The Killing Moon

by V. J. Chambers

  “I don’t think you did,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “You’ve been unconscious for hours now. Enough time for them to have noticed you were missing. If they knew where you were headed, they’d already have been here. I got rid of your car, just in case. But I think we’re safe.”

  She strained against the chains, angry suddenly. How dare he do this to her? “You bastard. Let me go.”

  The apologetic look was back on his face again. “This must really be quite awful for you. I wish I’d been more decisive. I really meant to have it over by now. I did. It’s just that I was in the middle of it, and I couldn’t.” He looked down at his feet, embarrassed. “The truth is, I used to have a crush on you when we were kids. There was a point when I thought maybe you had a crush on me too, but I couldn’t seem to work up the nerve to say anything or do anything.” He looked at her again. “I thought it was in the past. I thought I was over it. But when I saw you, I felt like a nervous teenager all over again.”

  She hated him. She hated him for doing that. For echoing her own thoughts, for feeling what she had been feeling, even if it seemed like so long ago that she’d pondered her attraction for him in his living room. He was still Cole, and he shouldn’t still be the Cole she knew. He’d revealed himself as a killer, and she was cut up and bloody from his attempt to murder her. He should show his true colors now. “Fuck you.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I’m guessing that if you did still have feelings for me, you wouldn’t admit them anymore.” He walked closer to her, took her chin in his hands, and turned her face.

  She cringed. He was hurting her neck, hurting her because he’d dug sharp teeth into her.

  He made a sympathetic face. “Ouch. Doesn’t look good. But you’ll heal pretty fast. You’re a wolf. It doesn’t look like it’s getting infected, although I guess maybe we should clean you up.”

  She jerked her head back, away from his touch. “You need help, Cole. You’re sick.”

  He only laughed, peeling her blood-crusted collar away from her skin. “I should have cleaned the wounds while you were unconscious, but I need to take off your clothes.” He looked her in the eye. “It seemed a little like a violation.”

  She laughed disbelievingly.

  “I know,” he said. “You’re thinking that trying to kill you and keeping you prisoner is violating you, and you’re right. But there’s something different about this. I didn’t want to do it without your permission.”

  She glared at him. The absolute nonsense of what he was saying enraged her. “Let me go. I’m not giving you permission to do anything.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Then I guess you’ll stay in the bloody clothes and all the bites and scratches will get infected.” He turned, crossed the room, and started walking up the stairs. After three steps, he halted and looked back at her. “Are you sure, Dana? You can’t be comfortable.”

  She did start sobbing then. She felt so hopeless, so out of control, so betrayed.

  He hurried over to her. “Oh, shh.... shh now. It’s okay.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I promise to be professional. I’ll just clean you. I wouldn’t...”

  She sobbed harder. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

  “Dana,” he said. “Look at me.”

  She tried, but he was blurry through her tears.

  “I want to kill you, not rape you,” he said, as if this thought was somehow reassuring. “Let me clean you up.”

  She shook her head, the sobs deepening.

  * * *

  It was dawn by the time they left the supermarket. Dana yawned behind the wheel of the car. The windows were down, and cold air rushed against her face. She shivered. They couldn’t roll up the windows, however, because they had to keep the scent. They’d been following it for nearly twenty minutes now.

  “Almost twenty bodies,” Avery groaned from the seat next to her. “Can’t you just see the headlines?”

  Dana was struggling to keep her eyes open. She needed to get back in the swing of things. Tracking meant staying up all night. She wasn’t used to it anymore. “And the commentary? They’ll all be talking about how werewolves kill people, and they don’t get punished. It’s going to be a mess.” Which was why she was going to have to call Hollis. But later. After she got home. After she took a nap.

  “A complete mess.” Avery stuck his head out the window. “Jesus, Rogue, did you run to the other side of the world or what?”

  “This is a long scent trail,” Dana agreed.

  “She goes to the grocery store, wolfs out, mangles forty people, kills eighteen, and then runs for fifteen miles? We can’t catch a break tonight.”

  “This morning,” said Dana. “That’s the sun in the sky, Brooks.”

  He slumped in his seat. “Right. Morning.” Then he sat up straight. “Wait. You smell that?”

  “Trail’s turning,” said Dana. She turned the car to follow the scent. They entered a planned community—crowded identical houses, gridded streets with names like Warbling Spring Avenue. She had to slow the car to be sure to get all of the turns right.

  The wolf had run up the streets, turning this way and that. After about ten turns, the trail ended at a modest looking rancher. There was a basketball net in the driveway, a two-car garage, and a pool in the back yard.

  Dana pulled into the driveway.

  “Want to bet it’s a teenager?” asked Avery. “Probably sleeping around without protection, caught the virus that way.”

  “Do teenagers go to the supermarket?” said Dana. She got out of the car.

  Avery did too. “Everyone goes to the supermarket.”

  They got out their SF badges and walked to the front door. There was a nice little landscaped stone walkway. The door itself had a fancy glass inlay.

  Dana knocked.

  She and Avery waited.

  “They’re still asleep,” she said. “It’s early.”

  “Knock again,” said Avery. “Or ring the doorbell. Is there a doorbell?”

