It didn’t take long before Chase hit something with his paws.
Dropping to her knees, Luna began brushing away the cool soil with her fingers. An outline of a metal box slowly came into view. Chase resumed digging, this time concentrating on the edges. Luna moved her fingers away. A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins as Chase revealed more and more of the box. Finally, Luna reached in and with a gentle tug, pulled it from its resting place.
Around ten inches long, intricate Celtic designs adorned the box. It glinted in the moonlight, appearing almost ethereal. Luna instantly recognised it as not just silver, but a genuine antique. It had to be at least a hundred years old. A small padlock dangled from the front, keeping the contents within hidden from view.
“I wonder ...” she whispered. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the small key Michael had given her earlier. Fingers trembling and heart racing, she placed it in the padlock and turned.
Click.
Slowly, Luna opened the box and the world exploded into brilliant white light.
Seventeen
A gasp shot from the confines of Luna’s mouth as the blinding light filled her vision.
Pain blossomed behind her eyes as the intense pulse of light plunged through her body, sending her hair flying in all directions behind her. Dropping the box and protecting her face with her hands, she caught a faint whimper of discomfort over the sudden gush of wind.
As it shot out the other side of her body, Luna slowly opened her eyes and dropped her hands. Light flooded the woods, pulsating through the trees and revealed startled creatures that had been cloaked by night only seconds ago. As the blinding wave swam through the woods, the dark of night began to return.
“Oh, mon dieu,” Luna whispered, she took a deep breath and tried to retain some vague threat of calm. Sounds of scampering creatures sang through the air. The light faded, allowing the darkness to fall back into its rightful place. Stomach churning, adrenaline still pounding through her veins, she glanced down.
Chase crept closer, his nose almost touching the box. With trembling fingers, Luna picked up the box. Sucking in another breath, she reopened the lid, bracing herself for round two.
Nothing happened.
A scrap of red cloth hid something beneath. Luna ran her fingers over it; the thickness suggested considerable age and wealth. She pulled back the edges and gasped as a beautiful dagger materialised. Roughly six or seven inches long, the handle was an elaborate design of vines and tiny flowers, with the pommel shaped into a magnificent wolf’s head. The entire thing was made from silver, the hilt dulled by centuries of time, but the blade itself glistened with an intensity that shocked her. It seemed as if it had been formed from pure moonlight, illuminating the darkness surrounding them. She reached in and stroked the blade, careful not to cut herself.
A coldness crept up her fingers, but as she gripped the hilt a crawling sensation travelled up her arm. Luna sucked in a deep breath, but it did little to settle the nerves. It felt as if thousands of tiny creatures had burrowed beneath her skin, coursing upwards and spreading throughout her body.
An energy vibrated within, travelling down every nerve ending, every artery, filling her completely. Then she felt it. A steady beat within her blood. Inhaling again, Luna concentrated on that thump. It’s like a heartbeat, she realised, beating in time with her own.
She closed her eyes, she forced herself to breathe and surrendered to that pulsing energy, riding it until it finally died down and lay silent within her hand.
A snort caused Luna to glance up again. Amber eyes stared at the dagger within her hand. “Can you turn back, please?” she asked, her voice a breathless whisper on the air.
Chase trotted backwards, his eyes never leaving the knife. Iridescent light enveloped him, lighting up the dark sky, as if someone had tossed a handful of diamond dust in the air. One moment stood a beautiful wolf; the next, a very naked Chase. Not bothering to dress, he quickly knelt beside Luna and examined the dagger, wonder blazing in his eyes.
“This is it,” he breathed, bringing his face closer but not taking it for himself. “The dagger that belonged to the first werewolf, given by the gods themselves. I remember your father telling me some believe his soul lays within the blade itself, but I never thought I’d see it for myself.” The awe in his voice was unmistakable.
“This must be the artefact Lyulf is after. I can’t believe we actually found it.”
Chase covered her hand that held the dagger with his own. Determination blazed across his face. “No matter what, he can’t get this. Werewolves must not become his personal weapon to destroy mankind.” He closed his eyes and his features took on an edge of strain. “I can feel it, the power within. It calls to my wolf, making him want to submit.”
