Moon Grieved
Mirror Lake Wolves - Book Five
Jennifer Snyder
Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Thank You
Sneak Peek
Prologue
One
About the Author
MOON GRIEVED
MIRROR LAKE WOLVES – BOOK FIVE
© 2018 by Jennifer Snyder
Editing by H. Danielle Crabtree
© 2018 Cover Art by Cora Graphics
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All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Prologue
Another scream echoed through the building. It was less shrill, less sharp than before. Whoever had screamed was growing weaker by the second.
I blew out my candles without making a wish and raced to the door behind everyone else. My feet faltered when I saw who had screamed. A girl. Dressed in a white nightgown. She stumbled toward us. Her long black hair fell to her waist in a disheveled mess. Mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, and her ashen skin appeared slick with sweat. Her plump lips formed the shape of an O as though she were struggling to scream but unable to make a sound.
My heart hammered hard and fast inside my chest, not because of her presence or the eeriness emanating from her looks, but because of the blood soaking the neckline of her nightgown.
I didn’t have to step closer to her to know I’d find two puncture marks on her throat. I also didn’t have to guess any longer if the Midnight Reaper would make his way to Mirror Lake.
Standing there I already knew the answer to both questions, and it was enough to send my mind racing as fast as my heart. The Midnight Reaper was here, and this was one of his victims.
Happy freaking birthday to me.
1
My alarm sounded, startling me awake. I reached out from underneath my blankets to pound the top of it and stop the incessant beeping.
It was early. Too early.
“It can’t be morning yet,” Eli grumbled from beside me. “What time did you set that thing for?”
“Six.” I yawned.
“Six? Why are you getting up so damn early?”
I sat up in bed and smoothed my fingers through my tangled hair. “I switched shifts with Pamela. Remember? One of her kids had something at school she needed to be there for this morning.” Another yawn pushed its way from me. God, why had I agreed to work her shift at Rosemary’s? Getting up this early was torture. How did she do this every day? “I’ll be back on the dinner shift after this. It’s only one morning. ” My last words were said more for my benefit than Eli’s. No part of me enjoyed getting up before the sun.
Eli’s arm snaked out to wrap around my waist. “You mean we won’t be able to cuddle before you go in today?”
“Nope.” I attempted to peel out of his grasp, but he’d latched on tight.
I had thirty minutes to get to work; I didn’t have the time to cuddle with Eli the way he wanted.
“Aw, man. Do we at least get to eat breakfast together?” Eli asked as he struggled to maintain his grip on me.
“Not this morning.” When I pried his final finger off my hip, he reached out for me again. I laughed. Mornings with him would never grow old. “I have to go. Seriously. You’re going to make me late. I need to shower, or else I’m never going to wake up.”
“Want some company?”
Temptation tingled through me, but I knew the wise answer to his question, even if my body wanted to say another. “Not a good idea,” I said as I slipped out of bed.
“Wrong. It’s a great idea.”
I glanced at him. Opting to humor him a little, I asked, “Why is that?”
“It saves water, which means we’re saving the planet one shower together at a time,” he said. A sexy smirk twisted across his face.
“Still not a good idea.”
“Give me one good reason.” His smirk grew.
“Because you have ways of distracting me, ways that make time cease to exist.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” His tone implied he was pleased with himself.
“When I have to get to work, it is. Leon already doesn’t care for me. I don’t need to give him another reason.”
I had no idea why the cook hated me so much, but he’d made it clear I was by no means his favorite person.
“How could anyone not like you?” he asked as his eyes skimmed my barely clothed body. “You’re smart, sexy, and sassy.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was trying to pull. It wasn’t going to work.
“Why don’t you ask him?” I crossed to our dresser and gathered my uniform.
Leon was human. I could sense it. I could also sense he knew nothing of the supernatural world. He was a grouchy hick. One who seemed to loathe any generation younger than his.
I didn’t let it bother me much because I needed this job.
Hell, I wanted this job. I’d never been allowed to work a real job before. It was only because I’d imprinted with Eli that I was allowed to. Gran wouldn’t have approved of me working a part-time job while attending college.
Now that Eli and I were imprinted and living together, Gran didn’t have a say. Thank goodness.
“He’ll come around,” Eli said as he propped himself up on his elbows in bed. “You’re likable...when you smile.” He winked.
