Moon Fever

by Ileandra Young

  “Proof?”

  He snarls at me. “Unlawful infection? Come on, girl.”

  He’s right. I know he is. But that’s not enough for SPEAR. We’re going to need more proof than that. The worst part is that both he and I know it.

  The conference room door opens gently. Through it steps Maury, calmer and without weapons, though still wary. He pauses at the sight of us so casually arranged, then treats me to a long, steady look.

  Sigh. “I’m working on it.”

  “Very well.” He gestures that I should continue, then sits on one of the tables nearest the door. Not close enough to block it exactly, but certainly near enough that any attempt to leave would have to go through him.

  Great.

  On my shoulder, Norma shifts but doesn’t wake, now folding her wings down across her back. Her breath hitches in tiny snoring sounds.

  Wendy snarls again and shifts his weight to the balls of his feet. “I’ve nothing more to say with him here.”

  “Wendy—”

  “I said, I have nothing more to say.”

  I glance at Maury.

  My supervisor shrugs and pulls a pair of handcuffs off a loop on his belt. These ones are duller and thicker, with additional loops to hold onto the captive’s thumbs. These are cuffs designed with werewolves in mind. No fancy partial-shift will break these. In fact, even the contact against the bare skin around the thumbs will be enough to weaken Wendy considerably. It doesn’t take much.

  “There’s only so much freedom I can give you, Danika.”

  Wow. “Danika” not “Karson.” Maury really has changed his opinion of me over the last half hour. His attitude is almost friendly.

  This, it seems, is as far as I can push.

  Wendy glares at Maury then returns his attention to me. He’s outwardly calm and docile, but I can see his fingernails darkening.

  “Don’t make me pull rank,” I whisper.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “You spoke the words. If I have to, I will. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. We’re on your side.”

  “You are.”

  “We all are.”

  Another snort.

  I sigh. So be it.

  “Wensleydale Gordan, sit down.”

  His eyes widen. The dark colour abruptly vanishes from his fingernails. Still gaping, Wendy pulls at a chair from beneath the desk and lowers himself into it.

  I hate seeing him like this. He’s a werewolf—hell, he’s a pack alpha. No human should be able to give him orders. If any members of his pack came to know about this, the negative effect on his position within the pack would be immeasurable.

  Alphas and their betas lead through strength, respect, and sometimes fear. They lead because they have a proven track record of acting in the best interest of their pack and being strong enough to make those decisions. To my knowledge, no pack alpha has ever willingly put themselves, and so their pack, in the hands of a human. Likely because if one ever did, the pack killed them long before any trace of the tale made it into the open.

  “I need to know what you know. And you will tell me.”

  “And the knock-kneed human?”

  I try not to laugh. “He’s fine. Please don’t tell me I have to vouch for him like I did for Rayne.”

  At last some of the tension eases out of Wendy’s shoulders. He laughs and allows his hands to rest on top of the table. “I’m not cruel, girl. Having you responsible for this piss-poor specimen would see you dead within the week.”

  From the corner of my eye I spy Maury open his mouth, as if to speak, then quickly think better of it.

  He’s learning.

  “So, Wendy. Why do you think you’ve been set up?”

  “Buckle in, girl. This is a crazy one.”

  Great. Because I need something else weird and stressful to fill my day.

  * * *

  Wendy’s story is brief and to the point. Unsurprisingly.

  Once convinced Maury won’t be going anywhere, he proceeds to explain as much as he knows about what has been happening among Angbec’s werewolf packs.

  A lot of it I’ve already inferred based on the notes from SPEAR, but to have the presence of a new pack confirmed by someone in the know sends an icy cold chill down my spine.

  How? Just how? Outside battle season, the magic or whatever it is that controls pack powers simply doesn’t work. Sure, packs can splinter and form new spin-offs, but there are no new powers, and the new alphas don’t have the ability to pass those powers down within the new groups.

