Lunar Marked (Sky Brooks Series Book 4)

by McKenzie Hunter

  Winter jumped out and ran after him, calling after him to stop. Winter was fast, but he was faster, darting through the trees in a panic, looking over his shoulder at her. I drove up and then bolted out of the car to cut him off at the path. I ran through the thicket, over the uneven terrain, finding it hard to get my footing. The man-animal didn’t have any problems—he ran through the area at speeds that pushed Winter and me. We had gone deep in the woods, and I had cornered him from the back. She had him in the front, and the crowd of trees on each side of him would make it difficult to negotiate without getting caught.

  Panting, he looked between us, his eyes glowing with a predator’s ire. He looked scared enough to be erratic. He obviously felt trapped and would do anything to get away. “Hi.” Winter finally spoke in a low, calming voice. He couldn’t focus. His head kept scanning the area, his body tensed and ready to strike at any moment. I wondered how long had he had been out here. His clothing was dirty, his blond hair and haggard short beard dingy from dirt. His skin was pale and hadn’t been exposed to the sun in some time.

  “What’s your name?” Winter continued, lightly and soothingly.

  He relaxed but wouldn’t look her directly in the face, something she needed. She needed him to look her in the eyes, so that she could charm him. He turned to look at me, and I smiled.

  “I’m Skylar. You can call me Sky,” I said, my voice matching Winter’s. Inching a little closer, I asked gently, “Are you lost? We can help you.”

  He kept saying our names over and over as if they held some importance, and when he finally spoke his voice was deep and hoarse as though he hadn’t used it in some time. “Sebastian, do you know him?”

  “Yes, we know him. We can take you to him,” Winter said, taking small cautious steps toward him. Fear had made him unpredictable. The wrong move and we didn’t know if he would attack or run. His wild eyes kept scanning the area, ears perked at the slightest sound, and he was so withdrawn, he was coiled mass on the brink of explosion.

  “Did someone tell you to find him?” I asked.

  He responded with a shaky nod and then his head shot up at the sound of approaching steps, and the panic returned. He darted out past Winter, knocking her to the ground, and ran. I took off after him, but couldn’t get close enough to stop him. He changed direction from the sounds I heard in the distance: a car, male voices, the pounding of footsteps. His speed increased and he darted around the trees as heading toward the street. By the time I got there, Winter was waiting by the car, scanning the area.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked between gasps of breath.

  She shook her head. The smell of car fuel wafted through the air, along with a sage and pine mixture that people used to mask their scent. It worked well if you were hiding from a shapeshifter—it was an irritant and made tracing a scent impossible.

  “I think someone grabbed him,” Winter said, kneeling over the tire marks near me.

  “We need to go to Abigail’s,” Winter suggested as we got in the car. When the discussion of weird hybrids is ever in question, the elves are usually people of interest. In Elysian I was introduced to unique hybrid animals that didn’t exist in the regular world, including their mishaps, which were hidden away in the heavily warded dark forest.

  Winter was noticeably tense as we pulled into the driveway of the two-story home. The Doric pillars that encircled the porch gave it a palatial feel with a hint of pretense that embodied Winter’s ex-girlfriend’s persona. Abigail’s father once ruled the elves, and due to their antiquated and misogynistic rules, she would never hold such honors, but she didn’t let a little thing like that stop her. She manipulated her way into power through her brother, who had declined the nomination for the position because he considered it only a result of his people’s love for his father, who had ruled for over seventy years. But when he was poisoned and nearly killed, he assumed it was a political move to ensure that he would never accept the position. He wasn’t aware that his sister was behind it, and for the pack’s silence about it. Abigail and Sebastian colluded to incite a civil war against the Makellos, who were the self-indoctrinated elven elite, in order to force the elves to be under one rule—her brother’s. Sebastian and Abigail had formed an alliance, and her brother was none the wiser. He only knew that the pack had saved his life and his sister was at his side, appalled that someone would dare attack her brother for political gain.

