Phantom Moon

by Gaja J. Kos

  Despite the amount of exhaust fumes not even Munich’s traffic limitations could successfully curb, I picked up on the alluring aroma of my mom’s cooking before I even reached the proper street. Much to my surprise, however, I wasn’t the only Freundenberger with my nose in the air.

  Pablo came barreling down the sidewalk as if he’d locked on my scent despite me being downwind. Probably had, too. A single gust, a single, flimsy trace was all the kid needed to track, which was as scary as it was awesome. I made a mental reminder to keep him firmly away from ICRA’s prying eyes until he was old enough to make his own choices in life. Fourteen wasn’t it.

  He drew me into a crushing hug, his wavy black hair tickling my nose as he held me even tighter.

  “Hey there, kid,” I said when he released me, though the words seemed kind of comical when Pablo was well on his way to beating me in the height department. Actually…

  I took a step back and took him in. “I’m going to need a stepping stool soon.”

  Pablo’s smile was a handsome, winsome thing that made me thankful my parents had had practice in the form of six hormonal weres already. The youngest of my siblings might not be a Freundenberger by blood, but he was definitely one of us in every way that counted.

  The scratch beneath his eye and the ghostly trace of a bruise on his temple hinted he wasn’t missing out on the Freundenberger knack for getting into trouble, either.

  I poked the bruise with a finger. “Ordained fight?”

  Pablo batted my hand away and scowled, but not before I noticed the flicker of guilt in his eyes.

  I snorted. “You know what? Don’t even answer that.”

  Cue the return of the winsome grin.

  “We had a little celebration on the last day of training,” he said and started walking towards the house.

  Crap. I hurried up to his side. How did I manage to forget that?

  Ending your werewolf training was a big fucking deal. It not only meant you could officially join a pack, but it also signified you were ready for the world. Translated into human terms, it was like becoming an adult. Pablo, thanks to his skills, wrapped the entire thing up a year sooner than normal.

  “Wasn’t that supposed to be next week?” I asked.

  He gave me a good-natured look that said I could stop bullshitting.

  “Anyway”—he held open the fence door for me—“we decided to give ourselves our own graduation party before we spread out into different packs.”

  “Nothing like beer and violence,” Greta drawled. She was leaning against Morozov’s Jeep Wrangler parked on the driveway, her red hair aflame in the sunlight the birches lining the street didn’t quite block.

  Pablo bumped fists with her, then, after a quick flick of Greta’s eyes in that direction, headed into the house.

  “Nice ride,” I commented.

  She and Demyan had finally decided to act on their attraction this spring, but I’d never seen her drive his beloved car before. Though her Harley remained my favorite, I had to admit, the Jeep was a good look on her.

  “Demyan’s on teamwork. I figured he wouldn’t miss this babe for an afternoon.” She patted the car, a wolfish smile playing across her lips. “Plus, it’s not every day the great Lotte Freundenberger begs for a ride home. How could I possibly resist taking you for a drive?”

  I snarled at her, but Greta was undeterred.

  “You certainly sounded like you could use a spin around town, and I had a feeling having you stuck behind me on my Harley wasn’t going to cut it.”

  A bitter laugh sprang from my lips. “You could be right.”

  Nothing worse than tasting freedom without truly having it.

  Greta glanced over her shoulder. “So what’s on your mind? Thought we could speak before Mom stuffs you with food to the point of unconsciousness.”

  I ran my gaze along the house’s facade, searching for any open windows words might carry through, but with this being the southern side, they were all mercifully closed to stave off the heat. No doubt why Greta chose to loiter here instead of the garden.

  A current of something indeterminable skittered down my spine. I jerked and twisted around, but there was nothing on the driveway except a few sparrows. Probably sensing my attention, they fluttered up into the birches.

  “Lotte?”

  I shook my head. This was precisely why I wanted to talk with Greta. Everything about my recent dealings with Kaatz had put me on edge. I couldn’t work the field like this.

