The Huntress (Lupus Moon Book One)

by Kevin Sorrell

  "Offering parenting advice now?" Alex cut Baines a scowl. He dropped his eyes. "Sorry." Alex drew a deep breath. Pulled her eyes away. "Kristen wasn't happy about leaving the body. She and Jenny were very close. Like sisters."

  "So I heard. But it was for the best. Taking to body would only raise more questions--and hide what's really going on here."

  "Jenny's wasn't the only body." Baines met Alex's stare. "There was another. A boy. Derek. Kristen said they killed him in the woods near the river. She said there were two of them."

  "That I saw," Alex said. "It would be nice if that's all there was, but..."

  "You think there's more."

  Alex shrugged. "Could be. Could be not. But what I know is I need to take care of them before they come back looking for Kristen.

  Baines nodded grimly. "I want to thank you for...saving my daughter." He turned to Alex. "But don't think I'm not also disappointed you came into my town without telling me."

  "Your town? I was under the impression this place was called Weeping Springs."

  "Don't mock me, Alexandria," Baines said, his grip on the shotgun tightening.

  Alex noticed. "I didn't want to make any trouble," she said. "After what happened in Texas..."

  "That wasn't your fault."

  Alex scoffed and looked away. She had always found Richard Baines to be a kind man, but at the moment, he was being exceedingly gracious in Alex's mind, and she didn't believe she deserved it.

  "How are the others?" Baines asked. "Jeb? Riley?"

  "They're fine, I guess," Alex said flippantly. "I haven't talked to them in a while. I've been doing my own thing for the past two years."

  Baines chuckled. "You never were much of a team player."

  "Served me fine thus far."

  This time, it was Baines who shrugged. He turned back to the quiet town. "I moved away to escape this madness and yet somehow, it's found me. I suppose you heard about those boys in the woods."

  "It's what brought me here," Alex said. "I was hoping to slip into town and check it out. If it was nothing, I'd be gone without you even knowing I was here." She looked at Baines. Fixed her eyes in his. "But it isn't nothing, and I think you already knew that."

  Baines sighed, walked to the adjacent rail. The wood creaked as he leaned against it. "They were just kids, Alex. One of them, Ethan...he was a member of the church. Damned thing came along and slaughtered them all, ripped them to pieces. Police claimed it was a bear, even got somebody from wildlife to co-sign it." Baines hefted his shotgun, examined it. "I wanted so badly to believe them. But that old instinct kicked in, and it just wouldn't let me go. Even told myself if it was a lyca, maybe it had just passed though and was headed on its way. Common sense told me better, of course." He gestured to the shotgun. "Which is why I kept ol' Nancy ready, just in case." Baines set the gun on the rail. "I don't know why they're here, though. Not much around."

  "Which makes it perfect if you're looking to rebuild your pack or set roots."

  Baines groaned. He turned his back to Alex.

  "Hey. Don't worry. I'll find out who they are and take them out. I'll be done and out of your hair in no time."

  "Good."Alex scowled. Baines turned back to her. Smiled. "It really is good to see you, Alex."

  "Likewise," Alex said with a smirk. "At least I got to formally meet Kristen. Seems like a nice girl. Definitely a fighter."

  "That's what got her into trouble," Baines replied. "I told her she couldn't go to that dance, and I strongly advised her to tell Jenny to stay home, too."

  "Did you tell her why?"

  Baines stood straight. He glared at Alex. "No. Why would I? I don't want Kristen to have any part in this. She's just a girl. A normal, everyday girl. She deserves to have a normal, everyday life, just like everybody else."

  "Normal, everyday girls go to parties with friends," Alex countered. "She's what, sixteen? No way in hell you can keep her under lock and key and expect her to be okay with that."

  "She will if I tell her to."

  "Oh yeah?" Alex strolled over to Baines. "And how did that work when you tried it with me?"

  Baines' nostrils flared. "So what, I'm a bad father for wanting to keep my only daughter safe?"

  "No," Alex said, "but you and I both know you're not doing Kristen any favors by keeping her in the dark. And now that she's had a sample, she's going to have questions--a lot of them. And if you don't give her the answers, she's going to seek them out on her own, so it's up to you to determine how she's going to be brought up to speed." Alex returned to the rail.