  The underhanded dealing, colluding, and manipulation were done to protect Ethan, who should have been killed based on a covenant made by everyone to contain Dunkell, dark elves.

  Abigail greeted Winter with a smile, and when she stepped forward to hug her, Winter recoiled, frowned, and stepped back. The vertical slits that I hadn’t seen in sometime flickered.

  Abigail’s smile melted as she moved back several feet. Their appearances were complete opposites: she was as pale as Winter was dark. An abundance of long platinum hair, usually in a French braid, was loose and draped over her shoulder. Abigail’s frame was very similar to Winter’s tall, sleek body, but her features mirrored her brother’s in a bizarre way. They were far too similar to be fraternal twins. Abigail and Gideon both possessed distinctive and androgynous features of narrow face, sharp defined cheeks and jawline, thin aquiline nose, and pale lashes that veiled violet eyes.

  “We saw something quite odd today, and I believe Liam may be responsible,” Winter said, taking a seat on the sofa. Abigail started to join her but was deterred with a sharp look. She stepped back, opting for the armchair across from her.

  “And what was that?” Her smile was genteel and warm and may have worked on anyone other than Winter, who wasn’t able to forgive her for using her as a pawn as Abigail executed her scheme to get her brother into power as the new leader of the elves.

  “We saw a man today who looked like an animal in a human body. His eyes were that of an animal, although he was human form. He was definitely not a were-animal. Is Liam experimenting with humans?”

  Abigail was a skilled liar and a gifted performer. The presentation she put on when her brother was found nearly dead was worthy of an award. I wouldn’t trust whatever came out of her mouth even if her tongue was notarized and she swore on a stack of holy books. I believed Winter felt the same way. She stilled, watching Abigail closely, paying attention to her. Sebastian and Ethan were masters of studying the physiological changes to detect a lie. Gavin was nearly as good but the rest of them had to work a little harder at it and I was still a novice.

  Winter looked in Abigail’s direction but refused to give her the courtesy of any emotions. Abigail’s lips pulled into a thin line, and she looked at Winter. Winter looked through her. Winter ascribed to the belief that there wasn’t a thin line between love and hate, but there was one between love and indifference. Feeling nothing for a person was worse than hate in Winter’s mind.

  Parting her lips to speak, Abigail quickly closed them instead. Taking a moment, she considered her words, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft and entreating. “Winter, I didn’t enjoy deceiving you.”

  Winter’s empty gaze peered through her, and when she spoke, her intonation was as devoid of emotions as her look. “Whether or not you enjoyed it isn’t what bothers me, it’s the fact that you did it. I thought we were better than that.” Winter leaned forward, studying her. “Do you think Liam has anything to do with it?”

  “Is Liam capable of doing something so cruel? Of course, and probably worse; but he knows it would not be tolerated and violates our laws. If it were ever discovered that he was doing such things, he and anyone involved would be severely punished. With everything that has transpired recently we would have discovered it, if it were going on.”

  Winter and I gave her our undivided attention. “The ward fell two weeks ago in Elysian and your pack and the elves helped Liam contain everything. Sebastian and your pack have been very helpful with cleaning up Liam’s mess. It was very kind of him to help; it was only fitting that Liam forg
ave him of the debt he had incurred to help Kelly.” Sebastian wasn’t busy cleaning up Liam’s mess—he was cleaning up ours and had his debt forgiven in the process.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. We removed the curse and apparently shattered wards as well. My chest was so tight that breathing was becoming a problem. And the chorus of the clusterfuck song played over and over in my head because that was exactly what this was.

  “Was everything that escaped recovered?” I asked. If not, the strange man we saw today might not be the only thing running rampant in the city. What would be the reaction of someone who saw an okapi/horse hybrid, like the one I rode when I was there? Or worse, something that was kept hidden in the dark forest? One of the creatures paralyzed Kelly, and it took another bloodsucking creature from there to repair her. Sebastian left the dark forest with talon-like claw marks on his back.

