Wicked Moon (The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles Book 2)

by Tori Centanni

  They relaxed when they saw it was just us.

  “I was using my wolf skills,” I said.

  Raff frowned. He held the jar out in front of him like it might bite and bent down to retrieve the lid, which he screwed back on with surgical precision. Satisfied it was on tight, he gave me a hard look.

  “This stuff is dangerous.”

  I looked pointedly at the dead woman behind him and said, “You think?”

  Raff growled.

  Owen laughed. “Little wolfling has claws.”

  “Don’t be a jerk,” Rayna hissed, elbowing her partner. “Let’s finish checking the closets.”

  They resumed their search. Raff stared at me like I’d been running with scissors and now he was afraid to let me out of his sight. I did my best not to roll my eyes as I struggled to remember if I’d seen these exact jars anywhere in the Underground Market. There’d been so much stuff and we’d moved too fast for me to get a good look at anything, but I didn’t think so. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check, and I could ask that red-head if she knew anything.

  Of course, supernaturals rarely gave anything, even information, away for free, and I didn’t want to tell Rayna and Owen my suspicions. For one thing, I could be way off base, and there was no sense in wasting their time. And for another, I didn’t trust them to keep their cool in a place like the Underground Market.

  I glanced over at Raff, whose blue eyes were still boring into me. His eyebrows rose in question as I met his gaze, wondering at my thoughts.

  “Later,” I mouthed.

  I could trust him. But I needed to wait until we were alone.

  Chapter 8

  “Are you sure you didn’t imagine this supernatural bazaar? This place looks like it should have been torn down years ago,” Raff said as we stood outside the seemingly abandoned warehouse with the entrance to the Underground Market inside.

  I glared and opened the unlocked front door, which didn’t exactly score me any points, since it was just as dusty and dilapidated inside.

  Raff smirked. “I hear faerie wine can induce some very realistic hallucinations.”

  I punched him in the shoulder and headed for the small office at the back.

  “I know better than to drink anything a faerie gives me. Speaking of, I should warn you…”

  Raff frowned, very deeply.

  I ignored him. “This place has a lot of… stuff. And vendors. It’s easy to get distracted, but I think we need to stay on task. So here’s the plan: We head to the woman I mentioned first, the redhead, and then look around for a matching jar. Ignore anyone who tries to sell us something unless it’s the jar we’ve seen. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sure. But what if a sexy demon offers me a poisoned apple?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  I rolled my eyes and pulled open the trap door. Thankfully, Raff refrained from commenting on the bleak emptiness of the hole as he descended on the ladder. If I hadn’t known the market was down there, I would have been dubious, too. It certainly didn’t look like anything but an old storage hatch.

  When I reached the bottom, I strained to remember what Michael had done to open the wall. He’d touched a brick. Or was it many bricks? I sure hoped it wasn’t a bunch of them in a specific order. I reached forward and ran my fingers over the rough surface, pushing on each brick until finally one gave. The wall opened with a whoosh.

  Raff’s eyes widened as the lights and sounds of the market flooded the small space, and we stepped out into the chaos.

  It was around ten o’clock at night, and the market was bustling. It was far busier than it had been yesterday when Michael and I had come through. Since we hadn’t seen anyone in the warehouse, there had to be other, more popular entrances and exits to this place. The bustling activity made it feel more like a mall mid-day on a weekend than a secret underground arcane market. With the blue-painted ceiling and the lights strung up illuminating the space, one could lose all sense of time in here.

  “Which way?” Raff asked, all business.

  “Straight ahead.”

  I reached for Raff’s hand and stopped short of taking it. It seemed too intimate to do so, somehow. Raff saw my reach and the way I pulled back. He tilted his head, as if trying to solve a puzzle I’d suddenly asked him to solve.

  I cleared my throat and plunged into the crowd. Raff followed close behind. I could feel his presence at my back, which was comforting. Who knew who or what might be down here?

