Shadow of the Moon: A Fantasy of Love, Murder and Werewolves

by Kwen Griffeth

  Alwyn remembered the odor of the wolf he had found in the woods. He closed his eyes and whispered an almost silent curse. Then he said, “I shouldn’t have let you leave the estate.”

  “I’m sorry, Alwyn.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said. “Are you alright to drive? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, I never saw him, and I only smelled him after he was gone and Andee was gone. I am so sorry.”

  She started to cry.

  “Stop that,” Alwyn said. His voice was commanding but gentle. “We have no time for that now. Can you drive? Do I need to send one of your sisters?”

  He heard the woman sniff through the phone and when she spoke, her voice was under control.

  “I can drive, Unum. I’m sorry for the outburst. It won’t happen again. I know my oath; I know what is expected of me.”

  “What’s expected of you, dear Miranda, is to get here as quick as you can, without traffic accidents or tickets. Take the time to swing by my apartment and pick up the equipment.”

  “Equipment,” she asked. “All of it?”

  “Yes, all of it. I want to be prepared no matter what awaits me.”

  “You want the case as well?”

  “I do. Pack the case, bring it. Make sure the flask is filled and the flint is sharp.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “No crazy driving, Miranda. I don’t want you wrapped around a tree somewhere. I need you here. He’s using Andee as bait. He won’t hurt her until he gets what he wants.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He ended the connection, lowered the phone and as he turned to reenter saw his mother and Detective Canton standing in the doorway.

  “What do you think you are doing?” his mother challenged.

  “You know what I’m doing. I’m going after her.”

  Canton looked from one to the other and asked, “Want to bring me up to speed on what’s going on?”

  “My son has decided to be a fool. That’s what’s going on.”

  “Mother, stop this. You raised me for this. Allow me to be who I am.”

  “I didn’t raise you to get yourself killed over some human female. She’s not even family.”

  “She was under the protection of this family when he took her. Returning her to safety is as much my obligation as if he had taken you.”

  Canton raised his hand, like a student in class, “Hey, somebody, tell me what is going on.”

  The mother and son ignored him and continued to bicker.

  “Hey,” the detective barked, and the bickering stopped. Both mother and son looked at him, and he felt a chill when their gazes penetrated him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “please tell me what is going on. Has Agent Trakes been kidnapped?”

  Alwyn looked at the man and took a risk.

  “Yes, Detective, Agent Trakes has been kidnapped by a werewolf, who at last report, was in human form.”

  Canton stood still and studied Alwyn’s eyes.

  “Is this the same werewolf who killed Detective Jerry Meeker?”

  The two men locked gazes.

  “He is,” Alwyn said.

  “Is he the one that killed Agent Trakes’ neighbor?”

  “Yes, and he killed the boy in the alley and the boy in the warehouse, who he used to lure Meeker. He also attacked my niece and sent three men to attack me.”

  “Is he also the one who killed the Ferreira boy?”

  Alwyn shook his head, “No, he didn’t do that one.”

  Canton canted his head. His expression said he wanted to ask how the Professor knew this, but he hesitated.

  Alwyn answered anyway, after a fashion, “That’s a topic for another day, Detective.”

  Canton nodded. He’d prided himself on his patience.

  “Why would this werewolf kidnap an FBI agent?”

  “Because he knows my son is a fool and will come after her. That’s why.”

  Canton looked at the mother, who was glaring at her son.

  Alwyn turned to face her.

  “Mother, if he is counting on me coming after him, he is right. I’m coming after him because that is my duty. That is who I was raised to be.”

  “She’s not wolf. She’s not family.”

  “I know that, but if I do nothing, then next week he kidnaps Anna, or one of the children, or a sister, or you.”

  “He’d never attack me. He’d not dare attack a Consenti.”

  “Mother, he has shown himself to be not impressed with rank or position. Your title will not protect you from this wolf.”

  Gennadiya glared at her son. She knew he was right. She didn’t want to admit it.

  Canton interrupted, “So the plan is to wait until he makes contact and then what? He’s going to tell us where to bring money or what?”

  Still looking at his mother, Alwyn said, “This isn’t about money, Detective. And I know where he’ll be.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Alwyn looked at Canton and said, “This guy has been one step ahead of me since this game started.”

  “Game? Several people are dead, and you call this a game?”

  “No, I don’t, but he does.”

  He sat down and motioned for Canton and his mother to do the same.

  “Even as fast as she drives, it will take Miranda some time to get here.”

  The other two sat.

  “Now, detective, as I said, the wolf has been one step ahead of me from the beginning. I initially thought he was brought here by Ferreira to wreak havoc in an effort to avenge his son. I spoke with the diplomat and he assured me that was not the case, but since that first miscalculation, on my part, I have not caught up.”

  “Wait a minute,” Canton said, “You believe Ferreira? You don’t think there’s a chance he lied to you?”

  Alwyn shook his head, “The man would not lie to me.”

  “I agree with my son,” added Gennadiya.

  “You have more faith in humans than I do,” Canton sighed.

  “No, I have more faith in wolves.”

