Five Moons Rising

by Lise MacTague

  There was no thunder of gunshot, no acrid smell of gunpowder. As she ran up the stairs three at a time, she wondered what that could mean. Whoever was after her apparently wanted her alive, but why? Her breath caught in her throat. That it wasn’t death in store for her frightened her. Death was final, but capture and possible torture could go on for eternity. Ugly rumors floated around about what happened to those who were captured by shadowy figures in black body armor. She hadn’t checked too closely, but she didn’t think there was any body armor on the person who was chasing her. That had to be a good thing, right?

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs after her and Ruri cursed her weakened state. Days of malnourishment and the incomplete recovery from her shoulder injury worked against her. Her thighs burned and felt heavier with each stride. She couldn’t afford to slow down, but her traitorous human body wasn’t giving her much choice. The wolf scrabbled at the underside of her skin, demanding to be let out with sharp claws and teeth that worried at her bones.

  She didn’t have time to change. Even at her best, the change wasn’t instantaneous. Right now, she didn’t have the precious seconds it would take to shift from human to wolven. She pushed the wolf down as she ran, her pursuer drawing ever closer. Footsteps echoed behind her, pushing her until she couldn’t run any faster. Ruri wasn’t going to be able to get out of this through speed alone. She had to fall back on cunning.

  The best way out was the roof. From there, she would have options, but she was under no illusions that she could beat her unknown attacker there. On the fourth floor, she stiff-armed her way through the door, which clattered noisily as it swung crazily behind her. Ruri dashed down the hall and ducked into the first room with an open door. She looked around wildly, scanning for somewhere to hide. The room was empty of furniture; whoever had been staying here had gone with MacTavish. Out of options, she fled to the bathroom.

  The footsteps stopped when they reached the hallway. As she stood in the bathtub, tearing off her clothes, Ruri listened hard, trying to tell where her pursuer was. She went down on all fours and dropped the barriers in her mind. Her wolf rushed into her and she spasmed. Her teeth clenched on the howl of agony that threatened to burst free as her bones snapped and reformed, as muscles were rent and stretched beyond all recognition. The change was as fast as she could manage under the circumstances. From the way it was progressing, it would only be a matter of seconds before she was completely transformed. Her gums stretched and ruptured and long teeth forced their way into her elongated mouth. She panted at the exertion and spread her paws, claws seeking out purchase on the cold porcelain of the tub’s bottom.

  A soft click drew her attention and she whipped her head around in time to see the gun’s muzzle pointing at her. Ruri growled a warning and gathered herself to spring at the stupid interloper who threatened her in her own den. She snapped her teeth and lunged. The sharp little pain in her side wasn’t worth acknowledging; it wasn’t even enough to slow her down. She snagged the side of the tub and used it to launch herself at the idiotic human with its puny gun that couldn’t do more than annoy her. Two more pinpricks of pain followed in close succession, and she stretched forward, almost but not quite reaching her tormentor.

  The human was at the end of a long passageway, and Ruri could feel herself stretching out as she slid down the tunnel. The human was just out of reach of her claws and she whined in frustration. She was slowing down and the human was watching her, not moving but somehow drawing ever further away. Her eyelids were heavy and she was being dragged down into the floor. She whined again, trying not to give in, but it was no use.

  Malice stared down at the large wolf stretched out on the floor of the small room. Its chocolate brown pelt faded to a tawny golden color on its belly and legs; the same gold dappled its muzzle. Golden eyes had glared at her before rolling back into its skull from the powerful sedative overwhelming its system. One dart should have been enough to drop it; Malice had seen it work on bigger wolves. This one must be especially strong, that or incredibly driven.

  The eyes still stood out in her mind. She’d seen them before, but where? Mary Alice watched the slumbering werewolf for a moment before remembering. This was the female who’d been attacked by the furries at their new den, the furries she’d dispatched for attacking someone unprovoked. At least she knew they weren’t going to come looking for this one. The idea of taking one of the rogue Alpha’s wolves would have been even better, a satisfying way of giving the middle finger to the new Alpha. Still, this was infinitely more prudent. All she had to do now was get the wolf back to her place before it woke up.

