by Noelle N
His hand slid up so that it was flat against my cheek, and he tipped my head up slightly to capture my lips with his in a quick, heated kiss. He caught my bottom lip between both of his in a sharp but gentle tug that wrenched a quiet whimper from me, his tongue slipping in to tangle with mine until all I could feel was that delicious ache that made my head spin, until all I could taste was him, along with an unexpected twang of blood when I ran my tongue across his lower lip, feeling the slight fissure across his lips from the accident earlier. It should've hurt and it probably did, but instead, my actions forced him even closer, leaning in until I could feel the firm planes of his chest, hear the low, throaty groan that slipped past his lips as he deepened the kiss.
The metallic twang of blood and the sweet taste of him, and I couldn't get it out of my head how much of a representation it was of Jed. He was on either ends of every spectrum I knew – he was danger and he was safety; he did bad things for good reasons; he led me away from my house but he was my home.
Such a paradox – was all I could think of, the words branding themselves across my mind – and I am so in love with you.
When Jed finally pulled back, it was just fractionally, so that I could still feel the movement of his lips, a delicious friction against mine when he spoke. "Never," he murmured, in response to my earlier words, leaning in just slightly to seal promise with another kiss.
* * *
It was like that night when the rogues had invaded the house all over again. The frightening reality of the situation didn't really register until much, much later; and I woke up the next morning with a choked sob lodged in my throat and the suffocating stench of smoke and debris blanketing me. Only it was just a nightmare.
But the threats were very, very real.
To my surprise, Jed wasn't standing by the counter nursing his usual mug of coffee when I headed downstairs after freshening up. The main door was ajar, and I could hear muffled voices from outside, vague shadows on the front porch that blocked the sunlight from filtering all the way through.
This clearly wasn't a conversation I was meant to participate in, so I simply brewed a fresh pot of coffee and left it sitting on the counter. After pouring myself a full mug, I grabbed a granola bar and headed for the library, walking slowly so as not to further aggravate my swollen ankle.
Time to make sense of the situation.
That was something I always wanted – no, needed – to do ever since Jed told me about Claudius and Malthus. He had his suspicions and I had mine. His suspicions were well-based and inferred from what he already knew: the neighbouring packs, the history of their world and his father's brutal legacy.
Mine was – far-fetched, but not entirely unfounded.
Shutting the door behind me, I stood in the middle of the spacious room, squinting at the way the sunlight sifted through the crevice between the curtains, bathing the place in an almost ethereal glow. I headed over to the couch immediately, gathering my laptop off the table and propping it open. I'd lived in this house long enough to set up camp somewhere, and if Jed's workplace was his study room and the counter in the kitchen, then mine was here – curled up on the couch with the scent of old books and coffee.
Settling back against the arm of the couch, I booted up the internet on my laptop and stared at the search bar for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, ever ready to type – M-a-l-t-h-u-s T-r-e-v-i-n-o.
The letters were so tempting to key in, but was it a risk worth taking? If Prometheus knew where we were, knew when to catch us unaware and knew exactly when to intercept our car, what were the odds that they actually knew our plans before we even made them? Was it too far-fetched an idea to suspect that our every move was being watched by Malthus, including carrying out potential background checks on him?
"Damn it," I mumbled quietly, shutting my laptop and shoving it aside, before getting up. If the internet wasn't an option because I was paranoid about my tracks being traced, then there was always Plan B.
Books.
Jed had kept the library in top-notch condition, but after spending many an evening in here, I eventually came to realise that most of the books weren't his. Jed hardly ever spent his free time reading, if he had any to begin with. No, the lingering scent of lavender and unusually feminine decorations that didn't seem to match the rest of the house at all were signs telling of the fact that this room belonged to a woman with a passion for reading.
His mother, probably.
She'd kept an impossibly wide variety of books here, and I found myself trailing my fingers across the spines of the books, staring blankly at the titles as I thought. My mind swam with thoughts about the night Jed had told me about his past. His father's legacy and what his brother had perpetuated. And, more importantly, the list of suspects that Jed had gathered over the years.
Malthus was never a name that would've caught my attention had not been for the fact that it was alongside a list of other names. None of these names were common. Raum. Dimitri. Azazel. Tamiel. Orcus. Xaphan. Why those? Why did they all sound so –
Suddenly, I paused when I caught a glimpse of a particular title. Mythology & Folklore. Its placement was odd – the book was in between two classics, and I quickly pulled it out. Call it coincidence, call it intuition, but I was following a hunch on this one It wasn't until I set it down on the carpeted floor to have a closer look at it that I found another book wedged between its pages. Supernatural Beings in Theology.
As always, curiosity killed the cat. Settling down on the floor and facing the shelf, I placed the book on my lap. After flipping through several pages, I found an earmarked page that made me pause. The chapter's title was what made an involuntary shiver race down my spine because it was about Demonology – a branch of study of theology, particularly relevant to supernatural beings with malevolent connotations and intentions.
