Changeling Moon

by Dani Harper

  “I think we need to stand our ground,” Zoey began. She was unsure of what she was going to say, but it felt right, even though she could hear the murmuring among some of the assembly. She knew what they were thinking, that she was new to the Change, new to the Pack, and she couldn’t possibly know what she was talking about. Many would want to dismiss her idea, dismiss her—and she wasn’t going to allow it. She reached out with her senses, seeking the words to explain. “I’m new at being a Changeling but I’m not new to some other things. I know that in the distant past, many of you have been forced from your homes, forced to start over. I’ve had to start over too. And I’ve learned that you lose something when you let fear push you into leaving what you’ve built, when you give up ground.

  “All of us are afraid right now, but it’s important to realize that we are not helpless. Maybe it wasn’t possible to turn the tide of public opinion a century ago, but things are very different now. Maybe wolves aren’t a protected species in this country at present, but there’s a worldwide movement that would rally to that cause if we wanted it. This is our home. I say we don’t give up without a fight. Today’s weapons aren’t tooth and claw, they’re words and networking, and they’re powerful. We can change the tide of public opinion. It’ll be hard after what Bernie did, after the loss of life here. But we aren’t guilty of anything and it just doesn’t seem right to skulk away as if we are.” She looked around at all the faces. Some were nodding, some were frowning. “That’s all I have to say.” Zoey sat down as voices erupted around the circle.

  Jessie allowed the din to continue for some time before calling the Pack to order. “Each wolf will have to choose for himself, of course, but Zoey’s words are worth considering. Sometimes new blood brings new wisdom.” She winked at Zoey before continuing.

  “We have one final issue to discuss,” Jessie said. “Bernard hoped to betray us by revealing our secrets and our identities to a human being who had not proven himself to be a friend to the Pack. He’s here, and we need to decide what to do with him.”

  That sounded like a cue. Slowly, painfully, Tad Helfren used a crutch to get to his feet and shuffled to the middle of the circle where the small dark woman was holding court. Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Werewolves . . . He felt no fear, just resignation. They were going to kill him, and maybe it would be doing him a favor. He had no idea why he wasn’t dead already. He’d chased monsters his whole life, looking for physical proof of their existence. Now he’d finally met one face to face and had proof in spades . . . and wished he didn’t.

  He cleared his throat, tried to straighten up. There were rows of stitches on his forearms and on the backs of his hands. Stitches across his belly held closed deep gashes, and a cast on one leg ran from ankle to thigh. There were even two jagged trails of stitches across the top of his head, knitting together his scalp. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember getting a single one of those sutures. Hell, he couldn’t remember being rescued, never mind being treated for his wounds.

  He remembered every detail of how he had gotten them, however, and that was where the real damage lay. In his head. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Bernard Gervais turn into a creature from hell. The nightmare stalked him 24/7 and he no longer knew what it was like to sleep without screaming.

  Jessie motioned for him to sit, which he did gratefully. Both his body and mind were exhausted. He glanced around and recognized many of the faces in the assembly, knew most of them by name now. Funny, he’d expected them to look at him with hate or loathing or disgust. Instead, he could swear he saw something like pity, perhaps even concern. He chalked it up to imagination.

  “This is Tad Helfren, a reporter—”

  “Investigator,” he corrected. He didn’t want anybody writing reporter in his obituary. He was a professional.

  The Pack leader cocked an eyebrow at him and continued. “An investigator for OtherWorld News. He came here to write a story on werewolves. However, he now has a vested interest in keeping our secrets rather than publishing them,” she said to the group. “He’s been bitten and the full moon is only two days away. He could not be treated with silver in time.”

  There was a collective gasp. Oh yeah, there’s another good reason for not hanging around, Helfren thought. Going to turn into a monster in two days? Just let me check out now. “Can I ask how you plan to kill me?” he said. “I’ve already been torn up once, so I’d like to choose something quick if that’s allowed.”