  “Yes,” Abigail said, barely turning her head in my direction, keeping her focus on Winter. Her entreating eyes and delicate features belied the power-thirsty ice princess who kept a handle on politics and the strings that controlled her brother, as well as her skills of manipulating the weather as an elemental elf

  Abigail’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sebastian didn’t tell you?” She chuckled. “Of course he hasn’t.” She sighed and then rolled her eyes. “I forgot, I’ve been ordered to stay away from you.”

  At Winter’s silence, Abigail continued, amused. “He seems to believe his control extends further than the pack. Perhaps he felt one way of ensuring that was to make sure we are never around each other. Your pack has been very busy cleaning up Liam’s mess.”

  “Are the wards up?” I asked.

  “Yes, the ones to Elysian and to the dark forest are in place and I hope they hold this time. My brother and the others have taken notice. This is a problem, something that I am sure would not have happened if my brother were in control of the Makellos.” I held my tongue and didn’t tell her it would have.

  Winter was the first one to stand, declining Abigail’s invitation to stay longer. She hadn’t looked at Abigail for most of the visit, and it bothered Abigail. We had more things to worry about than Abigail’s hurt feelings. I couldn’t help but wonder when we would find ourselves faced with a taloned creature that had escaped from the dark forest and was wreaking havoc on the city.

  It was close to eleven at night and I had given up on the idea that I would hear from Ethan or Sebastian regarding the information Abigail gave us today. My mind kept revisiting everything that went on earlier and the things that had occurred since we removed the curse. The ward was back up in the dark forest, that was good. I really didn’t care if Elysian was exposed; it would serve those snobs right if people just starting visiting it like it was the new local weekend resort. It was a beautiful place that they had created just for them. Their egos wouldn’t take the idea that mere humans were enjoying their things. They didn’t want elves that were half human or any part human near it. Elysian was to be enjoyed by those considered pure and untainted by what they considered the weakest, humans.

  The jackal that was able to perform magic, the manimal, unrestricted Tre’ase, and vampires that were no longer inhibited by sunlight were on the list of the new things that had occurred in the past two weeks. I conceded. Claudia was right, we should have the Clostra. We needed to fix this, and without all three books, I wasn’t sure how we would.

  Steven was in his room. Any other time I would have been there with him or he would have been in here but he spent most of the time packing. Stay away from Quell. That was all I needed to do and my life would get easier. It was hard letting go of him: as much as I believed I was there to help him, he was there to help me. David kept me anchored to humanity, and Quell helped me stay firmly in the middle, away from a darker side that seemed to be at every corner.

  Steven’s moving out seemed to be going faster than his arrival. When he moved in, it was a molasses-slow transition. He slowly moved his things in, infiltrating my space day by day until I realized more of his things were in my home than his, and before I knew it I had a housemate. At first I minded it, but it didn’t take long for me to like having him here.

  Sitting up in my bed, I scanned my laptop. Gibberish jumped off the pages. I had been distracted, and the assessment that I was working on for my job reflected it. It wasn’t my best work and would probably shatter the fragile existence of said job. With a deadline in forty-eight hours I didn’t have the luxury of procrastination. I deleted the pages and started typing trying to put together a coherent evaluation of the private practice that I had assessed a couple of days ago.

  I heard the thunderous sound of a door breaking open—I assumed my front door—and then the window in my room shattered, spraying glass. Several fragments became imbedded into my arm as I attempted to protect my eyes. I tossed my laptop aside and leapt for the sword. A man swung through the window, his gun aimed at me. I lunged to the side as bullets whizzed past me. I was at an awkward angle when I swung the sword but was able to thrust with enough force to sever the arm. Blood spurted as it dropped in front of me. Howling in pain, the man lunged at me; a side toss got him out the way in time for me to grab the arm of the other man as his elbow jutted into my face and he jerked the sword out of my hand. Grasping his arm, I pulled it into extension and jabbed my fist into the joint, breaking it. He stumbled back, and I thrusted the palm of my hand into his nose, swiped his leg, and kicked the gun he dropped out of his reach.