  Lycan physiology was tricky. Even now, the female’s incredibly high metabolism would be burning through the drug in its bloodstream. Malice stepped forward and gingerly lifted one eyelid. The female’s golden eye was a tiny pinprick; it didn’t even twitch at the change in light.

  Malice pulled a couple of zip ties out of her pocket. Plastic ties of the variety the police carried would never stand up to the lycans’ incredible strength. These were reinforced with flexible titanium-alloy cores and were incredibly expensive. Uncle Ralph bitched every time she requisitioned more. He preferred she simply dispatch supras indiscriminately. When she had her choice, she preferred not to, but she had recently come to appreciate his position. If she got her hands on the usurper, she wouldn’t hesitate to end his sorry existence.

  The zip ties secured the wolf’s paws together, and she hefted the wolf over her back in a somewhat strange version of a fireman’s carry. Of course, a firefighter would have looked strange also, if they had to worry about their cargo gaining consciousness and ripping their throat out with its teeth.

  The wolf was heavy. Lycans retained their mass when they shifted and Malice thought this one must be around one hundred and thirty pounds. She was conscious of prominent bones beneath thick fur. Whatever this wolf’s story was, it had been through a lot. Ruthlessly, Malice quashed the sympathy that rose unbidden within her. To her, the beast had one purpose. Once it accomplished what Malice needed it would be free to go its own way. Maybe.

  By the time Malice got down to her truck, the wolf was already stirring feebly. Malice shoved it into the passenger side and belted it in. She opened the toolbox in the pickup’s bed and rummaged through it until she located a small satchel. All she needed were the wolfsbane and a syringe. Once the herb was in the female, it wouldn’t be able to fight off the sedative’s effects.

  Locating a vein in the wolf’s forepaw, she pushed in the wolfsbane solution. The herb took effect almost immediately. The fur pulled back in a wave; limbs straightened and its muzzle receded back into its face. Within moments, a naked female sat trussed up in her pickup. Malice didn’t have any clothing for it. She stared at it for a few seconds, trying not to notice its nudity. The female’s skin glowed almost golden, despite signs of ill-health. Its ribs were too prominent and the muscles along its body stood out starkly under its skin. Pale purple mottling marred the skin on one shoulder. They looked like the vestiges of deep bruising only now healing completely. Her gaze dropped down to the female’s chest before she looked away hastily, casting about the truck for something to cover it with, to no avail.

  The trench coat! Malice whipped it off her back in a hurry and draped it over the female’s body, hiding its disturbing nakedness. The missing corner rode up, giving her an uninterrupted view of the female’s thigh. Malice tucked the edge around its leg, hiding the distracting expanse of flesh. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, she cuffed the female to the door. The handle probably wouldn’t have held if the female had been aware, but now Malice would have some warning if it came to. The last trick was getting back to the loft with all possible speed, but without ending up catching the attention of an overly enthusiastic traffic cop.

  The ride home was one of the worst trips Malice had ever experienced. Worse had been the drive a few days previous to get Cassidy back to her loft, but this one was a close second. The solicitousness she fe
lt for her sister was translating to the female. What the female would be able to do for her sister, Malice wasn’t exactly certain, but she knew it was far better equipped to help than she was.

  Traffic was light at that hour and she managed to get home without getting pulled over or without having to fight off an enraged lycan in her truck while driving. For the first time in days, things were finally working out.

  She pulled into the first floor and stopped by the elevator. The slumbering female didn’t move when she opened the door. Malice tried to keep the trench coat draped around it as she carried the female in a bizarre approximation of a woman being taken over the threshold by her new husband. The thought was out of place and Malice shook her head, almost tripping as she stepped onto the freight elevator. She clutched her burden hard against her chest to keep from dropping her.

