Fatal Moon

by L. E. Perry

  “Just getting back from a little jaunt,” Carl answered.

  “Well,” she smiled, “I've been cooped up in the house all morning. I think I need to go for a walk."

  Jordan nodded and watched her swift departure through the front door. He went into the den, where Carl was typing notes into the computer.

  "Too bad I don't have a vision chart. I believe I’m twenty-twenty right now, but I'd like to check. Tell me, can you read this?" Carl got up and placed a magazine on the windowsill, then backed off. "I mean the third line, there to the left."

  Jordan stood next to him. "Yes."

  "How about below, under the picture?"

  "Mmm, it looks like… something about… bacteria?"

  "Hmm. What's your vision Jordan? Is it twenty-twenty?"

  "Last I checked."

  After a moment Carl asked, "Where's Diana?"

  "She left."

  "She left… really… " Carl tapped his fingers against his elbows. "Jordan, do you think… is it possible she's… a werewolf?"

  Jordan eased into the chair next to Carl's at the computer. "That seems pretty unlikely. She’s a real estate developer, and she's also a werewolf who coincidentally ends up here? I doubt it. What makes you think so?"

  "There’s something about her that’s off. I’m trying to place it. It alarms me, but maybe it’s just that I’m recognizing my own kind. It's nothing I can put my finger on, but I thought maybe I was picking up on something."

  “And there’s been a female wolf when you wake up—"

  “After I’ve changed back. So… if she were that werewolf, she should have changed back by then as well. If she’s a werewolf, she’s not that wolf. Unless, somehow the curse plays out differently in different people… I hadn’t thought of that… What would that mean?” Carl started pacing.

  Jordan found that thought extremely disturbing. If what little they knew about this virus, or whatever it was, only applied to Carl, then they would have no clue what to expect from any other werewolf they might run into. “I’ll keep an eye on her, see how she responds to other things that affect you. Maybe there’s something that will give us a clue. If she’s a werewolf like you, she shouldn't be able to open the silver-plated door handles by herself, too, and she's had no problem with that."

  Carl nodded. "And she's not much of a meat-eater, though she goes through a lot of carbs." Carl sat down in his chair and began to enter these facts on the computer's notepad.

  Carl paused, his hands perched over the keyboard, then stood up and started pacing back and forth again. "What if these specific traits are unique to me? We have only a sample size of one. That hardly counts as useful data in the scientific community. We're assuming all werewolves are identical to me. But a virus that kills its host is an unsuccessful one, evolution favors a non-lethal parasitic relationship. Perhaps I’m the rare failure, and other werewolves have a different set of symptoms."

  "Still, if she’s part wolf, wouldn't Daisy be afraid of her?"

  "That's it!" Carl said excitedly. "Get her in the stall with the horse. If Daisy throws a fit, we'll have reason to confront her."

  "And if not?" Jordan asked.

  Carl stopped pacing and frowned, one hand in his back pocket and the other on his chin. "It won’t be conclusive. You can’t prove a negative.” He paced back and forth several times, then said, more quietly, “If she's not a werewolf, maybe she’s one of those demon hunters. We'll have to make sure we don't reveal my identity."

  "Oh, Christ, Carl!" Jordan exploded. "You mean her ruse may be that she's here to kill you?"

  "Or exorcise me," Carl continued dispassionately. "Not that there’s much difference, from what I hear." Carl kept pacing.

  "How can you let her stay in this house if she's here to kill you?"

  Carl grimaced. "We don't know that’s what she is. More likely than not she's just checking up on me for my father's sake."

  "Hardly a pure motive."

  Carl shrugged. "He's my father. He's entitled to his concern. I just wish it didn't interfere quite so much with my research." Carl would have to tread very carefully from here on. He wanted to run, get away from her, but he couldn't leave his lab, his studies. They were more important now than ever before.

  Chapter 16 – Dealing With Diana

  Jordan heard the front door open, then close. Carl looked at him and whispered, "Go check her out, if you would. Make some sort of excuse if you have to."

  Jordan nodded and walked into the hallway. "Nice walk?"

