Four Moons: The Complete Collection: (Books 1 - 4)

by Amos, Richard

  Sirens in the distance—my cue to leave.

  I’d done it. Her power was taken, now to clean it out of my swords and let Yolanda have it. The hand-cleaving bit had been an awkward side effect. Hey, I wasn’t about to get on the sharp end of those talons.

  “See ya,” I said.

  My ruby ring glimmered, working its magic.

  “What have you done to me?” she whimpered.

  I didn’t answer, didn’t look back. She could report me all she wanted to the SCU or the police. They’d never find a piece of me there in the house. Sure, I’d taken her banshee essence, but if I wasn’t anywhere in the house, not one little speck, then there was fuck all she could say to have me questioned.

  In the dark and stormy night, I made my exit with another job in the bag.

  Chapter Nine

  Friday night rolled up, after a couple of days of the missing Daria storyline filling up every hour of news coverage.

  Apparently, she’d disappeared before the SCU had turned up, finding her battered house empty—which was mega-quick work by the kidnappers seeing as the SCU sirens had been squealing when I’d been there. Not one neighbor had seen anything, but they’d heard plenty of the banshee’s screaming.

  Not anymore.

  As I sat watching the latest speculation in my armchair, popping choccie raisins, some breaking news came through. The whole thing with Daria killing a guy story was splurged across the screen. Shit was gonna go wild, her reputation bombed to hell just like that.

  Whoa.

  The fact that another werewolf had been murdered on the same night of Daria’s disappearance, close to the spot the other victim had been found, had been overlooked. Beth’d told me about it, how the same ritualistic stuff had been present—the blood of the werewolf used to draw a strange symbol no one could decipher.

  Was there a serial killer on the loose?

  “Bitch deserves everything she gets,” Mama Rita said from the other chair.

  When the elf had cleaned my swords again on the anvil, she’d put the red junk into two glass jars and made a phone call to Yolanda. Done. Over. The torturing, however it was gonna go down, was free to begin.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, a bit preoccupied.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I don’t care.” I was just glad my back was back to normal after getting slashed—thanks to some elf ointment speeding up the healing process.

  “Ah, moody, are we?”

  “No.” I shoved a massive handful of raisins in my gob. “I just don’t see—”

  “What? Finish your food. Rude to talk with your mouth full.”

  I glared at her, and she laughed in my face.

  Cow. “Gone. Happy?”

  “Yep. What were you saying?”

  “I just don’t see why he’s being funny with me.”

  She groaned. “Not this again.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve been through the Gabriel issue, sweetie. You want him to have his own space, to be away from your bullshit.”

  “What bullshit?”

  “You said it! Not my words. You said distance would do you both some good. Pass out some of those raisins.”

  I handed her the bag. “Yeah, but he doesn’t have to go all quiet on me, does he? Can’t we still be mates?”

  “Mates?”

  “Friend mates, not mated mates. Gimme a break. You know what I mean.”

  She chewed, taking her time to answer. “Well, that’s what having some distance does. You’re not going to be talking every day like bosom buddies. That’s what got you in this mess with him in the first place.”

  “No, my dad got us in this mess.”

  “So did your mouth.”

  That pushed the button for annoyed. “Not my fault he acted like a prick.”

  “I thought you said you did too.”

  “Well, yeah. But—”

  “You make my brain hurt.”

  I got up. “Tea? I’m fed up with this.”

  Without waiting or her to answer, I stalked off to the kitchen, glancing outside my window to see Beth there in her car, reading a book.

  The night was clear, cool. People walked by, heading down to the bars near Kings Cross Station, probably, having fun, not standing here in a pair of shorts and a vest and flip flops, gorging themselves on chocolate raisins even after a big helping of beef lasagna and thinking about a guy who was out doing whatever he was doing, and it was sooo not my business because he should have a life and shit, but I wanted to be part of it because I was a freak and didn’t know what I was thinking because I wanted him to go have a life and let Beth do the babysitting shit so he could find himself a bloke and go have that white picket fence life.