  The redhead’s table was about halfway down the alley between the entrance and the dark alley with the blood vendor. She was at her table, which had a line in front of it. She was still staring at her phone, while a black haired young woman with tan skin next to her sold wares. While her table-mate’s half of the table was quickly being depleted of stock, the redhead’s side was still crowded with jars and vials. Since the line was snaking out behind the other woman, Raff and I squeezed in right in front of the redhead. She looked up hopefully.

  “You’re not here for a luck potion,” the redhead said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  Her gaze swept from me to Raff and she said, “And I don’t do love potions. I find them ethically suspect.”

  “I don’t need a love potion,” Raff said, his voice a little strained as he flushed slightly.

  The redhead smiled up at him. “No, I don’t imagine you would.”

  Raff straightened, his muscles flexing almost automatically. I groaned inwardly. We hadn’t come here so Raff could flirt.

  “I’m Raff,” he said.

  “Avery,” the redhead said.

  “Charlie,” I said, scooting in front of Raff to shake the hand Avery offered. “You spoke to me earlier.”

  “When you were with the human, yeah, I remember,” Avery said, setting down her phone. “Don’t get a lot of your kind down here.”

  Raff stiffened at that, and not because he was turned on.

  But instead of pointing out that werewolves were every bit as supernatural and awesome as, say, shifters or vampires, he said, “I’m guessing there’s not a lot of wares for our kind.”

  “Not usually,” Avery said, “unless you want a luck spell. Mine are twenty percent off, by the way.”

  She tucked a red strand of hair behind her ear. The black cat I’d seen earlier hopped onto the table to sniff at us and then hissed, its ears pointing backwards. Avery picked the cat up and set it back on the ground.

  “What’s she selling?” I asked, nodding at the young woman sharing her table.

  She heard and answered for herself.

  “Properly done spell work,” she said, her bright saleswoman smile never wavering.

  “My spell work is perfectly serviceable, Valerie,” Avery said in a tone that suggested the two of them had had the same argument millions of times and she was tired of it.

  The man buying from Valerie took his vial of blue liquid and, as he turned to go, murmured, “Trash witch,” in Avery’s direction.

  Valerie bristled, but Avery waved a dismissive hand and Valerie turned her attention to her next customer.

  “What is it you want, then?” Avery asked. “If it’s that anti-shifting potion, then like I said, the dude who sells that junk won’t be back until closer to the next full moon. But I almost guarantee it’s a scam anyway. I tried to warn the people down here buying it, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. Raff shifted uneasily beside me.

  “What potion?” I asked.

  “What people?” Raff asked.

  Avery’s eyes widened for a moment and she glanced across the way at the still-empty table across the street. “The one that’s suppose to stop you guys from shifting during the full moon. Isn’t that what you want? The guy sold several jars last week. Figured word had spread through the werewolf grapevine.”

  “No, it hasn’t,” Raff said gruffly. “Tell us about it.”

  Avery blinked, then shrugged. “This guy showed up last month right before the full moon.
Claimed to a be a sorcerer with access to an ancient magic, which set off my bullshit detectors right away. I mean, all magic is ancient when you think about it. But down here, some people put on a show. Wear a persona, do their best salesman shtick, you know?”

  I nodded. When we’d come through earlier, several vendors wore flashy outfits and looked eager to give me a pitch, if only I’d have stopped to listen.

  “He claimed to have this special potion for werewolves. He called it Wolf Bane, like the plant but two words. Normally I appreciate a good pun, but I found it pretty distasteful.”

  Given Raff’s wrinkled nose; he was right there with Avery on that one. I didn’t get it.

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Because wolfsbane is poisonous to our kind,” Raff said. “Less so than silver, but it can do some serious damage in large doses.”

  “Oh, God,” I said, picturing the foul smelling green liquid in Linda’s house, the same poison that Rob and Tracy drank.

