Moonglow

by Kristen Callihan

He beamed. “Exactly! Fortunately, with every problem comes a solution. For upon possession, if the gods are smiling down”—Northrup’s snort was ignored—“a being appears.”

  Lucien took another drink, and Daisy swallowed, mimicking the action and wishing the wine were sliding down her throat. Northrup’s hand fell upon hers. The stern look in his blue eyes had her sitting back.

  “He calls himself Adam,” Lucien said, “as he ate from the tree of knowledge, and in so doing learned how to create his own beings. Adam will give the spirit the home it craves, restoring the dying body and turning it into a perfect, ageless shell.”

  “You mean”—Daisy swallowed—“you are a spirit using the body of another?”

  His smile was all teeth. “In the flesh.” He chuckled. “And a rather lovely body at that, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Daisy pursed her mouth, but he kept grinning. “You should have seen my birth form, sweetness. It was plain, odd, and gangly. The crowning glory of breeding cousin with cousin for generations.” He gave a little bow with his head. “I was the very rich, very spoiled son of very white, very ugly planters.” Another grape disappeared through his full, beautiful lips. “Oh, how they would roll over in their graves to learn that I now inhabit the body of a quadroon whore.”

  “Perhaps they would think you fortunate for a second chance at life,” Daisy murmured.

  “Doubtful, chère. One must not overlook the very real price to pay for this second chance, as you put it.” His green eyes iced over. “The spirit must procure other bodies for Adam.”

  “And if the spirit does not?”

  “Oh, but he must. For Adam builds in a rather clever fail proof.” At that, Lucien undid the middle two buttons of his shirt and parted the linen.

  “Good God,” Daisy breathed, holding her own chest, for the sight pained her.

  Embedded within the center of his chest lay a little glass window framed in gold, through which, beneath the cage of bone, blue veins, and flesh, pumped a golden heart, a miracle of clockwork gears and moving pistons.

  Having seen a man merged with a wolf, Daisy knew the impossible possible. It still did not prevent her from leaning forward, her hand rising as if to touch the little window. She curled her fingers into a fist at the last moment, realizing the rudeness of the gesture.

  “ ‘How many goodly creatures are there here,’ ” she quoted softly.

  He gave her a knowing smile as he buttoned his shirt. “ ‘O brave new world! That has such people in it!’ ” he said, finishing the quote for her. “Knowledge is a wonderful thing, is it not? You see, my dear, if the ghost who now drives the machine should fail to comply with his maker’s wishes, his heart will stop and the machine works no more.”

  “Is it worth it?” she asked. “To murder innocents in return for a life of servitude?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Oh now, we’ve misled you, Northrup and I. One need not resort to murder. The dying are plentiful, especially in a city such as London. However, one occasionally grows weary of the search and may, if tempted, take an easier route in procurement.”

  With a lazy sigh, he poured himself more wine, sending forth a bouquet heavy with notes of currant and black cherry. “And we mustn’t forget the certain, shall we say, benefits one acquires.” He turned his gleaming eyes upon Northrup. “Which, presumably, is the reason you are here.”

  Releasing his proprietary grip on Daisy’s arm, Northrup reached into his breast pocket to pull out the unicorn stickpin he had found in the perfumer’s shack and passed it over to Lucien. “I found this pinned to the bodice of a dead woman in Bethnal Green.”

  “A lovely piece.” Lucien swirled the pin between his fingers, making the unicorn dance. “But I needn’t tell you what it is.”

  Northrup scowled at the pin. “No.”

  Daisy leaned closer to peer at the little pin. “Perhaps you could tell me?”

  “The lion and the unicorn are the monarch’s symbol,” Northrup said.

  Daisy nodded. “The lion for England, the unicorn for Scotland.”

  “Aye, but what you do not know is that upon ascension to the Ranulf throne, the British monarch presents a pin such as this to the Ranulf King as a symbol of good faith.”

  She blinked. “Does the Queen know? About lycans?”

  “The Ranulfs are closely tied with the royal family. We share a direct blood tie with Queen Mary of Scots.” His expression turned wry. “Queen Victoria knows of us. The royals always have. And though the British monarchs rule Scotland in the human world, The Ranulfs rule the subjects of the lycan world.”

