High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “I should go with you and Oliver. I—”

  “You can barely stand right now. You’re a liability. You’ll just slow us down.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t trust you, okay?” Chandler snaps. “We’re here to clean up your clusterfuck. We were working on a plan before you went rogue. I should arrest your ass. And I still may. So you’re going to wait in the goddamn car and if we need you, we’ll radio.” He grabs the crate before rushing back toward the other SUV with Jason in toe.

  I turn my gaze to Oliver as he fastens a knife to his belt. “Don’t let him bench me,” I beg. “I should be out there with you. I need to be out there with you.”

  “Why? It is as if you do not trust me with Will’s life,” he says with a hard edge before following Chandler as well.

  Those words sting like acid. I even flinch. But the truth is…no. I don’t trust a single one of them, not with this. Not even him. Not really. Maybe I shouldn’t have called them. Decisions made in fear rarely prove to be the correct one. Crap. Too late now.

  I join the others as they affix their earpieces and walkies. Chandler hands a walkie to Jason as well. “Everyone, channel seven.” They quickly check their walkies and guns with Nancy sliding in the last tranq dart. “We’ll take the left, Team B the right. Zigzag though the woods down along the road until you reach the cabin. We’ll rendezvous there. And first group to arrive, secure the son. Again,” he says glaring my way. “We’ve done this a dozen times before people, tonight is no excep—” He stops himself. “Just remember your training. Watch each other’s backs, and be careful out there. I don’t want to lose anyone.”

  “Nor do we,” Oliver says.

  Chandler nods at the vampire. “Then let’s get these bastards. Good hunting, everyone.”

  “Good hunting,” we all say in unison.

  Everyone secures their night vision goggles and moves toward the forest, guns already pointed that way. I take a step too, but Oliver blocks me before turning to Jason. “Watch her. Keep her close. Please.”

  Those ice blue orbs narrow at my friend, though for once more intrigued than hostile. He nods at Oliver before the vampire hustles back to the group. I take a few steps until a hand clamps around my arm. “Get in the car,” Jason orders. My gaze whips back his way, greeted by another scowl. “Don’t make me force you.”

  Not now, Bea. Not yet…

  I snatch my arm away but walk on my own to the first SUV, climbing in the passenger seat. As Tim’s blood still trickles down the windshield, I watch my friends dash into the wilderness to hunt the man I love and his lover. Swallowed by the darkness. Chandler is right, we have done this before. In Colorado, in New Jersey, all over. Zombies, vampires, even a giant snake, all hunted and found. All dead. Not a one could be taken alive. Their choice, not ours. Will has to remember that somewhere in his lizard brain. He has to.

  After moving the second SUV off the road, Jason climbs into the driver’s seat. “Surprised you didn’t make a run for it,” he says putting our car into gear.

  “Not without your shotgun.”

  “So you don’t have a death wish.” To my surprise he hands me the shotgun. “Good to know.” Jason maneuvers the car down the gravel road at a crawl. “Keep your eyes open. Hopefully they’ll catch the scent of blood and come right to us. If I smelled my pack member’s blood, I would.”

  “We’re supposed to wait at the end of the road.”

  “I don’t take orders.” He scans the forest for a moment in silence. “Are you sleeping with the vampire?”

  “Excuse me?” I snap.

  “I’ve known that vampire since I was a child. He hasn’t given one goddamn for anyone but himself in all that time. Will Price is my friend. If you are—”

  “I’m not. I never have. He’s just a friend.”

  “And he’s okay with that? Because right now the vampire who helped slaughter an entire family of witches to help get his lover back is out there with a shotgun hunting my friend.”

  “He won’t kill him. Not unless there’s no other option.” I pause. “He won’t because he knows I’d never forgive him.”

  “You bet Will’s life on that? Because I sure as hell don’t.” He passes me the walkie and earpiece. “Put it on. Be ready. And there’s a flashlight under the seat. Get it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I should be out there. It’s my duty to be out there. To kill those fuckers for their crimes. To protect my friend who helped me, helped my wife, many years ago. But I can’t. You can. And you will. Besides, I know you’re already planning to anyway. I’ll save myself the head wound this way. So the moment they come, you be ready.” He nods at the shotgun. “Will you be able to use that thing?”

