Moon Bound (The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles Book 3)

by Tori Centanni

  She dug though her skirt pockets and produced a small black card, the size of a business card. It had shiny gold letters printed on it and they caught the light. I reached for it. Devon pulled it back.

  “If I give this to you, I lose a lot of business opportunities. There might be some good books on the auction block.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. But I knew I couldn’t wait until the next auction. I needed to ask around about this book, and a room full of collectors might get me a good lead. Maybe one of them had a copy, and I could even find a way to trade for it.

  Devon flipped the card around her in fingers, thinking. My breath caught in my throat.

  Finally, she said, “How about this? You pay me a hundred bucks for the card, and if there’s any ancient or rare book for auction, you buy it for me.”

  I considered. I did have a hundred dollars in cash—I’d hit the ATM on the way and cleaned out my account, afraid of finding the book I needed only to be short on money. But there was no way I could afford to buy something at a supernatural auction. I was sure those prices would be out of my range, and besides, I’d need to save what I had in case I had to buy Ellianne’s book.

  Still, I knew lying or tricking a supernatural could be super bad news.

  “I think those books will be too rich for my blood,” I admitted.

  She tapped the invitation card thoughtfully against the back of her hand. “All right. I haven’t done enough good deeds lately. A hundred bucks and any rare books you can get for me. Deal?”

  Relief washed over me.

  “Deal.” I paid her the cash and took the card, carefully putting it my jacket pocket and zipping it up to make sure the card didn’t fall out. “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You might regret ever walking into that lion’s den.”

  Chapter 3

  I didn’t dare look at the card until I was out of the market and back up on the street. I was almost afraid if I pulled it out, Devon would change her mind and chase me down to get it back. It was a little after five in the morning, so I found a coffee shop that had just opened and bought a caramel mocha before taking a seat at the back.

  Only then did I pull out the card and examine it. The black card stock was heavier than paper had any right to be. The gold embossed letters were printed in an elegant looking font. On the front it said “You’re Invited…” in giant letters. On the back it said, “O’Dare Rare Goods Auction. Admit One.” It also had an address, the date, and the time the auction started, which was ten pm tonight. I placed it carefully back into my pocket. It wasn’t even six am now, which meant I had a lot of time to kill before the auction started.

  I desperately wanted to go home and get some sleep, but I couldn’t afford to waste any time. I’d have to check the magic shop on Queen Anne. I wasn’t scheduled to work today, but I was on the schedule tomorrow, so if I could get this book thing taken care of, my life could go back to normal. Or as normal as it got these days.

  I checked my phone. No word from Michael, even though the sun would be up soon and the party had to be over. I texted him again, asking how the party went, and then finished my coffee.

  I took a bus downtown. Commuters crowded the bus stop on Third Avenue, where I had to change buses since rush hour had already started. But I squeezed onto the bus that went up Queen Anne, snagging a window seat. The bus passed Damien’s condo, where Michael lived, and I checked my phone again. The sun was finally up, but after a long night, Michael had probably gone straight to bed. Guess I’d have to get an account of the party later.

  The magic shop wasn’t on the main drag, but several blocks off of Queen Anne Avenue, the street where the yogurt shop was. The address turned out to be a house in the middle of a residential area, and there was nothing to suggest it was anything other than a residence. No signs of any kind. I double checked the address against the paper Devon had given me and took a walk around the block in case she’d been a number off, though she didn’t strike me as the sort of person who made mistakes.

  Finally, I decided to just knock and see what happened. I walked up the porch. Windows flanked the door, but they were covered by curtains, and I couldn’t see inside. I knocked.

  A moment later, a man answered. He was in his thirties with black stubble and dark skin. He wore jeans and a collared shirt. Nothing about him looked magical.

  He studied me and then said, “Yeah?”

  “Sorry, I must have the wrong house,” I said. “I was looking for a shop…”

  He examined me again and then opened the door wide. “Come on in.”

  I hesitated. I really didn’t want to go inside a random stranger’s house. But once the door was open, I could see that it wasn’t a house at all. The living room was lined with shelves and stuffed with tables that were covered in gems, charms, potions, and books. I went in.

  The whole front area was full of goods. There were double doors shut that blocked off the rest of the house. I made a beeline for the shelf of books and quickly perused the spines that had titles, pulling out the books that didn’t so I could see the front. The majority of them were recently published self-help books and books with titles like “Money Magic” and “How to Find Your Magical Center.” Only a few were old and handwritten, and none of them were the book I needed.

  My shoulders sank, though I wasn’t surprised. Devon had warned me she usually snagged the good books out of the shop. I stopped in front of a shelf of potions. One was the sickly green color of the poison that some werewolf hunters had passed off as an anti-shifting potion, and the sight of it made me feel sick. This potion was labeled “financial luck,” but the color was eerily similar, and the sight of it made me gag. I could remember the acrid smell and the terrible way its victim’s faces twisted up in death.

  “Anything I can help you find?” the man asked.

  I jumped, having forgotten he was there. Too much caffeine, too little sleep.

  “No, actually, I think I’m good.”

  I turned and left the shop. Another bust. But then, if the book was easy to find, I doubt Ellianne would have wasted her favor on it.