  Diana whirled around. "I… yes. I had a nice walk."

  "Hungry?"

  "I… suppose."

  "Why don't you join me in the kitchen?"

  Diana nodded and followed him.

  In the kitchen, Jordan pulled a lemon out of the refrigerator, then opened a cupboard and pulled down some honey. He halved the lemon with one huge whack of a large knife, and Diana winced. He finally started talking without turning around. "Where did you go?"

  "Out,” she answered. “Why, were you worried?

  "No, just curious. Walks usually last longer."

  Diana leaned against the wall. "Is this an inquisition?"

  "Not unless you're hiding something." He turned around, doing his best to hide the anger that rose like a tide inside of him. "Look, Carl just went to the emergency room with a bullet wound—"

  Diana gave him a shocked look. "What? How did that happen?"

  "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, apparently. He must have been in a hunter's line of fire this morning. Fortunately, it just grazed him. Then we come back from the hospital and you just walk right out of here as if nothing happened—"

  "But he’s fine, isn’t he?" Diana's voice would have sounded forceful, if it hadn't faltered at the end.

  Jordan stared at her. "What makes you think," he said, walking toward her with the knife in his hand, "he’s perfectly fine?"

  She bridled, holding her ground. "Because you don’t seem very worried about him. You might want to keep in mind that this house does not belong to Carl. It's his father's, and I'm a guest of his father's. Carl can't make me leave, and if that makes you uncomfortable it's not my fault." She glared at him, then looked down at his hand, which still held the knife, and finally took a hesitant step backward.

  He looked down at the knife, then turned around and carefully put it down on the counter. He picked up the lemon and squeezed it into a mug.

  "You're an ungrateful houseguest."

  "I know there's something you're not telling me," she answered vehemently.

  Jordan obliterated the other half of the lemon over the mug, and muttered, "Hell, the recipe doesn't call for peel, but why not.” He squeezed some honey into the mug, then lifted the water off the stove and poured it in. He paused for a moment. "Look, Little Miss Righteous, you're keeping secrets yourself. If you're telling me you want us to tell our supposed stories before you tell yours, you can forget it. If we have secrets, we're keeping 'em." He looked at her, and saw her staring at the mug. "Are you hungry?" he asked, not recalling her earlier answer.

  She looked up at him. "Starving. This mountain air really gives me an appetite."

  He opened a drawer and pulled out an unsliced loaf of bread, paused for a moment, then handed her the knife and the bread, pointing to the breadboard on the other counter. He opened the refrigerator to pull out a plate of sliced roast beef, along with mustard and lettuce. He laid out a series of the leaves and put a squirt of mustard on each, topping them with a handful of meat, before rolling them up, and securing each with a toothpick. She sliced several large chunks of bread off the loaf. He realized the box of muesli he'd left on the table this morning was gone. The milk level was also much lower; he'd noticed when he pulled the lemon out. He wondered how she managed to eat like that and maintain a svelte figure – it had to have been four hundred calories in Muesli alone, and the day wasn't even half over yet. At the rate she was going, sh
e'd have over three thousand calories today, and she had claimed she didn't exercise. He noticed she rarely seemed to sit still, though.

  She sat down at the table where he had placed the bread. She ate several pieces before noticing his stare. She sighed. "Okay, I'll start, for the sake of diplomatic relations. I’m representing a very wealthy client who wants a cover for a retreat in an unpopulated area. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner." she placed a hand gently on his arm. “I’m just trying to earn a paycheck here, and I think I can make a deal where everyone wins.”

  Jordan concentrated on her wide blue eyes in an attempt to ignore her hand. He wondered just how much she thought she knew, and whether or not it was a bluff. He didn’t believe her cover story for a second. "I told you Carl's been shot. I think you owe me more than that."

