Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  Confusion caused pressure to build up between my eyes, and I rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the tension.

  The smell of tea brewing tickled my nose, and my stomach growled in protest. I hadn’t eaten in hours. I’d forgotten to fix something protein-rich the previous night, and now I was feeling the wrath of such a rookie mistake. I headed for the small bathroom adjoining the room and was relieved to find that the ivy hadn’t yet spread beyond the bedroom.

  Flicking on the shower, I stripped quickly and stepped beneath the scalding spray. It rained down on my skin, washing away the grime of yesterday’s failures and last night’s unexpected camping experience. I stayed beneath the water until my stomach couldn’t handle the hunger anymore and started growling loud enough for me to hear over the thumping rhythm of the water.

  After switching off the water, I wrapped my towel around my body and headed back into the bedroom, my hair hanging loose around my shoulders and dripping water everywhere. Picking through the ivy that covered every surface, I managed to pry the wardrobe door open just enough to drag a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt free.

  Something tickled at my feet, and I glanced down to find the ivy creeping closer to my legs. I moved back against the wardrobe, jolting as the ivy coating the walls suddenly latched onto my damp skin, the delicate tendrils caressing me. I realised then that they weren’t really after me; they wanted the water droplets dotting my skin.

  Fascinated, I held my breath as one particularly large droplet rolled down my arm only to be absorbed into the tiny suckers of the ivy waiting for it.

  A high-pitched, tinkling laugh echoed through the leaves as I carefully untangled my hair from the more overzealous branches.

  Just what the hell was going on? It was utterly beyond me; never in all my time as a banshee had I seen anything like it, and I’d certainly never heard of the fae coming back from the dead. None of it was possible, and yet I was standing in the middle of it. I’d thought I was hallucinating when Clary appeared to me, but I had no other explanation for it.

  After dressing as quickly as the ivy would allow, I tugged open the door to find the ginger terrorist sitting directly outside the room. She darted straight into the room, and I heard a rustling of leaves and a loud hiss as she became acquainted with the new decor.

  I turned to find her backed into a corner as a vine of ivy wrapped itself around her tail.

  The rustling of the leaves became more insistent, and I moved to grab the kitten only for her to be tugged out of reach. The kitten yowled, and I followed the plants as they moved to keep her just out of my reach.

  “Just give her back,” I said.

  The leaves fell silent, and the kitten hissed and growled in the ivy’s grip. Treading carefully, I grabbed the kitten and felt a moment of resistance before the vines gave up their hold and the kitten dropped into my arms.

  She began to purr, the sound reverberating up through her tiny body as she dug her razor-sharp claws into my chest with enough force to draw blood. I looked down into her eyes, and she stared back at me with a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression in her green gaze.

  “I swear, sometimes you cause havoc just for the hell of it,” I said to her.

  She meowed, half-closing her eyes and making biscuits against my skin.

  “Do you like causing havoc?” I asked.

  She ignored me and purred louder, the biscuits becoming more insistent as I cradled her against my body and headed for the door.

  I made it as far as the kitchen before the smell of toasted muffins assailed my nose and my mouth began to water. Samira had her back to me and was dancing around the kitchen to some inane pop song that gave even my jaded feet the urge to shuffle to the beat. The words, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired—something about falling in love and the beat of a heart repeating over and over.

  “I’ve chosen a name,” I said, and Samira let out a small squeak of surprise before spinning around to face me.

  “A name for…” She cut off as soon as she saw the kitten in my arms. “You went with Fuzzikins, didn’t you? I knew you’d come around to the idea.” I grinned and shook my head before setting the kitten down on the edge of the couch.

  “Nope, definitely not Fuzzikins. We’re calling her Havoc.”

  The kitten instantly meowed and gently head-butted the side of my thigh before raising a delicate ginger paw and swatting at my hand.

  “See? She approves,” I said with a grin.

