Darkening Moon

by Gaja J. Kos

  My mouth quirked up. Shitload of work aside, it felt good to be back.

  Selma was already going through her warm-up routine when I pushed through the double doors and walked onto the court. The buzz of the generator brushed against my ears, the scent of clay and tennis balls riding the air and greeting me like an old friend.

  I let the atmosphere sink in as I watched the slender, sixteen-year-old werewolf dive into another repetition of sprints, her muscles flexing with grace and power that spoke of just how good an athlete she would become with a little more time and training.

  Selma had been one of the first new players to join our ranks after Schultz’s dishonorable, cuffed departure from the Zentrum, and although I had been the one who spotted her talent, I hadn’t actually seen her on the court since. Sometimes, making sacrifices truly sucked.

  I unzipped the warm Nike sweatshirt and made my way towards the bench.

  “Oh.” Selma’s voice fluttered over, the cascade of her steps suddenly cutting off. “You’re coaching me today?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the slight excitement lining her tone. It was nice to know not everybody thought of me as that washed-up athlete who’d turned to doping.

  “Hi, Selma, good to see you. And yes, I am.”

  She padded over as I swung my classic red bag off my shoulder and set it on the bench. Two new rackets were secured in one compartment, but, feeling more than a little nostalgic, I pulled out my loyal, a-little-chipped-around-the-edges Wilson, the only fresh thing about it the replaced strings and grip.

  Catching myself before I reached a dangerous level of sappy, I met Selma’s gaze.

  “It’s just a temporary solution until Voit gets back.”

  My tone was easy as the words slid through the air, but the sense that something bad had happened to him continued to graze my insides.

  Temporary sounded eerily like a long, long time.

  The three hours with Selma went by in a blink of an eye. I forgot about everything but the game, observing her movements, her shots, and pointing out the areas of improvement she was more than eager to work on.

  It was amazing, teaching someone who didn’t fight my word but took it to heart until it settled there, became a part of the subconscious that guided the body as if it were a honed machine. The young were certainly had the potential to make it big, and by the time we were done, my initial assessment of a couple of years until she reached pro level was cut in half.

  I waited until she toweled the sweat from her freckled face and zipped up her jacket, then said, “I saw that you didn’t have a tournament lined up until January.”

  “Not much going on right now.” She shrugged, tightening the band and letting the curled ends of her coppery blonde ponytail fall over her shoulder. “They canceled the one in Köln I was supposed to play.”

  I rummaged through my memory, but couldn’t recall what it was that led the Association to pull the plug on the tournament. Who knew, maybe the organizers failed to make it to the seminar.

  “True, there isn’t much going on here.” I twisted the cap back on the bottle I’d nearly drained when we called it quits, and shoved it in my bag. “But there’s one in Slovenia. It’s open internationally, and while it’s smaller than what you’re used to, you could get a nice batch of points to improve your overall ranking.”

  Selma looked at me as if I’d offered her a small fortune. “Sign me up.”

  “Great.” I laughed. “I’ll register you now, then send over an email with all the details.”

  Swinging the bag over my shoulder, I left Selma grinning on the court, then briskly made my way across the open space and into the warmth of the compound. The young were’s enthusiasm was obviously infectious, because instead of heading for the lockers to shower and change, I climbed the three flights of stairs, tracking clay across the laminate, and hurried to my office.

  A small part of me cringed as I parked my slightly sweaty butt on the leather seat, but once my fingers glided across the keyboard, pulling up Selma’s info as well as the registration form, any hesitation I might have felt was long gone.

  Once every bracket was filled, I clicked send, then downloaded the pdf file outlining the tournament basics and forwarded it to Selma. I just pressed the command to print a copy for myself when something disturbed the calm air around me.

  Instincts surging, I shot up to my feet and scanned the office. But there was nothing there.

  A chill crept down my back.

  Nothing in front of me, at least.

