Insolita Luna

by M. J. O'Shea

  “That was when he first escaped and no one knew what he was going to do. Right now, he’s too busy keeping his own skin to worry about killing you.”

  I still wasn’t buying it. “If he’s too busy trying to stay alive, why have people seen him around? You’re assuming that he’s behaving like a rational person. He might be gearing up to make his next move.”

  Xan ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me. “Even if he is, I doubt that next move will be going after you.” He sighed. “Listen, I’ll work with you on some basic fighting moves, and maybe Noah will help a little too. Your mom had a point, though. I don’t want you strutting around thinking you’re invincible after a few lessons. This guy’s a serious badass.”

  “Xan, I’m not going to go looking for a fight. I know my parents think I’m impulsive and immature, but can’t my boyfriend give me a little more credit than that?”

  “Yeah.” He looked guilty. “I’m sorry. We can start working on some defensive maneuvers tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, babe. I’ll feel better if I’m not a complete sitting duck.”

  Xan gathered me into his arms and squeezed. “You know I’m going to protect you, no matter what.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to need it quite so much.”

  “And that, right there, is what I’m scared of,” Xan muttered. “No matter how much training we manage to cram in in the next couple of weeks or even months, Komarov is a lycan and he’s hundreds of years old. Don’t think you won’t need help with him. I would too.”

  “I got it, okay?” I rolled away and pushed my face into a Xan-scented pillow. “This is freaking me out. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Can we just go to sleep?” I sighed at Xan’s hurt look. “I’m not trying to be a pain or melodramatic. Maybe I’m just tired.”

  “Okay, then. Sleep it is.” Xan opened his arms. “Come back here, though. I’m not sleeping with you way over there.”

  I didn’t want to sleep on the other side of the bed either, so I crawled back into Xan’s arms and closed my eyes.

  “I love you,” I whispered. I hated the idea of going to sleep without saying it.

  “Love you too.”

  IT WAS surprisingly easy to talk Noah into helping me train when I got back to the city. He seemed all sunshiny and sweet on the outside, for a vampire at least, but I got the distinct feeling that he liked to do things that would piss off whoever was in charge—in this case, my parents. There was a bit of hidden rebel in my pretty cousin. I liked it.

  As of that first day back, I was officially in training. We’d go up on the roof at night, Noah, Zack, Xan, and me, and we’d practice defensive moves, hits, kicks, holds, anything that would give a human a fighting chance of not getting shredded by a lycan. They even had me doing conditioning—push-ups, lunges, and kicks. Luckily, I’d already spent over a month walking up and down the stairs. My legs had never been stronger. It wasn’t enough, though. Not nearly enough. My stomach was still filled with dread.

  When Xan saw that I wanted to learn more, he showed me pressure points, places where I could hit to render the lycan somewhat immobile, and Noah showed me where a lycan was weakest, which wasn’t all that different than a regular human. I couldn’t squeeze or kick as hard as the vampires or Xan, but according to him it was all about technique. That was if I could get close enough to the bastard.

  Noah always ended the lesson with some version of “But don’t go looking for trouble on your own. I promised your parents I’d take care of you.” I guessed he wasn’t too much of a rebel. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning to hunt. I honestly wondered when he thought I’d squeeze it in. Between my classes, my friends, training, and an increasingly intense new romance, I’d have had to make a duplicate of myself if I were going to go out on any of these wild hunting expeditions that Noah warned me off of. I wasn’t going to hunt. Really. I guess it was nice that my family was so overprotective. I just wish some part of the training would ease the pit that was in my stomach. It hadn’t gone away for days.

  And Komarov was still being sighted all over the city. I would’ve felt a lot better if anyone could guess what he was planning.

  Chapter 17: Rumble in Manhattan

  WOULDN’T YOU know, when everything finally went down, despite week after week of tense wondering, the shit hit the fan like practically out of nowhere. All it took on our end was one panicked phone call to put the whole world upside down. We’d been hanging out at PC and Miles’ new place for the first time, having an unofficial housewarming party, when the phone call came. PC turned a ghastly shade of white and said, “I’m on my way.”

