Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  “Relax, it’ll all be fine. Go to the basement.” I ushered her toward Noree, who had come to the bottom of the stairs.

  Noree’s face was unreadable, but I knew she was no fan of the Elite. If they discovered what she was, I had no doubt in my mind what they would do to her. Despite the difference in cultures, the Elite considered the kind of power wielded by Noree and a witch as being the same. Where the Elite were concerned, your origins didn’t matter—a witch was still just a witch.

  “But why would they come here?” Samira asked.

  I didn’t have an answer for her, but I had a feeling their visit had something to do with my meeting with Magda. I couldn’t exactly tell her that I had gone to the Elite for information—Samira didn’t understand that sometimes you had to go places you didn’t want to.

  Noree gave me a knowing glance, and I had to wonder just how much she actually knew about my movements. Did she have someone following me? If so, I wanted to meet them, because they were damn good at their job. I’d never once suspected anything, but the knowing look in Noree’s eyes said it all.

  Turning away, I waited for Samira to lock the basement door. The faint buzz of the wards made me feel somewhat better. The Elite were good, but they weren’t getting into the basement unless they had a void. Hell, even if they attempted to burn the place to the ground, they still weren’t getting into that locked room unless I let them.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I turned and headed back through the office to the main door. An unmarked car sat out on the street, but it was empty. Whirling around, I found myself face-to-face with Magda. She seemed smaller than she had while sitting behind her desk.

  “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon,” I said, looking her up and down. She wore a dark blazer and a cream blouse with a neckline tied around her throat in a pussy bow. It screamed expensive silk, as did her wide-leg black trousers. Surprisingly, though, she was wearing shoes that seemed utterly out of place—steel-toe cap boots that made my own tired pair of second-hand combat army boots that I’d already had resoled at least five times look especially shabby. The last time I’d visited my shoemaker, he suggested I just buy a new pair, which was easy for him to say when he wasn’t living hand to mouth. He wasn’t living at the mercy of the whims of the Faerie Court, who usually behaved like unmedicated lunatics and whose demands varied from the mundane to the outright impossible.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you so soon either, banshee, but here we are,” she said.

  “So, what can I do for you?” I asked.

  “You asked about the werewolves and shifters going rogue but wouldn’t reveal your source. What if I told you there was a crime scene downtown where fifteen innocent people had been slaughtered by a rogue?”

  I bit my tongue. What was I supposed to tell her? My job was to protect my clients, and yet I couldn’t keep something like that hidden if wolves were rampaging on the streets.

  “I’d say take me there,” I answered. “Where I can judge for myself.”

  She nodded and gestured to the waiting car, but I shook my head. “I’ve got to make some arrangements.”

  “Your witch is safe from me,” Magda said. “I’m hardly in a position to throw stones, now am I?”

  Samira hadn’t done any magic in front of her, that I was certain of, and yet Magda had known she was a witch. Of course, Byron had also known Samira’s true nature, but I’d put that down to his impeccable nose. Was it possible that the strzyga had senses rivalling a wolf?

  “I still have arrangements to make,” I said, heading for the back of the office.

  I stopped short when my eyes met Byron’s. The amber of his wolf lurked just beneath the surface, and the sorrow I saw there arrested my heart.

  “What is it?” Magda said, coming up behind me.

  Byron raised his fingers to his lips, and I could see blood streaked down the side of his hand.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I just need a second to get past the wards.”

  Byron melted into the darkness of the hallway, and I waited for the almost imperceptible click of the back door as he disappeared through it. Whatever he had come to tell me would have to wait, and him not revealing himself to Magda meant that my association with him would have to remain a secret no matter who was dead.

  Pulling open the door, I met Samira on the stairs, her concerned eyes looking even wider than normal.

  “I’m going with the Elite officer to look at a crime scene,” I said. “It’s connected to my case.” I forced as much meaning into my voice as I could. It took her a few minutes to understand what I was trying to tell her, but she eventually nodded and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

  “She will be safe with me,” Noree said, her voice drifting up from the basement. “You have my word, Darcey.”

  It took a moment for me to register Noree’s promise. The last time I’d asked for her help, I’d been forced to pledge all sorts of things in return. Her offering to help me seemed so unlike her, so wholly out of character, that I had to fight the urge to ask her to repeat herself. But Noree wasn’t someone you asked to repeat herself, and anyway, I had a feeling that her sudden altruism would just up and disappear if I scrutinised it too hard.

  “I’ll swing by later and pick you up,” I said to Samira.

  “No, we will bring her to you.” Noree appeared on the bottom step and looked up at me with a grave expression. I wanted to ask her why she looked so serious, but I was too afraid to do it. “I have a feeling this will take longer than you hope,” she added, as though sensing my sudden fear.

  Noree was known for her visions and her ability to predict the future, so I was certain her feeling was accurate. Besides, who was I to argue with a woman who knew when and how she would die?

  “Fine, I’ll try my best to get this straightened out ASAP,” I said.

