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

by Rick Gualtieri

  After everything she’d gone through the past few weeks, one kill was not going to suffice for this moon.

  Before the first wolf could regain its feet, she slammed the weapon into the base of its skull. Despite the toughness of its skin, the silvered blade sank into it like a hot knife through butter. With a quick twist of the grip, she severed its spinal cord, killing it instantly.

  It hadn’t even had time to whimper.

  Ro pulled out the blade and palmed it, drawing it into the oversized sleeve of the coat. She backed away from the downed wolf and started trembling. Though she knew it was likely that whatever else was out here with her wouldn’t be taken in by the ruse, she had to try. If another wolf was close by and truly in the grip of its beast form, it might not possess the higher brain functions to put two and two together.

  She didn’t think that likely, though. Everything she knew about these Los Colmillos wolves told her they weren’t animals, at least not in their thinking. The first one had been sloppy, overconfident, but there was little chance of another being so reckless in the face of the obvious – that she was still standing while its pack-mate lay dead on the path.

  Still, Ro kept up the illusion. She backed away from the monster, staring at it wide-eyed, a feigned look of horror upon her face as if she was too terrified to even scream.

  Several moments passed when suddenly the hairs on her neck stood up again and she sensed movement from ahead.

  That’s it. Come to mama.

  She’d purposely backed herself up against a rocky outcropping. It served to protect her backside, even if it boxed her in. That was fine, however. She had no intention of running.

  The wolf stepped from the brush on the opposite side of its dead companion. It was huge, considerably larger than the one she’d just dispatched.

  She took a quick look at the dead wolf, taking note of its smaller size and lighter coloring. Probably a female. The one before her now was most definitely a male which, for some reason, made the coming fight even more exciting.

  The beast lowered itself to all fours and approached the downed wolf slowly, its eyes never leaving her. Its stance suggested it was ready to spring into action at any moment. Ro stared back at it wide-eyed, as if in disbelief, but in actuality waiting for it to be in a position where she was unlikely to miss her shot.

  Slowly, she reached down with her free hand and slid it beneath the hem of the coat to where her holster lay.

  Just a little more, you son of a bitch.

  The wolf nudged the other with its nose, as if checking to see if it were merely stunned.

  Good luck with that.

  Even as the male continued to sniff its companion, the dead wolf began to change. The hair retreated from its body. Its stature began to shorten, and its features began to take on a human-like form. Within moments, Ro’s instincts were confirmed as the body of a naked woman lay where the wolf had been a moment earlier.

  The other beast lifted its head and bared its teeth at her.

  “Come on,” she whispered. “Here I am. So tasty and helpless.”

  Rather than charge her, though, the wolf looked around as if considering its options.

  Damnit! “Not fooling you for a second, am I?” she asked aloud. “Fine. The hard way it is.”

  Ro flung the coat off her, revealing her lithe form. In the same movement, she drew her gun. When the dead wolf had shrunk back to human size, it had greatly diminished the cover it provided its companion. She didn’t think she was going to get a clearer shot.

  This wolf proved to be much smarter than its companion, however. It reared up to its full height and kicked out, sending the dead woman flying toward Ro just as she pulled the trigger.

  Ro dove out of the way, her shot missing by a mile. She rolled and came up to her feet just as the wolf lunged for her. There was no hesitation from it as there had been that night with Dean. This one meant to have its pound of flesh.

  That was fine by her. She likewise felt absolutely no sympathy in this fight, either for herself or the creature.

  Only one of them would walk away from this.

  There was no time to aim properly. She pulled the trigger as she sidestepped, catching a hairy elbow in her midsection, hard enough to almost knock the wind out of her.

  She staggered and backpedaled, putting some distance between her and it. Clear shot or not, it was suicide to stay within arm’s reach of a monster like this.

  As she did, she saw the creature stumble into the tree line. It put one of its paws over its thigh and let out a brief whimper. She’d winged it.

