Hunter Moon (The Moon Series)

by Jeanette Battista

  Kess sized him up. He was odd, his wording a little stilted. She wondered if English was his first language, and where his accent was from. “I’m Kess. Again, I’m sorry I rammed into you.”

  He laughed. “It is not every day that I am nearly run over by a girl as lovely as you.” He lifted his chin in the direction of her now half-empty to go cup. “May I buy you a replacement?”

  “No thanks,” Kess said, pitching her cup in a nearby trashcan. “I think I’ve had quite enough.”

  He put his hand up to his chest, grabbing something beneath his shirt. She suspected it was some kind of pendant that he wore. She wondered if it had gotten twisted up when they collided. “Excuse me one moment,” he said, disappearing into the shop, only to return a few moments later with a handful of napkins. “It looks as though you could use these.” He handed her several napkins.

  Kess dried her hands, accepting another handful from him to dry her arm. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made such a mess…”

  He tutted her to silence. “There is nothing to worry about. You did not spill on me. See?” He turned a slow circle in front of her.

  Kess tracked him with her eyes, unable to look away. He was very good looking in a Scandinavian sort of way. There was something very compelling about him, perhaps the way he carried himself or the way he was put together—whatever it was, Kess found herself drawn to him. He was so different from Cormac, who was dark and relaxed and easygoing. At the thought of Cormac, she turned her gaze to the sidewalk. What was she thinking? She took the time to throw the used napkins away.

  She could tell he was watching her. There was a certain stillness in his watching that reminded her of her clan. Perhaps he was a were? Maybe that was where the attraction was coming from. She wished she had a better way of knowing who was what. “Where are you from?” she asked as she came back from the trash. “I can’t place your accent.”

  “Germany,” he answered, smiling brightly again. Those teeth were going to blind her in this sunlight. “But my parents and I moved around quite a bit.”

  “Is this your first time in Miami?” Kess knew she was being nosy, but if this Lukas was a were, she wanted to get as much information now as she could. If he never presented himself to the council and problems arose while he was here, she’d want a way to find him. Any information would help.

  He nodded. “Yes. I don’t think I was properly prepared for it.”

  “It can take some getting used to,” Kess acknowledged, pushing a stray hair back in place behind her ear. She took a tentative sniff, sharpening that sense as she did so. Lukas smelled of balsam, sulfur, and something else she couldn’t quite place, maybe copper? She shook her head.

  “I expect one eventually becomes accustomed to it.” He stared into her face. “Have you always lived here?”

  That was a loaded question. And one she didn’t want to think about too much with thoughts of Cormac already so close to the surface. “For the most part,” was all she said.

  “I know this might be forward of me,” Lukas began, then stopped. He seemed to think about what he was going to say for a moment before continuing. “But I am new to the area and do not know very much of the city. Perhaps you would help me get acclimated at a later date?”

  Kess thought his phrasing was odd, but if he wasn’t a native speaker that might explain his strange word choices. She was more concerned with whether or not he was a were and, if so, what business he had in Miami. If showing him around got her the answers she was looking for then she would risk it. “Sure.” She wrote down her cell number on a spare napkin and handed it to him. “Do you have a number?”

  He pulled out a stray receipt from his wallet and wrote his phone number on it. She put it in her pocket. “I will be in touch soon,” he said. “And I am very glad to have bumped into you.”

  “Likewise.” Kess watched as he smiled another of those blinding smiles, then turned and walked away.

  Something about this just felt off to her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew enough to trust her instincts. There was more to this Lukas than he appeared. And what that was, she was determined to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  Lukas walked out of Little Havana supremely satisfied. He’d only been out to get a feel for the city, to establish his own boundaries and begin to get familiar with his hunting ground. He’d had no idea he would run into possible prey. He touched his amulet through his shirt once more. It was quiet, but it had leapt to life when he’d run into Kess. She didn’t seem at all like the other werecreatures that he’d hunted, which made her all the more appealing to him.

  He felt a presence sidle up next to him, invading his personal space. Zamiel still wore the dark suit just as he’d had when they’d met; here in Miami he looked like an anorexic undertaker. Lukas ignored the demon and continued his stroll through the Cuban district.

