By the Red Moonlight

by Amanda Meuwissen

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  More from Amanda Meuwissen

  Readers love Amanda Meuwissen

  About the Author

  By Amanda Meuwissen

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  By the Red Moonlight

  By Amanda Meuwissen

  Alpha werewolf, crime boss, and secret Seer Bashir Bain is neck-deep in negotiating a marriage of convenience with a neighboring alpha when a tense situation goes from bad to worse. A job applicant at one of Bash’s businesses—a guy who was supposed to be a simple ex-cop, ex-con tattoo artist—suddenly turns up undead.

  A rogue newborn vampire would have been a big wrench in Bash’s plans even without his attraction to the man. After all, new vampires are under their sire’s control, and Ethan Lambert doesn’t even know who turned him. When Bash spares his life, he opens himself up for mutiny, a broken engagement, and an unexpected—and risky—relationship.

  Ethan just wants a fresh start after being released from prison. Before he can get it, he’ll need to turn private investigator to find out who sired him and what he wants. And he’d better do it quick, because the moon is full, and according to Bash’s prophecy, life and death hang in the balance.

  Chapter 1

  On All Hallow’s Eve when the sky glows bright

  Life and death in your hands by the red moonlight

  A decision made to affect all others

  The city’s doom or salvation shall be on your shoulders

  AND TO think, once upon a time, Bash loved Halloween.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Deanna asked, often trying to distract him when Halloween came around—get him drunk, get him into a bar fight, get him laid if she could. It never worked.

  Bashir “Bash” Bain was a Seer, but his prophecies were rarely as specific as he would have liked. He didn’t know on which Halloween he would have this supposed decision to make. Red moonlight might only be a metaphor, but while Bash was anxious every Halloween ever since he’d gone into a trance and spoken those words—words he alone had heard and that he remembered well, though he didn’t understand them—anytime the moon was red or even mildly orange on Halloween night, like tonight, he wondered if this would be the year.

  “Thanks anyway. I’d rather keep working.” Bash drummed his fingers along the edge of the car door, the passing lights highlighting his reflection in the window and the hues of his brown skin and wavy chestnut hair, as Deanna, his Second and surrogate sister, drove him through the city.

  A clever decoration or costume would catch his eye on occasion. Centrus City took Halloween seriously. Even City Hall got away with fake spiderwebs at its corners, though come morning that would likely be accompanied by toilet paper.

  “Let’s finish the pickup,” Bash said, “then join Siobhan on patrol. You know how the riffraff gets uppity on Halloween.”

  “Us shifters, you mean?” Deanna asked from beside him. “Or the humans in costume?”

  “Exactly.”

  She chuckled, shaking out her bobbed black hair.

  Shifters were a small subset of the population but powerful and influential in almost every major city. Most were run by wolves, like Bash, some by one of the many great cat packs, like Deanna’s black panther lineage from Asia, others by wererats or scaled shifters. Bash was Alpha of Centrus City, but his inner circle wasn’t made up of only one race. He welcomed everyone, wolves and cats and scales alike.

  Other packs in other cities didn’t appreciate how that scoffed at tradition, but Bash didn’t care. Mixed company was better and made his pack stronger. It also kept the infighting down, which made it easier to ensure the supernatural remained under the radar to the average human who had no idea what went bump in the night far more frequently than only on Halloween.

  Besides shifters, natural-born magic users, and intermittent encounters with vampires, there were a few other rare breeds that could crop up among the supernatural or humans alike. One of which was Seers, people with a gift for seeing into the future. Some saw visions, some spouted riddles, some both. A few were driven mad by their powers. Most had little control and didn’t even remember what they prophesized.

  That was Bash. He seldom remembered his prophecies, never saw anything clearly, and most of the riddles he spoke were lost if no one else was around to hear. The rarest of Seers had full control over their abilities and exploited them however they could, like Bash’s mother when she’d been alive, but she’d died before he turned ten.

  There were only two of Bash’s prophecies that he remembered plainly: the one about Halloween and his first, when he was thirteen with his father and twin brother, Bari, who hadn’t inherited the same abilities.

  Fury begets fury and blood runs thin

  The son to take over for more than only him

  Father overshadowed for the shadow he once cast

  Your kingdom will be greater when your reign is in the past.

  Everything about Baraka Bain’s attitude toward his children had changed after that. He was always a bastard, quick with his claws or a harsh word, even when their mother was alive, but his abuses grew unbearable. Baraka assumed Bari would be the one to kill him, since Bash always fell in line, while Bari was the outspoken one against their pack’s occasional criminal dealings.

  “Why does so much we do have to be illegal?” Bari would say. “Why do we have to hurt anyone? Living in the shadows doesn’t mean we have to be villains.”

  So Baraka sent Bari to live with a sister city’s pack.

  Too bad for him he’d guessed the wrong twin.

  Subservient as Bash had always been, he was eventually pushed too far without his brother around to share the load, and instead of avoiding the prophecy, Baraka had unknowingly caused it—even if it was a decade later.