  The male wolf turned toward her wide-eyed, the anger in its eyes replaced by a look of pain and, although she couldn’t be certain, she was convinced she saw fear, too.

  It had just enough cover to potentially ruin her shot. She had to finish it off before it could bolt. If it ran, it was unlikely she’d be able to find it again before it could hole up somewhere.

  “So, that other mutt?” she asked, hoping this thing was smart enough to understand her. “She your mate, or just your fuck puppy?”

  Its eyes narrowed and its lips pulled back from its teeth.

  Pride before a fall, motherfucker.

  “Sorry to break it to you, Fido, but I’m pretty sure all dogs don’t go to heaven.”

  The creature snarled and charged her. She’d been right again. Somehow this thing had understood her. It was amazing, almost unbelievable. It went against everything she’d been taught about lycanthropes and most of what she’d experienced. Something about Los Colmillos was different. She wasn’t sure whether to be excited or terrified at the prospect.

  However, she was certain she’d end up dead either way if she didn’t stow away her thoughts and act. Stupid! In trying to distract the creature, she’d also distracted herself.

  Wounded as it was, the wolf was still blindingly fast. She’d underestimated it.

  It was upon her within a heartbeat, possessing nearly every physical advantage over her – strength, speed, and mass. The only prospect in her favor was that its size made it nearly impossible to miss at this range.

  It plowed into Ro just as she pulled the trigger.

  Her feet left the ground, the beast’s momentum carrying them both forward. Ro’s breath was knocked out of her, and she was pretty sure she heard a rib snap, but her finger continued to work the trigger, emptying the magazine into the wolf’s chest, its dense fur and muscle muting the sound of the gun until at last it stumbled and pitched forward.

  The wolf landed atop Ro just as the gun clicked empty. It let out a wheezing gasp and, for a moment, she feared it was still alive, but it turned out to be nothing more than the last breath escaping from its body.

  She’d done it, not only bagged two wolves by herself, but two of those fucking Los Colmillos bastards.

  Now the only thing left to do was wait for it to turn back into a human so she could roll the dead fucker off and make herself scarce before the cops arrived.

  19

  Ro fortunately didn’t have to wait very long. After a few minutes, the wolf finally changed and she found herself being smothered by a dark, muscular man who smelled strongly of blood and B.O. Bracing her hands and feet to push him off, she had a wild sense of déjà vu, since she’d done much the same to Kane when he’d collapsed atop her after their one-off tryst.

  Sure, she’d enjoyed it at the time, but the memory twisted her expression to one of distaste. Shaking the unbidden thoughts from her mind, she set to work on staging the scene. She retrieved her own jacket from the bushes, then discarded the purloined coat near the bodies, hoping to point the finger at a homeless junkie. The hat she kept, but stashed it inside one of her pockets – no point in leaving trace hair evidence at the scene.

  Lastly, she pulled a pack of wet wipes from her jacket pocket and proceeded to clean up as best she could, her senses still on alert for any unusual activity around her. She paused halfway through to ch
eck her tracker app, just in case, and found it clear. It wasn’t quite as good as a second set of eyes watching her back, but in a pinch it would do.

  After scrubbing for as long as she dared, she placed the soiled wipes back in her jacket, pulled on her gloves, and fervently hoped she’d done an adequate job of making herself presentable. She needed to book it out of there before the bodies were discovered by the cops or, worse, by other members of the pack. She had a spare magazine of ammunition on her but knew better than to push her luck. With two wolves already on the ground, there was no chance of fooling any others who happened upon her.

  Rather than do the smart thing and head straight back to the car, she decided to take a detour first, adrenaline and the thrill of the hunt still coursing through her. It wouldn’t be very far, not according to what Dean had told her, and would help sate some of the pull she still felt from the moon.

