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

by Kwen Griffeth

  He looked at her, but his expression didn’t change. She wondered if he blamed her for getting captured. He stepped beside her, set down the case and opened it. From the case, he took a silver dagger, about six inches long, the blade sharpened on both edges. It was a forfeit weapon. He used the blade to cut the plastic ties that held her in place. Only then did he look at her.

  “Detective Canton is waiting for you about a hundred yards that way. Go to him.”

  He pointed back in the way he had approached.

  She looked at him, so calm, so under control. One would have thought he was waiting for a train, not preparing for mortal combat.

  She took his other hand and whispered, “Come with me.”

  He smiled, an easy relaxed smile.

  “You know I have other business here. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  “Lloyd.”

  Again the deep, raspy voice.

  “You’ve ignored me long enough. The woman is unharmed. You have seen her. Now send her on her way and turn to face me. Keep your back to me, and I have no qualms about attacking you in that fashion.”

  Over his shoulder, Alwyn answered, “I will deal with you in but a few moments. Whatever your grief is with me can wait that long.”

  “My patience is not without limit, Lloyd. I came here to kill you. I mean to do it.”

  Alwyn lowered his eyes back to Andee.

  “You must be on your way. I have business to attend.”

  She shook her head.

  “No. If you won’t come with me, I’ll stay. I’ll wait for you. We leave the field together.”

  He smiled at her and touched her cheek.

  “You are indeed a woman with whom to build a future, Andee Trakes,” he said. “Some man will be very lucky.”

  She held his hand in place and insisted, “You. I want you to be that man. You build a life with me.”

  “Now is not the time to have such discussions or to think such thoughts. I have other matters.”

  “Nothing matters but us, Alwyn. We matter.”

  “Lloyd, my patience wears thin. Turn and face me.”

  Alwyn smiled at her.

  “Another time?” he said.

  “I’ll hold you to it,” she agreed.

  He pressed the handle of the dagger into her palm.

  “He should not harm you. But if, when it is done, he has killed me, the lust may be too much. If he attacks you, use this blade. Aim for his chest, between the ribs, turn the blade sideways. Stab into the heart. And when he stops, attack up and under the ribcage into his liver. Those are areas that will bleed out before he will have time to heal them.”

  He noticed she had leaned to one side and was looking at the man who stood but a few yards away.

  “Did you hear me? Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “No,” he shook her shoulders. “Say it, Andee, do you understand?”

  She refocused on him and looked into his eyes, “Yes, I understand. Blade sideways, to slip between the ribs. Stab into the heart and then when he hesitates, into the liver. As many times as I can. I understand.”

  “Good. Remember, stab until he turns back to man. That will tell you he’s dead. We cannot maintain wolf form once we’re dead. Remember.”

  She nodded and repeated, “Stab until he turns back to a man. Got it.”

  Alwyn then turned and faced the man-wolf to say, “Since I am the one challenged, the choice of weapons is mine. However, I will defer to your selection. I have brought the pistols if you desire the use of them.”

  Before them stood a tall man dressed in a dark hooded robe covering him from head to foot. Alwyn thought back to the interview with Cat Stevens. The man really was a dark dude.

  “Though your style of dress would not indicate so, I am told you live in the manner of the old ways,” the man said. “Is this true?”

  “It is true,” Alwyn answered. “It is the manner in which I was raised.”

  “Then we will settle this in the old manner. Agreed?”

  Alwyn nodded.

  “Agreed, but I ask for one tolerance.”

  “And that is?”

  “This woman wishes not to leave. She wants to wait so we can leave the field together. I ask that you allow her to be present and safe passage afterward if the decision is against me.”

  The wolf chuckled.

  “If she chooses to stay to witness your death, it means nothing to me. I have no argument with her. She brought you here. That was her only value to me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alwyn turned back to Andee and asked softly, “Are you sure you want to stay? We will fight as wolves. It will be bloody.”