  There wasn’t a doorbell. She knocked on the door again.

  There was the sound of movement inside, and then the door opened. A woman wearing a robe peered out. “Yes?

  “Hi there, ma’am,” said Dana, sniffing her. Geez. The woman who’d answered the door was the wolf. She glanced at Avery, saw the surprise in his eyes. He’d picked up the scent too. “I’m Dana Gray. This is my partner Avery Brooks. We’re with the Sullivan Foundation.” She held up her badge. Avery did too.

  The woman laughed, a low throaty sound. “Took you long enough to get here.”

  “Are you aware of what happened last night at the Kroger twenty minutes away?” said Avery.

  “Of course I’m aware,” said the woman. “I was there, wasn’t I?” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “Then you know that you’re a werewolf,” said Dana.

  “Honey, I’ve been a werewolf since I was seventeen years old,” said the woman.

  Dana shook her head. This was unbelievable. “So, what you’re saying is that you purposefully wolfed out last night and killed all those people?”

  The woman laughed. “I don’t have anything else to say about it. If you want to take me away, you’re going to have to wait. I got to get dressed and kiss the kids goodbye.” She shut the door in their faces.

  * * *

  Dana was on her third cup of coffee, and the caffeine wasn’t working anymore. She’d been up all night, had driven all the way back from New York to headquarters with the rogue werewolf in tow, and then come directly to Ursula to discuss what had happened.

  “There’s nothing to say they’re connected,” said Ursula. She was sitting at her desk. Avery and Dana sat in front of it.

  “I’m only saying it’s weird,” said Dana. “Two rogues who both know how to keep their wolves in check, and within one weekend, they both decide to go on a killing spree.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” said Avery. “If it’s a coincidence, it’s a w
eird one.”

  “It’s not unheard of for people to lose control of their wolf,” said Ursula. “I say we shuffle her into maximum security and try not to dig too much deeper. We don’t need this right now. With the funding legislation coming up, it’s really bad timing.”

  “What drives me craziest about it is that neither of them have anything to say about it,” said Dana.

  “You go poking around in their lives, asking more questions, it will only draw more attention to the cases,” said Ursula. “And reporters are going to jump on the implications that we’re not doing our job properly. If the SF can’t keep wolves from going rogue, why give us any money?”

  Kayla Johnson appeared in the doorway the tracker office. “Excuse me.”

  Kayla worked as a counselor. She counseled rogues and helped them learn to control their wolves.

  “Kayla?” said Ursula. “What can we do for you?”

  Kayla strode into the office. “Well, I’m not sure if I should have come to you at all. You know that I work with Cole Randall, trying to convince him to reign in his wolf?”

  Dana hadn’t known that. “That’s not going to work. He can control himself. He chooses not to.”

  “I know,” said Kayla. “But here at the SF, we don’t give up on people. So I meet with him once a week. And I just got done with my session. He wanted me to give you a message.”

  Avery got to his feet. “No. Whatever that bastard has to say, it’s not important.”

  Kayla nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry. I thought I should check, though.” She turned to go. “Sorry to disturb you guys.”

  “Wait,” said Dana. “What’s the message about?”

  “He watches the news a lot. Spends a lot of time on the internet,” said Kayla.

  “He gets a TV?” said Avery. He still hadn’t sat back down. His face was turning red.

  “He’s not a prisoner,” said Kayla. “He’s a sick man. He’s mentally ill.”

  “Bullshit,” said Avery.

  “The message?” said Dana.

  “It’s about the rogues you two have picked up in the past few days,” said Kayla.

  Now Ursula looked interested. “Really?”

  “He thinks he knows why they’ve started killing again after all this time,” said Kayla. “He says he has unique insight, because he’s made the same decision as they have. He thinks he can help.”

  Ursula sighed. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to hear what he has to say. I know you two are tired, though. I’ll go down and see him.”

  Kayla shook her head. “No. He won’t talk to anyone except Dana.”

  Dana felt a little shiver go through her. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement.

  “Out of the question,” said Avery. “She shouldn’t have to see him ever again.”

  “Didn’t your psychiatrist forbid you to have contact with him?” said Ursula.

  Dana swallowed. “It was more like a suggestion, not an edict.” She wanted to see Cole. She cursed herself, but she was giddy at the prospect. “I could go down to talk to him.”

  “I’m not sure, Gray,” said Ursula. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Dana. “He’s locked up.”

  Ursula spread her hands. “If you’re positive.”

  Dana nodded.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Avery.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” said Dana.

  “No way am I letting you face him alone,” said Avery.

  “At least get some rest first,” said Ursula. “Neither of you have slept in quite some time.”

  “I’m not that tired,” said Dana. She wasn’t. The prospect of seeing Cole had perked her right up. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “I insist,” said Ursula. “You two take a nap, and then you can see Randall in the evening.”

  * * *

  Dana tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. She was exhausted, but every time she lay down and closed her eyes, she thought of Cole. She thought of going without Avery, but she wasn’t sure how she’d explain that to him. Sorry, I was so jazzed over the idea of seeing the man who kept me chained up in his basement and nearly killed me that I couldn’t wait for you. She didn’t think that would go over too well. She’d wait. She’d go with Avery. It would be better anyway. The thought of seeing Cole alone was terrifying. Exhilarating, but terrifying.