  Samira narrowed her eyes and peered at the kitten. “I find it hard to believe that she would accept something so”—she fanned the air as though the right word hovered there—“uncatlike,” she finally settled on.

  “Really? That’s what you’re going with?” My grin widened. “I thought you’d have a better argument for why we shouldn’t name her that, but as you don’t”—I paused for dramatic effect—“Havoc it is.”

  The kitten meowed again and hopped down from the edge of the couch before trotting toward the door. A loud knock came a moment later, and Havoc began to sharpen her needle-like claws on the door frame.

  Visitors were basically unheard of, and I could count the number of creatures who knew my address on one hand—and one of them was already inside the apartment. Tugging a small silver blade from the back of my jeans, I waved Samira back into the kitchen and slowly approached the door.

  I heard nothing but silence on the other side, and I suddenly regretted not making sure the replacement door had a peephole.

  “Who is it?” I called, my words dropping into the silence that surrounded me.

  “Byron Rivera.” The moment I heard his voice, my shoulders dropped as the tension slowly leeched out of me.

  Sliding the blade back into its hiding place, I popped the locks and let the door swing open. He stood with his shoulder propped against the door frame and his hands pushed casually into the pockets of his jeans. His dark eyes raked over my body and finally came to rest on my face; the blatant desire reflected in them caught me by surprise, and things tightened low in my belly. The urge to reach out and brush the silvery lock of hair from his eyes was almost overwhelming, and I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from moving of their own volition.

  “You’re healed?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Looks that way,” I said. “How did you find this place?” I deliberately left out the bit about cloaking spells and glamour because I wanted an honest answer.

  He grinned at me, and I suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase ‘a wolfish grin.’ He pushed away from the door frame and stepped toward me, but I held my ground, refusing to budge.

  This was my territory—no way was I going to give ground to a wolf. Of course, holding my ground put him mere inches from me, allowing the warmth radiating from his skin to soak through the thin T-shirt I was wearing, sending a thrill of desire racing through me.

  “I followed your scent,” he said, drawing in a deep breath to emphasise his point. The movement caused his muscular chest to expand and close the distance between us so that he was pressed against me in the doorway… almost as though I had planned the whole thing. Nope. The thought hardly even occurred to me.

  “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted,” I said, fighting to keep my pulse from spiking at his proximity. What the hell was wrong with me? I was a harbinger—we fed on sorrow and grief, and drew our power from Death itself, definitely not from attraction. Yet here I was, behaving like a lovelorn fool.

  “Definitely flattered,” he said, leaning down toward me.

  Havoc chose that exact moment to meow loud enough to wake the dead. She sped past me in a blur of marmalade fur and nails as she latched onto Byron’s leg through his jeans, climbing him as though he was simply another piece of furniture.

  He growled, the sound rumbling deep in his body, and I saw a slight flinching around his eyes as Havoc scampered out of his reach, moving to the more sensitive inside curve of his leg. She flattened her
ears and hissed as he caught her and slowly untangled her nails from his body, but the moment he lifted her to his chest and stroked beneath her chin she began to purr.

  Byron’s gaze met mine, the heat in his eyes unmistakable, but the moment was well and truly broken. I was suddenly grateful for the tiny ball of trouble currently cradled in the alpha wolf’s large grip.

  “Not exactly the way to a woman’s heart,” I said.

  “What isn’t?” he asked.

  “Telling her that you followed her home on the strength of her smell.” I kept my tone dry and scathing.

  Byron studied me for a moment before his face erupted into a wide smile once more. “I guess you’re right, but in my defence it has been a very long time since I met a woman capable of turning me into a blathering idiot who makes mistakes like an untested youth.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he raised his face and sniffed the air.

  “Breakfast,” he said, passing the kitten to me before moving past me into the apartment.

  “Come in, make yourself at home,” I muttered to myself as he disappeared around the corner and into the kitchen.

