on the human, but he controlled himself.
A moment later, the leather bifold was handed to Killian. Killian looked inside. “Yes, Whitfield Dyson. Driver’s license from New York. My goodness, he has a wife and two children! Looks like they’re in high school. How proud they would be of Daddy.” He threw it back at Dyson. Dyson looked up, startled, and reached down to collect the wallet. He put it in his jacket pocket with a shaking hand.
“I have money,” Whitfield said.
“Your family will need it when you’re gone,” Killian said. “Bring him.”
The two Cat Clan Warriors dragged the human with them. Killian didn’t need to ask where Christopher Wheeler had gone. He could scent Wheeler’s rage as if it was palatable. All he had to do was follow it like it was a neon arrow. But the scent was muddled with something else. Every part of Killian strained like an animal on a tight bit to figure out what it was that was bothering him.
At the exit was a pen that was open to the woods and the darkness. Wheeler stood there, but he was hardly relaxed. The energy pouring off the Alpha was similar to what would happen when one stuck a moistened finger into an electrical outlet.
Wheeler’s head didn’t move even when one of the Cat Clan Warriors threw Whitfield Dyson to the ground.
“This is the manager of the facility,” Killian said sharply. “They have an expanded scientific agenda for their subjects. They use some of their research for medical applications.” He paused and said, “They also have a breeding program.” He waited for the feline explosion, and when it didn’t come, he added, “They also have several other ways of raising money. Some of their donors are allocated special hunting permits for the game in this area. It’s usually listed as cougars or gray wolves. Nothing endangered at the moment.”
/> “His name?” Wheeler’s voice was flat.
“Whitfield Dyson,” Killian said and crowded behind Whitfield as the man tried to inch away. Some of the other clan members streamed out behind them and one said with clear revulsion, “They hunted our kind.”
Killian’s head came up at the sound of the voice. Every part of his body was rigid with his immediate attention. She came out of the blackened tunnels, and the various lights illuminated her pale blue eyes. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders. She was dressed in medical scrubs, but they didn’t detract from her innate femininity. He could tell a number of things just by looking at her. She was enraged. The tautness of her muscles revealed her utter fury. Her eyes found Whitfield Dyson, and she could have ripped his throat out with her bare teeth. She added, “And killed them, too. Let me have him. He’ll suffer endlessly.”
Killian had an urge to rush over to her, so he could scent her neck. He wanted to throw himself at her. One of the other women said something to her. The woman with the pale blue eyes brushed her off. He shook his head, clearing the unusual feelings roiling through him just in time to hear Whitfield say, “I’ll tell you if you let me live.”
Killian chortled, but it was half-hearted. “Fat chance, boyo.”
Wheeler put his hand around Whitfield’s neck and lifted him into the air as if he was a cotton ball. He held the man up high above himself and watched as the suited man asphyxiated and kicked his feet helplessly.
Killian shook his head. “Stupid man. Don’t piss off a were. You’ve had this place for months, and you haven’t learned that?” He wanted to look back at the woman with the pale blue eyes. One of the other weres was speaking to her in a whisper, but he could hear the words. “Ula, he’ll pay. He’ll pay. He’ll wish he was dead.”
“I won’t kill you,” Wheeler said. The Alpha made sure that Whitfield Dyson understood that weres weren’t to be trifled with. With that, Wheeler was done with words. He changed into the lion that he was, and the nonverbal message was sent, with the force of a guided missile, was that he would never be allowed to touch another were.
When Killian looked back over his shoulder, the woman he now knew was called Ula, was gone.
Killian craned his neck, seeking her out, and then kicked Whitfield in the side in mute frustration. Wheeler spun on his paws and shot into the blackness of the night. The Alpha was going to find Emma, and nothing would stop him.
* * *
Ula Bennett faded back into the tunnels. The Cat Clan members gave her a wide berth. Some of them could tell what she was, just as she could tell what they were. Like something out of a silly movie, weres of different species tended to dislike each other out of habit. The habit meant isolationism. Ula knew that meant they didn’t usually hang out with each other. Being trapped in the northern woods of her hunting grounds meant that she and her sister were forced to exist with werecats and in one case, a weredove.
I didn’t even know we had weredoves.
Methodically, she searched the tunnels of the former military facility. She would have screamed her sister’s name if she could have brought herself to voice her fear. Claire had been with the group of captive females until the previous week. She’d been darted and removed by Whitfield Dyson’s command. The subordinate human, Scott, had carried Claire out the doors while Ula had vociferously lost her mind and beat at the silvered bars with her hands until the flesh split and bled.
But Claire had not returned, and Scott wouldn’t tell Ula anything of her younger sister’s fate. In fact, the man had laughed at her concern.
The thought drew her back to the place she had spent the last month. Two of the Cat Clan Warriors stood at the entrance and looked at Ula as she approached.
One said, “She was one of the captives.”
“Puppy,” the other one said with a sniff.