  Canton thought and then asked, “Are you telling me Ferreira is a werewolf?”

  “From an old and distinguished family,” Gennadiya answered. “He would never lie to another wolf, let alone the Unum.”

  “What’s the Unum?” Canton asked.

  “Another time, detective, I promise,” Alwyn answered. Canton nodded.

  “So what’s the plan,” the detective asked. “What support do we need?”

  “I need no support Detective. The plan is simple. Miranda is on her way and with her comes traditional tools of combat used in determining wolf arguments and disagreements. When she gets here, I will check out the tools...”

  “Weapons,” interrupted the detective.

  “Weapons,” agreed Alwyn, “and once satisfied, I will meet the wolf, free Andee, er, Agent Trakes, and then kill him.”

  Canton scowled, “I know I’m new to this werewolf hunting stuff, but do you mind if I point out a couple of areas where your plan might be a little weak?”

  “Have your say, detective.”

  “Well, to start with, what makes you think this wolf guy will turn Agent Trakes loose just for you showing up?”

  “She will have served her purpose. Once I am there, he will have no further need of her. He will turn her loose because to do otherwise will anger me all the more and make me more dangerous to him.”

  “Unless he plans to make you so angry you lose your cool and can’t think?”

  “I am a wolf, detective. I never lose my cool.”

  Canton arched his brows, gave a small smirk and said, “Another minor point I’d like to bring up.”

  “It is?”

  “What if he kills you?” Quickly, he turned to Gennadiya and held up his hands, “You know I don’t want that to happen, but I need to know what the plan is if it does.”

  The mother glared at him, but said nothing.

  “I won’t kill me
,” Alwyn assured, “I have trained for this all my life. But if he should get the better of me, the issue will still be resolved. He will return to where he came, having done what he sent out to do. The Lloyd family will be safe and I will have done what I was bred to do. Protect them.”

  Canton might have been pacified, but the mother was not. She exploded from her seat, started for the door, muttering under her breath with every step. Then she turned and headed back to Alwyn. She stood over him as he sat and looked up at her.

  Gennadiya stared at her son, but spoke to Canton, “My son is showing you the level of his foolishness. He knows, as do I, that if he dies, the wolf will not leave and in fact, will head directly to the doors of this estate. He has, through force, impregnated one of the Lloyd women and he intends to claim her as well as the title to this land. This wolf is as foolish as my son.”

  She turned her head and looked at the detective, “If he comes here, he will not find the hospitality of the Lloyd family. He will find only death, his death. It will be a death that is as slow as it is painful, for he will pay for the harm and injuries he has committed.”

  “And that,” Alwyn said to Canton, “is why men are much more desired to be Unums. The female of the species is too vicious.”

  The mother spun back to face her son, glared at him, and stormed from the room.

  “It’s a good thing you wolves never lose your cool,” Canton observed. Before Lloyd could respond, he added, “Where do you think he is taking the agent?”

  “If I provide that information, you will feel obligated to notify law enforcement, and they will feel obligated to do something. That something will get Andee killed.”

  “I thought you said he wouldn’t kill her?”

  “And he won’t unless he smells an ambush or in some manner believes I have not played by the rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “Of course. Detective Canton, for generations, wolves killed wolves, and many times the killings were over the slightest insult or even perceived insult. Our kind now has laws, customs and rules. We, I, am obligated to abide by those rules. If I do, which I will, he will not harm Andee Trakes. It is me he wants and she is simply the motivation, the bait.”

  “And you know where the two of you are to meet?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then let’s get there.”

  Alwyn studied the man. He appeared sincere, honest and straight-forward. Alwyn sniffed the air, in search of the odor of sweat from the man, an indication of deceit. He tried to inhale the muskiness odor of shallower quicker breaths, also a sign. He detected none.

  “Alright,” the Unum said, “but you will do what I ask, only what I ask and when I ask it to be done. Agreed?”

  The detective nodded once. “Agreed. Now when do we head back to Central Park?”

  Alwyn allowed a small smile to edge the corners of his mouth. He canted his head.

  “Hey,” Canton grinned, “I’m not a wolf, but I have powers of observation and deduction. Central Park is where this mess started. That is where it has to end.”

  “You have notified no one?”

  Again, the one nod of his head, “I have notified no one.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “You will need to wait by the vehicle, some distance away. If you come close, the wolf will sense you and suspect a trick. That will increase the danger to Agent...”

  “Professor, may I ask a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s obvious to everyone that you have feelings for the woman, why not just call her Andee? This is a chance, I hope it’s small, but there is a chance you may die tonight. You might as well go out with her name on your lips.”

  “Why, Detective Canton…”

  Unknown to the men, Gennadiya had reentered, and her voice startled them.

  “Detective Canton,” she said again, “you have the soul of a romantic.”

  The man grinned and his dark skin hid the blush he felt. He stammered and looked at the floor, “I don’t know about that, but if all the good guys survive tonight, you might have your work cut out for you keeping your son and Agent Trakes apart. At least from my viewpoint. I don’t know about him, but she calls him Alwyn more often than Professor. I’m just sayin’.”

