Darkmoon (#5) (The Cain Chronicles)

by Reine, SM

It wasn’t a cage intended for wild animals. It was the kind of cage that humans used on other humans, with a one-way mirror and a camera in the corner. He was stretched out on the cold, bare floor, and he could feel himself being watched.

  He got to his feet with a groan. He had long since healed all of his injuries from the car crash, but he still had a heavy, sticky feeling in his throat. They must have drugged him.

  Levi’s head was clear enough now that he could study the room and the smells contained within. The protective mesh over the camera was clearly silver. Everything else smelled like Lemon Pledge. The room had been scrubbed down recently—but not since Cain had last been inside.

  Cain. His stench was everywhere. So much for the Union putting that bastard in prison.

  The door opened, and Levi wasn’t surprised to see Tate slip inside. “You’re awake,” his ex-boyfriend said, looking relieved.

  Levi bared his teeth and growled. “Traitor.”

  Tate backed up at the sight of his glower. “What are you talking about? The Union’s been taking care of you since you had that car crash and went comatose.”

  “If they’re taking care of me, then why am I in an interrogation room? You surrendered me to the pack’s greatest enemy!”

  “Who?”

  “Cain!”

  Tate laughed and shook his head. “He’s not your enemy. He’s just on my security team. This has to be a misunderstanding.”

  It was only then that Levi saw a tattoo on Tate’s arm. It was mostly concealed by his formal shirt, and he wouldn’t have noticed it at all if not for the scent of fresh ink. Levi crossed the room in two strides, grabbed Tate’s wrist, and pushed the sleeve back.

  It was a bleeding apple.

  How the hell had Levi missed that tattoo? They’d had sex, for God’s sake, and he hadn’t seen so much as a spot of ink on Tate’s skin. Of course, he had kept his shirt on—and Levi wasn’t exactly paying much attention to Tate’s arms. “Why did you join with Cain?” Levi asked.

  “I’m not with Cain,” Tate said. “This mark’s just an organization symbol. Kind of like a secret fraternity.”

  “Cain’s secret fraternity.”

  “No, this is for the Apple. It’s so much bigger than one guy.”

  But Scott had said that the bleeding apple tattoo was the mark of Cain. If it wasn’t his symbol, then why had all the Union traitors been wearing it? And where did Scott get it done? Why would he lie?

  The questions whirled through Levi’s mind, but none of them were as pressing as the immediate problem: the fact that he was held by the Union. And Cain.

  The door opened, and Cain appeared, as if summoned by his name. “Levi,” he greeted. “Hope you’re comfortable.”

  Levi dropped Tate and lunged at him, hands outstretched. Cain backhanded him with a fist. “Hey!” Tate protested as Levi hit the ground at his feet.

  It took Levi a moment to catch his breath from the impact. “You’re supposed to be in prison. Yasir arrested you.”

  “Yasir made a deal with the wrong people. Union HQ wasn’t happy that he negotiated with a werewolf pack, and he ended up in prison instead.” Cain grinned. “Fortunately, I’m too much of an asset to lock away.” He faced Tate. “Who let you in here?”

  “I just asked the guards—”

  “Never mind, I don’t care. Get out. We need to talk.”

  Tate folded his arms and didn’t move to leave. “Yeah, I’d sure as hell say that we do. Why’s Levi in an interview room when I was told that he was being held for medical care?”

  “He’s a criminal werewolf and our prisoner.”

  “Nobody mentioned prisoners when I agreed to work with the Union. And they definitely didn’t mention beatings. What are you playing at here? Why do you even want Levi?”

  Cain already looked impatient with the line of discussion. “Captive breeding program. Werewolves birth better, more powerful werewolves. Levi’s a good candidate for fathering a few pups.” He glanced at his watch. “And we’re about to make a move to get the rest of his pack, too, so we better get moving. You have a speech to give in your hometown.”

  Shock made Tate’s face go slack. Understanding crept over his features. “You’ve been using my speeches as distractions?”

  “What did you think they’re for? It’s not because we care what the public thinks.” Cain clapped a hand down on Tate’s collar and moved to drag him out of the room.