  Northrup, rather than looking smug, seemed to flush at this. His lids lowered and he studied the place setting before him. “Recognizing our ties is essential to maintaining civil human-lycan politics. My father passed his pin on to me before he abdicated his throne.”

  Lucien smiled widely, much like the cat that ate the cream. “I take it this one is not yours?”

  “No.” Northrup’s tone was final. “I can only assume it is the one Conall received from Queen Victoria.”

  Making a steeple with his fingers, Lucien’s expression turned inward. “I’ve heard tell that Conall is on the outs with Victoria.” He gave Northrup a stiff smile. “She always liked you better. It’s no secret that Victoria was put out when you did not become The Ranulf. That has stuck in Conall’s craw.”

  “True,” Northrup said. “Since I refused the throne and he took it, Conall has hated me. Now a pin that would implicate both the House of Ranulf and the Queen is found at a murder scene.”

  “So,” said Lucien, “you believe Conall might be stirring up trouble and letting the werewolf live to bedevil the Queen?”

  Northrup’s jaw tightened. “Last night, I was hit by Ranulf darts, as was the were. Daisy and I were taken to Ranulf House. Conall feigns ignorance of the were, but I have little reason to believe him. Either he is taunting the Queen or me, or both. I do not know.” He picked up the delicate pin and made the unicorn spin round. “Which is why I want you to find out what my brother is doing and why.”

  Lucien’s mouth twitched with what looked like resigned humor. “Just so I have this straight. You want me to spy on the lycan king?”

  They stared at each other as the ormolu clock on the wall ticked away the seconds.

  “Well,” said Lucien as he rang a bell by his side, “it appears we shall need Mary Chase.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Who is Mary Chase?” Daisy asked while they waited. “And why do we need her?”

  Lucien’s strange eyes flashed on a smile. “Reconnaissance. We are the spies of the supernatural world, ma petite. For the right price, we can get into anywhere at any time. Observe.”

  Lucien became utterly still, and his gleaming eyes immediately dimmed. A caress of ice-cold air touched Daisy’s cheek and then surrounded her breasts. Icy prickles rippled over her sensitive flesh, beading her nipples. She sucked in a gasp as a cold draft blew between her legs. “Oh!”

  A vicious snarl burst from Northrup, and he was out of his seat, his hands fisting Lucien’s collar. The man’s head flopped to the side as if he were stunned. Northrup gave him a violent shake. Fangs sprang long in Northrup’s mouth, his eyes going round and filling with blue. “I’ll tear yer fuckin’ head from yer neck, if ye don’t leave off!”

  The air about her whooshed past her. Lucien’s prone body jerked and he blinked, his eyes returning to normal. Still caught in Northrup’s grip, he offered an innocent little smile to the snarling lycan bearing down on him.

  “Temper, Ian. It was only a bit of fun.”

  Northrup was past hearing. His jaw cracked as it lengthened, the fangs in his upper and lower jaw growing longer. “Not with her.” A snarl tore out as his claws sank into Lucien’s neck.

  The man gurgled as Daisy leaped up. “Northrup! Stop.” He bared his teeth at Lucien, and the muscles along his forearms bulged. Crimson blood ran in rivulets down Lucien’s neck and into his snow-whi
te cravat.

  “Ian.” With a shaking hand, she touched his arm. He jerked as though shocked, his eyes, gleaming ice blue, turned to her, unseeing and wild. “Let him go, Ian. You don’t want to kill him. Not truly.”

  Northrup cocked his head, his nostrils pinching as though he were inclined to disagree. His tense frame vibrated as a series of low growls rumbled in his throat. Daisy blanched but did not let him go. She had to trust in his promise not to hurt her. “Ian. Stand down.”

  On a shudder, his body began to ease back to normal and the confusion and rage in his eyes cleared, to be replaced by a possessive heat that made her blush. A grunt of acknowledgment left him before he turned away from her.

  Northrup hauled his prey close, his nose butting up against Lucien’s. “Play with yer own lass, aye?”

  With a final snarl, he shoved Lucien back into his seat. The chair slid a foot before Lucien’s boot heels stopped it. “A thousand pardons,” Lucien said, panting. “I forgot myself.”

