Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2)

by Adrianna Morgan

  “Over here.”

  Carefully checking behind her, she walked over to him. “What’s going on?”

  He gestured to his truck. “I’m glad you left Brett’s car behind,” he said, moving toward the vehicle, Layla in tow. “Too flashy around here.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I took the bus.” She opened the door and sat inside the warm cab. “What is going on, Martin? Did you see the news?”

  Sighing, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “A friend of mine who works down at the morgue told me about it last week when the first body was brought it. I didn’t want you to worry about it because you had other things on your mind.”

  Layla stared at him in shock. “You knew about this for a week!”

  He gave her a hard look. “It was two bodies who resembled each other. My friend only told me about it because he thought it might be a serial killer and he wanted my advice. Even when I saw the bodies, there was no way to really make any connections. Not until now.”

  She steamed inside, pissed that he had chosen to keep that information from her, but he was right. Still, it irked her that he had knowingly done it. Regardless of what else was going on in her life, it would have been good to at least know…to have some idea that someone was killing her clones.

  “So there is a connection now?”

  Martin nodded.

  “The sliced throats?” Layla guessed.

  “They all look like you and they were all killed the same way Wattan was. After the trial before the Council, it has to be someone connected to the Weres, connected to Wattan.”

  “I thought so too,” Layla agreed. “It has to be either Kuruk or Suzette.”

  “Exactly.” Martin gave her an admiring look. “Good for figuring that out.”

  Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “What good does it do me? I’ve figured out it’s possibly one of two people. We still don’t know where Suzette is and we can’t do anything about Kuruk.”

  She snapped her fingers as a memory from that afternoon came into her head. “Which reminds me, I saw Suzette’s cousin today.”

  Martin turned to look at her in alarm. “What?”

  “Suzette’s cousin.” She tried to picture the girl in her head. “Thin, blonde, bitchy. Just like Suzette. She was there at the house when we went to rescue Brett.”

  He frowned, his eyes a mask of concern. “Where did you see her?”

  “She passed right near my school. I was taking care of a few things and she just walked by.” Layla shrugged. “So I followed her.”

  “Did you see where she went?”

  She shook her head. “No, she caught me before I could figure out where she was going.”

  Martin was thoughtful as he looked out into the twilight. “Do you think she tracked you and was actually looking for you?”

  That hadn’t occurred to her. It didn’t make sense, though. The girl had seemed pretty upset that Layla had followed her.

  “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “She seemed really pissed off that I saw her. My gut says she was not looking for me.”

  “Your gut instinct has helped you before. If you truly feel as if you were not her primary target, I will agree with you. Now, we have to figure out why she was near your school. We need to know if she knows Suzette’s hiding place or scouting for new Layla lookalikes?”

  He started the truck and eased out of the parking spot.

  “Where are we going now?” Layla asked.

  Martin gave her a sideways glance. “We’re headed to the police station. There is a warrant out for your arrest. Again.”

  *

  The officer shuffled the stack of papers in front of him and Layla gripped her hoodie more securely in her lap. She refused to put it on, even though the room was freezing.

  “Ms. Donovan, you are becoming a regular to our establishment. Twenty nine years of nothing, now three appearances in less than one month. Makes one suspicious.”

  Layla glared at the obnoxious detective sitting across from her. She and Martin had walked into the police station and asked to speak with his friend who worked at this particular precinct. Unfortunately, Officer I’m-a-Jackass got to her first.

  “Wow. You are suspicious of me because women who look like me are being killed.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m doing, killing off the competition.”

  He leaned forward, a warning glint in his eyes. “Watch your tone, young lady. You are in enough trouble as it is.”

  She frowned. “How could I be in any trouble? I was not anywhere near those woman, I have no clue who they are and I have alibis.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You could threaten me all you want, but I am not an idiot. I know what I did and I know my rights. And if you insist on treating me like a criminal, I will simply have to get a lawyer.”

  “Innocent people don’t get lawyers,” he said with a smirk.

  Layla looked him unwaveringly. “Stupid people don’t get lawyers.”

  The door banged open and a man who looked surprisingly similar to Martin walked through.

  “Stop harassing my CI.”

  The officer straightened and back off. “Sir? Your CI?” He looked back at Layla. “She doesn’t look like a confidential informant.”

  “That’s the point.” The new guy plunked a folder down on the table as he waited for the idiot to leave.

  Layla barely resisted the urge to smile as the other officer walked out with an exaggerated swagger.

  The new officer rolled his eyes at his colleague’s attempt at intimidation. “Water?”

  She shook her head.

  He shrugged. “Martin asked me to give you a message; he’ll meet you back here in about an hour. That’ll give us plenty of time to get acquainted.” The folder he held in his hands had the word ‘confidential’ written across it in big, bold letters as he opened it.

  “Alright Ms. Donovan. It seems you were arrested last month for theft, but then the charges were dropped when your alibi checked out.” He flipped a page. “It also seems we had you in here to give us insight into the grisly murders last month at the college. And now we need to talk to you about these four murdered women.”