  “Wait—wait!” Tate shouted, but Cain was too strong.

  “I’ll be back for you later,” Cain told Levi.

  Then the door was closed, and all hope was gone with it.

  SIXTEEN

  The Shower

  When Rylie emerged from the house on the next full moon, she was surprised to find James waiting for her. He had left the woolen pea coat somewhere now that it was warming up, and instead wore a white button-down shirt, charcoal gray slacks, and black leather gloves.

  She sat next to him on the porch swing, and Brody hung back against the wall, picking dirt from underneath his fingernails with a switchblade. He was just as quiet and unassuming as usual, but he stayed close—close enough that he could break James’s neck if he made a move toward Rylie.

  “Lovely night, isn’t it?” James asked.

  It really was. A warm, misty drizzle had been falling on the ranch all day, but ended once night fell; now there was nothing but a low fog and pleasantly humid air. Fresh blossoms swayed with the long grass, filling the air with the sweet perfume of pollen.

  She took a deep breath and sighed. She was probably imagining it, but she thought that she could smell the moon hiding behind the clouds.

  “What’s the news?” Rylie asked, stretching her legs out to give her stomach more room. She could barely breathe with the babies crammed under her ribs.

  “Brianna and I finished designing the spells that I’ll need to resurrect Gwyneth and Scott. It was more of a challenge than I expected. Kind of refreshing, actually. I haven’t had this much fun with magic in years.”

  Her eyes widened. “So you can fix them now?”

  “No,” James said.

  Rylie’s moment of hope immediately vanished, and her face crumpled. He patted her on the back. The gesture was probably meant to be consoling, but it made her skin crawl.

  He went on. “I can’t fix them yet. It’s an issue of power generation. I can’t find anything that will supply enough energy for the spell short of death.”

  “So you’re saying that we would have to commit human sacrifice after all.”

  “I’m saying that if Seth is right, and we’re going to be raided in two weeks, we’re out of time. We shouldn’t rule out any possibilities if we hope to resurrect Gwyn and Scott before everyone moves to the Haven.”

  Rylie shook her head. “That’s not a possibility. We can’t just kill someone.”

  “One life in exchange for two.” He shrugged. “The sacrifice wouldn’t necessarily need to be human. A powerful demon, or any angel, would work as well. We all have enemies. I’m sure you can think of at least one person whose life you don’t value as highly as your aunt’s.”

  “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this!”

  “I’m sorry I mentioned it,” James said, although he didn’t sound very sorry at all.

  She stepped away from the swing. Her rising anxiety had triggered the wolf, and getting upset was too risky on the night of the moon. “You should leave. It’s going to be dangerous out here tonight.”

  “I’ll be unobtrusive.”

  “She told you to leave,” Brody said. He flipped his knife closed, pocketed it, and cracked his knuckles. James arched an eyebrow. He didn’t have to speak to show how unimpressed he was by the threat of two werewolves.

  Abel stepped out the back door, followed closely by Trevin, Daven, and Bekah. It broke the tension immediately. Or maybe Rylie was just too distracted by Abel to be tense. “How long?” he asked without looking at her. He had barely spoken to her since their ni
ght by the pond, and his silent rejection stung.

  She tilted her face toward the sky. “Twenty minutes, maybe.” Rylie noticed Bekah hanging back from the others, looking troubled. “Did you ever reach Levi?”

  It was Trevin who responded. “He joined the Union.”

  “No way,” Rylie said.

  “He texted me this morning.” Bekah’s words were thick with tears, and her lip trembled. “He said that he was tired of putting up with Scott and…you, Rylie. So he joined the Union.”

  “Kiara followed as soon as we heard,” Pyper added.

  That meant that they were two wolves short that night. Fewer members of the pack meant that Rylie had to expend less energy to control their changes, which should have been good news—especially since it meant that the two biggest troublemakers were gone. But they had abandoned the pack for the Union. That couldn’t be anything but bad news.

  Rylie realized that everyone was watching her, and she tried to compose herself. “Okay. That’s fine. If that’s what they want to do, then I hope they’re happy. But we still have to get through this moon.”

