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

by Rick Gualtieri

  “He’s taking care of some business uptown,” he answered vaguely. “How’s your dad?”

  “Getting stronger by the day.”

  “I guess that’s good.” She could tell from his face, though, that he considered her father’s health a dubious proposition at best.

  “It is, for the most part. Stubborn as a mule when it comes to his conditioning exercises, but he does them.”

  “Must run in the family.”

  “Exercise?”

  “Stubbornness.”

  She wanted to smile. The banter seemed so familiar, but she refrained, turning serious. “Why did you want to meet? I mean, it’s been weeks, so I figure this has to be about something other than chit chat.”

  He seemed to hesitate before finally stating, “It’s Los Colmillos. They’re planning a big rave on the night of the full moon. Recruit and Feast, Strike is calling it. After last month, he wants to bulk up his numbers, develop some extra security. He’s sent word to a lot of known partiers, the type of crowd I used to hang with before I got bit. My guess is he’s gonna do to them what he did to me – put them on a short leash so he can get their cash.”

  She nodded grimly, noting what remained unspoken. What had happened to his family was likely to be repeated. That was enough to convince her. Though she didn’t have much of a social life to speak of, this was one party she wouldn’t mind crashing. “Where’s it supposed to be?”

  When he provided the address, she turned away from him, her mind working overtime. It wasn’t the location of the club she’d scouted during the last full moon, the one where Strike supposedly ran things. It was further south and closer to the waterfront. Trying to avoid the park, she reasoned with a bit of pride, surmising that she was the cause for the change in venue.

  Ro realized she hadn’t responded when she looked up and found Dean staring at her expectantly. “Are you supposed to be there, too?” she asked.

  “It’s not mandatory, if that’s what you’re asking. I made it clear to Strike that I wasn’t one of his rabid dogs.”

  “I’m guessing he didn’t like that.”

  “Not one bit, but since he’s about bled me dry, so to speak, he’s been way less up my ass about being a good little pack member.”

  “Good. Then I won’t have to watch my aim once I’m there.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on going by yourself. I know you’re good, but against all of them?”

  She let out a mirthless laugh. “Relax. This is way bigger than just me. We could take down the entire fucking pack if this pans out. We can go and talk to the Guild, organize a raid, put that Los Colmillos pack down for good.”

  “Whoa, I’m not going anywhere near the Guild,” he protested. “That’d be suicide.”

  “I meant my dad and me.”

  After a moment, Dean appeared to visibly relax. “Sorry. Should have guessed that. What are you going to tell them? The Guild, I mean.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll figure out something. Needless to say, you’ll have to remain my anonymous source.” She looked up at him and grinned. “Pity. If this works out, you’d probably deserve a medal in their eyes.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not the type of metal they’d want to give me.” He raised his hand to his head and made a shooting gesture.

  “Probably true.”

  Dean paused again for a few seconds then said, “So ... your dad.”

  “What about him?”

  “Has he mentioned coming after me?”

  She held up a hand. “More often than I’d like. But I kept my promise. I haven’t told him anything about you or where you’re staying.”

  “Small comfort if he’s anywhere as good as you are.”

  Ro considered this. He was right to be worried. But she’d made him a promise and she meant to keep it. “Trust me. This rave info is just the thing we both need. He’ll be too busy helping me plan this raid to worry about one wolf from the Upper West Side. If all goes well, we’ll be so flush in wolf corpses that the paperwork alone will keep us busy for months.”

  She could tell he still wasn’t convinced, so she put a hand on his arm in what was intended to be a comforting gesture.

  He glanced at her sharply, his eyes meeting hers before darkening considerably. She almost expected them to turn red and for him to bare his teeth, but neither happened. Instead, he pulled his arm away as if burned. She was surprised to actually feel hurt by this.

  “Well, I’d better get going or Coop’ll think you put a silver bullet in my heart,” he said with a nervous chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes.

  She quickly covered up her disappointment. “Thanks for the intel. I mean it. If we can pull this off, it’ll change everything for you. You know that, right?”

  He shrugged noncommittally. “I’m not going to breathe easy until I find that cure.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Making progress, but nothing I’d bet my life on yet.”

  “You’ll find it,” she said with complete conviction. “I ... believe in you.”

  Again, there came an awkward silence as they stared into each other’s eyes, until finally he said, “Good luck next week. Stay safe, Ro.”

  “You too. Tell Coop I said hi.”

  He nodded, gave her one final long look, then turned to leave the alley.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Where have you been?” Coop asked when Dean walked in the door of the dilapidated mansion some hours later. “That was a hell of a coffee run. What, did you stop to grow the beans yourself?”

  Dean sighed, readying himself for whatever was coming. He knew his friend well enough to suspect he wasn’t going to get out of this with a simple nod and wave. “I ... had to meet with someone.”

  “Someone?” Coop replied, sounding entirely unconvinced. “And does this someone have a name?”

  “Well...”

  “Perhaps red, wavy hair, a tight ass, and a penchant for killing werewolves?”

  “Hey!” Dean snapped.