  The rest of us jumped up when he dropped his phone to the floor and phased into his wolf form, shredding his clothes and shoes instantly. He shot through the window and pounded down the fire escape. Just like that. World turned on end.

  “Holy hell! What happened?” I blurted. The only other time I’d seen PC take off like that, Miles had been in danger. But now he was standing safe and bewildered-looking right in front of me. Miles squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated for a few moments. Soon after, his eyelids flew open in horror.

  “The lycan council building is under attack! They’ve called out an alarm for all lycans who can get there to come fight.”

  “Who’s attacking them?”

  “PC isn’t sure. The message was all garbled. He thinks it might be… other lycans.”

  “What?” Even I knew that the lycans didn’t fight each other. Their hierarchy was so ingrained that rebellion was unheard of. Except for Komarov. Of course.

  Noah moved for the door. “C’mon, guys! They need help down there.”

  Miles held him back. “PC said for us to stay here. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “Like hell,” Noah said. “You seriously gonna let PC fight, and maybe die, without helping him?”

  “You’re right. Hell no,” Miles answered. He followed Noah out of the door at a run. Zack and the girls didn’t hesitate much longer. I barely had time to look at Colin before he was also out the door, only turning in time to bark “Stay!” at me. It felt awfully familiar.

  “Xan, what do we do?” I asked when we were the only two left in the room. “What if this is it? What if they can’t do anything because it’s me who’s supposed to take him down?”

  Xan stood quietly for a few moments. His agony was plain on his face. I could die trying to kill Komarov. I knew that as well as he did. But I also knew I’d hate myself forever if I didn’t try to kill him.

  “Xan, you know we have to do this. Let’s go.”

  We took off at a run until we found a cab that would get us there before too much collateral damage was done. Komarov’s fight—and I knew it was him; I just knew—was with the lycans. My fight was with Komarov. I didn’t want any of my friends to die just because they weren’t the ones who were supposed to take him down. I was scared, sure. Fucking terrified, to tell the truth. But the Fitzgeralds’ time had come.

  “What’s the plan?” I whispered frantically to Xan. I’d told the cabbie to gun it and planned to tip him well. We were currently speeding along 7th toward the council building. My chest was getting tighter by the second.

  “We have to find him before anyone else does. I don’t know what his final agenda is, but he’ll most likely kill anyone who gets in his path.”

  “Anyone except me.”

  “Yes, anyone except you. We hope.” Xan looked scared.

  “I thought it was my destiny to kill him. He won’t kill me before I get him.”

  “But it doesn’t say he won’t take you down with him.” I knew it, but listening to Xan say it out loud made everything so much worse. “Babe, I won’t let that happen, okay? You just be careful, and I’m going to guard you with my damn life if I need to.”

  I nodded. I was worried that if I opened my mouth to speak, I might puke instead.

  THE LYCAN council buildin
g was nearly in rubble by the time we got there—door blown off, chunks of the stairs missing. Our cabbie dumped us off at the site and got out of there as fast as he could. His tires squealed on the cold pavement as he left Xan and me in his dust. I didn’t blame him. The place looked like a war zone. Hell, it was a war zone. Clangs and growls rang out as Xan and I sprinted across the street.

  “Wait,” Xan said.

  “People could be dying in there. Our friends, my brother.”

  “I know, but we can’t just jump in and get ourselves killed too. It would be useless. We need some kind of plan.”

  “Don’t get killed?” It sounded like a plan to me.

  “Get behind me. My guess is Komarov hired help and he’s letting them do his dirty work. He seems like the sort who would step in at the last moment and take over after his stooges cleaned house.”

  “You’re right.” I didn’t know much about Komarov, but no lycan would do grunt work if he could hire someone else to do it—even other lycans. “Let’s look for an office, a conference room, somewhere he could barricade himself in and wait for the party to be over.”

