“That were questioned the human locked up in the female pens,” Micah said as if he was sharing gossip.
“Ula?” Killian said, and his entire body went on alert.
“She has a sister who was kidnapped at the same time.”
“Missing weres in Canada,” Killian filled in the blank. He’d heard some of the intelligence. There were a slew of missing weres all over North America. There were some missing from Europe. The bird from the southern United States was also one of the reports. There was a snow tiger from Nepal who had been kidnapped. “Is there a count?”
“Fifty-three captive weres are present,” Micah said. “From the humans’ paperwork, it appears there were twenty-two casualties. Experiments gone wrong. Some escape attempts. Some of them were let loose in the woods to be tracked. We’ve found about eighteen of the bodies. The sister is among the missing.” The younger were frowned. “They hunted them like animals.”
Killian couldn’t help the deep growl that emanated from his chest. Micah looked startled and stepped back, but he said nothing. Micah was about three years younger than Killian and had only been in the Colorado Clan for a year, but he seemed like a good were and was popular with most of the members. He even got along with the elusive Emma.
“Run a sweep through the tunnels,” Killian instructed. “Warn the other clan Alphas. The Council is here, and I don’t think they’ll be waiting on stragglers.”
Micah looked at the Council’s team as they gathered together. They didn’t talk. They didn’t move around excessively. They gathered into a tight formation and systematically checked their gear. “That looks like explosives,” he said, eying packs slung to their backs.
“Do your sweep, Micah,” Killian said. “And hurry.”
Micah vanished into the blackness of the tunnels.
One segment of the Council’s team broke off. A tall man with black hair and black eyes stopped to look at Killian. Killian stared back. He didn’t know who was more dominant but Killian wasn’t one to back down from a fight. He knew what the Council was capable of doing, and he didn’t approve, no matter how harrowing the situation.
“My name is Shade,” the were said. He was six feet tall and then a half foot past that. It beat out Killian’s six feet two and then some. Killian didn’t move. The were added, “You know who we represent. We’re taking over. Get your weres out.” He began to turn away, but Killian said, “Already in the process, boyo.”
The were named Shade stopped his turn, smiled grimly, and studied Killian. “I know you. I know what you did in the human world,” he said to Killian. Killian didn’t bother to respond. Reputedly the Council kept track of weres who thwarted their mandates. Being part of the Irish military wasn’t something specifically forbidden, but it was frowned upon.
Killian tried to guess what Shade was. He wasn’t a cat, but he wasn’t something easily recognizable either. Bear, he decided. Grizzly, if I’m not mistaken. Hellfire and brimstone.
“And the humans in the cafeteria?” Killian said just as Shade started to step off again.
Shade hesitated only for a moment. “They’ve made their beds.”
“They’re not all guilty,” Killian snapped. “Some of them are janitors.”
“Guilty by association,” Shade snapped back. “They know too much. Do you really want to get into this now?”
“The manager of the facility is in there with them,” Killian said. “His name is Whitfield Dyson. He knows about the missing weres. He might know where some of them are. There’s a were who was helping kidnap our people. His name is Martinez. He’s in California now with one of the kidnapped weres. I’m thinking you might want to hold back a mite. After all,” he added sarcastically, “you can always slit their throats later.”
“The news media will be catching on,” Shade said coldly. “Too many military helicopters in a tourist area. Too many figures wearing black. Too many things that cannot be explained with normal circumstances. There won’t be witnesses.”
“There’s a doctor who protected us,” said another voice. It was the bird were named Xandra and it was she who had called the Colorado Cat Clan. She had waited for the Sikorsky to show them the way to the facility. “A human doctor,” she said. Her pale hair fluttered in a faint breeze. “They threatened his family.”
“That’s what the human told you,” Shade sneered.
“No,” Xandra said, “it’s what Whitfield Dyson said to the human once outside the pens, when he thought we couldn’t hear them since he thinks we’re stupid and animals. They’re not all guilty.”