  “You’re going to change?”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve often wondered about that.”

  “I’ll ask you not to watch the process. Please, when I ask, turn your head for a few seconds.”

  “Why?”

  “Changing is a private matter. I have not time to explain more. Look away when I ask.”

  “I will,” she nodded.

  He started to unbutton his shirt as he directed his attention to the man-wolf.

  “One more question, if you will tolerate it?”

  “And that is?”

  The man-wolf sounded peeved.

  “What is your name?”

  “That is none of your concern. In a few minutes, you will be dead and my name will no longer matter. Not to you.”

  “Who sent you?”

  “That is another question. But, like the first, is of no importance to you.”

  “Who will I be obligated to thank after I dispatch you?”

  The man-wolf smiled.

  “If you dispatch me, do not worry. Those who sent me will contact you. Should you kill me, this will not end with my death. The only way this ends is with your death.”

  The last piece of clothing Alwyn removed was the necklace given him earlier that evening. He twisted to look over his shoulder at Andee and held out his hand to give her the necklace.

  “Here,” he said. “Keep this for me until I ask for it back.”

  She nodded and took the jewelry.

  “If I die here, report to my mother what he said about the conflict.”

  “That it will be over?”

  “No. It won’t be over. Others will come. I don’t know who. Tell her to be on guard at all times.”

  “But I thought wolves didn’t lie to wolves.”

  He smiled and raised his hand to her cheek.

  “With this one, he lives the old ways when they suit him. I can smell the pasta on him from here.”

  He turned back to face the animal before him, and over his shoulder he said, “Look away Andee.”

  She did.

  Andee’s breath caught, when she looked back. Her hand shot to cover her mouth in a motion she hadn’t used since she was a girl. The creatures before her were magnificent. The knowledge that one of them would be dead in minutes made them all the more magnificent.

  Alwyn was large, huge even, and a solid streak of black hair, six to eight inches wide, ran the length of his back. From the black, a mix of grey fur covered his ribs and sides, and by the time his underbelly was reached, the fur was white. It was thick, full and even in the dark reflected what little light was available. The tail was extended from the body, as if giving the impression he was bigger than he was. He looked away from her across the opening to his enemy, but she was sure his blue-ice eyes glittered with the expectation of combat. She resisted the urge to reach for him and run her hands the length of his body.

  Across from him, larger still than Alwyn, the wolf waited. He was a dark charcoal color, and his green eyes sparkled with excitement with what was moments away. His fur too was thick and starting from the length of his back, changed color only slightly, black to charcoal to a dark grey. The coloring seemed to enlarge the mouth, and the teeth he exposed frightened the woman, even though she knew they were not to be used on he
r.

  A moment of sadness crossed through her heart. These two beautiful men, beautiful wolves, who should be working to save their kind, were determined to destroy each other. A sad realization quickly followed the feeling. The species Homo Lupus was doomed. They needn’t worry that mankind would destroy them. They would do the job themselves. It was in their nature.

  The two wolves eyed the other, snarling and growling. Then they both raised their heads and howled. Andee didn’t know the reason. Was it a song of battle, or to tell the world a top predator was about to die? They sang together, but it was not a duet. They sang in unison, but it was a contest as surely as the conflict to come. As the last of the notes of that mournful melody reverberated through the trees of Central Park, the beasts turned and charged.

  The sound of the impact and the grunts made vibrated against Andee. She remembered sitting on the front row of football games and hearing the solid tackles. She heard the teeth snap together, trying to bite, trying to tear the other’s flesh. She heard the grunts of effort as they tried to push their foe into position to bite. They spun, and what had been a counterclockwise contest of maneuvering for position was now a clockwise rotation of grunts, shoves and bites. A yelp of pain and a growl. A head shook as it tried to rip flesh from bone, tried to break bone.