  There was silence for a long moment. Great, he’d pissed them off. So much for the quick death.

  “You believe we want to kill you.” Watson made it a statement.

  “Why not? You’re werewolves.”

  “Changelings,” somebody corrected.

  “You think we’re all killers like that rotter, Bernie.” Watson’s husband, Bill, folded his tattooed arms indignantly. “We’re just bloody animals to you.”

  Helfren simply shrugged. If the shoe fits . . . “Can we just get it over with?”

  Jessie Watson shook her head. “We’re not going to kill you, Tad. We can’t undo what has been done to you, but we can help you get through it, teach you how to live with it. You can be one of us.”

  He stared at her, incredulous. “This is a joke, right?” He looked around, but no one seemed to be laughing.

  “You’ve been Changed without consent,” she continued. “Your sire is dead, and you are the Pack’s responsibility now. We take that very seriously.”

  No. No way in hell was he buying this. “Seriously enough that I could join up and become the Pack flunky, you mean.” Just how dumb did they think he was? “I guess somebody has to order the pizza, be the designated driver, and bury the bodies, but you’re going to have to get somebody else.”

  There were surprised murmurs around the circle. Some faces were amused, some angry. Bill Watson was definitely on the angry list and looked as if he was going to come over and do something about it until a new voice broke in. “For Christ’s sake, Helfren, this isn’t Dracula. We don’t turn people into our personal minions.” Helfren turned and saw that it was one of the Macleod twins. “I do my own laundry, just like everybody else.”

  “Culley, you’re always talking our sister into doing your laundry,” said Connor.

  “Hey, well, she’s not here right now, is she? So I’m doing my own laundry like I said.”

  For a split second it sounded normal. They sounded normal. Just regular people with regular families. Helfren sighed. He was afraid of being taken in by this charade—but a tiny part of him wanted, needed, hope. “Do you really expect me to believe that there are no strings? That I could just learn to be like you and that’s it?”

  “You’re really waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren’t you?” Jessie shook her head. “There are no strings here, Helfren. That’s not the way we work. You’ll have a lot to learn, some adjustments to make. But your life is your own.”

  He took a breath and allowed himself, just for a moment, to believe they weren’t going to kill him. That he wasn’t going to die. But the life before him looked terrifying and fear overwhelmed him. “I can’t do this,” he said quietly and wondered if he could cowboy up enough to shoot himself.

  “You have to do this and you will. But not alone.” Jessie spoke to the assembly. “Bernard Gervais is dead. Someone must take on the responsibilities of teaching this man in the sire’s stead.”

  “I think I’ll take that bet.” It was Culley Macleod. He rose and walked over to Jessie. “He’s a jerk and an asshole, but I think he’s got potential. Besides, I like a long shot.”

  A Macleod? A Macleod was going to be his guide to werewolf life? Helfren blinked, glad he was sitting down. This couldn’t be good. Out of everyone present, the Macleods had the most reason to kill him. He’d spied on them, harassed them. Worst of all, he’d gotten carried away, so damn intent on breaking this story to the world, wanting that fame and fortune so bad that he’d put hands on Zoey Tyler, threate
ned her. Hell, he’d almost hit her. Yeah, the Macleods had plenty of reason to take him out and he couldn’t blame them a bit.

  “Culley, this is a commitment, not a prank,” said Jessie. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

  The Pack leader folded her arms and surveyed them both. “I’m not sure who’s getting the worst of this bargain, but I’ll accept it.” She rose and walked a few steps away. “It’s a terrific life, Tad. I think you’ll find happiness in it.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone and in her place stood a wolf. Tiny blue sparks winked out in its rich fur. It wasn’t the horrific monster that Bernie had been but Helfren’s heart skipped several beats just the same. With a wave of her tail she loped away. Several others Changed and followed after her, as he stared.

  “You look like you’re having a panic attack,” interjected Culley. “Better take a breath there, bud.”

  Helfren shook himself and sucked in air until he felt as normal as he was going to get. He put his hands up. “Look, why the hell do you care, anyway? What is it you want?”