  Wendy’s brow furrows as he talks about the injuries he’s seen on other wolves—bites that refuse to stop bleeding, gashes and slashes that remain even after a wolf has shifted through various forms and back to human. Inky black sores and pus more reminiscent of dying vampires than anything to do with werewolves.

  Oh, and the smell.

  “I can’t explain it, but any wolf out there right now knows this smell and fears it. Like death, decay, and pain all rolled into one. It’s disgusting, and worse than that, even humans can smell it. Well…good ones. Not your traditional civilian or base level agent.”

  I ignore the haughty look at Maury over that comment and hope that he has the sense to do the same.

  “But is it an organic smell or mechanical? What is it coming from?”

  “No one knows.” Wendy shrugs. “The wounds we’ve seen have traces of it around them, but mostly it seems to be coming from the countryside beyond Loup Garou territory.”

  I glance at my watch. Considering how much has already happened, I’m surprised to realize that it’s not quite eleven a.m., yet. But that’s a good thing. It means I can go out now, with Wendy, and start investigating.

  Nothing like positive action to chase away the rotten mood.

  “Okay, come on then. We may as well have a look.”

  I stand, Wendy follows, and we both make our way to the door. Norma wakes with a flutter of her wings and a bleary “Dan-dan-dan.” She turns expectantly to the door and lays her tail across the back of my neck.

  Maury greets us there, arms folded, a wry smile on his face. “Karson, really? Come on.”

  Back to “Karson” are we?

  “What?” I give him my sweetest smile.

  “You can’t honestly expect me to let you walk out of here.”

  “We could run out?”

  He frowns. “This isn’t a joke. Whatever special relationship you have with this werewolf, he was brought in under serious charges. He needs to go to holding.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Unlawful infection? Attacking and injuring SPEAR agents?”

  Behind me, Wendy opens his mouth. I stop him with a raised hand.

  “He’s already said that was self-defence.”

  “So?” Maury actually looks frustrated now. He touches my arm, not a grab like before, but a gentle, almost pleading touch. “Try to see this from where I stand. This wolf has been charged. He was brought in, and yes, you’ve questioned him, but what you’ve actually done is have a little chat about bad smells and impossible new packs. Nothing is concrete. There’s no proof. We have to act in accordance with our protocol and hold him while we investigate.”

  “But he didn’t do anything.”

  “So he says.”

  I clench my fist.

  Again Wendy stands close on my right side, his chest brushing against my arm. It’s a subtle gesture with no apparent equivalent to how true wolves act in the wild. Though if he were in his wolf form, Wendy might have his tail held low, not quite between his legs, but certainly not tall and erect. He might even try to lick the skin around my mouth and neck.

  The touch is request for solidarity and comfort, for him and for me. My choosing to maintain that physical contact tells Wendy that I, his current dominant figure, support him.

  “Just say the word, meat stick. I’ll bite his shiny bald head off.”

  I step away from his chest.

  Wendy
grunts and snaps his mouth shut.

  Whether Maury understands the quick, silent exchange or not, he does have the sense to understand a threat when he hears one. He lifts his hands, palm out. “I’m just stating facts. And if I let the pair of you walk out of here now, I’ll be facing down a riot within an hour.”

  “Fine.” Wendy returns to his previous chair. “I’ll stay.”

  I shove a finger in my ear and twist it. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said I’ll stay. On one condition.”

  Maury chuckles. “You’re not in a position to make demands, Wendy. You’re under arrest.”

  A loud snarl ripples from Wendy’s lips. “Call me that again, human, and I’ll pull your spine out through your backside. Once I’ve remove the thick stick you clearly already have wedged there.”

  Maury pales. A neat trick considering his skin tone.

  I lean close to offer a faux whisper. “I wouldn’t call him that again if I were you. Go with Wensleydale if you want to call him anything. Mr. Gordan might actually be better.”

  “But you call him—”

  “He likes me, Maury. Can’t say the same for you.”

