Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness)

by Natalie Herzer

The bartender brought us our drinks and I sweetened my coffee which gave me a little break and time to gather myself. Not wanting to raise suspicions by changing the subject too abruptly I tried to guide it into hopefully calmer waters. “What about life-long mating then? Just a fairy tale?”

  “No, it exists. The problem is you can’t know for sure until after having sex with the potential mate.”

  So much for a calmer topic. I arched an eyebrow at him.

  His lips curved. “Okay, there are signs even before that. But most of us prefer playing it safe.”

  “I bet you do.” Intrigued, I inquired, “How can you be sure, after the sex I mean? What happens?”

  “That I can’t tell you.”

  I leaned back. “Ah, here it comes, the famous shapeshifter secrecy. Why am I not surprised?” I shook my head and downed my Calvados, enjoying the sweet burn along my throat.

  Kylian tried to explain, “It’s to protect our women, our mates.”

  I looked at him, still not buying it. “What? Do you think I would run off and kill your potential mates?”

  He stayed earnest. “Some might. I’m not saying you would.”

  “Oh yes, you kinda are. Otherwise you’d just tell me.” He confused me, I needed another drink. “Did you like the beer? Want another one or something new?”

  Kylian watched me for a moment but then accepted the sudden change of subject. “I liked it, yes. But it can’t hurt to try another one.”

  I leaned forward and waved the bartender to us, “Two Biere du Demon, sil vous plait.”

  We sat their drinking some nice European beers, but after a while I remembered the reason for our visit. “So what about the scents? Did you catch anything?”

  He shrugged. “There are too many people, I can’t tell from here. We need to mingle.” He stood, his brown and blue eyes on me, and held out his hand. “Do you want to dance?”

  I shot a glance at the dance floor, pulsing with near naked, titillating bodies and then at Kylian. Hell no. “Why not?” Wait, that wasn’t what I wanted to say, was it?

  What the heck, even the Patroness was allowed to have fun every once in a while, right?

  I took his hand and there it was again. A spark. My skin tingled, where we touched. It was probably just the alcohol playing games with me. Although, come to think of it, this morning after our fight I’d had the same kind of reaction to him. Maybe my skin was just a little more sensitive than usual because of the healing wounds. Yes, that had to be it.

  I hopped off the barstool and followed Kylian to the dance floor. A song ended and a new began. Slow, beating rhythm. A song that whispered of love and moaned with desire. We moved to the music and only this moment existed. I let myself go. Kylian put his hands on my hips, pulling me to him, then he leaned down to inhale my scent. Automatically I tipped my head to the side to give him better access. His breath was warm on my skin, our hips swaying in an age-old rhythm. Butterflies were stirring in my stomach.

  “You murderous bitch! Who do you think you are?”

  Kylian tensed, I came awake out of this heat as if slapped with cold water, and we both looked about the room. The woman I’d seen being rather busy on the table earlier was mowing her way towards us, her furious yellow eyes locked on me.

  When the other shapeshifters stepped back to form a circle around us Kylian moved to stand in front of me. Protecting me.

  “No, let me handle this,” I whispered into his ear and surprisingly, without a word, he stepped aside. I concentrated on her, my right hand itching for my sword but I had to control myself.

  She snarled, “Isn’t it enough for you to kill us, now you have to fuck our men?” Oh boy, the jealous type.

  She stopped right in front of me, our toes nearly touching. Her lips curled back over her fangs and she looked as if she wanted to bite my nose off. I’d like to keep it, though, thank you very much. Breathing’s easier that way.

  “Hmmm, why are you in such a foul mood? I guess the three-way earlier wasn’t quite as satisfying as you made it out to be.”

  She attacked, rotating her claw-tipped arms like a windmill, trying to get a slice of me. Taking a few steps backwards I moved from side to side, ducking the lethal razors. Knowing there wasn’t much room to fight left with the excited crowd moving in on us at the same time, I pulled my Trident daggers, and heard someone shout. “Weapon!” I blocked her claws; they were long and pointy, so I pulled the concealed blades and clipped some of them.

