Synopsis
The road trip from Hell is paved with good intentions.
Hope Glassy and Godfrey Meyers are on a mercy mission. Their friend Isabelle has been attacked by a rogue werewolf and is in the throes of lycanthropic fever. With their respective partners out of town all Hope and Godfrey can do is get Isabelle to the safety of Little Dip and the Garoul clan before her sire comes to claim her.
In a desperate race against time, with the hounds of hell snapping at their heels, can they save her—and does Isabelle want to be saved?
Third in the Garoul Series.
Indigo Moon
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Indigo Moon
© 2011 By Gill McKnight. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-501-7
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: February 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Cindy Cresap and Stacia Seaman
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Falling Star
Green Eyed Monster
Erosistible
Goldenseal
Ambereye
Indigo Moon
Dedication
For B.
Love Mum.
Chapter One
The first one sprinted from her right-hand side and bolted before the car. Isabelle braked and watched it cross the road. It was a magnificent beast. She counted nine, maybe ten points on its antlers.
“Oh. So beautiful,” she breathed, enchanted. Then she noticed its fear and alarm. Another whitetail, this one a doe, shot out of the tree line, eyes rolling with fright. They ran alongside the high banks of plowed snow at the roadside, confused by the man-made barrier. The larger animal lunged at the steep bank and began an ungainly scrabble over it. The doe followed, pushing and straining with powerful hind legs until it topped the bank and disappeared into the forest on the far side. Isabelle watched the snow fill their tracks long after they had gone. Poor things were spooked by the car.
“Damn” She scolded herself for not remembering to grab her camera. It was rare for a city dweller to get this close to such beautiful creatures. It would be some time before a photo opportunity like that came her way again. She tsked in self-reproach and put the Toyota into gear. The car rolled forward just as a third deer darted out of the trees. Isabelle slammed on the brakes, thrilled at her unbelievable luck. Three in a row! This time she reached for her camera, then hesitated. The buck was limping badly. It was smaller than the other two and even more frightened. It stumbled before her car looking lost and confused. It hobbled over to the snow bank, following its companions. Isabelle saw the dark patch on its flank drip scarlet onto the snow. It was bleeding. A gash ran across its rump deep into the hind leg. It limped to the escape route opened up by the others, and with an exhausted leap tried to climb. The incline was too steep and it slipped and slithered back onto the roadside. It had no strength left. It tried a second time and failed. Tired and defeated, it stood trembling, trapped by the wall of snow, unwilling to return the way it had come.
Isabelle grasped for the handle but didn’t open the car door. What could she do? She was in the middle of nowhere with a wounded wild animal. Should she even approach it? What if it—
She jumped in her seat at the loud crash. Her car rocked violently from side to side and the roof crunched and buckled over her head. She cried out in fright, but the cry died in her throat as something springboarded from the roof of her car onto the injured deer, dragging it to the ground. It was a massive beast, red-furred and ferocious. It ripped into the deer’s gaping wound with huge, curled claws. The whitetail exploded, shredded in seconds. Flayed limbs, strips of hide, a severed head, flew off in every direction. The snow became a churning cauldron of crimson. The beast reared upright onto its hind legs; squat and awkward, it flung back its heavy head and howled an unearthly, wavering cry. A howl filled with bloodcurdling triumph and defiance. Then it fell back on the deer’s bloody carcass and gorged on the steaming entrails.
Isabelle was horrified. She gripped the door handle white-knuckled, her other hand squeezing the steering wheel, and sat frozen in disbelief. In less than a millisecond a…a…a rabid bear had just…had just wrecked her car and… Oh God, that poor deer.
A growl rumbled long, low, and very threatening beside her ear. Slowly, she turned her head to meet cold, yellow eyes, filled with sly intelligence. A second creature crouched by her car watching her. It pinned her with a look of calculated malice as it weighed up her strengths and many, many weaknesses. Isabelle’s heart thumped in her throat until she almost choked. Ice water pumped through her veins and numbed her brain, her thoughts froze, her limbs turned into heavy, useless stumps. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think; she couldn’t even blink. The twisted leathery face was inches from hers with only a sheet of glass between them. Thin black lips curled back in a leer, revealing rows of long, pointed teeth. For an elastic moment they regarded each other, unmoving, unblinking, frozen—then the moment snapped.
Fangs flashed against the window, saliva lathered the glass. Isabelle jerked out of her stupor and screamed. She slammed her foot on the accelerator. This was no bear. This was a monster. A monster from budget horror movies and mass-market paperbacks; a monster from her childhood nightmares. The Toyota lurched, tires spinning. The monster flung out a huge clawed hand and shattered the side window, showering her in shards of glass. Her cheek stung with a dozen little abrasions. The side-view mirror was ripped from the door. Isabelle screamed again, scrabbled to release her handbrake, and kept her foot pressed full on the gas. The tires bit and the car shot forward, its back end fishtailing wildly. She had no control over the steering and no care other than fleeing.
