Harvest Moon

by C. L. Bevill

  With a great leap Emma joined the bird were on top of the cage. She looked back once and saw ten anxious faces staring at her. She growled again and followed the bird into the darkness.

  Chapter Six

  Wake not a sleeping cat. – French Proverb

  Wheeler stood at the small balcony off Emma’s room. He was reluctant to leave the area where her scent was strongest. He stared out at the mountains and thought about the past. It had taken three long months for Emma to come to the compound for the first time as an invited guest. Wheeler understood that she was very apprehensive. However, she had stalked the place with frightening intensity. Some of his weres were calling her ‘a ghost cat.’ A few of them wanted to take her down for her brashness. Wheeler was desperately amused. Privately he was somewhat perturbed by her single-minded concentration.

  Donovan had obtained the Belize police report and a translated copy sat on Wheeler’s desk. After he’d read it, he had thrown a chair through a window. The window had been antique glass and particularly difficult to replace but he hadn’t cared. The information contained in the statement made him boil with rage.

  Diminutive Emma Lucia hadn’t just been kidnapped. It had been worse. Then she had escaped. What was contained within the ten pages wasn’t as horrifying as what Wheeler read between the lines. An unknown ocelot were had deliberately attacked Emma. He had sought to make her a were and his mate. She had recuperated enough to be kidnapped by the same a few days after the primary assault. A photograph of a fourteen year old Emma revealed a girl who was bright and shining with joy. She grinned out of the studio setting as if her world was full of fairy dust and sparkling bits of gold. That was the ‘before’ shot. Wheeler couldn’t bring himself to look at the photographs that were taken of the girl who had stumbled out of the jungle eight weeks later.

  Even Donovan understood. There was a moment of rare understanding when his old friend checked on him. He’d heard the glass breaking and come to make sure it wasn’t something worse happening. Donovan had stood at the door and watched as papers were crushed in Wheeler’s hands. “She must have killed him in order to escape, if it makes a difference to you,” Donovan offered quietly.

  Wheeler snarled in response. Then he had controlled the beast within him. Savagely he’d forced it back so that he could speak without tearing something to bloody shreds. “Of course it matters. I can’t kill him now. Just for her.”

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Donovan said softly. “She’ll come to you.”

  “Are the females here safe?” Wheeler suddenly asked. It wasn’t something he’d considered beyond a cursory assumption. Not all of the weres were as physically adept as the Cat Warriors.

  “Safe?” Donovan repeated. “I suppose. They could use some more self-defense courses. They need to understand how to use their were advantages in an intense situation. We’re not an army here. We’re more like a co-op.”

  “Make it so,” Wheeler said. Then a thought occurred to him. An optimistic, anticipative thought. “Ask Emma how she would do it.”

  “You trust me to speak with…Emma?” Donovan said incredulously.

  Wheeler nodded grudgingly. “I’ll trust you not to touch her.” Or I’ll rip your hands off of your body and throw them up the mountain for the coyotes.

  “Okay, but this would be a good opportunity for you to win her trust,” Donovan said and he almost laughed at the frustration on Wheeler’s face.

  “I’m not certain I can speak with Emma on this subject without…” he trailed off.

  “Becoming angry,” Donovan finished. “And she won’t know that you’re not angry with her.”

  “Never her,” Wheeler vowed.

  “How long have we been friends, Christopher?” Donovan asked and Wheeler didn’t reply. So he went on, “You should do it. It would be better from you.”

  The very next day Wheeler managed to get Emma on the phone. He called a pre-paid phone number that she’d acquired. She was only mildly annoyed that it was him on the other end of the line.

  “Mr. Wheeler,” Emma said and he could have sighed.

  “Just Wheeler,” he said entreatingly, “or Christopher, if you’d prefer.”

  “Fine. I didn’t give you this number and your people are still watching me,” Emma said politely. He knew that at that moment she was waiting on a martial arts class at the ‘Y.’ He smiled on his end of the phone. “But they’re getting better,” she added. “I haven’t smelled anyone for a week.”

  “Good.” Wheeler enjoyed his repartees with the Emma who wasn’t afraid of him. Increasingly, she had become more confident that he was exactly who he had said and that the Cat Clan was exactly what it presented itself as. She was more relaxed than she had been. She didn’t feel threatened by his awareness of her because she didn’t realize that his interest was something other than casual. If she knew what bounced around his brain about her, she would probably run away screaming. It was at that point that he knew that it was going to take a long time for Emma to be where she needed to be. The mating connection was a once in a lifetime event for a were. Most weres only had one mate and they knew to take advantage of the situation.

  And more importantly, he knew at that moment that not only could he wait, but that he would wait. “I need you,” he said deliberately. Emma sputtered into the phone and Wheeler restrained his laughter.

  “It’s dawned on me that our members need more training. Specifically the females need to be better prepared about self-defense.” Wheeler stopped and let Emma process that.

  “Because of what happened to me?” she finally asked and her voice was cautiously neutral.

  “Yes, and because all women need to be able to protect themselves, especially in our society.”

  Emma was silent for a moment. Wheeler didn’t know whether to kick Donovan or to thank him for the suggestion. Her pause went on so long that he started to think she had hung up. Then she said, “You want self-defense classes for your female members?”