  “Which part got you, the killing werewolves bit or the comment about her ass?”

  Dean inwardly cursed. Some days he almost wished Coop wasn’t as good of a friend, or at least not good enough to read him like a fucking book. “It’s not like that.”

  Coop sat down in a nearby easy chair and folded his hands on his lap. “Tell me how it is, then.”

  “That party Strike’s hosting, the one I told you about.”

  “The killer shindig?”

  “Emphasis on the killer part. I wanted to tell her about it. Maybe she can get some friends together and turn it into a shooting gallery instead.”

  “Can’t say I would shed too many tears if that happened,” Coop replied. “I only wish I could join them.”

  “Too risky.”

  “I’m not stupid, man. I know that. I’m just saying I wouldn’t say no to putting a bullet in that bastard’s brainpan myself. But dead is dead in my book. If someone else does it, I’m entirely cool with that. I can piss on his grave regardless.”

  Dean nodded and started to walk past. Though he was starting to feel the moon’s pull, it wasn’t too bad yet. He figured he should get some work done while he was still able to concentrate.

  Coop called after him, stopping him in his tracks. “By the way, is there a particular reason you couldn’t just text her this information?”

  Dean knew he should keep walking, ignore his friend and get back to work, but he took the bait nevertheless. “I needed to make sure she got the message.”

  “Needed?”

  “Wanted.”

  “I think you were right the first time.” Dean didn’t need to turn to know that Coop was wearing a grin as he spoke. “But I repeat, why did you need to go there? I mean, last I checked, she hasn’t blocked our number.”

  “I...”

  “And her old man has gotta be back on his feet by now. Tough old bastard like that
isn’t going to stay in bed for long. You were taking a hell of a risk.”

  “I know, but if this pans out and they take Los Colmillos down, then it’s worth it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mean she’s worth it?”

  Dean didn’t answer. He knew there was nothing he could say that would get his friend off his case about this. The asshole had an infuriating way of twisting his words and throwing them back in his face.

  Refusing to take the bait, he continued down to the basement. Once there, he stood in his lab for quite some time, staring at his workspace but not accomplishing anything ... his brief encounter with Ro playing out over and over in his mind.

  Finally, because he knew he wasn’t going to get anything accomplished until he stopped fighting himself, he said in a small voice, barely a whisper, “She is worth it.”

  He reached for his bottle of Focalal and dumped several pills into his hand. He had a feeling he was going to need them.

  26

  Ro unlocked the door and let herself into the apartment where she found her father sharpening his knives. While she was unpacking the groceries she’d bought, he called to her.

  “You were gone awhile. Where’d you go shopping? China?”

  “I ran into an old friend,” she stated.

  “Old friend, eh?”

  She didn’t want to outright lie to her father, but at the same time felt the need to continue protecting Dean. “Fine. I was working a lead, trying to get the scoop on that wolf pack out of Central Park. They call themselves Los Colmillos.”

  “Real fucking scary,” he groused with a sound of disgust. “I’ll try not to wet myself.”

  Ro stepped back into the living room and smiled. “You might have to try extra hard after you hear what I have to tell you.” She explained to him about the Feast and Recruit, making sure to not mention Dean’s name. By the time she was finished, she had his undivided attention.

  He put down his whetstone and stared at her hard. “So, you’re telling me that these bastards are gonna hold some kind of goddamned werewolf disco?”

  “More a rave,” Ro corrected. “But same general idea.”

  “I don’t care what the hell they call it. It doesn’t make sense to me. You bloodied their nose, but it’s not like you wiped out half their numbers.”

  “I know that, but this is the first time these assholes have gotten a bloody nose at all. Up until now, they’ve somehow been a couple of steps ahead of us all. These wolves have been super careful. But now I bet they’re wondering if they haven’t been careful enough and I think that has them scared.”

  “So they’re planning on holding a big event to dine on the local cuisine?”

  “That and a recruitment drive all in one. They’re planning on hitting up some of the best from New York’s social scene.”

  “Bunch of rich assholes,” her father muttered. “Doubt society will miss them.” He thoughtfully rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “You’re not planning on taking a whole pack of whelps by yourself, are you?”

  Ro leaned against the wall. “Guild canon states duty before ego. C’mon, Dad. Still testing me after all this time?”

  “Just making sure. Never bad to brush up on the basics.”

  She nodded. “I wanted your opinion first, but I think we should contact the Guild and get a group of party crashers together.”

  “You sure you can trust your source?”

  “I have no reason not to. I bagged those two wolves last month based on the info he gave me. It was solid.” When her father didn’t answer, she added, “This is our chance to take down this entire pack in one fell swoop. We’re talking putting down at least a dozen of these murdering bastards. Maybe more.”

  Ro inwardly smiled as he asked for a moment to think it over. She knew it was an act, her dad just being cantankerous. He was definitely interested. Who among their number wouldn’t be? It was the lycanthrope equivalent of the motherlode. She’d been to enough Guild meetings to know that big scores like this weren’t forgotten easily. Those who participated in successful raids of this size were hailed as legends for years to come. Even the humblest of their number wouldn’t turn down that opportunity.

