Dead But Not Forgotten

by Charlaine Harris

  Luna’s feet crunched on the gravel as she walked slowly toward the truck. It had a shiny bull bar attached to the front; those things could do some damage if they hit you. Hell, the pickup alone would. And judging by the way Remy was eyeing her suspiciously through the windshield, he’d considered that, and had parked the truck front-facing deliberately. Smart guy. She held her hands out at her sides so she didn’t spook him any more than tailing him here had already.

  Remy stuck his head out the pickup’s window, a deep frown on his face. “You lost or something, ma’am? That why you followed me down here, on private property?”

  “I’m Luna Garza, a friend of Sookie’s,” she said, offering him a placating smile as she stopped half a dozen feet away. “I know you and your son are relatives of hers, and I was hoping we could chat for a minute.”

  Remy’s frown got deeper as he gave her a good once-over. She kept the smile on her face, hoping that the sight of a tiny, smiling Hispanic woman with big eyes and a mass of curly brown hair would reassure him she wasn’t dangerous. Oh, and if her size didn’t reassure him, there was always her freckles (which she’d learned to love a long time ago). No one ever expected folk with freckles to be evil. Which, of course, she wasn’t.

  But Remy obviously wasn’t the trust-the-small-woman-with-freckles type. He jerked his head toward the house. “We’re just on our way to visit with Sookie,” he said. “If you’re her friend, then we can chat with her.”

  “Okay,” Luna said, “but she’s not at home.”

  “How do you know?” he said.

  Luna poked her sneaker into the gravel. “Stones are noisy,” she said. “I think Sookie’d have heard us and come out of the house by now if she were here, don’t you?”

  Remy gave a reluctant nod.

  “And I can tell with this.” Luna tapped the side of her nose. “I’m a shifter.”

  Shock and fear rounded Remy’s eyes. He moved his hand below the truck’s window. “I got a gun, lady. And just so you know, it’s loaded with silver bullets.”

  Luna’s gut twisted. She backed up a few steps, raising her hands, her thoughts whirling in panic.

  Getting shot with silver, coupled with getting shot just for being what she was, was her worst nightmare. And not just hers; most weres worried about it, especially as the law wasn’t exactly clear on what rights they had now that the world knew they existed. Hell, Luna had heard Sam’s stepdad had shot Sam’s mom when she’d told him she was a shapeshifter. (Luckily, the bullet hadn’t been silver.) Sam’s mom hadn’t been the only one to get hurt; there’d been plenty others.

  Even a couple of the Dallas werewolves she knew had run into trouble. One had told his boss, who’d freaking whipped out a dinky pistol and plugged the Were straight in his chest. (He’d healed up and been right as rain, apart from the whole losing-his-job thing.) The other hadn’t been so lucky. He’d been killed by his own daughter (the twoey had married a straight human and had kept his other nature a secret from his family, something Luna thought was asking for a crapload of trouble, though nothing that deserved him ending up shot dead).

  And the latest was the runaway they were all searching for. Poor kid was an orphan and had been in a children’s home since he was two. He hadn’t known he was a Were until he hit puberty, had gone all werewolf at his first full moon night before last, and had been shot by one of the counselors. The man had caught him attacking another boy. The counselor was in the hospital with a mauled and broken arm, and sadly the other kid was in a coma, though not from the injuries from the werewolf attack, but from the bullet in his chest. The report said the counselor’s gun had gone off accidentally a second time when the werewolf had turned on him.

  Thankfully, so far, there were enough vamps and weres in the local police that while the incident had made the news, the fact that the teenager was a Were had been kept out of it. And if the Dallas packmaster had his way, he was going to make sure that particular furry pile of dirty laundry never got aired. As soon as the runaway was found, the packmaster was going to deal with him in the old way.

  Luna didn’t think it was right, but with folks so riled up about shifters just existing, trying to get the teen Were a fair trial would likely only lead to more deaths. No sensible, decent person wanted to feed the sort of violence and hatred that had dogged the Weres since they’d gone public.

