Crescent Moon

by Bevill, C. L.

  The little were didn’t look away from Ula but merely stared back. Ula was unnerved on some level, but she was too obstinate to let the other one know of her discomfort. Threats weren’t going to do anything for her, but the Council didn’t need to know that at the moment. All Ula could do was surmise reasons that the Council wanted to keep Whitfield Dyson on ice, and none of those reasons were ones that would make the were world happy. Had he told them that the flash drive was in his office? Had the Council discovered that was where Ula had been searching just before the explosions? It was all more than likely.

  “Claire Bennett is dead to you,” the little were said. “It’s all you need to know. Go tell your parents, and let it go.” She paused ominously and added, “While we’re inclined to do so.”

  Ula had been expecting the worse from the day that Claire hadn’t returned to the pens, but the cold, hard words were a thousand times worse. Her eyes fluttered shut while she attempted to control her reaction. After a long minute, she opened them again to find the little were gone.

  Chapter 6

  “Oh, you can’t help that. We’re all mad here.”

  – The Cheshire Cat, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

  ~

  Then

  The darkness pushed at them, and dirt occasionally rained down on them. Ula’s ankle throbbed as it healed. The bones knit together, but they were wrong and it felt incorrect. Tendons strained and muscles stretched painfully. The only thing that was right was the feeling she had when the other were touched her. It was a random brush of his fingers, and then his hand settled on her shoulder, the bare flesh of his digits making contact with the bare flesh exposed by the ripped scrubs.

  She didn’t protest. She didn’t want to protest. Other choices had been taken from her but they had felt wrong. This…this doesn’t feel wrong.

  The were didn’t force Ula to allow the touch. He had choked her unconscious and although the act sounded repugnant, she wasn’t unrealistic. He had done it to save her life. Hers and his, as well. If he hadn’t done it, she would have been buried in Dyson’s office. He might have been right beside her.

  He didn’t seem like some monster. She couldn’t see him very well in the black gloom, but his hair was a tawny brown. She remembered it from when she was outside with him, while the Alpha lion terrorized Whitfield Dyson. Likewise, she could remember that his eyes were blue. Those sky blue eyes were as warm as a summer day. The lines of his face were appealing too with his well-defined cheek bones slicing down toward the chin, a hint of something exotic in his bloodlines. He was a large man, nearly a foot taller than she was, with shoulders she might think about running her hands over, if she wasn’t trapped in a rapidly diminishing hole.

  “Have you ever gone through this before?” she asked and instantly wished the words back.

  “Been trapped under the earth?” He chuckled, and the sound made a shiver run down her spine. She was hurting, dirty, desperate, and the sound of his laugh made her tremble like a little puppy. “Oh, on a weekly basis I go about saving beautiful young weres from exploding caverns and wicked humans who want to play God.”

  “I meant the other.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think it’s a once in a lifetime thing for our kind, love.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” she insisted.

  “It doesn’t,” he agreed, but he really wasn’t agreeing.

  “We don’t have to…”

  “We don’t.”

  Ula didn’t want to say anything else. There was something she needed to do. She would find Claire, whether her sister was dead or alive. She needed to know what had happened. She would go through the Council’s team if she had to do so. She would go through hell itself, if she had to.

  She turned her head and nuzzled against his arm. She heard his rapid gasp of surprise and resisted the smile that threatened to curl her lips. The scent of one’s mate was part of the attraction process in the mating dance.

  God in Heaven, he’s like catnip, and I’m the cat. Except I’m not.

  Above them was a distant noise. Both froze for a moment. The earth moved incrementally around them. Ula shut her eyes as a sudden rain of rocks dribbled past her shoulder.

  “They’re here,” the were above her said.

  Distantly, they heard, “Hey, Irishman! You down there?” The words were muffled, but there they were.

  “We’re here!” the were yelled.

  “Great. We’re digging! Let us know if it starts to collapse!”

  “They’re not very far away,” Ula said.

  “Only feet above us. We were very close to the exit,” he said and the gentle words were close to her ear. He leaned against her carefully. “Promise me something, love.”

  “Promise you?” Ula repeated. “I don’t even know you.”

  “That’ll change,” he said. “I’ll come to Canada and be the only cougar in the pack, if you’re of a mind to let me.”

  Ula sputtered with abrupt amusement. “My father hates cats.”

  “Wait until I make Stout braised beef for him,” he whispered near her head. She shuddered as his lips brushed across the arch of her ear. “It’s to die for. Does he like a good beer?”

  “And a good braised beef,” she couldn’t help adding. “What do you want me to promise?”

  “That you’ll see me again,” he murmured.

  The fingers of one hand brushed across his cheekbones. She enjoyed the sensation far more than she should have. “How can I not see you again?”

  “You seem the impulsive type, love,” he said quietly. “Rushing into a dangerous place because you know you alone can find some remnant that will lead to your sister.”

