Five Moons Rising

by Lise MacTague

  The cool, gray day had naturally turned into a chilly drizzling evening. Mary Alice glanced around. She knew she probably looked strange, a woman by herself on a bench under a lamppost in the middle of deserted park. Dead leaves littered the pavement in front of her, pasted to the concrete by the rain. There wasn’t enough wind to peel them free, and for that she was glad enough. The river glinted at her through the trees, reflecting lights from the other side. She had no indication of anyone else in the park; everything was quiet and still. Occasionally, she’d catch movement as a raccoon or other wildlife rustled by in the undergrowth, but that was it.

  Another rustle drew her attention, and she turned her head to glance at a nearby set of bushes. A coyote stood between two shrubs almost devoid of leaves. It watched her cautiously, recognizing another predator. There were probably others nearby. Mary Alice wasn’t too worried. Coyotes would have to be very hungry indeed to risk attacking her. It would take an extremely large and coordinated pack to be truly threatening.

  “Communing with nature?” A man’s voice issued from outside the ring of light.

  “Something like that.” Mary Alice kept her voice light through the ease of years of practice. Truth was, “Uncle Ralph” made her acutely uncomfortable.

  He stepped forward into the light, watching her as he moved in to sit next to her. As usual, a slight smile lurked on his face. She didn’t like feeling like he was laughing at her, but she also wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under her skin.

  A man of middle years, he had a gut that strained at his shirt. The cheap suit screamed federal agent to anyone with even rudimentary skills of observation. He didn’t carry a badge and no longer belonged to any branch of law enforcement, but a lifetime of habits had been impossible to break.

  “Coffee?” Ralph handed her a paper cup that steamed in the cool night air. The ubiquitous mermaid logo decorated the side.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Mary Alice accepted the offering and took a sip. The only time she drank coffee was with him. Her heightened metabolism made short work of the caffeine and it had very little effect on her. She still loved the flavor though. If she was going to have to put up with his company, she might as well indulge herself.

  “There’s been no fallout from your last takedown. That spiky bastard’s body wasn’t discovered. The city demo’ed the building yesterday, so you’re golden on that one.”

  The smile on Mary Alice’s face felt stiff. “I told you it would be fine.”

  “You still should have disposed of the body.”

  “I saw no sign of other residents. You know humans don’t like to be near supras. The homeless population cleared out long before I took care of the sick bastard.”

  Irritated, Ralph waved his cup of coffee in her direction. “I didn’t call you out here to rehash your latest crap judgment.”

  No shit, but it still doesn’t stop you from harping on it. “I figured. So what’s up that you couldn’t wait to see me? I had to cut short dinner with my mom and sister, you know.”

  “Sorry.” He wasn’t really. She knew it and he knew she knew. Her continued relationship with her family was another bone of contention between them. All her counterparts had either completely severed ties with their families or hadn’t had any family to begin with. Of course, most of her counterparts were either psychotic or neck-deep in substance abuse. If it wasn’t for Cassidy and Sophia, Mary Alice was fairly certain she would be right there with them.

  “The North Side lycan pack has a new Alpha.”

  She blinked at him, startled. Of all the news he could have dropped in her lap, this was some of the most unanticipated. That pack of werewolves was as stable as they came. A few other packs called the Chicago metro area home, but none were as large or as well established. She’d broken up more than a few packs over the years, but the North Side pack wasn’t one she’d ever expected to have to worry about.

  “What happened to Dean, their old Alpha?”

  “I doubt he survived the transfer of power.” Ralph’s mouth twisted and he took a long draw on his coffee. “The furries moved out of the hotel, but I don’t know where the new den is. I need you to track them down and check on the new Alpha. Let me know if he’ll need to be taken out.”