  Man, my brain had to take a pause for breath!

  I popped the kettle on.

  “Go find him,” I whispered to my babies.

  Bob and Rose obliged me as they always did, going out into the night to track G down.

  Was I being a complete wanker?

  “Come on, Akira,” Mama Rita said, striding into the room.

  We were having a sleepover. She was all done up in a fluffy pair of white PJs with a yellow Labrador puppy on the front, her hair in curlers.

  “Come on, what?”

  She snickered.

  That made me smile…a bit. “Mind in the gutter again, eh?”

  “Again? It’s never out of it.”

  I folded my arms, letting out a heavy sigh. “I still wanna be his friend.”

  “I know you do. And you can. You’ve had a row, that’s all. When things are settled, you’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe we’re just not good for each other. I mean, he’s my dad’s second, and I’m who I am.”

  “Don’t make excuses.”

  “I’m not. They’re facts.”

  She took a seat at the kitchen table. “Look, I’ll put it like this. If you’re meant to be friends, then you will be. If not, then you won’t. Personally, I think you will be. All Gabriel needs is his own life. He’s got a crush on you and needs to get over it.”

  Wow, I felt the forehead seriously crease up. “He doesn’t have a crush on me.” That was a bullshit answer. I’d always had that niggle he wanted more from me.

  “You know he does. Don’t play dumb. Anyway, I can’t see the two of you ever being a thing.”

  “You’re damn right!”

  Why did my answer make my chest throb just a little bit?

  Stupid chest.

  “But I think he’d like that,” the elf carried on. “Or is he confused about it because of all the time he dedicates to you?”

  “Way to make me feel like shit.”

  “Sweetie, you’ve said this yourself.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you losing your mind?”

  “Fuck you.” I poured the boiled water into two cups holding teabags.

  “In conclusion, space is a good thing. It’ll untangle his brain, and then he can be him, and you can be you. Maybe then you’ll have a better friendship.”

  I retrieved milk from the fridge. “That’d be good.”

  “And happy shagging for you. No more guilt for banging…what was his name?”

  “Harry. And I don’t feel guilty about shagging him. Why would I?”

  “You looked guilty to me.”

  “I love it when you talk out of your arse.”

  “I adore watching you pour a big tin of gloss over stuff.”

  “Prefer matte.”

  “Just make the tea, bitch.”

  * * *

  With more tea, crisps, and a fourth bag of chocolate raisins, we were just about to watch the second rom-com of the night when Bob and Rose located G.

  At Lunar. At the nightclub with…another guy.

  “What’s the matter?” Mama Rita asked as the movie started.

  “I need to go out.”

  “You what?”

  “What’s the time?”

  “Eleven. What’s the matte
r? What’re you talking about?”

  I was on my feet, hurrying to my room.

  “Akira?” she called after me.

  Most of the time, I’m quite well put together. Sometimes, I’m not, like in the moment, I started pulling clothes out of my wardrobe.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Looking for my hottest clubbing jeans.”

  “Clubbing jeans? What for?”

  “Aha!” I found the black ones with the red piping that made my arse look like a granite peach. “And this.” I found my tight black shirt that always brought the boys over, especially when I let some buttons loose to show off the man flesh.

  “You’re not seriously going clubbing?”

  “I am.”

  “But why?”

  “Feeling the need to boogie.”

  “Yep, you’re going round the bend. Whatever. I’m going back to stuff my face and watch a love story that would never happen in the real world. Enjoy. See you in the morning, traitor.”

  She went off, fluffy slippers scraping along the floor as she went.

  She was right. I was ditching her like a total fuckhead. But any sense of reason had just been kicked in the nuts.

  Shower. I had to smell fresh.

  What the hell was I doing?

  * * *

  The crazy train hadn’t slowed but picked up momentum, big-style.