  Ula felt the flash drive in her hand. Did she want to share the fact with him? Just because she was tied to him didn’t mean she could trust him. There had been stories of mates who hated each other, who would have killed each other in spite of the mating instinct. She just didn’t know him well enough. “What do you think I will do?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “I’m guessing it’ll have something to do with the Council and Whitfield Dyson. The Council doesn’t care to be second-guessed.”

  The sound of digging above them came clearly as metal hit rocks. The were shifted his body above her to protect her face from falling debris. “Have a care!” he bellowed, and the digging stopped for a moment.

  “I’m not one to roll over and present my belly,” Ula said.

  “I don’t doubt that,” the were said with veiled impatience.

  More dirt spilled, and he blocked the worst from her face.

  “What will you do?” he asked curtly.

  “Hunt…them…down,” Ula said.

  “I was afraid of that,” he responded. His fingers stroked the flesh of her shoulder. His eyes glowed greenly in the gloom. “So soft. I had no idea.”

  “It was your idea for the other were to carry me out,” Ula said with unexpected understanding. “He took the knife I had. It was Emma’s knife. You might tell him that she’ll want it back.”

  “It was my idea,” he affirmed. “I was a busy lad and couldn’t do it myself. I had to back up my Alpha. Just as you would do for yours.”

  “I don’t see my Alpha here,” she said somewhat bitterly.

  “The call went out to all the clans. I called yours myself.”

  Ula chewed on her lower lip. The pack was isolated. They didn’t like humans in particular. They avoided the complicated politics of the Council. Her father would have wanted to come, but if the Alpha decided that the sisters were on their own, then they were on their own. It might be time to find a new place, she thought, but after. Only after.

  “Do you think I’m being polite now?” Ula asked.

  “Uh,” the were seemed confused. “I’m thinking the other boot is about to drop.”

  “I’m foul tempered and I don’t like secrets. I’ve been poked and prodded for the last god knows how long. They extracted eggs from m
y ovaries.” Her voice went tight. “They used silver and drugged us. I’m not sure what kind of were I’ll be if I don’t find my sister, if I can’t explain to my parents why I left her behind when I didn’t have to do so.”

  The were above her drew in a shocked breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t know what they did to you. I’m sorry I didn’t know two weeks ago.”

  “You couldn’t have known. In fact, it was a blessing that Martinez stole Emma away, or we would still be locked in silver-lined pens.” Ula glanced above him and saw rocks being pulled away.

  The were glanced up. “They’re here. We’ll get that rock off your leg and reset the bone.”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t have time for that.”

  More rocks were yanked away. The eager face of the same were who had first carried her out of the tunnels appeared…Micah. Her lip curled at the sight of his features, and he blinked once at her fierce expression.

  “God damn,” Micah said. “You’re in a right pickle. Have you out in a few minutes.”

  Hands continued to yank rocks and pull dirt away, creating a hole above them. There were some cave-ins, but the were continued to protect Ula’s body. When the hole was large enough, the weres discussed the best method of extracting her from the rubble.

  In the end, the were and Micah came down into the hole, and both pulled up the tremendous rock that pinned her leg while Ula scooted backward. Her toes caught, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming out. Then the remainder popped free.

  The were looked at her limb, horror in his expression, and muttered, “Gracious God, look at that ankle.”

  Ula looked and saw that it had been crushed. Crusted with blood and dirt, it almost didn’t resemble an ankle at all. Then it had rehealed over the broken bones. She was going to be limping for a long time. She ignored the pain and pulled herself out, moving away from the weres who waited there. She had to drag the leg behind her, but she did it all the same.

  Dimly, she recognized that the were and Micah had pulled themselves out after her. The were took a step toward her as she began to pull her scrubs off, leaving herself naked under starlight.

  The were took in another breath as he watched, and Ula began her change. She didn’t want to talk to him now. She didn’t want to be distracted by him. The explosions instigated by the Council’s team would attract humans, and she had a lot of ground to cover. There would be bodies buried in these woods, and she would find them all, if that was what it would take to find her sister.

  Besides which, the change could force the broken bones back into the correct alignment. It might not work altogether, but there was a better chance instead of waiting for a specialist to do a procedure.

  Skin and bones began to undulate. The change, which usually took less than a minute, seemed to last forever. The bones in her ankle screamed with pain as they moved and altered.

  The were stepped closer. “You didn’t make that promise,” he said with his Irish brogue more pronounced, “so I’ll make it to you instead. I swear we will see each other again. In better times, love.”

  Black and gray fur sprouted across her, and she cast him a distinctly canine glare. She paused to carefully nose something out of the pile of her clothing. She clutched it carefully in her mouth. Just as she trotted away, favoring the once-crushed ankle, she let out a muffled howl, and vanished into the blackness of the tree line.

  * * *

  Killian watched as Ula disappeared.

  Micah said, “She’s a tough—”

  “Don’t say anything else, boyo,” Killian said warningly. “I’m not in the mood for it, and I don’t have an ounce of tolerance left.” He brushed dirt off him and stared morosely into the woods.

  “Go ahead and pound me then,” Micah said anyway, “but go after her.”