  “You certainly play the wide-eyed innocent well,” Zamiel observed as he loped beside Lukas.

  Lukas continued to ignore him, aware that the demon would eventually tire of taunting him and get to the point of why he had appeared again. Zamiel looked around, a bored expression on his face as he watched the people. “So the new in town, out of his depth foreigner abroad is the way you’re going to go with this one?”

  Lukas shrugged. “It seemed to work at the time. I hadn’t expected to meet a potential so quickly. I had to improvise.” The faint accent he had had with Kess was completely absent now.

  Zamiel snorted, knowing what a lie that was. The demon highly doubted improvisation ever came into play.

  In fact, Lukas never improvised; he considered it a failure in his preparation if he was forced to make things up on the fly. He always planned out his moves carefully, always went into a hunt fully informed and aware of what the outcome would be. He had never lost his quarry before, and had no intention of doing so now. He always left the house with at least three possible backstories and personalities to use.

  “So when are you and your new preymate going to get together again?” Zamiel plucked an ice pop from an unsuspecting passerby’s hand. The woman seemed not to notice. He took a lick, then shuddered. “Guava.” He dropped the ice pop to the ground.

  “In a hurry to get rid of me?” Lukas put on a pair of sunglasses to shield his light eyes from the glare of the sun off of the storefront windows.

  “Your time is almost up.” The demon paused, thoughtful. “Your last hunt should be a good one.”

  “It will be.” Lukas’ thoughts turned to his trophy collection, still being shipped to Miami. He’d amassed an amazing assortment of animals, all the more amazing to him because they were all weres. He’d managed to combine the best of both worlds: hunting a human in animal form. He hoped his father would be impressed with his trophies just for the varied animals; if he knew they’d been human at one point, he’d probably be astounded.

  He was startled from his thoughts by Zamiel stepping in front of him, effectively stopping him mid-stride. “Just remember,” the demon whispered, his shark’s smile close to Lukas’ cheek. “The final bullet is mine.” With a shimmer like heat haze, he disappeared.

  Lukas looked around, only mildly concerned that someone would have noticed the odd departure of his walking companion, but no one did. He knew from all of the previous times that Zamiel had visited him in public that the demon only permitted others to see him if he wanted them to; otherwise it was as if he didn’t exist. His strange comings and goings bothered no one.

  He pulled the napkin with Kess’ number from his pocket. He suspected she would be an excellent final hunt—the one to end on. Her long legs, lean body, and exotic beauty thrilled him. He couldn’t wait to see the animal she turned into. He would need to watch her carefully. He wanted this hunt to be perfect.

  Chapter Ten

  Rafe felt weird about being back in his hometown. He hadn’t been back in months, not since the night of the werebattle that had killed his mother. This trip marked the second one in as
many weeks. He wasn’t sad about coming back, but he didn’t like the place. Here he’d been unloved, here he’d been abused, here he’d betrayed his mother and killed his sister, Teresa. It wasn’t something he was sorry for either, especially since it saved the life of Lenore, Cormac’s sister. She had been kidnapped by Teresa as a way to make Kess hand over her territory, and it had almost worked. Coming back home always reminded him of how he had narrowly escaped disaster—how they all had. Still, even with the necessity of his actions, they didn’t make him proud.

  Finn walked beside him, eyes scanning the surrounding streets. The werewolf was tense—Rafe could tell by the set of Finn's shoulders and the tension along his jaw. Rafe couldn't blame him; Finn wouldn't be able to see this place as anything other than enemy territory, even if they were safe here now.

  "So where are we meeting Shane?" Finn asked as they walked down a street that seemed to have nothing but boarded up shop fronts and the odd bar or pool hall already doing a brisk business at midday.

  "Here." Rafe lifted his chin to indicate one of the seedier bars on the strip. The windows at the front of the bar had been painted black so that no one passing by could see in. Finn eyeballed it, looking less than enthused about going in. The sign read ‘The Gin Mill’.

