by Neena Jaydon
Table of Contents
MOON SHADOWS
BOOK DETAILS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Moon
Shadows
Neena Jaydon
Not every werewolf can lead the pack, and that suits Theo just fine. He's built a quiet life as a game tester, and has no desire to change it. But when he pulls Anastasia from a river, it thrusts him right into the public spotlight he dreads—and brings him to the attention of Max, Anastasia's brother.
Like Theo, Max has a secret: he can communicate with ghosts and spirits. When life-draining spirits begin to stalk Fort Rivers, it will take them both to save the day. And as the case continues, Max starts to see a man he wants, and Theo a man he might be able to truly trust. But before they figure out what they could be to each other, an even darker threat comes to Fort Rivers...
Moon Shadows
By Neena Jaydon
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Addison Moore
Cover designed by Jennifer Gavens
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
Second Edition October 2018
First Edition published August 2012 by Torquere Press
Copyright © 2018 by Neena Jaydone
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781684313822
Print ISBN 9781684313952
CHAPTER ONE
First Quarter
The dark highway stretched out before Theo, leading from his friend Marnie's family farm back to town. Pleasantly weary, he replayed the evening in his head with a stomach full of junk food and a face stiff from too much laughter. He and his friends had been pen-and-paper role-playing lately, but with a complete lack of reverence for fantasy conventions and a heavy emphasis on dirty jokes. It was those jokes he was smiling over when he saw the skid marks sliced across the road.
He leaned forward as he slowed his car. Alone on the highway, he had only his own headlights to see by. He saw the tire tracks clearly head into the dirt and flattened bushes next to the bridge ahead of him. There was an ominous, red glow touching the bridge's metal railings. Immediately, his mind went clear and his pulse jumped into overdrive. He crushed the brake pedal to the floorboard, bullying the car to a stop. Throwing on the hazard lights, he leapt from the car.
He ran to the railing and leaned over. Below, he could see the rear end of a car in the river. Most of the car appeared to be submerged, nose down. Theo stripped off his jacket, then ran across the bridge and vaulted the railing.
His weight took him deep into the water, frighteningly so. He waited until he lost downward momentum before swimming for the surface. He broke through to discover the car nearly on top of him. Clawing up it, he got onto the trunk and peered through the back window.
Someone's still in there! The dark figure inside sat at an awkward angle across the front seat. Gritting his teeth, Theo kicked at the rear window. On the third stomp, his boot heel turned the glass into pebbles. He lunged headfirst into the car.
There wasn't enough room to move around. He made one false start, running out of air before he could get to the front seat. Cursing mentally, he retreated for a proper breath. Then he went in again. The woman in the driver's seat had her head bowed, her hair floating around it. His fumbling fingers couldn't unfasten her seatbelt. He growled out bubbles as he forced himself between the front seats for a better look.
The car rocked strangely. Taking the seatbelt in both hands, he snapped it free of its mooring. He wrapped an arm around the woman's waist. Her limbs hooked on the headrests and between the seats. Lungs bursting, he brought his feet down and pulled mightily. With one last thrust, he sent them both flying out the rear window.
The mass under him tilted as his feet cleared the window. The car began to tip sideways. Panting, his heart beating so fast he couldn't hear individual beats, Theo found more strength in his thighs and leapt. He twisted in mid-air. The woman's weight crushed his breath from him when he landed on his back on the surface of the water. He wrapped his arms around her as they went under, then swam upwards. The moment they surfaced he began to kick, swimming backward to shore. When he found support underfoot, he stood and waded through the water. She dangled from his arms in a terrible, lifeless way.
Once on land, he laid her down. Distant noise drew his attention to the bridge, where a parked semi lit up the highway. He could see someone standing near it.
"Call 911!" Theo roared. He couldn't smell her breath. The first aid Ma had insisted he learn flashed into his mind. The woman's mouth was cold rubber beneath his, and in the faint light of the half-moon she looked washed out and strange. Theo shook his head and kept trying.
"Come on now," he whispered to her as he caught his breath. "I was fast enough. C'mon, lady, I was fast enough. Don't tell me I wasn't." Another breath into her mouth. "Don't tell me I wasn't." Two more breaths, and then he jerked back from the terrible croaking sound she made. "Oh, my god," he whispered. Running footsteps didn't make him look up; he was too intent on her eyes as they opened.
All at once she was no longer strange and unnerving. Her face took on life and expression. She stared at him, eyebrows knit.
"Hey," he said hoarsely. "H-how do you feel?"
"Awesome." Her voice was barely audible. "Who're you?"
"Theo."
Her mouth curved awkwardly.
"Nice to meet you, Theo."
Those words gave him permission to feel relief. He sat back on his heels, letting out a weak laugh. The truck driver arrived, bringing news of an ambulance on the way, and Theo looked up at a half-moon in a charcoal sky.
Thank god it wasn't full.