  “She doesn’t want me to go after her,” Killian said slowly. “She needs some time. So do I.”

  Micah was silent for a moment. Then he said, “She took something with her.”

  “I saw that. Looked like a little flash drive. She was in that bastard human’s office. She has something the Council might be interested in.” Killian sighed deeply. “I hear vehicles coming. Fire trucks and heavy automobiles. Sounds like humans. Have you transportation?”

  “We’re hoofing it, lover boy,” Micah said, “eight miles to the south and then we’ve got a plane to catch. Unless you’re going another way?”

  Killian looked into the blackness again. “I’m not going another way.” His face fell into a grim line. “Damn it to fecking hell.”

  ~

  Now

  For a moment, Ula looked around. There were a hundred places for a small were to disappear to. Humans wouldn’t think about it twice. Well, most humans wouldn’t. But Ula was far from human. How had that bird were put it? “We’re more than human.”

  She would have changed into her wolf form because her senses were more powerful in her alternative shape, but there were too many people around, and there wasn’t anywhere to put her clothing, cane, and identification. Furthermore, she had the flash drive, too, and she didn’t dare lose that. Instead, Ula used her nose again.

  The little were girl wouldn’t tell Ula anything more than what she had been instructed to tell. But Pitch, he was afraid, and he would talk. He might tell her something very important. She cast around for his scent again.

  Walking a grid pattern around the entrance to the Paris metro, she deftly avoided the throng of people coming and going. People stopped to stare at her because she was so determined in her mission.

  So many smells. So much humanity. Ula’s lip twisted into a frown. One last pass in front of the metro’s entrance and she stopped. The wind carried something to her and her neck jerked to the side. It came from across the street. The old building with its three Romanesque arches stood there unassumingly.

  Just to one side of the building were a dark fence and another entrance. This was the real entrance to Les Catacombes de Paris. It was a tourist attraction. Once upon a time the cemeteries of Paris became overcrowded. Too many people wished to be laid to rest in the consecrated grounds near a church. The overabundance of corpses not buried in caskets led to unsanitary conditions. Late in the 18th century, Parisians came up with a unique solution. They had long-abandoned stone quarries and a need for a place to put the bones of the dead. Paris officials began the process of exhuming the dead and moving them into the quarries. But creativity could not be squashed, and the bones were arranged in elaborate decoration. Macabre sculptures using skeletons as a medium drew all kinds of sightseers to it.

  It hadn’t been on Ula’s list of things to do because she was otherwise occupied.

  A tidbit of information came to her. The tourists only saw a minute part of the catacombs. Allegedly there were hundreds of miles of tunnels under the streets of Paris. It was said that it was the primary reason that Paris doesn’t have many tall buildings. Foundations could not be built deeply because of the tunnels below them.

  What a cool place for weres to hang out in the middle of über crowded Europe! Why, if a tourist wanders off and gets lost, then what the heck, it is the catacombs. There’s a history of folks disappearing here. Ula recalled that one of the primary doorkeepers had been lost in the tunnels and ultimately found eleven years later. Poor bastard. The Council could keep anything and anyone they wanted down there with the proper security.

  Ula crossed the street and nearly caused a man in a Citroën to have a heart-attack because she stepped in front of his speeding vehicle. She wasn’t really paying attention to the heavy traffic. He rolled down his window to shriek at her in rapid-fire French. The screeching was accompanied by vigorous hand gestures with both limbs. Cars behind him slammed on their brakes, and the night filled with the immediate cacophony of blowing horns and outraged curses.

  She looked back over her shoulder at the man in the Citroën. Her eyes blazed a message, and he suddenly shut his mouth. He ground the gears in the older model car as he hurriedly tri
ed to drive away.

  Ula turned away and concentrated on Pitch’s scent. They’re watching me, to see what I do, to see what I have, to see what’s going to happen. If they were truly concerned they would have taken me out. They don’t suffer idiots. It would have been easier to simply talk to me. But then the Council was known for its arrogance. She reached the other side of the street without getting run over by irate French people and stood looking at the entrance to the catacombs.

  Searching her brains for information the phrase came to her. “Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort.” Her French did suck, but she didn’t need to be an expert to translate that one. Stop! Here is the empire of the dead.

  Ula leaned on the cane for a moment. All the walking and activity tended to make the broken bones rub against each other. And there weren’t enough painkillers in the world that would last past thirty minutes.

  Pitch hadn’t gone in the front door. He’d come out of the metro. He’d had to do something outside, like, for example, talk to some noisy little Council troll like the wererat, and then he’d gone back but not in the same direction. She followed the fence along the side and saw a large opening to the trains below. It was a great rectangle that was like a peephole to the transportation world below. It was also enclosed by greenish wrought iron fencing, which was fenced in by another fence, to keep the unwary out.

  The smell came from there. For some reason Pitch had come out of the metro, crossed Avenue du Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy, moved around the Place Denfert-Rochereau, and hopped down into the opening for the trains.