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

by Rick Gualtieri

  “But...”

  She walked up to him and jammed a finger in Dean’s chest, hard enough for him to feel it. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. I’ll be damned if I don’t come out of this lunar cycle without killing at least one wolf for my trouble. If it’s not one of Los Colmillos’s mutts, then I’m liable to be a lot less choosy on who I turn my gun barrel toward next. Get my drift?”

  Something about her tone told him she meant it when she said, “final offer.” He still considered it a stupid risk, but it seemed it was either the potential danger of Strike figuring out where they were, or the very real danger of a hunter who knew exactly where to find him.

  After a moment, he held out a hand to her. “Deal.”

  10

  Ro sat in the passenger seat, distinctly aware of Coop’s mute presence beside her. Nothing looked familiar outside her window, but that wasn’t a surprise. Everything probably appeared different in the daylight compared to the evening dusk.

  He seemed to take a different route away from the mansion than Dean had taken the night before. The road twisted less and there was considerably more traffic now than she remembered. Within a few minutes, he accelerated onto the interstate. Definitely a different road than last night.

  Either way, she hated not being in control. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re heading back. Not all the way, just to within the city limits. If anyone is keeping tabs on you, or you accidently tag your location on a Facebook post, they won’t be able to trace you back to the mansion.”

  “You guys are being a little ridiculous, don’t you think? Especially after your buddy waltzed into a busy emergency room. People could have easily recognized him.”

  “Just for the record, I think that was a stupid thing to do.” After a few more seconds, though, he added, “People don’t recognize what they’re not looking for. Dean Mason is old news compared to whatever politician is being asshole of the week. You didn’t even recognize him and you were right in his face. The only people really looking for him are cops and wolves.”

  She considered this man, Dean’s friend, and decided to ask outright, “You really think he can find a cure?”

  “If anyone can, it’s him. He’s damn near brilliant ... when he’s not stoned or drunk off his ass.”

  “Are you telling me I’m leaving my dad alone with a junkie?”

  “Recovering junkie. He’s been clean for months. Ever since he was turned.”

  She knew werewolves weren’t susceptible to many psychoactive drugs, so it didn’t impress her like he obviously expected. Still, it didn’t seem worth pursuing at the moment other than as a way to antagonize the man in the driver’s seat. “So what’s your take on this? Dean said the whelps killed your sister.”

  “You have quite the way of speaking bluntly.” She turned to look at him, saw the hard set of his face. “They tortured her first to get Dean and his parents to cooperate. Dean’s dad gave them everything he had on hand, but it still wasn’t enough.”

  “With wolves, it never is. They’re never sated. Always hungry for more, and they don’t care how they get it.”

  “When the Masons told them there wasn’t anything else left in the house, they killed Tasha, then started on the cook, Mrs. Stevenson.”

  “Why didn’t he go to the cops?”

  “And tell them what? That a pack of werewolves was blackmailing one of the richest families in town? Dean was in a tight spot. He didn’t know what was happening to him. All he wanted was a cure, and he thought by cooperating they would give him one. He didn’t know it was all bullshit. When Dean got frustrated enough and tried to push back, that’s when they finally decided his parents were expendable.” Coop kept his eyes ahead, but Ro could tell they were focused on what had to be a horrific memory. “Look, I don’t know if you have the key to a cure, I really don’t. And I can’t guarantee that your dad is going to survive this. But what I can tell you is that if I ever come across any of those wolves, I’ll tear them apart myself.”

  “I’ve got a contact in the force. Another hunter. If you guys can get me more info on this pack, he can help. Maybe we can take them down for good.”

  “That’s gotta be Dean’s call. It’s his hide that’s on the line.”

  Ro got the sense she wasn’t going to get him to spill what she wanted to know. She could hear the man’s loyalty in his voice. So, partially to change the subject, but also to keep herself from getting bored, she picked up a small piece of paper in the center console and opened it up. “...milk, juice, and six pounds of steak?”

  “He likes red meat right before he turns,” Coop explained. “The rest is for after.”

  “Anything to keep the whelp satisfied, eh?”

  “Makes the transition easier for everyone,” he answered without any sense of irony. “By the way, what is it with that whelp thing? Why do you keep calling him that?”

  “It’s just what we – hunters, that is – call werewolves.”

  “Is it supposed to be some kind of insult, like calling them puppies or mutts?”

  Ro shrugged. “I guess so. Never really thought about it much.”

  “Kind of racist, don’t you think?”

  “Racist?”

  “Yeah. I mean, like calling someone a spic or a raghead. No offense, but not the most progressive thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Quite the contrary,” she remarked. “It doesn’t matter what color your skin is. Once you change into a wolf, we’ll put a bullet in your head all the same. We’re equal opportunity that way.”

  They continued to drive in uncomfortable silence. Eventually, the Manhattan skyline appeared in the distance. A few minutes later, Coop parked the vehicle in front of a small grocery store in the Bronx. He nodded to Ro and said, “You can turn your phone on now. Check your messages, call your boss, whatever you need to do. I’ll be right back.”

