by E. S. Moore
Crickets chirruped, another owl hooted, but otherwise nothing seemed to move. There was a rattle above as the wind blew through a broken shutter hanging from a boarded-over window. Other than the usual sounds of the night, it was pretty quiet.
I walked slowly out of the alley, keeping my eyes peeled for a glimpse of my unseen watcher. I could still feel their eyes on me, but no matter which way I looked, I could see no hint that anyone was there. It was unsettling.
There wasn’t much else I could do now but go on. I would need to go deeper into the ruined portion of the campus to get to the Den. It wasn’t a thrilling prospect, but it could be far worse. If the streets had been crowded, it would have been far harder to spot a threat. Here, where no one else roamed the sidewalks, any movement at all could be deemed dangerous.
I strode down the cracked sidewalk, my footfalls echoing eerily off the empty-seeming buildings. I kept my head held high as if I had every right in being there. To show weakness was to invite attack. Any wolves that might be lurking in the dark would go for easy prey first. I could only hope they took my confident stride, the glimmer of my weapons against leather, as a sign of someone not to be fucked with.
Although there were numerous flickering shadows that all but screamed watchers, no one leaped out at me. I was actually pretty surprised. In a place like this, a lone woman would have been mauled to death before taking a handful of steps. Either I was extremely lucky or the Luna Cult had a tighter hold here than I would have thought possible. I doubted my swagger would really stop a band of wolves from trying to eat me.
The ruined buildings eventually gave way to an empty green. At the far end of the green stood what was supposedly the Luna Cult Den. The grounds were in just as bad shape as the rest of the campus. But without all the decrepit buildings shedding their stone all over the place, it didn’t look nearly as menacing. Through a copse of trees to my left I could see a small lake, its water shimmering in the moonlight. It must have been a beautiful place at one time.
I made my way down the empty expanse. I felt horribly exposed, but there was nothing I could do about it. The walkway branched off in a few places, but I kept to the path that led straight to the large building at the end.
If I knew my history right, the place had once been a library. It looked huge from the outside, a crumbling stone and brick monument of a time long passed. It might have been white once, but now it was more of a parchment yellow. Large windows dominated the front of the building, and the feeling of being watched increased a hundredfold.
My pace slowed as I neared. If this was indeed the Den, then I should have seen someone by now. A guard should have come out to stop me. They knew I would be coming at some point. Someone should have been there to lead the way.
Hell, I should have at least spotted a few signs that people had been here at all; but as far as I could tell, I was alone. There were no signs of life in any of the windows, no flutter of a ratty curtain, nothing. The building looked utterly abandoned.
Warily, I took the large marble stairs, my hands itching to draw my weapons. There was a feeling to the place that set the hairs on the back of my neck to prickling. And those damn eyes were still on me, watching.
I stopped at the double doors and considered what to do. I could simply knock on the smudged glass and wait, or I could just walk right in and see what happened. Neither scenario was very appealing. I was a sitting duck standing there, so I had to make up my mind fast.
I couldn’t see anything through the glass doors. It wasn’t that they were too dirty to see. It wasn’t even that it was too dark in the building. Somehow, a combination of both managed to conceal any hint of what lay inside.
I wiped away some of the dirt and tried to squint through the grime that remained. Still nothing. My night vision as a vampire was pretty damn good. The fact that I couldn’t see even the slightest outline of a chair or an old bookshelf through the glass bothered me more than the watchful eyes I felt on my back.
I didn’t like this at all. Someone should have met me by now. Or at least attacked me. If this was indeed the Den, I should never have been able to walk up to the front door unmolested.
And where were the lights? The Cult was made up of Purebloods. They couldn’t see in the dark. Unless they turned off all the lights for my benefit, I supposed. Something was definitely wrong here.
I reached out and pulled open the doors. What else was I going to do? I wasn’t about to turn around and head back home after coming all this way.
The doors swung open soundlessly. The darkness from the inside seemed to ooze out from the gaping opening. I hesitated. This was definitely not right, not right at all.
I took a deep breath and held it. I was here for a reason. I could do this.
Taking one last glance over my shoulder, I stepped into the darkness, knowing deep down that it was the wrong thing to do.
9
Sudden light blinded me.
My hands immediately went to my weapons and I drew my sword. I couldn’t see and that made me vulnerable.
I hated feeling vulnerable.
I blinked rapidly to clear my vision. The whole Den was aglow with the soft light from the overhead chandelier. Sconces lined the walls, and simulated flames lit up every shadow in the room. The floor beneath my feet was polished to the point it reflected every flicker of light.
And I wasn’t alone.
It took a moment for my eyes to fully adjust. When they did, my tension level rose through the roof.
Tattooed faces stared at me from all about the room. Cultists watched me from the floor, as well as the second floor balcony. Everyone was shaven bald, including the women. There had to be two to three dozen people there, all of them wearing light brown robes tied at the waist by a cord. It was like I had walked into a monastery full of monks rather than the Den full of werewolf worshippers.