  I take the gun in my hand. I may pop some stitches, but, “Yes.”

  “Good. You’ll need it.”

  “I pray you’re wrong, Alpha Dahl.”

  But when has one of my prayers ever been answered?

  After I retrieve the flashlight, we drive in silence save, for the chatter over my earpiece, Carl telling Nancy to stay closer, Chandler checking in with the other team. No sightings yet. Perhaps the pack just ran away. They’re halfway to Crawford already. They’ll change back, rest and regroup somewhere far from here. It may take a month, a year, but he will be alive and I will find him. I will. He—

  The car jerks to a sudden stop. I don’t see anything on either side of the road. I have better than average night vision, but I’m not a werewolf. “Where?” I ask.

  “Ten o’clock. I saw movement.”

  “Should I—”

  “Wait. It could be nothing.”

  I don’t see a damn thing but branches swaying in the wind. We watch and wait, the air growing thicker with tension each passing millisecond, until I almost can’t breathe. Dahl isn’t as far as I can tell. His eyes narrow to pinpoints. “It’s her.”

  “I don’t—”

  The eyes. She must move her head because suddenly two green glowing orbs appear in the darkness. It’s her. When she steps closer into the glow of the headlights, I see this wolf is smaller than Will. My hand instinctively squeezes the shotgun. I have a promise to keep.

  “She’s not coming any closer,” Dahl says. “You shou—”

  I’ve already opened the car door before he grants me permission. Flashlight in one hand, shotgun in the other, pure vengeance and rage racing though my veins, yeah that psycho bitch doesn’t stand a chance. She must agree because the moment I set foot off the gravel, she takes off back the way she came. I run as fast as I can after her into the forest. Here I come, you bitch. Game on.

  About a hundred feet in, I lose sight of her in the darkness and stop running to scan the horizon with my flashlight. Nothing but dense bare tree trunks inches apart from the others, and branches swaying in the breeze. Crap. Crackling branches behind me, in front of me, I can’t tell. Double crap. “In pursuit of Winsted, approximately a hundred feet north of the driveway, in Alpha search quadrant,” I pant into the earpiece microphone.

  “Trixie?” Oliver asks on the other end. “How did—”

  “I have lost Winsted,” I cut in, “and—”

  Spoke too soon. A howl echoes nearby, perhaps thirty feet away, before the crackling begins anew. I take off after her again, dodging and weaving through the tall trees. “Re-established contact. Heading north-east. Nancy—”

  “I need more than that,” Nancy says. “Like fire in the air or—”

  “Contact left!” Carl cuts in.

  “What?” Rushmore asks over the comms. “I don’t see…there!”

  “He’s running!”

  “Is it Will?” I ask through my pants.

  “I missed him!” Nancy says.

  “Don’t lose him!” Carl shouts.

  They’re not listening to me. I can’t listen to them either. There’s too much shouting. I have to yank the wig from my ear when a shotgun blast rings out over
it. Crap. Nothing I can do right now. And I’m tired of running. I cock the shotgun, not easy while running, and push myself harder to bridge the gap between us. I fire. The force and noise cause me more harm than her. As my ears ring and shoulder aches, the wolf continues running, vanishing once more into the black void before I can pick her up with my power. Damn it! After cocking the gun, I give myself seconds to catch my breath and force away the new pain in my arm before following her again. Even with the ringing, I can still hear distant shotgun blasts from Team B. Four, Five. Oh God, please don’t let them be after Will. Let him be far, far away from this warzone. Just keep running, Bea. Don’t lose her. Don’t—

  Aagh!

  As if I were stabbed by an ice pick the pain in my side from my mending ribs all but brings me to my knees. My lungs beg for me to take deep breaths, but the pain only allows a teaspoon in at a time. My head, front and back from my two concussions, throbs and aches almost as badly as my side in time to my racing heart. The splotches and dizziness don’t help either. Too much. I have to stop and the moment I do, my stomach expels its almost non-existent contents out of my mouth onto the dead leaves. Damn it. Goddamn it, I’ve lost her. There’s nothing but silence and my breaths. No footsteps, no crackling, just me. Oww. Damn it, I—

  The snapping of a large branch behind me, stops that breath dead. I sense another’s presence, and the pain momentarily vanishes as I straighten and twirl around, shotgun and flashlight first, toward the intruder. But it’s a damn good thing I’m not trigger happy. I manage to stop my finger from squeezing the moment I realize who I’ve drawn on. Oliver stands only five feet away, his own shotgun lowered and his mouth open in silent, surprised protest. My jaw drops in time to my gun. “You scared the crap out of me,” I pant.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, stepping toward me. “I smell your blood.”