*~*~*
There was a car parked out front, and he'd clearly heard the doorbell respond when he pressed it, but no one came to the door. Max glanced up and down the street, which was full of old-fashioned stuccoed houses like this one, before facing the ragged screen door and its scratched white partner again. He tapped his fingers on the wrought-iron railing as he tried to decide whether to ring again or leave. Just as he reached out to the button again, the inner door opened.
A face appeared: pasty, stubbled with dark whiskers, largely hidden by a combination of brown-framed glasses and heavy, black curls. Taken aback, for a moment Max stared. Presumably the other man was staring back, but Max couldn't see his eyes clearly. He rallied himself.
"Hi, I'm Max Shevchenko. Anastasia's brother."
The face rose as its owner straightened. The man pushed his hair back with one hand, revealing wide, grey eyes behind the glasses. He took a half-step back and glanced around.
What, is he expecting trouble? Max covered his offence with a smile.
"I'm sorry to intrude, but I wanted to say thanks for what you did for my sister."
"Oh." The voice itself was a sturdy baritone but spoke softly.
"You are Theo Dimitriadis, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Th
eo cleared his throat. "Sorry. Come in." He opened the screen door and gestured for Max to enter.
The little house had a sloped ceiling and small, paned windows. The living room wasn't exactly out of control but clearly fought the reins. Stacks of magazines wobbled on a stool, and DVD and game cases sprawled across the coffee table, while the sofa provided a home to a potato chip bag, a wadded blanket, and a video game controller. The armchair tucked next to the window overflowed with half-heartedly folded laundry. An incongruously new home entertainment centre dominated the room.
As he took this scene in from the front hallway, Max carefully kept his expression pleasant. The last thing he was here to do was judge.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Theo," he said, holding out his hand. Theo shook it; his hand was big and warm, but his grip too careful, as though he didn't really want to make contact. After the handshake, Theo rasped his fingernails across his stubbled chin. He wore a black T-shirt, plaid pyjama bottoms, and a ratty, grey cardigan.
"You too."
"I hope you don't mind," Max pushed on, "but I really wanted to say thanks in person. The police say you saved her life."
"I just did—what anyone would do." Theo took off his glasses and held them in both hands. The eyes that kept avoiding Max's were remarkable. They weren't blue at all, but a stormy grey that paled when light touched them. "Is she doing okay?"
"Yeah. She should be out of the hospital by next week." Max pressed his lips together. "She doesn't remember how the car got into the river."
"It happens," Theo said. "Trauma and all that," he added hastily when Max looked at him.
"Yeah, that's what the doctors think." Running out of steam, Max looked at the floor; for at least a minute silence reigned in the hallway.
"Do you want some coffee?" Theo asked abruptly.
"Sure."
"The kitchen's this way." Theo led the way down the hall. The kitchen was tidier than the living room, but even more outdated. Formica topped the white table, and the fridge was a dark yellow-beige colour. The table had space for four chairs but only had two. At Theo's nod, Max took the nearer and sturdier-looking of the two.
"Is that a harvest gold fridge?" Max asked. Theo looked up from pouring coffee and nodded. "I just had to ask, because we had one when I was a kid. My mom said it was a '70s thing."
"Yeah, my grandmother, uh, said that too." Theo looked at the fridge. "She loved it. Ma hated it."
"My mom wasn't so big on it, either. As soon as we could afford it, we got new appliances." Max noticed that the coffeemaker was an expensive brand and sized to serve more than one. Possibly as many as four.
"How do you take your coffee?"
"I always order double-doubles," Max said sheepishly, and again Theo nodded. He brought Max coffee in a mug decorated with a famous TV spaceship crew. His own mug of clearly black coffee had the initials "FQVII" on it. "Thanks," Max said, trying to work out what the initials meant. "So what do you do, Theo?"
"I'm a game tester," came the reply. There, for the first time, was a hint of a challenge in his voice.
"Game tester?" Max blinked.
"I test video games for game companies. Freelance."
"That sounds like a fun job to have." That's a job?
"It's actually pretty rough sometimes, but, uh, lots of people want to do it." Theo drank from his mug.
"I bet. How'd you get into it?"
"I won some competitions. Passed some tests." Theo quickly drank again. "I've got better reflexes than most people." This was almost inaudible.
"Huh." Max tentatively sipped his own coffee and then paused. "This is really good coffee." Running back and forth between home and the hospital, he hadn't slept well since the accident, and the caffeine hit him like a slap.
"I drink a lot of coffee," Theo said with a shrug. "I'm willing to send away for good stuff."
"Hm." Max had more of the best coffee he'd ever tasted.
After a false start, Theo spoke. "What do you do?"
"I'm a dog trainer." He saw those pretty eyes go wide again, and tension lift the broad shoulders hidden in the cardigan. Theo's build was a mystery under the baggy clothes, but he certainly didn't seem to be as soft as Max would expect of a man who played video games for a living. "My family runs a boarding kennel," Max went on. "I grew up around dogs, so it was a natural fit." He leaned forward, trying to gain eye contact. "Look, why don't you drop around for supper next week? Maybe Sunday? My family would love to meet you, and Anastasia should be home by then."