  She looked down for a moment, then released his arm with a sigh. "Okay, fine. I think there’s something going on here that neither of you can handle." She looked back up at him, and he saw only concern now as she gazed at him, her eyes hypnotically pale against the frame of her jet-black hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  By her tone, he wasn't entirely sure whether she meant Carl's problem or what she witnessed last night in his bedroom. He released a deep breath. "Not really," he answered, to both questions. He'd seen many faces that seemed to be attached to very concerned people and had learned not to trust them. He stood for a moment, trying to decide what to ask next. He decided to organize his thoughts first and scooped whey powder into the mug, stirred it, then carried the concoction and the plate of sandwiches down to Carl.

  He took the mug, then whispered, "Learn anything more?"

  Jordan braced his hand against his thigh and leaned over, speaking quietly. "Not so far. Not done yet."

  Carl took a sip from the mug with his left hand as he stirred the contents of a dish with the glass rod in his right hand. "What is she eating?"

  "She asked for bread. This morning she ate cereal, with milk. Mostly carbs, and a whole lot of 'em."

  "Well, thanks anyway for the hot, lemony thing," Carl said absently, then looked into the mug. "Did you know there's lemon peel in it?"

  Jordan shrugged. "It's good for the immune system."

  Carl ran a hand through his hair, "Well, back to work I guess." He went back to stirring the dish.

  Jordan grabbed a sandwich off the plate and shoved it into Carl’s hand, then went back upstairs, where he found Diana on her way to the library.

  "Diana, would you care to go horse riding?"

  She looked surprised. “Hey, that would be great!"

  Jordan led her to the coat closet. "Are you gonna be warm enough?" he asked, looking at her light garb. "I suppose I could loan you a sweatshirt. You're gonna freeze in that." Something inside him said, let her freeze. He ignored it.

  "Oh no, it's no problem. I have a high metabolism."

  They went out through the back door and the wind bit into him. The stable was much warmer, insulated with stacked hay bales in the small area, so Daisy’s body heat kept it comfortable. Daisy’s nose poked out from her stall. Jordan had picked up a carrot from the box by the back door, as always. He handed it to Diana. "Hold this." He went up and rubbed Daisy’s nose. The muscular horse pushed against his chest, sniffing to find the treat. "Not the coat, Daisy. I'm gonna have to stop putting carrots in the pockets. Hey, girl, how ya feeling today?" Frisky, was the answer.

  They usually set Daisy loose in the pasture the morning after the final transformation of a cycle, and Daisy knew it was time to get going. Jordan was more concerned about Diana's presence; if she were a werewolf, Daisy would be kicking down the stall by now. So, she wasn't a werewolf. Maybe she was a hunter of werewolves.

  He reached for Daisy’s halter, unlatching the bar and lifting it out of the way so he could lead the horse out of the stall. Daisy knew there was a carrot here somewhere and started nosing Diana. "Hey! Stop that!" she laughed. "Guess she likes me."

  Jordan looked over his shoulder at her. "No, she just wants that carrot. You've fed a horse by hand before?"

  "Ever since I was five or so. I got bitten once, but it didn't stop me." She pulled the carrot out from behind her back on a flat hand, and held it up for Daisy to lip off her palm. Daisy looked her in the eye while chewing, as if committing Diana to memory. "Boy, she never forgets a carrot dispenser, does she?"

  "Never," Jordan answered. "Ever ridden an Appaloosa in the mountains?"

  "No, but I was on a mustang one time."

  "Is there supposed to be a similarity?"

  "I hope not. It was miles before I was in control," she said with a mock horrified look.

  "That’s crazy,” Jordan answered with surprise, revising his estimate of her skills. “You won't have that problem with Daisy. She's powerful but sweet. That's probably why she doesn't like Carl. But she can go vertical on steep slopes, and she’ll lunge suddenly if she needs to, so make sure you’ve got a good grip with your legs. Grab the saddle horn if you need to."

  Jordan was turned to the tackle box as Diana queried "Daisy doesn't like Carl?"

  "Not at all." Jordan unlatched the tall cupboard. "It's a real shame. She's Carl's horse.” Handing her the reins, he advised, “That's the breaks. Hold this for a second," he pulled Daisy’s head around so she could grab the halter and reached into a large locker-shaped box where he kept the saddle.

