House of Wolves (Silver Moon Series Book 1)

by L. S. Slayford

  Thankfully, Chase had his shirt on by that point.

  Not that he wasn’t nice to look at. Hell, he was built like a stripper and possessed eyes deep enough for any woman to drown in, but she had no plans to go under. Not when she already had a boyfriend.

  Pierre was what her mother would call ‘as cute as a button’ with his baby blue eyes, blonde hair, and regal straight nose. At six-foot-tall, he boasted a swimmer’s body, lean with roped muscles beneath pale skin. She’d worked at the law firm for only three months when she’d run into him, literally, barely able to see over the towering stack of files carried in her arms. Ever the perfect gentlemen, he’d simply swept the files up and carried them to the right office for her.

  Although only a few years older than herself, something about the way he spoke, the way he conducted himself, made her feel as though he belonged to a different time. It almost seemed as if he’d been plucked out of the eighteenth century into the present day. As a lawyer, and a damned good one at that, it wasn’t unusual for his face to be lined in deep thought. But even outside the office, a kind of solemnness seemed to envelop him.

  Within a few short weeks, they’d quickly fallen into a routine; drinks with colleagues on Mondays, Fridays for movies or the theatre, and the weekends for exploring the countryside, staying at little guesthouses surrounded by rolling hills or overlooking the ocean. Frequent trips to art galleries and museums allowed Pierre’s knowledge to shine. No one could mistake the passion in his voice when he spoke of historical events. Although she knew it to be absurd, she swore he spoke as if he’d actually lived through them.

  Mind you, after seeing that thing anything is possible, she thought to herself, drawing her feet beneath her bottom.

  Dawn swept away the dark cloak of night. The sun peaked its way over the tops of the trees and streamed through the windows. Warm air caressed her skin, her body welcoming it after the chill hours earlier. They’d kept the curtains open in case the creature decided to make a reappearance.

  Thankfully it hadn’t.

  The crunch of gravel underneath tires floated on the air, whipping her head around towards the windows.

  Mentally reminding herself never to try sleeping on the bloody couch again, Luna slowly rose to her feet, her muscles aching and stiff. A creak of wood sang through the house. A few seconds later, Michael’s head popped around the door, his hair dishevelled and his chiselled face haggard. Relief flowed through her.

  “You’ve been out all night?” she asked him, unable to stifle a yawn. She stretched out her limbs, hoping to relieve some of the stiffness. It didn’t help.

  “Yes, Mom,” he replied drily, rolling his eyes and heading back into the hallway. Luna followed him into the kitchen. “Any coffee going? I could do with a whole pot right now.”

  Luna stood in the doorway. “What’s on the property apart from wolves?” she demanded, her voice low, her eyes narrowing.

  Michael didn’t respond straight away. Instead, he reached for a mug, filling it with hot coffee. The scent of roasted beans swirled on the air, mingling with her frustration. Leaning against the counter, he sipped the steaming liquid for a moment, ignoring her question. Finally, he released a sigh and rotated his neck, his face grimacing as he stretched his muscles. “Chase phoned me before he left for work. He told me what happened. You OK, sis?”

  Luna strode into the room, heading straight for the kettle. She needed tea to deal with this. She flicked the switch on, the sound of the water beginning to boil heavenly to her ears. “Seriously, Michael, do you know what it was? If you do, you’d better tell me now otherwise I’m going to go crazy on your arse.”

  Fatigue flashed across his features as Michael’s face disappeared behind his cup. He took several long swallows before responding. “Seriously, Luna, I have no idea what it was. Could’ve been a hairless squirrel for all I know.”

  Luna slammed her mug down, the golden liquid spilling onto the sides. Drops splattered against her hand, burning her flesh and making her wince. Her body twisted to face her brother. She didn’t need a mirror to see the disbelief etched across her face. “It was not a hairless squirrel, it was nothing like anything I’ve ever seen in my life. Not even in one of those cheesy horror movies. You have no idea how awful it was - its claws were longer than my own fingers. The glass is full of scratches where it was trying to get inside. It screamed so loud that it physically hurt to listen to. Then it jumped off and escaped into the woods. Does that sound like a hairless squirrel?”