  So I leaned my butt against the Jeep beside Greta and stretched out my legs. “I’m guessing you heard about those vamp murders?”

  “Yeah, all SAs received the notice to pass any cases immediately up the food chain. Didn’t say anything more than that, though.”

  “Really?”

  The incredulity in my voice must have shown, because Greta snorted and tossed her mane of red hair over one shoulder. “I might lead the Violent Crimes division, sis, but that doesn’t mean I’m part of the inner circle.”

  Again, that crawling sensation sparked up.

  While I doubted Greta would lie to me, the entire situation stank. I get not wanting word to spread via drunken agents who couldn’t keep their voices down, but surely ICRA had enough faith in their Senior Agents’ discretion to fill them in? What could possibly be so sensitive that they didn’t even brief the head of Violent Crimes?

  “Why the interest in the murders?” Greta asked.

  I let my gaze skim the street stretching beyond the gates. A few pedestrians drifted by, their energy calm, normal. Part of a regular life I wasn’t privy to any longer. I let their passing presence fill me as I contemplated just how to broach the Berlin subject—

  “Do you sense that?” I pushed off the car and advanced down the driveway, spine tingling with alarm I couldn’t write off as nerves.

  Greta was beside me in an instant.

  She flicked out her claws and scanned the perimeter. “I’m not getting anything.”

  The crunch of gravel ceased as we both stopped, my senses trained on something that rested just beyond my field of vision.

  Not that it would have made any difference even if the line of sight were clear.

  If Greta didn’t pick up on the disturbance…

  Well, it only confirmed who the lurker was.

  A fucking demon in particle form.

  5

  A growl trickled from my lips before I could rein it in.

  How dare the asshole show up at my parents’ house? Come near my godsdamned family…

  Beside me, despite not having a clue what the threat was, Greta oozed with readiness to attack. The buzz of my sister’s predatory energy only pumped up mine and amplified my fury. I dug my fingernails into my palms.

  A damn explosive with a too-short fuse, that’s what I was.

  Undoubtedly sensing the volatile thunder rumbling beneath my skin, Greta flicked her gaze to me in a silent question.

  Attack?

  Everything in me screamed to say yes. The urge to force the demon’s atoms into corporeal form and then tear into solid flesh coursed through my veins like wildfire. But would it be worth it?

  Or was I just looking for an outlet to release all the pent-up shit that had been accumulating for the past five months? The pent-up shit these last two days had only made it that much worse…

  The demon’s energy signature remained a constant across the street.

  I spun on my heel and marched in the other direction.

  Greta’s surprise swirled through the air, and while I hated leaving her like that, it wasn’t until I crossed into the embrace of fragrant greenery that was my parents’ backyard that I allowed myself to stop.

  Demon fire still crooned to be released, but with the serenity of my immediate surroundings calming my inner wolf, the drive became one I could control. As much as it annoyed me that I even had to.

  “What was that all about?” Greta snapped, though while her voice was harsh, her scent the breeze b
lew my way as she approached hinted more at concern than annoyance.

  She strode across the neatly trimmed grass and crossed her arms, pinning me with an unrelenting look.

  I waved a hand. “Demon stalker.”

  “Demon stalker,” my sister repeated dryly, eyebrows arched high. “Right, because there’s nothing out of the ordinary about having a demon stalker. Lotte, shit, if Afanasiy is creeping on you, I’ll more than gladly hang him by the balls.”

  I couldn’t help it—I barked out a laugh. “Trust me, he’d rather poke out his eyeballs—honorably, of course—than come anywhere near me. But thanks for the offer.”

  For the visual, too, though I kept that to myself.

  Greta might have diffused my tense state without even trying, but she wasn’t in the clear just yet. The indisputable fact that all of us Freundenbergers were naturally drawn to danger didn’t possess the strength to erase her protectiveness.

  “If it’s not Afanasiy, then who?” A hint of claws transformed the tips of Greta’s fingernails. “And why do I get the feeling this has been going on for a while?”