  Since she couldn’t sleep, she decided she might as well call Hollis. She’d promised Ursula she would, after all.

  She went into her living room, got out her phone, and stared at it, her heart pounding. She really hadn’t talked to Hollis in quite a while. What would he say? Would he think she was calling because she wanted to rekindle their romance? Not that her relationship with Hollis had been very romantic exactly.

  She and Hollis had met when he was covering a story about a rogue. He’d pestered her until she went out with him. He was nice enough. Intelligent. Not prejudiced against wolves. Fairly handsome.

  But he wasn’t infected, like she was. The lupine virus could be transferred sexually sometimes. That meant that having sex with someone who wasn’t infected posed issues.

  Condoms were supposed to be pretty good at protecting the uninfected, but nothing was one hundred percent.

  For his part, Hollis had seemed much less worried about it than she was. But it had worried Dana. The result was that they’d dated for over six months but only actually had intercourse a handful of times. And sex itself had become a topic of argument and anger, not anything fun or... sexy.

  The relationship had been too much work. Overall, Dana was relieved to be free of it. But it wasn’t because she didn’t like Hollis. He was a good guy.

  Trying to remind herself of that, Dana clutched her phone and dialed him. She put the phone to her ear, listening to it ring. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up.

  But he did. “Dana?” He was surprised and excited.

  “Hi, Hollis.”

  “How are you? I saw that you were back at work. You were on the news about that bar up in Springwater.”

  “I’m... I’m okay. Actually, I wasn’t calling just to catch up.”

  “Oh?”

  “I wanted to, um, offer you a story.”

  Hollis was quiet for a minute. She could picture him, the face he made when he was disappointed. “So, this is all business, huh?”

  “I...” This was exactly why she didn’t want to make this phone call. “Things happened to me, Hollis. I’m not the same. I can’t...”

  He waited for her to finish, but she didn’t know how to describe it. “You can’t what?”

  “Be with anyone,” she said. “Anyone at all.” Except possibly the madman that had tried to kill her. He was the one she thought about when it was dark. Imagining his touch made her tingle, made her aroused. That was the way things were. And she wasn’t going to tell Hollis that.

  “Jesus, Dana,” said Hollis. “What did that asshole do to you?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “What’s the story?” His tone had changed. He was brusque now, businesslike.

  “Me, I guess,” said Dana. “King said she wanted a hero piece. She wants to counter the bad press the SF is getting.”

  “Great,” said Hollis, “so you’re asking me for a PR story. You know I can’t promise anything like that, don’t you? That’s not the kind of writer I am. I write about things the way I see them, not the way someone else wants me to.”

  “You don’t see me as a hero?” She smiled wryly.

  “I don’t know, Dana. I don’t know what happened to you.”

  “Well, agree to do the story, and I’ll tell you,” she said. As best she could, anyway. There were some things that she might have to keep to herself.

  “Can I interview Randall?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll ask King.”

  “Get me Randall, and you’ve got a deal,” he said.

  “I’ll ask.”


  “What I really want is for you to have dinner with me.”

  “Hollis, I can’t.”

  “Can’t I interview you over dinner?”

  She rested her head against the back of the couch. “Don’t expect anything from me.”

  “That sounds like a yes.”

  She sighed. That was Hollis for you. Persistent.

  * * *

  Dana felt like there was a coiled spring inside her gut, ready to let go at any second. Her breath was shallow, her pulse pounding. She stood at the elevator, waiting for Avery. He would be meeting her here at any minute, and they would go down to see Cole together.

  Cole.

  Demon. Murderer. Madman. Torturer.

  She hadn’t seen him since the night she’d escaped. When she’d gotten him locked up. She’d been confused that night. Things had happened between them. Disgusting things. Disturbing things. Savage, perverse things.

  The elevator was a flat metal color. There were scratches on its surface. She took it every day to get from her apartment up to the top floor, where the tracker office was. Sometimes it lurched and squeaked when it moved. She was anxious to take it down now. To Cole.

  Where the heck was Avery? Dana checked her watch. He should have been there already. Two minutes ago.

  Avery was two minutes late.

  That wasn’t so much, not really. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths.

  It was warm inside the hallway. The air conditioning wasn’t on. It was only April, and it probably wasn’t necessary yet, but it was one of those freakishly warm spring days, and Dana could feel a little bit of sweat slick under her arms.

  She’d put on deodorant, hadn’t she?

  Want to smell nice for Cole? taunted a voice in her head.

  She grimaced. So what if she did?

  But it was pathetic that she was standing here waiting, the feelings bubbling up in her more like a girl waiting for her prom date than a woman going to grimly confront her captor and would-be murderer.

  He couldn’t kill me. Something stopped him.

  What did it matter? He’d killed other people, hadn’t he? Lots of other people. But Dana was special to him. They shared something that no one else shared. A bond that no one could understand. While she’d been locked in that basement, chained up, Dana had changed. Cole was the only one who’d been there. The only one who understood.