  Noree nodded and gave me a true smile for the first time since I’d met her. It was tinged with sorrow but a smile nonetheless.

  “You didn’t see me die, right?” I blurted out. If she had, then I really didn’t want to know. But she was acting utterly bizarre.

  “No.” She grinned at me. “Nothing so pleasant.”

  And, just like that, I found us back to square one. Instead of answering her, I smiled reassuringly at Samira. “Are you all right with this?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder at Noree, a slight tremor in her hand as she gripped the banister. But when she faced me once more, I watched her crush her fear back down inside.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, and then leaned in a little closer. “Just don’t be gone too long.”

  Nodding, I left the door propped open and headed back into the office. This was the second time I’d left Samira in Noree’s care, but I felt no better about it. Even though Samira was a grown woman, she was still way too vulnerable to be left in the city on her own, especially with the Saga still hoping to get their hands on her. The collar made her a walking target, and the sooner I could remove it the better off we both would be. Until then, I would just have to put my trust in people like Noree and Mazik, which completely went against my nature. I was a loner, and so relying on others for help grated on me.

  Magda stood waiting for me in the doorway, the cold evening air swirling into the office.

  “Ready?” she asked, glancing past my shoulder. What was she searching for? Had she known Byron was here?

  “Yeah,” I said, waiting for her to step out onto the street. After an awkward moment where nobody moved, I realized she was waiting for me to go first. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to give her my back. I didn’t trust her, and she was stronger than me. Without my full powers, I was basically a walking meal for someone like her.

  “Ladies first,” I said, waving my hand in front of me in a sweeping gesture that would make any old-school courtier proud.

  She eyed me once more before stalking toward the car.

  “You sit in the passenger seat,” she said. “I do not like having ot
hers behind me.” She clicked her keys to unlock the car, the interior light bouncing off the buildings around us.

  “Fine by me,” I said.

  I slid into the passenger seat as she hopped into the driver’s side. The moment she pushed the keys into the ignition, heavy metal music flooded the tiny space. I cringed and shrank back against the seat, but the strzyga didn’t bat an eye as the eardrum-piercing noise flooded from the speakers. Instead, she spun the wheel and pulled away from the curb without another word.

  If this was any indication of what was to come tonight, it was going to be one hell of a shit show.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I ducked beneath the crime scene tape in front of the small café and stepped up onto the pavement.

  The front window was completely shattered, large and small pieces of glass littering the pavement in every direction like something had exploded out from the inside. Spotting one of the larger pieces of glass smeared with what looked to be blood and hair, I waved Magda over from where she stood talking to someone dressed head to foot in a white plastic jumpsuit.

  “Have they collected all the evidence?” I asked.

  “Not yet, so don’t touch anything,” she said.

  I nodded and gestured to the piece of glass. “Looks like the wolf cut itself escaping through the windows.” The moment the words left my mouth, I couldn’t help but shake the memory of Byron’s bloodied hands—who did that blood belong to?

  “How do you know it left through the window?” She was pretending to keep her gaze trained on the scene, but I could feel her eyes on me.

  “The glass is out here, as though something came from inside to outside,” I said, before adding, “with considerable force.”

  She opened her mouth to question me further, but I turned to face her and jammed my hands on my hips. “Look, you asked me here. Now, we both know I didn’t do this, or I’d already be in cuffs.” I gestured to the mess surrounding us. “So what gives with the interrogation?”

  “I’m merely curious about your knowledge of investigative techniques,” she said, moving toward the café door.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “There’s something you’re not telling me. And as for investigative techniques, I work as a PI, so they are exactly where they should be.”

  She gave me a vague smile that did nothing to quell the anxiety stirring in my gut. I followed her through the door and into what remained of the entryway. The door itself was torn from its hinges and lay shattered on the roughly hewn flagstones of the café. The illuminated ‘open’ sign lay to one side, its string still attached to the broken frame.

  The moment I stepped inside, my stomach turned at the sight of the devastation. The air was heavy with loss and trauma, and my eyes fell on a small child’s rucksack that lay discarded next to the broken remains of a wooden booth. The rucksack was covered with blood spatter, and as I stepped around the edge of the broken booth my gaze came to rest on the white sheets hiding the remains of whoever had been sitting there.

  My stomach twisted again, and I could feel tears beginning to gather at the corners of my eyes. So much life needlessly wasted, and for what?

  “Do you want to reveal your source now?” Magda asked, moving up behind me and placing her hand on my shoulder. There was no comfort in her touch, no warmth to soothe me. She felt dead. There was no compassion in her, no pity or empathy for those who had lost their lives here.

  Nothing.

  She had brought me here simply to shock me, to force my hand so that I would betray Byron. What had happened within these walls was horrifying, but the innocent victims had died at the hands of a sick creature that could not help what it was doing. I had no doubt in my mind that I would track down the one who had committed this atrocity and bring about a swift and painful end, but the werewolf was not the one at fault for what had happened.

  I was. And Byron. And his brothers. We’d failed these people, and who would bring us to justice for our crimes?