  I swatted away a fly determined to sit on my head and glanced at the small bench beside the blooming rosebushes. If we were about to have this conversation, sitting down seemed like a damn good idea.

  “It’s been an on and off occurrence,” I explained when Greta joined me. A faint melody comprised of plates and pots and Pablo exchanging chatter with our parents drifted through the patio doors, but I was just a bit beyond caring if anyone eavesdropped on the conversation. “I’m a werewolf turned demon. One who caught the interest of a demon lord. I’m not really surprised someone pops in from the Shadow World every now and then. It’s just getting on my nerves, that’s all.”

  Especially when it’s my family, too, they’re snooping. Up until now, this shit had only happened when I was alone.

  A frown formed between my sister’s brows. “Why not confront them?”

  “They fled the first two times.” I shrugged. “Seemed like a bother afterwards since they never really do anything. The energy I pick up on isn’t threatening. Ominous, yes, but not the kind that suggests an active threat.” Greta’s frown only deepened, but I went on. “We’ll see if Berlin gives me a reprieve.”

  “Berlin?”

  I stood up and brushed the back of my shorts before turning to Greta. “The Superintendent General assigned me to the vamp case.”

  If Greta’s surge of protectiveness were a tangible thing, I was pretty sure I’d be knocked on my ass and chained to the spot right about now. Her claws scraped the bench as she rose, every inch a team leader who didn’t like the higher-ups fucking with her people. I might not be part of the Violent Crimes division, but that was a negligible fact right now.

  “I’ll be all right.” I reached out and snagged her clawed hand. “But if you do hear anything about the case, anything at all, let me know, yeah?”

  After all, with ICRA’s knack for keeping their own agents in the dark, I didn’t believe for a second they would be straightforward with someone of my status, lead agent or not. Any advantage I could get, even if it was merely rumors, was something I couldn’t afford to pass up.

  Slowly, Greta retracted her claws. “I will.”

  An unmarked black car, similar to the one that had driven me to the airport, picked me up once I landed in Berlin. One of the agents, a suntanned warlock with lush strawberry blond hair and green eyes, who introduced himself as Finn Gerdel, took care of my luggage while Gina Brent, a tall werewolf with tawny skin and hair twists, handed me a folder with all necessary info about my hotel, the local ICRA HQ, how to get there, and some general Berlin tips. They even threw in a few recommendations for restaurants I could use the included ICRA credit card for. The treatment definitely fitted someone way higher up the ladder than an agent with less than a year of experience under her belt, but as we drove off towards Berlin’s Mitte and I checked the contents in more detail, I truly wasn’t complaining.

  If the only thing I had to expend my energy on was the case, that was fine with me.

  We merged with the local traffic that was nearly overrun with Berlin’s beige Mercedes taxis. I huffed out a quiet laugh. Some things never changed. And this was one not even the War had touched.

  I rested my head against the window and let my gaze wander. How many times had it been Rosalie and me on those back seats, blissfully out of the media’s spotlight and eager to share a couple of beers?

  My backpack vibrated against my legs as my phone pinged. I fished it out, perhaps just a bit grateful for the distraction.

  While I’d dealt with my grief in the months following Rosalie’s death, thinking of my late friend nonetheless hurt.

  I doubted it would ever stop.

  After I checked to make sure the two agents sitting up front hadn’t picked up on the shift in my mood, I let loose a steadying breath and glanced at my phone. Alec’s text floated on the screen.

  Going out with Jaxon. Will go through with The Talk.

  I snickered and typed back, I expect a full report tomorrow.

  His answer was a cheeky smiley face that gave me hope their date would turn out all right.

  I stuffed my phone in my backpack, then bent the folder Gina had given me in half and put it in there as well. Popular rock music streamed from the speakers as Finn tinkered with the station, and I leaned back in the leather seat to drink in the sights.

  There was something infinitely comforting in watching the buildings bathed in the dying sunlight roll by.