The urge to draw my gun and start firing was almost overpowering. They might look clean and ordered, but I had seen the Cult at their worst. More than one victim had lain beaten in the streets from a Cultist attack. They may clean up nicely, but they were still just a bunch of thugs.
But I held back. They had asked me to come here. This could still be a trap, but somehow it didn’t feel like one. Not any longer. The Cultists could have jumped me the moment I was through the door. I had been blinded, stunned by the light. I had been vulnerable, and yet none of them took advantage of my moment of weakness.
I sheathed my sword and eased my hands away from my weapons, keeping my face serene. Many of the Cultists watched me with wary eyes, others with curiosity. But none of them made a move toward me. They just stood there, watching.
I glanced over my shoulder to the doors behind me. They had already swung shut. I hadn’t even heard them close. I could see outside just fine, even through the grime. The green looked just like it had while I was out there. Only the door and the inside of the Den seemed to have changed.
What the hell?
“Impressive.” I said, turning back to the Cultists. My voice seemed loud in the strangely quiet library. “You do know how to make a girl feel welcome, don’t you?”
Not a face twitched. No one approached to guide me to their leader. No one even offered to tell me why I had been asked to come. It was as if they were waiting for me to make the first move.
I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t been given a name. I didn’t even get the name of the Cultist who had delivered the message. The only thing I knew for sure was that the Denmaster had supposedly asked for me. That wasn’t a lot to go on.
“I received the message,” I said loudly, so that everyone could hear me. “I need to speak to the Denmaster, if anyone would be so kind as to show me the way.”
A Cultist came rushing down the stairs and headed right for me. I moved instinctively, drawing my sword and leveling it at him before he could draw within striking distance. He stopped, eyes wide, as the tip of my silver blade pressed into his throat.
The room
fell still, not that many people were moving around before. It was as if my sudden movements had frozen everyone to the spot. I wasn’t sure if anyone blinked.
I looked up and down at the Cultist who had charged me. He didn’t seem to have a weapon on him. His hands were empty, and he was wearing the same robe tied at the waste by a thick cord that everyone else was wearing. If he was hiding a knife on him somewhere, I couldn’t see it.
He swallowed and trembled where he stood, but he didn’t back away. His mouth worked silently as if he was too frightened to speak. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t know what to say either.
A large Mexican Cultist strode out from the crowd. His face was a mask of poorly concealed rage. I tensed, ready to draw my gun with my free hand if he made an aggressive move. I didn’t want to have to fight, despite having drawn my sword. They might be Cultists, people sworn to the wolf, but they were still Purebloods. I didn’t want their blood on my hands. At least not tonight.
“Stand down,” the Mexican said. He stopped about a foot from where I had his friend at sword point. He glowered down at me, using his size to try to intimidate me. On someone else, it might have worked. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you will not come in here armed.”
I stood my ground. This guy was just as big as a pro wrestler, but he was still a Pureblood. I had nothing to fear from him. He might be able to bench-press me twenty times over, but that would do him little good with my sword jammed down his throat.
“I was invited,” I said. “If you didn’t want me here, then someone shouldn’t have been sent to fetch me.”
“Where is Joshua?” the big man demanded. “He hasn’t returned.” His fists clenched at his side. “Did you kill him?” His eyes traveled to my weapons. “You are no better than the vampires.”
“Let her through,” someone called from the second floor. The voice was faint. The speaker sounded scared. I wasn’t sure if he was afraid of me or the big Cultist blocking my way.
The big Cultist tensed and glanced over his shoulder toward the source of the voice. He ground his teeth and then turned back to me. He thrust out a hand, palm open and upturned. “Weapons.”
“I don’t think so.” I still had the other Cultist at sword point, but my Mexican friend seemed to have forgotten him.
He sucked in an angry breath. “Give me your weapons.”
“Are you deaf?” I said, ignoring his outstretched hand. I had already had enough of this guy. “I said no.”
“You cannot come in here armed. Turn over your weapons or I will take them from you.”
I laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”
The Cultist bared his teeth at me. They were the normal, everyday teeth that any human would have. It was far from frightening.
“Pablo!” a voice rang out over the assemblage. “Let her in.”
Pablo stiffened but didn’t move. His eyes bore into me as if he thought he could force me to do what he wanted with his gaze alone. I could almost see the steam poring from his ears.
I had to admit, I was mildly impressed. The guy stood no chance against me, and yet he stood there defiant, as if he was the one who held the advantage. He might be big, but I was the one with the weapons.
“Pablo,” the speaker’s voice lowered to a near growl, “get out of her way.”
Pablo glared at me a moment longer before stepping aside. He took his eyes off me long enough to glance at the tall, cloaked figure coming down the stairs, before turning his hateful glare back to me.
I dropped my sword and the smaller Cultist scurried back among the crowd. He felt at his throat and looked relieved that I hadn’t drawn blood.
The other Cultists bowed their heads as the figure descended. I couldn’t see the man’s face. A hood concealed his features from me, but by the way everyone bowed to him, I guessed I was looking at the Denmaster.
