Crescent Moon

by Bevill, C. L.

  Taking a break from the actual door for a moment, her eyes scanned the area. There wasn’t a security camera or any kind of device that might allow the Council’s security to see who was at their doorstep. This was undoubtedly one of many entrances.

  Guarded? Of course, it should be. So where’s the guard? Where’s the key?

  Ula’s lips twisted. Well, color me disgruntled. She glanced at her cane. It wasn’t meant as a pry bar, but it was worth giving it a try.

  Perhaps, if the light was on, I could…be any dumber?

  Her fingers touched the light. The little flip handle on the side popped up immediately and the light pulled out, revealing a small key panel. And I thought I would have to perform a ritual sacrifice.

  “Open sesame,” Ula said, pushing the intercom button.

  And would you look at that? The door opened. An array of smells instantly attracted her senses, and she jerked as one in particular grasped her attention and wouldn’t let go.

  The blackness inside yawned like an ancient demon from a shadowy hell.

  Just before Ula stepped inside the murk, she heard a far-flung noise. Something was approaching quickly from the area of the train platforms, and it wasn’t a train. It hesitated for a moment, and a coughing cry echoed through the tunnel. Its silhouetted figure abruptly dashed toward her.

  Awareness struck Ula with a very interesting twist of her gut. I thought I saw…a cat?

  Chapter 8

  I did. I did thee a puddy tat.

  – Tweety

  ~

  Then

  Late summer in Canada wasn’t exactly like late summer in the states, Killian had to admit. He wore a parka. The air jockey who had flown him into the area, landing in Hudson Bay with a snorting laugh, was wearing a Hawaiian shirt complete with palm trees and leis. Upon viewing Killian’s attire, he’d also said something under his breath about, “It’s 7 degrees, dude, not 70 below.”

  Killian knew the pilot meant degrees Celsius, but Killian had gotten used to looking at the weather in degrees Fahrenheit. 44 degrees in the states. Kind of cold, but not in the Denver area. But it’s fecking summer.

  “No one here, man,” the pilot said as he let Killian out of the De Havilland Otter seaplane. There was an isolated dock with a name and some latitude and longitude coordinates on a metal sign hanging from the side. At the end, the plane nudged gently onto a rubber bumper. The waves from Hudson Bay made the plane bob up and down with temperate enthusiasm.

  Killian stepped out into a brisk wind, resisting a shiver. He looked around. The beach was fine gravel. The brush above the beach struggled to grow in the dismal summer. The world was shades of dusky gray and brown with hints of deep greens. It didn’t look like a place a wolf would live. If there was a forest or even just trees they were further inland, hidden beyond the curvature of the earth.

  “They’re around,” he said. Lots of places to run. There has to be some kind of cougars up here. Maybe some old mates. He eyed the sign. It said “Wolf’s Run.” Jaysus, that’s not obvious with that name?

  “Man, you don’t even have a rifle,” the pilot said. “Bears up here will eat you up in two bites and spit you out because you don’t taste like seal.”

  “Bears aren’t going to be interested in me,” Killian said.

  The pilot grimaced. He rubbed his bearded face. “As much as I’m all about the live and let live concept, if I drop a dude off in northern Manitoba, I don’t really want to hear about his bones being found scattered all over the tundra three years later. If they find any bits of you at all.”

  “Fly back to Churchill,” Killian said. “I’ll catch another ride back.”

  The pilot looked around. “No one here, man,” he repeated. “I mean, no one. I bring tours out here to see the bears. The big bears with cubs, and you see some university people out here. There’s Inui’s over to Tadoule Lake. There’s a group of people further in toward the Northwest Territories and Nunavut. But that’s like a hundred fifty miles through some of the roughest terrain around. Those folks come to Churchill once a year and load up on essentials, and they don’t talk to anyone, which is a killer shame because they’ve got cute girls in the family.”

  “Yeah, I kind of guessed they were like that.” Killian sighed. “How about some hunters up here a few months ago. Government types. After wolves. You remember them?”