  The sound of Samira’s excited voice greeted my ears as I slowly closed the door and put Havoc down beside me. She sat next to me, and I bent down to scratch between her ears.

  “Thanks for interrupting,” I said as she once more began to purr. “Shall we see if the wolf has left us anything to eat?” Then I shook my head. I was talking to the cat as though she could understand me. Clearly, I was losing my mind, but talking to the cat was definitely the least of my worries. Developing feelings for the wolf was way worse. Thinking about him in the kitchen eating breakfast sent warmth spreading through me, which was more than a little alarming.

  Straightening up, I squared my shoulders and stared down at the kitten. “If I get in over my head again, feel free to claw the hell out of me.” Havoc didn’t answer, but she tilted her head to one side as though listening intently to everything I was saying. “I’m relying on you.”

  I started down the hall toward the kitchen, and Havoc trotted alongside me. Putting my trust in a tiny ball of marmalade fluff… I was definitely losing my mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Byron demolished the last of the toasted muffins, and between one heartbeat and the next the bacon Samira had cooked vanished from the plate in the centre of the table.

  “Come on,” I said, “toasted muffins, fine, but nobody messes with my bacon.” I held my hand out toward him and he sighed, his mouth so stuffed with muffin that he couldn’t answer without dropping crumbs. He passed the last three thin strips of crispy bacon back over the table to me, and I dropped them onto my plate before picking up my cup of tea.

  Byron eyed the bacon and then quickly washed down the muffin with the coffee Samira had brewed for him.

  “You’re just going to let them sit there?” he asked, and the forlorn look in his eyes caused me to smirk and shrug a response.

  “Maybe.”

  “She won’t,” Samira said, returning to the table with another heap of crispy bacon. “I made more, so you two don’t have to be such children.” She piled the extra pieces onto the plate between us, but she may as well have poured them straight into the wolf’s mouth. I was pretty sure I didn’t even see him take a breath between pieces before they disappeared. Apparently wolves had an appetite as large as any fae I’d ever met.

  Their bottomless stomachs were probably connected to the use of magic. The more power I burned, the more protein I needed to feed the machine that was my body. I’d only once chosen to neglect my need for sustenance, and the repercussions had been so severe that I’d never willingly neglected it again.

  I closed my eyes against the sudden onslaught of images that paraded through my mind. The memory of flesh between my teeth instantly killed my appetite, and I pushed up from the table suddenly. The cutlery rattled, and Byron’s gaze weighed on me. His body was perfectly still, the kind of stillness that could only be achieved by a true predator.

  “What’s wrong?” Samira asked, but I darted from the kitchen before she could question me further. I paused in the living room and stared down at the pattern that swirled around the hardwood floor. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen in my lifetime, and that was saying something. But Clary’s ability to turn the mundane into the extraordinary was a gift all her own.

  The urge to go to the Between washed over me, and the smell of blossoms once again coated the air.

  Byron’s hand on my elbow made me jump, and I turned to find him so close I could see the stubble on his jaw.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing, I just needed some space, time to think…” How much could I trust him? I’d shown Samira the Between almost straight away, instinctively trusting her. But despite wanting to do the same with Byron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that trusting him would be far too risky. At the end of the day, he was a wolf who would be loyal to his pack no matter what, even if he claimed they weren’t really his pack to begin with.

  “Can you hang here for a little bit, keep Samira company?” I asked.

  “Where are you going?”

  “There’s something I need to do. Nothing to do with the case,” I hastened to add as he eyed me suspiciously. “Banshee stuff that I need to do alone.”

  He searched my face, and whatever he saw there caused him to relax, the tension slowly ebbing from his body as he released my arm.

  “Yeah…Actually, would you mind if I caught a nap?” The sudden vulnerability in his voice caught me by surprise again.

  “Of course, couch is yours.” I gestured to the brown, lumpy thing that I’d once rescued from a skip.