  The two parted, circling now about ten feet apart, looking for the opportunity to strike. Each tried to find the weakness of the other. They circled counterclockwise again, heads lowered to protect throats and keep the attack low. Saliva dripped from the open mouths that labored for breath but maintained low growls.

  “Get him, Alwyn. Kill him.”

  She spoke the words before she became aware she was cheering for him.

  They turned, charged and crashed together. They grunted from the impact, snapped, snarled and bit at any body part they could locate. They pushed for leverage, one against the other until both stood on hind legs. Their heads twisted as they tried to find purchase with their teeth.

  Andee felt grass in her mouth, kicked up from the impact. She kept her eyes of the wolves as she reached and plucked it from her lips. It wasn’t grass. It was fur. She spit, but still kept watch over the battle.

  The two broke apart a second time. They circled. Their massive chests heaved with the effort to replenish air, their sides sucking in air as if they were bellows. She saw blood on Alwyn’s ribs.

  Fear shot through her, but she reminded herself it might be the other’s blood, a mere stain or smear, not Alwyn’s own.

  They continued to circle, both short of air, both tired and breathing hard. Where saliva had dripped, now a white bubbly foam formed. Both could be mistaken for mad dogs, had she not known better. Tails were only slightly lower. They circled and growled, but less, saving their effort for attack. She got a glimpse of Alwyn’s eyes, her Alwyn, she thought, his eyes, still focused, still intense, still angry.

  She smiled. Her Alwyn.

  As if fired by an unseen gun, both turned and rushed to meet the other, both determined to win, both committed to kill the other. Both snarled, twisted, turned, searched for an advantage. One cried in pain, and she knew it was Alwyn.

  They spun, each biting the other for half a turn and then separated. The wolf backed up three steps. Alwyn lay on the ground. He was on his side, but he rolled until he was on his belly. He tried to stand and failed. He couldn’t. His left foreleg was broken. She could see the bone extending from where she sat. He lay holding the leg before him. He tried to stand, and struggled to three legs, but fell. He laid there breathing hard as he watched and waited for the attack to finish him. He was determined that both would die tonight. He waited for the attack, but it didn’t come.

  The wolf changed into man.

  He sat, naked, in the grass, breathing hard, his legs pulled up and crossed beneath him. In the muted light, she could see the bite marks and tears in his skin across his chest and along his arms. Alwyn had done damage but not enough. The man looked at the wolf before him and between massive gulps of air, said, “Do not die... ashamed, Alwyn Lloyd. You have... fought with courage... and you die with dignity. I will tell stories of... your death for years. I will... sing songs of thanks... to the moon... for you... and this fight. Thank you... Alwyn Lloyd.”

  Man turned to wolf and rose to stand. He raised his face to the moon and howled. He sang his song of victory.

  Without thinking, Andee lunged from her seat on the top of the table and as the wolf walked toward the fallen Alwyn, she leapt. She heard him grunt in pain when she landed. She spread across his shoulder and neck, covering the vital area with her body. For a moment, she resembled a confused turtle without its shell, but she quickly composed herself and hunched over her Unum. The wolf stopped and canted his head. He sat. He changed to man.

  “What are you doing, girl? This does not concern you. Your safe passage is dependent on you remaining an observer only.”

  On all fours, not unlike a wolf, she turned her head and looked into the assassin’s eyes.

  “This is a good man,” she said.

  Her voice was tight, and she was proud it sounded without tremor.

  “You will not kill this man. Not tonight, nor any other night. You have beaten him. You have won. Let that be enough. Go, sing your songs and tell your tales.”

  The man inhaled and sighed.

  “I do not wish to hurt you,” he said, “but understand me, I will not hesitate to do so if you remain in my way. When I change, I will charge and if you remain there, I will rip your throat out and drip your blood on the one you call a good man. He will know I killed you before I kill him.”

  “I could beg you,” she said, “don’t do this. But you won’t listen. You live only to do damage and hurt others. You will not kill Alwyn Lloyd. I won’t let you.”