  Baines contemplated her words. "I...I wouldn't know where to start."

  That's easy," Alex said. "Start at the beginning. Tell her everything. What you know about lycas, what we really did in Texas...the truth about her mother..." Baines glared at her. Alex put her hands up. "Know what? It's really not my place." She moved for the trap door.

  "Alex."She stopped. Glanced at Baines over her shoulder. "Where are you staying?"

  "Some old gas station. It's out of the way. Completely abandoned. It's not a Hilton, but I've had worse."

  "I know," Baines said. "I was there with you for some of those. But you're staying here now. No questions asked. It's higher ground, plus it's sure as hell more secure."

  "Sure as hell?" Alex teased. "You know, for a preacher man, you've got quite the salty mouth."

  "Pastor or not, I'm still a grown man," Baines said with a wry smile. "The same one who trained you, as a matter of fact."

  "You gave me a good start, but you have to admit, I had an advantage in certain areas. Plus I've picked up a few tricks along the way."

  "I'm sure you have." Baines retrieved his gun from the rail, turned to Alex. They studied one another. "Despite what happened, I never stopped caring about you. Or the others."

  Alex searched Baines eyes. Found the man sincere. She offered him a faint smile and a nod, then headed down the stairs.

  Baines cast a final glance at Weeping Springs before turning in for the night.

  SIX

  Craig Neiland surveyed the scene as he stepped out of his nondescript sedan outside of Weeping Springs High School. He reached back inside to retrieve his brown blazer, slipped it on, then cracked his neck. The young detective sucked a deep, calming breath, then headed for the medical examiner.

  All Neiland knew was that a dead body had been found outside the school while a dance went onside inside. Apparently one of the students had snuck outside to smoke a cigarette when he discovered a young girl's bloody body on the courtyard lawn. Deaths in Weeping Springs weren't uncommon; indeed, that was the case anywhere. But the kinds of deaths that had turned up recently was uncommon, and the uncertainty behind their cause nagged Neiland. Tall and well-built, he was a simple, practical man. Things either were, or they weren't, and all things could be explained with basic logic. Neiland didn't have much patience for things that didn't follow these guidelines, and anything flaunting the reliability of reasoning was unacceptable.

  As he approached the courtyard through the parking lot, Neiland encountered a police officer using a hand to brace himself against his unit. The officer shuddered, wretched, then spilled the contents of his stomach on the asphalt.

  "You alright, Peters?" Neliand asked, studying the cop with his lake-blue eyes.

  Peters nodded. Dragged his right sleeve across his mouth. He straightened enough to meet Neiland's gaze. "Sorry. It's just...that kid's body..." He dry heaved.

  Neiland noticed another officer interviewing two witnesses nearby. "Make sure you get some water," he said, patting Peters on the shoulder. "Stay hydrated." He moved on, continuing past the interviewing officer and into the courtyard. Horrified teachers and students watched from behind yellow tape as police processed the scene, scouring it for evidence. In the middle of the action, Quincy Ackerman knelt over Jenny's corpse. Police Chief Bill Wallace loomed over his shoulder. "What do we have, Doc?" Neiland asked.

  "Victim's name is Jennifer Moreland. Sixtee
n. Outside of that, I'm not quite sure," Dr. Ackerman replied. "I mean, we've got the body, of course. But then we have this." He handed Neiland a large, sealed evidence bag.

  Neiland lifted the bag for a better look. Inside was a silver-tipped crossbow bolt. The point and first few inches of the shaft were coated in thick, black goo.

  "Looks to be an eighteen-incher," Neiland said. "Not too common in stores. They're good for taking down medium-sized game, but anything bigger, that's your ass. I don't know what this stuff is on the end, though. Doesn't look like any kind of blood I've ever seen."

  "Nor I," Dr. Ackerman added. "But take a look at the damage done to the victim's body." He motioned to the gaping wounds on Jenny's chest. "Single slash across the upper torso. Looks like and animal, alright. Which one, though, your guess is good as mine."

  "Just like the campers three weeks ago." Neiland glanced at Chief Wallace.

  "Don't start, Craig," the portly, mid-fifties man shot back.

