Moon of Shadows

by H. D. Gordon

  While the others chatted around us, into my head, Devon said, “I love them just as much as you do, you know.”

  I loosed a low sigh and nodded once. I did know.

  “And I love you, too,” he added.

  I nodded again.

  Then, there was a scream that was so high-pitched that it set my sensitive ears to ringing. All the Wolves at the table slapped their hands over the sides of their heads, including myself.

  The shock of it was such that the reason for the scream wasn’t processed instantly. The first thing I realized was that the shriek had come from Ana, who now had her little hand clapped over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

  Following on the heels of this was the blood, a spray of scarlet that dotted the white tablecloth, flecked the glasses of water and the silverware.

  And, finally, the arrow that had caused the commotion.

  Sticking straight out of Demarco’s neck.

  I felt a fine mist of warm blood spray my face.

  Things after that happened in a series of rapid moments that felt too surreal to be really taking place. Everyone was on their feet at once as Demarco’s eyes went wide and his head crashed to the side. He fell to the sidewalk with a thud.

  Someone, I wasn’t sure who, exactly, had the right mind to pull the twins and Delia away. Now, more than Ada was crying and screaming, but I could barely hear it over the rushing of blood in my ears.

  I stared at the slumped figure of my little brother, at the arrow protruding from his neck, unable to accept what I was seeing.

  Kyra was by Demarco’s side, trying to get him on his back with shaking hands. She tried to heal him with magic, but it didn’t seem to have any effect.

  I wasn’t sure how I got there, but I knelt beside him, my knees buckling beneath me as I watched blood gush out of his neck to pool on the sidewalk.

  The arrow needed to come out, but once it did, the blood would rush out even faster. I couldn’t seem to think straight. Each passing second felt like an eternity of agony as I looked at the wide, terrified eyes of my little brother.

  The breath tore in and out of me as I covered the wound with my fingers, which became slick with blood the moment I touched him.

  I didn’t recognize the sound of my own voice when I spoke. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay, little brother.”

  But it was not okay. And I didn’t need to be a healer to know it. The arrow had struck a vulnerable artery in his neck, the same one that I often severed on my prey when I went on hunts, and I knew that he had only seconds.

  I knew that it happened that fast.

  I glanced up and around, the scene flashing around me; the horrified faces of our loved ones, the stunned crowd of strangers that had stopped in their motions to gawk. I think I screamed for help, but it very well could have just been in my head.

  I looked back down at Demarco, at my youngest brother, as the light began to fade in his eyes, as his lovely light brown skin slowly turned an ashen white.

  As he used his last bit of energy, his very last moments, to speak into my head.

  “I hope… you’re proud of me…” he said.

  And something vital inside me broke.

  No, something shattered. Into a million pieces that would never be restored.

  I released my hold on his wound, the blood flow having slowed as his heartbeat did the same, and brushed a bit of his curly hair back from his forehead. My fingers left smears of blood there, but I kissed the spot I’d kissed a thousand times before, after sending him off to bed, or greeting him good morning.

  I would never do either of those things again.

  “I’m more proud of you than I’ve ever been of anyone,” I told him. “And I have loved you the same.”

  As the last of the light left his eyes, a small smile pulled up his lips at my words, blood bubbling through his teeth as his body shuddered a final time.

  I sat on the sidewalk, holding him in my arms, his still-warm blood covering my hands.

  The Guards and medics came, the latter pronouncing Demarco dead on arrival only moments after having arrived.

  Someone, likely Kyra, had the mind to get the others home, while Devon and I stayed to answer questions and handle the authorities. We did all of this in a daze. As it was such a public execution, there was no getting around it.

  When the officers questioning us asked if we had any idea who could have done such a horrific thing, Demarco held his tongue as he waited for my instruction.

  I told them we had no idea whatsoever, and Devon only shook his head in agreement.

  I did not need the Guards’ help to handle this. I only needed them to stay out of my way.

  When they carried my youngest brother’s body away, the officers expressed their sympathy, telling Devon and me to go home and get some rest, and that they would call on us if they had any further questions.

  Then I stood on the street corner outside, looking down at my feet, where the pool of blood had begun to dry.

  I started off in the direction of home. I needed to wash the blood away, if only so that I could spill more.

  Devon hurried to keep pace beside me, and I was in such a state that I hardly remembered he was even there.

  “Dita, wait,” Devon said into my head.

  I shifted into my Wolf and ran home. I went to the stream and shifted back, washing the blood from my body in the cold water, but hardly feeling a thing.

  I went to the house and up to my room. I passed Zara and Cora, but they did not speak, did not stop me. They were both smart ladies.

  Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I shucked off my clothes and donned some new ones. I braided my hair back, pulled on my boots, and strapped the duel holster belt around my hips.

  I went back downstairs to the library, where I knew they would all be waiting for me.

  Everyone but the twins and Nyla, who was no doubt with the twins.

  Delia’s face was red and splotchy, her sobs deep and gut wrenching. The rest looked both shocked and horrified. The heartache for them would start later. The same as it would for me.