  Silence.

  Awkward shuffling. A cleared throat.

  “Wensleydale—”

  Another snarl.

  “Mr. Gordan…you’re under arrest. This is not the time for demands.”

  “Eat shit, human.” Wendy laces his fingers in his lap. “Now…I’ll stay and act nice-nice with you SPEAR idiots if I have to. There’s too much at stake to let pride get in the way. But I’ll stay on the condition that you let Agent Karson get out there to do her job. Do that, and I’m all yours.”

  Maury considers. Once again I can all but see the cogs of his mind working. At last he sighs. “This isn’t going to work any other way, is it?”

  “No.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Both Wendy and I speak in the same moment and offer each other a small, knowing smile before looking back at Maury.

  He sighs. “I guess that ticks one item off the team meeting agenda.”

  It takes every scrap of willpower I have to keep from victory punching the air. Instead, I smile and reach out to pat my boss lightly on the shoulder. Even Norma croons a comforting string of “Nika, nika ka-ka dans” before hoping off her roost to wait patiently and expectantly near the door.

  “It’s like I said before, I can handle this. Kappa will round this up and wrap it up before the end of the week, you’ll see.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  I grin. “Come on, you mongrel. I’ll take you over to Shakka and get myself started.”

  “Mmm.” Wendy stands, patting his stomach through layers of clothing. “Been a while since I tasted goblin.”

  “He’s joking.” This I offer Maury who has turned a queer shade of green. “I promise you, he’s joking. Right, Wendy?”

  He shrugs. “Mostly.”

  With a grunt, I grab Wendy by the hand and haul him out of the room with me before we manage to upset Maury any further.

  Chapter Eight

  I don’t like this car. It’s a SPEAR vehicle, built rather like a police street car, but with further reinforcements to the back seat.

  After pushing Maury to allow Wendy to travel without restraints, I knew it would be impossible to ride in my own car. I’ve definitely reached the limit of how far I can feasibly push. In light of that, I also leave Norma behind, despite her clear agitation.

  I tell her to go home, but there’s no way of knowing for sure if she understands. The tilt of her head and slow blinks might signal obedience, or at least understanding, but I don’t get my hopes up.

  Wendy sits in the back on the passenger side, backbone straight and stiff, his hands clasped neatly in his lap. The hot rush of his breath occasionally billows against my neck, not enough to be distracting, but enough to know he is still with me. Otherwise he’s silent and still, almost invisible the same way Rayne was earlier that morning.

  Rayne.

  Just thinking her name makes my insides grow warm. I think back to her rough lips on mine, the eager hands pulling up my clothes, her tongue against my—

  “Stop it, girl.”

  I pause the car at a red light and let the engine idle. “Stop what?”

  “Thinking sexy thoughts or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. It makes you smell like…like…just stop it.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you tell me what you were holding out on back at HQ?”

  He chuckles. “You are good at your job, girl.”

  “No—well, yes, I guess, but I know you. The second we got company I knew you’d clam up. And you did. So spill. What didn’t you want Maury to hear?”

  “It’s not just me.” Wendy leans forward and hooks his fingers through the small holes in the reinforced grate separating the front seats from the back ones. “My wolf form is on a list or something. People know to look for me. And they’re also looking for my most loyal followers.”

  “Your beta?”

  “And more. You know I rarely go full wolf anymore, but your SPEAR buddies knew my exact markings, size, and colour. How could they know that unless someone described me specifically?”

  Large, black shaggy fur, yellow eyes, white left front paw.

  At long last, my discomfort about those descriptions becomes clear.

  “You’re in our report,” I mutter. “You’re right. From your markings, to your eye colour, it was you exactly. No one describes wolves that way, not even other wolves. These descriptions came from someone who knew exactly who they wanted to get rid of.”

  A last car rumbles across the junction in front of me and I coax our own vehicle to continue the route to the SPEAR holding facility.