  “I want you to arrange it,” Wheeler said. “I think you would be best suited for choosing the right methods and trainers. After all, you’ve had years to consider the matter.”

  “At the compound,” Emma went on warily.

  “Yes,” he agreed. Then he crossed his fingers.

  “You know I’m a beginner,” Emma said. Wheeler smiled.

  “I know,” he said. “I don’t expect you to train them. I want you to arrange the best training for the weres I have, especially the females. All expenses will be paid by the Clan.”

  There was another pause where Emma was plainly working out details in her head. “You want me to bring a human or more than one onto your stomping grounds?”

  Wheeler said simply, “Yes. We’ll work it out.”

  “Tell me what days and times work for your people,” Emma finally said and Wheeler could have cheered. Telling Emma that she was needed was the key that turned the very first lock that would open her to him.

  And in the present, Donovan spoke to Wheeler from behind him as he watched the mountains without actually seeing them. “There are several reports of other were kidnappings. We’ve reached out in a way that we’ve never done before. There’s a bird clan who talked about losing one of its females. There’s a report of several wolves from Canada that are missing. There are some tigers gone from India. A snow tiger from Nepal. Then there’s the New York weres. If I had to guess it seems as though some other group was seeking out weres of different types for some as yet unknown reason. No one has escaped that we know about.”

  “Does anyone have any suspicions?” Wheeler asked serenely. Inside he was anything but serene.

  “A human group of mercenaries,” Donovan said. “So far there’s no identification on the dead pair from Cherry Creek Park. But we’re still working on it. There’s got to be something that this group missed. They can’t be completely invisible.”

  “They’re hiring from somewhere,” Wheeler said and his teeth were grinding tog
ether in the rage that never seemed to be far away from him. “Who hires mercs? Who looks for rogue weres? What about Martinez?”

  “There’s a Mexican Clan who has information about him,” Donovan said. “It was minimal. He left them years ago and hasn’t maintained contact.”

  Wheeler smiled coldly. “Fly to them. Bring the first squad of your Warriors. Find Martinez’s family. His parents. His sister. His brother. His wife. His child.” He turned away from the mountains and Donovan was glad that Isabella was researching mercenary groups in the library far away. Wheeler’s eyes glowed with golden fury. “Bring them to me.”

  “You want us to kidnap his people,” Donovan said. It wasn’t something that Wheeler had ever considered before. “The Mexican Clan could be very angry.”

  “Their numbers are insignificant and they’re not a threat. Furthermore, I don’t want them hurt. Not one hair on their heads. You better feel me on that,” Wheeler said. “But I want them here. I want them in our house under my aegis. I want that clan to understand that no one fucks with the Colorado Cat Clan. And more precisely, no one fucks with my mate.”

  Wheeler looked at the mountains and thought about all the progress he’d made with Emma and how he might never get to touch her soft flesh again. “When they understand that,” he said softly, “they’ll find a way to tell Martinez.”

  His cell phone chirped. Wheeler brought it up, looking at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number but he knew the voice very well.

  •

  At an intersection, Emma put the cell phone on the bottom of the dusty ventilation duct and systematically sniffed. The bird were called Xandra fluttered to a stop. She was having problems flying in the narrow conduit. Emma was crouching to make it through without bumping her head or shoulders. Neither one knew what was on the exterior of where they were and didn’t want to take a chance on one of their enemies hearing their escape.

  There was dust and lots of it. There was the aroma of old cooking and burned grease. There was faint cat musk that came from one direction. And there was the smell of pine in another. Fresh pine that comes from the sap of a tree. From the outside of this wretched place.

  Emma wasn’t stupid. The ventilation system wasn’t going to provide the pair with a ladder or an elevator. They would have to leave the vents soon and hoof it to a place where the phone would work. But one side of her wanted to follow the cat musk smell and see if it led to the captive male weres. They would put up more of a fight and the security forces would be divided while Emma made a run to call for the cavalry.

  If there was one thing that she knew, it was that Wheeler would come. All she had to do was to let him know where she was located. He would come. If what she knew about the New York Clan was accurate then they would come in droves, as well. Between the two clans there would be little left of the human group that had taken it upon themselves to hunt weres like animals.

  Xandra cooed impatiently. The bird were inched in the direction of the tree sap smell. She could smell freedom also and the bird were could fly up a shaft that Emma couldn’t climb.

  Emma made a decision. She transformed and elongated to human form. Her shoulders scraped against the walls and one arm was trapped against her side. She had the other one on the phone. Quickly she ascertained the readiness of the cell phone. She said quietly, “There’s still no signal, Xandra. Go, go and fly out. Find a house or a town and a phone. Swear you’ll call Clan Industries in Grant, Colorado. Tell them what happened. Tell them to call the New York Clan too. They’ll come for the rest of us.”

  The bird were nodded solemnly. She glanced at the phone and shook her head. The avian were’s shape wasn’t strong enough to carry the phone, even if she’d had a place to put it. A moment later and there was the diminishing sound of fluttering wings.

  “I could have been a bird were,” Emma whispered thoughtfully.

