Shifters 0f The Seventh Moon Complete Series Bks 1-4

by Selena Scott

  “It’s the demon,” Martine answered immediately, referring to Arturo’s master and the being that was hunting their souls. “It senses that Arturo has been taken so it wants him incapacitated. So that Arturo can’t help us.”

  “It has that much control over him?”

  Martine nodded. “They’re linked.”

  Arturo arched on the bed, his eyes flinging open for a second before he groaned and fell to his side.

  “Oh my gosh!” Caroline pushed past Tre and into the room. She fell to her knees next to Martine. She’d brought a damp towel which she used to wipe the sweat from Arturo’s chest and face.

  Tre’s hands tightened at his sides. “Caroline. I think you should step back from there.”

  She waved him off. “I’m not in danger. Look, he couldn’t hurt a fly right now.” Caroline looked down, almost tenderly, at the man who’d tried to kill them all twice, or arguably, three times already.

  “Caroline,” Tre started again.

  “He’s in so much pain,” she cut him off. “And he’s burning up. Martine, can he survive this?”

  Martine’s light green eyes were big and serious as she rose up and paced to the window, opening it a few inches to let the cool evening air waft in. “I don’t know. He and the demon are bound in such a way that the demon can’t outright kill Arturo, but he can certainly injure him. Permanently.”

  “Can we do anything?” Caroline asked anxiously.

  “You mean besides letting the bastard rot?” Thea asked, quasi-innocently, her blue eyes glinting as she redid her bun of jet black hair.

  “Thea!” Caroline was obviously amazed at the brutality of the suggestion.

  Celia, who was so far back into the opposite corner of the room that Tre hadn’t even seen her before that moment, stepped forward. Her septum piercing caught the light as she reached up to play with her dyed silver fade. Her round, slightly large features were extremely serious and a little pained. “You can’t blame her, Caroline. Arturo has hypnotized and tried to murder both me and Thea. Not to mention what he’s done to Jean Luc and Jack. That’s not the kind of thing we can forget.”

  “But…” Caroline gestured helplessly at the man on the bed, twisting in pain.

  “I know,” Celia said, stepping around Jean Luc and going to kneel next to Caroline. Jean Luc took three steps forward, as if he couldn’t stand to see Celia so close to Arturo. “It’s hard not to feel sympathy for him, all screwed up with pain like that. But you have to remember what this guy is capable of.”

  “Was capable of,” Martine said from the window. “The demon is attempting to destroy Arturo’s skills and powers as we speak. If he wakes up from this, he might be of no use to us at all.”

  “You mean the whole kidnapping thing will just be for naught?” Tre asked, stepping forward. He’d gotten scraped to hell, lost a lot of blood and experienced a shit-ton of pain all in the process of kidnapping Arturo so that he could potentially be a tool in the fight against the demon.

  Martine lifted her hands and let them drop. “The demon will be without his right-hand man, but we’ll be without Arturo’s insight into the demon’s psyche and patterns. We’ll be completely blind.”

  “Doesn’t this just keep getting better and better,” Jack muttered. Thea stepped forward and pressed her cheek between Jack’s shoulder blades, holding him from behind.

  Arturo groaned again from the bed and Tre watched as Caroline’s brow furrowed. She inched closer and reached for Arturo’s hand.

  Tre’s stomach flipped as he watched it happen. He did not like that. He didn’t like that at all. He wanted Caroline to stop cooing over this asshole’s death bed and he really didn’t want to be blind against an attack from the demon.

  “Alright, then,” Tre said, clapping one hand on Jean Luc’s shoulder and the other on Jack’s. “Sounds like we need to try to break the bond between Arturo and the demon.”

  The room turned and looked at him.

  “You think we can do that?” Jack asked incredulously.

  Tre shrugged. “We could try. Not like we’re gonna cause him more harm than this already is.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Martine said slowly. “But it would require an incredible amount of strength and control from the three of you. You’ll have to work in perfect tandem and—”

  “Everyone out,” Jean Luc said. “Except for you two.” He pointed at Jack and Tre.

