Moon Fever

by Susan Sizemore, Maggie Shayne, Lori Handeland

  The sound vibrated against him, around him, and he shuddered. His fingers, which had been in my hair, tightened as if he meant to pull me away. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to seize control, to dominate, to make him come.

  Slowly, I began to move, taking him in to the hilt, then withdrawing to the tip, hesitating as if I meant to release him, then plunging back once more. When he was perched on the edge, I rose up and over him, my hips repeating the motions of my mouth—plunge, release, accept, withdraw. Faster and faster, harder and deeper. My arms lifted, a glorious exultation to the night as I arched, clenched, then held my breath.

  The orgasm flowed between us, the convulsions of one increasing the tremors of the other. I cried out; he did, too, and we both tumbled together into the light.

  When the last tingles had made their way to my toes, I found myself draped over him. His palm cupped my hip; my hair shrouded both our faces.

  “Whoa,” he said. “You really know how to take charge.”

  I stilled. “Is that a problem?”

  “Do it again.”

  I laughed, and so did he, but the lighter mood didn’t last long. We weren’t in this tent for a camping trip. We had big problems awaiting us. Problems that hadn’t disappeared because I’d dodged the silver bullet.

  There were still werewolves out there trying to kill me, and I didn’t know why. My mother was still missing.

  Dylan sensed my withdrawal. He shifted, slipping out of my body and my arms. I felt his loss as an ache in my chest. I reached for him, and our fingers entwined as if we’d been holding hands for an eternity.

  “Today,” he promised, “we’ll find her.”

  Half an hour later, we were dressed, packed, and confused.

  “No tracks. No crows,” Dylan muttered. “Where are they when you need them?”

  “Crows rarely fly at night. They roost.”

  “They what?”

  “Gather in communal nests.”

  “How do you know that?”

  I blinked. “I’m not sure.”

  He cut me a quick, suspicious glance. I couldn’t blame him. What Manhattan socialite knew the habits of crows?

  I’d never been a whiz at Trivial Pursuit. I remembered things that applied to my work and myself, no problem, but other bits of info went right out of my head. So when, and why, had I learned any information about crows?

  Dylan stared at the sky. “Which way should we go?”

  I lifted my face to the night and closed my eyes. The breeze filtered over my skin, cool like a river, and on it I caught the scent of—

  “Mother.”

  Chapter 11

  “W here?” Dylan asked.

  I opened my eyes and pointed to the navy blue shadow of a distant mountain.

  Dylan gave me a wary glance. I didn’t blame him. I was acting weird.

  So why did I feel so damn good? What in hell had happened in that tent, besides great sex and a miraculous recovery from a werewolf attack?

  My mother was close. I could feel her, smell her. I practically ran through the trees—this time, I led the way—bursting free of them and into a snow-shrouded field. Ahead lay the mountains, and circling over one tall peak was a flock of crows.

  The sky had lightened almost imperceptibly. But the crows felt the coming of what passed for dawn, and so did I.

  Dylan and I crossed the field. We’d reached the opposite side and started up the incline when a chorus of howls erupted. I spun around, cursing at the sight of the wolves loping after us.

  “Friends or foes?” Dylan murmured.

  I couldn’t see the whites of their eyes, but just as I knew my mother was near, I also knew what they were. “Werewolves,” I said. “Run.”

  However, running wasn’t an option while climbing a steep, craggy mountainside. Luckily, climbing isn’t on a werewolf’s top-ten list of talents. The pack fell farther behind, but they would catch us eventually, and we didn’t have enough bullets left to kill them all.

  “Go,” I said. “I’m slowing you down.”

  He actually laughed in my face. “Yeah, that’ll happen.”

  “Dylan, please. I—”

  “Carly.” His attention focused behind me.

  I turned, terrified I’d discover the pack of werewolves had materialized right behind us. But when I followed his gaze, I discovered that dawn had arrived with just a slight graying of the horizon, and with it, our salvation.