  “Maybe I just want to see if there’s a human being under that obnoxious reporter shell of yours. And maybe I got a glimpse of it that gives me hope.” Culley lowered his voice. “I saw you in the grocery store parking lot one day helping Enid Malkinson. That old cat of hers, Poodle, jumped out of the car and ran off. You helped her chase it down.”

  Helfren scowled. “Big deal. All I did was get a damn cat for a little old lady.”

  “Uh-huh. And you had to crawl under a grain truck to do it.” Culley grinned. “Don’t give me that look, Helfren. I know you’ve got a heart. It’s rusty and shriveled with disuse, but we can work with it, maybe do a little remedial charm school once we get the Changeling stuff down. Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll even apologize to Zoey and Connor. They’ll probably just eat you, of course, but you’ll go out with a clear conscience.”

  He felt the color draining from his face.

  Culley simply chuckled and shook his head. “You’re way too easy, bud. Nobody’s going to lay a finger on you, I promise. So what do you say?” He held out a hand.

  Tad Helfren sighed then and gave up. Just gave up and gave in. He was going to be a werewolf—Changeling, he corrected himself. And apparently he was going to have a wise ass for a mentor.

  He took the hand.

  Epilogue

  The wind whipped a flurry of golden poplar leaves down the dark, deserted street, mixed them with a few wet snowflakes. The Village Council’s monthly meeting had gone overtime again. That was almost a tradition. The new publisher of the Dunvegan Herald Weekly was the last one out of the building. That was well on the way to becoming a tradition too.

  I’ve got to start finishing my story notes at home. Or hire another reporter. It’s got to be after 11 o’clock. Camera bag in hand, Zoey headed toward the only vehicle left on the street: her old red Bronco. Suddenly her peripheral vision detected a large dark shadow moving stealthily along the bushes toward her. She stopped dead, heart pounding.

  The shadow resolved itself into an immense wolf.

  “Connor Macleod! That’s so not funny!”

  The silver and black wolf bounded into the amber glow of a streetlight, jaws grinning, tongue lolling. A moment later, a tall man leaned on the hood of her truck and smiled innocently at Zoey as blue sparks spiraled to the ground around him. “Come on, you weren’t really scared, were you? I told you I’d be waiting for you.”

  “More like lying in wait! Good thing there’s nobody around to see you at this time of night!” She dodged his embrace and put the camera bag on the front seat. Sighed as he moved in close behind her. Sighed more deeply as he brushed aside her long hair and began warmly kissing the sensitive spot on the back of her neck. She felt herself melting and slipped easily into mindspeech. Mmmm. You get around me every time.

  Not every time. You bopped me when I surprised you in your office last week.

  Yeah, but I only hit you once. And I generously forgave you for sneaking up on me like that, since you were kissing me so nicely.

  “I did a helluva lot more than kiss you,” he murmured. The two of them had ended up making love amid the stacks of newspapers in the darkened print room. Later, it had taken quite a while to shower the stubborn ink off their skin—but that just provided an opportunity to enjoy each other all over again. Come to think of it, I’d like to do a lot more than kiss you right now, little falcon.

  “Really?” She grinned and leaned back against him, enjoying the warmth that radiated from him. “Now why would that be?”

  “Because my life’s goal is to finally count all of my wife’s freckles. For some reason I keep getting distracted and having to start over.” He slid a hand over her hip and cupped her bottom. “I think I left off about here last time.”

  She laughed and glanced down at the antique ring on her hand, a Macleod family heirloom. Two silvery wolves entwined around a large moon-white pearl. Connor had gently slid the band onto her finger only a few months ago, during an intimate ceremony with family and friends at the Macleod farm. At the first touch of the ring, her psychic gift had shown her a beautiful dark-haired woman, smiling at Zoey as if she heartily approved.