  Dean had said that many of the killings Los Colmillos were responsible for had occurred in the area around Central Park West. His parents had been only the latest victims, with at least half a dozen other families targeted in that area before them. Furthermore, Dean hadn’t been the only rich boy to be recruited – three other people in their twenties had been reported missing from the affected families. They were either now members of Los Colmillos or lying dead at the bottom of the Hudson.

  According to Dean, the gang operated from a seedy club just outside the swankier areas they liked to prey upon. It was there she found herself heading.

  She would’ve loved nothing more than to put a bullet in their leader, the asshole calling himself Strike who apparently fancied himself some sort of werewolf drug lord. From what Dean had said, though, the dirt bag was more than content to stay in the club during the full moon and cavort with his various bitches while his lackeys roamed the streets. With a grimace, she thought, Lackeys were exactly what I killed tonight while the big dog stayed locked up in his kennel.

  The building occupying the address Dean had provided was dark, the only light coming from some flickering neon illuminating the basement entrance. No one manned the door, but she wasn’t fooled. She could sense them in there.

  Though the pull of the hunt was still strong, she wasn’t stupid enough to try it on her own. She was almost a full block away and yet her senses were almost on fire. That meant a lot of fangs present.

  It would be suicide to try to take them all on single-handedly, at least without something a bit bigger than her lone handgun – a bazooka, maybe. Hmm, something to consider for next month.

  Those musings faded from her mind as her instincts flared up. Something was coming. A wolf returning to the den, perhaps. She could sense its presence, the tickle on the back of her neck strengthening to a full-on burn. It was likely to sense her here, too.

  So it was with the hunt. The same battle, month after month, to determine which one of them, hunter or wolf, was actually the alpha predator.

  She glanced around. The shadowy alleys and entrances, while perfect for concealing evidence of battle, could also hide wolves curious to her presence.

  Realizing the risk of staying was too great, she turned and walked briskly down the street. She didn’t want to be caught in a skirmish here, not with a club full of wolves so close by. By all appearances, the street was deserted, but the tingling burn on her neck indicated otherwise.

  Instinct gradually gave way to rational thought, and she realized coming here without backup was stupid and reckless. Despite her earlier care, she probably still reeked of wolf blood. Any pack member catching wind of her would most certainly want revenge.

  She hurried toward the subway, and as she did so, she pulled out her phone and enabled the tracker app again. Two stationary signals hovered near the far edge of its range, but they faded as she moved farther away. Nothing seemed to be following her, but she resolved to remain sharp and not let curiosity get the better of her.

  The prickling at the back of her neck faded once she descended to the subway platform. Perhaps she’d just been paranoid. After all, the thrill of taking out two wolves on her own had certainly gotten her blood pumping and put her senses into overdrive.

  She wished she’d grilled Dean for more info on Los Colmillos earlier. She could have done a more thorough reconnaissance, carried more ammunition, maybe even contacted the Guild to arrange for a group raid. But she hadn’t, wanting to selfishly take a chunk out of this pack herself before letting others get a crack at them.

  Ro consoled herself with the fact that even though she might not have taken down all of them, she’d whittled their numbers. She’d done what she’d set out to do. Next time, she’d get Strike, if not the whole goddamned pack.

  She heard her father’s voice in her head. “Better to be smart than to be dead. You aren’t running away from the fight. You’re living to fight a battle you can actually win.”

  The memory helped to soothe her ego, as did the knowledge that she’d bagged two Los Colmillos whelps single-handedly. As far as she was concerned, she’d fulfilled her duty tonight.

  When she stepped off the train at the downtown stop, her spirits were considerably lighter. At this rate, she could get back to the mansion, check on her father, and take a nice long shower, all before sunrise.

  But first, she wanted to stop by her apartment.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Ro unlocked her front door with a great sense of relief that Kane had finally stopped leaving flowers on her doorstep. It was annoying and downright embarrassing, plus the wilting bouquets left a mess.

