Indigo Moon

by Gill McKnight

  There was a warning in her voice. Ren caught her eye and realized the Garoul Alpha meant to have her answers. It was decision time. Her request for help would either be accepted or rejected this nightfall. Ren led her wards away, Joey loping at her side and Mouse still clinging to her waist. She could scarcely believe they were here but was thrilled to see them. She missed her pack and her home den, and wanted more than anything to hear Mouse and Joey’s story.

  *

  “And Hope wouldn’t let me bite him. She said Ren got to have first bite and I said that was okay but I got to bite him next.” Mouse stopped to draw breath and stuff more venison in her mouth.

  “And I carried Hope all the way here on my back and ran real fast,” Joey said.

  “But it was my idea, so we could go quicker because Hope is so slow because she has only one eye.” Mouse was not going to be outdone.

  “And she threw her eye at Patrick and he screamed and I hit him with a rock.”

  “I told them that already!” Mouse barked at him.

  “Okay, you two. Enough.” Marie laughed. They were sitting outdoors by a blazing fire pit. A huge table was laid out before them, covered from one end to the other with food. Any Garoul who was not on guard duty had come by to share in the meal. It seemed everyone was mesmerized by the young guests. Their adventures were truly amazing.

  “So this is your pack?” Marie turned to Ren, utterly charmed.

  “About fifty percent of it.” Ren looked across the table at Joey and Mouse, still barely believing they were safe and sound and sitting before her. A quick call to Jenna on Marie’s phone had assured her all was under control at the farm. Jenna was delighted to hear Mouse had been found. It had been a tense week. Ren hung up content all was well in Singing Valley; she knew she could depend on Noah and Jenna. They were a more than capable couple.

  “There are two more at the farm,” she said to Marie. “Luc brings these kids to me when they grow ill. She doesn’t know how to tend them through the werefever.”

  “But you did. You helped them survive,” Marie said.

  Ren nodded. “I have the almanac Grandma Sylvie gave my mother. I use the recipes in it, but it’s outdated.”

  “Is it some sort of experimentation?” Connie asked quietly, so that Mouse and Joey did not overhear. “Why does Luc do it? She must realize the survival rate is low, if nonexistent.”

  “At first I thought it was because she wanted a pack of her own. But after a while it reminded me of a cat bringing home half-dead prey. Luc was proud of her presents; it took her a while to understand something was wrong. Too many weren’t surviving.”

  “How many? Can you guess?” Marie asked.

  Ren felt sad at her answer. “No. Most died before they reached me. Luc lives near Lonesome Lake. She has no pack with her, as far as I know. She lives alone.”

  “Why is she after Isabelle?” Hope asked. “She tracked her all around Portland, trailed her to my house, and then chased her all the way out here.”

  “I think because she knew I…” Ren cleared her throat. After all Hope had been through, she deserved the truth. “Because Isabelle is very special to me. I wanted to get to know her more, but she had to go back to Portland after her vacation was over. We agreed to keep in touch, but Luc laughed at the idea. She said I should just take what I wanted. I disagreed.” She looked at Joey and Mouse eating their dinner and chatting happily with the younger Garouls. They were healthy and happy and proved that good things could come out of bad. “So she attacked Isabelle…for me. Because she knew I would never do it for myself. And she knew how much I loved her.”

  What else was there to say? The damage was done. Luc had taken the small pack hunting. Not an unusual thing to do. They had to learn. She had led them straight into the path of Isabelle’s car, and then, with Patrick’s help, it became another sort of hunt altogether. By the time Ren had arrived, Isabelle had been mauled and infection had set in. All she could do was help her fight the fever and hope that when Isabelle emerged as wolven she would accept Ren for a mate. It was a skewed and ill-conceived courtship, and Ren had moved too fast with her own needs. She had bitten Isabelle during their lovemaking to try to force their bond. She had been frightened Luc’s poisonous touch would skew Isabelle’s affections in some way. She had been insecure and greedy, and Isabelle had run from her. Now she had to find her before her wolfskin grew and she mutated. It would be a painful and terrifying ordeal for Isabelle to go through with help, never mind on her own.

