Dark Moon Wolf

by Sarah E Stevens

  “From upstate New York.”

  “And they are both fine, with no clues as to who killed Mac and Carlos?”

  “Correct, as far as we know. I’m sure they’re investigating the scene of Carlos’ murder to find any scents of Weres or humans, especially human scents that might correlate to where they found Mac’s body, or, uh,” Eliza glanced at Erin before continuing, “or his head.”

  I unclenched my jaw. Leaning back in my seat, I broadened my attention to include all three Weres.

  “Wait a minute.” I paused to catch a fleeting thought before I lost it. “You said Mac was found about four days after he went missing. Where was he during those days? Were there any clues? Any physical traces or scents?”

  Eliza shook her head decisively. “Carlos arrived on the scene about twenty-four hours after Mac’s body was discovered, but he reported the scent trail on the body itself had been completely overwhelmed by the morgue. He said Mac smelled sterile, like chemicals or antiseptic, like a hospital. Or maybe just like the morgue.”

  A hospital. I thought about it for a minute before asking, “Tell me, how reliable is your—a Were’s—sense of smell?”

  Liam spoke first, surprising me. “Our sense of smell is comparable to a wolf’s, even in human form, about 100 times stronger than yours. It’s quite easy to pick out the scent of an individual and to differentiate between those scents, much as you can distinguish between rose and lavender. When a person wears a large amount of scented product—perfume, lotion, things like that—it’s harder to catch his or her natural scent, but even in that case Weres trained as investigators are unlikely to make a mistake. And it is absolutely impossible to miss the scent of another Were; that’s why Don Reid, the pharmacist, knew about Carson as soon as you entered his store.”

  “Does a scent linger at a scene for quite a while after the person leaves?”

  “Depends on the weather and the climate, but we can reliably identify scents for several days. Not quite like a bloodhound, though, from what I understand they can pick up scents even after 300 hours.”

  I digested the information. “Since it seems our enemies know they are dealing with Weres, do you think it’s possible they found a way to mask their scent?”

  Eliza shook her head. “I think it’s much more likely we are dealing with a larger group of people, well-coordinated and knowledgeable enough not to give us any advantage. The investigators have identified at least five distinct scents.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  Erin broke in and laid a hand on my arm. Her gaze met mine, welling with an ocean of sympathy, yet somehow still stern.

  “Julie,” she said, “these are not your enemies. You are not involved in this and you shouldn’t be involved in this. I agreed with Full when she said you had a right to know what happened to Roger, because I know he was important to you. But I do not want you—or Carson—dragged into these pack matters. I don’t want you playing ‘detective,’ sitting here and coming up with theories as if this were some…some mystery novel from your library.”

  “I’m already involved—I’ve already been dragged in. My car was forced off the highway. They threatened your house when Carson and I were here.”

  I looked around at each of them in turn, seeing faces just as serious and earnest as my own.

  “I don’t know why. I’m not sure if I’m a target or a victim of circumstance. But I do know I’m well and truly part of this, even if I’m not part of the pack.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sleep came slowly that night as my thoughts continued to whirl. After his latest wake-up, Carson somehow turned himself horizontal in bed and his little feet nudged against my side as I lay there, staring alternately at the ceiling and at the pictures of Mac across the room. In some ways, everything that happened in the last two weeks seemed like a dream. Was it really possible my son was a werewolf? That Mac had been a werewolf? That I was at this very minute the only human being in a house full of Weres? What did it mean that Weres didn’t consider themselves “human”? Was my own son so different than me? Somehow removed, though my own flesh and blood? I was a so-called dark moon wolf, one with recessive genes but no manifestation of Were-nature. Did that make me “normal”? Human? Were there any differences between me and someone who didn’t bear the Were gene? Why did I have this strange genetic legacy?

  Right then, I resolved to find an answer to that last question, as soon as these unknown enemies were dealt with. Perhaps if I traced my family tree, if I talked to other relatives, I might figure out when the Were gene was introduced to my family. I wondered if I had ancestors who were full Were or if it was it some past love affair between a member of my family and a Werewolf.