  Thinking of sensible and decent people, Luna hoped her initial impression about Remy was right. Especially as, while she’d been mentally feeding her very own scary being-held-at-gunpoint nightmare, he seemed to be holding his own Mexican standoff and waiting for her to do something. As was Hunter, whom she could see peeking over his dad’s shoulder, his face watchful and curious.

  “Do you really want to shoot me in front of your kid?” Luna said, pleased her voice was calm and didn’t betray the fear roiling inside her. “Just because I’m different?”

  “I’m only gonna shoot you if you shift to wolf, ma’am,” Remy said flatly, “same way I’d do if you was anyone trying to hurt us. Nothing to do with you being different.”

  “I’m not planning on hurting you. Or the boy,” Luna said, frantically trying to think of a way to convince him. An idea hit her. It was a bit sneaky, and risky, but if it worked, Remy would know she knew Hunter’s secret (hopefully he wouldn’t then shoot her on the spot) and it would save them all a lot of time. Time they needed if she was going to get them to tell her where to find the frightened shifter Hunter had heard.

  She thought very clearly at the boy. “I turn into a bat, Hunter. And I want to help the other person like me you heard, who was scared and crying.”

  Hunter’s eyes went saucer-round. “Dad!” He tugged on Remy’s shirtsleeve. “She’s a bat woman. She just told me. She wants to help the other voice. The one I heard.”

  Remy shushed Hunter as a mix of emotions flashed across his face; fear, anger, exasperation, indecision, and finally resolve. Luna could see he was going to protect his son’s secret no matter what. The glare he fixed on her confirmed it.

  “You planning on telling anyone, ma’am?” he demanded.

  She shook her head. “Nope, not my business. And Sookie’s my friend. Plus I’m not the sort of lowlife who’d rat out a child. Kids are innocents and should be protected. I give you my word that his secret is safe with me.”

  Remy glanced at Hunter with a hesitant expression. “She sound all right to you, son?” He tapped his son’s head gently. “In there?”

  “She was scared when you told her you had a gun, Dad,” the boy said, sounding way older than his five years.

  “She still scared?” Remy asked.

  “A bit,” Hunter replied.

  Luna nodded in agreement. No way did she want to be shot.

  “What about you, son?” Remy asked. “Anything in her head frighten you?”

  “No, sir,” Hunter told him, again with more assurance than his age warranted. It made Luna wonder exactly what horrible thoughts he’d heard in the past.

  Remy’s shoulders sagged in resignation, and he gave Luna his full attention again. “What do you want from us, ma’am?”

  “Is it okay if I put my hands down?” she asked. Her own shoulders were tense and tight from being held at gunpoint.

  “Sure,” Remy said, with a shrug. “I haven’t got a gun anyway.” He popped open the truck’s door and showed her his empty hands. “Don’t think they’re the right kind of thing to have around children.”

  Luna blinked, astounded, then burst out laughing as relief coursed through her. “Well, you freaking fooled me,” she said, shaking her head as she rubbed her arms to get the stiffness out of them.

  One side of Remy’s mouth twitched up in response. “Yeah, well, I meant to, ma’am,” he said. Then his expression turned curious. “You really turn into a bat, Ms. Luna?”

  “I do.” Luna grinned. “Want to see?”
r />   “Yes!” Hunter shouted, and clambered over his father to leap out of the truck, excitement lighting his face.

  Remy got out behind him, placed a gentle admonishing hand on his son’s shoulder, and said, “Son, mind your manners.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Hunter told him without taking his gaze off Luna. “Yes, please, Ms. Luna,” he said, “I’d be very happy to see you change into a bat.”

  “Then I’d be very happy to show you, Mr. Hunter,” Luna replied, grinning wider. “After I have, maybe you and your dad could show me where you heard that voice?”

  Hunter looked up at Remy, his face echoing Luna’s question. Remy gave a broad smile, one that carried a whole world of relief. “We’d be very happy to do that.”