  Emma heard the boom of the three shots and three round holes abruptly appeared beside her head. Light from below shone in. She forced herself to change with all of the speed she could muster but the remnants of the drug she had been shot with and days of little rest had caught up with her.

  The next shot caught her in her thigh mid-change. Emma stifled the scream in her throat. They’re using silver bullets. Oh, Christ.

  Chapter Seven

  A lame cat is better than a swift horse when rats infest the palace. – Proverb

  “You’ve been looking for me,” the voice said.

  “Martinez,” Wheeler said frigidly. He’d heard the voice on the tape that the Eurasian lynx had made of Emma’s call. He’d listened to it a hundred times since then trying to find any clues to their identities and whereabouts.

  “Si,” the man on the other end said.

  “You’ve taken something that doesn’t belong to you,” Wheeler said precisely. His voice was like shattered granite. If he could have reached through the phone and peeled the flesh from the were’s bones he would have done it without hesitation.

  “You mean the little ocelot,” Martinez mused. “She didn’t smell of your scent. How was I to know that she was yours.”

  “And the other one,” Wheeler said.

  “Poca Sage,” Martinez said curiously. “Not yours. I turned her. She’s all mine. I told your little kitty that I would keep that one for myself.”

  Donovan was listening. He could hear Martinez just as though the were was speaking to him personally. He quickly jotted a message on a pad and showed it to Wheeler: We’ll get his family. Don’t threaten him yet.

  Wheeler nodded. “I want Emma back. You’ll tell me where she is.”

  Martinez paused on the other end of the line, ruminating. “It occurs to me that in allowing your Emma to make her phone call that you know more about me than was advisable.”

  “It should occur to you.”

  “The Colorado Cat Clan has a long reach,” Martinez said. “There was the incident with the Whitelaw werewolves. It seems as though a great number of them simply vanished and it has been attributed to the Cat Clan.”

  “Bad things happen to bad people,” Wheeler said ambiguously. “It’s a trite statement but true nonetheless. It’s applicable to our kind. Bad things also happen to bad weres.”

  “There were two incidents with the Whitelaws,” Martinez said contemplatively. “One involved dragons, elves, and black magicks. Your reach seems longer than I would have initially imagined.”

  Martinez was clearly not afraid of being traced through his phone call. There was an actual number listed on the Caller ID. It wouldn’t be difficult to find out where it originated from. “We’ve made alliances with all kinds of otherworlders,” Wheeler said, hoping that Martinez was clever enough to understand the vast threat against him. “Some of your blood was left at Cherry Creek Lake.”

  Blood was used in various magicks and could be readily used against Martinez if Wheeler wanted to call in favors. He’d been considering doing just that.

  “Various friends in Mexico have called me recently,” Martinez said, ignoring the menace. “There have been questions about me. It occurs to me that you might take the theft of your were very personally.”

  “It is personal,” Wheeler acknowledged.

  “A deal perhaps?” Martinez suggested.

  “What deal?”

  “I keep Sage,” he said smoothly. Martinez had been thinking about the potential threats against him. It meant that there were people in Mexico that could be used as bait or bargaining material. “I give you back Emma Lucia.”

  Wheeler knew that Emma would be furious with him for making such a deal. More precisely she would use some of those pretty German knives on parts of his anatomy. The deal would bring unwelcome reminders of her time spent in a Central American jungle with a were who wanted her only as chattel. She would rather cut her own throat than have it done to another female were and especially one that she was trying to bring into the fold.

  “A counter offer,” Wheeler said just as smoothly. “You’
ll give me both women back and I’ll allow you to live with all your limbs intact.” He couldn’t speak for the other Clans. They would want to find their missing weres or find the were who was responsible for their disappearances.

  “Emma said she would remember me,” Martinez said without comment on the intimidation. “Something about shredding my face and sticking knives into my eyes.”

  “Emma’s got a very good memory,” Wheeler stated stonily. “But my memory is longer. I won’t forget you. You’ll be looking over your shoulder every minute for the rest of your life.”

  Martinez was silent. Finally, he said, “The money wasn’t that good. Dealing with humans leaves a bad taste, no?”

  “Where. Is. She?” Wheeler was beginning to lose the tiny modicum of patience he had left.

  “Wyoming,” Martinez said.

  “And you? Where are you?”

  “Los Angeles for the moment,” Martinez said promptly. “I won’t be here long. There’s no point in calling the California Clan. I won’t leave any trace. That interesting chemical spray your scientific community developed has been available for months on the black market. A pity I didn’t think to use it in the park in Aurora. You see, I didn’t have all the information that I should have had about your Clan…then. My mistake.”

  Wheeler indicated the notepad and pen that Donovan held. He wrote: Call the Alpha, Hawthorne, in LA. Tell him about Martinez. Donovan nodded and vanished down the hallway.

  “Where in Wyoming is Emma?” Wheeler asked calmly.

  “There’s a very small town called Valley near Yellowstone,” Martinez said gravely. “There was a military base there about fifty years ago before they realized how unstable the area was geologically. The private group uses the facility as their base. Most of the station is underground and rotten with tunnels. Their security is adequate.”