  Xan handed me one of his two long blades that were halfway between a knife and a sword. He nearly always had them with him. Especially lately. I gripped the handle of the blade and gave him a sharp nod.

  “Okay. Let’s do this.” I followed Xan into the building, scanning for signs of Komarov, but also for my friends.

  We stepped through the door and checked the first floor, plowing through the wreckage of plaster, furniture, and bodies. The smell was awful, burning and ripe with death. There were just so many. It was horrifying. Every time we came on a new body, I cringed until we could tell if it was someone we knew. I was getting sicker and sicker with the stench of blood and the fear that one of the dead would be my own.

  Xan pointed to a door in the corner of the back hallway. Perfect place for a slippery instigator to hide. Xan and I crept closer. I reached out to turn the handle… and the door crashed open on its hinges.

  A gray-red blur zoomed through the opening. Of course the asshole would run. Without hesitation, Xan sped after it, moving faster than I could even see, faster than I knew it was possible for him to run. I felt like Wiley Coyote, spinning my wheels trying to catch up to them.

  I burst through the broken front door of the lycan building onto the deserted street. Where the hell is he? I scanned the street with my weak human eyes. More than anything, I wished at that moment that I had supernatural powers like my friends. Anything to make me faster, stronger, more equipped to do the job I needed to do.

  A loud crash came from across the street—a narrow alley between two buildings. Of course Xan had cornered him in a dark alley. I rolled my eyes as I picked up my pace. Jesus. My grip on the blade was slippery. Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped under my arms. I wanted the whole thing to be over.

  Do this. Now. Kill him.

  When I got to the alley, Xan had Komarov pinned up against a wall. Komarov was injured. At least, I thought he was. He’d flipped back to his human form, and Xan was holding him against the wall with what looked like only minimal effort.

  “Back off, Charlie,” Xan warned. “He’s hurt, but he’s still dangerous.”

  I adjusted my handhold on the knife. “I need to do this, Xan. It has to be done.” I stalked closer, sweat streaming down my back, heart thrashing in my chest. Just when I was nearly close enough to strike, Komarov twisted out from beneath Xan’s grip and lunged toward me.

  “No!” Xan screamed.

  I slashed my blade out and aimed right for Komarov’s midsection. He’d been moving fast, and my blade slipped sickeningly through his skin and the soft flesh beneath. It had been so easy. Too easy. Komarov grabbed the blade and ripped it out of my hand, and out of his stomach.

  He grinned. In less time than I had to realize he wasn’t dead, he pounced, wrapping his arms around me from behind. It hurt more than anything I’d ever imagined, his arms squeezing python-strong and choking. I could barely breathe. There was a sharp pain in my shoulder and I winced, trying to kick him, wiggle out of his steel grip. He was suffocating me. Stars burst in my eyes, black and scary.

  “Here, Charlie!” Xan tossed me his own knife. Komarov was stronger than me, and a powerful lycan injured or not, but he had a fatal flaw. Arrogance. Komarov was so impressed with how easily he’d bested me, how quickly he was squeezing the life from my throat, that he didn’t react. He didn’t grab for the knife before I did, didn’t even realize that I’d taken the knife and flung it over my shoulder and into his neck. Warm wetness flooded down my shirt. I knew he was hit, but I didn’t know that my last-ditch swipe had been fatal until he slid off of me into a limp pile on the pavement.

  Komarov was dead.

  Chapter 18: Wolf

  “JESUS, CHARLIE, Xan, are you guys okay?” Colin came rushing into the alley flanked by PC and Noah. Miles and Zack weren’t too far behind.

  “I’m fine,” I answered weakly. “You okay?” I whispered to Xan.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  Everyone milled around, and if they were like me, they didn’t quite know what to do. “Do we get rid of him?” I asked quietly. It seemed wrong, but something had to happen.

  “I think the council will want to decide,” PC answered. “There’ll have to be precautions.” He looked up at me. It was the first time any of us had focused on anything but Komarov’s body.

  “Oh hell. Charlie,” he said quietly.

  “What?” Everyone turned and stared at me.