  Daisy, on the other hand, having just realized that the cold touch was Lucien, suddenly felt far from appeased. “That was you?” she said through her teeth.

  The man held up his hands in apology, and she turned to Northrup. “I was wrong. Tear his hands off.”

  Northrup’s eyes glinted with wicked humor as he winked at her, his smile feral and still showing a bit of fang. He turned back to Lucien and let his claws free. Lucien backed into his chair, his handsome mouth opening in alarm. “Here now!”

  Daisy gave him an evil smile. Now that Northrup had calmed, he wouldn’t follow through, but he put on a very convincing show. “I wouldn’t be too alarmed, Mr. Stone,” she said. “After all, it appears you do not need your hands to get into mischief.”

  Northrup took another step, making a great deal of growling, and Daisy almost laughed.

  “Oh now, sweet, I do apologize.” Northrup grabbed his flailing arm, and Lucien yelped. “I was disrespectful, and I was wrong. Now call off your dog!”

  “I suppose we ought to let him alone,” Daisy said with a sigh. “After all, I abhor violence.”

  Northrup chuckled and let him go.

  “Quite good of you,” Lucien muttered to Daisy. “I am in your debt.”

  The door opened and in walked a woman Daisy presumed was Mary Chase.

  Sugar and spice and everything nice. It was all Daisy could think as the young woman glided toward them. Golden-brown hair, glinting like spun sugar, framed a heart-shaped face from which eyes of pale butterscotch glittered with bright, watchful intelligence.

  Those eyes glanced over her, taking note and then moving on as if she found Daisy a rather boring addition to her day. Lucien, however, saw the way Daisy gaped.

  “It is the eyes that snare you.” Smoothing out his rumpled coat with a shaking hand, he forced a wide smile. “As is their purpose. Crystalline eyes to draw you in. Entice you to tell us your secrets.”

  Daisy closed her mouth. “You pick your bodies well.”

  Mary Chase’s petal pink lips quirked but she said nothing as she perched on the arm of Lucien’s chair.

  “Mary’s”—Lucien ran a knuckle down the woman’s arm—“delightful body is her own. As she had the choice offered to her moments before her first death.”

  Mary Chase accepted the man’s touch with neither encouragement nor rejection. Her odd eyes rested a moment longer than proper on Northrup before sliding back to Lucien. “What is it that you want, sir?” Her voice was warm toffee, and some base part of Daisy bristled with pure feminine jealousy.

  “Northrup here wants us to play shadow to The Ranulf.” Lucien handed her the stickpin. “Are you up to the task, ma petite?”

  Her butterscotch eyes settled on Northrup. “A dangerous thing to follow a lycan.”

  A slow, wry smile curled Northrup’s lips as he took his seat once more. “Very dangerous. You might not survive.”

  Lucien laughed again. “Helping along our bargaining, are we, Ian?”

  “Hurrying it along, more like,” Northrup said. “We all know what it is I am asking.”

  Daisy leaned in. “Do we?” She rather hated being the ignorant party.

  “Lycans can see spirits,” Northrup said patiently. “For a GIM to spy on one is a tricky business.” Well, at the very least, Daisy understood how Northrup had known what Lucien had been up to with his tricks.

  “An understatement,” Lucien cut in. “I don’t lightly risk the welfare of my brightest.” Lucien’s hand drifted from Mary’s arm to the narrow curve of her waist, cinched in golden silk. Daisy could not help but admire the gown, or the woman for choosing it. Here was a woman who knew proper dress.

  “One wonders why you don’t volunteer for the deed yourself then,” Daisy said.

  At that, Mary Chase’s gold gaze flicked to Daisy’s. A small smile sparked in those strange orbs. “Because he needs the best,” she said. “That would be me.”

  Humble girl, she was.

  “What is that you want to know?” Mary asked Northrup.

  Daisy tried to take her eyes from Lucien’s roaming hand, but she could not as it slid slowly up to cup the young woman’s small breast.

  Northrup’s seat creaked beneath his muscled frame. “The werewolf terrorizing London, does Conall have it? And if so, where?”