  "Nice," Finn muttered, then pushed open the door. "Remind me not to drink anything unless I really feel like getting Hep C." He paused. “Are these the only kind of bars this place has or just the only bars Shane goes to?”

  “Yes,” was Rafe’s answer.

  It was dim inside. Rafe knew they were backlit against the bright sun streaming in from outside; he also knew that the regulars wouldn't appreciate the light leaking in from behind them. He pushed Finn forward so the door closed behind them. The young werehyena already had his gaze trained to the darkest part of the room so that his eyes would adjust to the bar's darkness that much faster.

  A few of the patrons looked up, but most knew to mind their own business. Finn looked at Rafe, gesturing for him to lead the way. Rafe walked through the bar, heading to the back room that held the pool tables and dart boards. Finn followed.

  There were four men playing pool, two at each table. Rafe saw Shane, surprisingly happy to see the older werehyena who'd had the good sense to stay out of his mother's plans for taking over Miami. Shane was one of the few werehyenas who hadn't been duped by Samara and her beauty, and now he was kind of responsible for looking out for the few werehyenas from the pack that had survived. He was the one who had reported the latest disappearance, just as he had the last one.

  He was dressed in mechanic wear: jeans, white t-shirt, garage shirt over top. His dark hair was thickly threaded through with grey, but Shane was still just as blindingly good looking as any other hyena. He leaned over and sunk two striped balls. Rafe waited until he'd finished his turn before walking into his line of sight.

  Shane noticed him, but didn't come over right away. He finished his business with the man he was playing, put his cue back in the rack, and then walked over to where Finn and Rafe stood. He motioned for them to follow him and he led them back into the bar to a table in the corner, away from prying ears and eyes.

  "Rafe," Shane said as he settled into the booth. "Glad you could come back so soon."

  "Hey Shane," Rafe answered. "You said another one disappeared."

  "And this one came back too?" Shane gave Finn a grin.

  "Yep. Those boys from last time didn’t scare me away,” the werewolf answered.

  “Kess couldn’t come?” Shane didn’t seem offended, only curious.

  “She’s got some other council business to take care of, otherwise she’d be here. But she sent us,” Rafe explained. “We’re here to see what you found and if we can figure out what’s going on.”

  Finn spoke up. “We’re a little more than a junior detectives, if you get what I'm saying. We’re both on the council with Kess."

  Rafe knew that Finn could be a little overprotective of his friends. Most times he was glad of it, but Shane hadn’t meant anything by his question of Kess’ whereabouts. At least Rafe didn’t think he did. Still, the two weres had begun staring into each other's eyes, their hands braced on the table. Neither seemed willing to lower their gaze first.

  Rafe rolled his eyes. Great, just what they needed. A dominance display. They didn't have time for this kind of crap. "Hey you two, if you want to whip 'em out and measure them, go into the bathroom. Otherwise, if you're done pissing in your corners, let's get down to business."

  Shane grinned, followed by Finn. They broke away, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. "So what's going on, Shane?"

  "If you've got time, I'll take you out there." The hyena's voice was tight, tense. Rafe didn't like it; he felt his stomach tighten in apprehension. Something was seriously wrong to have Shane this keyed up.

  Rafe looked at Finn, who nodded. Finn said, "We’ve got the time."

  Shane got up, waved to the bartender, and led them to his dusty Ford pickup. They all piled inside with Rafe in the middle since he was the skinniest. Finn made a point at every opportunity to dig his elbow into Rafe's side. When he turned to say something to him, Finn just batted his eyes and gave him a devious grin.

  "So where are we going?" Rafe asked Shane, trying to ignore Finn.

  "Near the place where your momma fought Kess."

  "Didn't most of that get torched in the fire?" Finn asked, stopping his torment of Rafe for a moment.

  "Some, especially the marshes. But where we're going got through pretty much unscathed. Still pretty wild." Shane turned the truck on to an access road that led them deeper into the swampy marshland.

  They bounced along in silence for several miles, the shocks doing nothing as they hit rutted ground and potholes. Rafe braced his hands on the dash, trying not to fall out of the seat and into Finn or Shane. Finn had grabbed the handle above the door. Shane seemed not to notice, but at one point Rafe wondered if he wasn't deliberately hitting every bump and pothole as payback for Finn's dominance move back in the bar.