  “Is that your blood or his?” Xan whispered, staring at my arm, right in the fleshy part of my shoulder. There was a stain and my sleeve was ripped. Komarov had attacked me there, I remembered, but in the heat of the moment with him and Xan, the pain had barely registered. I touched the gash. It was definitely my blood, though hard to notice when compared to the other side of my shirt, which was soaked from when Komarov’s blood had splashed all over.

  “Is it a…?”

  PC ripped open the arm of my shirt. “It’s a bite. Shallow, but there. We’re going to need to watch you for a few days.”

  “Why?”

  PC looked at me like I’d gone mental. “Because if he managed to get enough saliva into that wound, then you’re going to have a few life changes here pretty soon.”

  “Wait, you mean—”

  “We’ll have to wait and see, but there’s a chance that you’re going to become a lycan.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t dismayed at the idea, that was for sure. PC was really cool, and the thought of being able to turn into some big badass wolf after years of being cute and tiny did appeal to me, but it meant my life would totally change. Again. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for even more changes.

  “I’m calling Mom and Dad,” Colin said. He reached into his pocket for his phone. To be honest, I was a bit surprised it had made it through the battle.

  I held up my hand. “Don’t, Colin.” I was surprised by how forceful my voice sounded. “This isn’t your problem. I’ll talk to them when I’m ready to talk to them.”

  “The hell it’s not my prob—”

  “Colin. No. I’m an adult and I can deal with my own stuff now. I don’t need you tattling on me like you did when I was ten. Back off.”

  Everyone stared quietly at me for a moment. Xan’s hand came to rest on the small of my back. Colin slipped his phone back into his pocket.

  GOING BACK to college the next day was weird. I sat by Indigo and chatted with her after class. I tried to take notes and walk between the buildings and act like everything was exactly the way it had been the week before.

  It wasn’t.

  My arm was sore, a constant reminder of what had happened, and I kept waiting for that moment when I’d lose it and flip into a wolf in the middle of class or something. I felt pretty normal, though—no raging instincts, no wanting to bite someone’s head off for cutting in front of me on the walkway. I felt like myself. Unfo
rtunately so. I told that much to PC and Xan, who had been watching me carefully since the attack.

  “I don’t think I’m turning into a wolf,” I finally said to PC Monday night, when everyone was over.

  He’d kept shooting me significant looks all night, like he was trying to find wolfy clues that I was convinced weren’t there. I was let down, I mean, who wouldn’t be disappointed that they weren’t going to become one of the paranormal royals—and I’d figured out long before that royalty was exactly what the lycans were. But I was resigned to the fact that I was plain ol’ Charlie Fitzgerald, and that was fine. Plain old Charlie Fitzgerald who kept having nightmares about doing what was supposed to be his job? That wasn’t so fine.

  “You’re probably right. We should’ve seen signs by now.” PC shrugged. “It’s better that way anyway. You won’t have to deal with the politics.”

  “What politics?”

  “Oh, no worries. You don’t want to get involved with my dumb family, that’s all. Are we playing poker or what?”

  THE LYCANS were thrilled with what I’d managed to do. Even though it hadn’t been a contracted job, they handed me a fat check that far eclipsed the one I’d gotten for dealing with Silivasi. They were, of course, concerned about the potential of an accidental turning, but PC assured them I hadn’t shown any signs yet, and it had been nearly a week, after all. With any normal turning, the markers would’ve been there already.

  I tried to get back into my daily routine—class, hanging out with the group, being with Xan. It wasn’t easy. I couldn’t let go of that squelchy sound of Komarov’s blood or the way he slid down my body and breathed that last gurgling breath. Every time I closed my eyes it was there, making my stomach turn. I’d even vomited the night before. And if that didn’t hammer in the fact that I probably wasn’t ever going to be like Colin or Callum, my brawny badass hunter brothers, or even my mom who wouldn’t have hesitated before taking Komarov out, then I didn’t know what did. It sucked to be the weakest link. And it sucked that they were all right.