  “Yeah, I thought it was a big red flag that he was an insensitive douchebag, if nothing else, but no one listens to me,” Avery said. “I’m the trash witch.”

  “Why do they call you that?” I asked.

  Avery smiled faintly, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Because I’m less rigid when it comes to spell ingredients and methods. I use what’s handy.”

  “And trash,” Valerie said, winking at Avery as she sold yet another tincture or potion.

  “I took a banana peel out of the trash one time,” Avery countered.

  “The spell called for the skin of a yellow slug,” Valerie said.

  “And they call me the gross one.” The red strand of hair that she’d tucked back had fallen forward again, and she pushed it back behind her ear. “Anyway, my version worked. Sort of.”

  “So this guy selling the anti-werewolf potion,” Raff said, gently easing the conversation back on track.

  “It’s not anti-werewolf. That wouldn’t fly down here. Plenty of supernaturals aren’t fans of weres, but they’ll definitely take your side versus mundane humans any day of the week,” Avery said. “It’s meant to help werewolves, or so the guy claims. According to him, if the potion is drunk on the day of the full moon, it supposedly prevents the shift. But like I said, I’d bet money it’s a scam. Probably a jar of spinach juice or something.”

  “It’s poison,” I said, remembering the labels of the jars all of the dead werewolves had drunk out of. They’d been labeled “WB” - Wolf’s Bane. Raff shot me a look, but I figured Avery should know. She might be able to keep others from buying his poison if he showed up again.

  Avery blinked. “Really? That’s evil. I knew I should have bought a jar and done some testing. I could tell the guy was skeevy.”

  “He showed up last month?” Raff asked.

  “Yeah. But he didn’t sell any until last week. Like I said, werewolves don’t frequent this market. Guess word got out, though, because he sold a couple this month. Packed up on the day of the full moon and vanished.”

  I swallowed as ice tried to crystallize over my throat.

  “Who bought them?” I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer. I’d already seen their bodies.

  “Some guy one night. He bought more than one. And an older woman bought a couple, I think. Guess a lot of your kind prefer not to wolf out.”

  She smiled, like she was sharing a joke with us. I smiled weakly back to be polite, but she wasn’t wrong. Raff, however, kept his jaw tight.

  “Did you get his name?” Raff asked.

  Avery shook her head. “I try not to talk to creeps. He was tall with greasy brown hair. Wore a suit with a coat and tails, like he thought he was a stage magician or something.”

  “And he was a sorcerer?” I asked.

  “He claimed to be, from what I overheard. But sorcerer is just a word witches use when we want to feel fancy.”

  “You can’t tell?” Raff asked, surprised.

  Avery shrugged. “Some witches have fairly weak magic and can be hard to distinguish from humans. If he’s peddling poison, though, who knows. The Witches’ Council will probably put a stop to it when they find out.”

  Valerie shot Avery a look, ready to comment, but another customer quickly took the place of her last one, and she had to focus on selling her wares instead.

  I opened my black sequined purse and pulled out a pad of post-its. I wrote my number and name and stuck it to the table in front of Avery.

  “If he comes back, will you call me?”

  “Sure. But like I said, I don’t expect he’ll be back until just before the full moon next month. Seems to sell when demand is high and then retreat again.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe it’s poison. I was sure it was junk juice but that… that’s just wrong.”

  “Yeah,” Raff said. From the strain on his face, I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: That was a massive understatement.

  Chapter 9

  “Someone is selling anti-shift potion for werewolves and lacing it with poison?” a woman in the front row asked, her voice high and full of fear.

  The room full of werewolves exploded. People shouted as they jumped from their chairs and tried to talk over each other in order to be heard as panic swept through the crowd.

  Sasha had said pretty much the same thing in a subtler way, but with that one terrified question, the room erupted into total chaos.

  After returning from the Underground Market last night, we’d called Sasha to tell her what we’d learned, and she’d called this emergency wolf pack meeting for this evening.

