Fatal Moon

by L. E. Perry

  Carl crossed over to him and took the big T-shirt from his hand. "Just go."

  Jordan stared at him a moment, then left. He stopped at the doorway and bellowed over his shoulder, "Up your protein twenty percent." He hoped his voice sounded confident.

  * * *

  Jordan slid into the smooth leather seat of the sporty little yellow coupe and took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts. He felt like ripping Carl’s head off and dealing with the consequences later. He took another deep breath, put the keys in the ignition, and his foot hit the floor like a jackrabbit. The engine roared into life and Jordan yanked his leg up, letting it slow down to a gentle thrumming. He took another deep breath and counted to five while he released it, closing his eyes and listening to the deep growl of the car he so loved to drive. The idea of having control over the beautiful machine while he was angry, and harming it, put him off more than the thought of ripping Carl to pieces. He forced himself to calm down. His anger wasn’t getting him anywhere, as usual, and he had a job to do. He put the car in gear and crept down the gravel drive, careful to keep the tires from spitting the gravel onto the car’s enamel skin.

  He knew Diana’s presence was a threat to Carl, and he tried to think through what Diana would see, and what she would think of it. He wasn’t happy that he had a tight shirt on. He didn’t like drawing attention to his muscles. He focused on the house, on Carl. What would seem normal, what would seem out of place? He tried to remember what had seemed normal to him, and shook his head. The house had changed since then, reinforced with steel bars and silver hardware. It might not seem normal, but it shouldn’t be alarming.

  Arriving late at the lounge in the train station, Jordan saw the back of a head of long, black hair at the bar and assumed it was Diana's. Other than that, the lounge was empty. He walked up, feeling awkward. "Diana?"

  She turned around and caught him off guard with the intensity of her striking blue eyes. He felt himself falling into them, and focused his mind sharply. She was stunning in a slightly exotic way, could have been a supermodel. He hadn’t expected that at all.

  She measured his expression coolly. "Were you expecting someone else?" Her glossy, thick hair was feathered around her face and her full lips and dark eyebrows intensified the deep-blue of her eyes, which presently displayed impatience.

  Many typical lines came to mind, and he quickly rejected them. "Would you like to finish your drink?" He reached for a barstool – she had chosen a seat that stood alone.

  "Hmm... the first thing he does is quiz me. No, the first thing he does is tell me he can't arrive in time, so would I please be so kind as to get drunk so that I'll be ready when he gets here." Her gaze penetrated him as she tapped her fingers on the varnished wood counter.

  Jordan pulled up the stool and sat down at an arm's length from her. He would have liked to have gotten closer, and that annoyed him. "No, the first thing he does is find out whether his boss' instructions have made her as mad as they made him." He paused so the next words would sink in, "I'm Jordan, the houseboy."

  Diana appraised him coolly. "In that case, let me finish the drink, Jordan the houseboy." She stared at him as she lifted the glass to her shiny red lips.

  Jordan felt her stare measuring him, and he wondered how he looked to her. He thought his dark features, while not particularly handsome, were well-balanced. He was clean-shaven, but his face had a hardness to it that was intimidating to many people, and in pictures, he noticed his eyes were always narrow, as if he were squinting. Or as if he'd seen enough of life and was trying to filter out any more of it than he absolutely had to endure.

  "So, you're just a lackey working for an arrogant master?" she asked, her lips parting slowly in a sensual smile.

  Jordan looked down for a moment and shook his head. She flustered him as if he were still in grade school. "He just got back this morning, and he had a lot on his mind. We're sorry you had to wait, it wasn't intentional."

  "Don't worry, I'll reserve judgment until we meet. I know I'm more impatient than I should be. Actually, I've really been enjoying the view." Diana stared at him as she gestured out the large picture window at the river that wound through a steep, rocky valley.

  "If you think this view is nice, wait 'til you see the castle."

  She raised her exquisite eyebrows. "The castle?"

