Full Moon Rising

by Lorie O'Clare

  Beth glanced up at her housekeeper who disappeared into the other room. Looking back at her inbox, she hoped all was well with her mother.

  A mixture of e-mail from work and friends downloaded. It seemed everyone was having a Halloween party. She would probably have to send Alicia out to buy candy. What would the townsfolk think if they learned their most prominent citizen was actually a werewolf? Surely they wouldn’t let their precious children come out in hordes to trick or treat her house if they discovered that well kept secret.

  Not to mention the fact that she was a closet pervert, too. Her body tingled with memories of fucking herself the night before. Maybe she could sneak upstairs before work and use her favorite vibrator for a quickie. She almost laughed out loud. What a lost cause she was.

  Her cell phone rang, ruining that wonderful idea all to hell. This wasn’t her house phone, or her business line, but her personal number that was seldom called unless some emergency had just come up.

  Glancing at the phone, her heart stopped when she recognized the area code where her mother now lived. She looked at the message from her mother. No. It wasn’t the same number. What the hell…

  “Hello,” she said, trepidation creeping through her.

  “Is this Elizabeth Parks?”

  She didn’t recognize the woman’s voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes. How may I help you?” She took a drink of her coffee, the hot brew bubbling its way down to her stomach.

  “You don’t know me, but I’m in your mother’s pack. She is with the pack doctor now. I think she needs you.”

  Beth was still talking on her cell phone when she boarded the plane an hour later. It was impossible to just drop everything and leave town, yet that was what she was doing.

  “Just make the calls I’ve told you to make,” she instructed her secretary, nodding to the stewardess who gestured to her seat in first class. “Tell them what I’ve told you to say. If they have questions, write them down and call me back.”

  She sighed, a headache coming on. Her mother had collapsed, no further information offered. The pack was still getting settled, and Beth just knew all of it had taken its toll on the older bitch. Maybe she should hire a companion for her mother, someone to keep an eye on her. Leaving town like this had thrown her pack into an uproar. Her cell phone rang again. This time her pack leader’s number appeared on the screen.

  “What about the Halloween party we have planned for all of the cubs?” the queen bitch asked. “We had planned to have it in the party room out at your house.”

  Beth sighed, knowing Alicia must have committed the room. “You may still use the room. Let Alicia know what you need. She can charge everything to my account.”

  She was on the phone with her office for the third time when she walked into the small terminal an hour later. A college-age werewolf held a sign with her name on it, and she gripped her overnight bag, listening to her secretary on the line, while nodding her greetings to the young werewolf.

  Beth clutched her bag on her lap, feeling the roundness of her two favorite dildos through the soft leather. She was living proof that a woman could be addicted to sex yet hardly ever have the good fortune of actually being with a man.

  “Is this all there is to this town?” She sat in the front seat of the old station wagon, while the werewolf drove a little too fast through a very quiet downtown. “And the speed limit is fifteen miles per hour.”

  He gave her a show of irritation before applying the brakes. “The shops don’t open until noon, not that the pack frequents any of them.”

  “Why is that?” She looked out her window, the stores seeming decent enough, just quaint, the small-town atmosphere giving the downtown a picturesque feel to it.

  “Because humans don’t like werewolves.” He made it sound like he thought her from the dark ages or something.

  She turned to stare at him. “And why is it that this town knows about your pack?”

  No wonder her mother had collapsed if the pack leader couldn’t provide a decent home for the dens. Obviously she would have to have a talk with the local pack leader.

  “Where have you been, lady?” The pup turned and gave her a look of disbelief. “When that human, Christopher Hordan, got arrested for all of those murders, he announced to the media the location of all the packs he knew.”

  “And your pack leader didn’t have the sense to dispute any local challenges, or contact Werewolf Affairs if he couldn’t handle the matter on his own?” Which obviously he couldn’t, if what this pup told her was true.

  The young werewolf glared at her, bringing the station wagon to a quick stop. He pointed out her window. “That is where our pack healer lives. Your mother is in there.”

  He immediately turned up the radio, an annoying song bombarding the inside of the car. Without another word to her, or look, he began drumming with his fingers on the steering wheel, intentionally ignoring her.

  Her ride took off before she could even shut the passenger door. Obviously she needed to contact Lacey about getting her a rental car.

  “Oh my.” Sandra Parks almost leapt off of the couch when Beth entered the small house. “Beth. You’ve come home.”

  The sight of her mother’s eyes welling with tears brought emotions to a head inside Beth. She embraced her mother, holding on tight while she fought back the urge to cry like a child.

  “Of course. I came as soon as I got news you were sick.” Beth took a step backwards, holding her mother at arm’s length, studying her. “You don’t look sick.”

  In fact, her mother had never looked better. She’d inherited her stubby body from her mother, although she always thought her mother got the better end of the deal. The woman looked slim, jeans and a sweatshirt giving her a casual air. Although her hair was no longer the same color as Beth’s, the streaks of gray running through it gave her dignity. Remnants of a rose scented perfume and soap filled the air around her mom. Beth narrowed her gaze on the older woman.

  “You’re supposed to be sick.”