  After the matter was handled.

  I looked at Devon, whose expression was as dark as the night of a new moon.

  “Give me the guns,” I said.

  Devon did not argue. He handed them over. I checked the chambers and slid the weapons into place on my hips. The weight of them felt right, justified, even.

  I turned to go.

  “Dita, please wait,” Kyra said.

  I stopped, my hands clenching into fists.

  “I will not,” I said without turning around to face her. “Waiting is the reason Demarco is dead. This ends now.”

  “But we can’t be sure of anything,” she said. “We don’t know who did this.”

  I looked over my shoulder at her, and from the expressions on my family members’ faces, I knew that my eyes were glowing Wolf-gold while my face remained deadpan.

  “I don’t need you to be sure of anything,” I said. “I don’t need any of you to be sure. I’m not asking permission.”

  Devon had taken a spot by the windows after handing me the irons, and he sighed and said, “It was Bain. There is little doubt of it. I see now I’ve been a fool. A terrible fool.” He said that last part to himself, but I did not disagree.

  “But if Dita goes and kills him, it will start a war with Cartier,” Kyra said. “We need to think before we act. Is a war what we want?”

  “Go and kill the son of a bitch. Kill both of them,” Delia snarled, her hand on her slowly swelling belly and fire in her bloodshot eyes. She looked directly at me for what seemed the first time in weeks. “You make them pay for what they’ve done.”

  I nodded, the promise in my eyes, and turned to go.

  “This is my fault,” Devon said, and though I could see the heartache in his eyes, I could not sympathize. Not just then. Maybe not ever.

  “You’re right,” I said, the words much harsher than my flat, cold tone ma
de them sound. “This is your fault, and I’m going to fix it, like I always do.”

  When I turned to go, no one tried to stop me, despite the fact that we all knew there was no way to fix what had been broken.

  Not this time.

  Chapter 27

  I stood just beyond the border of Cartier’s estate, looking over the land he owned with cold eyes. Security was tight, as I’d known it would be.

  But that would not be a problem. They were going to let me walk right in the front doors.

  And that is what I did.

  I slipped my hands into my pockets and strolled out of the concealment of my vantage point. I walked right up to the gate that surrounded the property and hopped over it.

  As soon as my feet hit the other side, two Wolves in beast form stalked over to me, their lips pulled back over their teeth as they growled at my intrusion.

  I met the gazes of the two unflinchingly. “Take me to your Alpha,” I said.

  The two Wolves exchanged glances, but after a moment, they turned to lead me toward the big house, one walking behind and one walking in front. A third Wolf in mortal form came and took my guns from me. I handed them over without protest, and we continued our march.

  The yard was quiet, but I could sense multiple sets of eyes on me. Cartier had indeed built himself an impressive and powerful Pack. The fence surrounding the estate was tall and constantly patrolled, and just from what I observed, there were Wolves on the rooftop of the big house and stationed at the doors and main gate.

  I supposed if you were going to be in the business of murdering rivals, it was wise to live within a fortress.

  Which was why I’d known I could not just charge in guns blazing and kill Cartier and Bain. I would be taken out before I made it ten feet onto the property. On top of that, Kyra was right about starting a war; if I took out Bain or Cartier, the exchange of death between our families would continue on until none of us were left.

  That left one option, so it was a rather simple choice.

  The three Wolves led me to the front of the house, but I was not let inside. Instead, I was made to stand just beyond the porch and wait while they fetched their master.

  I waited patiently as ten minutes ticked by, then fifteen.

  More Wolves of the Cartier Pack began to gather, clearly curious about the female standing on their front lawn. That was just fine with me. In fact, it was perfect. An audience was just what I wanted.

  After making me wait a few moments longer, just to add insult to injury, Carson Cartier appeared on the upper deck of his massive house. Arsen Bain, the bald headed, pale bastard, came out and stood behind him.

  Into my head, Bain said, “I was hoping I’d get to see you again, little Wolf.”

  I met his icy blue gaze. “And here I am.”

  Cartier and Bain looked down at me where I stood below them, and Cartier had the nerve to play dumb.

  “To what do we owe this pleasure, Miss Silvers?” Cartier asked.

  My hands clenched into fists in my pockets, but I managed to keep my posture and expression cool. “I’m here because you murdered my brother,” I said in a flat tone.

  Cartier and Bain exchanged a brief glance, and if there had been any doubt in my mind before, there was none now.

  “The way I understand it,” Cartier replied, “you tried to kill my second. Shot at him with a gun… A coward’s weapon. A human’s weapon. Surely you knew I could not let that stand.”

  “My brother was innocent.”

  Cartier’s head cocked to the side. “Are any of us really innocent? And perhaps you and your other brother should have been more diplomatic in our dealings. Some might say this is your fault, not mine. Your brother would likely be alive if you all had not been so proud and stubborn.”

  I held the Alpha’s gaze.