  Diana held on to Daisy, stroking her nose as the horse eyed her curiously. She watched Jordan as he put the blanket and saddle on the horse's back and slipped the reins on, then got Daisy to open her mouth for the bit. Diana drew Daisy out of the stable and stopped. She looked into Jordan's eyes. "Jordan, I'm sorry for… for last night. I… thought we could talk." she paused, as if trying to make a decision. "Was… was it really that bad?" Diana said finally, her eyes reflecting a pain he thought he'd kept hidden.

  My God, he thought, what if she actually cares? He held Daisy steady while Diana jumped up with the aid of a stirrup and answered, "My mom would still be able to walk if it weren't." When he looked up, he read shock and grief. "I… I'm sorry," he muttered, trying to recover. "I… shouldn't have laid that on you. I forget how shocking it can be to people who don’t know. Here," he said quickly, handing her the reins. She took them and looked down at Jordan. Jordan turned away to open the gate, then watched her long hair sway against her back as she headed the horse along the path, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

  Jordan went back inside the house to report Daisy’s acceptance of Diana; he didn't mention their conversation though. He tried to separate Diana's reactions toward Carl from those toward himself and the things he had said, and wondered whether it was wise to have let her leave on a horse that could carry her for miles. The clues were too tangled, he couldn't make any sense of it. He also berated himself for missing more of her reactions than he should have, in retrospect; all he knew was that Daisy hadn’t rejected her. There was a great deal more to know, and he’d missed things.

  Jordan and Diana left for town two hours later, after she’d returned and he’d put Daisy out in the pasture. He vowed to watch her more carefully while they were together, and try to get more answers.

  * * *

  Jordan dropped Diana off to do some shopping, then took the car to the Jaguar dealership, where a salesman had him shuttled to back to the mall. He decided he had better seem to loosen up with Diana for a few hours while he reassessed her, so the tedious chore of consumerism was cut by the pleasantries of conversation. He was soon able to forget the constant stress which had become his life over the past few months. He even tried an espresso – decaf mocha with nonfat milk and honey, no cream. He had begun to accept her tale about metabolism, because she swept him through the mall like a small windstorm. He had to slow her down regularly by pointing out scarves and sweaters so he could secretly stop to catch his breath. He was strong, but clearly she had the aerobic fitness advantage over him. She tried to get him to try on some wild animal
print outfits, and he shook his head with a grin. Then, she went into a crystal store to browse, and motioned him in. He backed off and waved his hands, making a bull-in-china-shop excuse. She laughed.

  He separated from her long enough to get what he needed. It was then that he noticed how little she had bought. Had the trip to town been an excuse? If so, for what? Did she meet someone while he was away?

  They decided to stop at a small outdoor bistro. It was much warmer at this lower elevation, though it was October and autumn coolness was creeping into the air. While they were eating their marinara sauce and breadsticks, he decided to come right out and ask her. "What did you need to come here for, if you don't want clothes?"

  A tormented look washed over her face and vanished. "I'm concerned about Carl," she answered.

  "Then what are you doing here?" After a full day of trying to be civil to her, he discovered he no longer held a grudge over her intrusion into his life, but he renewed his vow to keep her away from Carl and discover the depth of her secrets.

  "Hoping you can help me," she answered tentatively.

  "I'm not following you," he said as he pulled a piece of bread out of the basket in the center of the table.

  Her face drifted into a troubled expression again, and this time she didn't try to dismiss it. She looked up at him. "Do you believe… I mean, are you at all religious? Do you believe in God?"

  "I haven’t reached any conclusions on the subject," Jordan responded, carefully.

  "The devil?"

  "No," he answered.

  "Good and evil?" She asked.

  "I don't know. I’ve seen some stuff that would be hard to explain if evil didn’t exist."

  "Can you keep an open mind?" She stopped and looked into Jordan's eyes for a moment, then said quietly, "I believe that Carl is in trouble."

  Jordan felt a chill go through his body. It was so bluntly accurate that he didn't realize the two statements had no apparent connection until he reviewed what she said several times, then he shifted his gaze so that he saw her again. "And you're going to tell me that this has something to do with God… or the devil?"