  Her mother waved her hand in the air. “I believe you were told the truth. I collapsed.”

  “I thought you needed me here.” When she thought of all of the schedules she had turned upside down in order to make this trip…she put her hands on her hips. “Do you realize my schedule?”

  She hadn’t seen her mother in over two years. Her work just hadn’t allowed her time to visit. And the crushed look her mother gave her made Beth’s heart sink. She felt like an ass.

  “Tell me why you collapsed,” she said, calming herself down, taking her hands off of her hips, and standing still, not pacing.

  Sandra turned and acknowledged a woman sitting on the couch. The older lady was thin, frail, with a body so fragile-looking her flesh seemed to wrap around her bones. She stood with more grace than Beth expected and moved silently across the room. The straight-cut dress the older bitch wore fell almost to the floor, its colorful pattern bringing out the blue in her otherwise colorless face. Smells of herbs and a hint of almond drifted around her.

  “So you are the daughter.” The older woman scanned Beth from head to toe. “She looks just like you.”

  Beth watched her mom beam. Whoever this older bitch was, her mother valued her opinion.

  “Elizabeth Parks.” Beth held out her hand, the older pack member glancing at it for only a moment before taking it in a brisk handshake. Even the woman’s strength surprised her. You simply couldn’t judge a book by its cover.

  “And I am Greta Hothmeyer,” the old bitch said. “Your mother collapsed because she didn’t know how else to get you here.”

  “Greta.” Sandra sounded shocked. “That isn’t quite true, Beth.”

  “I will make tea.” Greta released Beth’s hand, moving silently into the other room.

  Beth stared at her mom. “I’ve missed you too, Mom. But if you needed to see me so desperately, I wish you hadn’t made me believe you were sick.”

  Worry brought
out the wrinkles in her mother’s face, showing her age. “I kept having this dream,” she confessed. “We need you here. I just know you can solve everything.”

  Beth studied her mother for a moment, wondering if she exaggerated the situation, a trait her mother had displayed on more than one occasion, or if a problem really did exist. She turned when someone knocked on the door.

  Greta either didn’t hear the knock, or assumed one of them would answer. Beth looked at her mom, who was staring at the door like it would bite her. When had her mother become so skittish?

  “Would you like me to answer that?” She turned toward the doorway where Greta had disappeared and found the older lady filling a teapot with water.

  “Yes. Answer the door.” Greta didn’t look away from her task.

  Beth opened the front door and stared at a human wearing a sheriff’s uniform.

  “Are you Elizabeth Parks?” the human asked, the strong smell of onions on his breath not covering up that undeniable human smell.

  “What can I do for you, sheriff?” She glanced at the human’s nametag, noting he was just a deputy sheriff.

  “You need to come with me.” The human stepped to the side, his hand moving like he would grab his gun if she protested.

  Beth wasn’t bullied that easily. “And why is that?” she asked. “Have I committed some crime?”

  “All werewolves must be identified and printed. County law.” He sounded bored now, but she smelled the nervousness crowding around him.

  No wonder her mother had collapsed. This town…this county…was out of control. Beth narrowed her gaze on the deputy sheriff. “Unless you have arrest papers, I am not going anywhere with you. Not to mention, if you hover around this front door any longer, worrying the women in this house, I will have you charged with a harassment suit so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  The deputy sheriff looked surprised, but only for a minute. He put his hand on his gun barrel, narrowing his gaze on her. “The law is the law. All werewolves must be tagged. You may come peacefully, or I will take you by force.”

  Beth put her hands on her hips, taking a step closer so that the sheriff was forced to take a step backwards. “I suggest that you give very careful thought to your next move. Unless you have a search warrant, you may not enter this home. And unless you have arrest papers, you have no grounds to take me anywhere.”

  The deputy sheriff licked his lips, his nervousness now smelling like something akin to panic.

  “Good man.” Beth tried not to sound too condescending. “Now turn around and head back to your office. And I suggest that you let your sheriff know that if he sends his men out to harass the people of this town one more time, I will file more than just harassment charges against him and his office.” She waved her hand at him, dismissing him. “Head on out now, and do as you are told.”

  After closing the door, she turned around, half expecting the sheriff to pound on it. He didn’t. And she found herself staring at two pleased-as-punch older women.

  “I knew she could do it.” Her mother clapped her hands together and then hurried forward, hugging and kissing Beth.

  “All she’s done is light the fire,” Greta pointed out.

  And she was right. Beth studied her mother’s proud expression, her cheeks aglow with color, her eyes dancing. She looked ten years younger than she had when Beth arrived. The humans had clamped down on this pack, and the suppression was killing her mother.

  “Who is your pack leader?” Something needed to be done about this mess quickly and efficiently.

  “Ethan Masterson, dear.” Her mother beamed at her. “You remember Ethan, don’t you?”

  Beth’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. Hell yes. She remembered Ethan Masterson. The creep. And unless her mother had grown senile over the past few years, she knew damned good and well what Beth thought of him, too.

  Chapter Three

  Ethan Masterson had hoped for overtime this week. He knew the second Ralph Hipp called him that wouldn’t happen. But what he didn’t understand was the reason why Ralph had called.

