Witching Moon

by Rebecca York

  He glanced over his shoulder. The others were outside clearing away construction debris. It had piled up for a couple of weeks, and he was afraid somebody was going to end up stepping on a nail.

  “We’ll have a party tonight,” he said.

  “Good.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Something you should know.”

  “About tonight? You’re having your period?”

  “No. About Sara Weston. My spy at Nature’s Refuge told me she went out of town.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “But she’s coming back. She left all her stuff. And everybody in town knows she’s working for Granville Pharmaceuticals. She’s got a fancy-ass research grant, and she left her science experiments, so she can’t be away long.”

  “And? What’s your point?”

  “We can set a trap for her. Like we did before. Only this time, she’s toast.”

  Falcon gave Starflower a long look. “You hate her, don’t you?”

  She took her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m only trying to protect us. She’s dangerous. She’s got powers. And if she learns how to use them, she can hurt us.”

  He gave a tight nod. “What kind of trap did you have in mind?”

  She smiled and he saw some of the tension go out of her. “I’ve been thinking about what kind of death would work for the scum who hunted down our parents. We want to kill them, but we don’t want anyone to know we had a hand in it. What do you think about a one-car auto accident?”

  “Tell me more.”

  She started outlining a very well-developed plan, and he realized she’d probably been thinking about it since the afternoon Adam Marshall had rejected her. And Sara Weston had scared the shit out of her.

  The rejection was minor in the grand scheme of things. But Sara Weston was another matter. At first it had looked like she might be an asset to the group.

  But he trusted Starflower’s judgment. Dr. Weston was dangerous. She had the power to challenge their plans and disrupt the clan.

  So she had to be eliminated. And Marshall, too. Because he had gone to the trouble of protecting her, by moving her into Nature’s Refuge. He cared about her. Which meant that if he found out the clan had offed her, he’d come after them.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  AFTER THE SHERIFF’S visit, Adam couldn’t even pretend he was focused on paperwork.

  Thinking about Sara being in danger from Delacorte made his insides ache. He couldn’t deal with that. Yet he couldn’t put Sara out of his mind. She crept into every empty space in his thoughts like fresh air seeping into the hard crevices of a dark cave. His mind zinged back to the morning—when he’d awakened in bed alone. He had made a frantic search of her room. Most of her clothing was there. And the lab was still set up in the shed.

  She was coming back.

  She had to be coming back, because he couldn’t deal with the alternative.

  Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift back to that first morning in the swamp, feeling again the primal burst of attraction between them. He had wanted her then. Wanted her every moment since. Last night he had made love with her. Binding her to him for all time, the werewolf and his mate. The way his father had told him it would be.

  And instead of waking up next to her, he found she had fled.

  From him? Or was she telling the truth about going home to talk to her mother about her background.

  She’d told him she was adopted. And Delacorte had wondered if she was Jenna Foster’s daughter. The woman would be about the same age as Sara. What if they were the same person? That was hard to believe. A real coincidence. But what if it wasn’t a coincidence at all? What if somebody had brought her back to town? Back to that cabin where her mother had died.

  With a tight feeling in his throat, Adam got up and wandered back to the cabin where Sara was living now. For a long time, he simply sat in the front room, breathing in her scent. If he closed his eyes, he could picture her walking through the door. Picture himself reaching for her. Picture her melting into his embrace. But she wasn’t there. And he could torture himself only so long.

  Heaving himself out of the chair, he walked stiffly down to the supply shed, where he got out a bag of feed for the deer that frequented the park.

  He measured out the day’s portion, then headed out to the area where the animals had been coming for their handout.

  After spreading the pellets around, he stood staring for a long time at a pair of sandhill cranes poking through a marshy area. He knew from his reading about the swamp that old-timers in the area had mistaken them for whooping cranes. But they’d gotten the species wrong.

  He managed to occupy his mind with bird lore for another five minutes, then sighed and headed back to the shed with the empty plastic container. Sensing that someone was watching him, he looked up. A tall, fit-looking man was leaning against the corner of the wooden building watching Adam’s progress up the path.

  He froze in his tracks, feeling like he’d been punched in the pit of the stomach.

  The man was standing with his arms casually at his sides. Maybe he was trying to look calm. But the tension radiating off of him was like heat radiating off molten lava.

  After finding Sara gone and then his meeting with Delacorte, Adam’s own stress level had already shot through the roof. He had little control left, and the first words that came out of his mouth were, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The man gave a bark of a laugh. “That’s quite a warm greeting for your long lost brother.”

  Adam swallowed. “Sorry, Ross. You have to admit it’s a bit of a surprise seeing you here. How did you find me?”

  “I’m a private detective. I’m good at locating people. I’ve been following your moves around the country.”

  “And now you’re in Wayland, Georgia. Why now, after all these years?”

  “I know you’re investigating Ken White’s death.”