  "I think my kidneys have become lodged in my ear," Finn muttered to Rafe as Shane turned onto an even less traveled track that led them still deeper.

  "My spine has fused together," Rafe returned, grateful when Shane pulled to the side and cut the engine.

  "We walk from here." Shane pushed his door open.

  Finn hit the door handle and he and Rafe tumbled out with relief. Finn leaned back, his hands on his hips and cracked his vertebrae. "Thank God," the werewolf said.

  They followed Shane as the werehyena led them around a wooded area and started to circle the lake. "It's just up ahead that I found signs."

  "Signs of what?" Rafe asked, no longer sure of what they were supposed to be looking for.

  "You'll see."

  Finn sniffed the air, then bent lower to the ground. "Hyena."

  Shane turned to look at Finn, a grudging respect in his eyes. "Yep. You smell anything else?"

  "Not yet. Give me time though." The cocky Finn that Rafe was so used to seeing had been replaced by serious Finn. Rafe watched as the werewolf began a circuitous path around the area, checking the long grasses and the ground. When he was done, he indicated for them to keep going. "Lead on."

  Shane walked in front of them, being careful where he put his feet. Rafe tried to step where he did. "We're almost there now."

  The tall lake grasses opened up into a small clearing bordered by trees. Finn immediately took a step back, his nostrils flaring. Rafe took several more, putting his sleeve up to his nose to blot out the smell of decay. The buzzing of flies filled the air with a low drone.

  "Offal," Finn said, his eyes on a mound of something near the treeline.

  "What?" Rafe asked, his eyes watering at the smell.

  "When did you find it?" Finn turned to Shane who had begun to walk toward the trees.

  "Just yesterday morning."

  Rafe did the math. "So there have been two disappearances." He and Finn had been called
down last week because of one werehyena's disappearance. Now there was another.

  Finn walked slowly, eyes on the ground. He stopped suddenly and dropped to his knees to take a closer look at something that had caught his eye. Rafe leaned down next to him. He watched as Finn picked up a few stray stalks that had broken off and sniffed them, then put his index and middle finger into the dirt. He rubbed his fingers. Then he sidled over to the lake, eyes still on the ground. He walked the shoreline carefully.

  "Any alligators in here?" he asked Rafe.

  "Not usually," he answered. "What are you looking for?"

  "I'll know it when I see it."

  Rafe grimaced. That told him absolutely nothing.

  "Gotcha." Finn leaned forward, showing Rafe the shoreline. Rafe peered at the lakeshore, wondering what he was supposed to be seeing.

  Finally he looked at Finn's exuberant face. "It's a lake. I'm not getting why you're so jazzed."

  Finn cuffed lightly on the back of the head. "City boy," the werewolf said mockingly. He pointed at the soft sand on the shore. "See, right there? Those impressions are tracks. And they belong to a hyena, which I believe is not indigenous fauna to Florida. And here," he pointed to a small section of broken grass and sand, "is a partial boot print."

  "Hurray?" Rafe said, still not getting what had Finn so excited.

  Finn sighed. "And here," he said, lifting some shattered stalks that had a dull red stain to them, "is blood." Rafe blinked. Finn grabbed his arm and hauled him up, "Apparently the sun has baked your brains."

  Rafe let himself be pulled along until they met up with Shane at the tree line. "What did you find?"

  "First, tell us what you found." Finn voice was steady and serious.

  Shane began slowly. "I was out here for my morning run."

  "Human or hyena?" Finn asked.

  Shane gave him a look like he was an idiot. Rafe turned away so Finn wouldn't see his grin. "Hyena. Can I continue?"

  "Sure thing."

  "It was early—the sun wasn't even up yet. I was coming up to the edge of the lake from where we came in and I smelled it first. I knew it was one of us, and I knew it had to be hurt pretty bad with all of the blood I smelled." He paused, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. "I slowed pace a bit—I didn't know what I'd be walking into, and I came around the edge there." He pointed his finger to where he was talking about.