  The wolves dropped to the ground, writhing. Some of them skidded several feet down the mountain. Others slid off the side and into the abyss. The fall wouldn’t kill them, but it would certainly slow them down. So would the shape-shifting. Even in this land without sun, the werewolves could not hold their wolf form at daybreak.

  “Let’s make some time,” Dylan said.

  An hour later, we reached the peak where the crows circled. The wolves had disappeared; the men they’d become had not yet materialized.

  We dragged ourselves over the last summit to find a shadowy oval carved into the side of the mountain.

  “Shall we?” Dylan said, and started forward.

  I grabbed his arm. “Me first.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Why don’t you both come in at the same time?”

  My head snapped up. My eyes began to tear at the sight of the woman standing in the mouth of the cave.

  “Mom?” I whispered. Then I didn’t know what else to say.

  In the end, no words were necessary. She opened her arms, I went into them, and it was as if I’d never left.

  Much too soon, Phoebe murmured, “We’d better get inside,” and I was forced to let her go.

  “I thought you were dead,” I blurted.

  She cupped my cheek with her palm. “None of that matters anymore.”

  Inside was as I’d expected—dark, cold, stone, and ice. Dylan pulled out his flashlight, and Phoebe led the way. The cave continued back much farther than I would have believed possible. We passed several small, dark caverns. In one, I could have sworn I saw a body or two hovering at the edge of the light.

  “What is this place?” I asked, my voice hushed.

  “You’ll see,” Phoebe said.

  Eventually, the narrow passage widened into a cavern. A backpack lay against the wall. Several discarded food wrappers were piled nearby.

  My mother stared at me, as if she couldn’t get enough of the sight. I knew how she felt.

  “You look exactly the same,” I said.

  Tall, slim, with long, silky black hair and a dark gaze that made her seem exotic, I could understand how J.T. had fallen in love with her. What I could never understand was how he had fallen out.

  “You don’t.” Her eyes filled. “I missed everything.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Your father couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand.”

  “I hate to interrupt,” Dylan said, “but what is going on, Phoebe? You know there are werewolves after us?”

  “Of course. I sent the crows to bring you to me.”

  “You sent them?” I repeated.

  “How else would I get you here?”

  “I think we need to get out,” Dylan muttered, glancing back the way we’d come.

  “We will,” Phoebe soothed. “But first, I’ll explain.”

  “Explain quick,” Dylan said.

  She smiled. “I always liked you the best of any of my jailers, Dylan.”

  He winced at the word, and she patted his hand. “As I said, that’s all over. I’m glad you weren’t there when they came for me.”

  “How did you get away?” Dylan asked.

  “I felt them coming before they arrived.”

  Dylan glanced at me. I shrugged. I’d known the wolves were werewolves before I’d been close enough to see them. I’d felt my mother from very far away. Things that used to be crazy suddenly weren’t.

  “How did they find you in the first place?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. Your father wa
s the only one who knew where I was.”

  Something must have shown in my face, because she paled. “He’s dead.”

  “Yes.” He was now, thanks to me, but I wasn’t going to get into J.T.’s dual demise.

  “J.T. wasn’t the only one who knew where to find you,” Dylan said. “Over the years, there’ve been quite a few guards and nurses.”

  “Fewer than you’d think. Everyone was like you, Dylan. They’d seen werewolves, and they believed. They were safer here; they didn’t want to leave.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Would you sell me out to the beasts?”

  “Of course not!”

  She patted him. “Exactly. J.T. wasn’t a nice man, but he was a smart one.”

  I saw what she was getting at. In hiring people who’d seen what she’d seen, J.T. had protected Phoebe in the best way possible. Those who knew what werewolves could do, those who’d been hurt by them or lost loved ones to them, would never turn anyone over to the common enemy.

  “Did J.T. believe in werewolves?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure if he truly believed. He never saw one.”

  Until the end.