  Luna nodded, boosted herself onto the hood of her car, and concentrated on her bat image. She caught the flare of sharp static in her mind—

  And then, as her clothes fell in a heap, she flew, wings beating hard to lift her tiny body from the short dive. Finally, she caught a warm updraft that lifted her up through the heavy air, and, as she soared higher and higher, Hunter’s delighted squeals lit up the bright blue sky around her like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  Swooping back down, she saw the little boy jumping and waving his arms, laughing. Remy stood beside him, gazing up at her as she dived and darted through the air, a bemused expression on his face as if the world had suddenly become a stranger and more wondrous place. Luna looped the loop, and gave herself over to the sheer, heart-thudding exhilaration of being alive, and flying.

  Hours later, Luna pulled onto the shoulder of a deserted potholed parish road and parked behind Remy’s pickup. Remy and his son didn’t live in Bon Temps but Red Ditch, which was even more rural and was, Luna realized now that she was here, a perfect place for a runaway shifter to hide out in.

  She got out and stopped for a moment, breathing in the scents and sounds and sights of the bayou that stretched out in all directions as far as she could see, until it merged into the gray sky of dusk. The smell of green growing things, undercut with the sweetness of decay where the rotting vegetation enriched the peaty water. A slight saltiness on the back of her tongue. The quiet rustles, squeaks, chomps, and tiny splashes of myriad lives going about the business of living. Even the soft hoot of an owl couldn’t dim her enjoyment. Maybe to someone else the place might feel uninhabited and desolate, even spooky, but she loved the way the landscape hid nearly all signs of human habitation, loved the expanse of earth in all its uninhibited beauty. And her other nature was eager to answer the call of the moon, to stretch her wings, and take to the night.

  “Soon,” Luna promised herself, wondering why, when there were places like this, she’d lived in cities nearly all her life.

  She picked her way along the crumbling shoulder, taking care not to slip and fall into the water-filled ditch that ran alongside it, and joined Remy where he was standing by the pickup’s open door.

  Hunter was inside, strapped into his booster seat, head lolling back, mouth open as he slept. Poor kid was worn slap out, and she hated that they were going to wake him up soon. But he’d had a good meal, as they all had, at a cute mom-and-pop restaurant. Food was a necessity for a five-year-old who’d had a long day, and for a father who was trying his best to protect his boy, and for a werebat who had a night of search-and-rescue flying ahead of her.

  Plus the time they’d spent eating had given a local garage the chance to mount the huge halogen headlights now fixed on the bull bar on the front of Remy’s truck. (Luna had paid for the meal and the lights; working for the twoey coalition, even if she got stuck with the “safe” jobs, still came with perks.)

  She waved at the bayou and, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Hunter, said, “This is where he heard the crying voice, right?”

  Remy nodded. “We drove up and down the road a way, making sure, and here’s where he heard it strongest. He knew it weren’t a human, like we told you, and that’s when we decided to go get Sookie.”

  “You manage to get hold of her yet?” Luna asked.

  Remy shook his head. “Still getting her voice mail,” he said glumly. “Same as the last hundred times I called her.”

  Disappointment itched at Luna. The search would’ve been so much easier with Sookie. She could’ve helped listen and locate the Were in trouble. And with Sookie on board, Luna could’ve called in more searchers from the nearest werewolf pack. But she couldn’t do that and keep Hunter’s ability a secret. So that meant only the three of them could be here to put their “war plan” into action.

  A loud, heavy splash made her jump. “What’s that?” she said, peering in the direction of the sound.

  “That’s a gator off to find his supper,” Remy said, way too calmly for Luna’s comfort. “There’s a good few in the bayou, enough that you can get a hunting license here in the season, but no one sees them much. Most gators are shy of humans. Bobcats are the same. The black bears are a bit more curious, but if you shout at them they usually go away. Unless there’s food, of course. Though we don’t get many bears round this way, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  She was going to be searching for a twoey hiding out in swamp full of freaking alligators, big cats, and bears! The bayou didn’t look so enticing now. Good thing none of those critters could fly. Which, she reassured herself, made them less of a worry than that owl she heard earlier. Of course, she wasn’t the only bat around, so the owl had plenty of options for its dinner.