Shade rolled his eyes. “How many humans are there?”
“Twenty-five,” Killian said.
Shade turned his head. He growled, “Arrange transport for prisoners. We’ll let the Council figure out who gets to live. Make sure the manager of the facility gets the best accommodation.”
Killian started to say something else, but one shot echoed distantly from the forest. “Be damned,” he muttered. He hoped the ones in the forest with the guns didn’t have silver in their bullets, but he thought they might.
Xandra took her t-shirt off. “I’ll find out what’s happening,” she said and began her change. A few moments later, the oversized dove took to the skies.
Killian glanced at Shade, who critically examined the crew of the Sikorsky. “It’s not like they saw a werewolf,” he said to Shade. “Who are they going to tell they saw a weredove?”
Shade chuckled. At least Killian assumed it was a chuckle. The chuckle abruptly cut off. “Get your weres out now,” Shade said again. There was a finality to it that was frightening.
A trickle of awareness came to Killian. The scent drifted from the tunnels. It was all her. She was moving around. Searching for her sister? Killian would have gone to help but Micah was swift and comprehensive. He would check for weres in every corner, and he would do it quickly. If they were alive, they would be evacuated. Killian had other things to do, and he needed to do them posthaste.
Killian found his satphone and called a smaller clan in Idaho for backup. He also called one in Montana, but he wasn’t certain if they could reach the facility in time. They were centered in Butte, 140 miles away as the crow flew, and they weren’t werecrows.
Another were approached. It was one of the Cat Clan’s Elite Warriors. His name was Aydon, and he was originally from Turkey, although he no longer had an accent. He was as tall as Killian and dark haired with brown eyes. His animal was a leopard that was officially extinct in the human world. The humans didn’t need to know that the strain existed in were form. It wouldn’t have helped develop a new line of leopards in any case.
Aydon said, “All the weres are loaded except the warriors, the Council’s team, and that female were with the big mouth.”
Killian would have sighed, but he cut it off before he could exhale. “Ula, right?”
“I think that’s her name. Black hair. Wearing scrubs. Pissed the fuck off.”
“Can’t blame her.”
“Are we leaving the humans for the Council?” Aydon asked curiously.
“Do you want to arm wrestle them for control? I’d do Jell-O shots, myself.”
“I do not.”
There was a distant roar.
“Are we betting on whether Wheeler leaves any pieces?” Aydon asked.
Killian saw Shade approach from the tunnels and slyly asked Aydon, “You know the rangers in the park warn tourists to wear bells to warn off bears?”
“Huh?” Aydon said.
“And to carry pepper spray,” Killian added. “Also, to look out for bear scat. You can tell what kind of bears are out there by looking at their shite.”
“I try to make it a habit not to look at bear shit,” Aydon said.
“Brown bears’ shite has berries and squirrel food in it,” Killian said wryly. “Grizzlies’ has bells and smells like pepper spray.”
Aydon had to think about it, but he smiled weakly. Then he turned and saw Shade. “Oh, you did
n’t just…yeah, you did. I gotta see a man about a horse.” Then he sidled away.
“I don’t like bells or pepper spray,” Shade said.
Killian shrugged.
“We’re going to need an hour for containment here. There will be bodies found but not weres. There will be nothing in the news about what really happened here. I’m told your Alpha is hunting his mate and several hunters who are after her. The hunters are prominent members of human society. They will have to be neutralized.”
Told by whom? And what does neutralized mean? Oh hell, I know what it means.
Two distant gunshots punctuated Shade’s statements.
“There might be something left of them when Wheeler’s done, I’m thinking,” Killian said. “You can say it was a bear attack.”
“He’s got an hour, and then we’re going after them,” Shade warned ominously.
“Wheeler’s a big guy and a bigger were,” Killian said. “If you feel like playing footsie with him, you won’t be dealing with just him, but his whole clan.” He smiled, but it really wasn’t a smile. It was a show of teeth.