  “I-I think I popped a stitch in my arm.” Just as I say it, sure enough all the pain returns to my side, my arm, even my head. “I-I’m fine.” About to vomit again but fine. “She—”

  I take a step, just one step, and darkness washes over all my senses for a second. One moment I’m upright, and the next I’m leaning against Oliver’s chest with his arms holding me, and the vampire himself staring down at me, terrified. My own eyes double in size when a howl echoes through the woods not too far away. I’d recognize that bellow anywhere. I spent the night listening to its mournful, deep bawl less than a week ago. “Will,” I whisper. “It’s Will!” I push myself away from Oliver, but the moment I’m upright, the world tilts again.

  I manage a step, but this time it’s not my broken body that stops me. Oliver grabs my wrist, turns me around, and yanks me back against him. “No,” he hisses through gritted fangs, eyes as intense as his voice. “No.”

  “But—”

  “No. No more. I shall go. You will stay here. I promise, I promise, to deliver him back to you. I promise. Trust me. Trust me.”

  And as I stare into those terrified, pained, intense gray eyes, I do. There is not a doubt in a single one of my cells that he’ll keep his word. That he’ll save Will, a man he loathes, for me. So I’ll be happy. He’ll do this for me because I can’t. He’ll take the weight of the world from my shoulders and charge into hell with it. This is the vow we’ve made to one another. That we’ll be there for each other no matter what. And it’s been forged in tears and blood and life and death, down to our very souls. How could I have ever, ever questioned that? Him? Never again. Never.

  I blink back my tears and hug my best friend as tight as I can. Without hesitation, he does the same. Why is it I never feel as safe as I do in his arms? “Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

  He kisses the top on my head, my forehead, and breaks our embrace to gently kiss my lips, sealing his promise, before leaving nothing but the cold night in his wake. Lips still puckered, I open my eyes, and he’s gone. Vanished. I’m alone. And dizzy. Finally giving my knees permission to buckle, I slump to the ground, hugging my flashlight and shotgun for comfort. He’ll save him. He will. For me. And it’ll all be okay. He promised. He’ll always come for me, and I’ll always come for him. Until death and beyond. My dark angel. Thank you.

  I hug the shotgun tighter. He’ll be fine. They both will. It’ll all be okay. They—

  A howl of anguish echoes through the silence. A human howl.

  Oliver.

  No, no, no, no, no… Another wail of agony. I struggle to my feet.

  A growl. A roar. Another scream. I’m upright.

  A shotgun blast. I’m running.

  Inhuman yelps and growls mixed with human grunts guide me through the night. A bloodcurdling scream followed by gurgling pushes me to my limit.

  What I find at the end of my journey will haunt my nightmares into the next life.

  Oliver lies against a tree, his breathtaking face ripped to ribbons, head shaking violently as a massive wolf bites into his neck, blood caking both victim and assailant. Hearing my fast approach, the wolf releases his meal, about to bare its teeth at me. It doesn’t get the chance. The moment it loosens its grip on Oliver, the wolf flies as fast as a rocket in the opposite direction, out of sight. Judging from the yelps and thumps, several trees get in her way. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but him.

  I drop to my knees beside my best friend, my already taxed brain unable to comprehend all I observe. Blood. So much blood. His chest is covered in deep slashes inches deep, arms a mess of puncture wounds and claw marks, scalp to jaw slit so the skin on his wan face folds and flaps. I only have a second to take this in before I realize those aren’t the real concern. The blood gushing like a river from his neck just below the jaw line from one of the million holes of the wolf’s fangs left is. His carotid artery has been severed. He’s losing almost a pint a second. Not even a vampire can survive this much blood loss. Heal. He needs time to heal. How…? Okay. I drop the shotgun and flashlight on the ground before sliding my fingers into the hole. Oliver groans in pain and I almost gag, but I quickly feel the worst tear among his warm, squishy flesh. Blood still escapes, but I’ve plugged the dam. For now.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, voice trembling as violently as the rest of me. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise, I promise, I promise…”

  Help. We need help. Help.