  “Who said what?” he’d asked in disbelief.

  After all of his work with the humans. He found himself gaping, his jaw hanging, while he stood in the break room at the plant and listened to Ralph Hipp tell him how Sandra Parks’ daughter had mouthed off to the sheriff.

  “What did you say her name is?” He didn’t remember Sandra having any den as long as he’d been pack leader.

  Even in Duluth, before moving his pack to this larger territory, Sandra had lived by herself. Her only cub had moved away a long time ago.

  “The sheriff said her name is Elizabeth Parks.” Ralph had sounded more than irritated. He knew like no other werewolf the amount of work they had accomplished with the humans.

  There had been some rough times adjusting his pack to this small town setting, with so much open land for them to run as opposed to the city life they had before coming here. Not to mention, they had moved the other pack out of town. It had been a tough decision, and one he’d not taken lightly. Rendering a werewolf homeless was not his style. But now that they were here, he would see that they made the best of it.

  Sure it was a slow process, and suspicions and prejudice still ran strong on both sides. Now the humans knew that werewolves did exist, there was no turning back. At least not the way Ethan saw it. He would take the bull by the horns, work with his pack and with the humans, and make this community stronger for it. There had been progress. And he didn’t need a blow like this to set them back ten paces.

  Knowing the previous pack had found a good home, and that his pack would now have the freedom to live as werewolves should live made it crucial that no one ruin all the work they had accomplished.

  “Elizabeth Parks?” The name rang a bell, although he couldn’t place it.

  “She’s all over the society page, if you read that sort of thing.” Ralph wouldn’t be one to read something like that. Which meant this was worse than he thought. The rest of the pack had already heard about this and Ralph was relaying the general opinion given to him. “They say she is some hotshot lawyer.”

  “Elizabeth Parks,” Ethan said again.

  “I guess she was known as Beth Parks when she lived with her den.”

  Ethan’s stomach did a flip-flop, the steak he’d eaten earlier suddenly not sitting well.

  Even now, pulling his hog into the driveway at Greta Hothmeyer’s home, he growled at the nervous streak that ran through him. He stared at the group of cars parked around the pack healer’s home. A normally quiet street, it was apparent that the house was full of activity. Cubs ran around in the backyard, and he could hear his pack members talking inside. Five minutes in town, and little Miss Beth Parks had managed to stir things up. Not a damned thing had changed.

  On the night of Hollow’s Eve…

  While your soul dances to be free…

  Your life mate will come to thee…

  With the full moon rising.

  The age-old werewolf mating song entered his mind without bidding. He thought back to his youth, to the Halloween party he’d attended with the other teenagers in his pack. Drinking and partying in the open field, he didn’t remember who had started the chant. But one of the frisky young bitches had been blindfolded, while everyone sang the ancient mating song, and she had pulled him out of the group—and pushed him right into short, little Beth Parks.

  He remembered her being small, looking younger than the other girls. But there had been an independence about her, a strength she possessed that the other bitches in his pack hadn’t. She moved like she could take on any werewolf, and would enjoy doing it. Always unapproachable, yet alluring, she had caught his eye more than once as a cub. Yet she’d never been willing to give him the time of day.

  It had been so humiliating for him. Already feeling his oats, and having most of the young bitches in his pack at his beck and call, he remembered everyone laughing out loud when he’d seen the sta
rtled expression on Beth Parks’ face.

  “I’d rather die a virgin than spend one moment with a slut like you,” she’d yelled loud enough for everyone to hear. She’d made a sickening face while she looked him up and down. “I’d probably catch fleas.”

  Then she’d marched off, while his buddies had fallen on the ground around him in a fit of giggles. The urge to run after her, force her to see how charming he was, had warred with the urge to call out insults in return. But he’d done nothing. Always the cool one. Always the one everyone turned to, Ethan Masterson had stared after her, watching her tight little ass sway while she marched away from the group. His night had been ruined after that, not one of his buddies letting him live down the shunning.

  The hell with you, Beth Parks.

  Ethan forced the childhood memory out of his head. That had been a long time ago. They were all adults now, and although his youthful pride had been severely damaged that night, it had nothing to do with the matters at hand. He had a pack to run. And he’d been doing a damned good job of it, too. That is, up until Miss Beth Parks had stepped into the picture.

  Parking his bike, he strolled up to the house, knowing a firm hand would be needed to put everything right. Everyone turned in the living room when he entered the house. There had been no reason to knock. He was welcome in Greta’s den, and he doubted anyone inside would have heard him anyway.

  “It’s about time you got here,” he heard instantly.

  “Did you hear what she is going to do?” That question grabbed his attention.

  “We’ll go down in history.” The pride in that exclamation had him looking around to see who said it.

  “Ethan.” Ralph appeared, munching on a potato chip. “You need to get a handle on this before she takes over your pack.”

  Ralph’s quiet warning didn’t sit well. He looked at his friend. The werewolf could be old enough to have sired him. And maybe since Ethan had lost his own father when he’d been a young cub, he’d bonded easily with Ralph. Whatever the reason, the werewolf had his wits about him, and was usually a good person to bounce ideas off of.