  I whirled around just in time to see a body form by the window, the faint rays of light illuminating the long, silken strands of black hair draped across muscular shoulders. Shit.

  I’d always wondered what materializing back from particle form looked like. But I definitely did not want to see it on a demon I didn’t know.

  Especially not one who leaked violence thick enough to choke on.

  7

  Every tendon in my body tense and ready to spring into action, I observed as the final pieces of the puzzle fell together. The sensation was peculiar—as if knowing an image was now complete without having the faintest idea what had been wrong with it before. Maybe it was that hint of translucence.

  Or maybe our minds just weren’t used to seeing out of place particles.

  But the demon was fully corporeal now, his violet-tinted eyes pinned on me. I swallowed and flexed my fingers.

  This wouldn’t be a pleasant visit.

  “Where is Voitsekh?”

  The demon’s voice rolled over my body like silk, tightening my nipples and stirring desires that had no right to exist in a situation where danger was the predominant ingredient.

  I forced myself to take a deep breath and remember that demonic energy was in its nature just as sexual as a Vila’s, although without an addictive component. I’d never gotten that vibe off Voit, but then again, I also knew the sex appeal was linked not only to the power of the demon, but to their willingness to flaunt it.

  My dark-haired visitor clearly wasn’t the modest kind.

  “I don’t know,” I said, proud of just how steady my voice sounded.

  The demon, unfortunately, wasn’t impressed.

  His energy pulsed through the room, his stark gaze burning where it locked on mine. I supposed I should have been grateful he hadn’t pounced right then and there, turning me into minced wolf.

  “Are you not his liege in this world?” He cocked his head, speaking slowly so that every word rang clear—as did his disbelief. “Do you not preside over him?”

  “Preside over Voit?” I snorted. “Hardly.”

  My response obviously wasn’t one he was expecting. The demon straightened to his full, glorious height, a gentle furrow adorning his brow.

  It was a damn shame that it made him even more appealing, the gesture adding a dash of humanity to his otherwise flawless, sharp features.

  My knees weakened, and I was seriously grateful the man before me was demon, not werewolf. Given my scent was practically dripping with lust, a keen nose would have been just the kind of cherry on top to further sour the situation.

  I shifted my stance, wincing a little when the sports bra grazed my hardened nipples. Shit. I refused to even consider what this experience would have been like if I hadn’t had sex with Killian the previous night. And Melina the evening before that.

  A laugh almost broke the surface, but I pushed it back down. Now was definitely not the time to think about how I managed to pull off that particular feat.

  “You are Lotte Freundenberger, are you not?”

  Fighting the impulse to cross my arms and shield the very obvious evidence of my arousal, I willed that flavor of defiance into my tone instead. “I’m not going to confirm or deny that until you introduce yourself.”

  His hesitation lasted no more than a heartbeat, but enough to reveal he wasn’t used to submitting to strangers’ commands. At least he didn’t dismiss my words as a bluff.

  I
was turned on and frightened in equal measure, but I’d be damned if I handed information freely to someone I didn’t know. Not that it would keep him from playing me, but as attuned to his presence as I was, I was fairly sure I’d catch a lie if he uttered it.

  “I am Afanasiy,”—a slight dip of his chin—“right hand of my liege Raya.”

  “Well then, Afanasiy, I am Lotte. But I’m not Voit’s liege. He merely works for me.”

  I could see the demon’s ancient brain working behind those cunning eyes. Shit, if he didn’t start talking soon, all this desire rolling off him was going to get to me. Getting naked and sweaty with someone who barged into my office uninvited wasn’t my kind of fun.

  Somehow, I didn’t think it was his either.

  “I presume Voit is a member of your court?” I asked just to break up the silence.

  Afanasiy studied me for a long moment that had heat pooling between my thighs, then angled his head. “My liege is his mother.”

  I blinked. Then blinked again.

  What? Voit was demonic royalty?

  No wonder he had to retreat to the Shadow World so often if his mom held a territory of her own. And I was betting they weren’t exactly pleased with his choice of a career in this world.