The first few pages were length descriptions of demons in culture, demons in mythology, demons in religion. The list was exhaustive, but it wasn't until several pages later that I realised I'd finally found what I'd been searching for. Because, taped to the top of the page, was a lengthy note. Scratched in neat but haphazard handwriting on yellow faded paper, the words ran –
The following suspects have been rumoured to be part of a syndicate that has proven to be impossible to track, much less take down, over the past decades.
RAUM
Responsible for massacres that wiped out two-thirds of Ganymede.
(Within a month of the massacres, a town several miles south of Ganymede was reported to have had a series of mysterious kidnappings. It has been theorised that the human residents who once lived there were turned against their will, which would explain the sudden spike in Ganymede's population thereafter. The ghost-town has since then been demolished and taken over by a new pack called Surtur.)
TAMIEL
Responsible for the operation of the Black Market.
(The Black Market operates on a covert level and its location cannot be pinpointed. Apart from offering illegal goods and services, such as drugs and prostitution; the Black Market is perhaps best known for selling weapons made of a substance that werewolves are most susceptible to – silver.)
XAPHAN
Unknown.
(All that is known about him is that he was the first Alpha of Surtur, which leads many to believe that he has had dealings with Raum.)
footnote:
Rumours are that the following packs may be home to members of the syndicate:
Bergelmir, Fenrir, Ganymede, Kalyke, Surtur, Titan
The current list is not exhaustive or
"Luna?"
The sudden voice made me jump and I quickly spun round, eyes wide and posture stiff with fear; only to realise that Jed, Adrian, Spike and Lance were standing by the doorway, matching looks of concern on their faces as they noticed my odd reaction. Jed's gaze sharpened, zeroing in on the book propped open on the floor. The other one, the one with all the notes, was on my lap and half shi
elded by my body. And all I could remember were the notes I'd read earlier.
If werewolves are real, who's to say demons aren't?
Not actual demons, but werewolves with sinister intentions and there were rumours that they resided in Titan. Was Malthus one? Was Claudius another? Were there more of them? My mind was spinning with the endless possibilities and I dragged in a deep breath.
"Hey," I greeted breezily, choking out the most believable laugh I could muster and surreptitiously shutting the book on my lap. It was fortunate that it was a thin paperback and I slid it up the inside of my jacket, while closing the book on mythology with my other hand. "What're you all doing here?"
They exchanged wordless glances before Lance turned to me. "Luna." His voice was quiet, but the underlying note of caution was impossible to miss. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, of course." I brushed his worries aside with a dismissive wave of my hand and forced myself not to look directly at Jed. Under his gaze, all I wanted to do was fall apart and I had to keep it together for now. Holding the book on mythology in front of me, I slowly climbed to my feet. "Just reading. Did you need anything?"
"Yes, actually," said Spike. "Alpha's heading out with a couple of others to track down the person behind the wheel of yesterday's crash. I'm supposed to take you to the diner so that Lorraine and I can keep an eye on you."
I glanced at Jed in amusement. "So – I need a babysitter now?"
Jed's lips twitched and Spike laughed. "You did ask for me to be your Beta, remember?"
"What?" Adrian looked so appalled that I badly wanted to laugh. "A full day of sitting around in the diner watching over our beautiful Luna and snacking on blueberry muffins and red-velvet cupcakes? That's it." He nudged Spike. "We're switching. You can be Jed's Beta."
"And spend the day gallivanting out in the woods looking like Robin freaking Hood and his bunch of merry werewolves?" Spike grinned. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'd much rather babysit our Luna."
"It's actually not really babysitting – " I started weakly, but Adrian was already folding his arms adamantly across his chest as he scowled at Spike.
"No, I don't agree to this. I call dibs next time someone gets to babysit our Luna."
Lance snorted as he heard the two of them continue to argue and glanced over at Jed. "Looks like they're abandoning you for Luna over there, Alpha."
Jed rolled his eyes and gestured for me to follow him out. Leaving Adrian and Spike to argue behind us, I trailed after Jed, while Lance soon caught up with me with his quick strides. "Mythology and Folklore," he read the title of the book that I was holding and glanced at me in surprise. "You're interested in those things?"
I shrugged defensively, hugging the book tighter to my chest. But mostly, I was concerned with not letting the other book hidden in my jacket slip out. "Ever since I found out about werewolves, I like reading about other kinds of mythical creatures. Are vampires real?"
Lance simply laughed.
Shaking my head at him, I followed him into the living room where I saw that the main door had been left wide open. Lance headed out immediately, to where Brutus, Giles and about ten others were patiently waiting out on the front porch. The sounds of mindless chatter outside could be heard in here, along with Spike and Adrian's heated debate in the background, and I quickly realised that there was no possible way for me to inform Jed of what I knew. Not right now, at least.
Instead, I set the book on mythology down on the counter near Jed. He was calmly drinking from a mug, but his gaze was sharp as he eyed me from his peripheral vision. Slowly, he set his cup down and he'd just stepped slightly closer to me when a voice interrupted us.