  Maybe because all of this felt so much like my past life that I, for a moment at least, forgot I wasn’t here to play—despite the tennis bag crammed with all the necessities I decided to drag along with me.

  Maybe it was simply my continuous acceptance of the changes that had reshaped my life.

  But one thing was certain. Regardless of the shit I sensed coming my way, I was…

  I was glad to be here.

  My alarm yanked me from the depths of sleep at six a.m. sharp. The utter darkness of the room threatened to drag me right back under as soon as I tapped the phone’s screen, so I slapped the switch beside the bed to shock myself into wakefulness with the burst of harsh artificial light.

  As I rolled onto my back, I gave the heavy wine-red curtains blocking the windows—and the morning beyond—the stink eye. Thanks to the thick fabric that draped all the way down to the floor, even the air was stuffy. But sleep would have been impossible any other way with the building on the opposite end of the street lit up like the Brandenburger Tor on steroids. Yes, the architecture was lovely, retaining all its pre-War spirit, but that was no excuse to go overboard.

  Much like my less than satisfactory night was no excuse to loiter under the covers.

  I threw off the thin duvet and sat on the edge of the bed. The hotel’s telephone on the stand beside the modern lamp was an invitation I couldn’t refuse. I dialed reception, then croaked my order for breakfast. Since the hotel catered mostly to businessmen of all kinds, their offers were tailored to the needs of early risers—mainly early risers who didn’t have time to chitchat down in the breakfast room. Given how time was slipping through my fingers with every lengthy blink of my sleep-heavy eyes, that latter group included me, too.

  With minutes to burn—and after a quick struggle with the drapes—I jumped into the small but functional bathroom to do all the necessary morning evil, then padded back into the room on bare feet and pulled on some clothes. Business casual in July wasn’t the easiest feat to achieve. The temperatures were supposed to hit well over thirty degrees Celsius by noon, and I had no idea how long my seven a.m. meeting would last, let alone where I’d end up afterwards. I eyed my thin, stretchy dark blue jeans with an abundance of holes in them.

  The business would have to give the casual aspect some more space.

  I matched the pants with a lightweight white tee and airy snickers just as breakfast came knocking. To say that I wolfed down the tomato to
asts would be an understatement.

  Fifteen minutes later, give or take a few, I was out on the street, my hair tied in a high ponytail and a touch of makeup on my face to balance out the casual outfit. I grabbed a coffee to go from the first shop that smelled like it carried the good stuff, then hurried down the wide sidewalk that could, thankfully, accommodate the early crowd with room to spare.

  Still, I was glad when I left the main street with its modern, hulking structures behind and cut a path alongside the Spree River.

  With the level of noise dropping to a more pleasant volume, I pulled my phone from my black messenger bag and called Alec. Date or not, he needed to be on his way to the Zentrum right about now. Perfect opportunity to get the deets.

  “Aren’t we impatient?” he drawled.

  I grinned and skirted around a teenage couple who was apparently dead set on cramming a serious make out session into their schedule before school. “Just looking out for my favorite wolf.”

  “As if.” Alec snorted, though I could tell he knew that while I’d delivered the statement with a healthy dose of humor, I’d meant it, too. “Then I guess you’ll be happy to hear that Jaxon and I have another date lined up.”

  A highly un-werewolf-like squeal escaped my lips. “Alec, that’s amazing!”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” I could practically hear his grin through the line. “I told Jaxon everything and he understood. He shared a few things from his own past that convinced me he wasn’t just giving me empty reassurances.”

  While I seriously doubted Jaxon was the kind of vamp to do the latter at all, it was important for Alec to believe so himself. Whether that was some quality thinking on Jaxon’s part or just pure luck, I was happy he’d decided to open up about his past. If his exes were anything like Aaron, who’d followed him here from Australia and probably wouldn’t have ceased harassing him if he hadn’t ended up in handcuffs, shit couldn’t have been easy for the vamp.