“What? I smile all the time.”
“Uh, huh. Like you are right now?”
“Whatever.” I chuckled as I headed toward the hall. “I smile all the time at work. It’s how I make such good tips.”
“No,” Eli shouted after me. “You’re hot. That’s how you make such good tips.”
I closed the bathroom door and peeled off my tank top and panties. Rosemary’s Diner wasn’t a place I’d ever thought I would work. It was too bright and busy. People weren’t my thing—nature and quiet places were—but out of the five places I’d applied they’d been the only one to call back.
It was a job—even if the cook hated me.
I ran through everything I knew about Leon as I stood beneath the hot water. He was older, probably close to the same age as Gran. His wife’s name had been Florence. She’d passed away a few years ago. I didn’t know him well enough to know if he’d
always been a grump, or if her death had pushed him over the edge.
When I climbed out of the shower, I toweled off and dressed quickly. I swiped on some mascara and ran my fingers through my hair. My time was limited, so it would have to air dry. I left my dirty clothes on the floor, making a mental note to pick them up later, and I headed to the kitchen for something to eat.
Eli was on the couch, a bowl of cereal in his hand and Moonshine tucked into his side, when I stepped into the living room. The TV was on and the voice of a news anchor blasted through the trailer. If I hadn’t been awake after my shower, the sound of the reporter’s shrill voice would’ve done the job. She had one of those nails-on-a-chalkboard type of voices that had me gritting my teeth.
“Since when do you watch the news?” I asked Eli as I poured myself a bowl of cereal.
“Since my dad started hounding me about not paying enough attention to things happening.”
“Oh.” That made sense.
Sometimes, I forgot Eli was the son of our alpha. Moments like this, when he mentioned his dad asking him to do something that correlated with becoming alpha, made me remember.
“So, anything happening?” I asked as I poured milk in my bowl.
“Always.” I understood the bitter tone to his words. I’d never enjoyed watching the news. They never reported the good things that happened, only the bad. It was too much negativity for me to handle, especially first thing in the morning.
Against my better judgment, I tuned into what the reporter was saying. Her words shook as though she was upset when she spoke.
“Police were called at around 3 a.m. to Rightmore Street, just south of West Meadow, where another incident was reported two nights ago,” she said. “The bodies of Estelle Bright and Claire Holbrooks were discovered there. Investigators believe the two young women are the latest victims of the Midnight Reaper, who has been wreaking havoc across the nation since the beginning of the month.”
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered.
“I know. This guy is totally out of hand. He seems to be killing more frequently,” Eli said around a mouthful of cereal.
“What happens when he decides to move on from the city? Mirror Lake will probably be the first place he goes, considering its proximity.” My gut twisted. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed the killer would head here next.
“Even if he did, I doubt he’d be here long. Mirror Lake doesn’t have as much potential as the city does for new victims. It would be stupid of him to come here. I mean, he would most likely be caught in a day or two. We’re a small community. You can’t get away with what he’s doing here.”
Eli had a point, but my nerves still refused to settle. I had a bad feeling, and Gran always told me to trust my gut.
“Have they released how he’s killing his victims?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer to my question.
“I don’t think that’s something they release to the public. Knowing wouldn’t do any good. It would only cause panic.”
Something shifted across Eli’s face that made me think he knew more than he was letting on.
“I don’t see why that would cause a panic,” I said as I stared at him.
I understood he was the alpha’s son, but I was his wife, his mate for lack of a better word. He should tell me everything. Including pack-related issues he learned from his father. I hated when he kept me in the dark.
Hadn’t I proven over the last few months I was as dedicated to this pack as he was?
Eli’s green eyes lifted to meet mine. He’d caught on that I knew he was keeping something from me in regards to this case. “It’s a serial killer, Mina. You don’t give away their MO. It’s pretty much the only leverage the police have in cases like this.” His gaze drifted back to the TV.
My eyes remained on him as I took another bite of my cereal. He was definitely hiding something. I could sense it.
“Just like other victims of the Midnight Reaper, the young women’s bodies were found mutilated,” the reporter said.
I nearly choked. Mutilated? As in something had attacked them, ripping them to shreds? Something animalistic?
My mind shifted through everything I knew that went bump in the night in the supernatural world, and a shiver slipped down my spine.
“I don’t think she meant to say that,” Eli insisted, his gaze glued to the TV.