  I doubt I would get any answers, but before I could question them, I responded to the sound of wood splintering, drywall smashing, and brutal fighting coming from the other room. Sword in hand I ran, moving around the pools of blood on the floor. The crashing sound magnified, and when I got to the living room there was a man on the ground, his throat open, a butcher knife tossed at his feet. Another man’s head was turned at an odd angle, motionless, a few feet from Steven. He had a third man in a chokehold. The seconds crawled by and eventually the man lay withered at Steven’s feet.

  Steven stood and whipped around in my direction, feral as gold rolled over his eyes, lips drawn back, a vicious growl vibrating in his chest. Calming him down wasn’t an option, I needed him fight ready. We waited for more, and after several minutes, standing in defensive stances prepared to fight, it seemed like that was it. Five men sent to my home, but we weren’t sure if it was for both of us or one in particular.

  Three out of the five men who attempted to ambush us were alive. The man whose arm I severed wasn’t any use, drifting in and out of consciousness. The man with the broken arm had been secured with belts and ropes and sat against the wall refusing to talk to us. The guy Steven had rendered unconscious was bound, too, but tight-lipped.

  “Who sent you?” Steven asked after checking them for any identifying information. Nothing.

  The man whose arm I broke seemed to be the leader, and if the other ones looked like they were prepared to speak, one glare from him and they reconsidered.

  “Who fucking sent you?” Steven demanded. He slammed the man’s head into the wall.

  Steven’s breathing still hadn’t returned to normal. Ragged growl-like sounds escaped with each expiration. Now more beast than man, I expected him to shift into his coyote, but he didn’t. Gently touching his arm, I covered his hand, forcing myself to calm hoping it would affect him. If he killed them, we wouldn’t find out anything and he looked like he was just moments from doing just that. By the time he was calm enough to interrogate them again, Sebastian walked in.

  Broken Arm’s stern, defiant look faltered at the sight of Sebastian. Steven could be ferocious, having a limited but symbiotic relationship with his animal that allowed remnants of his humanity to peek through. There was a glimpse of hope that he was capable of clemency—even mercy. Sebastian’s bestial ways shrouded his humanity nearly into obscurity, giving you the impression that interaction would never be anything other than primal, stripped to its very essence. He possessed no mercy to give, and it showed profoundly on
his face.

  He walked closer, grabbing the knife off the floor, with the look of annoyance and anger expected from anyone who was awakened from his bed at one in the morning. He inched closer to Broken Arm and then knelt down to eye level with him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. Sebastian held the knife casually at his side, but I knew not to underestimate his lethalness with any sharp object. I’d seen him at work with a sword—skills and speed that would rival a machine’s.

  Sebastian’s voice was so soft it could have induced a tranquil calm. But Broken Arm wasn’t comforted by it. Perhaps he had dealt with people enough to know there was always a calm before the storm and he was preparing himself for Sebastian’s wrath. Like a gentle snow, before you are hit by a blizzard that you may not survive.

  He looked over at the guy whose arm was severed and looked stricken by a new fear.

  Sebastian was gentler than I expected, but I guess he didn’t need to yell or sound angry while holding a knife that was positioned in a manner to cause damage at whim.

  “There were five, now you have three. I am prepared to allow all three to walk out of here—I am also prepared not to. Who sent you?”

  The man’s lips tightened for a mere second; he looked at the knife in Sebastian’s hand then made an effort to hold his gaze. A hapless endeavor, because most people couldn’t hold it—most people didn’t want to.

  “I don’t know who actually paid us. We had an intermediary.”

  “Who was that?”

  Broken Arm inhaled a ragged breath as his eyes roved over the room at his fallen partners, the blood-soaked carpet, and back to Sebastian’s stone-set face that hadn’t faltered once since he had positioned himself in front of him. The cognac-colored eyes could switch from warm and gentle to hard and cold in just a blink.