  And she definitely had to find her before Luc did. If she could save Isabelle, maybe she would be forgiven. Maybe they could start again. It was all Ren had to hope for.

  “So Luc wants to find Isabelle and bring her back to you?” Hope asked.

  Ren shook her head. “Luc wants to kill her.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The meal was over and Ren had ordered her cubs to go and rest. This was the time for strategy, to ask outright for help, and she didn’t want the youngsters to overhear her plans. They moved to Marie’s cabin to talk over the situation.

  “Isabelle went after Hope, so there’s a good chance she’s still on Hope’s trail. Perhaps she’ll find her way to Little Dip, too?” Godfrey said.

  “If she’s following me then she’ll walk straight into Patrick and his gang. I’m not sure how many there are of them. We counted three at the Lucky Seven,” Hope said.

  “Four,” Godfrey corrected her. “Remember the big black one that ran across the road as we left the parking lot. It was humongous.”

  Ren stood. She was angry with herself on hearing this news. Why was she still here? Mouse and Joey were safe. She had a mission to find Isabelle, but the cubs’ arrival with Hope had distracted her. Isabelle could be walking into danger while she sat and talked.

  “Where is this shack?” she asked Hope. “It’s time I had a word with Patrick. He didn’t grab Mouse for a keepsake.” She needed to know what on earth Luc was thinking to order a stunt like that.

  “I’d like a word with him, too,” Hope said darkly. She cast a glance across to the fireplace to where Tadpole lay in his dresser drawer, deep in a drugged sleep. “The shack is outside of Lost Creek. About five miles to the west along an old track that takes you down to the Silverthread.” She stood, as if ready to go. “You’ll need help if Patrick’s buddies have arrived. You can’t go alone, Ren. It might be dangerous.”

  Marie put a hand on Hope’s shoulder and pressed her back down onto her seat.

  “Ren will not be alone. Her family will be with her. Claude, gather the hunt. We’ll head out together.”

  Ren shook her head. “I want do this alone now I know where to find her.”

  “You’ve no idea what your sister’s intentions are,” Marie pointed out. “She’s infiltrated your pack, kidnapped a cub, and wants to kill your mate. This is a challenge. Is that why you want to face her alone?” She stood face-to-face with Ren. “Because understand this, if you fight and Luc wins, she will have to be destroyed. She’s too volatile. I’ll never allow her to have a pack of her own here, or in Canada. I will kill her.” Her words were icy.

  “I think Luc wants to talk to you, Marie.” Godfrey cut through the silence. “I don’t know why she got Patrick to steal Mouse. But grabbing Hope was a definite demand for your attention. She can’t be far away.”

  “My number is in the phone book like everyone else’s.” Marie swung away and strode to the door, her pack hard on her heels. “She’s got more than my attention.”

  “Are you going to head out with the Garouls after your sister?” Godfrey asked Ren.

  Ren also headed for the door, the back door. “I need to find Isabelle first. Luc can wait.”

  “I knew you’d go off on your own.” His words drifted after her. “I knew she’d do that.” She heard him tell Hope. “She’s the broody, loner type.”

  “Good luck, Ren,” Hope called after her. “Bring Isabelle home safe.”

  *

  Nigh
t fell, the temperature fell, and her energy levels fell. Isabelle curled up, cupped in a massive tree root. She needed rest and food. She was ill for lack of it.

  If I lie down for just ten minutes, I’ll be refreshed enough to catch something to eat. What comes out at night that’s tasty? Owls? Bats? She closed her eyes, and within what seemed like mere minutes was shivering herself awake. She had no idea how much time had passed, but it was longer than the ten minutes she promised herself. A new dawn streaked the skyline. She was naked and human. It happens when I sleep. I change when I sleep. This had happened to her before; sleep and scents were her triggers, there was no doubting it now. She lay blinking up at overhead branches, and curled up tighter to keep what little warmth she could.

  A new awareness grabbed her. The carcasses of two freshly killed rabbits lay by her head. She sat up, startled, and looked at them in dismay.