  That thought left me cold. What if she’d made a massive effort to locate it already? She had connections, power, and wealth I didn’t. I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  As I turned the corner, I saw a tuft of white hair out the corner of my eye. My heart raced, and I turned, expecting to see Ellianne. But instead, there was no one.

  I shook myself. Ellianne wouldn’t bother following me around, would she? What would be the point of that?

  My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my purse, hoping it was Michael ready to meet up for pancakes and vampire gossip. But it was Raff, which also sent a warm fuzzy feeling through me.

  “Where are you?” the text read.

  “On Queen Anne. Had an errand. Breakfast?” I replied.

  A moment later, he agreed, and we picked a place to meet at. I headed toward the diner. It would be easier to figure out my next move on a full stomach.

  Raff met me in front of the diner. It was a popular brunch spot, too packed to even attempt to eat at on weekends unless we wanted to stand in line for hours, but on this Wednesday morning we were seated right away. Raff wore his athletic pants and a sweatshirt, and I was still in my leggings and skirt but sans makeup, which felt strange.

  If Raff noticed, he didn’t say so.

  Instead, he smiled and said, “You look good.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling heat creep into my cheeks.

  “You were out the door early this morning,” he said mildly, with a questioning look accompanying his words.

  I wondered exactly when he’d realized I was gone. Not too early, I hoped.

  I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d put my time to good use.”

  And then, as if my body was determined to betray me, I yawned.

  Raff laughed. “Yeah, who needs sleep?”

  The waitress came to take our order. He o
rdered an egg-white omelet with a side of bacon. I ordered pancakes and eggs and a glass of orange juice, since I’d already had a massive coffee. I could feel it buzzing through my veins, pushing out the cold.

  Fear washed over me, and I wondered if Raff could see the Faerie Mark. But if so, he gave no indication. I told myself if I couldn’t see it, it was likely werewolves couldn’t. We were pretty low on the supernatural pyramid, after all.

  “Any word from Michael?” Raff asked.

  It wasn’t like him to ask about Michael or anything vampire-related, but he knew I was eager to hear from him.

  “No. Probably passed out,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Too much fun in one night.”

  “I highly doubt anything about that ‘party’ was fun.” He made finger quotes when he said “party.” “Once I’m Alpha, we’ll throw a party that will blows theirs out of the water.” He grinned.

  I shivered. I wanted Raff to be Alpha because that was what he wanted, but for some reason, it also made me nervous. Like knowing your housemate was suddenly going to become your boss or whatever. It might make things awkward between us. But I forced a smile. I’d rather have Raff than Levi any day.

  “You’re ready to challenge him, huh?” I didn’t need to specify that “him” was Levi, the Portland Alpha.

  “Yeah,” Raff said, without any hesitation. “I think I am.”

  I really hoped I had this book in the faerie’s hands on time. I wanted to be there for Raff, and if Ellianne got to send me out on another goose chase, I might have to miss it.

  “You can take him,” I said, lifting a creamer from the bowl on the table and twisting it in my fingers. “And if you lose, you can always challenge him again in a month. By then, you’ll know all of his tricks.”

  Raff’s face darkened. His brow furrowed. My heart pounded. I’d said something wrong. I hadn’t meant to imply any doubt Raff could win, I just wanted to make sure he knew I’d support him either way. Clearly, that was the wrong choice.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Charlie, I can’t lose,” Raff said, running his fingers through his blond hair. “Levi fights to the end.”

  I stared at him, not comprehending. “The end?”

  Raff looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “It’s a fight to the death.”

  His words slammed into me like an oncoming train. He had to be joking.

  “What? No one said…”

  “It’s old werewolf tradition. Challenging the Alpha means there can only be one winner. You really didn’t know?”

  “No,” I said, suddenly flailing for solid ground. “No one said anything about fighting to the death!”

  “That’s because Sasha would refuse such a challenge. She’d forfeit, and it would start a pack war,” Raff explained. “Which would result in a lot more death.”

  I shook my head. This wasn’t happening. There was no way Raff was days away from going into a gladiator arena with Levi, who was buff and had already won one such fight. I’d known the fight would be serious and the loser would probably get their butt kicked, but I hadn’t even considered that one of them would die.

  “You can’t do it,” I said finally.

  Raff laughed, but it was mirthless. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You can’t fight him. Just let him be the Alpha.”

  “Charlie, I can’t do that.” Raff’s voice was low and sad. “You know I can’t. Besides, no one in our pack wants that.”

  “No one in our pack wants you dead, either.”

  Raff let out a breath. “I don’t plan on dying.”

  The waitress brought our food, setting plates in front of us with a big smile.

  I stared down at my fluffy pancakes and scrambled eggs, stomach roiling. I pushed my chair away from the table.

  Raff held his fork aloft, his expression sad. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not hungry anymore,” I said, and rushed out of the restaurant.

  I power walked several blocks just to get away. I couldn’t look at Raff right then.