“You don’t smell so great either,” Ula snapped. It wasn’t exactly true. Her nose wasn’t working very well at the moment. Something was interfering with her sense of smell, and she couldn’t quite figure it out. Something was pulling at her to return to where the Alpha lion had vanished into the forest, but Ula made herself ignore the senses that bombarded her. What she needed to do was find her sister, and her sister might still be inside the facility.
“Do you know anything about another wolf shifter?” she asked a moment later. “A female. She looks a lot like me. Black hair. My height. Same blue eyes.”
The first warrior shifted his weight on his toes. Obviously, he had discerned what Ula was saying. “No. They’ve got all the humans in the cafeteria. All of the weres are gathering near the main entrance. They’re arranging flights to their clans. You should check there. But be quick. The Council’s representatives are coming.” It was a warning all contained within five words.
“The Council,” Ula repeated. The Council was a group of weres that governed over the were world. They were the law – the final law. Furthermore, they were not known for their leniency. She thought about it for a moment. “They’ll destroy this place. They’ll destroy everything about it.”
The warrior nodded.
Ula looked past the two warriors. She could see the open cage doors. The one that the human was in was still locked. She didn’t really wonder why. No one wanted to let that particular man out. She stalked past the two weres without saying anything.
Ula stopped in front of the cage and looked inside. Scott was conscious again. He sat against the back of the cage. His head was bruised from Emma Lucia banging it against the side of the cage. There was also a lump on his high forehead from where Ula had kicked him while he was unconscious. While it was hardly sportsmanlike, Ula couldn’t regret the action. She was sorry she hadn’t kicked him in his testicles, as well as a few other choice locations.
“Human,” she growled.
Scott’s head snapped up. His washed-out blue eyes were full of terror. It isn’t very nice being in a cage with strangers all around you, doing things that you don’t know about, laughing about your distress, keeping silent when you ask a question, is it?
He cringed back, even though he couldn’t go anywhere.
“You’ll tell me what happened to my sister,” Ula said, “or I’ll eviscerate you while you’re still breathing.” She showed him the knife that Emma had left for her. German steel, it was a very sharp knife that glittered in the fluorescent lights.
~
Now
Killian stopped sharply and listened. The streets of Paris seemed to be deserted. For the moment the City of Lights was strangely silent. He’d been to Paris before, and at the time, it was crowded with people actively living, breathing, and existing. Not so much now. It was like the humans knew something was amiss and had withdrawn into the relative security of their homes and businesses.
He smelled carefully. She was around. He wasn’t about to let her go. Not this time. Not again. She wouldn’t like it much, but she needed to understand she was no longer alone.
An ironic smile quirked his lips. That’s hilarious. Somewhere all of my Clan Warriors are having a good laugh on me. Who would have thought?
There was an itching sensation in between his shoulder blades. He’d been a trained warrior for too long to ignore it. There had been a brief stint in the Irish Army, culminating in the Sciathán Fiannóglach an Airm, or the Army Ranger Wing. But having to hide what he was ruffled his tail, and he didn’t last long. Furthermore, the Council wasn’t happy about those weres who tempted fate by being in positions where their otherworldliness could be exposed. The Irish Army Ranger Wing was such an example.
Listening to his instincts, Killian made the shadows into his very good friend.
Chapter 2
The cat is honest when the meat is out of her reach.
– Proverb
~
Then
“Shite,” Killian said. The Council’s team offloaded their helicopters without landing. The helicopters had a whisper mode, and even Killian didn’t know what the model was
. He wondered if the United States military possessed some of the sleek, ultra-quiet transports or whether they even knew about them. They were nearly silent, and the light from below seemed to be absorbed into the blackness of the helicopters’ exteriors.
Weres dressed in black rappelled down lines thrown from the sides of the helicopters. A few of the weres simply jumped from the helicopters and landed on their feet, walking away as if they had simply taken a single step down. Killian hadn’t seen so many badasses since he was in the Irish Army Ranger Wing. And they had been humans. Mostly.
One of the Cat Clan’s Elite Warriors came to a stop beside Killian. His name was Micah. “I didn’t call them,” he said defensively. “I mean, there was a rumor going around a little while ago, but I didn’t think they’d really show up.” Killian didn’t glance at Micah. Sometimes the Council that governed all the weres could be likened to the boogeyman.
“They’ve got their sources,” Killian said. “Maybe one of the other clans.” He cast an eye out into the darkness of the forest. Somewhere out there Wheeler was tracking his mate. It was altogether too quiet. He had wanted to help Wheeler, but there were circumstances to be considered.
The New York Clan hustled their weres out of the facility as if they knew something was amiss. A cadre of vans had appeared and weres were loading up without comment or fuss. Most wanted to be away from this terrible place as soon as was possible. The Sikorsky and their U.S. team waited by the open field, ready to take off. The engines of the Sea Stallion rumbled and further concealed the arrival of the latest visitors to the remote site. The human military crew was all wide-eyed and full of incredulity. Although they hadn’t witnessed Wheeler’s change, they knew something unbelievable was happening. Killian didn’t know how that was going to be explained, but the Council would likely take care of it in some politically correct fashion. Or not, if they’re feeling cranky, Killian amended.
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