  “Aw. And I skinned them for you and everything.” The voice came from her other side. She swung around to face a darker, leaner version of Ren. The face was angular, with a fox’s cunning. The eyes were black and curiously flat, as if all light was sucked in and held. And they were cold, as cold as the blood-red smile on the beautiful and eminently wicked face before her.

  “Luc,” Isabelle said, and drew her knees up to cover her nudity.

  “You remember me! How good is that.” A dark gaze roamed over her body. “It’s all flooding back. Werefever does that; it fucks up the head. Soon you’ll remember what a lovely vacation you had in Bella Coola. How you flirted with the handsome twins, and even had a dalliance with one.”

  Isabelle inched away, unsure how to respond.

  “It wasn’t me, by the way. You preferred the wonderful Ren. I was too raw and edgy for you.” Luc snapped her white teeth. “Too damn fine.”

  Again Isabelle could only gawk.

  “You look lovely naked. You should do it more often.” Luc raked her in idle curiosity, tinged with a little boredom. Isabelle knew this was not good. Boredom soon led to viciousness with people like Luc. “A tad too thin for my taste, but maybe Ren likes all those awkward angles.”

  “I knew you were here.” Isabelle struggled to sound strong. “You killed Patrick and that other boy.”

  Luc shrugged. “Everything they touched turned to shit.”

  “That’s all you can say? They suffered so much.”

  “Sums it up. They were dying anyway, if it makes you feel any better. All my changelings rot from the inside out. Talking of suffering, Patrick told me your old boyfriend ran straight into a tree. Now that was funny. I wished I’d seen that.” Luc visibly cheered now that she had a wound to pick.

  “Patrick killed Barry.” Isabelle’s chest tightened. Barry hadn’t deserved to die like that. She would always carry guilt that she had brought these killers to his door.

  “Patrick was stupid.” Luc’s tone hardened with dissatisfaction. “I already had your scent. I’d found all your favorite city haunts. It was fun following you around. By killing that man, Patrick made you run. Not good.” She shook her head. “He spoiled the hunt. He had to go.”

  “So why are you chasing the others? Mouse and Joey and the human woman?” Isabelle fished for information. She kept Hope’s name out of it. The Garoul connection was a card she was uncertain how to play. She needed to find out as much as she could. “You’re out here hunting them, not me.”

  “You have a wonderful nose. I love your nose. I may keep it after I pull the rest of your face off.” Luc gave the tip of Isabelle’s nose a playful tap with her forefinger. Isabelle twisted her head away.

  “I don’t understand any of your actions,” she said.

  “That’s because you’re not wolfie enough.”

  “I’m wolfie enough to know you turned those kids Ren’s trying to look after. Is that why they’re becoming sick? Is it something you do when you attack them?”

  “She’s a saint, isn’t she? And I don’t deliberately infect them. It’s a side effect of the werefever. Some pull through, some don’t. Some relapse.” Luc shrugged. Her skin had an oily, waxen sheen under her tan, and Isabelle wondered about Luc’s health.

  “Is that why you came out here after Mouse and Joey? Because they’re ill, too? Were you going to kill them as well?”

  Luc tensed. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re not ill. They’re the healthiest of the lot.” There was almost pride in her voice. Her face flexed into a deeper, more menacing scowl as if daring Isabelle to dispute her.

  “I know you’re jealous of Ren and me.” She changed tack. Luc would not reveal any more about infections, not if her own health was implicated. Isabelle was satisfied there was an illness running through Ren’s pack and Luc was the root of it. “You’ve never liked me.”

  Luc barked out a laugh. “You wouldn’t be my first choice for my sister’s mate.” Again, her eyes scoured Isabelle’s face and body and found her wanting. “You were leaving and she was sad. I can’t have my sister moping around the place.” She placed her hand on her heart. “It’s a twin thing.”

  “I know something else.”

  “You’re so fucking erudite.”

  “I know why Patrick grabbed Mouse. I know why you’re chasing those kids.” A faint flaring of Luc’s nostrils was the only clue Isabelle had hit her target. “Mouse is your daughter. Isn’t she?”