  He grimaced. It was his own private term for the house. "It's a bit grander than what I grew up with. It also has a beautiful view of the valley and a private stream of its own.” There was no point hiding from her what she’d see with her own eyes soon enough. “It's not a bad place to spend a few days."

  "Well then, a couple of weeks should be just grand," she said, twirling a cherry from the condiment rack by its stem.

  "Don't settle in until you meet the master of the house. I made that mistake myself, and I'd hate to see you lose all your hair. You must have had it your whole life."

  He watched a smile spread across her face as he realized how lame his attempt at humor sounded, and it chilled him. He wasn't sure if it was just that he was too attracted to her, or that she seemed the type to use it against him. "Where's your luggage?" he asked, looking around at her feet.

  "I had it put in a locker when I got the message." Diana's dark brows framed her question. "Does he own these people? I haven't experienced such solicitous attention since I won a first-class ticket to Maui."

  Jordan shrugged. "He might. He can afford it." His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly before he changed the subject. "If we can't get your bags into the car I can have someone bring them up. You might want to bring just the things you need."

  "It'll fit in the trunk of a standard car, I'm sure. I didn't expect to be picked up in a van."

  "You won't be disappointed; it's not a van. But your luggage probably won't fit."

  "Hmmm. Well, let's see what we can do." She stood up and stretched languorously. His breath caught at the sight of the long, shapely legs utterly exposed between the black miniskirt and the high T-strap leather stilettos.

  Diana's short jacket had been hanging over the low back of the bar stool, obscuring the view, and Jordan took the chance to appreciate the swelling curves under the creamy silk blouse. He told himself that he was simply starved for the sight of a sophisticated woman after several months of forced hermitage. It would be a shame to let her go. He followed along behind her casually swaying hips as she led the way to the locker.

  "How many of these do you have?" he asked as she turned the key in the lock.

  She turned around and let her gaze slide slowly over his face. "I have one. This is it." She slid a suitcase over to him, then reached in again and pulled out a carry-on bag. "I don't think I'll need much, which is good because overseas travel doesn't allow for much. Perhaps one of you could lend me a few things to wear until I go shopping," She added flippantly.

  Jordan lifted the heavy suitcase, then led the way toward the car.

  "Sorry about the... oh, I guess you didn't notice, did you?" she asked, following him.

  "Notice what?" he answered.

  "No, you wouldn't," she said. "The suitcase weighs a ton. But then, with a body like yours, what's a ton?"

  Jordan smiled to himself as they stepped through the automatic doors and walked toward the Jaguar. He tried not to think about how he moved, but he was afraid he was strutting.

  "Is that yours?" She asked when he set the luggage down. "I see what you mean about fitting. These cars don't even have back seats, do they?" She leaned over to look inside the small, two-seat compartment.

  Jordan almost missed his cue as he stared at the heart-shaped curves of her backside. "I think we can fit the suitcase in the trunk, but you may have to get cozy with the carry-on." He opened the trunk and stashed the suitcase next to the groceries, then closed it.

  She was settled in snugly, bag on her lap, by the time he slid behind the wheel. He pointed out the views as they drove into the woods, forgetting t
o dissuade her. He loved the scenery. She rolled the window down and breathed the pure, cold air, tainted with ice and fallen leaves.

  "How much farther are we going?" she asked.

  "It’s just down the other side of this hill. But it’s a long hill, and the road isn’t paved."

  She looked out the window again. "I knew it was in the mountains, but I didn't realize it was quite so remote."

  Jordan belatedly realized this was as good an opportunity as any to start convincing her not to stay too long. "We were surprised to hear you wanted to stay here. I don't know about that shopping you wanted to do. We might be able to get out in a week or two, if the snow holds off. Otherwise, we’ll be trapped."

  "Hmmm. I hope you have several spare shirts." She gripped her seat, looking straight down the cliff at her right. "What size is Carl? Is he another Goliath?" Her voice sounded strained despite the attempt at humor, and Jordan assumed it had more to do with the sheer drop off the side of a mountain road than Carl's possible size.