Luna inhaled deeply. Resolve burned in her stomach. “We won’t let him have it. We need to speak to Michael.”
Chase nodded. “Where is he?”
A sigh fluttered from between her lips. “He’s gone to Misty’s house for some tender loving care,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Chase reached for his clothes. Luna averted her eyes. “Let’s go then.”
Clutching the box to her chest, Luna quickly followed Chase back through the woods and jumped into his truck. As Chase drove down the driveway, a mixture of emotions swirled in her chest – hope, excitement, fear. They formed a knot that she didn’t know she could untangle.
As they passed the spot where Lyulf had attacked only the day before, Luna frowned. Michael’s car was gone.
Silence filled the vehicle as they drove across town. Luna spotted only a few cars on the road, which sent a ripple of unease through her. A city girl by heart, she was used to the constant din of Paris, where the streets remained full of noise day and night. Westfield, on the other hand, seemed its complete opposite. Here the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees and the chirp of the crickets floated on the wind like a never-ending song. The pace of life here was so slow it was almost dead.
But in Paris there are no werewolves or fae or whatever that hideous thing was at my window.
Luna inhaled and closed her eyes. Emotions continued to storm through her, questions spun around and around, edging out of control. Although the dagger didn’t come with a sign saying, ‘this is the ancient artefact the crazy fae wants,’ what else could it be? Something about it just seemed to call to her.
But why? At the end of the day, she wasn’t a werewolf. Michael was.
Perhaps it was because they were related, she wondered. She may not be able to change or shift or whatever they called it, but still ... Maybe there was a connection deep within.
But no matter what, Chase was right. Lyulf couldn’t get his hands on it. They didn’t have much time, though. He would be back, soon, to claim it. If they refused, Luna knew he would attack them.
Thoughts ran through her head. They could run, fly back to France. Maybe they might be able to shake him off, but how long for? If he could find them in America, surely he’d find them in Paris. She questioned whether they could find a magical safe – was there a bank where supernatural creatures could stash away items they didn’t want anyone to get their hands on?
It may have been safer if we hadn’t found it.
Doubts continued to plague her as they carried on driving. Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside a one-storey house on a quiet road. Only three other properties stood nearby, all similar to each other. A heavy stillness hung in the air. A few lights illuminated the quiet street, sending shadows dancing over the houses. Placing the box beneath the seat, she climbed out the car, praying it would be safe for the next few minutes.
A soft glow lit up both windows of the front of the house, revealing peeling paint on the woodwork. Edges of the wooden boards lifted from the porch floor, the light hitting the head of a protruding nail here and there. A few of the columns supporting the railing leant sideways. Although the house had clearly seen better days, the front garden appeared neat an
d tidy with a bed of primroses and geraniums.
Chase took a step towards the house. A line pulled between his brows and he sniffed the air. A low growl tumbled from his mouth.
Suddenly, he rushed forward, ripped the door off its hinges, and disappeared within.
Alarm ran cold through her at his urgency. Luna raced after him. As soon as she tore through the door, a scream pierced the air. Heart pounding, she followed the sound, heading to the back of the house. With each step, her stomach dropped further and further into a dark pit.
Then slammed into the bottom.
As she stepped through a bedroom door, horror rooted her feet to the floor.
Blood filled every inch of her vision. It seeped into the sheets, staining the creamy satin crimson. Droplets trickled down the wall behind, a grisly rainbow that filled Luna’s heart with ice. The scent of fresh blood invaded her senses. Luna’s eyes darted down. Michael’s body lay still on the bed, his wrists tied to the bedposts, his chest ripped into shreds.
“Michael!” she cried, wrenching her feet from where she stood. Five strips of bloodied flesh peeled away from his torso, revealing bone, muscles, tendons, all the things that Luna knew should never see the light of day. The world faded into nothing but blood and fear.