  A fight to the death? He couldn’t be freaking serious. Levi was strong and powerful. If I’d known what the challenge entailed, I definitely wouldn’t have been so quick to cheer Raff on. He had seemed surprised I didn’t know, so I didn’t think he’d withheld that important detail on purpose. But I couldn’t believe werewolves still fought to the death for the right to lead the pack. It felt so archaic, so wrong.

  This kind of thing was exactly why I’d avoided the local pack in the first place. I didn’t want to watch two men rip each other apart for some imaginary crown. And I really couldn’t handle it if Raff died for the chance at a stupid werewolf title.

  I texted Michael again, this time saying only, “Need to talk. Let me know when you can.” But it was still super early, and I wasn’t expecting a reply any time soon.

  I didn’t want to go home, so I looked up every “magic” shop and rare book store in the city and then put them in order of distance. Then I headed to the first one so I could cross it off the list.

  Chapter 4

  It turned out there were a lot of so-called magic shops in the Greater Seattle Area, and more than a few used and rare bookstores. Most of the magic shops were not really the sort any supernatural person would frequent, other than maybe a witch. (I didn’t know how witch magic worked, but I did know they liked candles and crystals.) A few were actually selling Magic: The Gathering cards, but at least those were quick to cross off my list. One was a shop for stage magician supplies.

  None of the bookstores had a copy of the uber-rare and elusive Curses and Cures, either. One of the bookshop owners tried to look it up in their computer and told me that if it existed at all, there were probably fewer than ten copies.

  Great, I thought. I will never find this stupid book, and I’ll be beholden to a faerie for the rest of my life.

  By six o’clock, I’d been all over the Seattle area in cabs, busses, and ride-share cars and asked about Curses and Cures so many times the title started sounded weird. (Well, weirder.) And I still had hours to kill before the auction, which was in Bellevue.

  Just when I was going to give up and head across Lake Washington so I could loiter closer to the auction spot, Michael texted me. Raff had texted me several times, but I’d ignored him. I didn’t want to speak to him right now.

  Michael’s text was brief. “Let’s meet at Bats.”

  I texted back, agreeing. I could spend a couple hours hearing about the vampire party and whining about Raff’s suicidal decision to fight Levi before taking a car to the auction. I headed for Bats. I assumed that meant Damien was coming, too, although Michael had been dating a vampire long enough that I doubted he’d have trouble getting inside the vampire club. Heck, I’d managed to get in as a teenager just by dressing goth and rattling off facts about vampires.

  Bats was up on Capitol Hill, a few blocks north of Broadway, the main drag. It was near a local venue that hosted smaller shows and a bookstore (that did not have a copy of the book I needed; I’d already checked). I’d found Bats as a vampire-loving teenager, and it used to feel like a place of salvation. Inside, everything was dark, and all my problems seemed to melt away, because vampires were real and I was determined to become one of them.

  Of course, more mortals than vampires hung out at Bats. Most of them were unkindly called “vampire groupies.” Most had met or crossed paths with a vampire, though some—like teenage me—were hoping to meet one. But despite it being a vampire club, vampires hung out sporadically and at odd hours, and usually not for long. When they did, they weren’t usually into small talk.

  It was early for the Bats crowd, but the bar was open. The bouncer was a guy I didn’t recognize, and I regretted my lack of makeup.

  “I’m here a lot. I know Cara,” I said.

  Cara was a bartender at Bats, or had been a few years ago. To be honest, I hadn’t spent a lot of time here since I�
�d been bitten by a werewolf.

  The bouncer looked me over. At least my outfit said, “gothy young woman.” I guessed that and Cara’s name was enough, because he nodded and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating I could go inside.

  The club was pretty dead (no pun intended). A few humans sat sporadically around the room, one couple in a booth wearing makeup so white it glowed under the blacklight, with a few singles spread out around the space. No one was on the dance floor. A haunting, melodic music played at a normal volume on the speakers. Vampires have sensitive hearing, and most of them didn’t like uber-loud club music.

  Michael hadn’t arrived yet. I ordered a club soda and found an empty booth to wait in. Raff sent me yet another text asking if I was okay. I wasn’t. And it wasn’t even like I was mad. I just wasn’t ready to face the reality of what he’d agreed to do. I didn’t answer his message.

  “Hey, Charlotte.”

  I looked up to see Michael. He’d appeared in the booth in front of me as if by magic.

  I blinked. He was different. Michael’s normally pale skin had whitened a few shades, leaving it almost translucent. His eyes were brighter and his movements jerky as he pulled sunglasses down over his face. My heart froze and then restarted at a quickened pace. I licked my lips.

  “Michael?” I didn’t mean for it to be a question. He just looked so strange. “New makeup?”

  I knew it wasn’t makeup. But it was like my brain didn’t want to accept the truth. He opened his mouth and gave me a shy smile. I could see the gleaming tips of his fangs. I physically recoiled, my back pressing hard against the booth’s seat.

  Michael’s smile dropped off his face. “I wasn’t sure if I should warn you…”

  “You’re a vampire,” I said, as if saying it aloud might make me believe it.

  He nodded. The motion was too fast and he overcorrected, his head bobbing in slow motion. My pulse raced. His preternatural movements were strange and startling to my primal human brain that saw only a predator and urged me to run.