  “And if the whole pack is affected?” It was a very real possibility. A lycan pack’s Alpha was more than a leader or figurehead. The Alpha was a source of power, but more than that, he or she was the soul of the pack. Dean was about as decent a supranormal as could be found, which was why Mary Alice had never worried about the North Siders. He was strong, too. He wouldn’t have gone down easily. If whoever had taken over was strong enough to keep the position, they could influence the pack in some very dark directions. Most of the members wouldn’t be strong enough to strike out on their own and would fall in with whatever schemes the new Alpha had planned.

  “If you think the pack is too far gone, you’ll have to take them all out or scatter them at the very least.” Ralph took another sip of his coffee and paused, wiping a dribble out of his stubble. “If you don’t think you can handle them, let me know and I’ll call in reinforcements.”

  “Sounds good.” It would be a cold day in hell before she would submit to his version of reinforcements. Either she would end up with some black ops commando group who didn’t know their ass from their elbows when it came to dealing with supras or he would bring in one of her former squadmates. The clueless commandos would be the better of the two options. She would never hear the end of it if she had to suffer help from one of the others.

  “Good. Contact me as soon as you have something to report.”

  “Will do.” Mary Alice stood, leaving the coffee behind. The first few sips had been good, but the news had soured her outlook and the coffee. She turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Malice?”

  Mary Alice glanced at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifted in silent query.

  “Try to be a little more careful with your new phone number. That was sloppy as hell.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked away. Why the little shit insisted on baiting her, she didn’t know. If she ever really lost it, she could tear him limb from limb, and he knew it. He’d been present for their creation and training; almost all the handlers had. A few of them hadn’t lasted long and those they’d handled had disappeared without trace or explanation. Her hands twitched as she fantasized about breaking his neck. It wasn’t the first time she’d indulged in the daydream, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

  Now was not the time to be distracted by the little man. She had a job to do. Her pace picked up as she ran through her options. There was only one place to start: the pack’s old den, the hotel. If that didn’t pan out, there were other possibilities, though she hesitated to exercise them.

  Chapter Six

  “I want to see Carla.” Malice stared up at the hulking bouncer protecting the door. The man’s head disappeared into his shoulders without the benefit of a neck. She’d rarely seen anyone so big, but she could tell by the way he held himself that the appearance of fat was deceptive. He might be grossly overweight, but there was muscle under the flab.

  Beside her, a line of hopefuls waited behind a velvet rope to get into Faint. The nightclub was the preeminent nightspot in the area. It inhabited the space on the border between two neighborhoods in much the same way it straddled the line between the regular world and the shadow world. Normal people got to feel the frisson of fear that came with venturing into areas normally forbidden to them. Patrons of a darker sort didn’t have to worry about the kind of scrutiny that would have come with living in a better area. The neighbors kept to themselves and did their best not to bring the cops down on their heads.

  “She isn’t in.” The bouncer didn’t even look at her. An obscenely long stretch limo pulled up to the front of the nightclub, and he moved toward it.

  “She’s in for me.” Malice grabbed his arm and held on with little effort. The bo
uncer looked down, surprised, and tried to extricate himself from her grasp.

  “What the hell?” His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated. The black swallowed iris and cornea alike, leaving only a thin outline of white around the pits of his pupils.

  She pulled him down and spoke directly into his ear. “Control yourself.” Mary Alice emphasized her words with a hard squeeze. That much pressure would have broken a human’s arm, snapping at least one if not both of the bones in the forearm. As it was, he grunted in surprise and looked at her, this time really seeing who stood in front of him.

  So far, those standing in line had only seen them in quiet conversation. If the vampire pushed it, she wasn’t sure how far she would go, but she was willing to bet he wouldn’t risk exposing the truth to such a large crowd.

  “Malice.” Her name was a hiss over his teeth. She could barely make out the tips of his canines where they’d extended through their sheaths. Interestingly, his pupils returned to their regular size. His extended teeth suggested he was interested in feeding, but he no longer considered her a threat. She would need to remind them all exactly what she was.