"Alpha?" It was Brutus, and he was leaning against the doorframe as he glanced over at us. He lowered his head politely at me, before turning back to Jed. "We're all ready to go. Giles says he's got a lead."
Jed nodded. Well aware that people were shooting us surreptitious glances, he quickly stepped towards me. His broad shoulders and tall frame shielded us momentarily as he lowered his head, brushing his lips gently against my forehead. He lingered there a moment or two, but I was more aware of the fact that he'd slid his hand up so that it was resting lightly on my hip, his fingers so light I could barely feel the contact. Then he shifted his hand slightly, so that his palm was pressing flat against the book tucked beneath my jacket.
He froze.
Then his fingers tightened momentarily on my waist and he dipped his head slightly so that his lips were brushing against the shell of my ear, sending a jolt of awareness rushing down my spine, a delicious ache in my stomach as his lips moved against my skin.
"Don't trust anyone," he whispered, his voice so infinitely quiet that I barely heard it.
Then he was straightening and brushing past me, but his hand nudged me in a secret, intimate gesture that no one else caught. He looped his fingers through mine and I felt a sudden chill of metal slide into my palm. The action was so swift that I could hardly register my surprise, and then he was striding off.
In the distance, I heard the sound of engines starting and car doors being slammed shut as Jed and the others left. But I barely noticed, because my attention was focused solely on the object that Jed had placed in my hand. On the surface, it seemed frightfully ordinary – an onyx necklace with a thin chain that had a moon-shaped pendant and a tiny star hanging off the edge of it.
It wasn't until a closer inspection that I realised exactly what the pendant was, or had once been. This was the silver necklace that I'd removed a long time ago, when I told Jed that he could trust me, and discarded it in the storeroom along with the rest of my old things I didn't need. But Jed had found it – but instead of silver, it was onyx now and so was the star.
My breath caught in my throat as I realised what he'd done. He'd anodised it so that no one could ever tell what it was originally made of. Added a crescent-shaped pendant that had a crevice along its seams, a tiny joint at the end that was almost impossible to notice if I hadn't felt it. But the full extent of his gift didn't occur to me until I twisted the joint just so and –
"Luna?" Spike's voice trailed in and I belatedly realised that he was waiting patiently for me outside, as per Jed's earlier orders. "Are you ready?"
"Yes – yes, of course," I said, my palm curling protectively around the necklace and my thumb tracing the edge of the sharp blade that curved out adjacent to the pendant, also in the shape of a crescent. Only this time, instead of the onyx it should've been, this blade glinted entirely silver.
* * *
"Again."
Spike grinned and pushed the plate towards the centre of the table. It had been a long and tiresome day at the diner, with fewer customers because most of them had joined Jed. But none of us were complaining. We'd spent the day mostly chatting, and Lorraine let me work the counter today on account of my leg.
But after the dinner rush, most of the customers continued to linger in the diner. They chattered amongst themselves about arbitrary things, but I eventually realised that, like me, they were all worried about the rest of the pack. Adrian had once told me that the diner was sort of a congregational place for Titan, and tonight was no different.
So after hanging up my apron for the day, Spike and I occupied the corner booth to play a mindless game of tic-tac-toe. Only this one was with food – almonds for him and chocolate drops for me, with plastic straws as the lines. The prize was a cookie from a batch that I'd baked, and the look on my face grew darker the more cookies Spike managed to win.
"Are you sure?" Spike was saying now, making exaggerated noises as he chewed on the cookie he'd just won. "Because you've lost three times in a row."
"It's a draw. I won the first round, you won the second and cheated twice consecutively." I glared at him before turning to his girlfriend, who was leaning against the window with her nose buried in a fashion magazine, her feet propped up in his lap. "Right, Lorraine?"
"Sorry, Luna. Wish I could help you but you should know be
tter than to play against a werewolf."
"I can definitely play against a werewolf. If said werewolf does not use any of his fast reflexes against me." Reaching across the table, I smacked Spike's hand when he attempted to remove my chocolate drop. "Don't remove the evidence. I had three and I made a line."
Spike retracted his hand with a mock-offended look. "There's only two now."
"The other one's in your mouth, you pig."
"I'm a wolf, actually, in case you didn't realise."
I rolled my eyes. "We're playing again. And this time, take your other hand off the table so I know you're not trying to steal my chocolate when you think I'm not looking."
"Good," interjected Lorraine, with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Because I've been trying to get him to take one hand off the table for like an hour now." She caught the strange look I was giving her and winked. "If you know what I mean."
"Okay, I'm going to get more coffee and try not to think about the fact that you two have probably desecrated every inch of this diner."
Climbing to my feet, I grabbed the box of cookies along with me, which made Spike let out a dismayed yelp, and headed towards the counter. Several of the younger ones had monopolised the counter while they waited, sitting on the high stools as they conversed amongst themselves.