The Toyota flew forward in a clean line and rammed straight into the red-furred beast still crouched over its meal. With a sickening thud the beast bowled off the windshield and onto the roadside, a blur of wet, matted fur and blood. The impact slowed her and she nearly stalled. From the corner of her eye she saw the stricken beast writhing in agony. It bellowed with pain and the forest around her reverberated with a multitude of answering howls. Isabelle’s ears burned with the eerie chorus. These two were not alone; there were more creatures out there. She gunned the Toyota harder as it zigzagged across the road.
A third creature hurtled from the tree line and flung itself onto the hood of her car. It crashed onto the windshield. The glass cracked but held. Her speed bounced the creature back off before it could gain any leverage. It fell back onto the road, only just missing her wheels. Through the crazed glass she saw another beast crouched farther along ready to spring at her car. Another crept out of the trees to join it. They were everywhere! Preparing to pounce. Everywhere!
Isabelle’s mind blanked out with terror. She swung on the steering wheel, trying to swerve past the first ambush. A loud bang and her car rocked sideways. One of them was on the roof! Through her broken
windshield she could see two more racing toward her. She was surrounded. Like lions hunting a wildebeest, they had surrounded her and were dragging her down by sheer numbers.
She spun the wheel hard right. The next one to reach her would break through the weakened windshield. She swerved to avoid the creatures coming straight for her, and swung the car from side to side hoping to dislodge the one on the roof. It clung on, roaring in anger. They kept coming until they were right on top of her. The first one leapt. She closed her eyes and hit the gas. There was a splintering crash. The windshield popped, showering her with cubes of glass. Isabelle opened her eyes. This one had hung on. It was less than two feet from her, huge and black, and its breath stank. It bared its teeth in a victorious leer. She was caught. The chase was over.
Isabelle screamed and jerked the wheel to the left. The Toyota cannoned onto the snowbank and rode up the incline at full speed. It flipped over the top and with a perfect pirouette landed upside down in a trench on the other side.
*
She was curled in a tight ball, squashed in a corner of her mangled car. The air bag had deployed, but she had somehow slipped out from the seat belt that dangled above her. Had she lost consciousness? How much time passed? Snow and vegetation pushed through the shattered windshield, and she was covered in freezing muck. The air was heavy with the sickly odor of gasoline. She began to shake with pain and shock.
Isabelle twitched her fingers and toes; everything moved as it should. Her shoes were lost and her feet bare. Bizarrely, that upset her more than the possibility of broken bones. She stretched and straightened her limbs as far as the cramped space would allow. All movement was torturous and exhausted her. She was wet through and probably in the first stages of hypothermia. Blood was everywhere; its copper stickiness coated her face and clung to her clothes and hands. She didn’t know where it was coming from. The car lay upside down and the world around her was broken and disoriented. It was quiet, very quiet, as if the crash had stunned the forest into silence.
Then they came.
Muted growls and snarls surrounded the car. The creatures had arrived at the crash site and prowled around the wreck looking for a way through the twisted metal. Isabelle pressed deeper into her corner and shook uncontrollably. Her nightmare was not over. A second later the car shuddered as they tried to shake it loose and flip it over. The Toyota groaned in protest but refused to move; it was firmly wedged roof down in the trench. The car creaked and cracked as broken pieces of plastic and metal rained down on her. After several minutes, the shaking stopped. Isabelle waited with bated breath. Would they give up and go? Did they know if she was alive, or even in the car? She squeezed as far back as she could, careful not to make a noise to give herself away.
There was a moment of silence, then a frustrated roar and the bodywork was pounded on, as if the car were being beaten into tiny pieces. Soon they would be able to reach in and simply pluck her out like a lump of crabmeat.
The vehicle jerked as the trunk lid ripped off with a loud snap. A fresh blast of cold air whistled through. Frantic scratching came from behind the rear seat. They were getting in through the trunk. She cowered in terror. The seat rattled and heaved, then began to disintegrate before her eyes. A whimper escaped her—and gave away her position. A clawed hand burst through the broken windshield and sank, deep as a butcher’s hook, into her left shoulder. Isabelle screamed and writhed in agony. The claws bit into sinew and muscle, popping her shoulder socket. Everything faded. She could hear her voice cry out, high and thin, hear the air bag tear, or was that her flesh? From nearby came a triumphant roar, and in the distance, another cry, loud and fierce. It rang out clear and challenging, drawing ever closer. Then oily waves of black pain engulfed her, the air in her lungs thinned, and her chest heaved as she tried to suck more in. There were more howls that hung mournful and hollow in the frigid air. She was dragged inch by inch through the shattered windshield. Her skin was hot with blood; her heart beat sluggishly in her chest. She was sobbing; she was fading, the world around her became darker and darker. Then the chill receded, the glass and metal and brushwood no longer hurt, only the salty dampness of the pillow scratched her cheek. Isabelle opened her mouth, filled her lungs with rich, sweet air, and screamed and screamed and—
“Hey. Hey.” Strong hands stilled hers as she clawed at air. “It’s okay.” The same hands caressed her face and pushed damp hair off her forehead. “Isabelle? Isabelle? It’s okay. Can you hear me?” a voice whispered near her ear, smooth and deep and reassuring. “It’s just a bad dream.”