  “Oh yeah, well I don’t need your help.”

  Ross Marshall sighed. “I figured you wouldn’t.”

  Adam shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to rein in the emotions warring inside him. Some deep buried part of him wanted to stride across the space between them and embrace his brother.

  But Ross had taken him by surprise. And there was a more urgent need than that of physical contact. He wanted to protect his turf. This patch of Georgia was his. And another werewolf was invading his territory.

  He knew that was a knee-jerk reaction, the animal inside him acting on instinct, and he struggled to curb it. It appeared as if Ross had come in friendship. But was friendship between two adult werewolves really possible?

  Ross was watching him with keen, dark eyes. “I figured you were probably struggling with some personal stuff now.”

  Adam’s breath was shallow in his chest, but he gave a small shrug.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  “What’s wrong with right here?”

  “Okay. This is your dominion. You call the shots.” Ross shifted his weight from one foot to the other again. “You’re the right age to be looking for a mate.”

  When Adam didn’t speak, his brother went on. “I guess the most important thing I came down here to tell you is that I’m happily married. I met a wonderful woman. Her name is Megan. And the miracle isn’t just that she can put up with a husband with my…” He stopped and looked around, mindful that they were standing outside where anyone could come upon them. “With my wild nature.”

  “Congratulations,” Adam said.

  “The best part is that she’s a medical doctor. A geneticist. She’s done some research into our…problem. We have an extra chromosome that causes our genetic aberration. It’s a sex-linked trait. I can give you more details if you want. The bottom line is that she’s working on how to keep boys from dying when they…reach puberty. She’s got a few years to do that. Our son, Jonah, is two and a half. And she’s pregnant with our daughter.”

 
; “A girl!”

  “It’s okay,” Ross said quickly. “She’s fixed it so she doesn’t have the fatal genetic problem our sisters had.”

  Adam nodded tightly, fighting against the lump that had formed in his chest. He remembered all those babies who had died at birth. And all the brothers who hadn’t survived into adulthood because being a werewolf’s child carried a heavy chance of mortality.

  So he understood the importance of what Ross was telling him. He hadn’t been thinking about his terrible heritage when he’d been pursuing Sara. He should have been, he realized. But he’d only been focused on his own selfish needs. His own overwhelming drive to mate with her.

  “I came down here to tell you that if you find the woman you can’t run away from, Megan can help you avoid the tragedy of our parents’ life.”

  Ross paused and studied Adam, who could imagine what he looked like. Ragged around the edges. Strung out. Sick.

  “You’ve already found her, haven’t you?”

  “I’m not discussing that with you!”

  “Right. You’re too uptight to get personal with me. And I understand that. We haven’t seen each other in eight years. Maybe I should have sent you an e-mail. But once I decided to get in touch with you, I wanted to do it in person. I wanted to let you know it’s possible for us to get along with each other.”

  “You really think so?” Adam asked, unable to keep the note of scorn out of his voice.

  Ross sighed. “If you want it as much as I do, we can work it out. Violence was a big part of my adult life. I guess you’ve had some of the same problems. I’m going to raise my sons a lot differently from the way the Big Bad Wolf raised us.”

  “The Big Bad Wolf! I haven’t heard that in years. That’s right. That’s what you used to call him.” He found himself asking, “Is the old bastard still alive?”

  “Yes. And Mom, too. She’d love to see you, if you ever get up to Baltimore.”

  “But not him.”

  “He’d probably like to see you, too. For about five minutes. He might not want to be in the same room with you for long, but he’d be proud of how well you’ve done.”

  Adam gave a harsh laugh. “Proud or jealous.”

  They stood facing one another, each caught in his own thoughts. Each remembering the dysfunctional home life at the Marshall house. His mother had tried her best. But the Big Bad Wolf had dominated the family. And his idea of dinner table ambience had been a cuff on the ear for any little boy who annoyed him.

  Ross spoke first, in a firm, level voice. “I know what you went through as a kid because I went through it, too. I’m going to make sure I get along with my sons when they grow up. If I can do it with them, I can do it with you.”

  “How are you planning to accomplish that?”

  “I see a shrink once a week. He’s helping me cope with my aggressions.”

  Adam could literally feel his jaw drop open. When he’d closed it, he said, “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “I’ve never been more serious. It doesn’t hurt as much as you think.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Ross took a step back. “I came down here to make contact with you. I wanted to make sure you were all right. You can call it curiosity if you want. I call it caring about my brother. But I’m not going to push you into anything you can’t handle. I just wanted to let you know that I’d like to keep in touch. And I’m here to help you any way I can.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” Adam answered because he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

  “I know seeing me is a shock. So I’ll back off. I’m in Maryland. Howard County. I’ve got a nice patch of woods where I can roam at night. And a family I care about. You’re welcome to visit us anytime you want.”

  “Okay.”