  Everything was going fine until I was grabbed from behind and went airborne. The last thing I heard was a roar of fury. I flew a few seconds, out the door and landed on the sidewalk on my butt. Ouch. Vin, the bouncer was nowhere to be seen. So I guess, after they’d noticed I was armed, he’d probably come to solve the problem by throwing me out the club – literally. Nice.

  As I was scrambling to my feet and dusting of my jeans, Kylian came strolling out the door and trying very unsuccessfully to hide a grin.

  “You’re banned for life.”

  I looked at him incredulous. “Me, and what about you?”

  Now his lips curved into a really big grin. “I’m not.”

  “What? Why? You were the one who got me in there in the first place.”

  He just shrugged. I couldn’t believe it. Weird shapeshifter bunch.

  The visit to the shapeshifter hangout didn’t go as smoothly as planned and since the chances that they would let us in again were extremely low we had started to walk away, patrolling, and automatically we fell in an even step.

  Kylian looked at me from the side and I could see a flicker of blue in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” I lied. My hip hurt like hell after it had served as a buffer and my dignity showed some scratches.

  “You aren’t very popular here, huh?”

  “Well, Sherlock, my guess? They don’t like me killing their family. Though I’ve never killed a shapeshifter without a good, solid reason.”

  “I believe you. No reason to defend yourself,” he said softly.

  That that one sentence made me feel warm and relieved, scared me. I didn’t want to want his sympathy or understanding. “What about the sniff test?”

  “Negative. The rogue wasn’t in there the last couple of days.”

  What a shame. Would have been too easy and just too good to be true anyway.

  I looked up at the night sky and saw a few little stars winking back at me. “The moon is waxing. Just a few days left. Will you be forced to change?” Normally shapeshifters could change their forms at will and would only be forced to do it in the night of the full moon. Except the strong ones, who had learned to resist even the call during that mysterious night.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” It just escaped my lips. I had expected him to be one of the strong ones, giving the fact that he was the pack’s and Council’s assassin.

  He turned to me and we stopped. “Because it’s the Blue Moon. Some of us might withstand the first moon, but no one can resist the second one. Under the Blue Moon we’re all the same.”

  Of course. The second full moon in a month, known as the Blue Moon, had too strong a pull for even the toughest shapeshifters. Every one of them would have to run in the wild. Alone, or with a pack protecting them. It was called the Hunt since that’s what they mostly did that night.

  “Since we can’t trust the Parisian pack I won’t be able to join them in their Hunt. So I’ll have to find a place somewhere else to run a bit.”

  I nodded. “I know a place. Michel’s pack owns forest area a little out of town, they’ll probably go there. But there are also some small woods right on the eastern outskirts. That should do it. I think you’ll have some peace and quiet there if not necessarily a lot of space.”

  His face lay in shadows. “Will you show me, at the night of the Blue Moon?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  He lowered his head, inhaling my scent again. “You smell delicious, you know that?” I wasn’t even able to shake
my head, his deep voice was captivating. “Of flowers and herbs. But there’s also something fresh underneath, like a nearing snowstorm in a dark winter’s night.”

  “Had a poet for breakfast, huh?” I said, my voice not as calm as I wanted it to be and my heart drummed erratically in my chest. He must have heard it.

  Ignoring my comment Kylian angled his head and found my lips. His mouth was soft and warm on mine and I wanted more. Don’t lose it, don’t lose-

  I lost it and kissed him back, winding my arms around his neck. He moved and suddenly I found myself deliciously pressed against his strong chest, with a cold wall at my back. Lightning lit up the sky, and thunder rumbled above us. He tasted divine, of darkness, man and a little beer. Heat and desire were soon rising fast and the kiss gained an unexpected but welcome aggressiveness, as his eager tongue brushed mine again and again.

  Then he tensed, broke the kiss off and snarled.

  Surprised I looked up at him and muttered, “Am I kissing that bad?”

  His eyes were a clear blue, the animal surfacing.