  He pulled a stack of photos out of the folder and spread them over the table. “Do you recognize any of these women?”

  Layla looked at the photos. They were the same ones that were shown on the news earlier. She shook her head. “No. Sorry.”

  The Detective sighed. “Do you know of any reason someone might be trying to get back at you? An angry ex-boyfriend mixed up in something he shouldn’t be, stuff like that.”

  She shook her head again. Just like last time, she was not about to confess about a world of werewolves and other monsters who went bump in the night.

  Closing the folder, he gave her a long look. “Look, I don’t know what is going on yet, but it seems as if this is all centering on you. Someone framed you, but we never caught them. Your neighbors were killed and even though we trapped a few dogs and a cougar, my gut is telling me we didn’t catch the animal that killed those people. Now we have a serial killer on the loose targeting women who look like you. The FBI is arriving tomorrow and many women are scared they could be next.”

  She remained mute. This is what she had feared all along. That more innocent people would get caught in the middle of this war. That more innocent people would die. It wasn’t enough that Suzette had killed her former boss, her neighbor and his girlfriend, now complete strangers, only connected to her by random gene variation, were dying. She knew she should say something, she wanted to say something, but the police couldn’t handle Were business. They could barely handle their business.

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what is going on,” she lied, although it was closer to the truth than she cared to admit. She really had no idea what was going on or who was doing the killing but she had a pretty good idea why.

  He stared at her a few minutes longer, the silence telling, then stood up and pulled a car
d out of his jacket. “If you remember anything, even if you don’t think it’s related, give me a call and let me know.” A pleased look flitted across his face when she pocketed it.

  “You are free to go.”

  Layla grabbed her hoodie and walked out of the interrogation room and into the main lobby of the police precinct where she waited for Martin to be done with whatever he was doing, her mind intent on simply getting out of that place.

  *

  Brett was still not home by the time Layla got back. She checked her messages, surprised that she had no missed calls or text messages from him. She dialed his number and frowned when it went straight to voicemail. What the fuck? It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust Brett, but the last time he didn’t call her, he was tied to a chair in Suzette’s house and her pack was drinking his blood like he was a keg on tap. It made her feel helpless if something was to happen to him again because of her.

  She walked out to the living room where her aunt was seated watching a game show with Nali and she kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Hey, have you seen Brett?”

  Susan looked up. “No, hon. He hasn’t called you?”

  Layla shook her head. “And my calls are going straight to voicemail.” She chewed her bottom lip. “He didn’t tell you where he was going, did he?” she asked hopefully and silently groaned when her aunt shook her head.

  The older woman patted the couch next to her. “He’s a grown man, Layla. He can take care of himself. If he has his phone turned off, I am sure it’s for a good reason.”

  She nodded but didn’t sit. Her stomach was churning. Martin had been encouraging her to listen to her gut and it was telling her something was wrong. She didn’t know if it was Brett or if something was going to happen to her, but she felt almost ill. Leaning against the wall, her mind was a million miles away when her aunt spoke again.

  “So, did you get everything with school straightened out?”

  “Except for one class, I got independent research study.” She shrugged. “Basically, I have to research a topic in the subject area and write a paper about it. A very long, detailed paper.” She straightened as she heard Martin in the kitchen.

  “Sounds like you are on the right track.” Susan looked towards the kitchen. “Go and ask Martin. I can see you are chomping at the bit to ask about Brett.” She turned back to her show.

  Layla raced to the kitchen. Martin sat with a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

  “Before you ask, he did not tell me where he was going. He simply said he needed to research something and that he will be back in a few days. He tried to call you but I guess you didn’t answer.” Martin shrugged. “That’s it.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  “When you were at the station. He called me and asked for the name of one of my contacts at the Smithsonian.”

  Layla frowned. The Smithsonian? What the hell was Brett up to? She walked back to her room. And how the hell did she miss his call?

  She barely slept that night, tossing and turning; her stomach in knots, her bed too big and too empty without Brett. The sun was barely rising when she woke and padded to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Martin was in the same seat she had left him in the night before.

  “Still not back?” he asked.

  It was rhetorical. Martin’s hearing and sense of smell was far better than hers andas far as she could tell, he had stayed up all night, perhaps waiting for Brett himself. She tried to put her fears of Brett out of her mind but her head kept replaying the dream where Suzette had bit him.

  *

  Even though she had gotten up early, somehow she still arrived late to class. She had dallied, subconsciously waiting for Brett, even calling his phone a few more times and cursed in frustration when each call was forwarded to voicemail. Anger started to replace her concern and fear and instead of hoping he was okay, she was wishing him to hell.

  She gripped her jacket tighter around her body and balanced her coffee cup in one hand as she exited the cab. Since she was trying to stay under the radar, showing up in Brett’s car was a sure way to stand out on her college campus.