Bile burned in the back of her throat as she undid the ropes. Grabbing a sheet from the floor, she shoved it against the wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The cream-coloured sheet instantly turned scarlet. “Come on, Michael, please. Please,” she breathed, salty tears burning her eyes. He couldn’t die. Not now. She’d lost her parents already. She couldn’t cope if her brother was taken as well.
“He’s breathing,” Chase growled from the corner. “Keep the sheet pressed against him. We got here just in time.”
Luna’s head snapped up.
Chase stood in the corner of the room, his hand wrapped around a woman’s throat, her feet dangling several inches from the ground. A racy red negligee barely covered ample breasts and she reeked of fresh sex. Black curls hung halfway down her back, but Luna’s eyes dropped to her hands. They clutched at Chase’s tight hold, her fingers and palms coated in crimson. Fear blazed within the woman’s eyes.
The ice in Luna’s veins slithered further throughout her body.
Chase squeezed the woman’s neck, wringing a pain-laced cry from her mouth. “Why the hell did you do this to him, Misty?”
So, this was the woman Michael had intended to bed tonight.
“I didn’t -”
“Don’t lie to me, bitch,” Chase growled, not bothering to hide his rage. His fist tightened around her throat, cutting off whatever she was about to say. A sickening gurgle bubbled out of her mouth, and her fingers frantically clawed at his grasp. “I can smell your lies like shit on a hot day so don’t even try it. The next words out your mouth better be the truth, or they’ll be the last ones you ever say. Why. Did. You. Try. To. Kill. Michael?”
Tears spilled over Misty’s face, her lips trembling with terror that emanated from her every pore. Chase loosened his grip, and she sucked in a shaky breath. “He made me do it,” she whispered on a pitiful croak.
Rage blazed in Chase’s eyes as he brought her face closer to hers. “Who made you do it?”
Something seemed to break inside the female werewolf. She closed her eyes and dropped her hands from Chase’s iron-like grasp. “Dean Russo.”
“Who the fuck is Dean Russo?” Chase spat, icicles dripping from the words.
“Alpha ... Crescent Moon pack,” she rasped.
Chase released his hold on her, and Misty dropped to the floor like a sack of old potatoes.
Shock raced through Luna along with alarm bells. The Crescent Moon pack. The same pack that had demanded her parents to turn her over when she was young. Why would they want Misty to kill her brother?
And why now?
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Chase loomed over Misty, his shadow dancing across her face menacingly. “Start talking.”
Misty’s gaze dropped, her features painted in fear. “Russo is my alpha. He had me transfer to three different packs before I joined the Black Claws in Nevada so I could join you.”
“Why did he want you to join us?”
Tears trickled down the side of Misty’s face. “My orders were simple. To kill the alpha and his son within three months by whatever means necessary.”
“You killed my parents?” Luna whispered, her voice carrying the sound of her heart breaking in two.
Misty shook her head, her gaze firmly on the floor. “No, I had nothing to do with that. I don’t know if anyone else did.”
Chase took a menacing step forward. “But you did try and kill Michael.”
Defeat stretched across Misty’s face as she lifted her head. She nodded. “I knew my wolf couldn’t beat him, so I convinced him to let me tie him up. Then I changed my hands and tried to ... to ...”
“To rip his throat out,” Chase finished for her.
Rage simmered beneath the ice in Luna’s veins. A frown etched across her brow as her eyes slid over to Chase. His remained on Misty, who continued to cower at his feet. “Can you really just change parts of your body?”
Chase shrugged. “Partial transformations are rare. They take a lot of concentration and mental strength.”
Misty’s stole a glance at Chase, and for a second, pride flashed on her face beneath the fear. “Only three other wolves in the country can do it. I’m the only woman who can.” But it disappeared as fast as it came. “That’s why he chose me. Getting Michael into bed and taking him by surprise was the only way.”
“Why did he order you to kill George and Michael?” Chase demanded, his tone as rough as his eyes. When Misty hung her head and didn’t answer, he grabbed her by her hair and yanked her upwards, flinging her against the wall. Luna gasped, her heart jumping into her throat. Cracks in the plaster spread out around her body with the force and pain rippled across her features. “Tell me now or I’ll rip out your tongue.”