  It had been one of the nicest visions Zoey had ever had, almost like a wedding present from her extra-sensory side. And maybe it had been a sign as well. Accepting her abilities had caused them to grow and flourish. Embracing a relationship with Connor had done the same. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world to say yes when he asked her to marry him. The fact that she’d been a mountain lion at the time notwithstanding . . .

  “I have an idea,” she murmured.

  He nuzzled her hair until he could brush his lips over her ear. And what’s that?

  “Let’s forget the truck and run home.”

  His mouth traveled down her sensitive neck in long soft kisses and gentle bites. He slid his big hands under her jacket, her shirt, seeking skin. “And then what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” The frosty night air and the heat from his strong fingers was a delicious combination. She shivered, but not from the cold. “Have wild and crazy sex all night?”

  “Mmmm . . . Just how wild and crazy are we talking?”

  She whispered in his ear.

  Connor stepped back immediately and Changed. The saddleback wolf loped to the middle of the street, where he paused and looked back, waiting. In a moment, a sleek golden wolf joined him. Together they ran through fallen leaves and skiffs of snow, dodging in and out of shadows until they reached the edge of town.

  Suddenly the golden wolf vanished and a tawny falcon took to the dark sky.

  No fair! Connor’s voice protested loudly in her head.

  She only chuckled and soared higher. Zoey watched her mate admiringly as he raced over the moonlit fields, then, with a flip of her wingtips, overtook him. Last one home makes dinner! Out of the corner of her falcon’s eye, she could see the great saddleback wolf redouble his pace. He was close, but no way was he going to catch up to her.

  He knew it too. I always end up making dinner because you cheat. I could really lose my motivation here!

  Not if you make dinner naked tonight. And I’ll provide dessert . . .

  Fine, but I want dessert first!

  Zoey laughed and flew like an arrow for home.

  Don’t miss BODYGUARDS IN BED,

  the anthology from Lucy Monroe, Jamie Denton, and

  Elizabeth Naughton, out now!

  Turn the page for a preview of Lucy’s story . . .

  Danusia wiggled the key in the lock on her brother’s apartment door. Darn thing always stuck, but he wouldn’t make her another one. Said she didn’t come to stay often enough for it to matter.

  Yeah, and he wasn’t particularly keen for that to change either, obviously. He’d probably gotten the wonky key on purpose. Just like the rest of her older siblings, Roman Chernichenko kept Danusia at a distance.

  She knew
why he did it at least, though she was pretty sure the others didn’t.

  Knowing didn’t make her feel any better. Even in her family of brainiacs, she was definitely the odd one out. They loved her, just like she loved them, but they were separated by more than the gap in their ages. She was seven years younger than her next youngest sibling. An unexpected baby, though never unwanted—at least according to her mom.

  Still, her sister and brothers might love her, but they didn’t get her and didn’t particularly want her to get them.

  Which was why she was coming to stay in Roman’s empty apartment rather than go visit one of the others, or Heaven forbid, her parents. She did not need another round of lectures on her single status by her baba and mom.

  The lock finally gave and Danusia pressed the door open, dragging her rolling suitcase full of books and papers behind her. The fact the alarm wasn’t armed registered at the same time as a cold cylinder pressed to her temple.

  “Roman, I swear on Opa’s grave that if you don’t get that gun away from me, I’m going to drop it in a vat of sulfuric acid and then pour the whole mess all over the new sofa Mom insisted you get the last time she visited. If it’s loaded, I’m going to do it anyway.”

  The gun moved away from her temple and she spun around, ready to lecture her brother into an early grave, and help him along the way. “It is so not okay to pull a gun on your sister. . . .” Her tirade petered off to a choked breath. “You!”

  The man standing in front of her was a whole lot sexier than her brother and scarier, which was saying something. Not that she was afraid of him, but she wouldn’t want him for an enemy.

  The rest of the family believed that Roman was a scientist for the military. She knew better. She was a nosy baby sister after all, but this man? Definitely worked with Roman and carried an aura of barely leashed violence. Maxwell Baker was a true warrior.