  The hallways were bustling with students trying to finish last minute assignments before Thanksgiving break in less than a few weeks. Everywhere she looked were signs of the holidays; paper cut-outs of turkeys, pumpkins and pilgrim hats adorned almost every wall of the school and the community outside. Even her local coffee shop was advertising their holiday pumpkin and spice coffee, which she had graciously declined this morning when she’d purchased her regular brew.

  The Gateways Mentoring office was empty as she walked through the glass doors and the receptionist welcomed her with a wave.

  “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

  Layla waved back. “It’s going great. You?” She smiled as she walked up to the girl who was pantomiming shooting herself in the head. “I was told yesterday that I could test out of the GT program and that I was to come here to get the computer test code.”

  The receptionist frowned. “No one left a computer code, just a note.” She handed a slim, white envelope to Layla.

  She tore it open and unfolded a letter from her professor.

  “Layla,” it read, “I am so sorry to do this to you, but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to test out until after midterms. GT policy clearly states this and it is in your contract. I will be happy to allow you to test out when we return from Thanksgiving break, but in the meanwhile I need to peer you with a new student.

  Your other mentee, Brett Guzman, withdrew from the college, so to maintain your standing as a mentor I will have you work with Ray Johnson. He is a great guy and I know you two will get along. He is former military and needs advice about which classes he should take to accomplish his chosen degree and adjusting to campus life. Thanks so much.”

  Layla bit back a frustrated groan and wished that she could simply test out of the course and call it a day. She had looked forward to being able to get off campus and stay hidden. Now she would have to meet with some random guy, who could quite possibly get in her way or worse, hurt. At least, if he was okay with it, they could arrange to meet once a week instead of the required three days. Either way, she would have to show up to campus to log her hours.

  The receptionist smiled wryly at her. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was a surprise. I’ve got more bad news, I’m afraid,” she said as Layla turned towards the entrance to leave. “He’s already here waiting for you.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  The other girl shook her head. “No. Sorry. He is in the conference room.” She leaned towards Layla, her lips curved into a wide smile. “At least he’s cute.”

  With a resigned sigh, Layla nodded and accepted the folder the receptionist handed her. She shoved it into her purse as she walked towards the conference room. Cute or not, hopefully if she explained the situation, he would understand and would be willing to work with her on the modifications to their schedule.

  She chewed her lip as she thought about what she would do if he was unwilling to follow her lead; after all he was former military and from her experience with Martin, they could be quite stubborn. It would suck, but she would have to deal with it.

  Pushing open the door, she stopped short. The receptionist was right. The guy was gorgeous. He sat reclined in the seat, one ankle resting lightly on one knee. His dark jeans highlighted the dark of his hair and he wore a polo shirt with the collar flipped up while his hair was trimmed low on the sides with a faux Mohawk going on in the middle. He looked like a certified rule-breaking badass. A sexy as hell rule-breaking badass.

  Layla walked over to him, her purse banging against her torso and reached out a hand, blushing when she realized it was the hand that held her coffee cup. “Sorry, I’m Layla,” she said, quickly laying her cup on the large table. “I’m your new mentor.”

  He smiled at her, a slow grin that made heat pool low in her belly. “Ray.”

  His voice was gravelly an
d deep and her knees felt weak. She was embarrassed by her response to him. Not that she was around gorgeous men every day, but she’d seen enough to know that he was not the cutest and she had never had this reaction; not to mention her boyfriend who had went through hell for her. What was wrong with her?

  She met his brown eyes and smiled again. “Um…well, let’s see. I’m supposed to get you settled, right?”

  He shrugged lazily, “I don’t know, you tell me.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she sighed at how inept she sounded. “Sorry, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet, but, first things first. Let’s take a look at your schedule.”

  Pulling out the copy from the folder she had been given, her eyes brow rose slightly. He was enrolled in all of her classes. It was eerie, but she did have a lot of freshman classes, she scolded herself silently, secretly glad she was doing the independent research study. Based on her response to him, she just didn’t know if she would be able to handle seeing him every day, she thought, as she met his eyes and smiled.

  Her stomach churned; she was being bad. She was virtually cheating on Brett. Just because some cute—gorgeous—guy walked into a room with his sexy brown eyes and dark brown hair and big muscles, oh my, didn’t mean she had to fall in lust.

  She shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry, still a tad sleepy. Long night.”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “No worries,” he said, his eyes piercing. “I like the view.”

  Layla blushed. Okay, he had game as well. Damn. This was going to be a tough couple of weeks, she thought as she tried to shake off the uneasiness which seemed to permeate the room.

  *

  Brett stared at the old house in front of him. It was still painted the grotesque gray-green he had hated even as a kid. The red cedar tree in the front yard added to the contrast and he held fond memories of playing in it with his cousins. He released a steadying breath. It wasn’t as if he was not happy to be here, it was just that the last time he was here, it wasn’t under the best of terms and the last twelve hours had been hell since he had to travel all the way back home to North Carolina.