  He grinned at me, and I could see the weariness in his eyes. What was keeping him up at night and so exhausted that he would feel relaxed enough around a fae like me to take a nap? Was it the case, or did he have someone else on his mind?

  I discarded the thought as soon as it popped into my mind. If there was someone else, that was really none of my business. What he did in his spare time was up to him. Of course, if it was the wolf-bitch from the other night… The clothes I’d been wearing then were going to find their way to a bin as soon as possible; sex pheromones were impossible to wash out, and I really didn’t fancy working in the city while smelling like a bitch in heat. I’d draw every werewolf in a ten-mile vicinity, and that was the kind of trouble I could do without.

  “Darcey,” he said gently, his use of my name drawing me out of my thoughts.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for this…for all of it.” Something in the way he looked at me showed his sincerity. I fought to keep my reactions under control; the combination of his proximity, vulnerability, and raw honesty was intoxicating. It would be way too easy to simply fall into his arms and give in to the feelings he had awakened within me.

  “Don’t mention it. The cost of my kindness is usually reflected in the bill.” I knew the words were a mistake the moment they left my mouth. He unnerved me, and I made stupid mistakes in an attempt to avoid falling into the trap I couldn’t help but think he was laying out for me. Of course, if I was wrong about it and the animal magnetism I felt for him was the same thing he was feeling for me…Well, I was being more than stupid, not to mention unnecessarily cruel to both of us.

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s hope I won’t just be paying for your kindness.”

  He matched my cruelty with a barb of his own, but I smiled at him and nodded.

  “Samira,” I called out. She popped her head around the door as soon as her name left my lips, and I knew she had to be listening to our exchange from the kitchen door. “I’m heading out,” I said. “Byron is hanging around for a while… And you know where Mazik is if there’s any trouble.”

  She nodded, and I knew from her serious expression that the moment we were alone she was going to give me an earful.

  I didn’t wait for an answer; instead; I darted for the window
and, beyond it, the fire escape. Gathering my legs beneath me, I hopped out through the open window and down the levels of the iron fire escape. It hurt to be in such close proximity to iron again, but it was a valuable deterrent for other fae who happened upon the building and could see through the glamour I’d created to hide it.

  Once I reached the sidewalk, I darted further into the side alley. My feet carried me toward the Between, its energy beating against my skin like the fluttering of a bird’s wings. And the moment I stepped through the barrier, the tension I’d been carrying melted away, letting me suck in a deep breath as I cleared my mind.

  As much as I’d made a life for myself in the human realm, the Between would always be my home. A place where I could be myself. A place where I truly belonged.

  Chapter Twelve

  Crossing the soft grass, I came upon the tree that had grown out of the ground the last time I’d been in the Between. Clary’s tree—her essence flowed inside the trunk that was growing taller and stronger with every day that passed. I couldn’t even wrap my arms around its diameter anymore, and the fresh leaves that were beginning to unfurl on the branches made me smile.

  Beyond the tree, I could see the giant weeping cherry blossom that sat in the centre of the Between. The scent of its blossoms lifted my spirits and drew me toward it.

  Finding a spot amongst the roots, I settled in, crossing my legs beneath me and closing my eyes. It was always so much easier to think here—no interruptions, nothing but the quiet, calming power and knowledge of my kind. Digging my fingers into the earth, I felt the power of the others who were buried here pulse beneath me in greeting.

  As far as I knew, I was the last true blood of my kind. There were hybrids, and despite being rare they were still more plentiful than me. But here, among the dead, I wasn’t alone. Drawing a deep breath, I let the energy in the ground flow through me, and I felt those who were nearing the end of their time.

  A true banshee with full powers didn’t need to reconnect with those who had gone before. Before, I simply would have been able to sense all those whose time was drawing short, but caging Mannan had robbed me of that ability. I needed proximity now, or at the very least I needed to already know the identity of the one destined to cross over. I had tied myself to the retirement home for that exact reason. Well, that and because there was something special about Dolores that kept drawing me to her.