  The feeling of a woman in her arms wasn’t a new one, but she didn’t know that she’d ever touched someone in this way. It felt like she was cradling the woman, sheltering her against harm. The feeling was laughable, really, though Malice was not amused. The woman—no, the female—was there for one purpose. She firmed her jaw and stood, holding it with stiff arms. It was a relief when they reached the top floor.

  All she needed now was to secure the female’s cooperation. She had some items that would help with that. She put the female down on the bed and cuffed it to the frame, then went to collect her supplies.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ruri’s head pounded. With each throb, she felt like it might burst open. What happened? She had only hazy memories of the previous night. There had been an apartment and the hotel figured prominently in what little she could remember. She didn’t want to open her eyes. The last time she’d had a hangover had been decades before, but she thought she remembered it well enough to recognize the symptoms. Old memories told her it was only going to get worse.

  Newer memories tickled at her mind. She couldn’t feel her wolf. Usually the wolf stirred at her pain, wrapping herself around Ruri, offering comfort and warmth. The last time she hadn’t been able to feel her wolf, Dean had been killed.

  “Wolfsbane.” The word came out of her mouth before she could stop it. Or rather, the word tried to come out. Her mouth was dry; it felt like she’d been licking cotton balls and the sound stuck in her throat. She coughed; then moaned. Her abused head didn’t like that at all.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she let her nose do the exploring. The area smelled old, like weathered timber and brick. The smells were muted, without any of the sharp edges and prickliness she associated with new things. Clean sheets made up the high notes, though the detergent was light, for which she was glad. Scented detergents made her sneeze. Given any opportunity, it seemed, humans tried to cover their own scent. The next layer was of blood and sickness. Someone hurt or very ill—or maybe hurt and very ill—had been lying close to where she was now. By the softness beneath her, she was in a bed on a very nice mattress. Likely whoever was sick had been on the bed, but they’d been moved and the sheets changed.

  The top note she could smell was of wolf and nothingness. The scent of wolf was very faint, and when she recognized it, her eyes popped open in shock.

  As she’d anticipated, light stabbed into her retinas and she squeezed them shut again, but not before getting a look at the exposed wooden beams above her head and the brightness of the place. Wherever she was, it had a lot of windows.

  She heard movement next to the bed.

  “You’re awake.” The speaker’s voice was female, a little on the low side. It was also soft, for which Ruri was grateful. “Good, I was starting to worry.” The tone didn’t match the words. Her voice was soft, but the tone was brusque.

  Ruri slowly turned her head and opened her eyes to bare slits. The light in the room was painful, but bearable. A woman sat in a chair next to the bed. At her ease, she lounged with one ankle crossed over her knee. Something about the way she sat belied the easy facade she was taking care to project.

  “Who are you?” Ruri’s voice was raspy. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in my home.” The woman uncrossed her leg and sat forward, her elbows on her knees, hands clasped in front of her. “I’m sure you already know who I am.” She smiled, lips thin. There was no trace of humor in her eyes. “Your people call me Malice.”

  Malice? That was impossible. Malice was huge, capable of taking down wolven, vampires, demons and who knew what other supras with her bare hands. Ruri realized she’d scrabbled to the edge of the bed, putting as much space between them as she could.

  “Malice?” Her voice cracked again, this time in disbelief. “Impossible. You’re no Hunter.”

  The woman stood and Ruri tried not to flinch. She certainly moved like a predator, each motion precise and purposeful.

  “Here.” She poured water into a plastic cup and handed it to Ruri, who just stared at her. “Drink something. After the drugs I pumped into your system, it’ll help.”

  Ruri smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It was still incredibly dry and water sounded heavenly. But why was Malice offering her water?

  “Why aren’t you killing me? Why even drug me at all?” No one knew what Malice looked like; wolven never survived the encounter. “Was that you, at the trucking company?” Slowly, never taking her eyes off the woman who claimed to be Malice, she reached for the cup. The water coated her mouth in coolness and slid down her throat. She moaned softly. It was the best thing she had ever tasted.