  Jordan shifted into a lower gear. "He's tall but slim."

  Diana sighed with relief as they passed the cliff. She shook her head and stared up at the tall peaks, laughed under her breath, then said, "Wonderful. I'm going up into the mountains beyond the limit of standard telephone wires, to be trapped in a castle with a couple of giants."

  Jordan pressed the accelerator as they approached a hill. "We're a lot like humans, if you ignore our diet of Englishmen."

  She grinned. "Yes, but it's the human part I'm worried about."

  "You come from California, don't you?" He reminded himself that secrets ruined relationships, and that would doom this one, so hands off. Not that he had time for a relationship with her before she needed to be gone, anyway.

  She laughed, but didn't answer.

  They came around a corner and the huge house came into view. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her frown; not the response he had expected.

  "Why all the grills in the windows? Surely you don't have to worry about gangs up here?"

  He looked up at the house. "No, just the wolves," he said without thinking.

  Her glossy black hair flew as she turned to him. "Wolves!"

  "And bears, and rabbits," he responded quickly.

  "Wolves and bears and rabbits! Oh, my!" She said, her eyes glinting with amusement.

  Jordan slowed as they hit the ruts of the graveled drive. "The rangers are reintroducing wolves up north of here, and we don't know what it'll do to the rest of the wild animals' behavior." It sounded lame to him, but she seemed willing to accept it.

  He pulled around in the circular drive, right up to the front door, and got out to come around and help her, but she was already standing up. He quickly opened the trunk and pulled the heavy suitcase out, then closed it. She was looking at the door. "And why the silver artwork on the door?"

  "Decorative," as well as functional, he thought. "Can I get that for you?"

  She appraised him. "Yes, I'm sure you can." She handed him the bag.

  "Why don't you just come inside and get comfortable? I'll..."

  The big door opened. "Diana– " Carl was standing on the dais holding the silver door handle with a towel.

  Diana looked up and smiled.

  Jordan sighed inwardly. Carl had looks and a charisma that he would never match. He could write Diana off as Carl's, unless she disliked skinny boys.

  Carl stood for a moment, then his good grace took over. "You must be tired; let me show you to your room. Jordan will bring your luggage." He dropped the towel, took her arm and swept her through the huge metal-clad doorway and up the stairs to the guest quarters. Jordan followed a few paces behind with the luggage, stepping to pick up the towel as he passed the doorway.

  Chapter 9 – The Hunt Continues

  It was a cold, wet night in downtown Seattle. A pair of eyes continued to watch the neon-lit doors that illuminated the dark street, down which Luke, in lupan form, had walked a moment earlier. His nose carefully sifted the scents of the city, irritated by the acrid scents of petroleum and filth. A steady drizzle of rain fell, but the city stench overrode the neutralizing effects of water. People stood shoulder to shoulder behind the luminescent signs in the windows of the bar, their musky libidos and perfume-laden aromas spilling like a stew into the narrow alleyway.

  With a huff of breath, Luke backed into a corner behind a dumpster, rose on his hind paws and transformed from wolf to human. Then, he strode into the claustrophobic confines of the Mexican-style nightclub. No one noticed him as he passed through the crowd. A deft psychic suggestion reminded someone they were late getting home, and Luke dropped quickly onto the vacated barstool, immediately forgotten as the crowd around him swirled. The men and women paired off for cursory inspections, then separated to check out other options. Luke's target was hitting it off well with a tall redhead. Luke took shallow breaths of fetid air as he overheard the infuriating, witless exchange of what passed for pleasantries in a dive like this. He knew he would have to listen to every inane thing the man said all night. He could nearly recite it by now.

  "Oh Baby, it's been ten years since I've been able to do this. I can't believe I’ve found someone so wonderful. You are truly a miracle worker."