  “Of course,” Cartier continued, a little smirk coming to his face, “it was yet another foolish move for you to come here. Now that we’ve had this conversation, I can’t very well let you leave. What’s to keep you from going to the Guard?”

  Cartier clicked his tongue, and the three Wolves that had escorted me moved as if to constrain me.

  I made sure my next words rang out loud and clear.

  “I formally challenge you, Carson Cartier, in front of your Pack, for your position as Alpha.”

  Silence fell for a heartbeat or two, and then Cartier chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m as serious as the dead, Mr. Cartier,” I replied loudly enough that everyone could hear me. “Do you accept my challenge, or do you forfeit your position, like the coward that you are?”

  The smug expression melted from Cartier’s face. He knew as well as I did that he must accept or forfeit. It was an old law among our kind, but a firm one. No Pack, no matter how loyal, would respect an Alpha who refused to fight for his position. The very act alone would disqualify him as their leader.

  Because no matter how much the world changed, no matter how much progress was made, in the world of the Wolves, it was dog-eat-dog, and only the strongest survived.

  Everyone present knew that Cartier had no choice, and there was a silent ripple of excitement that moved over those listening as their Alpha nodded his head.

  “Very well, Miss Silvers,” he said. “I accept the challenge. Tell your brother to come at midnight, or to endure the shame of his cowardice.”

  I shook my head, a cold smile tugging up my lips. “You misunderstand me. I will be fighting for the position, and you can rest assured that I will be here.”

  With this, utter silence fell. I turned my heels and receded down the front drive of the massive house, feeling the multiple sets of eyes following me.

  No one stopped me on my way out.

  “I won’t let you do it,” Devon said. “It should be me.”

  We were gathered around the long table in the dining room, everyone present and as silent and solemn as a funeral party. Which, I supposed, we were.

  “You have no say in the matter,” I said without inflection. I sat at the head of the table, with no appetite and numb to the world. “And we both know I’ve got a much better chance of winning.”

  “Against a proper Alpha with the full strength of his Pack behind him?” Devon said. “Dita, this is suicide, and we already lost–”

  The look I gave him had him snapping his mouth shut and reconsidering his words.

  “We can’t stand to lose you, too,” he whispered, but the gathered were so quiet that everyone clearly heard him.

  From the looks on most of their faces, I could see that this was indeed their fear.

  They didn’t think I could beat Cartier one-on-one, or at least, they didn’t think my odds of doing so were good.

  More than choosing not to be offended by this, I felt little about their feelings on the matter at all. It had already been decided, and I would have my pound of flesh, one way or another.

  But Devon was not entirely wrong with his point about Cartier being a proper Alpha. While I had assumed all the leadership roles in our family until recently, I had never been officially installed as our Alpha. Doing so required the agreement of everyone in the Pack, even those non-Wolves with whom we shared a home, and a magical binding ceremony to lock the position into place.

  Beyond those formalities, however, there were also other benefits to being an official Alpha. Those benefits included enhanced strength, and the ability to make partial shifts into our Wolf forms. Only an official Alpha could draw from the collective energy of the Pack and use it to control the magic of the shift to meet their needs.

  When my siblings and I had cut and run from the Midlands and our home at The Mound, we had never reclaimed the title of Alpha from our father, had never broken our pact to him. As far as the Alpha magic went, that of our Pack was still his. In order to strip him of it, we would need to break the magical bond we shared to him, and all the others would need to pledge their loyalty.

  On top of that, our father would know if
we attempted such a thing, and while we’d been lucky that he had not tracked us down in the past three years (for all I knew he didn’t care to) something like revoking his Alpha status over us might be just the thing to encourage him to give finding us a try.

  In other words, I was at a serious disadvantage against Cartier. As a female, I was also smaller and not as strong. If I had one advantage, it would be my speed.

  So we ate dinner in silence, everyone too downcast to look up from their plate, mostly pushing food around with their forks rather than actually eating. They all knew me well enough to know that when I’d made up my mind about something, there was no point in trying to stop me.

  When the clock struck eight, the sun finally sinking fully behind the horizon as the days lengthened with the pending summer, I stood from the table and headed out to sit on the front porch. I wished none of the others would follow, but of course, that was not likely with the impending situation.

  It was Delia who came to me first, which was a surprise.

  She took a seat on the porch steps beside me as I stared out at the quiet land spread out in front of us. We sat in silence for several moments before she worked up the nerve to speak.

  “Dita,” my little sister said quietly, and I could not remember the last time I’d heard her speak my name. We’d hardly said two words to each other in the last moon cycle.

  Then, she started crying, covering her face and sobbing into her hands.

  I let out a low sigh and scooted closer on the step, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Something in my cold heart eased when she leaned into me, burying her face in my shoulder.

  “Shh,” I murmured as I smoothed my hand over her soft hair. “It’s okay… Everything is going to be okay.”

  They were the same words I’d said to Demarco, and though no one knew this but me, they only made Delia cry harder. She pulled back and looked up at me with flooding eyes. She took my hands and squeezed them hard enough to hurt.