SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES

by Jodi Vaughn

  “We’re not open yet.” She scowled.

  He inhaled her scent. Human. Her dark brown hair, which matched her dark eyes, was cut into a severe bob. Wearing a dark blue skirt and matching top, she looked more like a principal than someone peddling spells and magic and potions.

  “This is important,” he insisted.

  “It’s always important.” She snorted. “Let me guess, you need a love spell or something to heal a loved one?” She gave him a bored look.

  “Not exactly. If you could look at this list and tell me if you even have the ingredients, I would appreciate it.” He pulled out the list Ella had given him and shoved it through the crack in the door.

  The owner took the list while keeping her gaze trained on him. She unfolded the crinkled paper and glanced down. Her eyes tracked down the page. She swallowed and raised her widened gaze back to him.

  “Who gave you this list?” Her voice trembled, and she clutched the paper to her chest.

  “Someone trying to help me find someone.”

  “Only a true witch would know the ingredients to a spell as powerful as this.” She cut her gaze from side to side, looking over his shoulder before throwing opening the door and motioning him inside.

  “Hurry up.” She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him inside.

  “Thanks for letting…”

  “Shush. Keep your voice down and get away from the widow.” She locked the door and took another glance outside before turning to face him. “The last thing I need is for someone to see you in my shop.” She hurried toward the back of the shop.

  “Why?” He followed her, frowning as the array of scents saturated the air.

  She spun around on her heel. “Don’t think I’m stupid. These ingredients”— she waved his note in the air—“are for a specific spell.”

  She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward a small room near the back of the store. She motioned for him to step inside.

  He scowled and shook his head.

  “Look, you are going to get me into a whole lot of trouble if you don’t get your big ass inside that room.” She glanced back at the window.

  “Fine.” Grudgingly he stepped inside the room so no one passing by could see him.

  “Who do you work for?” She narrowed her eyes. “I can tell you’re not a witch. But you’re not exactly human either.”

  “How did…” He fisted his hands.

  “I can sense things.” She shook her head. “And this… this list has trouble written all over it. It reeks of death.”

  His skin crawled at her words. It was going to mean death if he didn’t get the ingredients.

  “But somehow I sense you’re not going to take no for an answer. Stay here and let me get all this together,” she groused.

  He stayed in the shadows of the small room and peered out, making sure she was doing what she promised.

  She moved from shelf to shelf, sticking items in a small brown bag. She stopped in front of the candles and bit her lip. Hesitantly she reached for three red candles and popped them in the bag.

  “Candles are not on the list.” He’d carefully gone back over the list to make sure he wouldn’t forget something.

  “They are just in case.”

  “In case what?” He frowned.

  “Look, wolf, accept help when its offered.”

  He bristled and growled. She knew what he was. Did he have a fucking sign on his forehead that said “werewolf”?

  “Easy.” She stepped inside the room with him and shoved the bag at his chest. “I’ve lived in New Orleans all my life. I’ve come to accept there is more supernatural shit that happens here than in any other place.” She hesitated. “Well, except for Charleston.”

  “South Carolina?” He arched a brow.

  She waved away his question and continued on. “I’m assuming the person you are delivering those ingredients to knows exactly how dangerous this spell is.”

  “Apparently.” The real question was, how dangerous was Ella?

  “Be careful with this spell. You probably should ask yourself whether this is really worth even attempting it.” She licked her lips nervously.

  “It is.” He had no choice. He had to find out who was behind the torture of the Guardians.

  She nodded once. The expression, one of knowing -something -bad -is- about -to -happen -and -wanting -nothing -to- do -with -it, spread across her face. “You need to go out the back way. I can’t have anyone seeing you leave my place.”

  “Thank you.” He followed her through another room to the exit, which led out into the alley.

  She opened the door and poked her head out, looking both ways. Stepping back, she nodded for him to take his leave.

  “Here, you didn’t take my money.” He shoved a wad of money at her.

  She waved it away. “No. I’m not accepting money.”

  “But I can’t…”

  “I don’t want anything traced back to me when you open that can of worms you are determined to open.” She shot him a glare. “Just so you know, the spell can’t be done tonight. It has to be done tomorrow.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because tomorrow is a full moon. You need the energy for the spell.” She slammed the door behind him. The click of the lock settled into place.

  He frowned and glanced down at the bag. Living in New Orleans, the shop owner probably knew a few witches and actual spells. But he hadn’t missed the fear etched into her expression as she’d hurried to retrieve all the items he needed.

  Whatever had her scared was bigger than he’d imagined. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same person responsible for the missing Guardians.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It’s like a sauna out here.” Catty stepped out of her apartment and into the steamy night. She sucked in a hot breath and hiked her bag higher on her shoulder as she made her way down the sidewalk. Darkness descended upon the city like a blanket, covering the sins and secrets of those it met in the shadows.

  She plucked her sweaty shirt away from her sweaty body. Even in the dark, the humidity was still wicked.

