Lycan Moon: An Urban Fairy Tale (Lycan Evolution Book 1)

by Rick Gualtieri

  He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or throttle her. She really was a piece of work. “Sounds reasonable.”

  “Good. Do you have a car I can borrow? I just need to get back into the city to grab some stuff and I’m not making another trip on that death trap of yours.” She noticed him smirking. “Did I say something funny?”

  “Sorry. It’s just that, well, I was kind of hoping you’d want to stick around.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s already taken care of. Coop drove back down while you were asleep and picked up your things.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Hold on. That asshole broke into my apartment?”

  “He took the keys that were in your bag over there and used them to get into your place and pack some stuff for you.”

  “How’d he even know where to go? Or have you been stalking me longer than you’re admitting?”

  “Relax. We got your apartment number from your wallet, okay?”

  “And that makes it all better?”

  His good mood evaporated in an instant. “If you want your stuff, it’s in one of the rooms down the hall. If not, then that’s your problem.” Without waiting for a response, Dean turned and left the room. She could find her own way.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Ro took one last glance at her father before following Dean through the doorway. By the time she entered the hallway, he was already halfway down the stairs. She let out a frustrated breath and continued down the hall, checking the doorways as she went. She found her things in a bedroom a few doors down and across the hall. The room itself seemed cavernous, albeit it was sparsely furnished with just a wrought iron bed and a solitary double dresser.

  She wondered idly who had owned this house. It obviously had been lived in at some point, but it had the feeling as if it had been abandoned for some time, minus the high-tech security system, of course.

  About a week’s worth of clothing had been hung in the closet. Some toiletries had been left on the dresser along with her laptop and cell phone charger – pretty much the bulk of her meager belongings. He hadn’t brought everything but, then again, she wasn’t planning on being here long.

  She walked back to her dad’s bedroom, retrieved her bag, and then remembered she still had the quart of milk in it from her sojourn to the convenience store. Her stomach growled in response. It had been hours since she’d eaten or drunk anything.

  Figuring it wouldn’t hurt, she opened the milk and dug out an orange as well. She knew she couldn’t live the entire week on a few snack items, but she’d be damned if she was going to go downstairs begging for food.

  A few bites took the edge off her mood, so she decided to explore her new living quarters. To her delight, the bedroom was equipped with a private bath, within which a few of her own personal bath towels had been hung. She smiled despite herself. If her hosts were trying to reassure her, they weren’t off to a bad start.

  Once she finished cleaning up, she checked her phone for messages, but found she had no signal whatsoever, which was strange. They hadn’t traveled that far from the city but, then again, nothing about this trip had been ordinary. A quick check of the time told her it was almost five in the morning, but she felt wide awake. As a hunter, she’d never needed much sleep, and the impromptu nap after her arrival had revived her. Instead of rest, she opted for some early morning exploration.

  She checked on her father one more time before continuing down the hallway. Two more doorways revealed empty bedrooms, while a third contained a large linen closet. Further on, an archway opened up to an impressive media room dominated by a massive flat screen TV, an entertainment center, and a dark leather sectional. In the relatively empty mansion, this room stood apart.

  She spied another doorway leading off the media room, so she crossed over to it and cracked the door open slowly, revealing another bedroom, this one furnished. The sound of slow, steady breathing alerted her to someone sleeping within, presumably one of her hosts. Or maybe both. She had no way of knowing how close of a friend this Coop might be.

  A memory stirred within her. Her father coming back late from a hunt one time when she was still a young girl. He and two other hunters had tracked an entire pack back to their lair, where they’d found them asleep in their human forms. They’d gunned the entire lot down before they could so much as surrender.

  It would be so easy, she thought, before pushing the idea away. Though one of the tenets of the Guild was to never give the enemy quarter or show them mercy, her dad’s story had always bothered her on some level.

  She quietly closed the door and backtracked out. Ro didn’t even remotely trust Dean or his friend, but she wouldn’t make the first hostile move, not unless they gave her reason to.

  She wandered back to her bedroom and decided to try and get some more rest, but not before thoroughly securing her door. Despite their stated intentions and the creature comforts, she was forced to remind herself she was, for all intents and purposes, behind enemy lines.

  9

  Despite Ro’s attempt to sleep, her mind refused to settle as it replayed the events of the night before. She gave up after about thirty minutes and climbed out of bed. By the lightening sky outside the window, she knew dawn was beginning to break, so she decided she’d rested enough.

  From the window, she got a better idea of the estate’s layout. Large trees surrounded the property, blocking her view of the drive from the main road. In the light, she could see her earlier impression had been correct and the landscape had not been tended to in some time – rambling vines and weeds choked what would have been impressive garden beds when in full bloom, and she spied the remains of a pond near the tree line.

  Turning away from the window, she retrieved her phone from the small nightstand and saw there was still no signal. She pocketed the device and decided to try elsewhere in the house. After pulling on her boots and securing her hair into a ponytail, she heard a noise from outside in the hall.

  She moved across the room and leaned against the door but didn’t open it. Footsteps entered her father’s room only to leave a few moments later. After they’d retreated in the direction of the staircase, she cracked the door open and moved swiftly across the hall.