  So now Northern Washington Wolf Pack was gathered in a barn at Jean’s orchard that often served as a meeting room. There was no sign of apples or produce, just rows of folding chairs and space heaters glowing in every corner. The Portland Pack had sent a third representative, who was sticking close to Rayna and Owen, and there were about forty-five people in the room, maxing out its capacity. The only person missing was Marianne, who wasn’t officially part of the pack. From what Jean said, she was mostly kept “contained” in one bedroom for her own safety. I shivered at the thought of her discovering this poison. Even if she knew it was fatal, she’d probably be happy to chug it, and that made my blood run cold.

  Raff and I remained seated near the front as people stood to be heard as they shouted over each other. Sasha whistled. The sound was piercing and I winced. I wasn’t the only one. Soon, the noise settled down.

  “If everyone will calm down, I’d like to finish the meeting,” Sasha said firmly.

  Gradually, people took their seats with minimal muttering and scoffing.

  “It’s not a real cure for the shift,” Sasha continued. “We believe it’s merely a ruse to get us to drink the poison.”

  She explained how the person claiming to sell the transformation cure was obviously trying to kill werewolves. She warned the pack to keep their ears open for rumors or information about anyone offering any kind of potion or magic to werewolves.

  “As long as you don’t drink any potions or tinctures, you will be safe. Let’s keep everyone safe by being vigilant,” Sasha finished. “Meeting adjourn—“

  “I’d like to say a few words.”

  A muscular man in a tight black t-shirt with black, curly hair and olive skin stood up in the front row. He’d been sitting between Rayna and Owen and now made his way to the front. He wore leather pants that did very nice things for his butt as he made his way to the podium. Not that I was paying attention to his butt. Or any werewolf’s butt, for that matter. But leather pants made it hard not to notice.

  Sasha stepped aside and let the man speak.

  “My name is Levi. I’m the Alpha of the Portland Pack.”

  Murmurs spread through the crowd. Levi looked like an alpha, with his broad shoulders and high cheek bones. Well, an alpha or an underwear model.

  “What’s happening here is a threat to all werewolves, regardless of pack affiliation. One of ours has already been killed by this scheme.
I’m here to offer my help and support in the capture and punishment of those responsible.”

  Rayna and Owen, along with two others from their pack, applauded wildly and soon the rest of the crowd joined in. I clapped, too, in order to be polite. Raff remained motionless in his seat to set the Portland Alpha’s hair on fire with his glare.

  “You don’t like him?” I whispered.

  Raff lifted his shoulders slightly, but his jaw remained clenched. That would be a yes. I wondered what he had against the guy. He seemed personable enough to me. And not just because he was smoking hot.

  Sasha thanked everyone for coming, and the meeting broke up. People whispered about the poison as they left the barn, some lamenting that the transformation potion was a fake and others ranting that werewolves who tried to stop the change deserved what they got. I aimed a dirty look at one older man who was saying that in his day everyone knew better than to toy with witch magic, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  The Portland Pack members and several members of our pack stayed behind. Sasha folded her arms over her chest as she engaged in tense but polite conversation with Levi. He had almost a foot on her, though her heels helped, and he kept his posture loose and casual. My heart sped up as his gaze swept over the dwindling crowd and landed on me. Only for a second. Just enough to really get a good look at me before moving on.

  Now that the room was mostly empty, Raff stood. Most of the others left were warriors: Miles, whom I’d met briefly, a tough-looking blonde woman named Zara, and a few others I didn’t know. I knew they were warriors because they wore black and stood around trying to look tough. Raff wore a black button up shirt over a green t-shirt with little black wolves scattered across it like wolf-shaped polka dots, but with his demeanor and body language, he blended right in.

  The Portland warriors, like their fellows Rayna and Owen, wore leather jackets, and the effect was that they looked more like a biker gang than a group of werewolves. As Raff and I approached the front, I noticed that both sides were baring their teeth at each other, their stances alert as if they were ready to pounce.