  Ross turned away. Then he was gone. Adam wanted to run after him. But he stayed where he was. He had enough problems right now without trying to figure out how he felt about his long lost brother.

  SWALLOWING her frustration, Sara wandered out into the garden, looking toward the spot where her swing set had stood. Dad had taken it down when she’d been in her teens and replaced the old play area with a slate patio with some wrought iron furniture. Along the border were beds of tall annual phlox in white pink and lavender. They were at their peak and lovely. But the furniture was covered with dried leaves and other debris. In the utility room she found an old T-shirt, which she used to wipe off the chaise longue. The long cushion was in the garage. She brought it out and laid it on the metal frame. After sweeping off the patio, she lay down in the late afternoon sun.

  It had been a long time since she’d relaxed out here. Memories came back to her. Some good. Some bad. She had played hard in this sheltered garden by herself and with the neighborhood kids. She had helped her mother pull weeds and plant flowers.

  But there was a strong memory that dominated all the others. Out here was where she’d had her first strange experience when she was five years old.

  She’d been playing on the swing. And suddenly her head had started to pound. Like the headaches she’d had since coming to Wayland.

  The scene around her had disappeared. And she was someone else. Timmy. She was inside her childhood friend Timmy’s head.

  She didn’t know where he was. All she knew was that he was in a box where the lights were flickering. Then they went off, and it was dark and scary and closed in, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  She heard Timmy crying. Or was it herself crying? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to be there. Terrified, she yanked her mind back to herself. In the process, her hands lost their grip on the metal chains that held the swing, and she fell onto the ground, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

  The sensation left her shaking. When she could get up, she ran to the house, weeping.

  “Daddy! Daddy! I was scared. I couldn’t get out.”

  Daddy caught her in his arms.

  “What is it? What happened, sweetheart? Did you skin your knee?”

  “I was there! In the dark. I…I was inside Timmy’s head!”

  She had felt her father go very still. Over his shoulder, she saw Mommy looking down at her with a strange expression on her face.

  Daddy was saying. “You’re here with us. Right here. Everything’s okay.” His gaze burned down into hers, and he gave her a little shake. “You’re right here with us. Right here. Nowhere else.”

  He frightened her then with his eyes drilling into hers and his voice as hard as bricks. She wanted to please him. She was afraid that she might be sent away.

  So she clamped her lips shut and fought away the image behind her closed eyelids. And later, when she saw Timmy in the park, and he told her how scared he’d been when he’d gotten stuck in an elevator downtown at his doctor’s office, she listened like she didn’t already know about it.

  The next time something like that started to happen, she clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut, and somehow she fought it off. Because she would do anything to please her new parents. Anything including suppressing a part of herself that had always struggled to break out. She’d understood that part of her was bad. That it wasn’t normal. And she’d understood that her parents wanted a normal little girl.

  So here she was, in the spot where she’d had that first frightening psychic experience. Because she was all grown up, she knew what to call it. And she finally understood that repressing part of herself over the years had taken its toll. It had made her closed-up. Made her play it safe.

  Now, whatever the cost, she had to embrace her own uniqueness. And since this was where she’d first shut away part of her personality, this was where she’d come to bring it into focus.

  The trouble was, she wasn’t really sure how to invite it back.

  She made a frustrated sound. Then she thought of the pain that had drilled into her head when she’d stepped into the street before the truck came rushing toward her.

  She remembered the intensit
y of the headache. And she didn’t want to feel it again. But maybe she had to. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of a blast from a ray gun drilling into her head.

  As she tried to open herself to whatever would come next, a terrible sense of guilt clutched at her. She had been taught that this was wrong. And she had tried her best to do whatever would gain Mommy and Daddy’s approval. It was hard not to feel like she was betraying them.

  “No!” she said aloud. She wasn’t betraying them. She was an adult, and she was reaching for her true heritage.

  She’d pleased her parents with her denial. She had tried to be normal. For a while it seemed to have worked. She’d been successful in school. She’d made a life for herself. But she’d never really gotten close to anyone.

  Then she had come to Wayland, Georgia, and everything had changed. And she realized she had never felt normal. Not deep down.

  She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, trying to open herself to what she had always known was forbidden. It had happened in Wayland without her permission. It could happen here just as well. It had to happen here.

  Need was greater than fear. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, except that she was reaching out with some kind of mental hook and pulling something dangerous toward her.

  And suddenly, her consciousness was no longer in the garden. She was somewhere else. In a child’s narrow bed. In the dark. In a nightmare.

  She didn’t want to be there! Not there. And she tried with desperation born of fear to escape from the terrifying place where she found herself.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  BUT IT WAS too late for Sara to flee. She was trapped in a nightmare. In the cabin at the edge of the swamp. The same cabin, but different.

  In the front room, she could hear Daddy and Momma talking. Not the Daddy and Momma who lived in the house in Wilmington, North Carolina. The other Momma and Daddy.