  Her father was still in bed, his eyes closed and sunken. He was restless and sweat clearly stood out on his forehead. The basin by the bed had been cleaned out and a fresh washcloth placed next to it. She filled the basin with cool water from the bathroom, dipped the washcloth into it, and placed it on his forehead. It was all she could do for him for now. Despite all of her skills, she’d never felt so helpless in her life.

  He murmured incoherently and thrashed his head about as she tried to wipe his forehead. “Dad, it’s me. It’s Ro. You’re going to be okay.” Her confident words sounded hollow in her own ears, but she continued to say them as she worked to freshen his face and neck.

  He was burning up and seemed so much paler than he had only a few hours ago. She was afraid to leave his side but didn’t know what more she could do for him. An IV dripped fluids into him, keeping him hydrated, but he needed something to bring his fever down.

  With renewed purpose, she squeezed his hand one more time before leaving the room in search of either Dean or Coop.

  The door at the end of the hallway was ajar, so she surmised whoever the occupant had been was the one who had passed her room earlier. She turned in the other direction and headed to the staircase, her footsteps echoing softly on the stairs beneath her feet.

  The sound of faint movement came from deeper within the house, so she followed it. She passed through what looked to be a sitting room, then a formal dining room lorded over by coffered ceilings and an enormous chandelier. Through one of the entrances to the dining area, she found an expansive kitchen and, inside, Dean rooting through an industrial-sized stainless steel refrigerator.

  He was scowling as if it had offended him deeply, and she couldn’t help but comment, �
�If you’re waiting for it to apologize, I think you’re gonna be waiting a long time for an answer.”

  Startled, he stood up and closed the fridge doors. “Just looking for some breakfast.”

  “Oh? Did you give your personal chef the day off?”

  He glared at her but didn’t reply to her sarcasm. “You find your room okay?”

  “Yeah, though I have to yell at your buddy for forgetting to pack my TV and cable box. I don’t know how you expect me to live like some sort of caveman.” At his withering gaze, she added, “Yes. It’s fine. Seems like he brought almost everything in my apartment.”

  “From what I hear, there wasn’t much else.” He turned away from her and opened the fridge door again, as if expecting its contents to be different now.

  She peered around him and saw it was mostly barren save for a nearly empty gallon jug of milk, a half loaf of white bread, and a banana gone black. “Slim pickings.”

  “Yeah, we haven’t exactly had a chance to go for a grocery run.”

  “Wait a minute. How can you find the time to take care of my dad, stalk me, loot my apartment, and try to find a cure for lycanthropy, but not buy stuff to eat?”

  “Time management isn’t my strong suit.” After a moment, he looked away and added, “I’m also a little low on disposable cash. I used most of my funds paying off Strike and getting supplies for the lab. There’s not much left and it’s not like I can just go to the ATM with the police looking for me and Coop.”

  “Poor white, rich boy can’t afford his Grey Poupon?”

  “I wouldn’t talk, unless you’re planning on eating the drywall, that is.”

  He had a point there. She reached into her pocket, then hesitated. There was something hilarious about this situation – her, a nurse, having to bankroll the heir to a pharmaceutical empire – but necessity made for strange bedfellows. “I have some cash on me. Listen, my dad needs some meds to bring down his temperature, but I can grab some groceries while I’m out getting those.”

  “We’ve got the meds covered. I gave him some IV Tylenol earlier. That should help. If you can loan me the money, though, I’ll have Coop make a run.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off. “You don’t have a car and you don’t know the area. It’ll be faster if he does it. He knows where to go without getting noticed.”

  Speaking of the devil, Dean’s right hand man picked that moment to enter the room. He acknowledged them both, then set to work loading a fresh cup into the Keurig machine on the counter.

  “Fine,” Ro said, “but if I give you my money, you need to give me something in return.”

  Dean leaned back against the kitchen counter and lifted an eyebrow, apparently curious to hear what she had to say. “What exactly are we talking about?”

  “It’s simple. I was thinking about things and I decided to update our deal a bit.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Let me guess,” Coop said. “We should pray that you don’t alter it further?”

  “Not helping,” Dean replied before turning back to the hunter. “Taking care of your dad isn’t good enough?”

  “Look, pretty boy, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t bitten him, so cut the crap. I want intel on Los Colmillos. Problem is, they’re smart. We’ve known for a while that there’s a pack near Central Park but, aside from you, they’ve done a good job of covering their tracks. Far too good for normal whelps. So that’s the new deal. You need to eat, and I need information. As far as I see it, it’s a win-win.”

  Dean’s eyes opened wide. He’d heard that hunters were crazy, and now he was beginning to see why. That he’d agreed to live under the same roof as a woman who was just as likely to shoot him in the face as say “good morning” was nuts enough, but this was pushing the envelope into batshit territory.

  “It’s not that simple. Those bastards killed my parents in front of me just because they could. The only reason they don’t still have me on a short leash is because they know the gravy train is drying up. But there’s no way I’m risking you leading them back here. This is the only secure place where I can continue my research without them finding out.”