"I really don't need any fuss made over this." Theo stared into his coffee. At this angle, his curly flop of hair cupped his cheekbones, as if trying to draw attention to them. They were worthy of attention, high and finely carved.
"Don't worry about that," Max said. "It'd mean so much to my mom."
"Okay." Theo nodded, offering a smile that did nice things to his well-shaped lips.
"Great," Max said, feeling a warmth inside unrelated to the coffee. I'm not sure, but I think this guy might actually be really cute.
*~*~*
Theo hadn't been looking forward to dinner.
Spending time in the homes of strangers didn't count among things he enjoyed. He pulled restlessly at the collar of the button-down shirt he wore under his most respectable sweater. His mind took a straight line to the sudden visit last Saturday.
He caught me one day after a full moon. God. Too close.
Max, he'd said his name was. He was about Theo's height, and athletic in a jogging-every-day-tennis-on-the-weekends way. With a face on the softer side of square and heavily lidded hazel eyes that matched his dark blond hair's autumn theme, he'd been the type that Theo would never normally talk to: well-dressed, outgoing, handsome, sure of himself.
Never mind out of my league, we're not even talking the same sport here. He grimaced, peering into the rearview mirror to check just how unruly his hair was.
The sign for West Poplar Road pulled his attention back to his driving. Theo turned onto the gravel road and slowed. Sure enough, there was a wooden sign for "Northern Excellence Kennels," accented by thick beds of pansies. He drove halfway around the circular driveway and parked.
Getting out, he paused to take a deep breath. This brought not only cool air into his lungs, but a whole symphony of scents as well, set to the key of "kennel." Not a neglected kennel, though; there was no despair in the air here. And the neatly trimmed fingernails and softly perfect hair on Max Shevchenko didn't match a messy kennel.
Theo stalled by looking around. The small acreage was close enough to town to have cost some money even without the two kennel buildings and the large country house. A mobile home lurked beyond a clump of poplar trees, and shadowed by the two kennels were a paddock with a shelter and a small red barn. He detected horse under all the dog.
Theo squared his shoulders and walked into an uneven chorus of barks. The barking grew louder as he approached the first run. The German shepherd in it abruptly went quiet, retreated, then began to growl.
"Oh, hey!"
Theo looked up at the house in time to see Max come out the back door. Max came down the white-painted steps with his hand out, preceded by the odd couple of a pug and a greyhound. Before Theo could respond, the pug was standing in front of him with his wrinkled face contorted in a snarl. His hoarse woofs were completely serious. The greyhound crouched behind Max's legs with his ears flattened. "Delmer!" Max's tone was surprised. "Delmer, come here. Del—" He picked the dog up, giving Theo a baffled look. "Sorry, that's really not like him. Del, enough!" He gave the pug a gentle shake, and the dog's growling turned into a nervous lick of his nose.
"Uh, it's okay," Theo said. "Dogs don't s-seem to like me."
"Come in," Max said. "I'm glad you could make it." He smiled, and Theo's cheeks grew warm, then warmer still as his own reaction embarrassed him. Fortunately Max moved away without appearing to notice. Turning his head, Theo gave the German shepherd a direct look, putting some weight behind it. The s
hepherd shot into its kennel.
The interior of the house was as tidy and country-magazine-cover as the exterior. The walls were a gentle yellow, accented by framed cross-stitched images of horses and dogs and stained wood hooks holding a variety of coats. Theo could smell dinner as he removed his shoes and jacket: soup, cheese and wine jelly on crackers, a Caesar salad, garlic bread, pasta with a garlicky Alfredo sauce, and cheesecake with raspberry sauce.
Well, I can keep my mouth full enough not to have to talk too much, maybe.
The greyhound bounded up the staircase to the floor above, which earned it a puzzled look from Max as he shut the pug into a dog crate near the front door. A petite older woman came through a doorway to Theo's right. Her attractive, windburned face was framed by braided, silver hair; she wore a simple sweater and slacks.
"You must be Mr. Dimitriadis," she said. "I'm so glad you could make it."
"Call me Theo."
"But she's been practicing your last name all day," a female voice said from within the kitchen. It was a voice too young to care about surprising or offending anyone.
"Oh, don't tell him that. Come on in, Theo," the woman said. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Theo, this is my mother Kaitlyn," Max intervened, stepping past into the kitchen.
"Nice to meet you," Theo said.
"I'm so pleased to meet you too, after all you've done."
"Oh, that was—that was really nothing."
"I think Theo's a pretty modest guy, Mom," Max said. "Maybe keep it low-key, eh? These are my baby sisters, Chrissi and Charli." At a very large dining room table sat two girls of about twelve. They were identically sturdy, freckled, and blonde. They took crackers from a big platter and made no effort to clarify which twin was which. Helpless, he gave them a smile that felt sickly.
"Anastasia's upstairs, resting," Kaitlyn said. "My husband is away on business, unfortunately, so it'll just be six of us tonight."
A surreptitious glance at the waiting dishes on the table and the stove suggested she was expecting far more than that.
"It smells great," he ventured.