  “Lower your voice, Luna, I’ve already got a headache,” Michael said with a groan. Running his hand through his honey blonde hair, he fixed her with a stare. “It could be anything. Perhaps a genetically fucked up squirrel that’s gone rabid. Maybe it’s an unknown species imported from the depths of the Amazon jungle. I don’t know. What I do know is that one of my wolves is dead, and I can’t find out who did it. Although I did discover loads of white pebbles, the same as the ones on the porch, all throughout the woods.” Michael took another sip of his coffee, but the tension remained tight around his eyes. “Something’s out there. Maybe it’s your creature, I don’t know. But Chase and I will find out. You don’t need to worry about it.”

  Luna glanced at her brother. Exhaustion painted the lines of his face, his blue eyes spent. She glanced over him – he still wore the same clothes from yesterday. Dirt stained his jeans, his sneakers caked in mud, and rips in his t-shirt revealed golden skin. He’s spent all night in the woods searching for his dead wolf, she realised.

  Luna breathed in the steam from her cup, her hand no longer hurting from where the hot liquid had spilled onto it. She knew she should really clean up the mess on the counter, but she didn’t move. It could wait. She’d only been back in America for less than a day and already so much had happened.

  Perhaps Michael was right. It could’ve been a diseased squirrel or chipmunk. Were there chipmunks in Virginia? She didn’t know what creatures were native to these parts.

  But whatever it was, it was gone now and that was all that mattered. It wasn’t as if she was going to be staying for long, after all. By next week, she’d be back on a flight to Paris, back where she belonged. She resolved to put it out of her mind and concentrate on other things.

  Like sorting out her parents’ funerals.

  A sigh fluttered from the confines of her mouth. If she didn’t feel tired five minutes ago, she did now. “Fine. I’ll leave you to deal with your wolves and whatever secrets you have lurking about these woods. But you may want to check out the window and get it fixed. It didn’t look good last night.” Raising her cup to her mouth, she swallowed some of the contents, relishing the taste of bergamot on her tongue. Her tastebuds exploded with the heavenly flavour. Just what she needed after last night. “What do we do today?”

  Michael drained his cup and placed it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out. If Mum was alive she’d be up his butt getting him to clean it. “I’ve got some errands to run, phone calls to make and all that fun stuff. We’ll see the sheriff after lunch. We can start preparing everything afterwards.”

  “What can I do until then?” Luna asked, tasting the sorrow lacing both their words. She needed to keep herself busy or her mind would go back to that creature. If that was a hairless squirrel, then I’m a monkey.

  Michael gripped the sides of the sink, his head bowed. “No idea. Perhaps you could go through the paperwork and stuff? Insurance details, wills, all that crap? They should be in the safe in Dad’s office.”

  Luna pulled a face. “Urgh. As if I don’t get enough paperwork at the office. Fine. It’ll give me something to do.”

  Michael nodded and headed towards the hallway but stopped at the door. He turned his head, his blue eyes mixed with emotion, but Luna couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Don’t worry, sis, there’s nothing for you to fear in the woods. There’s nothing strange going on out there. Once Mom and Dad’s funerals are done, go back to your normal life and forget about all this.” Wit
hout waiting for an answer, he left. A second later and she heard the tell-tall bang of the front door closing.

  Sorrow and hurt swirled through her at his words. Damn her family, damn them for always wanting to send her away. Sipping her tea, she forced back the bitter tears burning her eyes. They weren’t worth it. Not anymore. She’d drink her tea, get dressed, go through the paperwork, grieve for her parents, then leave.

  Just like they wanted her to.

  Luna inhaled deeply, drawing as much oxygen into her lungs as she could, then exhaled it slowly. Every time the pain got too much she resorted back to the habit. After all, it had been the only way she knew to stop herself from breaking down in public. She repeated it, over and over, until breathing came normally.