  “In the flesh.” She squeezed his arm again, twisting slightly. She could feel his bones shift and his eyes bled into darkness again. Far better to have him frightened of her than excited. “I will see Carla.”

  “Of course.” His small smile exposed the tips of his fangs again. “For you…always.” Reaching behind him, he unhooked the velvet rope that ran in front of the door. Malice could feel the weight of watchful eyes upon her. The hopefuls in line wondered who she was to gain access to the club. She wasn’t on the list, and unlike them, she hadn’t dressed to impress. The black cargo pants and tight sweater covered by the charcoal gray duster stuck out among the glitz and glamour of the would-be clubbers. Where they glittered and sparkled, she absorbed light.

  The dark colors hid the stains she’d picked up when investigating and burying the lycan bodies she’d found at the hotel. Whoever had taken over the North Side pack had no interest in hiding his existence. Ralph wouldn’t be happy about that. He also wouldn’t be happy that she had no idea where the pack had gone.

  She smoothed her hands over her thighs as she walked up the shallow stairs. The doors opened before her. Each was held by a young woman dressed in next to nothing. They smiled vacantly at her and Malice suppressed a shudder. She was never certain how much the human employees at Faint knew about their boss.

  Carla Sangre, born Angela Stepowitz, was what passed as the head of the supranormal community of Chicago. The daughter of a cobbler, she’d built up enough of a reputation as an artist that a mysterious benefactor had invited her to Italy to study. She’d come back a completely different person, no longer human, and had moved to Chicago. In one way or another, her presence had shaped the city for more than a century.

  As Malice moved beyond the doors, a wall of sound washed over her and, beneath it, a seductive bass beat throbbed. Flashing lights and gyrating bodies caught her attention and she glanced onto the dance floor where humans swayed, jumped and danced to the music’s frantic tempo. The energy they gave off was almost palpable. Malice inhaled, feeling their life force move through her. How long had it been since she’d danced? It was something she’d loved doing in high school. She and her friends had snuck into this or that club, not caring if they were caught. It had been somewhere to blow off steam, to hook up and to dodge the responsibilities of home and school, if only for a while.

  On catwalks above the dancing throng, men and women lounged while gazing down on the seething mass of humanity. Malice would have been willing to bet that one and all owed their allegiance to Carla. Basking in the life essence that came from the dancers was likely a reward of sorts.

  It was also an effective way to keep them in line. Vampires were only barely tolerated by her employers. Any vamp who was accused of drinking from an unwilling host would find her on their doorstep. Since supranormals didn’t officially exist, they weren’t entitled to due process. The slightest infraction was a capital offense and Malice was their executioner. There might be forty-some capital offenses for humans, but supras had to worry about at least twice as many. Or they would if they knew about them. Those weren’t cataloged anywhere but had been handed down to Malice and her peers by their handlers.

  From the catwalk, the vamps kept hungry eyes on their prey. As much as Malice knew about how they hunted, she still wasn’t sure how they selected their hosts. Vamps who knew what they were doing invariably selected someone who was open to their advances. Was it a pheromone thing, or could they read minds? She preferred to think it had to do with body chemistry, but she suspected that was not the case.

  She skirted the dance floor and headed around the club’s periphery. Dozens of vampires inhabited the building and her skin prickled at their proximity. Keeping to the wall cut down on at least one avenue for attack. Eyes dark with menace followed her from all directions. They knew who she was. Malice never knew if they could feel her in the same way she could feel them. The cocktail that had been fed into her system had come from a variety of supras and she’d acquired her abilities from those she was tasked with taking down. Those abilities could have come from vampires, but her superiors would never tell. Whatever the cocktail had been, it had bordered on lethal.

  On the edges of the club, the crowd was lighter, but she still had to work her way through the throng. Vampires moved out of her way without any prompting, treating her like she had a contagious disease. Humans were much less perceptive. She was still human enough that the sense of other given off by most supranormals didn’t bother them. She had other ways to make sure humans respected her. She bared her teeth briefly and deftly split a group of human revelers who reeled across the hall, moving through the gap by force of will alone.