  He studied her as if seeing her for the first time. He sighed again.

  “I recognize what the Unum sees in you. I took you, above all others, knowing he would be unable to stay away. There is a connection between the two of you, even I can see it.”

  He stopped and looked across the grassy area and then looked back.

  “I have sworn to kill Alwyn Lloyd, and this I will do. You have a choice, and I will stand by it. You can back away and cherish your connection to him in memory. Or you can die, here, with him, tonight. The choice is yours to make.”

  She hesitated only the briefest of moments and answered, “I will remain, and doing so, I will avenge Meeker, Raul, Miranda and my dog.”

  He smiled at her bravery and nodded respectfully.

  He changed and became wolf.

  He charged.

  He made one mistake.

  Long before the woman was Special Agent Andee Trakes, FBI, she was known as Andee Trakes, butt-kicking goalie of UNC. She was used to large people rushing toward her, trying to get past her, trying to score. Most were not wolves, but many were almost as mean. Goalie Trakes was not intimated by the thought of her head being a target. Many opponents had tried to remove it for several years.

  She gritted her teeth, braced her legs, gripped the dagger in her right hand and silently repeated the manta she had practiced over the years while anticipating women rushing her intending to score.

  “Come and get it.”

  The wolf lunged, and she braced. She raised her left arm in front of her face, in the manner she had seen dog trainers do. The wolf attacked at that spot and bit down. The pain released an unintended scream to echo through the park. As the scream faded, she found she could not inhale. She feared she’d pass out. The force and weight of the animal bowled her over, and he was on top of her. Ignoring the pain, the crunch of her bones, she focused on the spot where the neck met the chest and stabbed the dagger forward with all the strength left in her. Up and under the left front leg. The wolf howled in pain.

  The howl of pain matched her howl of anger. She was past pain and with the cry from the wolf, her arm was released. She sucked in air and regained strength. She stabbed again. Again, the wol
f cried.

  He was still on top of her, but now scrambling to get away from her. His hind legs scraped and scratched her legs and lower stomach as he tried to find the traction to distance himself.

  She stabbed again. He yelped. Blood from the wounds covered her face and only then, did she close her eyes. She hugged the neck of the animal with her injured arm, holding herself under him. She stabbed again. And again.

  Any intention to attack was gone. The wolf wanted only to escape. He rolled to his back and balled up to scratch her loose with his hind legs. Her stomach and lower body was ripped by the powerful claws. She stabbed again.

  She felt him weaken. His efforts to get free grew less frantic. Sensing she was winning gave her strength and she stabbed the beast again.

  He rolled to his side. No strength in his movements. His howls had become whimpers. She kicked herself distance from his hind legs, but kept hold of his neck. His gapping mouth was beside her face, but he struggled for breath, not her flesh. She stabbed again.

  Breathing hard, weak, tired, bloody, Andee kicked herself free of the animal. She rolled once to increase the distance and managed to get to her knees. She sucked in air and looked at the animal. Her fear had left her and only anger and revenge remained.

  She remembered Alwyn’s words. Stab to the liver. Bleed him out.

  She crawled forward, and stabbed up and under the bottom of the rib cage. Once, twice, three times, she stabbed and her reserve of strength was gone. Holding the dagger in her hand, she knelt beside the wolf and allowed the tears.

  “Change, damn you,” she gasped between inhaling the air. “Change.”

  He did not.

  She stabbed again. Up and under the ribs. Once, twice, three more times, until she could lift the blade no longer. He was still wolf. Her tears increased.

  “Change, you bastard.”

  Her gaze remained on the wolf. Hoping to see the initial start of the change. She didn’t know where to look. She sat on her folded legs silently begging the wolf to die, to change. It didn’t.

  Alwyn had told her they changed to human when dead. Was he healing as she watched? Was he getting stronger as the last of her strength faded?

  “I’ll stab you again,” she threatened, but even the thought required too much effort. She’d never have the strength.