  He’s right in one way, Luna thought. After the funerals, she would leave. She’d go back to her secretarial job, filing folders, making phone calls, making tea and coffee. She’d date Pierre, visit museums, wander around quaint little villages, enjoy a few drinks at the chic bars Pierre took her to, and go back to her little apartment each night.

  Predictable. Comfortable. Safe.

  A life without pain. Without constant rejection.

  Those relentless rebuffs kept her from returning to America after school. Instead, she’d followed her friends travelling around Europe for a few years, experiencing the taste of Italy, Greece, Austria, and other places. Six months island hopping in Greece, another four hiking across Italy, another year around Spain and Portugal - all because one friend wanted to study history at university. Years spent in tents, cheap hostels, and endless nights bartending before waking up at six a.m. to visit ancient temples and monuments created some of the best times in her life.

  But good times always came to an end. Everyone had returned home eventually or went off to university. The inevitable drift began. When was the last time she’d spoken to Samantha, her best friend? It must’ve been six months after she’d moved to Tokyo. She’d fallen in love with a CEO of a major corporation or something out there. Fiona became a leading archaeologist, Marie a graphic designer for a leading publishing house.

  And where was she? Nowhere, really.

  She’d drifted from one job to another over the years; receptionist, PA, secretary. Luna snorted and raised her mug. All those opportunities you wanted me to take, Mum. Wasted. Sorry.

  In stark contrast, Michael and Chase opened a successful garage together straight after high school.

  Everyone seemed to be winning in life apart from her.

  A frown pulled between Luna’s brows as she tried to recall memories of Chase as a child. Nothing much came to mind. If she remembered correctly, his mother had moved into town when he was just a baby. Hazy recollections of skirts and faint flowery scents flowed through Luna’s mind of Chase’s mother, but nothing substantial. Their mothers had been friends, that much she knew. Michael’s birth a year later allowed the boys to forge a thirty-year friendship. As kids, they’d always got up to mischief.

  Like the time they’d covered a sponge in frosting and offered her the first bite of the ‘cake’. A small smile danced over her lips as she recalled the scolding that followed from both their mothers. They’d been forced to bake a real cake and serve Luna the biggest slice to her delight.

  It seemed funny how things were starting to come back to her. A week ago, she wouldn’t have remembered any of this.

  Enough with the trip down memory lane, a little voice in the back of her mind told her. You can’t stay here all day. It’s time to get on with something.

  Swallowing the remnants of her tea, Luna grabbed the pillow and blanket off the sofa and headed upstairs. After brushing her teeth and a quick shower, she pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt and trod back downstairs. Taking a deep breath to steady the nerves fluttering through her veins, she pushed open the door to her father’s study.

  Bookcases lined each wall of the house from floor to ceiling, each row stacked with books, folders, and boxes. Papers spilled over the sides of many. Luna groaned at the sight. Only a small section on the far side of the room remained free of shelves, adorned with a magnificent piece of framed artwork. The oil painting depicted a pack of wolves trekking through the woods at night as a thick blanket of snow covered the ground. Delicate snowflakes fell from the heavens, creating a rather magnificent, almost ethereal scene. Luna took a step forward, her eyes mesmerised by it. It reminded her of eighteenth century works she’d seen in art galleries, but it lacked a signature. Only a small block imprint of a life-sized wolf’s paw sat in the corner. Guess my family really does love wolves that much.

  A gigantic desk covered from one side of the room to the other alongside the window, providing the best view to see anyone coming up the drive. Two laptops lay closed on the solid oak, a few folders sitting beside them. A framed photo of the entire family stood to one side, showing the four of them standing outside the Louvre taken two years ago. Luna flicked open a folder, but a quick glance showed nothing interesting apart from some old bank statements.