  The pilot frowned. “Hired every pilot in the area. Scoured the area for wolves. They finally left after a couple of weeks. I heard tell that they bagged some Mackenzie Valley wolves, maybe something more exotic. They thought maybe they had some Manitoba wolves, which are supposed to be extinct. The rumor was that they took the wolves alive and flew them out in crates. Those government conservation people went insane.”

  “Wolves have a territory of about six hundred square miles,” Killian said, having done some research, thinking about a hundred miles of rough terrain to cover before reaching the settlement which was the home for Ula’s pack. The human’s group had known where to find the pack. There wasn’t another answer. They had come in from the east, acquired local resources without compunction, and done what they wanted. As soon as the two females had been kidnapped, the remainder of the pack had become wise and disappeared.

  There were implications to that that Killian didn’t want to think about, but he had. It had taken time and effort to find the Manitoba Clan of wolves. The contact he’d used previously to talk with them had been changed once the Wyoming site had been blown to bits. Killian hadn’t been able to physically speak with the wolf shifters, so he came in person. There had been a flight to Ontario. Then there had been three smaller planes, and it turned out that Killian wasn’t a fan of small planes. They were bumpy.

  “Okay, great, they can hang out in their territory, and I’ll fly over and take photos. In the meantime, you’re going to be bear bait if you try to go out there alone and without a rifle.” The pilot hung his legs out of the door and let them dangle. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and Birkenstock sandals. Killian couldn’t remember his name. He had chatted nonstop the entire 50 mile flight from Churchill. Any topic was of interest to him, especially once Killian had made it clear that he wouldn’t be discussing his reason for flying up to the distant coordinates. Something with a J.

  “Look, I’ll sleep in the plane. I’ve got nothing going on. You go do your thing, and come back tomorrow. You got a satphone, right? Call whomever you’re supposed to meet, and I’ll wait to make sure you’re not stranded.” The pilot grinned crookedly. “I’ll only charge half-price.”

  The pack won’t want any witnesses. “Tell you what, Jed,” Killian said.

  “Jake,” he said promptly.

  “Jake, sure. These folks around here don’t be wanting others in on their business,” Killian said smoothly. He adjusted the coat. He didn’t like the chilly wind, but it brought the scent of many weres to him. It was likely the pack was used to visitors and probably the odd tourist. They probably gave them a wide berth. Normally. But with what had happened, they had a group of weres guarding their dock. Most planes flying into the area were seaplanes and could land in the bay. Otherwise, they would have to fly north or south for one of the remote airstrips that were simply dirt tracks cut into remorseless tundra. Certainly, there were helicopters, but they didn’t have the range of the seaplanes.

  Jake nodded solemnly. “I’ve heard that about them.”

  “So if you’ll just leave me here, I’ll work it out with them, and they’ll make sure I’m taken care of. Otherwise, I’ve got your number on my satphone. I’ll be giving you a call one way or the other in a day or so to ease your soul. You follow me, boyo?” Killian flashed a smile at Jake that really wasn’t a smile.

  Jake, seemingly the kind of laid back human who rolled with the punches, wasn’t fooled. “Okay, dude,” he said. He reached in and pulled out Killian’s giant-sized pack, hauling the heavy load as if it were the weight of a woman’s purse. “Call me, eh? I’d hate to never know you were ok
ay. We could have the Mounties up here in, oh, two or three weeks to look for your rotting corpse. I hate transporting corpses. Do you know how long it takes to get the smell out of the interior of the plane?”

  Killian took the pack with his left hand and bumped fists with Jake with his right. Jake shrugged ruefully and withdrew into the plane. Killian gave the plane a little push that had it bobbing out into the waves. A moment later, Jake started the engines and the plane roared to life. He taxied into the deeper waters and gave a wave when he was far enough away. The engines roared anew in preparation for his run. A few hundred yards out, one wing tipped up and then it was airborne.