Tears blurred her vision. There was a soft glow from a nearby lamp. That voice? How did she know that voice? She blinked several times to clear her tears. They rolled round and plump down her temples and onto the cool cotton of her pillowcase. She lay on a soft, fluffy bed. Someone hovered over her, long black hair brushed against her cheek; dark eyes stared intently at her, filled with calm concern.
“Hush, Isabelle. It was just a dream.”
“They hurt me,” she whispered. She tried to move and winced as pain shot through her shoulder. Cool hands soothed her, held her, made her lie still.
“Shush. Keep still now. You’ll pull your stitches. It was only a dream.”
“A dream?” She blinked again and tried to punch through the haze of medication. Slowly, she returned to the real world, bringing all the fear from her dream with her.
“A dream? They hurt me.” She gazed stupidly around the bedroom. She did not recognize it. A damp cloth was pressed against her brow. She looked up into the shadowed face. The lamplight played tricks with golden planes and dark angles. One moment she gazed on the face of an angel, the next a demon. She blinked hard and tried to focus. It was a handsome face…what she could make of it. A woman’s face. She smacked her dry lips and swallowed. Her throat felt raw, as if she’d been screaming forever. She fixed on the face above; eyes as black as pitch stared back and noted her discomfort.
“Lie still. I’ll get you some water.” She moved to go, but Isabelle reached out and grabbed at her, her chilled fingers leaching heat from a warm forearm. The woman sat back down and waited. Isabelle licked her cracked lips and barked out a dry cough before finally asking, “Who are you?”
Chapter Two
Hope heard Jolie’s Jeep pull into the driveway. She made for the front door just in time to see Tadpole leap from the living room couch to join her for the welcome. The front windowpane was smeared with his damp nose. He’d had it pressed against the glass for ages, keeping lookout for Jolie’s return. He flew past Hope and scratched at the door before she could scold him. He wasn’t allowed on the furniture and he knew it, but lately he’d developed some pretty poor habits. Hope was too excited to lecture him this time. It was more important to tell Jolie the news.
She flung open the door and Tadpole raced out to greet Jolie. His manic barking drowned out every word Hope said.
“Quiet, the pair of you. It’s like driving into a parakeet farm.” Jolie reached for the grocery bags as Tadpole scrabbled at her legs for attention. “Can it, mutt. I can’t hear Hope speak.”
She caved in and ruffled his ears. It was all the reassurance he needed. He ignored her, his interest now centered on sniffing her tires and decorating them in his own special fashion.
“What’s all the hollering about?” Jolie turned her attention on Hope.
Hope gave an exasperated tut. “Jori called from Little Dip. Elicia gave birth at three fifteen this afternoon.” She was bursting with happiness at the news. “She had twins, a boy and a girl.”
“Wow.” Jolie was suitably impressed. “Andre owes me a fifty. He said it would be two girls.” She snorted in smug amusement. “Thinks he can read a pregnant woman’s bump. Idiot.”
“You and your brother bet on the sex of Elicia’s babies?” Hope tutted again and grabbed one of the grocery bags spilling from Jolie’s arms. They walked up the path to the house. “Jori wants you to call him back as soon as you can.”
&
nbsp; “Oh.” Jolie sounded perplexed. “I would have expected him to be sprinting through the woods, howling at trees and doing backflips, not waiting by the phone.”
“Are you worried?”
Jolie shrugged. “Nah. Let’s put this ice cream away before it puddles in my hands.”
Hope began to put away the groceries while Jolie called Jori’s cell. It was busy. Disgruntled, Jolie moved about the kitchen trying to help but generally getting in Hope’s way. They began to prepare dinner and Jolie tried to reach Little Dip again. It was still busy. Hope watched her from the kitchen door.
“Are you worried? You look worried.”
“Nope.” Jolie redialed as if she could trick the phone into ringing at the other end. Busy. Hope watched her try her trick a second time with no luck.
“Why ask someone to call you and then be on the phone all the time so they can’t get through?” Jolie muttered in disgust.
She tried again less than five minutes later.
“No luck?” Hope asked as Jolie’s frustration built.
“Nah. He’s probably bragging to half the world.” Jolie flopped on the couch and reached for the TV remote.
“Excuse me, but didn’t somebody say they were going to keep an eye on the rice?” Hope snatched the remote away.
“Rice cooks itself,” Jolie said.
“Pudding rice does. Last time you ruined dinner with your laziness. Now get into that kitchen, Garoul, and do as you’re told.” At that moment the phone rang and Jolie sprang for it, saved from further scolding.
“Hello?” she said expectantly, only for her shoulders to slump. “Oh. It’s you. I thought it was Jori. You owe me fifty…No! I said a boy and a girl. You said two girls…Don’t you backtrack now, you cheating rat—”
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