  “Why would I kill you? You haven’t done anything, at least not that I’m aware of.” Malice stared at Ruri like she was insane. “And yes, that was me. Seems to me you didn’t deserve what those furries had in mind for you. Are you objecting?”

  Ruri shook her head vehemently before remembering her headache. She winced and stopped abruptly. “Then what do you want?”

  Malice grinned again and this time Ruri had no problem believing she was who she said. The smile couldn’t have been more terrifying if Malice had filed her teeth to points. The expression promised pain for someone.

  “I need your help. Here.” She tossed a bundle of clothing on the bed and turned to leave. “Holler when you’re dressed.”

  With a start, Ruri realized she was naked. That was right, she’d shifted. She grabbed the clothes and pulled them on quickly. She wasn’t particularly embarrassed by her nudity, but it did emphasize her position of vulnerability. The shirt was a little large for her. Malice hadn’t seemed that tall, but she definitely had a fair amount of muscle packed onto her frame. The long-sleeved T-shirt gapped through the shoulders, though the arms were the right length. Ruri swung her legs over the side of the bed to pull on the pair of sweatpants.

  “What the hell?” A black band wrapped snugly around her ankle. She probed it with a careful finger. It was almost as wide as her hand and bulky. Some sort of gel filled the gap between the wide band and her ankle. A red light blinked a warning at her and she jerked her fingers away.

  Ruri yanked on the pants and stomped out of the bedroom, following the Hunter. The place didn’t seem to have permanent walls. If she’d wanted to, she could have pushed the flimsy dividers over. Malice was waiting in the hallway and Ruri almost ran right into her.

  “What the fuck is this?” Ruri yanked up her pant leg.

  “Don’t mess with it.”

  “That tells me nothing. What is it?”

  “Come with me.” Instead of answering, Malice walked off down the hall, leaving Ruri to fume soundlessly behind her before following along in her wake. Her pace was bruising and Ruri had to lengthen her stride to keep up. She was damned if she was going to run after the woman.

  They stepped out between another gap in the flimsy walls and a huge open space yawned before them. They skirted the edge of the walled-in area. Malice stopped in front of a large metal box. It looked like it had been hand-welded together out of corrugated metal. As large as it was, she could have paced off each side in four long steps.

  As
they got closer, the smell of blood and misery overwhelmed her nostrils. The stench was strong enough Ruri could taste it, like wet ashes in her mouth. What in the name of Luna is going on here?

  Malice stopped in front of a crude door and slid open a panel. “You’re here to help her.”

  Ruri stepped back, her hand to her nose. With the panel open, the stench of injury and sadness overwhelmed her. On the tail of it, she got a strong whiff of wolf.

  “What have you done?” Ruri scrambled to the door and peered through the small opening.

  Someone had gone to the trouble to make the square metal box as comfortable as possible. It must not have lasted long. Strips of cloth littered the floor as did clumps of wadding. They’d been slashed into ribbons. Light filtered in through small windows cut into the top of each wall, making it almost impossible to distinguish the form huddled in the corner from its nest of fabric and foam. It lifted its head, hair hanging down in lank strands that swayed with the poor creature’s palsied movement.

  She turned her head to stare at Malice, horrified. “How could you—?”

  A roar shook the metal box and Ruri felt as much as heard the form hurtling into the door. It struck with a hollow clang and enough force to set Ruri back on her heels. Red eyes glowed at her from the darkness and sharp teeth snapped where her fingers had been the moment before.

  Malice reached over and slammed the hatch shut. Another scream in protest rose behind it.

  “Who is that?” Ruri stared at Malice, unable to believe she was holding a wolven prisoner.

  “That is my sister.”

  *

  “Your sister?” the female asked again, her voice stretched thin in disbelief.

  Mary Alice moved around the kitchen. She assembled Cassidy’s noon meal. It was raw steak, but she’d discovered that Cassidy wouldn’t eat it cold. She dropped the hunk of meat on a plate and shoved it into the microwave to defrost. If it was anything more than body temperature, Cassidy wouldn’t eat it then either. She tried not to think of the implications.