  As the house settled into utter stillness around me, I realized musing over such matters—important, but hardly relevant at this precise moment—was actually a way of diverting myself from the pressing questions keeping me awake. I needed to find out who these people were. They killed Mac, endangered the pack and my son. I needed to know why they targeted us.

  I stood up and ran my hands through my hair, yanking on the ends of my curls. Tension snaked its way down my back and I felt jittery, even though it had been decaf. I gazed down at Carson, his mouth half open, pacifier fallen onto the sheets, his little eyelids delicate and translucent as eggshell, cheeks flushed. I locked the image in my mind, but failed to feel the sense of relaxation my sweet boy usually inspired. Instead, my stomach clenched and worry flared in my gut. In mama bear fashion, I would allow nothing and no one to hurt my Carson. No matter what it took.

  As I stood there, consumed by thoughts of protecting my baby, I heard the lightest of sounds from my window—small feathery taps, nearly as muted as a moth brushing glass. I jumped up and whirled around wildly, caught my foot on the corner of the bed somehow, and went sprawling onto the carpet. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a brief image of Eliza at my window, her mouth opened in a silent O of astonishment as she watched me flail and fall.

  I lay on the ground, closing my eyes in rue. Some mama bear I was. First, I fainted when Eliza got shot. Then, I fell over my own two feet when trying to identify a potential threat. Good job, Julie. So much for being human.

  Eliza tapped again. I picked myself up and walked over to the window, hoping my dignity hadn’t been too compromised. As soon as I raised the window, Eliza whispered, “Geez, Julie, you look like a cat that just fell off a table. You know, fur ruffled, yet stalking haughtily away as if to say ‘Who, me? You must be mistaken. I meant to do that.’ ”

  “Yeah, thanks, very funny,” I grumbled.

  “Well,” Eliza’s eyes still sparkled merrily, but I saw she would drop the subject. “Are you going to let me in or what? I’m pretty sure you can just raise the screen.”

  “Don’t you want to rip it through with your fierce Werewolf strength?”

  “Ha. All right, I’m sorry about the cat jibe. Now let me in.”

  Silently, Eliza climbed through the window and—I admit—I watched her graceful movements with a teensy bit of jealousy. Drawing me as far away from Carson as possible, she sank down on the floor to sit crosslegged and beckoned me to join her.

  All teasing dropped as she leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice, “I need you to cover for me, Julie,” she said with no preamble.

  I tilted my head in invitation for her to elaborate.

  “What Erin said today—this is not your fight, you shouldn’t be involved—I have a chance now. Tomorrow morning, I want you to tell Liam and Erin you’ve decided it’s all too much and you’re returning to Oregon. No, wait, hear me out.” Eliza held up a hand to forestall my interruption. “I’ll drop by for breakfast and you can tell them your decision. Then, I’ll volunteer to come with you to Jacksonville for a while, so I can help you with Carson, and make sure you’re prepared for being the mom of a Were-baby.”

  As I opened my mouth, Eliza cut me off me once again.

  “We’ll leave together and you will
return home, but I’ll actually go to Vegas. I’m not sure who to trust right now, but I’m determined to figure out who killed Mac—and Carlos. And I don’t want the council to know my intentions.”

  Incorrectly interpreting my forthcoming objections, Eliza hurried on once again.

  “Don’t worry. I will come to Oregon as soon as I can. I’ll come and help you learn about Carson. I just need to spend some time in Las Vegas first.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that, Eliza. I’m not worried about going back to Oregon alone, because I’m not going. I’m coming to Vegas with you.”