  Luna took a steadying breath, buoyed up by that thought. “So,” she said, “time we got started.”

  “Reckon it is,” Remy agreed. He leaned into the cab and gently shook Hunter awake. The little boy groaned and yawned, then, as he saw where he was, popped wide-awake, eyes shining with anticipation. With his father’s help he quickly unbuckled and climbed out of his seat to jump from the truck. Remy picked him up and sat him safely on top of the hood.

  “You ready, son?” he asked.

  “Sure am, sir,” Hunter replied smartly, grinning as he squeezed his eyes tight shut. He cocked his head as if he were listening. Which he was. Though Luna had spent enough time with the boy by now to know he didn’t need all the dramatics to hear other folks’ thoughts. Not even hers. But she was glad it had turned into a game for him; poor kid had enough to deal with without getting traumatized by all this.

  Hunter made a low “ahh-ahh” sound and stuck his arm straight out, pointing left into the twilight. “He’s over there,” he said, then opened his eyes. “He’s not crying anymore but he’s really, really sad.”

  “Can you tell how far away he is, sport?” Remy asked.

  “I think he’s about as far away as Ms. Luna went when we played the game.”

  Luna had come up with the game during their “war council” (Hunter’s enthusiastic description of their initial chat on how they were going to find the shifter). She’d flown around Sookie’s house, and the woods, even the nearby cemetery, and thought directly at Hunter to tell him where she was, so she could work out at what distance he stopped hearing her. The kid was smart so it hadn’t taken them too long to discover Hunter could hear her right to the end of Sookie’s long drive.

  Which meant that the shifter was about two miles away—the length of Sookie’s drive—in the direction Hunter had pointed.

  Of course, that still left Luna with a lot of ground to cover, but she could fly as high as ten thousand feet and cover forty-odd miles in a night (which was the same height as and a bit more than the distance of the Mexican free-tailed bat her other nature was closest to), so she had a good chance of finding the sad werewolf.

  The sun set with its usual suddenness, and a swath of bright stars and the fat one-day-past-full moon lit the night sky, calling her to shift and fly!

  “Thanks so much, Mr. Hunter,” Luna said. “That’s going to be a big help.”

  The little boy smile
d at her, pleased. Then his face fell and he said, “He thinks his best friend’s dead, Ms. Luna. That’s why he’s so sad.”

  Luna’s heart thudded. The teen the runaway werewolf had attacked at the children’s home had been his best pal. This had to be him. For a minute indecision warred in her. Should she let the Dallas packmaster know? Call for help? No, she’d promised not to betray Hunter’s secret. She’d find this sad Were first, make sure he really was the runaway, and as soon as Hunter was safely out of the picture, then she’d call for help.

  “My turn,” Luna said, and headed for her car.

  She slid into the seat and rechecked the details of the runaway on her phone. Better to know them and not need them. She shifted to her batself, then crawled out of her clothes and into Remy’s waiting palms. His big hands were warm and slightly damp with sweat and smelled of the lavender soap the restaurant had provided in the restrooms. Luna’s little bat heart skipped an anxious beat as he carefully lifted her as high as he could. When they’d been planning this, she’d decided that asking Remy to literally hold her life in his hands was one way to show him he could trust her with his son’s secret. And of course, the higher up she was, the easier it was to launch into flight.

  Her trust was rewarded and seconds later she was zooming out in the direction Hunter had pointed.

  “Cold?” she thought at him.

  The huge halogen headlights bolted to Remy’s pickup flashed brightly twice, lighting up the night about her. Cold.

  Luna squeaked with success. They had two-way communication! And the halogens were so bright she’d be able to see them for miles. Unlike their afternoon “game,” Luna wasn’t going to have to fly back every time she thought at Hunter to see if he’d actually heard her. And the amazing thing was that the halogens had been Hunter’s idea. Well, not the halogens as such, but he’d said that as she was a bat, they should get a giant torch so he could signal to the nontelepathic Luna, like they did with Batman.