  After Big Mike’s visit, she made an effort to stay away from Lucien. He’d come by her place, and when he’d knocked, she’d hidden in the bathroom. She didn’t care what happened to her, but she wasn’t going to let Lucien get hurt because of her.

  She stayed in her apartment for the remainder of the day, not even going to visit Mrs. Willis.

  Her chest tightened. She knew Mrs. Willis would be wondering where she was.

  “Hey, sweetheart. What’s your hurry?” a couple of guys hanging out at the corner called out to her. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag and she hurried her pace. She’d been whistled at, yelled at, and even propositioned many times before. But tonight a sliver of fear skittered along her spine, like spider legs dancing on her back.

  Something was different. Something was off.

  She glanced around. There were plenty of people milling around the sidewalk, but they were all human. If she got into trouble she would need to shift to defend herself, but with the Pack Law, shifting in public was punishable by death.

  Sometimes she hated humans. Not because she thought she was better but because they were so fucking entitled. If they knew how many times their lives had been saved from a rogue werewolf by Guardians, they would be shocked.

  Not all humans were bad. Mrs. Willis was human and had a heart of gold.

  Now her granddaughter, Shelly, was a different story. She didn’t trust that chick as far as she could throw her skinny ass.

  “Baby. What’s your hurry?” The two men stepped up to flank her on both sides. One had a long untrimmed beard and dark eyes, while the other guy was clean shaven with snaggle-toothed smile.

  They both reeked of whiskey and cigarettes. She cringed at the stench but kept walking. If she ignored them, maybe they would leave her alone.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you. Do you think you’re too good to talk to us
?” The guy with the unkempt beard stepped closer. His arm brushed against her and she recoiled.

  “I have to get to work,” she murmured and kept her gaze straight ahead. Her heart clattered in her chest, and her lungs began to tighten and ache.

  She was only a block from the club. Once inside she’d be safe. Only a few more feet.

  “Yeah, we know where you work, angel.” The other male with the bad teeth ran his finger down her arm. “And we know what you look like under all those clothes.”

  Her stomach lurched. They knew she was a stripper.

  “Say, how much money for a blow job?” the other guy sneered.

  “I’m a dancer, not a hooker.” She kept her voice businesslike and her gaze straight ahead despite the fear stomping up her spine.

  “That’s not what I heard. Hell, half those girls at the Triple X put out for the right amount.” The dirty blond male leaned in close and sniffed.

  She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. A tiny spark of anger ignited deep within her chest.

  Panic that had crept up her spine was swiftly being drowned out by another emotion. Anger.

  She was really getting tired of this shit. She was nothing but a pair of tits and a nice ass. They thought they could say whatever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, and she would be grateful for each time they grabbed her ass or told her she was hot.

  She was done with this shit.

  Stopping in her tracks, she stuck her finger in the bearded guy’s chest. Her heart pounded as anger pulsed and surged through her body. “Let me tell you something. If you so much as try to touch me or put your hands on me again, I’m going to rip off your dick and stick it down your throat.” Her voice grew louder with each word forced out of her mouth.

  People stopped along the sidewalk to watch the interaction. The guy looked around and his face turned bright red. “Easy, girl.”

  “Stop touching me!” she screamed. The heat in her body raged as she fought back the impulse to shift and tear into these guys.

  “This chick is crazy. She must be on something.” The blond guy laughed and looked around at the crowd.

  “Did you touch her?” A ball-headed biker with a substantial beer gut stepped up to the guy. He took off his shades and tucked them into the pocket of his leather vest.

  “Look, we were having a little fun, ya know.” The guy held up his hands and tried to laugh it off.

  “Don’t sound like fun to me.” The biker whistled, and suddenly five other bikers stepped up behind him.

  “Is there a problem?” A tall lanky guy with the same leather cut looked from his biker friend over to Catty.

  “Yeah. These guys are harassing this young lady here.”

  She frowned. It had been a long time since anyone called her a young lady. Even longer since someone had stood up for her.

  “Is that right?” The tall guy stepped up to the two guys harassing her and glared.

  “Where do you need to go, ma’am?” The big biker asked.

  “The Triple X.” She dropped her shoulders a little. He’d probably leave after finding out what she did for a living.

  He nodded and motioned for one of his friends, who stepped up beside him. “We’ll walk you there.”

  She blinked, surprised by his offer. “Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”

  “No, ma’am. My mama taught me not to let a woman walk alone if she feels unsafe. And after this, I reckon you don’t feel safe right now. We’ll escort you.”

  “Thank you.” Her throat ached with emotion. While they looked like badass bikers, they certainly had their hearts in the right place.

  They walked in silence down the sidewalk.

  When they arrived at the front door of the Triple X, Catty turned and gave the burly man a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate what you did for me.”

  “Not a problem.” He shrugged.

  “There should be more gentlemen like you in this world. It would make for a better place.”

  The big guy ducked his head and his cheeks flamed red with embarrassment.