  Our whispered argument was heated, but short. Eliza pointed out she, a full moon werewolf, was well-qualified to deal with whatever we might find in Vegas. She said I, on the other hand, had not quite proven myself physically capable of dealing with any violence we might encounter. I glared at her not-so-veiled reference to my unfortunate fainting and retorted Eliza would be in as much danger as I. After all, being Were hadn’t helped Mac or Carlos avoid their fate. Eliza countered that I needed to keep Carson out of harm’s way and the surest way to protect him was to return home. I said danger seemed to have no problem finding us, thanks very much, and whoever was responsible could hunt us down in sleepy little Jackson county. Plus, in Oregon we wouldn’t have the pack to protect us. Besides, I claimed, if Carson was part of the pack, then as his mother I was, by default, responsible for protecting the pack in any way possible. Eliza said I didn’t have any idea what I was getting myself into, but I retorted angrily that she didn’t either. The pack had never been threatened like this before. Not by some rogue wolf, but by some seemingly organized group of humans who nonetheless knew the Weres’ vulnerabilities. None of us knew exactly what it meant. We reached a standoff, staring at each other angrily with a common bond of stubbornness.

  “Julie,” Eliza said. “Don’t you understand? I’m not sure I can protect you and Carson, and I’m not sure how I’ll live with myself if what happened to Mac happens to the two of you.”

  “Eliza,” I said, proud to hear my voice steady. “If Carson and I end up beheaded on the streets of Las Vegas,” I inwardly squelched the vision that arose inside my head, “it will be through no fault of yours. I’m willing to take this risk. I feel compelled to help, regardless of the danger, regardless of the fact that, yes, I’m a mere human. Those beasts—sorry—those people killed Mac. They killed my Mac. They took him away from me and from Carson forever. I may not be as physically strong as you. I may not be used to this type of intrigue and violence and danger. But, hell, I’ve read my share of Agatha Christie. I think if these enemies are not Were and they expect only Weres to come after them, then perhaps I might actually have some type of strange advantage in this whole situation. I need to go with you. Carson won’t be safe until we’ve figured this out. Like you, I’m not sure I trust anyone else to do it. Except you. I do trust you.”

  Eliza sank back on her haunches and captured my gaze for several long minutes. Finally, she sighed deeply and turned her gaze across the room. She rose in a fluid motion and moved lightly across the room to stand in front of those three pictures. Her fingers traced across the frames slowly, ending on that picture of herself, that younger self. She turned toward me and nodded, her lips narrowed with determination.

  “All right,” she said, crossing the room to join me. “How are we going to pull this off?”

  ****

  The next morning dawned way too early after a kibitzing session that lasted half the night. The other half of the night, Carson had been restless and half awake.

  Coffee. Coffee would help. At least Eliza and I had a plan. A plan I might be able to carry off. If I had some coffee first.

  Such were the rudimentary thoughts I was able to form as I stepped quickly into the shower, leaving Carson happily kicking on a folded blanket on the bathroom floor. I toweled off briefly, stepped into some clothes, and stumbled downstairs

  Returning my greeting, Erin held her arms up for Carson and I handed him off on my way to the coffee pot. I took a large sip, winced as it semi-scalded my mouth, and dropped into a chair beside her.

  “Long night? I think I heard Carson once or twice.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Erin. I hope he didn’t wake you up.” And I hope you didn’t hear Eliza scaling the side of your house.

  “No, it’s fine.” Erin bounced Carson and he squealed, waving his chubby fists in the air.

  “Have you started him on cereal yet?” she asked, smiling in delight as he continued his cooing.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Oh!” She shook her head in surprise. “We used to give them cereal almost right away, sometimes even in their bottles.”

  “Yes, that’s what my mom said, too.”

  Our chatter turned to the topic of my parents, with Erin asking how they felt about being grandparents, if they saw Carson often, what they did, etc. Me, I wanted to know which of my parents was part Werewolf, but I didn’t have the answer to that question. I poured another mug of coffee, finally beginning to feel almost human—a phrase that took on new meaning these days. Liam came in from outside, where he’d apparently been doing some sort of Wyoming-like outdoor chore. While I drank my third cup of morning glory, Ian and his friend Dave finally slouched downstairs and joined us.

  They each poured what looked like half a box of cereal into their bowls, added a gallon or so of milk, and buried themselves in eating. I marveled a bit, wondering if this was normal adolescent-boy-hollow-leg appetite or if my grocery bill was in for an even bigger shock once I was supporting a teenaged Werewolf. Perhaps I should stock up on kibble, I thought, my mouth quirking slightly. Dave looked up at me sharply, as if aware of my focused attention, and I spoke to hide my amusement.