  Visibly and slowly, I relaxed my stance, wanting to show Afanasiy that we were on the same side. At least I hoped we were.

  As Isa had so helpfully pointed out, my judgment was far from exceptional.

  Thankfully, the demon didn’t disappoint. The wide, muscular frame of his shoulders loosened, some of the rough tightness fleeing from his face. A temporary truce, but one I could live with.

  “So Voit isn’t in the Shadow World.” I exhaled, then mumbled, “Well, that’s just fucking great.”

  “He—he isn’t with you?” There was censure in his voice.

  I angled my head to the side, not backing down from his stare. “He isn’t. But I gather there’s something you’re not telling me—something that would explain why he isn’t in the Shadow World where he obviously should have been.”

  “Voitsekh is…” He grappled for words, those chiseled features even more gorgeous as the slight strain and confusion washed over them. “He can be rebellious. He does not honor his responsibilities as my liege’s firstborn, preferring to exist in your world to ours.”

  Couldn’t blame him for that. Clearly Raya’s court wasn’t in touch with modern times, and from what I’d seen of Voit, he most definitely wasn’t an old-fashioned kind of guy. Actually, he was as far from it as it got. I glanced at Afanasiy and blew out a breath.

  Yeah, it was hard to imagine him and Voit getting along.

  The concern, however, was real. Thanks to the protective surges I’d had lately, I could relate.

  Without taking my eyes off the demon, I rubbed two fingers against my left temple to dispel the first stirrings of a headache, then inched back until I parked my ass on the edge of my desk and wedged myself between the computer screen and the ungodly stack of folders.

  “Look,” I started, “Voit’s been absent since yesterday. I thought he went off on some Shadow World business and failed to notify me.”

  A faint smile touched Afanasiy’s lips. The sight was breathtaking enough to knock the words right out of my mouth.

  It should be fucking illegal for anyone to be this gorgeous.

  “Ah,” he whispered, “so you are his liege.”

  Momentarily stunned, a low, husky chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. “I guess I am.”

  We let this newly found easiness flow between us for a second longer. But Voit’s name slithered through my mind, the news that his own people were looking for him augmenting that sense of unease that hadn’t stopped nagging at me ever since he’d missed work.

  I squared my shoulders, an idea flickering to life. “I hope my instincts are off, but if they’re not and something has happened to him, you need to know that there has been a series of supe kidnappings. Voit could be one of them.”

  I held up a hand when the energy levels in the office skyrocketed, Afanasiy’s anger a brush of heat against my skin.

  “I have no idea where he could be or why anybody would take him.” I sucked in a sharp breath as my own emotions flared. “But there is someone who might. She doesn’t know about Voit specifically, but she’s working on the kidnappings. If you’re not averse to popping up into existence at ICRA headquarters and intimidating a Senior Agent into giving up information…”

  The chilling smile that touched his lips was all the answer I needed. I jotted down Isa’s name and location within the building, then handed the piece of paper over to the demon.

  Our fingers touched lightly, the pulse of his power reverberating through my skin with such intensity it took all my strength to ease back.

  “Thank you, Lotte Freundenberger,” he said as the faint trace of magic teased my senses, mirth flirting with the corners of his eyes. “Liege.”

  With that, Afanasiy was gone. And I was left with no other option but to take the longest, coldest shower of my life before my loins went up in flames.

  8

  Fate wasn’t always a sadistic bitch. Sometimes, it could throw a were a bone.

  Or an unexpected tournament.

  Cold wind whipped at my cheeks as I watched Selma run laps on the slightly unkept track. Someone had the sense to clear away the snow, just a few remnants of it clinging to the very side of the tarmac. Werewolf injuries were usually whisked away in a matter of minutes, but it would have been just plain bad form to let something happen to the athletes because of lazy negligence.