  She waited until he climbed out the car before powering on the phone. At least a dozen texts were waiting for her from Kamika. Are you sure you don’t want to meet up for drinks? ... Hel-lo, Earth to Ro ... until finally culminating with Are you okay?

  “Shit.” She thumbed her response into the phone. Sorry for being MIA. Family emergency. I’ll be out of town for a while. Don’t worry about me. She knew she’d get a barrage of texts back, but in the meantime, she checked her other messages, but they were mostly from Kane. She wasn’t surprised to see more of the same come-ons. The guy really didn’t know how to take a hint. She deleted them just as her friend began to text her back.

  She sidestepped Kam’s inquiries with purposefully vague answers, then called her manager and gave her the same story about needing to tend to a family emergency and that she would be out of town for at least a week.

  “You can call in for the week, then you’ll need to apply for family leave if you need to be out longer,” Margo, her manager, explained with a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

  “I understand. Hopefully I won’t need any longer.”

  “Well, I hope they feel better. Who did you say it was?”

  “It’s my dad,” she answered, figuring the truth was better than making something up. “He’s been sick for a while, but I think he’s turning a corner. I just want to make sure he gets better.”

  Ro’s sincerity must have touched something within her manager because she gave no further argument. “I’m so sorry to hear that. You should have mentioned something to me sooner. You could have applied for leave a lot earlier.”

  Yeah, but I didn’t know my dad was still alive until now. “Thanks, but it’s kind of personal.”

  Margo sighed. “We’re here for you. I hope you realize that.”

  “I do. I appreciate it.”

  “Keep in touch, Rowan. I hope he gets better.”

  As soon as she ended the call, Coop returned with a brown paper bag in hand, the type that winos suspiciously carried to conceal open liquor bottles. “What’s that? Hair
of the dog that bit you?”

  Coop glared as he handed her the bag. “It’s a burner with a couple hundred minutes. I figured you should have one for emergencies. You can use it without anyone tracing it back to you.”

  Ro blew out a breath and shook her head as she reached into the bag and pulled out a cheap cell phone and charger. “Or the mansion? Great, so I’m Jason Bourne now.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Is this where your money’s going? Paying for this low level spy crap?”

  “It’s this ‘crap’ that’s been keeping our asses safe. Now cut the chit chat and let’s get in there and get what we need. We’ve been here too long as it is. Cash only, no credit cards, keep your cap on.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a mock salute and climbed out of the car.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Twenty minutes later, they returned with a small shopping cart full of groceries. “I really hope this stuff lasts us a week because I barely have enough left to buy us lunch at McDonalds,” she complained after climbing back into the passenger seat.

  “We’ll figure it out if we need to get more,” Coop answered, his face stony as he started the car.

  Ro texted one more message to Kamika, saying she didn’t have good cell reception where she was going, but that she’d hopefully be in touch soon. Coop pointedly looked at her phone, at which point she sighed and powered it down.

  “Sorry to cut the sexting with your boyfriend short,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have one.”

  “Didn’t look that way from the flowers I found at your place last night.”

  Ro grimaced. “Please tell me you chucked them in the garbage.”

  “You got something against flowers?”

  “No. I like them just fine. It’s the guy who sent them I don’t much care for. Anyway, can we change the subject to something less vomit inducing?”

  Coop made a placating gesture with his hands, though a smirk lingered on his face.

  Back on the interstate, Ro stared at the passing trees, bored and annoyed. “So I get that you want revenge for your sister, but your loyalty to Dean, it seems there’s more to it than some bodyguard and his employer.”

  “We already went over that on the drive down. I told you, we’re not a couple.”

  “No, I don’t mean like that. It’s like you guys are ... friends.”

  “We were in rehab together,” he answered after a beat. “After I got out of the service, things were rough. I found out my girl had been cheating on me and was pregnant with some other guy’s kid. Messed me up. My brother, he’d been using for a while and ... well, I got into it and got even more messed up. When he OD’d, I decided I was done, so I got clean, met Dean during group. We hit it off. Then when we got out, I needed a job and he hired me, no questions asked.”

  Ro considered this and found herself, for a change, without anything snarky to say. “That’s a nice story.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. He can be a serious douchebag, but he ain’t all bad. And lucky for you, he’s a smart douchebag, so if there’s any hope at getting your dad better, he’ll find a way.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Dean was having a hard time concentrating. He’d hoped diving into his work would give him some focus. With Coop babysitting Ro and her father resting comfortably, it was the first real chance he’d had to do a full side-by-side analysis of the blood samples at his disposal. Three in all – his, of course; the hunter’s; and Coop’s as an untainted human sample for control purposes.

  He hadn’t expected any immediate breakthroughs. That would be stupid. He knew most progress was made after years of testing and study, usually with a full team of scientists working in tandem. However, he was short on both accounts – time and help. There was no lying to himself. He was hoping for a lucky break. He’d studied his own blood thoroughly, as well as any effects the addition of Wolfsbane had on it. Though he was certain the chances of spotting an obvious cure were about nil, he’d been inwardly hoping for some major difference in hunter blood, something that would jump out at him and be so stupidly evident that he’d want to smack himself for not thinking of it.