  “He sent you here,” I said. “He divorced you.”

  “To keep me safe. Telling everyone I was insane kept people from wondering. Telling everyone I was dead kept them from searching.”

  “You knew he told everyone you were dead?” I took a breath. “Even me?”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” She brushed my hair away from my eyes. “It was for the best.”

  Debatable, but now was not the time for that debate.

  “If everyone thought you went insane and killed yourself, why the sudden search-and-destroy mission?” Dylan asked.

  Phoebe winced. “I made a mistake. I wanted to know more about where I came from. I bribed the other nurse to get information about my adoption.”

  “Red flag,” Dylan muttered.

  Phoebe nodded. “First, some government yahoo showed up. The werewolves weren’t far behind. But at least I discovered how my parents died.”

  “Wolf attack?” Dylan guessed.

  “Yes and no. A pack of wolves ran onto the road, and my parents’ car went out of control. I survived, but my guardians made sure everyone thought I hadn’t. Then they sent me as far away from here as I could get.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “We’re the last surviving members of a tribe descended from wolves.”

  “Mom,” I said patiently. “That’s impossible.”

  “I’d think you’d know by now that nothing is impossible.”

  I had seen the eyes of my father in the face of a wolf. I’d seen wolves change into people. I’d seen people and wolves explode into flames at the touch of a silver bullet. Impossible just didn’t mean what it used to.

  “There are many Native American tribes who believe they’re descended from animals,” Phoebe continued. “The Ojibwe, for instance, are divided into clans by the animals they are descended from. It’s a common enough origination legend.”

  “Legends aren’t real.”

  “Werewolves are considered a legend,” Phoebe said.

  I gave up. “Fine, we’re descended from wolves.”

  Which kind of explained why the real wolves had come to help me after I’d fallen in the frozen river. They’d known I was one of them, even though I hadn’t.

  “If we’re part wolf, wouldn’t that make the werewolves our brothers or our cousins?” I asked. “Why do they want us dead?”

  “Because something in our blood or our DNA makes us immune to lycanthropy.”

  “Which explains why you didn’t shape-shift,” Dylan pointed out.

  “You were bitten?” Phoebe’s hands fluttered, her face flushed, and she began to hyperventilate. “When? How?”

  “Calm down,” I said. “If we’re immune, what difference does it make if I was bitten?”

  I certainly didn’t plan to tell her by whom. That info might give her a stroke.

  “You’re right.” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Just the thought of you being attacked…”

  “I’m fine. A little nip, healed right up.”

  I showed her my hand, which was now completely void of any mark at all. She smiled. “You’re living proof that the legend is real.”

  In the next instant, her smile disappeared, and the agitation returned. “They’ll want us more than ever now. The werewolves want us dead, and the government wants to put us in a lab and discover what makes us tick. I’m sure one of their Men in Black was right behind the werewolf assassins in Manhattan.”

  I shuddered. If I hadn’t hopped a plane, I’d have been in a government-sanctioned cage by now, being poked and probed. I’d rather be here.

  “Why did they attack J.T.?” I asked. “He wasn’t immune.”

  “They don’t like to leave loose ends,” Dylan answered. “They were going after Phoebe and you. If they left J.T. behind, he’d raise a ruckus. With his kind of money, he could hunt them down for decades. If all three of you were gone…” Dylan spread his hands. “Retribution would most likely end there.”

  “Why do the werewolves care if we’re alive or dead? It’s not like we can repopulate the world with anti-lycanthropy children.”

  “No, but if whatever it is that makes us special is isolated,” Phoebe said, “perhaps made into a vaccine, all of their fun is over. If they can’t make new werewolves, sooner or later, they’ll die out.”

  “That sounds like a good thing to me.”

  “Are you willing to give up your life for it? Live in a lab like a rat? I just spent the last twenty years in a cage, Carly. I don’t recommend it.”