  "I'm just saying, Chief. It doesn't make sense. We told everyone it was a bear, but no species native to this region would do something like that. And those tracks..."

  "Look, I get one of those kids was your neighbor," Wallace growled, "so if you need more time..."

  "It's got nothing to do with that, sir," Neiland said. "I'm just trying to get to the truth."

  "We already did. Bear killed those kids. End of story."

  "And this?" Neiland pointed to Jenny's body. "You think a bear did this, too?"

  "I don't know. That's your job to figure out--detective." Wallace rumbled toward the crowd of spectators.

  Neiland grit his teeth. He'd worked exceptionally hard to make detective, and at twenty-seven, he was the youngest in the history of the Weeping Springs Police Department to hold the position. He was also the only detective, the role having been vacant for a year since the previous owner's death. Still, it was something Neiland cherished, a fulfilled promise made to his retired police officer father before he passed away. And he didn't appreciate being shat upon by a slovenly idiot who never even held the title before becoming chief of the entire department.

  "Congrats, by the way," Dr. Ackerman said as he continued his examination. "Hopefully the boys aren't giving you too much grief."

  "They aren't," Neiland lied. He glanced at the bolt again, then scanned the courtyard. "You know, if this did strike an animal I'd expect to see another body, or at least this embedded in one. "

  "I agree." Dr. Ackerman tried to rise from his crouch. Neiland tucked an arm under his for the assist. "Thanks."

  "No problem. So here's what I'm thinking. If our vic was killed by an animal, and this..." Neiland held up the bolt. "...hit the animal that killed her, then unless we find a crossbow..."

  "We're looking for a third party that knows what happened here."

  Neiland nodded. "Has the family been notified?"

  "Not yet. At least not by us. But with all these kids around here with their cell phones," Dr. Ackerman said, motioning to the observers, "I'm sure someone has already blabbed it to her folks."

  "Okay, well...I'll stop by their house and speak with them myself, after I take a quick look around."

  "Be my guest." Dr. Ackerman nodded to a pair of forensic techs. They came over to prepare Jenny's body for transport. He looked back to Neiland, who had already begun his investigation. "Craig?"

  Neiland turned.

  "You don't think it was a bear, do you?"

  "No. And you don't either. Problem is, if it isn't..." Neiland looked past the courtyard, to the wooded area. "...then what the hell are we dealing with?"

  SEVEN

  Tree branches race by in silhouette...

  A lovely black woman in her forties turns to the back seat of a luxury SUV, a huge smile on her face...

  The woman, along with a white man about the same age, sets up a tent at a campsite...

  The man, in a warm voice, "I love you, pumpkin..."

  The man walks into a forest with an ax...

  A werewolf bursts from the trees...

  The woman's torn, slain body slumps against a tree...

  The beast turns. Coils. It springs out--

  Alex's eyes snapped open. She panted, her face plastered with sweat.

  She bolted up, found herself in a middle pew in the sanctuary. It took a moment before the previous night's events came back to her. Baines had offered her his bed in the parsonage, but Alex had refused, not even accepting the couch as a consolation prize. She had told him she wanted to out of the way completely, and so she sat, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight that streamed through the large, stained-glass windows.

  Alex looked around at the modest church. The old pews, the peeling paint, the faded mural of Jesus dominating the back wall above the meager choir stand. It was a simple church. Nothing flashy or glamorous, just like the man who headed it. Alex smirked. Her old hunting partner, now being a servant of peace. She wiped the sweat from her brow and headed to the back.

  ***

  "How is he, anyway?" Dr. Cook asked from Alex's laptop, perched on the counter next to the sink.

  After accepting Baines' offer to relocate, Alex had returned to the gas station and gathered her things. Now the kitchen of Weeping Springs Baptist Church doubled as her new base of operations: weapons and effects littered the large, central oak table, while Alex's duster occupied the back of a chair. On the stove along the back wall, the front burner played host to the stainless steel teapot.

  Alex, leaning against the counter, took a steaming sip from her mug. "He's pissed. But he knew something was up." She set the mug down and turned to the window above the sink. It left her back to the room's entrance.