  Alwyn watched his mother cross the floor and noticed she held a small necklace in her hands. When she was close, she held it out and offered it to her son.

  “You know you’ll need to remove this when you wolf up, but until then... It was your father’s. I gave it to him when we completed the mating ceremony. He only took it off when he changed.”

  Alwyn took it and studied the craftsmanship of the chain linked by hand. It was gold in color and many generations old. He nodded.

  “It will be my honor to wear this in memory of him and respect and love for you.”

  He slipped it over his head.

  Miranda rushed through the door, carrying a leather case tooled with symbols.

  “Hey,” she said, “I’m here. Let’s go get our girl.”

  Chapter 17

  Alwyn and Canton sat in the car in the dark, parked on the walkway that outlined the park. They seemed to be the only two people left in the world. It had been several minutes since either man had spoken, and it was Canton who broke the silence.

  “You know, your niece was pretty angry at you for leaving her. I don’t know what a Vox Secundo is, but she takes her position serious.”

  In the passenger seat, Alwyn looked across at little more than the man’s outline.

  “It may be in my better interest to let this maniac kill me. Then I won’t have to face her.”

  “I don’t think I’d go that far, but she will be a handful.”

  “She’s been a handful, as you put it, since she was eight years old.”

  Alwyn opened the door and stepped out with his case in his hand. Quietly, he closed the door and placed the case on the hood of the car. He stretched and inhaled deeply of the night air. He savored the taste of it as it rolled across his nostrils and tickled the senses of his sinuses. Canton joined him.

  The detective rounded the car and stood beside the man-wolf.

  “I’m not sure you’ll understand this,” he said quietly, “but there is a part of me that envies you.”

  Alwyn looked down at the shorter, stockier man.

  “Really? How so?”

  “Most men live their lives searching for ways to demonstrate the love they feel for their women. We’re told to buy flowers, which we do. We’re told to keep them stocked in chocolate, which, again, we do. We open doors, help with coats, buy dinners and a thousand other things, that while small, hopefully, add up to something larger. We hope they convey our feelings.”

  “I don’t understand the envy.”

  Canton looked at him.

  “You get the chance to fight for her. I mean, really fight to the death for her. That’s the stuff legends are made of, my friend. And you’re right, you can’t lose. Win, she’s yours for life. Lose, she remembers you for life. How sweet is that?”

  Alwyn smiled.

  “Just a quick question here,” he remarked.

  “Shoot.”

  “If I win, and she’s mine. Does that mean I get a pass on the flowers and chocolates?”

  A deep chuckle sounded in the dark, “Not on your life, my friend, not on your life.”

  Alwyn offered a hand to the detective, and Canton took it.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Canton shook his head, “No, my friend, thank you.”

  Still holding Canton’s hand, Alwyn raised his face to the night sky, looked at the stars brave enough to break through the clutter of ground lights, and howled.

  Startled, Canton jumped and looked around. Only then did he realize the sound came from the man beside him.

  “Holy crap,” he said as he studied Alwyn, “You’re for real.”

  “I am,” Lloyd replied.

>   “I’m sorry. I mean I thought you were honest, but a part of me kept saying it was just a game, just a role play, if you will, but that… that was a real wolf howl.”

  “Heard many wolf howls have you, detective?”

  Canton chuckled.

  “No, I guess not, but that was real.”

  Lloyd raised his face to the night sky and howled again.

  About thirty yards from where Eduardo Ferreira had forfeited his life stood a picnic table and bench combo. In the best efforts of saving the planet, the frame was made of recycled vehicle metal, and the slabs on which to sit or rest a plate were reused plastic made to look like wood. On this table, her hands and feet attached to it with plastic zip-ties, FBI Agent Andee Trakes waited for Alwyn. She sat on the bench, wearing a short black sleeveless evening dress. The hem was at mid-thigh, and she was without shoes. She sat with her back to the table, her feet attached to the frame and her hands bound together in front. She could stand, but any attempt to step away from the furniture would result in her falling. She had done neither. She had waited. She knew he would come for her, and knowing that acted as a coat against the chill of the night.

  Andee heard the howl that pierced the darkness and knew it was him. Her heart had quickened, and a smile grew on her face. He was there. He had come for her. He would free her. She dropped her head, looked at the ground between her feet and blinked back the tears.

  “Alwyn Lloyd,” she whispered, “Unum or not, I’ll kick your butt for doing this. If you let this bastard hurt you, I’ll...”

  Her muttering faltered on her lips, when she realized she was afraid to say the words, even in jest. She tried again.

  “Please, please, Alwyn, be careful.”

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show.”

  The words, deep, raspy, mean, startled her, and her head rose so she could scan the area. There, in the darkness, in the slight mist and shadow, a man, her man, was coming toward her. Alwyn was coming.

  As he neared the area, she noticed he carried a valise. She had seen it mounted on the wall of the display case. She knew it carried the brace of pistols he had shown her. She knew two guns were in there. Dueling guns. Her heartbeat increased.