  “So, you gonna tell me where you got this info?”

  Ro folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not thirteen, Dad. I have my sources and I have my own ways of making them talk.”

  Her dad locked eyes with her and she practically dared him to grill her more, but she’d purposely worded it the way she did. Her father might be a hunter and one of the meanest sons of bitches walking the planet, but he was still a dad, and there were some things dads simply didn’t want to know about their little baby girls.

  “I need you to tell me...” Or maybe not. Ro’s eyes opened in surprise. “Is that whelp going to be there?”

  She almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then realized her father’s question was even more loaded than one about her sex life. Still, she’d been anticipating this.

  “I told you. D ... he’s not our enemy.” In the weeks since, she’d learned to be careful about saying Dean’s name. That level of familiarity seemed to set her father off even more than usual.

  “Didn’t ask that,” he replied gruffly. “I asked if he was going to be there.”

  After a beat, she replied, “I don’t know. My source didn’t give me a guest list. But he’s part of this pack and, from what I hear, it’s supposed to be all hands on deck.” So much for not lying to him.

  “Okay then. Next question.” His eyes bored hard into hers. “If he is, can you do it?”

  She matched him stare for stare. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that. We both know my kill record stacks up pretty well compared to yours this last year.”

  “Didn’t ask that either. I asked about him. Can you do it?”

  A battle of wills ensued, one that she doubted she’d win. However, she wasn’t certain she wanted to. After several moments, she looked away. “Yes. If he’s there, I can pull the trigger.” If he’s there, which he won’t be.

  “That’s all I wanted to hear.” John sat down, put away his knives, and began cleaning his gun. “I think you were right about needing to bring the Guild in.”

  “Want me to start making calls?”

  “I got this one,” he replied. “Got some buddies who owe me a few favors. Besides, been too long since I’ve given them a call. It gives me a chance to catch up, let them know I ain’t dead yet.”

  Ro nodded, then turned away. So far so good. She’d been afraid of crumbling under her father’s gaze but had held her ground. Now all that needed to be done was figure out the logistics of getting a bunch of loose cannon hunters organized in time for the hunt.

  If this all went as planned, it would be a big win for them. Might even be enough for New York City to be declared purged and for them to be assigned elsewhere.

  Elsewhere ... far away from Dean.

  He would be safe from her father, safe to work on his cure in peace.

  Still, she couldn’t help but feel a knot of worry at the base of her spine, but she tried to dismiss it. With the full moon less than a week away, she knew her senses were heightened, and that probably meant her paranoia was, too.

  That had to be it.

  He won’t be there, she told herself again. He’d better not be.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  John walked into the precinct after having called ahead and been assured Detective MacGregor was in. He found Kane sitting at his desk, scowling at his computer screen as if it were a whelp who’d just gutted his family in front of him.

  “Detective, John Sinclair here to see you. Said he had an appointment.”

  Kane gave a curt nod to the clerk and wordlessly gestured to the chair next to his desk. John sat, feeling distinctly uneasy at the station. He was used to being in control, to being the one in charge, but he was acutely aware of his disadvantage now. He needed Kane’s help, though, and had a feel
ing that would come at a price.

  Kane pressed a few keys on his computer, then the screen went blank. When he finally turned to John, his expression was easy, much more congenial. He held out a hand which the older man shook, matching him grip for grip. “Good to see you up and about, John. I see you’ve been recovering well.”

  “That I have.” He couldn’t show weakness. The hierarchy within the Guild wasn’t so different from a wolf pack. Any sign of weakness and you were knocked down, another alpha taking over. “In fact, been planning on joining the hunt next week.”

  “That so?”

  “Ro says she’s got some news on a pack in the park, but I think it’s a load of horse shit. Untrustworthy source.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure it came from a goddamned whelp.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Kane ushered the old man into one of the interrogation rooms for privacy. He couldn’t have him ranting about werewolf hunting in the middle of the police station. “She mentioned something to me about a pack out of Central Park. How do you know it’s BS?”

  John gave him a story that seemed to prove what he’d already suspected – that what Ro had told him that day in the diner was nothing more than a pile of crap.

  Still, it was best not to take anything at face value. The old man looked fit enough, pretty good for someone who’d reportedly been at death’s door three weeks ago. But this story about them living with a wolf, like they were some sort of fucked up Brady Bunch – Kane wondered if the old man had completely lost his mind.

  As John relayed the story of being bit, then held hostage by a wolf and his friend, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place in Kane’s mind: Ro’s strange disappearance, her behavior after her return, the way she’d been evading him.

  Following his talk with her at the diner, he’d spent weeks searching for any trace of Cooper Maddox. All this time, he’d wondered if she realized she’d been shacked up with a wanted murderer, but now, listening to John, a new theory was forming in his head. Cooper wasn’t the murderer. His rehab friend, Dean Mason, was.

  The attacks against rich yuppies on the west side, somehow combined with burglarizing their homes, the disappearances of key upper class citizens, they all made sense now. Dean Mason hadn’t been just another casualty of the wolves – he was one of them now.