Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness)

by Natalie Herzer

  On the far side of the rooftop stood an old shed, which I used as a training room. I kicked the door open, dim light greeted me. But I was too far gone to care about something redundant as switching on the lights.

  A sandbag dangled in the back of the room, other equipment covered the walls. Nothing mattered. I whirled around to face Kylian.

  We moved in a circle, each of us sizing up the other. Then we lunged at each other, but I ducked at the last moment ramming my shoulder into his stomach, a hard wall of muscle. He grunted. We fought. No weapons, just him and me. We kicked and punched. Block, block, kick. My muscles were warming up and I smiled. This was fun, though I knew he held back because I was a female. His fault. I landed a good punch to his nose, so that blood spurted, and then whipped about, launching a spinning hook kick. But in an iron grip he got hold of my ankle. Shit, that was a first. He pulled, throwing me off balance and in a heartbeat I found myself flat on my back, trying to get some oxygen back into my lungs. The wooden floor was hard but cool under me.

  “Gotcha!” he was standing over me, his mouth spread into a toothy grin.

  In the blink of an eye I shot up, back in a crouching position and swept my leg in a wide circle so it collided with Kylian’s ankles. It hurt but he went down like a tree.

  “Me, too,” I replied and slumped back onto the floor.

  We lay there next to each other and smiled.

  “What a nice warm-up.”

  Warm-up, my ass. I could hear him panting.

  He moved into a sitting position but I just stayed there on the cool floor.

  “You’re wounded,” Kylian suddenly barked. A sheen of light blue rolled over his eyes and vanished, his animal side resurfacing for a moment. I sat up on my elbows and saw that my shirt had ridden up, revealing the bandaged scratch on my stomach.

  “Why did you fight with me when you’re wounded?”

  I fell back again and sighed, struggling for words. “Because you’ve to understand that I can take more than the usual human. I’ve been fighting all my life – mostly alone. Against vampires and shapeshifters or whatever is ripping up humans. I go out every night whether I’m wounded or not. I learned to survive. I’m not a weak female to be protected with cotton.” I braced myself on my elbows again. “And I’m not pack or something, so you aren’t my leader. We’re equals. You’re the pack’s assassin and I’m the Patroness of Paris. This is my city, and we help each other to solve a murder.”

  When he stayed silent as if thinking about what I just said, I laid back again.

  “The rogue?” Kylian asked, his voice gentle, as he leaned forward to push up my shirt a little before softly touching my wound. His fingers, a light brush, made my skin tingle.

  I got up briskly. “Yeah, well. It’s a professional risk.” I tried to be my casual self and to change the subject. “We should get back downstairs. Or they’ll send out the search and rescue team, believing we’ve killed each other.”

  Back outside Kylian stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the flowerbed that was my rooftop. Obviously he’d been too busy chasing me to notice any of it earlier. “Wow, you’ve got yourself an oasis up here.”

  I smiled and looked at all the beautiful plants spreading out at our feet. The air was spicy, from rosemary, basil and chamomile, but also sweet from roses and lavender. Sunflowers and oxeye daisies had their bright faces turned towards the morning sun and in between them, without any sign of order, juicy red tomatoes and chili peppers shone invitingly. And that was only half of it. The whole garden was crossed by small, sometimes overgrown flagstone paths that all led to a terrace in the middle of the rooftop. An oasis, that was quite true.

  “I like the flowers. Gardening relaxes me, but with my two jobs I’ve hardly enough time to take care of them. Viviane gives me a hand as often as possible, though I don’t like seeing her crouching in the mud. She’s young inside, but there are days when her old wounds get to her. Of course, now that Pauline has moved in I don’t have to worry about either anymore. Besides, the garden will help Pauline calm down her faery nature, so a life in the city will be bearable for her.”