  Luna ran her fingers along the wood. The material was old, she could tell that much. The long years created a weathered but smooth appearance and had clearly been hand-made to fit the room itself. Luna quickly glanced at the bookcase and discovered they were made from the same type of wood.

  Maybe one of my ancestors carved it all from the trees surrounding the house, she thought. The idea sent a ribbon of warmth through her at it. A quick rummage through the desk drawers showed nothing apart from a hefty collection of paperclips, staples, and pens, many without their lids.

  Luna turned back to the bookcases. Nothing seemed in any order. Internally, she grumbled at the thought of going through them all. She hated disorganisation. A closer inspection showed a wide spectrum of genres from history to geography, ancient languages to the animal kingdom. Countless books on wolves lined the shelves, but also on bears and tigers. Someone in the family really loved animals.

  Luna stopped when she came over to the right-hand side of the room, instantly recognising her mother’s side. The shelves were lined thick with romance novels spanning from the seventies until the present day, their crumpled covers well-worn from years of enjoyment. A smile sprang across her face.

  As Luna’s eyes stretched over the titles, they found something which made her pause. Her forehead creased in confusion. Books on the occult, on witchcraft, vampirism, werewolves and other shifters, of ancient legends and myths. Some were lined in leather, the material old and faded with the passage of time. “What on earth ...” Luna whispered to herself as she crouched down.

  Never over the years had her parents ever mentioned anything about the supernatural. For crying out loud, they were atheists, they didn’t believe in anything apart from science.

  Or so you thought, came the annoying voice in her head again. Come on, how much do you really know about them? It’s not as if you lived with them, is it?

  Shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thought, Luna stood. She wouldn’t travel down that road. Not now. She’d do what she came to do. Insurance details, wills, paperwork. Things that didn’t require emotions. Taking a deep breath, she set to work.

  After thirty minutes of scouring one shelf after another, Luna finally discovered the relevant paperwork in a folder. Everything seemed up to date and filed properly with the family lawyers. According to the will, the estate was to be divided equally between Michael and Luna except for the contents in the safe.

  They were to go to Michael.

  And the house was to stay within the family. Not to be sold under any circumstances.

  Jealousy snaked through Luna’s veins like lava, burning her lungs. For a moment, her body couldn’t get enough oxygen.

  What’s in the safe and why does Michael get it? Although she had to admit it didn’t surprise her in the least. Luna’s head turned in all directions. Not that she could find it. Where the hell was it? She crouched down, wondering if it was beneath the desk, but still unable to find its loc
ation.

  Standing up, her gaze settled on the painting. “I wonder ...” she breathed, slowly stepping forward. Carefully, Luna lifted the edge from the wall and a glint of gunmetal grey caught her eyes.

  “Yes,” she cried, triumphant in her discovery. An old-fashioned type of safe sat within the wall, complete with a dial on the front. She reached out and turned it either way, but as she expected, it refused to open. Fifteen minutes later, and still nothing. “Fine, keep your secrets,” she told it on a sigh. She’d need to ask Michael for the combination if she wanted to know what lay within.

  The need to know clawed at her.

  Questions shot through her mind. What was in there? Why did Michael get to keep it and not her? Why did everything come down to him in the end? What secrets did they keep from her, even beyond the grave?

  Why didn’t they love her enough to let her in on it?

  Feeling the madness of it all starting to descend, Luna forced herself to walk away from the safe. No answers would come no matter how many times she asked the questions. Eventually, it would drive her insane.

  Instead, she walked back to her mother’s bookcase and stared at them, still unsure of why the books were there in the first place. Her mother hated horror movies, so why have an entire bookcase on the subject?

  It was surreal, to say the least.

  Not everything seemed horror movie material, though. Near the bottom stood a row of notebooks, all lined up in a neat row. Luna pulled one out and flipped it open, instantly recognising the elegant and delicate penmanship that her mother favoured. A small smile curved her lips.

  Glancing at the pages, it appeared to be a diary. She’d never been aware that her mother had kept one. A sigh flowed between her lips. Just one more thing she didn’t know.