  The music was quieter out here. The carpeted floor and thick crimson wall hangings absorbed much of the sound. She could still feel the bass through the soles of her feet, but her sensitive hearing was already acclimating. She practically felt her ears twitch at the first mention of her name.

  “Shit, is that Malice?” The first voice held a mixture of fear and anticipation. Other murmured comments held combinations of dread, anger, respect and excitement to various degrees.

  By the time she’d walked around to the back of the club, she was working hard to modulate her breathing and keep her heart rate down. She could show no weakness. To do so would invite an attack. None of Carla’s vamps were bold enough to take her on in front of all the humans who packed the building, but it would only take the smallest fraction of a second to drag her into a side room.

  The final obstacle en route to Chicago’s vampire lord was a long staircase. It was carpeted like the rest of the club’s back area and vamps lined the walls. It was this way every time she came in. Were they always there, just in case Carla might have some need for them, or did they gather because she was in the building? She gave no outward acknowledgment of their presence as she passed by. There was no sound on the stairs, neither rustle nor breath. The silence was oppressive and the vampires wielded it as a weapon. They never took their eyes from her and their heads turned slowly as she walked by them.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened as she came close. No one was near it. Vampires could move so fast that human eyes couldn’t track the movement, but her eyes weren’t human, not completely. It was just another trick to push her off balance. Undeath occasionally forced the manifestation of various powers in some vamps and Malice wished she knew which one was gifted with telekinesis. Having no way of knowing, she instead made a mental note of the vampires who watched her quietly from the stairs. It could have been any of them.

  The room through the doorway was dark, but her eyes had no problems picking out objects in the gloom. Her night vision might not be as good as a vamp’s, but she certainly wasn’t hampered by much short of pitch darkness.

  A large elaborate desk crouched at one end of the room. Behind it was an enor
mous wingback chair that was just short of being a leather throne on wheels. Carla wasn’t there. Malice turned slowly to survey the rest of the room. There was one vamp in the room; she could feel the creature like a barely perceptible pressure on her mind. It was definitely Carla, no other vampire she’d met could gentle their touch quite so much. Most vamps felt like the edge of a razor blade being dragged slowly across her skin. With Carla, the promise of pain was right there without any actual cutting.

  “Carla.” Malice kept her voice neutral.

  “Malice.” Carla drew out the last syllable of her name, hissing it softly into the darkness.

  Malice completed her turn and finally saw her, lounging indolently on a chaise longue in the room’s far corner. Carla sat, leaning on the chair’s arm, her shapely legs drawn up beneath her, pushing the skirt far up her thighs and baring a swath of skin so light it practically glowed in the darkness.

  “Come sit by me,” Carla said. She patted the end of the chaise in invitation.

  Malice licked her lips, then immediately wished she hadn’t. She was sure Carla had seen the involuntary movement, small though it was. There was a lush promise to Carla, but the vampire had never moved on it before.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice was harsh, betraying more of her discomfort than she’d intended. Carla’s lips stretched in a faint smile.

  “Don’t make me come to you.” Her voice was playful and the smile widened further, revealing dimples that always surprised Malice. Goose bumps pebbled her arms. As playful as Carla sounded, there was steel just below the surface and that steel had razor-sharp edges.

  Rather than sit right next to Carla, Malice chose instead to perch on the arm of the chaise. There was no way she would follow the vampire’s orders. She didn’t belong to the vamp, and she certainly wasn’t going to act like it.

  “So stubborn.” Carla trailed her fingertips over Malice’s thigh, her touch featherlight through her pants, but disturbing. The vampire’s presence wrapped around her, whispering to her, speaking of things to come, things that would burrow down inside her and make her experience ecstasy like she’d never felt before.