  We had started to walk through this green sea, enjoying the light and the sun and the scents. Kylian stopped, and I caught a waft of man and healthy sweat. I liked being with him, feeling his warmth beside me, but at the same time he rattled me. Then he smiled and those damn dimples showed up.

  “Now I get why Pauline said destiny brought you two together. You complete one another. And the ointments you told me about? You said you make them yourself.”

  I nodded. “Not only are these plants beautiful and smell nice but they also can be very useful, for example in wound healing. Very helpful in my line of work, and with a little magic it works even better. Well, and as a witch I love making my own potions, balms and whatever I need.”

  We went back to the winding staircase. Kylian leaned a little towards me and asked softly, “Did I hurt you earlier?”

  My lips curved into a smile. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I replied and headed down the stairs. At the bottom I made a beeline for my room to get some clothes before I went into the bathroom. I stripped, pulled out the pin holding my hair up and stepped into the shower. The water ran warm over my skin and I thought of Kylian. I really needed to get my hormones under control. It had been – what? – over a year now. Oh, God. No wonder I couldn’t keep my calm around a splendid specimen like him. I leaned my forehead against the cool, tiled wall. Should I give in? Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, that man had a reputation after all. And not a bad one. Besides, he would be back to the States after the situation here was taken care of anyway, so what could it hurt. I tried to ignore the whisper coming from my heart.

  A few minutes later and still not wiser, I got out of the shower stall, brushed my teeth and pulled on my clothes. I went for faded jeans and a white peasant blouse since both were light and comfortable, strapped on my hip bag and Cutter’s harness and hid my other usual weapons.

  At noon I was in my office. Kylian was with me. He’d insisted and after I’d noticed that not even Viviane nor Pauline were on my side, defending girl power, I kind of didn’t have a choice.

  So now this handsome sonovabitch was prowling my office, inspecting everything.

  “You know, I thought about our traitors.” He turned and came to sit on the edge of my desk.

  Like earlier in the garden, I noticed his scent. He wore cologne, but the very subtle and not overwhelming kind given his sensitive shapeshifter nose. He, too, had gone for faded jeans today and a burgundy shirt that showed off his muscled chest and would probably rip if he flexed a bit. A sight for the gods – who obviously really liked to kick my ass.

  I leaned back in my chair, to get a little away from him. “And?”

  “We know that there are at least four persons involved, two humans and two unknown creatures. But I bet the one pulling the strings doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, they never do. So he needs men and magical creatures to come to him, so…”

  “He has to win them over somehow,” I finished for him while my mind was already racing on, trying to think this through. “Some kind of recruiting. For that he would need a stage, to make propaganda, to lure them in.” I had an idea and grabbed the phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, what does it look like to you, Kylian?”

  He growled low in his throat.

  I rolled my eyes. “I have an idea. Trust me.”

  Mathieu answered after a couple of rings, “Salut, ça va?

  “Oui, ecoute-moi, I need your help with a case.”

  He chuckled. “Let me guess, more acid?”

  “No, not this time. Listen, it’s important. I need you to keep your eyes and ears open. Find out if there’s a group or organization or whatever that is somehow against the magical community or even the supernatural in general. They might even hint at taking actions about it. You know what I mean? Could you do that for me?”

  “Sur
e, no big deal.”

  “But if you find something, you stay put, you hear me. Call me, no Rambo-ing on your own, ‘kay?”

  “Yes, mum.” He hung up. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Who was that?” Kylian wanted to know.

  “A friend of mine,” I replied absentminded. I didn’t want anything to happen to Mathieu. But he wasn’t alone, I tried to calm myself, and he wasn’t a child anymore. And even if something might happen, Philippe would let me know immediately. Besides, they probably wouldn’t find anything at all, so there was no need to worry like an old mother hen.

  “Hello, Maiwenn? Are you listening?” Kylian’s voice, sharper than usual and laced with a little anger, brought me back to reality. I had let my mind wonder about.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  He seemed tense and I was sure I’d heard teeth grinding. “Was that your boyfriend?”