  He wasn’t used to getting a compliment, and she wasn’t used to handing them out. She gave him another smile before walking inside.

  She crinkled her nose at the smoke-filled room. Despite the depressing aura of the place, her heart felt a little lighter today at the kindness she’d been shown.

  She hadn’t expected respect from a total stranger when she needed it the most.

  “What’s gotten you smiling like a possum?” Celine groused, and she blew out a puff of smoke that enveloped Catty’s head.

  “Nothing.” She shrugged and continued on her way toward the dressing room.

  Celine walked beside her. “I guess you heard about Jill.”

  Catty stopped and turned. Unease settled in her gut. Surely she hadn’t come back to the club. She had a plan and dreams and determination. “What do are you talking about?”

  “They found her body near the shipyard.” Celine sniffed and stubbed out the butt of her cigarette into a nearby ashtray.

  Catty’s feet froze to the floor. She wrapped her trembling hands around her stomach in a futile attempt to stop the nausea snaking up her throat. “Oh my god. What happened to her? She was supposed to go back to school.” Fear trembled in her throat with each word she spat up.

  “It’s a damn shame. That girl brought in a lot of customers.” Celine looked point-blank at Catty. “If she’d stayed where she was supposed to, she’d probably still be alive.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Celine was a tough manager, but surely she didn’t agree with keeping someone from living their lives.

  “Her place was here, at the Triple X.” She waved her fresh cigarette in the air. “You girls know what you are getting into here. And it’s not like you aren’t being well compensated. Hell, we even have dental. Do you know how many companies don’t have dental?” Celine shook her head.

  Catty’s veins pumped cold blood through her body as she looked around the club. Suddenly the Triple X seemed to take on a whole new persona. A whole new bad vibe.

  “All the other girls know about Jill. Best they use this as a learning experience.”

  “And what’s the lesson in this?” Catty snapped.

  Celine narrowed her eyes and pressed her thin lips into an invisible line. “She should have known her place in this world. Should’ve been grateful for her job and kept her ass where she belonged.” She took a long drag and blew it out in Catty’s face.

  She cringed and held her breath. Anger bubbled in her veins and she wanted nothing more than to shift into wolf and escape this hell.

  Hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she headed for her seat at the makeup mirror.

  And according to Celine, exactly where she belonged.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lucien weaved in and out of the crowd like a ghost dressed in black. The humid air clung to him. With the weight of his leather jacket, he was going to be soaked in a matter of minutes.

  He rolled his shoulders and headed in the direction of the Bourbon Street. It was dark and hot, and he knew the city would only grow louder as the night drew on.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. He passed couples holding hands, families headed into restaurants to eat dinner, and single girls looking to celebrate and have a good time. People knew enough to keep their distance and step out of his way as he approached, but curious enough to stare.

  He passed a group of bikers leaned up against their parked motorcycles. A couple of men looked up and gave him a nod by way of greeting. He returned the hello.

  He had no destination in mind, but his feet did. When he ended up in front of the Triple X, he stopped.

  He inhaled deep.

  Catty was inside. He could smell her scent even though it was hours old.

  He curled his fingers into fists and warred with himself about entering. He didn’t like the idea of what she did. He understood why she did it, but it d
idn’t mean he had to like it. The thought of other men looking at her and trying to touch her was enough to make him shift into a wolf on the spot.

  None of it mattered. She wasn’t his. She didn’t belong to him. She never would.

  He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slow. He looked to the right at the bar next door. It would be better if he had a drink or two to take of the edge. Then he could think clearly. Then he could decide if he wanted to go inside or not.

  ***

  Catty sat down at her dressing table and grabbed her bottle of water. Sweat glistened on her upper lip, and her eye liner was smeared from the heat in the club. She glanced down at the black leather corset and black G-string in her hand. She tugged her thin robe tight around her body. It was still see through it, but at least it was a barrier to her skin.

  She snatched a tissue off the table and began the task of wiping her eyeliner off her sweaty skin.

  “I can’t believe that about Jill.”

  Her hand froze and she strained to listen to the other dancers mentioning Jill’s name.

  “I mean the way she died. It was so brutal,” Muffy stated.

  “No, it was personal,” Meadow whispered and looked around.

  “Meadow.” Catty grabbed the girl by her arm and stood up. Muffy shot her a glare before walking away.

  “What?” Meadow narrowed her eyes and snatched her arm out of Catty’s hold.

  “How did Jill die?”

  Meadow looked around and leaned toward her. “They found her with her throat cut.”

  Nausea swamped up in her throat, and she grabbed her chair to keep her upright. Her hand went to her throat and brushed against the silver necklace. The necklace Jill gave her.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Meadow arched her drawn-on eyebrow and gave her a curious look. “If you’re getting sick, you should probably leave. You don’t want the rest of us catching what you’ve got. Big Mike is low on dancers.”

  “Did they find out who did this?” Catty murmured. Her head swam with horrid images of Jill covered in blood as she lay gasping to breathe. As she’d drawn her last breath.