  “Oh,” Thea said. “I see, just the women need to leave.”

  “Well,” Celia said logically. “They are apparently attempting to do some crazy shifter magic thingy that we know nothing about and can’t help with, so… maybe he’s got a point.”

  Tre shifted his attention to Caroline who was biting her lip and still holding Arturo’s hand. She didn’t look like she wanted to leave his side. Tre restrained the low growl of frustration in the back of his throat. “Caroline, love, you’ve gotta go too, okay?” He stepped forward and placed his fingers on her shoulder, accidentally tangling them in her hair.

  Caroline rose and faced Tre. “Just promise me you won’t hurt him, okay?”

  Frustration and annoyance stabbed through Tre. He took a deep breath and gentled his voice before he spoke out loud. Being irritated with Caroline was like cursing out a baby. “We’re gonna do the best we can.”

  Caroline let Celia tug her from the room, but she kept sending worried glances back over her shoulder, her chestnut hair tumbling everywhere and her honey brown eyes the size of half dollars.

  Martine still stood under the window. She was a shifter as well. A natural-born hawk shifter. She was also a badass demon hunter and all of them understood that she wasn’t included in the order to leave the room. She was the one who’d trained the boys to hone their gifts, after all.

  “How the hell are we gonna do this?” Jack asked, scratching at the blond stubble on his chin.

  “We’re trying to break his connection with the demon, right? Well, he’s got a connection with us, too…” Jean Luc spoke slowly. He was trying to piece it together as he went. “You think we can use that to sort of, you know, tug him back in our direction?”

  “I don’t know,” Martine said. “You’ll be putting his emotions in sort of a tug of war situation then.”

  “You don’t think he can withstand it?” Tre asked her. She was, after all, the resident expert on all things demon-related.

  “I… don’t know. Honestly, I’ve never been in a situation even remotely like this before.” She pushed off from the window and strode over to Arturo. Her palm landed on his forehead, pushing his hair back and seeking to take his temperature. She sighed. “But I know Arturo. And he’s strong. Trust me. I’ve been battling with him for centuries. The bastard just won’t die.”

  Tre couldn’t help but smile at the annoyed tone of her voice. “Then I think that’s the best plan we’ve got.”

  Arturo twisted in pain, his eyes fluttering open and then closed. His tan face blanched, going dead white.

  “Shall we, boys?” Jack asked, sighing and tossing his gray baseball cap to the side. The three of them came to stand together.

  With their eyes closed and their feelings extended in a way that none of them would have dreamed of a few months ago. They reached out for Arturo.

  The only indication that they’d gotten him was a searing pain, as if they’d picked up a hot pan from the stove. Cacophonous screeching filled their ears. If Tre had known how the hell to get away from the burn of it, he would have. But Jack and Jean Luc were there with him. They were holding on to him just as tightly.

  They could feel the parts of him that were human, and then there, in the darkness, was the tether that held Arturo to the demon. It was a horrible, reptilian connection. Cold-blooded and evil. It was like an umbilical cord wrapped around Arturo’s humanity.

  “Come on,” Tre muttered through gritted teeth. “Come with us.”

  He couldn’t see anything but black, but he could feel Arturo’s struggle. To disconnect
from the demon would be like ripping off a limb. An evil, horrifying limb, but a limb nonetheless.

  Tre and Jack and Jean Luc could all feel the heat of one another’s shoulders, they fed off the intensity and concentration of each of the brothers beside them. This was unlike anything that they’d ever done before. Yet here they were.

  Tre’s teeth clenched when he felt the tiniest bit of give. As if Arturo were testing the bonds of the demon, yanking himself toward them just a touch. The three men jumped on the opportunity, clamping down on their psychic connection with Arturo, as they tug-of-warred him back their way.

  “You have to come with us,” Tre grated out, unsure if it was in his head or out loud. “We’ll tear you in two if you don’t let go.”

  And it was those words, it seemed, that finally released Arturo from the demon’s grip. As if Arturo’s psyche had clamped down onto the demon so long ago and with such strength, that he hadn’t known how to let go. But let go he did.