  Outfit and hair on point, I was weaving my way through the crowded streets of Soho to get to Lunar. A few women whistled at me, then a few guys. Yep, perfect choice of clothing. I’d upped my bangabilty to the max. Who I was gonna bang was a different story, another being why the hell I was out on the streets heading for a nightclub when I’d already planned to chill at home.

  To see Gabriel’s date? Yeah, maybe. Make sure he was alright. Yeah! That was it. Perfectly rational to look out for my buddy, who was the beta werewolf of the High Alpha and mega-capable of looking after his own arse. I mean, you couldn’t be too careful, right?

  Says the man who fucked a stranger a few nights ago.

  Nah, I was a good friend, actually gave a shit about the guy. If this bloke he was with was a prick, then I’d be there to…to…

  Yeah, whatever.

  I knew the bouncer at Lunar, cutting the line.

  Daz and me slapped hands and bro-hugged.

  “How you doing?” the big werewolf asked. He was a proper bruiser, the scars slashing across his brown face indicating a violent past where his enemies had come off far worse.

  “Not bad, geez. You good? How’s Mandy?”

  “Yeah, all good. Just saw Gabe come in with a new fella.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Good for him, right?”

  “Defo, mate. Well, I’m in need of a few shots tonight, I tell ya.”

  He laughed. “Nice one. Have a good one. Come out for a beer sometime, yeah?”

  I nodded. “Will text ya, bruv.”

  “Sweet.”

  He let me pass.

  I headed up the steps, the heavy bass of the music going through my feet. I went through the nondescript entrance hall, passing the cloakroom with a group of clubbers gathered there, then headed through some double doors and into the main arena.

  The main space was a huge cavern bathed in fake moonlight. Blue lasers were pulsing along with the music, the whole place packed out. Dancers were close together in a sea of limbs. There was no way I was going down there.

  G was in one of the other arenas.

  Around the huge space was a walkway orbiting the whole thing, leading to the three other arenas in the building. This one was the heavy dance music zone, whereas the others had a different theme.

  I was looking for the Chilled Space.

  As I made my way along the walkway, someone bumped into me.

  “Sorry,” I said loudly over the music, not looking up.

  A hand on my shoulder.

  I looked up then, ready to snap a wrist if I needed to. “Paul?”

  “Fancy seeing you here!”

  Great. “Hi,” I offered.

  “Looking good,” he answered, whiskey on his breath.

  Admittedly, so did he. Blonde hair immaculate, his crisp white shirt showing off his muscles, his black jeans as tight as mine. Plus, his fair skin had a healthy golden sheen to it.

  “Thanks.”

  His hand stayed on my shoulder. “Real good.”

  “Gotta go.”

  “Wait. Stay. Talk to me.”

  “How many you had to drink?”

  Paul giggled. “Ah, just a few.” He described small by pinching a finger and thumb together, squinting his eyes.

  “Okay. Well, enjoy your night.”

  He put himself in my path, putting his other hand on my other shoulder. “Please stay.”

  Typical drunk Paul. “I don’t want to.”

  “Because of the other night?” His blue eyes went all sorrowful. “I’m sorry. I was just doing my job.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But I want to…I…you…you know I like you.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Yes. I do. I like you a lot.” His hands slid down to my chest. “So firm.”

  “You on the pull tonight?” I asked, stepping back. I wasn’t here to be kissing him again.

  He winked at me, not looking at any of the hot women who strolled by.

  “Then happy pulling.” I slipped away, ignoring him calling after me.

  That lad needed to stop denying he enjoyed both sides of the cookie, and then realize I wasn’t any part of that damn biscuit for him to nibble on.

  I went through the white doors of the other arena. It was half the size of the biggie, white walls glowing gently with some soft purple backlight, smooth R ‘n’ B music playing at a less deafening level.