  “Kylian?” I was starting to worry when he jerked again and roared in a ragged mix of fury and rage.

  “Run!” Then he fell onto his knees. But I had recognized the sounds. Bullets. In a heartbeat I had Cutter out and in my hand and looked around.

  “Move away from him!”

  I searched the area where the voice had come from. Kylian slumped down and I saw a red puddle of blood soaking the back of his shirt. Shit.

  Out of the shadows of the Montmartre cemetery came a tall man towards us, holding a loaded crossbow in his right hand. He looked like a fantasy. Dark hair curling nearly to his shoulders, strong jaw covered with stubble. He was clad in black; shirt and army pants, stuffed with guns and ammo. And a quiver was strapped over his back. This man was a fighter. Good or bad? Well, I would find out very soon.

  I stepped into his firing line so he couldn’t get another shot at Kylian who was still lying on the ground. What the hell did he do to him? How could he have knocked out Kylian with such few shots?

  I rotated my wrists, swinging Cutter invitingly around. Ready.

  Frowning, the guy stopped short in his tracks and looked at me as if I was mentally deranged. “What the hell are you doing? I don’t want to fight you. I thought you needed help.”

  Huh? Was he out of his mind or just blind as a mole? “Help?” I asked him.

  “Yeah. You know, giving assistance to someone, to aid.”

  “Against him?” I motioned towards Kylian.

  “Yes.”

  I had to rein myself in. “Just so we’re on the same page here, what are you talking about?”

  He continued speaking to me as if I were a child, slowly pointing his finger first to Kylian and then to me. “He’s a shapeshifter and would have hurt you.”

  I nodded, then looked at him, took a deep breath and exploded. “You dimwit! First of all, I know what he is, secondly I’m a witch and thirdly we were kissing each other. Not attacking.” The last bit I nearly screamed at him. Whoa there, settle down dear hormones. Frustration was a bad, bad thing.

  “Oh,” was everything he came up with.

  I needed to calm down and concentrate. “What did you use on him?”

  “Silver bullet,” he replied absentminded, still mulling over what I had told him.

  With a crossbow? Then I took a closer look and noticed it was a combination weapon, crossbow and gun in one. Nice.

  “How many?” And why hadn’t I heard anything? Maybe because you were too wrapped up in exploring his mouth with your tongue, Maiwenn. Grrr.

  “Three.”

  Shit, not many at all. I looked at Kylian then at the new guy, fearing the worst.

  “They are special, containing magically enhanced silver,” he announced, confirming my suspicion. “I made them myself,” he added and grinned happily while standing there as if expecting a round of applause.

  “You stupid, blind ass. For that you’ll help me carry him home.”

  He looked stunned. “Why would I do that?”

  I looked at him and whatever he saw made him change his mind. “Okay.”

  Half an hour later we had Kylian flat on his stomach on my couch. I went into the bathroom to get my magical emergency-kit and into the kitchen to fetch some freezer packs. Then I crouched down beside Kylian, cut his shirt with scissors to examine the wounds. “Help me, will you? Just turn him a little so I can have a look at his chest,” I asked the stranger.

  No exit wounds. Not good. The bullets were still in him.

  “The bullets won’t exit. They’re made to liquefy as soon as it’s inside the target,” the soon-to-be-dead guy finally disclosed. Great. “Usually one is enough though.” Fucking great.

  We removed the rest of Kylian’s shirt, stripping him to the waist. “What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Jean Chastel.”

  I looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  The skin on Kylian’s back around the three holes was reddish and swollen, and fine gray lines were quickly spreading out like a growing cob web. His veins, now filled with poisonous silver. I cleaned the wounds, applied an ointment with analgetic properties to smooth the way for wound healing and then covered his back with the freezer packs, holding them in place with medical tape. The cold would not only slow down the spreading of the silver but also help solidifying it. Then Kylian’s body would be able to shed it.