“She has weapons,” Pablo said, though his voice had lost its edge. “She went for them the moment she stepped in here. She’s dangerous.”
The cloaked man stopped on the stairs and stared at the Mexican. The entire room was silent. I couldn’t even hear the other Cultists breathing.
Pablo gulped and bowed his head like everyone else. He seemed to diminish in size with every passing second.
“Welcome,” the cloaked man said once Pablo was sufficiently cowed. He continued down the stairs. “I was hoping to be here to greet you the moment you arrived, but something came up that required my immediate attention. I hope you will forgive us for our inhospitable welcome.”
“I’ll live,” I said. “What do you want?”
“Right to the point, I see,” he said. I detected a smile in his voice, though I couldn’t see it beneath the hood. “If you would follow me, I will take us to a more private part of the Den where we can talk without interruption.” He bowed his head to me before walking across the room.
I glanced around the room. Every eye in the place was now on me. Privacy would be good. I didn’t want there to be any accidents like with the last guy.
But did I really trust this guy? He may have gotten Pablo to stand down, but that didn’t mean he was my friend. As far as I knew, he was leading me into a room full of nasty surprises. Everyone seemed to be on the up-and-up, but it didn’t mean that was the case. This was the Luna Cult, after all.
I ground my teeth as my eyes passed over Pablo and over to the cloaked man. I really had no choice. I came here for a reason and I would see it through regardless of how I felt.
The man was waiting for me at the far end of the room. He held a door open and was standing to the side. “After you,” he said with a slight bow.
I started across the room, back stiff, hands ready. Pablo murmured something under his breath I was sure I wouldn’t have liked if I had heard it.
I kept walking. No matter how much I didn’t like him or like the situation I had put myself in, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away. If I didn’t find out what the Cult wanted, it would bother me until it drove me crazy.
I paused just outside the room. From the door, there was little to see in the room ahead. I glanced at my host and he gave me another faint nod.
Without another word, I stepped across the threshold.
10
I wasn’t sure what I expected when I entered the room. Some part of me thought the room would be in shambles, even after seeing how clean it had been in the front room. That was how I had always viewed the Luna Cult. They were a bunch of thugs running the streets who spent more time inflicting pain and terror than doing things like bathing or changing clothes.
But instead, I was met yet again with a rather pleasant room, furnished as if it were well used and well loved. This was definitely not how I pictured the Luna Cult Den.
Old plaques hung on the walls around the room. I wasn’t sure if the plaques were remnants from when the place was a library or if they were important to someone in the Cult. I didn’t get close enough to look.
A desk with a leather office chair behind it sat by a large window overlooking the green. The far end of the lake could just be seen over the trees. A couch sat along the wall to my right and two matching recliners to my left, all facing the desk. The place was tidy, clean, and had an air of practicality I wouldn’t have expected from the Luna Cult. It was stunning how different they were at home than when spotted in tattered clothes on the streets.
Two men rose from the couch as I entered. One was short and scruffy and welcomed me with a wide smile. He looked as though he hadn’t combed his hair in a good three months, if not longer. His cheeks were covered in a patchy sort of stubble that ran all the way up his cheekbones to just under his eyes. His eyebrows were bushy, hanging above his eyes like giant caterpillars. He folded his hands behind his back, ruffling his already wrinkled suit. He gave off an air of friendliness that was hard to ignore.
The other man wasn’t nearly as friendly looking. His hair was soft brown, mingled with flecks of gray. It was clipped short in a buzz cut that e
xposed a flaking scalp. His jaw was square, just like everything else about him. His shoulders fell perfectly in line with the floor, his posture perfectly straight. His shoes were polished, his coat buttoned at the navel, which just served to add to his rigid manner.
Neither man had a crescent moon tattoo.
Buzz Cut frowned at me as I walked in. His eyes flickered to my guide before settling on me. Disapproval was clear in his gaze, but he kept his mouth shut. That was a plus. It was clear he wanted to say something, and if he did, I might just have to punch him in the mouth. I knew whatever this man said wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Lady Death,” my shrouded guide said, closing the door. He moved to stand beside the desk, keeping his back to me. He gently tapped his fingers on the polished wood. “Also known as Kat Redding. Is it short for something?”
I wanted to keep my eye on Buzz Cut because, quite frankly, I didn’t trust him, but the mention of my given name startled me. Only Ethan knew my real name. Ethan and the dead.
The mysterious man shifted and I noticed for the first time how his hood seemed to slope funny to one side. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on, but the whole thing seemed off, as if my eyes just weren’t seeing him right.
“Don’t call me that,” I said.
“What? Lady Death? Mrs. Redding?”
“Either.”
“Then what should I call you?”
I brushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. The movement caused my coat to fall open just enough to expose the hilt of my sword. Buzz Cut’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a move toward me or say anything.
“Kat, if you like,” I said. I hated him knowing so much about me, but if he had to call me something, my first name would be less damning if others were to hear. “But I would prefer if you forget all those names. I don’t exactly like having who I am spread about. In fact, I would like to know how you know me, how you knew where to find me.”