  Wendy goes on. “So now you see. Someone doesn’t want me investigating, or they didn’t want me coming to you. Or both. I don’t know. But whatever it is, this stranger is causing trouble for me and mine and I won’t have it. The other thing I kept back is…uh.”

  I watch him through my rearview mirror. “Well?”

  He scratches his nose. “I know these new wolves.”

  “From the new pack?”

  “Yes. Not properly, but I’ve seen them and I recognize a few. Seems this new pack is building numbers from loners and banished wolves inside and out of the city. At least one of the ones I saw was from Fire Fang.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  “It’s not unheard of, but to have wolves join an unestablished pack is strange. And they’re fast. Strong. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. And violent. When they fight, they fight hard.”

  “You’ve seen battles?”

  “Heard a story or two. They’re savage, Agent, you need to understand that. They fight to the death. No mercy, no prisoners. It’s brutal.”

  “Have you ever seen another pack act this way?”

  “Not in all my years.”

  Right turn. Narrow street. Right turn.

  My thoughts gallop off ahead of me, leaving the rest to catch up. But I’m having trouble. The more I hear about this case, the more I wish I could leave it with another team. But of course, the more I hear about it, the more I understand that Kappa is best suited to handle it.

  Excluding myself, my new team is entirely edane and powerful ones at that, including a couple of werewolves. If this new pack truly is as strong as Wendy claims, then a team with less squishy members can only be a plus.

  “And why didn’t you want Maury to know?”

  “You heard him—all that talk about proof and concrete evidence. I haven’t seen these fights. I’ve only heard of them. Speculation isn’t enough, is it? Agent?”

  He’s right of course, but now I’m sitting on not second- but third-hand testimony that I can’t use. I need to see these packs in action myself, or get hold of someone else who has.

  “Where did you hear about all this?”

  “I got reports just under a week ago, all from another wolf with descriptions clearly passed a
round, by the way. Then again, it’s not hard to recognize Chalks.”

  “Chalks?”

  “Pete Dunn.”

  I’m still lost. “Dunn…Dunn…Dunn…wait. You mean the whispering midget with the bird’s nest hair?”

  Wendy chuckles. “You’ll be sorry you said that.”

  “I’ve never met him, just repeating what I heard. Anyway, why ‘Chalks’?”

  “Pure white hybrid and wolf forms. Some voted for ‘Snowy,’ but others decided that wasn’t very…PC.”

  Again my mind drifts back to the descriptions in the report that morning. Pure white. That was definitely in there.

  “And he’s loyal to you?”

  “My second.”

  The car stalls as my foot slips. It takes longer than it should to get back in gear, but I do so while gaping into my rearview mirror.

  “Dunn is your second? I thought he was a teenager. Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t have to explain my pack to you.”

  “Of course not, but the beta should be the buffer between dissenters and you. From what I hear, a stiff wind would knock him flat on his arse.”

  A quick shake of his head. “In human form, perhaps. But when changed…that wolf is bigger even than I am. Strong.”

  “As strong as you?”

  “Stronger.”

  I find that hard to believe. Size and strength aside, there’s a reason Wendy, despite his age, leads the Dire Wolves. He’s wise, powerful, and commanding, traits every alpha needs. By all accounts, Chalks has none of that.

  I round the last corner of my route and guide the car down a sloped slip road that leads to a gated entryway barely seven feet high.

  A series of blinking lights flickers to life overhead, five large dots coloured red. They wink in and out while the car is assessed and switch to green one by one.

  When the last of the five becomes green, the gate clicks free of its lock and grinds upward into a recess hidden above.

  A crackling voice issues from the speaker beyond my side window.

  “Enter and be ready to present credentials.”

  I make sure the SPEAR lanyard on my hip sits firmly in my lap and guide the car into the darkness beyond.

  * * *

  Four agents greet us when I park the car. All hold rifles and wear protective gear with reinforced fabric to protect their vitals.