  Long, dark fingers idly circled a budding nipple, a whisper of a caress. The woman leaned into the touch, slightly, subtly. Heat bloomed between Daisy’s legs and spread over her flesh. She shifted in her chair, pressing her thighs together.

  “That shall take some time, and finesse.”

  “Are you willing?”

  The questing fingers stilled but did not give up their prize. The blunt tip of one finger rested gently over a hardened nub. Daisy swallowed, the tightness inside of her clenching. Her cheeks were surely aflame. Yet she could not move her eyes from the sight.

  Mary Chase’s small breast lifted and fell with the rhythm of her breathing, causing dark fingers to slide over the curve of flesh. A pale, feminine hand fell upon a muscled thigh encased in blue satin. Slowly, the hand stroked up to the bulge growing between his thighs. Daisy squirmed and gripped the side of her chair.

  “I am always willing.” The questing hand stopped, having found its prize, and squeezed. A blast of heat hit Daisy’s cheeks.

  Lucien’s voice was surprisingly benign for a man who had a woman’s hand on his cock. “There is the matter of payment, old friend.”

  Northrup’s arm moved. A pile of pound notes scattered among the plates and goblets.

  “Money is lovely, Ian, but I think I’ll need something more this time.” He made a show of straightening his cravat.

  So they would have to pay for Northrup’s temper.

  Northrup’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”

  Lucien let go of his moll and leaned back in his chair. “Do you know your brother will not work with the GIMs?” A cold look frosted over his features. “Rather, he’d prefer not to pay but to force our hand into providing services.”

  Northrup did not move. “What, Lucien?”

  “You.” His expression grew deadly serious. “You get that brother of yours off the throne and take it.”

  A bitter laugh escaped Northrup. “Why does everyone seem to think I’ll be a better leader? Did ye no’ think I might be inclined to hold it against you once I got there?”

  “Ah, but that is why I shall also ask for your assurance that you shall treat us fairly.” Lucien waved an idle hand. “Fairly, that is all. No favoritism. You could not ask for a better deal.”

  “I can ask for a hell of a lot,” Northrup snapped.

  He turned away and lowered his head. But Daisy could see the capitulation taking over his expression, and it made her want to shout in protest. He wanted a normal life. He would not do this. He could not.

  “I’ll need assurances as well,” Northrup said. “I do this, and not only will you tell me what I want to know, but you will work for me exclusively until the were i
s dead. Daisy’s safety will be as important to you as it is to me.” He leveled a glare at Lucien. “I trust you understand the full extent of that importance.”

  Lucien’s smile was the devil’s. “Of course. She shall be as dear to me as… well, let us say a daughter, shall we? I wouldn’t want you getting your fur up once more.”

  Northrup began to nod his assent but Lucien held up a hand. “To be clear, protection is null and void should you fail to become The Ranulf. As much as I’d love to help the lovely Daisy”—he glanced at her with humor—“I cannot risk all for nothing in return.”

  Dead calm colored Northrup’s voice when he spoke. “When I challenge Conall, I will not fail.” His eyes held with Lucien’s. “But I will not do so until the werewolf is destroyed.”

  With a chill, Daisy understood. The werewolf was a threat to her. He could not risk his own life until he knew that she was safe.

  “Northrup,” Daisy said, coming forward, “do not do this. Not for me. There are other ways.”

  “There are always other ways,” he agreed, not looking at her. “But this is the best.” He gave a sharp nod to Lucien. “Done.”

  “Why did you do it?” Daisy asked him. “You told me you wanted out of that life.”

  Ian sat back against the squabs, as comfortable as he could get given that he’d been fighting off an erection for the better part of the hour and had only just got it under control. Damn Lucien and his antics. Ian had seen the display before, and he didn’t give a fig if the sly GIM fondled his protégée. Daisy’s reaction, however, was another matter altogether. Seeing her grow agitated with desire had set him aflame.

  “You know why.”

  Her white teeth caught her lower lip and worried it. “I’m not worth this trouble.”

  “You are.” Ian cleared his throat. “My course was set the moment those Ranulf darts hit me, lass. At least this way I’ll know the GIMs will be watching over you. It isn’t the best of arrangements, I grant you. They are a sly lot, but we needed the help. I can assure you, however, that once a deal is struck, they will hold up their end.”