  I stood to pull off his boots and covered him with a light blanket. Rubbing my face with my hands trying to wipe away the layer of fatigue I turned to Jean. “Now to you. Let’s sit down.” I gestured for him to sit down on one of the high stools surrounding the kitchen counter before I settled on another, facing him.

  “Who and what are you?”

  Chapter 7

  “I’m Jean Chastel, nice to meet you. And you are?” he held out his hand.

  I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest, and raised an eyebrow. I didn’t believe a word he’d said.

  He sighed. “Believe me.” Then he took out his wallet and showed me his ID. “I’m Jean Chastel. Jean Chastel’s great-, great-, whatever, -son.”

  Wow, this evening was just getting weirder and weirder. Seemed my oh-so-lucky day turned into an oh-so-lucky night. I hated the higher powers.

  The old Jean Chastel had been a local farmer and inn-keeper in the south of France and had gotten very famous when he supposedly killed the legendary Bête du Gévaudan in 1767. That name had been given to a man-eating, wolf-like creature terrorizing the former province of Gévaudan for three years. In 1765, a year after the first official victim had been killed, King Louis XV finally took a personal interest in the attacks. He sent out professional wolf hunters to get a hold of the situation, promising a fine reward, of course.

  In September that same year a large gray wolf was killed by one of those hunters, who then returned home. Celebrated as a hero, he received a large sum of money and some titles, as promised. However, the killing did not end.

  More deaths were reported. In total there’d been over two hundred attacks and over a hundred deaths. On June 19th, 1767 another creature was killed, marking the end of the terror at long last – by Jean Chastel. He supposedly killed the beast with a silver bullet of his own manufacture.

  The Jean Chastel sitting in front of me had finally drawn my attention. “My name is Maiwenn Cadic, Patroness of Paris. Why did he use a silver bullet?”

  He knew I was talking about the old man and not him, and shrugged. “He was a werewolf hunter, and he knew only silver bullets would cause enough damage to kill the beast.”

  “A lot of witnesses said the way he behaved around the beast suggested that he knew it. That maybe it was one out of his son’s menagerie.”

  Jean threw his arms up. “Of course they did. They were suspicious of him because he knew so much about the beat’s behavior and weaknesses. Jean and his two sons had been hunting magical creatures f
or nearly all their lives. They’d been successful keeping it quiet, at least until La Bête du Gévaudan. First their knowledge was welcome,” he shook his head, “but after the deaths had finally stopped the people stopped fearing and hiding, since the evil was taken care of. They began to demand explanations, and so Jean and his sons became scapegoats.”

  “Was it a werewolf?”

  He shook his head, “A werehyena. After the first deaths Jean took it personally. The beast was terrorizing his home, the province where he grew up. He got obsessed with it but he never found out how it had gotten there.”

  I mulled it over in my head. It was weird but somehow logical. Welcome to my world. I believed him. There was just one thing left…

  “And why did you step into their shoes?”

  “It’s not just me. It’s been that way ever since. All the sons of my family were hunters. I’m a bounty hunter. Humans or magical, I don’t care, but my specialty are shapeshifters.”

  I leaned forward, pricking my ears. The memory of him shooting Kylian in the back was still fresh in my mind. “In general or just the rogues?”

  “All that attack humans.”

  “I see.” And I did, given his quick and false interpretation regarding the situation with Kylian tonight I was pretty sure he’d killed a couple of shapeshifters that hadn’t gone rogue at all. “Why did you come to Paris?”

  “Well, as a hunter you have to keep your eyes and ears open, and rumor has it there’s a tough rogue in town.”

  Believing his story was one thing, but trusting him was quite another.

  Kylian moaned then and I went over to him, grateful for a little time to think. I removed the freezer packs and saw thin pieces of silver already sticking out of his skin. Since the silver had hardened, his body would be able to shed them. I pulled my sleeping powder out of my pockets and blew it onto his face, chanting under my breath. It would put him in a healing sleep. That way he would sleep deeper and not awake from any pain. Kind of a sleeping pill and pain killer in one.

  “How did you make a bullet containing magically enhanced, liquid silver, by the way?” I looked up at Chastel.