  Putting the big pack on the dock, Killian watched the plane take off. He didn’t look around because the weres sneaking up on him obviously wanted to surprise him. He didn’t hear them. He didn’t scent them because they had waited until the wind shifted. He didn’t even sense them in the way that he normally could do. They were very good, but it wasn’t that long of a dock, and well, it was what he would have done.

  “Should I be jumping like a little girl when I turn about?” Killian asked of no one in particular. “I don’t want to upset anyone when they’ve tried so hard to sneak up on a lone Irishman.”

  Someone cleared his throat, and Killian turned around, careful to keep his hands where they could be seen.

  Two weres stood there. Both were young men in their twenties. Their faces were grim and focused. One held a rifle with the muzzle pointing somewhere around Killian’s feet as if his toes were the primary threat. However, the former solider in Killian had to make note of the fact that the magazine was fully inserted, and the safety was off.

  “Manitoba Clan, am I right?” Killian asked and didn’t wait for an answer. “I brought Guinness Stout.” He rattled the pack with his foot, and the clink of glass against glass could be heard. “I also brought a nice side of beef to be braised. I was going to go with lamb, but I figured that might be conceived as rude.” He paused for a moment, then went ahead and explained, “You know, wolves and lambs? Baa-aaa.” It’s not a good way to be talking to future maritally related parties, laddie, he told himself.

  “He’s a cat,” one said.

  “No duh,” the other one said.

  “The other one was a cat,” the first one growled. “A stinking traitor of a cat.” His eyes went yellow and Killian sighed. They’d gotten a scent of Martinez when he’d been in the area hunting wolves to take back to Wyoming.

  “I’m with the Colorado Clan,” Killian said. “Killian O’Donnell is my name. My mother is an American cougar were. My father is an Irish wildcat. I got the cougar genes. I also have a lack of time. I’m here to see Braydon Bennett.”

  “Killian,” the second one asked with a little surprise. “Isn’t that the one who called about Ula?”

  “It’s true. I called your pack when we found out about the humans in Wyoming. I called a number of clans. There were a lot of missing weres, and the clans needed to know.”

  “But you didn’t rescue Claire,” the first one snarled. “And dammit to hell, what about—?”

  Killian didn’t need to be psychic to know that the first were had had his eye on Claire Bennett. Well, as I’m sliding down the banister of life, the splinters are pointed in the wrong direction, and my arse is going to ache something terrible. “There were others who weren’t rescued, as well. I didn’t see any of your pack down there.”

  The end of the rifle came up, and the second were patted it back down. “Aaron,” he said to the first. There was an odd expression on his face as if he had suddenly made up his mind about something, and he wasn’t going to explain. “He isn’t the enemy.”

  “He doesn’t know, Russ” Aaron said, staring at Killian.

  “Doesn’t know what?” Killian asked. The wolf shifters weren’t going to be his close compatriots anytime soon. In fact, they would keep things from him, and he needed to know more about Ula’s clan and more about Ula herself.

  Russ shrugged. “I think you’ll have to wait for that.”

  “Russ,” Aaron said slowly and deliberately, “he isn’t our friend either.”

  “I will be after you be tasting my beer braised beef,” Killian said confidently. What he really wanted was to see Ula Bennett again. He wanted to see her, smell her, let her know he was ready for the next step. If it took a year to get to know her properly, then that’s what it would take. Once he’d gotten his head out of his arse, it had been clear. Then it had taken precious time to find where Ula Bennett was from and how to reach her.

  “Shit,” Aaron said. “I’ll call the pack and ask them what they want to do with the cat. Maybe they’ll have more sense than you do, Russ. After all, we can just leave him out for the polar bears.”

  Killian blinked. “The pilot warned me about those. I didn’t really think I would see one.”

  Aaron laughed. “A cat that’s afraid of a bear about five hundred pounds bigger than him. Not so stupid after all.”

  “Five hundred pounds,” Killian repeated. “That’s one hell of a bear.”

  “Well,” Russ said, “that’s only the sows. The boars can weigh up to a thousand pounds more than your average mountain lion. And they’re hunting further and further away from the ice floes these days. Everything’s on their menu. I mean everything.”