  The entire pack gathered at the bottom of the hill, and Rylie followed, leaving James and his eerily blue eyes behind. She studied the remaining werewolves. Ten of them, and all great people—even Crystal. They needed her.

  “Five minutes,” she said, and the less shy members of the group started to strip.

  It wasn’t long before the moon rose. Rylie moved among them as they shifted, drawing their pain away and loosing it into the coolness of the night.

  One by one, they changed. After a few minutes, only Abel remained.

  He stood just out of arm’s reach and watched Rylie with a hunger in his eyes that made something clench deep within her body. “Can you do it?” she asked softly, and Abel shook his head.

  She cupped his cheeks between her hands and released her own energy into him. It was a relief to unleash the wolf. But instead of traveling through her own bones, muscles, and skin, it leaped into him. He fell to his knees with a grunt. Rylie heard a muffled pop.

  “Sorry,” she said. She couldn’t keep it from hurting him. Not when she had so much to release.

  The energy poured from her, and kept pouring. The alpine smell of evergreen trees and frozen rivers flooded her. For a moment, she could almost see the trees towering over them, and the sparkling stars watching Gray Mountain, and hear the rushing of icy water.

  When Abel gave a second, louder cry, she blinked hard to clear her eyes.

  His spine arched as his bones cracked and rearranged. His skull crunched, and his jaw extended into a muzzle, stretching his facial scars until it looked like they might tear. His ears slid up either side of his head. Claws erupted from his fingertips, and new teeth grew in his gums.

  She threw back her head and let the rest of the power rush out with a sound that was too bestial to be anything but a howl.

  Fur erupted from Abel. Blood splattered on the snow.

  All of the energy drained out of Rylie, and she dropped to her knees beside him.

  A warm tongue lapped up her arm from wrist to elbow. She ran her fingers over Abel’s fur, just like she had on every other night, and a smile found its way to her lips. It didn’t last long. As soon as he confirmed that she was okay, he whirled and bounded away into the night with everyone else. Only Brody remained, a copper-furred wolf dense with muscle.

  He offered his flank to her, and Rylie leaned on him to stand.

  James was watching a few feet away.

  “Perfect,” he breathed. “I know how we can resurrect your aunt.”

  The cellar was sheltered from the world outside by magic and several feet of earth, but even those protections weren’t enough to block out the sound of the howling pack. Rylie felt strange and disconnected from them. She should have been outside, running and howling and playing. Instead, she sat on a crate next to her aunt, who smelled like decay.

  Everyone who wasn’t furry was in attendance: Rylie, Gwyn, Seth, Brianna, Stephanie, and Scott. The cellar was packed and claustrophobic, and Rylie wasn’t even afraid of small spaces.

  “What do you mean, you’ll be able to repair us in two weeks?” Scott asked. He was wearing a baggy sweater now that the damage was creeping down his neck, and the hands protruding from the sleeves were skeletal.

  “As I said, we’ll need a source of immense power to resurrect you two,” James said. “Fortunately, I’ve discovered that we have access to a power greater than that supplied by ritual death.” He gestured to Rylie. “She’ll do well.”

  “Not a chance,” Seth said.

  Rylie rolled her eyes. She was getting so sick of people trying to protect her. “What are you talking about, James?”

  “Do you understand what makes a human into a werewolf?” he asked.

  Seth responded before she could. “It’s a curse.”

  “No, the gods gave it to us as a gift,” Rylie said. She had spoken to those gods herself on top of Gray Mountain. She didn’t actually remember the specifics of the conversation, but she knew that they had made her the Alpha that night, too.

  “Both of you are wrong,” James said. “It’s most similar to demonic possession. There are primal spirits that wander the earth. Spirits of animals and the elements. With the proper method of transmission—such as a bite—it’s fairly easy to transfer these spirits to humans. All werewolves share in a single animal spirit. The Alpha is the core of the power. The head of the beast, if you will. Fewer surviving werewolves leaves you with a greater portion of that power.”