  “Ugh, no. He’s like a little brother to me.”

  “Ah.” Then, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Now it was my turn to tense. “I might be mistaken but I think that’s none of your damn business.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d been jealous there for a sec or two. The thought made me smile. Put the brakes on, Maiwenn, you’re going crazy.

  “You’re mistaken. We’ll be working together for the next couple of days or so, so I want to know if there’s someone who might take it the wrong way.”

  “No.”

  He sat straight up and looked at me. “By the way, I would appreciate you talking to me about your plans before jumping the gun on them.”

  Chapter 6

  We stayed in my office till it was time to close up. Like every Monday it had been rather quiet. Michel had called a few minutes earlier and given me the addresses of three clubs that were in full vogue within the shapeshifter community at the moment. They’ve also been advertised for outside shapeshifters and could have attracted trespassers and loners, among which we assumed our rogue.

  Kylian unfolded his map of Paris, studying it. “Where are those clubs again?”

  “Rue de la Roquette, not far from here, another in the Quartier Latin and one at the foot of Montmartre.”

  “You said the rogue was heading north as he fled yesterday, so maybe we should take a look at the last one. What do you think?”

  I blinked at him, shocked. “Wow, I can’t believe it. Are we actually starting to work together?” I pulled one of my daggers. “Who are you and what did you do to the caveman?”

  “Funny,” he replied dryly. “That toothpick supposed to impress me?”

  “Depends on who’s wielding the weapon”. I checked the daggers operativeness by hitting the concealed button and the two additional blades snapped out, flawless. Then I tucked it away, and locked the door of the office behind me.

  We walked side by side along the streets, heading for Montmartre. The sun was low in the sky, and it was one of my favorite moments of a summer day as the setting rays of sunlight hit the sandstone buildings just so that they radiated in a soft yellow or even pink hue.

  “Have you ever been to Paris before?” I asked Kylian.

  “No, though from what I’ve seen, I’m sure it’s worth a trip. And even with what little I saw I think it’s quite fitting for you to be the Patroness of Paris. You’re like Paris and Paris is like you.”

  “Noisy?”

  “A mystery.” He looked at me with dark eyes, and his lips curved. “Speechless? That’s a first from you, at least since we’ve met. Maybe I should compliment you more often.”

  I just rolled my eyes, which made him laugh even more.

  We reached Pigalle at the foot of Montmartre. We stood at a traffic circle and not far away you could already see the bright neon signs and hear the hard beat of music announcing bars, sex shops and restaurants. This quarter drew the tourists like moths to the flame. But it was still too early to check out the club. Then I saw the little white tourist train and had an idea, so I grabbed Kylian’s hand spontaneously to drag him along. “Come on.”

  “”What are we doing?

  “A little sightseeing. The club’s still closed anyway.”

  As the sun was beginning to set , the Petit Train chug along, passed the famous red-winged Moulin Rouge, and up to the highest point of the city on the only road leading directly to the top. Closer and closer to finally reveal the all white Sacré Cœur Basilica.

  We got out of the train and I led Kylian to the grand staircase in front of the basilica that offered a breathtaking view over Paris. As always the place was cramped with tourists, from all kinds of places, speaking all kinds of languages.

  We sat down on the stone steps, enjoying silently this magic moment as the sun set in the west, bathing the city in her tangerine glow. It was beautiful. As dusk was falling the lights in the street went on, spreading a warm blanket over Paris, the City of Light. As if the sun had left a part of her. Beneath my feet lay what I was fighting for, day after day. Sure if you lived here long enough this city was mostly noise and fumes, but also, if you looked, simply beautiful. Sometimes I wondered whether it was still worth it, and then there were moments like this, the city softly framed by sunlight, couples kissing, children laughing or even bickering. I’d see life and I’d know the answer: yes.