  “I need to go,” I said, turning toward the door. Magda blocked my path, staring me down.

  “You’d leave after seeing all of this?” she asked, not in disgust but in surprise, which brought my anger bubbling to the surface.

  “You thought you could bring me here and manipulate me into telling you my source?”

  “I thought, as a banshee, you might care about the mindless death and destruction here,” she said, eyeing the room with disdain.

  “I do care, and I’m going to put a stop to the creature that did this.” I balled my hands into fists at my sides.

  “How?” she scoffed. “You can barely keep yourself alive. I’ve seen the surveillance footage of what that thing did in here. Do you want to know how long it took to rip through this crowd?”

  I didn’t want to know. I’d seen werewolves in action before, and, much like their animal relatives, they were cruel and relentless. They were also at least three times the size of normal wolves, and governed by a human intelligence, making them extremely dangerous. But that didn’t change my resolve to hunt it down and put an end to it.

  “Ninety-three seconds,” she said, carrying on as though I’d given her some sort of indication that I wanted to hear the rest. “Ninety-three seconds to reduce fifteen innocents to raw meat.”

  I didn’t answer. There was nothing to say—I wasn’t going to budge, and neither was she. The only thing she could do was arrest me for hindering an ongoing investigation.

  “If you leave here now, I won’t be able to help you when this hits the media,” she said.

  Nodding, I moved past her and stepped back onto the street. The air outside was heavy and cloying but still better than the fetid stench inside the café.

  I ducked beneath the crime scene tape and stepped down onto the road, avoiding eye contact with the crime scene technicians. I felt the condemnation in their gazes as I picked up my pace, beginning to jog, my feet pounding along the sidewalk as I ran faster and faster until my breaths came in painful gasps.

  When I reached the edge of the shopping plaza, I bent over at the waist, sucked in a deep breath, and pressed my back to the brick wall of the building where I’d decided to shelter.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Byron said, his voice coming from the darkness of the alley next to me.

  I didn’t jump. I’d heard his approach, and the faint whiff of pine and musk rode the air. Beneath it lay the distinct scent of blood, which I’d had my fill of for one night.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I said, keeping my gaze trained on the ground.

  “You’re here,” he said, his silhouette appearing in the darkness.

  “I was invited. They’re actively looking for weres and shifters after what just happened…” I cut myself off, not wanting to ask the question I knew I had to.

  “Just say it,” he said before the words could even form on my lips.

  “You smell of blood,” I said. “It wasn’t you in that café tonight, was it?” I continued staring at the ground, hating myself for even needing to ask.

  “No. It wasn’t me, but it was a member of my brother’s pack,” he said, and my heart skipped as the tension in my shoulders relaxed.

  “How did the werewolf escape?”

  “That’s not the problem anymore,” he said, and I turned to face him with a frown.

  “Then what is?”

  “There’s a full moon coming,” he said. “With an alpha backing, a pack can usually avoid the change if they want to or have to.”

  I didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, I stepped into the darkness. He moved away from me, but not before I saw the flash of amber wolf in his eyes.

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  “The moon is different this time. It happens so rarely that most of us forgot it was coming… I’ve never seen one in my lifetime.” He looked at me. “It’s the Huntress Moon,” he added, as though that explained everything.

  “I don’t know what t
hat means,” I said, my stomach twisting into knots nonetheless.

  “It’s one of the only moons that causes werewolves to lose control of their beast. The Huntress Moon is connected to the original curse on our kind—it’s the moon our ancestors were cursed under when they lost control and changed, wreaking havoc upon the villages surrounding them and murdering their loved ones who were not afflicted.”

  “Okay,” I said, “so you’ll change, but you’re not infected. So it won’t matter.”

  “Three of the seven in the basement are dead, Darcey, and one of the men from Ash’s pack shifted today as normal and then went into a frenzy… He’s the one responsible for what happened here.”

  It finally hit me—the sickness and the Huntress Moon were somehow connected, and none of the wolves were safe from the disease. They would all shift, they would all lose their minds, and they would all slaughter innocents.

  Ninety-three seconds. Magda’s words rang in my head. If it took just one rogue werewolf ninety-three seconds to rip asunder fifteen people, what could a whole pack do?

  “But you shifted today and were fine,” I said, suddenly remembering Byron’s attack on the vampires that had saved my life.

  He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t seem convinced. “Ash can still shift, too, but how long will that last?”

  “Alphas are different, you know that,” I said. “If the others are at risk of shifting and succumbing to the sickness, then it’s clearly something that affects the pack and not the alpha…”

  “We’re not that different from the others,” he said wearily.

  “Yes, you are. An alpha’s ability to hold the entire pack—the control it takes to both force and prevent the change—makes you special. It’s why alphas are born and not created. Any old wolf can win a fight, but only an alpha has the power to lead.”

  Byron gave me a smile I could just make out in the darkness. “That still doesn’t answer the question of what we do when the Huntress Moon comes.”