A little while later, there was another gunshot and then the remote screaming of a human. Killian didn’t care overly. If Wheeler was doing something to a human, the chances were better than good that the human deserved his fate.
A minute after that, Killian heard Wheeler’s frantic cry for him, and he scrambled to help. He cast one look over his shoulder at the facility.
Micah ripped out of the tunnels carrying a struggling figure. He dumped her on the ground, and Killian saw that it was Ula. Micah had bound her hands and feet. “Stop struggling, woman,” Micah snapped. “The Council’s planting explosives right now. You don’t want to be in there when they blow them.”
“I don’t give a shit what the Council is doing!” Ula yelled. “There’s information in there that I need!”
Killian couldn’t help the ravenous snarl that emerged.
Both Micah and Ula looked at him and she blinked. Those pale blue eyes examined him minutely. Micah stepped back immediately, hands in the air.
Christ, Killian would have fallen into those eyes, but Wheeler’s entreaties for help were paramount. Ula was fine. Better than fine, he thought as he studied her in return. He would find her later.
“Micah,” Killian growled, “get one of the medics. Make sure they have their equipment. Someone’s hurt. Probably Emma by the sounds of it.”
There was a flutter, and a heavy weight landed on Killian’s shoulder. Startled, he looked at the weredove clawing into his shirt for purchase. “Xandra,” he said. He wanted to say something inane like, “Where are they, girl? Trapped down a well?” but he thought the weredove might take exception and claw his eyes out. The were used her beak to pull at his hair.
“The dove knows where they are,” Killian said. “Follow her.”
Xandra took off, and the Cat Clan’s Elite Warriors followed. Killian took a moment to kneel by Ula. She didn’t say anything as she stared at him. For the moment it seemed as though she was as thunderstruck as he was. He pulled a knife from his boot and cut her free. “They’re blowing the place,” he said. “Micah’s gone through it. I’m thinking your sister isn’t in there.”
“There’s paperwork. There are the scientists to be questioned,” Ula said, and her voice was a barely suppressed volcano. “Whitfield Dyson will know what happened to Claire. Let me talk to him for five minutes.”
“The Council has him, love,” Killian said and held out a hand for her to grasp. She didn’t need the help, but she used it to rise to her feet. Ula tottered for a second, and Killian’s hands wavered.
Ula’s scent was addictive. Musky. Spicy. Feminine. Killian wanted to close his eyes and bury his nose in her neck. And that would be the worst thing you could do, acting the maggot around this particular female.
“Don’t go back in the tunnels,” he said pleadingly.
Ula checked herself and looked at him. She had to know, right? She has a were’s nose. She has to be able to tell.
Killian wasn’t sure.
“Cat,” Ula said and it was nearly a swear word, “I’ll do as I wish.”
“Jaysus, then,” Killian swore in exasperation. “I need to help my Alpha. If you hold off, I’ll help you.”
Ula stared at him with those pale blue eyes, and the stare nearly unmanned him. Finally, he turned into the forest. He didn’t look back to see what the female was doing or not doing.
~
Now
The Council was remarkably secretive, except when it came to punishing weres who stepped out of line. The Council’s team would appear swiftly and appropriate the imprudent were and then disappear after their work was done. There were avenues of contact that Ula attempted. None were answered, and her impatience overruled her. She communicated with every clan she could. She begged, but her begging didn’t sound any more sincere than it actually was. The word finally came back to her. The Council would not permit her to speak with Whitfield Dyson. There wasn’t a response about Claire. There would be no further responses to Ula’s urgent demands.
So Ula decided she would find Whitfield herself. She didn’t care what the Council had been doing with him. She didn’t care whose fur she ruffled. Claire could still be out there, and Dyson was the human who had the information.
