Louisiana Moon

by Rhea, Lani

  After she turned from him, she whipped out her pistol from the backside of her pants and fell in behind Darin and V who were already far ahead. Where would she find Rita in the house? And in what condition would she find the woman?

  With the others, Kris hopped the fence and entered the hallowed ground. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. Maliciousness tugged at her nerves, making her senses go into overdrive as she tried to sort through the scents to learn who was the source of the evil.

  Ryant, tell the leaders to make them all stop. There’s something very bad here.

  A few seconds passed before she heard his voice. Soulscapes?

  Maybe. Hard to tell for sure but stop them now.

  Several anxious seconds passed. Kris planted her feet and didn’t move. To those ahead of her, she whispered, “Stop right now.”

  Four men in front of her halted and looked confused.

  “Ryant, hurry up, damn it.”

  While she waited and the others pressed on, she glanced at her surroundings, her gaze continuing to stray to the graves. She’d stopped between two headstones dating back to the mid seventeen hundreds. In front of her, crypts the size of short buses loomed, ghostly under the moon’s light.

  When Ryant spoke in her head, she jumped. The warning calls have been passed to the soldiers.

  Good. Make sure they’re all still so I can listen.

  Okay.

  Crickets chirped in the far distance, on the outskirts of the cemetery. But this wasn’t the noise she searched for. She waited for the echoing screeches. Like the first night at the hell house.

  In front of her, a few soldiers neared the gate and house. No. They needed to back away, head to the forest. Ducking low, she walked backward toward the iron fence. As she passed Ryant, he stared at her with confusion. What’s going on, Kris?

  Before she could answer, the sounds of rock sliding from the crypts turned her blood to ice.

  “Soulscapes,” Kris screamed.

  All around her, time seemed to freeze. Then with a flurry of action and war cries, vampires and fae sprang into action, yanking out their weapons. Screeches bloomed in the midnight air, the dogwatch hour.

  Whooshing fluttered overhead and swooped low. She bent closer to the ground near a footstone. Demons plunged into statues of angels, guardians holding lanterns, mothers holding babies and lambs. The ground shook beneath her feet.

  A hand latched onto her ankle.

  She shouted and jerked away only to stumble on another footstone and fall. She hit the ground and rolled onto her back. From the grass in front of her, a zombie rose. Half in the dirt, it snarled at her. Glowing with eerie green, hungry eyes fixed on her and sharp teeth gnashed.

  She leaned on her shoulder blades, raised her weapon and shot the zombie square in the forehead. Its grip let loose, but stayed locked on her ankle. Its head slumped, face planted in the dispersed dirt. She shook her leg, freeing herself, and crab walked away, seeking as much distance between her and the dead thing.

  At the sounds of battle all around her, she turned to witness men with drawn swords clashing with cement statuaries. Soulscapes’ shining eyes replaced what once were objects meant to soothe the living at the lost of their loved ones.

  She jumped to her feet and surged into the fray. The first zombie she reached had a fae backed against an obelisk. She shot the fucker in the head and smiled as the zombie fell to its knees and collapsed on the ground with a lifeless thud.

  The fae gave a silent nod of thanks.

  She went for the next.

  An angel statue ripped a vampire’s head off and threw it to the ground. The head rolled and hit her boots, mouth wide open, fangs shining in the moonlight. She moved around the decapitated head as the statue turned to her. Bastard.

  She squeezed several rounds off at the statue’s chest. No bullet punctured the fucking thing. Backing away, she emptied the clip, and reached in her boot to pull another out in time as a zombie barreled toward her from the right. She shot at its chest, into its dead heart. Not fazing the zombie. Damn it, Kris, focus. Shoot the head!

  She jabbed the barrel into the zombie’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Pieces of bone and splatters of other organic material she didn’t want to identify pelted her head and arms.

  Zombie handled, she turned to the more serious threat. The statue kept trudging forward. She shot several rounds into it hoping it would shatter but still nothing. Fuck.

  A dark shadow from her left appeared. Kris caught her breath; it was Ryant. He moved forward, wielding a sword and separated the angel’s head from its shoulders. The statue stopped, wobbled then crashed to the ground as the demon inside slithered toward the sky.

  Ryant grabbed the bag Thore had given him. “Here, this will stop them forever.” His hand dipped in the bag and withdrew what looked like nothing as he reared back, throwing a rock at the demon struggling for release. The rock hit the demon and burst into dust. The demon sizzled and melted into metal then solidified.

  She stepped over the body while the earth continued to shake beneath her feet. Freed soul demons inhabited more bodies, and zombies crawled from graves and straight for her with a single-minded determination she would have admired had they not been coming to kill her.

  Fuck this.

  Not caring who saw, Kris stripped off her clothes and the werewolf transformation began.

  Muscles detached from bones. A searing, knife-like slash, ripped her from scalp to toes. Fingers elongated into razor-sharp claws. The muscles over her body bulged into massive lumps. Her spine cracked, throwing her forward onto all fours. While lying on the ground, her neck stretched as her snout protruded.