I didn’t speak; the reporter’s words were on a loop in my mind. She’d used the word mutilated. Was that her word to describe what the victims looked like, or was it one she’d heard a police officer use?
The unease in my gut spread. I had a feeling whoever, or whatever, had been tearing up the nation was supernatural. Not only that, but also that he was headed this way.
2
I tried to force what I’d heard about the latest Midnight Reaper killing out of my head, but it was impossible. The word mutilated haunted me throughout the day, bringing up thoughts of the serial killer and what he might actually be.
Was he a vampire? A pissed off rogue werewolf? Something else entirely?
I wasn’t the only one thinking of the latest killings; it seemed everyone at Rosemary’s Diner had it on their mind as well. The place had been abuzz all morning with the news. People were speculating over their breakfast and morning coffee as to what the Midnight Reaper’s motive might be.
Satanic ritual killings were what the majority were saying. That could be because we were in the Bible belt, and anything out of the ordinary was often viewed as satanic here.
I wished that were the case in this situation. A human performing ritualistic killings would be easier to stop than a crazed supernatural.
My hand shook as I reached for the pot of coffee on the warmer and made my rounds. I’d made it halfway around the diner before I heard something about the killings that caused me to come to a standstill. It came from the town’s biggest gossips, who occupied the table near the window, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t any truth to the woman’s words.
“Yes, she said it was Thelma’s youngest daughter’s best friend. She was in the city and saw the whole thing happen right in front of her. What she was doing in the city alone at that time of night, I have no clue, but she was there. She saw it all,” an elderly woman in a blue paisley print dress whispered to the others at the table. “According to Thelma, the poor dear hasn’t stepped out of her bedroom since she was brought home. She’s scared to death. Said she thought the monster would find her. Thelma said the girl claimed the Midnight Reaper looked into her soul and marked her for death. Claimed he knows her biggest fears now, that he was able to get inside her head.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” another of the three women said. She waved the other woman’s words away.
“It’s true. Jane,” the woman in the blue dress said. She placed a wrinkled finger to her lips as though thinking. “Hawker. Jane Hawker. That was her name!”
“Hawker?” the third woman at the table said as I circled around to refill her mug.
I tried to think of anyone with the name Hawker that I knew while at the same time listening to the rest of their conversation. I needed to know more; this girl had supposedly seen who the Midnight Reaper was. She’d referred to him as a monster. Did that mean he was a supernatural as I suspected?
“You know the Hawkers. They live down on Foxfire Lane,” the woman in the blue dress said as she ignored me refilling their coffees. “Hatcher and Fiona? The ones with all those kids? I swear, they’ve got about seven or eight. The younger ones are homeschooled, but what I’ve heard is once they reach middle school they send them to the public school system. I guess they aren’t qualified to teach higher education. Anyway, Jane is one of the middle children. Apparently, she was in the city with some friends when all of this happened. She took a wrong turn down an alley and saw it all. The police found her huddled next to a dumpster. Said she was in shock. Barely even knew her own name.”
“Poor thing,” one of the older wo
men muttered. “What did she have to say to the police?”
“From what Thelma said, she didn’t have much to say at all. Still in shock, I believe. They’ve tried to call in a specialist to speak with her and see if they could get any information out of her. Apparently, the girl is a little dramatic and has been making up fantastical stories of things she saw that couldn’t possibly be true.”
I wanted to know these stories. Maybe there was some truth to them, and the old biddies were too closed-minded to notice.
“What were the stories?” one of the women asked. Thankfully.
I placed the coffee pot on an empty table behind them and swept crumbs from their table into my hand, eager to hear more.
“She said he got in her head. Made her see things,” the old woman whispered with dramatic flair before she took a bite her French toast and noticed me hovering. I moved to the table beside them and reached for the coffee pot. Her attention drifted back to her friends. “At least that’s what Thelma said.”
“Well, there’s no doubt she thought it was a monster,” another of the three said. “Only a monster could do what was done to those poor young women. It absolutely sickens me.”
“Me too. I don’t know what’s wrong with the world today,” another said. “Back when we were young, people didn’t mutilate others.”
“Oh, I know,” the woman in the blue dress chimed in. “We were brought up in a much simpler time. One where no one would even dream of mutilating someone else let alone rampaging across the city while doing so.”
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