  “Is that why you have high-tech security out in the middle of Bumblefuck, New York? Listen, I get it. But this is what I do.”

  He took a deep breath and considered her request. Okay, fine, it hadn’t been a request so much as a demand. It was painfully obvious this woman hadn’t ever been near a charm school.

  On the one hand, he had no love of Strike or his minions. Bunch of lowlife thugs. The problem was that he was connected to them. It was impossible to know how deep, but he could feel it. The closer the full moon got, the more he could sense his pack – albeit he refused to think of them as brothers or sisters. Way out here it was faint at best, but that didn’t mean it was the same for them. Strike was far more experienced at this. If Dean did as the hunter asked and somehow that got traced back to him...

  “It’s too risky.”

  “Aw, what’s the matter?” Ro mocked. “Afraid for your littermates?” Her voice suddenly hardened. “I thought you hated those mutts for what they did to you. Were you lying?”

  “Not really a trusting sort, are you?” Coop interjected, coolly sipping on his mug of coffee.

  She turned to him. “Oh, and how many enemy combatants did you willingly turn your back on in the service?”

  “Touché.”

  “It’s not that,” Dean said. “I’d be happy as a clam if you brought back Strike’s head and used it as a soccer ball. Hell, I might join you in a game.”

  “You’d lose.”

  Dean bit his tongue. It had been less than a day and already it was all he could do not to deck her. He didn’t know how he was going to survive her constant needling without losing his mind, especially with the wolf’s aggressive nature becoming more dominant by the day. If both of them managed to make it to the full moon alive, it would be a near miracle.

  “So what’s the issue, then?” Ro asked.

  “Maybe he’s worried about you tracking blood on the carpets. Cleaning crews are hard to come by when you’re broke.”

  She turned and pointed a finger at Coop. “Don’t think I’m not mad at you. I heard what you did. If I ever find out you’re in my apartment without my permission again, I’m going to plant one of my silver-toed boots up your ass sideways.”

  Coop smirked at her over his mug.

  Dean was momentarily forced to admit he was curious who would win in a fight between them, but dismissed it almost immediately. That was a stupid thought. The last thing they should be doing was fighting among themselves, even if it seemed almost inevitable. “I don’t like it.” When they both stared at him for a moment he clarified, “The Los Colmillos thing. She can plant her boot up your ass all she wants.”

  Ro crossed her arms over her chest and faced him. “You don’t like it? You’re going to need to do better than that.”

  He debated how much to say. He’d already told her far too much. If she knew about his connection to Strike, too, he wouldn’t put it past her to figure out a way to use him as living bait, something he wasn’t quite ready to commit to yet. “Believe me, it’s for our mutual protection.”

  “I don’t need protection from those wolves. I can handle myself.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but your dad can’t, not in his current condition. Look, we can’t let anyone know where we are.”

  “Is that why I can’t get a cell signal in here?”

  She’d noticed that? Oh, who was he kidding? Of course she’d noticed. No point in playing dumb on that one.

  “Yep. Cell jammer. No signals in or out. Go a hundred yards in any direction and you’ll be able to make a call again, but that means anyone looking for you will potentially be able to triangulate your coordinates as soon as you power up. So no text messages, FourSquare, or finding your friends, at least not in the immediate area.”

  “Assuming she has
any,” Coop added.

  Ro shot him a dirty look but didn’t take the bait. “I have people who are gonna wonder where I am.”

  “People?” Dean asked warily.

  “Relax, Fido. If I was going to turn on you, you’d already be scooping your brains off the floor. I meant friends, coworkers.”

  He’d almost forgotten she had a real job. “Fine. Coop will take you.”

  “I will?”

  If Dean weren’t so annoyed, he would’ve chuckled at his friend’s surprised expression. “Yes, you will.” He turned back to Ro. “Once you guys are at a safe distance, you can call whomever you want.”

  She nodded, but then narrowed her eyes. “And my dad will be okay here?”

  “Seriously? I’ve taken care of him this long, I’m not about to hurt him now.” God, this woman was infuriating. If it wasn’t her attitude, it was her paranoia. “Listen, do whatever the fuck you want. You’d just better decide quick, though. The full moon rises in about a week. We need to be stocked and settled before then, and I don’t have much time to waste on your GI Jane crap.”

  “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  “Oh, he knows,” Coop replied, to which she actually barked out a short laugh.

  Dean threw his hands in the air. “Right back at both of you. Nice to know you’re cut from the same cloth. Maybe you two should get a room.”

  “No thanks,” Coop replied.

  “Let me guess,” Ro said, a strangely knowing grin on her face as she looked between Coop and himself for some reason. “I’m not your type.”

  “Nope,” Coop replied, walking over and depositing his cup in the sink. “My mom always told me to stay away from redheads. Too much crazy. Besides, always had a thing for Latinas myself.”

  Ro seemed at a loss for words at that.

  “What?” Coop finally asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied quickly, almost sounding embarrassed for a moment, before addressing Dean again. “Okay. Here’s my final offer. I’ll front you some cash. Hell, I’ll even help shop for the groceries. But you need to give me something on this Strike asshole.”