  My free hand quakes so hard I can barely lift the wire attached to the walkie to speak into the microphone. “A-A-Agent down,” I sputter out. “I-I re-repeat, a-a-agent down. C-Code red. We-We are…I don’t exactly know where…” I cry. “I…”

  The sobs are about to overtake me. I can’t let them. I meet Oliver’s eyes. He can barely focus on my face, but as the life literally drains from him onto my hands, there’s no mistaking the gratitude, the fear, the pain in them. Absolving me. No. No. Neither of us gets off that easily. A calm clarity washes through me, erasing all my fear. Forged in blood and tears. Never again.

  “I repeat, Agent down, code red. We’re in Alpha sector, and haven’t reached the road or river.” I lift the compass on my necklace. “My compass reads NW. The constellation Orion is to my left, and the Big Dipper is directly over my right shoulder. One, possibly two bogies still in the area. Please hurry.”

  “I’m on my way,” Chandler responds.

  I wrap the wire around my neck before pressing my other hand to the other oozing teeth marks on his neck to staunch their bleeding too. Not good enough. This is bad. He knows it too. He stares up at me, blinking slower than usual. He’s fading. I’d feed him my blood, every drop, but I need my two remaining wits left to protect him. “Hey. Hey!” I shout right into his ear. He’s back for the moment. “You stay with me, alright? No naps now, you hear me? You are not leaving me alone in this. Okay? You-You…” I say, voice quaking. I take a second to compose myself. God, if he felt even an ounce of the helplessness and terror I’m experiencing now while he sat by my bed yesterday, I owe him a lifetime of apologies. “I-I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry. For everythin
g. I was cruel and unfair and from the depths of my soul, I’m sorry. You are my best friend. You are the best man I have ever or will ever meet. You are…my angel. And-And I have no right to ask for anything else from you, I know I don’t, but I’m going to. I am going to beg this of you. Stay awake. Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me, Oliver Smythe. Don’t you dare die. Not tonight. Not for me. We promised we’d always be here for one another. To fight for one another. Don’t you dare renege on your end of the deal now. I need you. Do you hear me? I need you, Oliver. Don’t you dare, dare leave me now. Not you. You promised. You promised me always. I am damn well holding you to it, you bastard. Don’t leave me. Not you. Please.”

  His red tear stained eyes crinkle as I think he attempts to smile as he reaches with his mangled arm to touch my hand, squeezing with the strength of a newborn. I kiss that hand, those graceful fingers, and smile back. He should hate me. I shunned him. Assaulted him. Caused this whole mess. I’d hate me. I do hate me. But not him. Never him. His mouth moves to say what I can’t, but I shake my head. “I know,” I whisper. I kiss his fingers again. “I know. Me too.”

  He breaks eye contact first as his grin drops, gaze whipping forward into the dark forest. The familiar crackling begins a moment later. She’s coming to finish the job. Fast. Not while I’m around, bitch. Plan. Need a plan. We’re literally sitting prey. Okay. Okay. I can’t remove my hand or he’ll bleed to death. Shotgun’s out. Which leaves…

  All the pain and throbbing in my head doubles to nausea proportions, blood trickling out my nose even, as I yank on one of the skinnier trees with my mind. The trunk cracks in two about five feet from the base, the top crashing with a boom, rattling the ground like a tremor. Timber.

  There’s just enough time to blink the spots away before the wolf sprints into the dim light, fangs already exposed. Mine are sharper. Just as she begins to bound over the downed tree, with one thought, still airborne, she turns 180 degrees and rockets, neck first, into the jagged remains of the rooted trunk. I watch without a grain of guilt as the wood enters her flesh, impaling her like a roast pig from neck to torso where the bloody end exits once more. Not even her yelps, her whimpers, or as those gray eyes of hers meet mine, touch me. I just smile at her. I warned she’d be begging for mercy. Never underestimate—