  “So, did you guys sleep well?”

  Ian shrugged. Dave elbowed him, causing a spoonful of cereal to slop onto the floor, and said, “Hard to sleep with this one snoring.”

  “I do not snore.” Ian shouldered his friend.

  “Yeah, maybe you weren’t snoring,” Dave said, “maybe you snuffle in your sleep, dreaming about chasing rabbits.”

  With a yelp, Ian pounced on his friend, knocking his chair sprawling. They jostled a bit, ignoring Erin until she raised her voice sharply.

  “I said that’s enough, boys! Take it outside if you’re going to horse around.”

  As the boys settled into a truce and started back into their cereal, a knock sounded on the kitchen door and Eliza poked her head inside.

  “Morning, everyone. I thought I’d check in and see how everyone’s doing. Especially you, Julie, after all the commotion and revelations of last night.”

  “Well,” I started, after the general good mornings had been exchanged and Eliza settled in at the table with her own cup of coffee. “I’m kind of glad you’re here, actually, because I’ve been thinking.”

  Ian continued to shovel cereal into his mouth, but Dave paused, spoon raised, looking at me intently.

  “That is…Liam, did the garage say when my car would be ready?” I didn’t have to feign awkwardness.

  “Tomorrow.” His voice held a note of query.

  “When the car is ready to go, I think Carson and I should head back to Jacksonville.” I continued in a rush to stave off objection. “I know I still have a lot to learn about parenting a Werewolf, but I also think it’s just too dangerous here for Carson. I don’t want to put him at risk. So, until we know what’s going on, I think my first course of action needs to be protecting him and the best way to do that is for us to just go home. We’ll visit again, definitely, and maybe longer next time. You’re always welcome to visit us in Oregon. But what Erin said yesterday—this isn’t my fight, so I shouldn’t be involved—well, I couldn’t sleep last night. I was so worried about Carson and about everything. I thought a lot about it and returning to Oregon seems best.”

  Erin’s face creased in understanding and she reached out to squeeze my hand. Ian looked disinterested, feigned or real. Liam’s
mouth was set grimly and, after a moment, he nodded in agreement with my speech.

  “Julie?” Eliza said. “Maybe I should come with you?”

  The MacGregors looked at her, startled by the suggestion.

  Sounding slightly hesitant, she continued, “If you’d have me for a while, I think I could be really helpful. I’m a full, Carson’s a full, and I could teach you a lot about what that means. Plus, I’d be there for protection, just in case.”

  “Wow.” I pretended to think for a minute and then injected warmth into my voice. “Eliza, that would be great. I’d be happy to have the company and, I admit, I feel a little jittery right now. Having you around would ease my mind.” We smiled at each other across the table.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” said Erin. “Why don’t you call the Full, Eliza, and see if she agrees?”

  Ten minutes later, we’d made all the arrangements. Lily happily gave permission for Eliza to accompany me to Oregon, to protect me, and to brief me on Pack Rules and Werewolf Life 101. Liam called the garage and confirmed they still anticipated my poor old car would be shipshape—well, carshape—by the next afternoon. Erin soaked up grandma time with Carson and, although I knew she would be sad to see us go, I also sensed her relief we’d be out of danger. Me, I pushed aside guilt over this ruse, eager to get to Las Vegas and dig up any further information on who had killed Mac and who threatened these people—these Weres—who had so quickly grown important to me. We’d be very careful, I reassured myself whenever I felt a chill of fear snake through my mind. Ian acted as if none of this had much to do with him and Dave made his exit, presumably returning to his own house where the cereal box might not be empty.

  Or maybe it was. I wondered what life was like at Dave’s house.

  ****

  I wanted to do—needed to do—one more thing before I left Greybull. After a quiet morning at the MacGregor’s house, a morning when Carson actually settled nicely for an hour-and-a-half long nap, just like the baby books said he should, I broached the subject.