  “You fight sneaky. I say you’re not good enough for my sister; and you come back at me and pull out my biggest secret. You’re a nasty little thing, aren’t you? I think I’ll revise my opinion of you.”

  “It’s hardly a deep, dark secret. Anyone can see she’s yours.”

  “She could be Ren’s.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “She has an…edge. That’s all you.” This brought a flicker of a smile, and Isabelle drove home her point. “So why are you kidnapping your own daughter? You know Ren looks after her well.”

  “Because she’s older now and needs to know things not even Ren can teach her. Because all my other little darlings are dropping down dead, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let Mouse grow up in a diseased swamp hole. Ren needs to accept what’s happening on that farm. Her pack is falling sick. They’ll all die.”

  “You were bringing Mouse to Little Dip?” Isabelle was incredulous. “You hoped she’d find a home there. Were you going to be part of it, too?”

  “Cleverness always goes with a great nose. It’s the wolven way. The sniffers always were the thinkers.” Luc avoided her last question. Her face held a curious, distant calm, as she was slowly detaching herself from all emotion. Isabelle knew time was running out.

  “Why do you want to kill me?” she asked bluntly. She might as well get to the core of it.

  “It’s not all about you, you know.” Luc looked grumpy at this direct approach. “It’s about getting Mouse to Little Dip. You happened to be an interesting sideline. A mate is for life. You ran away. If you’re not her mate then you’re dead, simple as that. How else will Ren be free of you?”

  “Isn’t that for Ren and me to discuss? Why are you sticking your nose in the midd—Oh, I see.” Isabelle’s voice hardened. “You attacked me, didn’t you? You’re the one who started all this. Like you start everything, and then it turns to shit, right?”

  “Ouch. You can nip when you want to. But yes, it was me who infected you. I feel so ashamed.” Luc leaned into her, her eyes gleamed wickedly. “Was it the wrong thing to do? After all, you two did hit it off. Patrick told me you were getting along famously. Ren even adorned Big Tree for you.” Luc had a roguish smile she used with great effect. “It’s a metaphor,” she whispered. “A sort of initiation thing.” Her smile didn’t work on Isabelle.

  “If I was a Were I’d bite you right back,” Isabelle said.

  “You are delightful. I should have kept you for myself.” Luc stood and kicked off her boots. “Bring it on. You’ve got thirty seconds by the time I strip and change.” She pulled her shirt over her head. Before it was free of her body Isabelle had fled.

  �
��I won’t kill you, by the way. I think I like you better now that we’ve chatted,” Luc called after her. “But I’ll put another mark on that pretty face so you never forget me again.”

  Isabelle raced through the underbrush. It tore at her skin and hair. Branches whipped at her face, and stones and shale cut the soles of her bare feet. She had to get away, she had to put enough space between herself and Luc so that she could hunker down and change into a Were. But how? It had always just occurred before; she had never initiated the process as far as she knew. Sleep and scent were all she knew as triggers. Could she do it to order?

  Luc was behind her in an instant. A sharp shove between her shoulder blades sent her reeling onto her knees. It had taken Luc less than thirty seconds to find her. The wind was knocked out of Isabelle. She’d never had a chance anyway. She lay sprawled naked on a bed of twigs and dirt, frightened and defeated. Where was her wolfskin now? Not that she could tackle an enormous beast like Luc, even as a Were, but it would have been less humiliating than scrabbling in the dirt like an earthworm. A huge part of her wanted to stand and fight, to swing her claws and roar out her anger. The fingers of her right hand twitched and her nails hardened and lengthened. Wide-eyed, she focused on her hand, willing it to make a claw, to begin her transition. Please, please, let it happen.

  Behind her she could hear Luc pant as she decided on her next strike. Isabelle focused on her shaking hand. She trembled with effort, willing her wolfskin in to life—A massive clawed foot stepped into view, an inch from her face. A deep, menacing growl accompanied it. A second beast now loomed over her.

  Isabelle peeped up at the enormous werewolf standing over her, facing off against Luc. It shimmered with a vibrant energy. Dew spangled its black fur like a thousand little diamonds. This Were had been roaming the forest all night. It was well settled in its wolfskin and filled with muted rage.