  The men breathed huge, gasping gulps of air as one by one, their eyes came open. It seemed so strange, after all of that, to open their eyes to Arturo’s bedroom. He lay still and pale on the bed, the sheets soaked with sweat beneath him.

  As they watched, he drew a great breath, and some of the pain left his face. It seemed that he truly slept now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Caroline waited with the rest of the group for the boys to do whatever it was they were doing in that room with Arturo. At this point, she didn’t think anything would have surprised her. But plenty delighted her. She’d never had more fun or felt more alive in her entire life than she had the past two months. It thrilled her deeply to see the boys use their newfound magic. It thrilled her even more deeply to see them truly start to work together.

  Thea sat on the couch in the living room, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Celia paced from one side of the room to the other, her hands deep in the pockets of her high-waisted jeans. Caroline could tell that they were both worried about their men in there, doing whatever kind of telepathy kung fu they were doing.

  Caroline was definitely worried about their boys. But she couldn’t help but be worried for Arturo as well. He was in so much pain, obviously. And she’d never been able to watch a living creature endure pain. It just wasn’t who she was. She knew better than to say anything about Arturo right now, though. It was best to just keep her mouth shut.

  A very sweaty, exhausted-looking Jack stumbled through the archway of the living room and Thea shot to her feet.

  “It’s alright,” Jack said, instantly soothing her worries. “We think we did it. Severed the tie between Arturo and the demon. Whether or not he’s going to survive it remains to be seen.”

  Caroline shot to her feet and strode to Arturo’s room. She ran directly into Tre’s chest as she tried to push through the door. His shirt was sweaty and clinging to him in places. His two large hands clamped onto her shoulders. “Where are you going?”

  “To check on Arturo.”

  “He needs rest, Caroline. There’s nothing we can do right now. Besides, Martine is going to stay with him.”

  Caroline peeked over Tre’s shoulder and, indeed, saw Martine mopping at Arturo’s pale forehead with a rag. She didn’t get more of a look than that original peek, though, because Tre continued that inexorable push at her shoulders, steering her backwards away from the room.

  “Okay, okay,” Caroline said, turning to face front. “I won’t bother them. I’ll wait until I’m needed.”

  Her shoulders slumped a little as Tre let her go. She didn’t stop walking until she was in the confines of her own room, the door closed behind her.

  She was always in the way. Even when she wanted to be helping. Sometimes it seemed that she was in the way especially when she was trying to help. She hated that feeling. She’d spent so many years rambling around her house in Massachusetts, nothing to do but watch the cleaning ladies polish the immaculately designed furniture. Or watch the gardener weed the gorgeous flower gardens. Or spy on their housekeeper while she made three meals a day for them. Caroline had been of absolutely no use to anyone. Especially to her husband, Peter, who hadn’t even needed her for wifely reasons. He’d had other women for that.

  “Ex-husband,” she whispered to herself. “Ex.”

  She’d sent the signed papers in two weeks ago. She was no longer Mrs. Caroline Clifton. Now she was Ms. Caroline Clifton, thank you very much. She wondered what she’d do with her last name. She’d been a Clifton for eight years, it seemed strange to change it now.

  She heard the group moving about the old, rickety farmhouse, probably about to prepare dinner. Caroline was tempted to go down and help, but she feared getting pushed away again, getting told that she wasn’t needed. So instead she padded over to the creaky double bed she’d been sleeping in. She flopped down and kicked off her neat little flats.

  She loved this bedroom, with its intricate lace duvet and whitewashed walls. Everything was white on white in this guest room, except for the paintings on the walls, gray and blue misty shapes that perfectly captured the view of the mountain range outside her window. When Thea had shown Caroline to the room, she’d told her that her grandfather had painted those pictures.

  This was her favorite of all the places they’d stayed so far. The air was dry and hot during the afternoons, cool at night. And the quiet, good Lord, the quiet! It was an alive sort of quiet, filled with ambient life. She loved it.