  "Told you you should've let him know you were coming." Dr. Cook said. She adjusted her glasses. "Is he going to help?"

  "Don't know, but I could use it. He's familiar with the area. With all the mountains and hills here, he could be useful even if he didn't pick up a gun."

  Kristen, wounded arm wrapped in gauze and still in her pajamas, appeared at the doorway. Hair disheveled and eyes puffy and red, it was obvious she hadn't gotten much sleep. Her eyes fell on Alex's arsenal.

  "Have you been able to find out if anyone knows anything?" Dr. Cook asked.

  "Not personally, but I'll ask Richard once he gets up and has his coffee. Now that it's confirmed, maybe he'll remember hearing or seeing something that could help." Alex's expression soured. "Don't even think about it."

  Dr. Cook scrunched her face. Alex turned to Kristen, frozen in place with a hand hovering over a Walther.

  "Wow! Is that...?"

  "See ya later, Doc," Alex said as she shut the laptop.

  Kristen pulled her hand back and leaned against the edge of the table. "They canceled school," she said as she fiddled with the gauze. "My dad and I are going to visit Jenny's folks in a little bit. He told them I left the party early."

  Alex said nothing, appraising the teen.

  "My daddy said y'all used to work together. For a little while. Before we moved to Colorado."

  "This is true."

  "Then how come I've never heard of you?"

  Alex raised an eyebrow. The girl definitely had grit. "Your daddy wanted to keep his two lives separate. Personal and...business...were never supposed to meet. I knew of you, though. Daddy never missed an opportunity to talk about his little girl." Alex picked up her mug and took a long sip.

  Kristen glanced at the weapons-laden table. "So those...things...last night. Were those...?"

  "Werewolves? Yes." Kristen's eyes bugged. She clutched her treated arm. "Relax. You wouldn't still be here if you were in danger of turning. That's what the spray was for."

  Kristen burst with a sigh of relief. She cradled her arm against her body.

  Alex strolled to the table and set her mug down, picking up one of the Walthers. She checked its clip.

  "Where did they come from?" Kristen asked. "Are there more out there, and if so, how can you tell if someo
ne is one? Wait, did my dad know? So when you two worked together, were y'all...?"

  "You know," Alex said, setting the gun down, "maybe you should be asking your daddy all these questions."

  "But I'm asking you."

  Alex shot her eyes at Kristen. The girl wavered, but didn't drop her gaze. "Look, I know you're going through a lot right now so I'm gonna let that slide," Alex said, "but you can check your snotty-ass attitude with me. I'm not your daddy. I will slap the shit out of you." She glared at Kristen; a game of chicken.

  Kristen blinked. Alex took up her shotgun and popped it open for inspection.

  "I still don't like lying to Jenny's parents," Kristen said. "They're basically family."

  "All the more reason to do it. Lying keeps them safe."

  Kristen stared at Alex, incredulous. "Are you serious? They need to know what's going on! Everyone needs to know!"

  Alex snapped the shotgun closed. "Sure. Run out there and tell folks that Weeping Springs is being attacked by werewolves and see what happens. Best case, they'll look at you like you're crazy. Worst," she said, sliding on her shoulder holsters, "they panic. Either way, nobody gets helped, and everybody gets killed." Alex secured the holsters.

  Kristen watched as she filled them with her pistols. "Where are you going?"

  "I need intel," Alex said. "I can't get it sitting here arguing with you." She grabbed the sheathed Bowie knife and strapped it to her right leg.

  "I'm going with you."

  "Like hell you are. Let's get one thing straight," Alex said. "What I do isn't for amateurs, and it damn sure isn't legal. Last thing I need is your scary ass getting in the way while tagging along on a revenge quest."

  "Easy for you to say," Kristen said, her voice trembling. "You didn't lose your best friend last night."

  "No," Alex said as she wrapped the pouch of spikes around her left wrist. "I lost more." She removed her duster from the chair and slipped it on, pulling it tight over the holsters. "I suggest you don't go too many places, but you've already proven you don't listen, so be careful when you're out. That compound I used on your arm kept you from getting infected, but you're still what we call marked--imprinted with a scent unique to the lyca who attacked you. They can smell it from a quarter mile, and it never goes away."