  It was hard to argue with someone who spoke with such conviction. She stared at her shoes as she nudged a bit of dirt with her toe. “Let’s say I believe you. What would that mean for the ritual?”

  “I can use you as a funnel to access the power of that primal animal spirit. On the night of the full moon, its energy will be at its peak. If you permit me to do so, I will draw the entire pack’s energy through you, and use it to resurrect Scott and Gwyneth.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Gwyn said.

  Rylie considered the suggestion, massaging a hand over her navel. The pressure of her growing stomach had made it pop out in a tiny nub. “Will it hurt me?”

  James pulled off his reading glasses. “Probably.”

  “Will it hurt them?” she asked, patting her stomach.

  “No. That won’t be a problem.”

  “Then I think we should do it.”

  “Babe, you don’t—” Gwyn began, but Rylie cut her off.

  “It’s not going to kill me or my passengers, and I’m willing to go through a little pain to bring you back.” Her aunt opened her mouth again, but Rylie held up her hands to silence the protests. “This is my life, my pack, and my choice. That’s final.”

  Gwyn’s mouth clapped shut. It seemed to take physical effort to remain silent, but she eventually nodded.

  “Very well,” James said. “We only have two weeks until the next moon. We should prepare.”

  Seth joined Rylie while she was trying to get comfortable in bed—an impossible task, between the wolves howling outside and the pressure on her bladder.

  “You’re not seriously considering James’s ‘solution,’ are you?” he asked, hanging in the doorway of Gwyn’s bedroom. Seth was dressed for bed in nothing but a necklace of shells and a pair of gray sweatpants. He had really filled out in the last couple of years, and Stephanie’s order to avoid sex lingered in the back of her mind.

  Rylie sighed and adjusted her millions of pillows. Looking at Seth’s cut abs and biceps made her feel impossibly fat. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to save Gwyn.”

  “She’s already dead, Rylie.”

  “So you want me to just give up on her?”

  He didn’t respond to her anger in kind. He moved to the side of the bed and sat down. “I want you to think about the babies first,” he said, fluffing up a pillow and sticking it behind her lower back. “Gwyn agrees with me.”

/>   “This isn’t up to Gwyn.”

  Seth moved a few more pillows, and somehow, he put her in just the right position that her hips didn’t hurt. Rylie sank into the bed with a sigh. When he turned to prop up her feet, she spotted the tattoo of a paw print and a moon on his back. He had gotten that inked indelibly into his skin for her.

  She stroked a finger down the line of the moon. Seth closed his eyes.

  “Rylie…” She moved to touch his chest, and he stopped her with a hand on hers. With her fingers trapped against his chest, she could feel his heart beating. His brow knitted. “You’re killing me. I’m going to sleep outside your room tonight. Brody’s furry and four-legged, so he can’t watch you. But…” Seth stood and clenched his fists at his side. “I’m not going to watch you sacrifice yourself. I won’t have anything to do with this ritual.”

  Seth stepped into the hall and shut the door. She heard him rustling against the other side as he got comfortable.

  Outside, the wolves continued to howl.

  The next two weeks were filled with the rush of preparation. Moving to a whole different dimension was no small feat, especially when everyone had to be prepared to survive for a week without civilization.

  The werewolves would all be able to hunt for themselves, so they only needed to take enough food for the humans. That meant almost everything else at the ranch got donated or taken to the dump—furniture, old clothes, kitchenware—and whatever remained had to be packed into as small of a space as possible.

  Rylie didn’t need much. She packed a couple of outfits, a diary that she hadn’t written in for over a year, and her box of Seth’s letters. She couldn’t help but smile as she put everything into the duffel bag Seth and Abel shared. When you could only take the essentials, it really made you think about what mattered the most.

  When she was done, she gazed into the open duffel bag. Abel’s belongings were on one side. There was a gun, of course. Seth’s was on the opposite side. And between them, creating a narrow border, were Rylie’s three outfits.

  A hard lump formed in her throat. How was it possible to care so much about two men who were so different? Rylie’s love for Seth was an intense, teenage crush that had grown up into something warm and comfortable. But Abel was a slow burn, like a forest fire hidden in the depths of the wilderness.