  Two other players jogged a short distance behind Selma, a third using one of the damp benches just off the track to stretch her legs. Not a Munich native, I noted. It seemed the cancelled Köln competition pissed off more than a few people, which in turn led to this improvised tournament popping up like a present from an eager suitor on a bad day.

  Judging by the sheer attendance, it had obviously worked.

  The tournament didn’t count for points—that was something even the sharks of the pro world hadn’t been able to pull off—but it was nice practice for the athletes, and the reward money wasn’t all that bad for a competition of this kind, either. All in all, I couldn’t think of a better way to warm up Selma for her matches in Ljubljana.

  As she shifted from laps to short-interval sprints, I pulled my cell phone from my windbreaker pocket and dialed Greta.

  “I’m not a miracle worker,” her voice greeted me just as I fumbled with the zipper, bringing it all the way up to my chin to ward off the increasing chilly gusts. “It’s only been three days.”

  I chuckled. “I just wanted to know how you were doing.”

  “On the case, you mean.” She snorted, but there was a hint of a smile in her tone. The sound of a door locking filtered down the line, followed by the telltale squeak of her office chair. She slightly lowered her voice as she said, “Since I can’t access ICRA’s encrypted files without attracting unwanted attention, I’m going about it the old way. You know, alcoholic bribes and hoping someone gets drunk enough to spill important info.”

  “And how’s that working out for you?”

  “Excruciatingly slow. Not to mention that it makes me glad I’m a were. Some of these supes…” She laughed. “Shit, you give them two drinks and they’re slobbering all over you.”

  “You are pretty nice to slobber over.” I followed Selma’s movements as she did another sprint before zigzagging through an imaginary obstacle course. Her reactions were even faster than the last time we trained. “Have they given you anything else besides sleazy comments?”

  “Isa’s playing her cards close,” she grumbled. “But she didn’t lie when she told you of the kidnappings—she’s investigating them, only it looks like the Ice Queen of Fang hit a wall. There was, however, a new body registered at our morgue that might be connected to the case.”

  My throat tightened. “Demon?”

  “Even if it is, it�
��s not Voit. The time of death precedes his disappearance.”

  I leaned against the gray stucco of the building stretching out behind me, relief, then guilt washing over me in equally strong waves.

  Last spring, when two people I cared about departed this world before their time because of Schultz’s plans, I’d wished it had been someone else death had taken. Anyone else, really. I’d thought I was done with that line of thinking, but I couldn’t help feeling anything but completely and utterly glad that it wasn’t Voit’s body locked away in the morgue.

  “Call me the moment you find anything else?”

  “I will.” Her hesitation filled the silence. “Lotte, did you by chance have anything to do with a demon who supposedly broke through all of ICRA’s security measures and manifested in Isa’s office?”

  “Maybe.” A smile teased my lips, followed by a tightness in my gut. “Does Isa suspect?”

  “No. But she does know about Voit now.”

  I expected as much. Although I was surprised a single agent hadn’t showed up at the Zentrum yet. Whatever Afanasiy said—or threatened, more likely—had saved the club from another batch of bad publicity and me from explaining why I hadn’t said anything sooner.

  If I ever saw that demon again—not that I wanted to, even if my treacherous hormones were implying otherwise—I needed to thank him for that.

  Greta and I said our goodbyes just as Selma walked over. Her freckled cheeks were red with cold, which could have come across as adorable if it weren’t for the determination in her eyes, making her appear much older than her sixteen.

  Something about her reminded me of my own past, and I couldn’t hold back a grin when I patted her on the back and growled, “Go kick ass, kid.”

  Werewolves were supposedly drawn to colder weather by nature. I was fairly sure that particular trait had never made it to my genes.

  I let out a grateful groan when the warmth of the club’s interior wrapped around me, defrosting my fingers and making my ears burn red hot. The distinct smell of half-burnt dust wafted over from the old radiators spanning the width of the wall to my right, but in light of the glorious heat, it was only a minor inconvenience.