  Yeah, hope was a fool’s errand at best.

  However, he was finding it near impossible to concentrate for even the barest of cursory exams.

  It was getting close to the full moon and he was well-aware of how that affected him. It made him antsy, irritable, and more than likely to test how far he could push Coop’s patience before getting decked. As the days wore on, it would only get worse until he felt like his skin was practically crawling off him.

  The thing was, he’d been prepared for that, popping four tabs of Focalal, a powerful ADD medication developed by his father’s company some years back. It was normally prescription only, but being heir to the company’s leadership definitely had its perks.

  With the wolf came a massive tolerance for drugs of all kinds, especially the fun ones, but he’d found that doubling the normal safe dosage of Focalal usually gave him brief periods of focus in the days before the change.

  Except that today it seemed to be doing shit-all. Was he developing a tolerance for the drug? Somehow he didn’t think so, especially since his thoughts seemed to keep turning back to the red-haired hunter. He certainly seemed to have no trouble focusing his mind on her.

  It made no sense. Sure, she was attractive, but he’d had better in his day. Being young, well-off, and good looking was a surefire way to have a choice of one night stands. To say he’d had his fair share of nines and tens wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

  He couldn’t even pretend she was his type. He liked them bubbly and fun. Ro acted like she had a ten foot spiked plank shoved up her ass half the time. This was a chick with enough chips on her shoulder to fill a Vegas casino.

  There was also the fact that she apparently had no qualms whatsoever about cold-blooded murder. Though he’d tried not to let it show, her comment about killing at least one wolf and not caring who it was had chilled him to the bone. Yeah, he definitely preferred his ladies a bit less on the psychopathic side. He had his fair share of crazy exes, but nothing compared to her.

  He briefly considered whether he should have turned elsewhere. He now knew there was at least one other hunter in the city. When Coop had packed up Ro’s apartment, he said he’d found flowers at her doorstep, red roses of all things. Looking forward to celebrating our next hunt, the attached card had said. He considered it a safe assumption that her admirer, some guy named Kane, hadn’t been talking about an evening spent jacklighting for deer.

  Gah! What a stupid name. Sounds like some jock douchebag. Whatever the case, though, he obviously had partnered with Ro at least once before.

  Dean realized this other hunter was likely to be no less dangerous or hostile than she was, but at least he was a guy and guys were sometimes much easier to reason with than the opposite sex. Dean had experienced more than enough bad breakups to realize that much.

  Still, something about Ro was different, special. She had caused the wolf to recede, for him to remember. It was her eyes that had especially haunted him. The way she’d looked when he’d had her helpless – the desperation, the fear, but all mixed with a sense of relief, as if she were almost glad that he’d beaten her.

  Her vulnerability had reached out to him, deep within the wolf, and dragged him to the surface. In that instant, he’d gotten the sense that she was hurting every bit as much as him, perhaps more so.

  Then again, the only one who’d been physically hurting ever since he’d confronted her in the alley had been him.

  But there was still no denying the effect she’d had on the wolf.

  He shook his head and began preparing the samples for protein sequencing. The wolf. That had to be it. His mom had owned a Pomeranian when he was young. The dog had absolutely hated him, but couldn’t get enough of his mother or
her circle of lady friends.

  Dogs were like that. Sometimes they just decided they liked someone for no rhyme or reason. Maybe his wolf was no different. Perhaps she reminded him of someone who’d once fed him a Milk Bone in a previous life or something.

  Yeah, that had to be it.

  There was no other reason for it. She was so far off his personal mark he could barely imagine them being friends, much less anything more.

  Although something more wouldn’t necessarily be a torturous thing, he considered. For a brief moment, images flashed through his mind: her pinned beneath him, nails raking furrows across his back, his hands plunged into her fiery red hair while his mouth worked on other parts of her flawless skin.

  He wondered if that other hunter and she had ever ... and was surprised to find a knot of jealousy worming its way through his gut, one that brought with it images of him using his teeth on the male as well, but in a much less gentle manner.

  That thought snapped him out of it. Teeth ... the wolf. He had less than a week before it would be coming out to play again. He needed to get his ass focused, get as much done as he could, then double check to make sure there was no chance of escape once the change took over.

  He glanced down at his hands, a test tube in each. But which one was which?

  Goddamnit!

  While he’d been indulging in his idiotic fantasy, he’d stupidly not been paying attention to which of the samples he’d grabbed. And, of course, he hadn’t bothered to label them.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  It was something his father would have admonished him for as a grade school student in chemistry class, much less as an adult with an advanced degree.

  Now he’d need to start all over again.

  Dean put the samples down and walked over to the desk which held his meds. He opened the drawer, grabbed the bottle, and shook out two more pills before dry swallowing them.