  Luke couldn't believe there were humans stupid enough to buy into these lines. And, the man's diction was atrocious. Luke spoke ten languages now, and he was more fluent in all of them than this idiot was in the single language he knew. The man spoke like a romance novel written by a twelve-year-old, and the women he hit on didn’t seem to pick up on it. There were either a lot of unsophisticated women in Seattle, or this seducer was careful to select the less intelligent ones. Luke had been to Seattle before, and knew it had to be the latter, which meant the man was cunning, at least on some level, which meant he could be dangerous if Luke let his guard down.

  Luke was infuriated that he hadn’t been able to narrow the suspect list down further from the Canadian travelers he’d told Dwayne to target. He knew the skull had disappeared between the time Dwayne had taken another look at it, and the time Luke had gone back to it. He had transferred his latest memories onto the skull shortly before Dwayne’s visit, while showing him how it worked and testing to see how well Dwayne could use the device. It was a difficult technology, created by the Sh’eyta for use by werewolves, who also had a trace of Sh’eyta blood. The overlords would be expecting a report on the situation that was developing in Washington. He knew it hadn’t been removed by the locals who were digging up the island looking for buried treasure; everything the diggers found was inspected and documented by a small group of people with easily accessed, pliable minds, and none of them was vibrating with the excitement of finding such a rare treasure. As remote and tricky as the hiding place was, whoever found it was trying to find it. But what if the person who had located it wasn’t the one sent to hunt down the rebellious Skykomish pack? If that were the case, there was no way to know where the thief was, and he’d have to go after the woman who had confounded and nearly killed him five centuries ago. That was a huge risk, and one he was reluctant to consider.

  Dwayne had sent the requested list, and Luke had visited everyone on it, quickly eliminating those whose minds were open books but showed no memory of a crystal skull. He was now back to the ones whose minds were compartmentalized in a way that hid their thoughts from him to the point that he would have to dig especially deep. This process could leave them with psychic lobotomies, which was a transgression of the law that said to never harm humans. Any transgression was a risk, so he had to minimize any harm that might come of his actions. He had to watch and wait, while time ticked away.

  "That's a beautiful dress!” the slimy little man said to the redhead. “Where did you get it?"

  She smiled as she took a sip from the glass the man had given her. "Jeannine's on Third."

  Feigned surprise. "Really? I was just in there. I guess it just looks so much better on you that I didn't
recognize it."

  Titter.

  The bartender handed Luke a glass of tonic water and he lifted it slowly to his pursed lips. He sifted the verbal exchange for any intimation that this man was the actual predator he was looking for, as he suspected he was not. If this was not the one, the last three days would have been for nothing. He would have to backtrack, find one of the last two potential adversaries and start the process all over. He took another swallow of water and settled in to watch and listen for a few hours.

  It was only forty-five minutes before Luke stood up to follow the pair out of the bar. The man had scored already, and with his first play of the night, no less. Disgusted, Luke passed through the doorway and took a deep breath of wet, exhaust-laden air. At least it was a change from the sharp tang of alcohol and the musty bursts of cologne and perspiration. He dodged through the alleyway, shifting from man to wolf as he passed cement pillars in the ash and charcoal shades of the Seattle alleys at night. A quick scan told him no one had noticed the anomaly of a human going in and a long-legged canine coming out.

  The man came around the corner with the redhead on his arm; she was laughing as if he had just said the most hilarious thing in the world. Luke had listened to the man and knew for a fact that he couldn't have said anything that witty. The man was the most boring creature Luke had ever known, and Luke had known some exceedingly boring creatures. He felt sorry for the woman. The man would be tossing her out of his room before the sun came up, and she would be surprised. They always were. That was the kind of woman this man liked. Luke was tempted to kill the man just to put himself out of misery, but then he would never know if he had killed the right man or not, and worse, he might not be able to find the skull. Luke watched the man open the car door for her, just like the gentleman he most certainly was not.