“I don’t know why, I swear!” Misty cried, her face grimacing but she made no attempt to free herself. More tears fell from the corners of her eyes. “All he told me was to kill them both. When I asked why, he told me it didn’t concern me. I didn’t ask anything else.” Large brown eyes stared up at Chase, her lower lip trembling. “You have no idea what he’s like.”
Chase shook her once more, disgust stretched across his face. Misty’s head hit the wall again with a sickening crunch. The plaster cracked further, revealing dark brick beneath. Dust billowed on the air. “What the hell do you think I’m going to do to you?”
Tears shone in her eyes and her mouth stretched into a grim line. She shook her head. “Nothing as bad as Russo will. One of the young wolves in the pack angered him and he tortured him. Tortured him, Chase! Skinned him alive and used his intestines as a leash. You’ll kill me for what I did tonight, but you won’t do anything like that to me.”
The room plunged in silence, Michael’s heavy breathing echoing in her ears.
Luna pulled the sheet away from his chest, the material coming away with a nauseating rip as his chest sawed up and down. Fresh blood oozed from the wounds. Luna placed a clean corner of the sheet onto his chest, praying she wouldn’t lose him.
Luna glanced up to watch Chase fling her away from him. Misty slumped down the wall, her black curls covered into dust. Tears streamed over her cheeks. “If Michael lives, I won’t kill you,” he told her, his tone low and deep.
Luna’s heart battered her ribs.
“But I haven’t made up my mind as to whether I will,” came an exhausted, strained voice.
“Michael!” Luna exclaimed, tears streaming down her face as she watched her brother sluggishly open his eyes. Relief battled against dread at the sound of his voice. With one hand, she grasped his. Blood-soaked fingers squeezed hers gently.
Pain painted Michael’s face as he turned his head in Misty’s direction. The female werewolf stared back, her e
yes wide in terror, as if confronted by her own personal bogeyman. She shrank beneath that piercing gaze. Luna could feel her fear heavy against her skin, as if soaking the very air.
“I am very, very disappointed in you, Misty,” he growled.
A chill snaked down Luna’s spine. She’d never heard her brother’s voice take on such a dangerous edge before, but then again, no one had ever tried to kill him.
Or had they and he’d not told her?
“Forgive me,” Misty whispered, her voice cracking.
Michael raised himself up, slowly, agony washing over his face as he did so. The sheet dropped, revealing ugly wounds. The edges weren’t closed completely, but at least Luna couldn’t see sinew and muscle anymore. Luna jumped up, hovering in case he fell. Inhaling deeply, Michael fixed Misty with a piercing look. “Tell me the truth. Did you have anything to do with my parents’ deaths?”
Misty shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “I swear I know nothing.”
“Are you working with Lyulf?”
The question surprised Luna. Why hadn’t she thought to ask that? Probably because your brother was bleeding in front of you.
A crease formed between Misty’s eyes. “Who?”
Michael released a weary sigh, one which Luna echoed. So, Misty and Lyulf weren’t working as a team. This meant they had two separate enemies. Maybe I should’ve stayed in Paris, Luna thought bitterly. At least it’s safer there.
Then dread seized her heart. Safe for you, but not Michael.
“What do you want me to do with her?” Chase asked, positioning himself in the door, his face glowering in rage. Luna didn’t think Misty would try to make a run for it; defeat washed over her like cheap celebrity perfume.
Luna placed a gentle hand on her brother’s shoulder, grateful his skin seemed to be warming. “We found it,” she whispered.
Michael shared a glance with Luna then with Chase before he turned his gaze back to Misty. “You came here to kill both my father and me. It’s within my rights to execute you now. As strange as it may sound, I actually have other matters to attend to that are more important than you. Chase, call Mike and Tim. They can guard the bitch until we get back. Tell them to bring the silver handcuffs.”
House of Wolves (Silver Moon Series Book 1) Page 15