  Bash had the Halloween prophecy while standing over his father’s dead body. Another decade later, he still wasn’t sure what it meant, but it had haunted him ever since.

  “I can see Siobhan waiting on us,” Deanna said as they pulled up to the Rogues Gallery tattoo parlor.

  It was one of their many fronts for money laundering and having ears on the ground, but Siobhan was a good artist. Deanna, too, when she wasn’t chauffeuring Bash around. The neighborhood wasn’t even the dicey kind but had a popular flower shop across the street and a bakery on the corner.

  Officially, Siobhan was Bash’s Warden, keeper of the peace between races, but everyone needed a cover job, and running the shop was hers. She had the week’s spoils waiting. Bash didn’t usually participate in pickups, but Halloween was a special night.

  Deanna insisted on staying at Bash’s side as his most trusted enforcer and Second of the pack—in place of Bari, since Bari didn’t live in Centrus. He’d stayed away even after their father died, preferring to not get involved in anything shady. Bash respected that and never pushed. He wasn’t like his father; his pack didn’t hurt people unless that person earned it, but like most packs in most cities, the criminal side of their business had been set up
long before Bash took over as Alpha, necessary in many cases to keep things running smoothly.

  And truth be told, Bash liked a little cloak-and-dagger.

  Sliding out of the car, Bash carried a natural grace that one might associate only with him being a wolf, but other shifters knew to be wary of that sort of calculated motion. He was a predator through and through, not one to be hunted, and he kept a keen eye on his surroundings with only a brief glance at the red-moon sky.

  Tonight was a blood moon, during the most important negotiations of Bash’s reign—working out a marriage arrangement with the Alpha of Brookdale, Jeffrey “Jay” Russell, to Bash himself, joining their packs together. It was the only option left that didn’t involve bloodshed, considering how at odds Bash’s father had been with the surrounding cities. Jay was the only Alpha willing to believe Bash could be different. Centrus and Brookdale combined would be too powerful for opportunistic takeovers.

  It was a good deal, even if it was one of the few times when Bash would bow to tradition. He only had tonight off from talks because he’d requested it. Jay was a good sort, a good Alpha from what Bash could tell, but nothing could change that Bash had no interest in marriage other than duty. At least after the wedding and consummation, they could run their cities separately, but Bash was having a hard time getting that point across—as well as an allowance for other men and women in his bed—because Jay kept trying to woo him.

  “Siobhan.” Bash nodded when he and Deanna entered the shop. “How’d that interview go tonight?”

  The shop was narrow but deep inside, with several stations for busy days and photos along the walls highlighting their artwork. They’d lost a couple artists recently and saw enough traffic that there was a Help Wanted sign in the window. They’d only take on another shifter, but Bash liked to see who else might frequent their door.

  “A shame, actually.” Siobhan hefted the bag of cash for Deanna to inspect.

  She was a lizard, trim and slight compared to Deanna’s taller, curvier build, with pixie-cut platinum hair and an impressive collection of tattoos, even up her neck to her jawline. Her honey-colored eyes were surreal enough that some might think she wore contacts, just like with Deanna’s tint of violet.

  “Best artist we’ve had come through,” Siobhan continued. “Cute too. Young. Redhead. Has a record even, just out of prison in Glenwood and looking for a fresh start. Right up our alley. If only he wasn’t human.”

  “Lambert, was it?” Bash asked.

  “That’s him.”

  “This his?” Bash noted the portfolio on the counter.

  “Yeah, he left a copy. I said I’d show the boss. Maybe we can find him something elsewhere. A good turn for an ex-con and all.”

  “How altruistic,” Bash said, but his smirk faded as he began to peruse the work. It wasn’t what he expected and seemed… familiar.

  “What can I say? He had an infectious personality,” Siobhan said. “I liked him.”

  There were few actual tattoos in the portfolio, meaning this was a newbie, an artist who’d only recently taken up the trade of skin as his canvas. But what he did have was breathtaking, some photo realistic, some fantastical, some more traditional tattoos. The sketches that caught Bash’s eye were intricate collages that would make impressive sleeves or full-body art, most rather grim too—death and macabre imagery of twisted bone and gore.

  There was one…. Bash would swear it was like the corded flesh of one of his own worst scars. Another reminded him of his father’s open rib cage after he’d killed him. But the last gave him the most pause—a beautiful woman with a third eye staring hauntingly back at him.

  “Nothing special about the guy other than his skills and sunny disposition,” Siobhan said. “Wouldn’t guess he’d be cheerful given the art, though, right? Must have kept his head down in the clink.”

  “He say what he was in for?” Deanna asked, leaning against the counter.

  “Falsifying evidence to get some scumbag put away for killing his son.”

  “His son?” Deanna questioned.

  “Nah, Scumbag’s son.”

  “Was Scumbag guilty?”

  “Lambert thought so. Wife and daughter of the bastard did too. They used to send Lambert care packages as a thanks for trying. So, like I said, pity he’s human. He might have magic in him, but it was hard to tell. Maybe Nell could look into it.”