  “You may not have a choice,” Dylan said. “If we can manage to get away from these werewolves, there’ll be others. They won’t stop. Maybe you’d be better off with government protection.”

  “I know a place that’s safe for us. Where we can live free, together.” Voices sounded near the mouth of the cave, and Phoebe’s expression darkened. “We have to hurry.”

  I glanced at Dylan. I still wasn’t certain how sane my mother was, although what she’d said made sense of a lot of things that hadn’t.

  I guess anything was better than waiting there for the werewolves.

  We followed Phoebe into the passageway, then turned away from the entrance. The narrow path twisted and turned, dipped, then inclined. We walked for at least ten minutes before a lighter shade of darkness appeared. Five minutes more, and we emerged into another world.

  Still bound by ice and snow, the land was flatter, more tundra than forest, with miles of white on white, trailing into the darkness.

  “We’re about a hundred miles from Barrow, inside the Arctic Circle,” Phoebe explained. “There’s a village here for people who need to hide.”

  My gaze wandered over the barren landscape. “Are you sure?”

  “The crows wouldn’t lie.”

  I rubbed my forehead, wondering again if Phoebe was completely sane, despite the truth in her werewolf delusions.

  “I’m not crazy,” she said. “Eventually, you’ll understand the crows, too. Along with our immunity, we also come into a little bit of magic.”

  “Magic,” I repeated dully, now rubbing the bridge of my nose.

  “You sound just like your father.” Phoebe made a tsking sound. “You’ve seen werewolves. If that isn’t magic, what is?”

  She had a point. I dropped my hand. “What kind of magic?”

  “You’ll gain some of the powers of a wolf,” Phoebe explained. “You’ll be able to smell, hear, and see much better than any human.”

  My eyes widened. “I already can.”

  Phoebe cast a quick glance at Dylan, then returned her gaze to mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought I was nuts. Instead of shifting when we’re bitten, we get these powers?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “I was never bitten, Carly.”

  “But—”

  “You’re expecting a
child.”

  I started as if I’d been stuck with a cattle prod. I could do nothing but open and shut my mouth; no sound came out.

  “Creating a child is magic,” she continued, “so it brings out the magic in us.”

  I couldn’t look at Dylan. Every time we’d been together rushed through my mind. There hadn’t been that many, but one was all it took. We’d neglected, in our mad rush to avoid the werewolves, to bring along a condom. I hadn’t even thought of the lack until just that moment.

  My heart raced; I felt dizzy. Dylan and I had only known each other a few days. Sure, extreme danger brings people closer, but does it keep them together forever? Did he even want children?

  Dylan touched my shoulder. I glanced into his eyes, and suddenly everything was all right.

  “I told you there was magic in the world,” he whispered, and kissed me.

  There was definitely magic right here and now between us.

  When he lifted his head, determination filled his face. “You two go ahead. I’ll make certain they don’t follow us.”

  “You can’t fight them all,” I said.

  “Sure I can.”

  “They’re werewolves, Dylan. Not terrorists.”

  “Same thing,” he muttered.

  With my enhanced senses, I heard them on the other side of the cave—thumping, scrambling, muttering. They were definitely up to something.

  “We need to go,” I said.

  I didn’t want to watch a pack of werewolves come out of this cave. I certainly didn’t want Dylan to face his nightmare all over again.

  “Relax,” Phoebe murmured. “They’re still ruled by the sun and the moon. They can’t shift for hours yet. Whatever they’re up to, they’ll be up to it as men.”

  The three of us headed down the other side of the mountain. We’d no sooner reached the flatter frozen land than a huge kaboom rent the air. A sharp crackle, then a whoosh sounded. When we turned around, all we saw was a puff of white shooting up from the other side of the mountain.

  “Avalanche,” Phoebe murmured. “That’s what you get for using explosives near that much snow.” She shook her head. “They’re so predictable. Always blowing people up whenever they can’t eat them. By the time they dig their way out, if they even can, they’ll think we’re dead.”