  After a while Kylian got up and offered me his hand to pull me on my feet. We stood face to face, close but not touching except for where he held my hand in his.

  “Thank you for this moment.” Neither of us moved. His gaze dropped to my mouth.

  Suddenly a drunken guy rammed into me, breaking the spell. I took my hand back, cleared my throat. “We’d better go.” And headed for the train without looking back.

  What had gotten into me to show him the hill? I had a problem to take care of and no time for either sightseeing, melodrama or slobbering all over this guy, no matter how fascinating he was. I had to get a grip.

  As soon as we were back at Pigalle I hopped out of the train. Note to self, avoid small confines, especially in combination with Kylian. I took a deep breath to get his scent out of my system and to calm down. This whole emotional yoyo thing just wasn’t me.

  It was dark now, so we went to the club. From the outside it looked like all the others along the street, promising not only music for the ears but something special for the eyes too, if not more. Most humans walking by wouldn’t even notice that something was off, but somehow, instinctively, they would avoid going there. The bouncer looked different, though. He was six-three and looked a lot like Vin Diesel, on steroids, with his shaved head. As Vin took a look at me he raised his hands, toilet lid sized, and shook his head. He had sniffed me out.

  “She’s with me,” Kylian said and after Vin took a look at him, we were in. Hmm, maybe having Kylian around wasn’t so bad after all.

  It was my first time in one of the famous shapeshifter hangouts. Even as the Patroness, or maybe because of it, I’ve never been allowed into one. Once inside we were greeted by dim light and slow rhythmic music promising sensual delights. Right what I needed. Not.

  The left wall was covered with shelves full of all sorts of alcohol and completed by an inviting zinc coated bar counter. The rest of the room was dominated by a well-worn dance floor, surrounded by several cozy looking seating corners. On the dance floor were two small platforms with strippers on top of them. Their dancing, pure sex. One of them had even changed a little, showing off her cheetah ears and tail. Right now she was moving the latter in a definitely not submissive manner between her legs.

  I followed Kylian, who was moving towards the bar. Good choice. We sat on barstools and surveyed the surroundings. A lot of skin, no weapons. Yeah, well, they didn’t exactly need them, ten razor-sharp claws and five-inch long teeth did the job too. I was glad Cutter was hidden from their view as long as it stayed sheathed. I loved magic.

  The bartender came to us and leaned over a bit, ready to take our orders. He looked positively yummy, like every shapeshifter I’ve come
across so far. “Is that some kind of admission requirement?” Did they just change the hot guys, or what? Why weren’t there any ugly shapeshifters?

  “What?” both men asked in unison.

  “Never mind. Coffee and a Calvados, please.”

  Kylian looked at me. “What beer would you recommend?”

  “Bottled or draft?”

  “Bottled.”

  After a little thinking, I ordered a Breton beer for him. The bartender nodded and prepared our drinks, his moves quick and automatic. In the meantime I looked around again. The place was already crowded, on the dance floor near naked bodies were sinfully moving against each other, getting carried away in a wave of lust. Expressions of pure delight and wicked desire spreading across their faces.

  I felt Kylian watching me intently. “You’ve never been to a shapeshifter hangout, right?”

  “I’ve never had the privilege, no.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Did I like it? Let me think. I was a woman who’d gone without sex for over a year now, in a club bursting with sex and a guy at my side who constantly brought my hormones up to their boiling point. I liked being here probably as much as a recovering alcoholic being in a liquor store.

  I ignored his question. “To be honest, I hadn’t expected this. Shapeshifters claim themselves to be always in control and disciplined, so I’m kinda surprised to see them all so…loose.”

  He chuckled. “Well, that’s why we generally don’t allow outsiders to hang out here. We need to preserve our reputation. But, deep down we’re half animals, and we do accumulate aggressions and emotions that need an outlet. Fighting or…” he motioned with his head to the side of the floor. On one of the silk covered tables a woman was having a really good time with two men. I swallowed.