Ula’s own Alpha had been coldly sympathetic. “Don’t. Ula, just don’t,” he had told her over the phone. “They’re not happy with your questioning of their motives. They’ll find Claire. They’ll return her to us if they can.”
It had been weeks, if she didn’t count the initial term of captivity, and Ula wasn’t happy either. Claire was the baby of the family. Her parents were mourning the teenager as if her body had been found with the others. Ula wasn’t about to give up. She had leverage, and she was prepared to use it.
Ula traced the Council’s headquarters to Paris. It wasn’t like they were listed in the Yellow Pages or had their own Facebook page. In fact, the weres Ula had pressured were remarkably reluctant to discuss the Council.
And him, the one she’d seen at the military facility? At the very end, he hadn’t been there for her. Ula hadn’t expected him to be. It was clear that he was part of one of the big clans who had come to rescue the kidnapped weres. In fact, she didn’t even know his name. Just plain old him.
I don’t need to know his name, Ula’s inner beast said pertly.
Two days in Paris, and all Ula had was the name of a were who hung out in an off-street tavern. As soon as Ula told a cabdriver the name of the tavern, he’d thrown her out of the taxi. Ula didn’t like that much either, but she had a nose, and other weres in the city weren’t so aware of their surroundings. There was too much noise, too much to smell, too much going on. They didn’t always realize that a single were was trailing them.
Despite their indifference, it took her three days to find the tavern. It lay down a cobblestoned alley in Place Pigalle, the red light district of Paris. Ula had to wade through strip clubs, sex shops, and prostitutes who eyed her with avarice or suspicion, depending on their attitude. Hustlers called in many languages from the doors of various shops, entreating her to enter. It didn’t matter that she was a woman. She was seemingly a tourist with money to spend.
Even on a weeknight, the Boulevard de Clichy was the epitome of business as usual in Place Pigalle. The neon lights overwhelmed Ula’s senses. Everything flashed or blinked or blathered at her. People poured out of the metro and got to the business of gawking or utilizing the local flora and fauna.
One bold man had slid an arm around her shoulders, speaking to her in a language she didn’t know. She assumed he thought she was for sale. After he was lying on the sidewalk, screaming and clutching his broken arm, she assumed he had abruptly changed his mind.
Grimacing, Ula saw more than a few tourists taking photos with their cell phones. They were going to remember the short woman with the limp, using the cane with the silver wolf head on it.
; Damn the city, she thought. No woods to run in. Nowhere to hide.
A minute after the man had grasped his mistake, Ula was fading into the only shadows available. One of the rues was seemingly abandoned for the moment. She took a breath and found the weres she had been following. They hadn’t looked back when she’d dissuaded the human from his attentions. There was so much noise here with hawkers and music coming from various establishments that they hadn’t paid attention at all. They passed the Place Pigalle metro entrance and the bright lights of the circle there. They also passed a hotel named Le Chat Noir, which made Ula blink.
Finally, they turned into a quiet alley, and Ula held back. If they were inclined, they could easily look back and spot her. She stood out like a sore thumb. The tourists were more interested in the bright lights and flashing breasts. The alley off Boulevard de Rouchechouart was deserted. In fact, it was only a little entrance that most people wouldn’t have noticed anyway.
But Ula could smell more weres. Many had come this way. There were cats and wolves and others she couldn’t recognize. Their musk was strong, and abruptly she got another whiff of something that beckoned to her. She shifted her weight on her toes and looked over her shoulder. The street wasn’t empty, but there was no one there who seemed to be interested in her.
Ula thought about it and ignored her instincts. She plunged into the darkness of the tiny alley. A half-block in, and she found the insignificant sign hanging from a wrought iron support above the door. It wasn’t neon. It didn’t blink. It didn’t have a hawker perched in the door yelling about the size of the girls’ goodies. It simply said “L’Antre de la Bête.” She thought about what the words meant for a long moment. She wasn’t sure about the first part but “la Bête” meant the beast.
Crescent Moon Page 2