  “Yes….” Bash closed the book. Involving a human in their work, unless they knew of their world and were touched by magic, would be too dangerous, but something nagged at him. He often felt this way on Halloween, but it was more than that. “Anything amiss tonight?”

  “Not a peep.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Want me to load up the cash?” Deanna asked, hoisting the bag over her shoulder. “Maybe finish the other stops early? Still time to get a drink, Boss. Or ten.”

  “Did you close up the back yet?” Bash ignored Deanna’s suggestion and moved around the counter.

  “Not yet,” Siobhan said slowly, catching onto his tone. “Why?”

  “Been through there recently?”

  “Something wrong?” Deanna pressed.

  “I don’t know. Just a feeling.” Bash moved at a slow pace, eyes on the door. “Deanna, load the car. Meet me in the alley. Siobhan, lock the door behind me, then the front, and go start your patrols.”

  “You sure?” The hesitation was clear in Siobhan’s voice.

  “You know I don’t like your ‘feelings,’” Deanna said with a hint of a rumble in her voice.

  “Just do it.”

  Continuing at a brisker pace until he reached the back of the shop, Bash stepped out into the alley with a soft click of the door behind him.

  Blood. Not visible, but he could smell it. A lot of it. Impossible to detect inside the parlor, because it always carried a faint scent of blood due to the needle work, but outside, Bash had no doubts. Those who knew about him being a Seer knew his hunches were never wrong.

  A man sprinted toward him and was stopped cold when Bash shot out an arm to catch him by the throat.

  No, not a man.

  A vampire.

  The hiss and growl and snap of fangs made it difficult to hold the creature at bay, especially since he was strong—incredibly strong. Bash could barely contain him, which should not have been a challenge as an Alpha against a newborn, but that’s what this vampire had to be, because Bash recognized him, and he hadn’t been a vampire a few hours ago. The sire had to be powerful to create a fledgling this strong on its first night turned.

  “A shame we couldn’t offer you that job, Mr. Lambert,” Bash said evenly. Poor man never even made it out of the neighborhood after his interview.

  Lambert—Ethan Lambert, Bash recalled—snapped again with a click of fangs. A shame indeed, but this had to be Ethan. Bash would have known anyone else lurking about these streets, shifter or human, and the young vampire had natural red hair and a handsome face beneath the raging hunger, just how Siobhan had described him.

  Shifter eyes glowed with power when they gave in to their true forms, but a vampire’s changed entirely. They shone yellow when fed, amber when hungry, and red when feral. Ethan’s eyes matched the moon above. What little control he might have had if he wasn’t a newborn was buried in the back of his mind by the overwhelming need to feed.

  “The hell?” Deanna bellowed from the mouth of the alley, throwing back her shoulders and letting her fangs and claws extend, her skin darkening to a deep indigo-black, fur sprouting rapidly across her skin. She was ready to tear the vampire to pieces as soon as Bash threw him her way, which was what Bash planned to do….

  When he caught the glow of the scarlet moon above Ethan’s head.

  Somewhere deep within the red of Ethan’s eyes was green. Bash couldn’t see it, but he knew, like a vision of the man Ethan had once been, beautiful and smiling and utterly enchanting.

  With a howl, Bash slammed Ethan’s head down into the pavement once, twice, three
times before he stilled.

  “What did you do that for?” Deanna growled. “Rip his damn head off!”

  “No,” Bash said, the claws of the hand that had seized Ethan the only part of him changed, and now that too shifted back. He bent beside Ethan, whose fangs were still visible with his lips parted, but his eyes were closed, chest still since he no longer needed to breathe. “We’re bringing him back to the den. I have questions.”

  “What?” Deanna balked, all towering force even as she shifted human, save the glow of her burning violet eyes. “That’s a vampire, Bash! A parasite!”

  “I’m aware, and we are taking him back with us. Now pick him up.”

  “Fat chance!”

  “Deanna, I am your—”

  “Fuck you, big shot Alpha! When you’re being an idiot, you’re just Bash, and you can’t go bringing some fanger home when negotiations with Russell are heating up. If you ever thought a Halloween was the night, this is the one. Kill the guy and be done with it.”

  That was the easy answer, but if it was easy, why bother with a prophecy? When had a vampire even entered Bash’s city? And what did it want? It couldn’t be a coincidence that Ethan had been turned and left on Bash’s doorstep.

  Vampires were vermin, an infestation to be rid of if even one was discovered in pack territory. As they aged, they became far stronger than shifters, which was why they had to be eradicated before they spread, or they might take over. They were messy and foolish and too easily made feral, just like their wild newborns. Better to kill them on sight, always. Bash couldn’t even remember the last time a vampire had been spotted in Centrus City.

  But if the prophecy meant for Bash to kill Ethan, why have his art so entrancing? Why have his eyes cut through Bash like bullets? Why have every part of Bash’s instincts screaming at him that killing was not the answer? There were too many connecting pieces for him to take the easy route like his father would have in his place.

  “Pick him up. If I’m right, my future betrothed never needs to know.”

  “Yeah,” Deanna scoffed despite bending to do as ordered, “and if you’re wrong, we’re all screwed.”