  Before she could push the door open, though, Mrs. Wilson from down the hall stepped around the corner. “Rowan, thank goodness it’s you.”

  “Hey, Mrs. W. What are you doing awake at this hour?”

  “Oh, these old bones bother me on nights like this. Too many aches and pains to sleep well.” She waved a hand as if this was nothing new. “Anyway, heard a noise out in the hall. I thought you was that man again.”

  “What man?” A tingle surged through Ro, though she was pretty sure it wasn’t caused by a wolf.

  “The one’s been leavin’ you flowers. Handsome fella, but somethin’ shifty ‘bout him.”

  Goddamnit, Kane! “Tall guy, blond hair, cleft in his chin?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Well, thanks for keeping an eye on the place for me and letting me know. Did you at least enjoy the flowers he left last time?”

  “I sure did. Smelled pretty and looked nice on my kitchen table. My grandson came by and thought I had myself a secret admirer.” She cackled. “Had him goin’, I did.”

  “Not too far of a stretch. If I were a guy, I’d be leaving you flowers all the time.” She gave the old woman a wink.

  “Pretty young thing like yourself, I bet you get tons of admirers.”

  “None I actually want admiring me.”

  “You just wait. One’ll come along, and when he does, you’ll know it.”

  “Believe me, I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Shame Malcolm’s married. I think you ‘n him’d get along fine. Better ‘n that gold digger he with, dressin’ in them skimpy outfits like she all that.”

  Ro knew that if Mrs. Wilson got on a roll about her granddaughter-in-law, she’d end up talking for the rest of the night. “I’d better get going. I’m meeting some friends.”

  “All right, an old lady knows when she’s done.” She flashed a toothless grin. “Before I forget, that handsome guy, he came by tonight. Saw him in the hall, but he didn’t leave no flowers.” She seemed put out by the lack of extra decoration for her little apartment.

  Ro smiled in an attempt to mask the apprehension in her gut. “Good to know. Thanks again, Mrs. Wilson.”

  She’d briefly considered showering and changing her clothes in the comfort of her own apartment, but now that she knew Kane had been by, she nixed the idea. Instead, she let herself in and began to look around, searching for anything out of place.

&nbs
p; At first glance, all seemed fine. Everything was as she’d left it, but she knew Kane. He wasn’t stupid. It’s not like he would leave her a note saying, I broke into your apartment. Thought you should know. Paranoid though it might be, she decided to take a much closer look, and that’s when she began to notice it. Her apartment was in too perfect of shape. Something was off.

  The dust that had collected on the surfaces over the past several weeks was gone, wiped clean. She doubted Kane had decided her apartment needed a thorough dusting while she was away. No. He definitely hadn’t struck her as the domestic type. The only reason she could figure that he would clean up would be if he’d made a mess.

  She slowed down and took her time, scouring every inch of her place for anything that seemed off, eventually noticing a small smudge of gray that had been missed. He’d made a mess, all right, one that had consisted of an entirely different type of dust.

  Shit. She needed to get back to the mansion.

  20

  John Sinclair heard the growls but they were strange, muted, as if filtered through a radio. His first instinct was to reach for his knife, but his reflexes were dull, his arms barely moving even though his brain screamed at them to act. Then he realized there was a weight upon him. His arms were being restrained by heavy blankets, but why?

  He cracked open an eye to get a bead on his surroundings. Indoors. A large but bland bedroom. A somewhat familiar-looking young man sat in a chair beside him, his eyes glued to one of those infernal smartphones. Damn things were a blight on humankind, the true curse of the young, beholden forever to tiny boxes of metal and plastic that controlled their lives by providing them instant access to everything. Despite the Guild sanctioning such devices, he’d always hunted without a tracker, like a real man.

  He gave an inward scoff as he listened to the sounds coming from the phone, almost like wild animals copulating. Guy must’ve been a fucking weirdo. He paused as he realized the grunts and snuffles sounded familiar ... then came the howl.