  There were booths around the dancefloor of glowing tiles, their tables white and the seats purple. I scanned all of them until my eyes landed on Gabriel looking sharp in white jeans and a blue shirt, sitting close to a guy with sculpted golden hair, cheekbones to die for, and radiant olive skin. His clothes looked expensive. He looked like a supermodel.

  I wanted to be sick.

  G spotted me staring.

  Ah, shit.

  Run away? Go over?

  Shit!

  I took a deep breath and went over. It was the way Gabriel cocked his head at me that got my feet moving. Big old bucket of bullshit was coming his way.

  “G!” I cried as I got to the booth. “Look at you out in the world.”

  He didn’t look too impressed by that.

  I wasn’t impressed by the way he was holding the maybe-model’s hand, the way they were sitting up close. Their body language was hinting at things to come.

  “Here with anyone?” Gabriel asked.

  “No. Just fancied a night out. Hi.” I offered my hand to the model.

  He didn’t take it, giving me aloofness in heavy waves.

  Fuckhead.

  “This is Tristan,” G said. “Tristan, this is Akira.”

  “Hello,” Tristan said dismissively, then leaned in to whisper something to G.

  The beta laughed and turned to kiss the guy full on the lips. For ten seconds.

  I just watched.

  Finally, G turned back to me and said, “Have a fun night.”

  Boom. Done. Over. He put his attention back on the man with the perfect jawline, sliding deeper into the booth, their hands all over one another. He didn’t look back at me; didn’t so much as acknowledge I was still standing there.

  Why would he? He was on a date. I was…I was the guy he was moving away from.

  Moving away? I wasn’t an ex! Fucking hell!

  “There you are!” Paul yelled from behind me.

  I turned to see him with his arms outstretched.

  Paul started to sway to the smooth music, and the runaway train was way beyond any brakes now.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Gabriel looking.

  Good.


  I approached Paul. “Let’s dance.”

  * * *

  Three in the morning, too many shots had, on my knees in an alleyway as Paul zipped himself up.

  The train had crashed.

  I’d sucked Paul off after all our dancing, some kissing, him telling me he wanted to put his cock in my pretty mouth…and I’d obliged, driven on by some fucked up need to rub it in G’s face. The only thing I’d been rubbing was Paul’s dick, and making a complete fool out of myself.

  I was jealous, and I didn’t know why.

  Without a word, Paul ran off.

  I stayed on my knees, drinking in the air, trying to stop my head from spinning. It didn’t work. I threw up all down myself, then started to cry.

  What the actual hell?

  I puked some more and carried on wailing until I blacked out.

  That was the last thing I remembered until sunlight stung my eyes, bringing me back to a wonderful hangover.

  Replace wonderful with evil.

  “Well, well, well,” Mama Rita’s voice announced too loudly.

  I groaned, the world beyond my eyes a haze, the memories of Paul’s boner in my gob, making me want to spew once again. It was like time hadn’t really passed—the alleyway, then here in what I was hoping was my bedroom.

  My mouth was a sewer, my head holding a thousand workmen with power drills. I’d really put away the Sambuca.

  Idiot!

  “Are you alive?” my friend asked.

  “Don’t be so stupid.” It hurt to talk.

  “I’m not the stupid one.”

  “Is this my bed?”

  “Yes, sweetie. You may want to change the sheets.”

  “Oh, God! I pissed myself.”

  “No, but you stink of sick.”

  “I didn’t piss myself?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  I touched my crotch. Dry. “Thank fuck for that.”

  I tried to sit up, my body having none of it.

  “I’ll bring in some water and paracetamol,” Mama Rita said.

  “Good plan.”

  So, I’d acted like a crazy person because G had a date. That was what crazy stalkers did. Next, because I was still not done being crazy, I went down the wonky road that was Paul—went down being the sore point.

  I was a fucking disgrace. How could I have let myself lose my head like that? Over my friend having his own life—a life I wanted him to have.