  Aaron slung the rifle over his shoulder. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of the warm tundra day. I’m getting sunburned.”

  * * *

  The pack members staking out the dock turned out to be six in number. They spent a few minutes on their satphone. After receiving a terse response, they led Killian to a concealed helicopter further inland. Russ chuckled at Killian’s look. “It’s a hundred twenty miles of tundra, rocky hills, and rough wood, and I love my Land Rover, but it ain’t doing that today.” Four of the pack stayed behind to guard the dock area.

  Two hours later, they landed in terrain that Killian thought was more suited to wolves. There was timber and hills. Rocky peaks split the ground from some ancient cataclysm. There was a rough landing strip for regular planes and a metal hangar. A raggedy Land Rover sat nearby. Killian assumed it was Russ’s, and he wasn’t disappointed when they walked to it.

  Another thirty minutes, and they drove into a town. It wasn’t much. There were a number of small houses with high-peaked roofs to deter the heavy snowfall in winter. There was a general store and a large communal building. Children played in the street with puppies. It only took a moment for Killian to realize that it was children playing with other children who had shifted into puppies.

  The adults looked out windows and doors and were generally apprehensive in their expressions. These weres are hiding, Killian thought, and who can blame them after what happened?

  The children readily abandoned their game when they saw the newest arrival. They charged the Land Rover, and Russ chuckled good-naturedly. The weres had been closemouthed with Killian, and he hadn’t felt like pushing the issue. See. They have pups and a sense of humor. Could be worse. Could be Wheeler for the last five years before he finally opened his eyes to Emma.

  The Rover pulled up to the communal building, and there was a deluge of children, puppies, and adults wanting to know what was going on. When Killian stepped out of the vehicle an instant silence ensued.

  He stood alone for a moment. He surreptitiously used his nose and found that the Manitoba Clan wasn’t all wolf shifters, but there was a preponderance of canines. There were also some bears and a few that Killian wasn’t certain about. There were even some humans who were obviously fully aware of the circumstances. Good. Not completely bigoted. It’s a good sign.

  Of course, Killian changed his mind when the were stepped out of the building. He topped Killian by nearly a foot. He had gray hair and pale blue eyes that burned into Killian from the moment he sighted the werecougar. He was also nearly as wide as a proverbial barn, none of it was fat.

  Killian was locked on the were but he also noticed the petite woman who stepped
out beside him. They both gazed at Killian, however where the man’s vision was grimly penetrative, the woman’s was neutral, waiting to see what would happen. I couldn’t be this unlucky. Not a good Irishman from the auld country.

  “You’re the one who called,” the great were rumbled, “about the humans in Wyoming. You’re the one Ula won’t talk about.”

  I’m not sure how to be taking that. Killian let his gaze slip around the growing crowd. He couldn’t scent her. He would never forget her unique smell, so she had to be out of the town for the moment.

  “My own daughter won’t talk to me,” the tremendous were growled angrily, “because of this whole stinking situation.”

  Killian’s eyes widened. It had taken him a long moment. The great were was known to him. He’d seen him before. Years before in Europe when he’d been part of the Army Ranger Wing, he’d participated in Council-related activities, and he knew him, but he didn’t know him as the name he was using now. And it was the name he was using in the present that was most important.

  And I do have the worst luck, because that’s Braydon Bennett himself. The Alpha of the Manitoba Clan and Ula’s father. Jaysus and the saints above preserve us.

  ~

  Now

  The were standing in the shadows was tall and towered over her. He was lanky and whipcord thin. His hair was still wild. His eyes were still round. His chin was still pointed.

  “You,” he said with a heavy accent. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “The gatekeeper,” Ula breathed. The door shut behind her. They stood in an alcove made from rough stone. Outside was the newer construction of the train’s tunnels. Inside was much older. It stank with decay, mold, and ancient secrets. Obviously, the deeper parts of the underground had been here much longer than the metro tunnels.