  Her phone chirped on the nightstand and Caroline rolled over immediately. Another Tinder notification. Yay!

  Ever since she’d signed her divorce papers, Caroline had been Tindering her ass off, and man, was it fun.

  Though she’d been a dud of a wife, apparently she was viewed on Tinder as quite a catch, because she had pretty constant attention from the male species. She opened up the app and saw that she had unread messages from sixteen different men. Some of them were continued conversations that she’d already started and some of them were new.

  With a little smile on her face, Caroline started texting back.

  “Blech,” Caroline winced and immediately deleted two different sets of unsolicited dick pics. But c’est la vie! She moved right on and replied to the more gentlemanly men in the group. If she had to say so herself, she was getting pretty good at flirting.

  Which was a huge relief to her because Peter had been pretty much immune to any attempts she’d made at flirting. Some days she could barely get him to look up from his phone, no matter what she did or said, no matter what she was, or wasn’t, wearing. It had supremely shaken her confidence.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand and it was a number that she didn’t recognize. She thought nothing of answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Caroline.”

  “Peter! Oh. Your number is different.” After so many months of silence, it was strange to hear his voice.

  “Yeah. Listen, Caroline, my lawyer just contacted me. I thought I should let you know that everything went well. The papers are filed.”

  “We’re divorced.” Her voice was quiet, not from pain or sadness, but more from the slow, strange acclimation to a new life. She was still getting used to all this. She was learning how to be divorced from Peter when they were living completely different lives. But talking to him on the phone and being divorced from him suddenly seemed like a completely different set of skills.

  “Correct.” There was silence on the line for a minute. “Listen, I want to buy you out of the Swampscott house.”

  “I—what?” She’d known that was a possibility, but to actually hear him say that he wanted to give her money to never return to the house she’d lived in for the last eight years was very strange indeed.

  He cleared his throat. “I want to own it, Caroline. I want to live there.”

  “By yourself.”

  He cleared his throat. “With Courtney.”

  “Courtney is your… girlfriend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And y
ou wanna live in the Swampscott house with her.”

  “Yes.”

  But you never wanted to live there with me. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Caroline had told herself that Peter used to stay so often in his condo in Boston proper because he hadn’t liked the drafty, modern glass monstrosity on the bluff any more than she had. The house was too cold and impersonal. To design-y, not homey. But turned out, he liked the house fine. It was her that he hadn’t wanted to live with. She took a long breath.

  “Okay. Whatever you want to pay me for it is fine. It’s yours. I just… I don’t want to have to do anything on my end. Just take care of it.”

  She knew he would. Peter was always taking care of things neatly and efficiently. Just not her. He never took care of her.

  “Oh.” He was surprised by her immediate acquiescence about her place of residence. He cleared his throat. “Alright. I’ll get it straightened out with Gary over the next few weeks. And I’ll let you know when it’s all done.”

  She didn’t know who Gary was, but she expected he was some lawyer or realtor or banker or someone she’d been introduced to before. She knew that asking Peter would irritate him, so she just hummed her agreement to the plan. He wouldn’t cheat her out of money. That much she knew.

  He would never leave a paper trail of his antipathy toward her.

  “Caroline,” he said slowly, like he was speaking to someone with a fresh head injury. “You’ll have to be out of the house as soon as possible. I’ll send movers over, they can even help you pack—”

  “I’m already moved out.” Caroline gaped in surprise at the white-washed walls that surrounded her. Peter didn’t know that she’d moved out? That meant that he hadn’t even walked into the Swampscott house in months.

  “You what?”

  “Peter, I moved out two and a half months ago.” When she’d decided to follow the map to Northern Michigan, she’d completely moved out of the Swampscott house, putting some things in storage and giving away almost everything else. She hadn’t completely accepted her divorce at the time, but she’d known that she wouldn’t be returning to that house. She hadn’t even wanted to. She’d had enough cool east coast wind, steely gray views of the Atlantic to last her a lifetime. She wanted color in her life. She wanted warmth.