  She howled and her eyesight crisped with night vision. Death lingered in the air as thick as molasses. Swords sliced like grinding metal against stone.

  Ryant snatched her pouch and ran for the next demon.

  Let him handle the demons; she would take the zombies. Hoping he heard her thought, she kept on his heels then surpassed him with the need to kill. Powerful hindquarters propelled over her the ground, sending her into zombies. With no pause and mouth open with ripping canines bared, she ripped heads from shoulders. Ryant did the same to the demons but also tossed the dust rock, destroying the Soulscapes before they could reform in another statue.

  Ten zombies and three demons down; they seemed to only have hit the tip of the iceberg. Many littered the ground but so did large numbers of fae and vampires. She growled with frustration.

  When the number of zombies dwindled, she trotted to her discarded clothes. The transformation back to human took less time. A sticky residue enveloped her naked body once she’d morphed to human form. She yanked on her clothes. Now came the moment of truth.

  Ryant, I need the pouch.

  He materialized and tossed it to her.

  A sword lay near a fallen fae, next to a crypt. She stuffed her .40 in her pants as she raced to retrieve it. The back of a guardian statue came into view. She pointed the sharp tip at it and rammed dead center, making it buckle to the ground.

  As she reared back to the side, she chopped off the head. The demon squealed with its forced exit and she threw a rock. Just like the others, the demon froze, melted then turned solid. A movement ahead caught her attention just in time to see a black robed figure dart between the solid cement structures. Just like in her dreams.

  Holding the sword tight in her hand, she ran after the figure and found herself in a maze of crypts. Just like her chase dreams, she felt as if she moved through molasses and couldn’t gain ground fast enough.

  Soon she lost the figure completely. Tossing her head back, she howled into the night sky. Where had the fucking thing gone? A sound not far from her spun her around. She slid into a narrow alley, staying close to the walls and pulled out her weapon. With a sword in one hand and her gun in the other, she swung around the corner to find… Nothing. Nobody.

  With the sound of battle as her guide, she ran back to the others. She’d hav
e to deal with that figure another time. She raced through the water-filled path. The water splashed as she rounded another corner. When the maze came to an end and she burst out, terror filled her at the sight of Darin surrounded by three demons and V nowhere in view.

  He held a gun firmly, shooting at them with no effect. One lurched at him and she screamed as she sprinted forward, feeling slower than ever before and knowing she’d not get there in time. The stone statues claws ripped into flesh, slashing a foot long gash in Darin’s midsection. He echoed her scream.

  Another demon went for his neck and took out a chunk. Darin slumped to the ground and fell still. Lifeless. Anger washed through her and she was on them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryant and Zeke join her. Fueled by rage, she made short work of the demons. When they were dispatched, she fell on her knees beside Darin.

  “No,” she moaned.

  With each breath, air bubbles burst from the neck wound. The stink of bowels filled her nostrils, a sure indication his intestines were exposed. A death wound. He’d never survive that.

  “Kris?”

  Setting his head in her lap, she stroked his face. Eyes wide with horror met hers as he grasped at his neck. “Darin, I’m right here.”

  Blood flowed in a steady stream, dripping, dripping onto the ground. Her throat clogged as tears welled in her eyes. No. No. No. Not Darin. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to die. Her fault. She’d brought him into this. Had, in her arrogance, thought to save him from V yet had brought out his destruction. Her, not V.

  He tried to speak.

  She leaned over him, whispering into his ear, “Shh, no, you’ll be okay. I’ll get you help. Hold on.”

  He closed his eyes and his head lolled.

  She looked up at those surrounding her. “Ryant, we’ve got to get him out of here. I think I feel a heartbeat. It’s weak but he’s still alive. Do something.” Kris cradled Darin’s head in her lap, brushing a hand through his hair.

  * * * *

  Even as her hurt tore him up inside, by the nature of his wounds, Ryant couldn’t move Darin. Knowing Kris wouldn’t understand, he shook his head.

  “Please, Ryant.”

  The plea in her tone was almost his undoing. He didn’t want to hear her beg. Joining her, he knelt, placing his fingers on Darin’s neck for a pulse check. “His pulse is dangerously low. I’m not sure he’ll survive if we transport him.”

  Denial flooded her gaze so he continued, “I will try. Understand that I will try, okay?”

  She nodded and grabbed the crystal necklace that lay near Darin. Ryant placed a hand on her shoulder and one on the human’s chest. Darin’s breaths were too shallow. If there is a human God, please let this work.

  As he closed his eyes, Ryant visualized their bodies as one, turning to molecules as they faded slowly into the numerous complications that arose from shifting Darin. Fuck, this better work for her sake. Tighter, he squeezed his eyes.

  The air around them moved then stopped.

  “Ryant, you did it and he’s still alive.” Joy filled Kris’s tone.

  He opened his eyes. They were back at Club Fifteen, in the den. He might have transported them but he didn’t have the heart to tell Kris Darin would not survive his wounds. How the human was still breathing was beyond him.

  Darin moaned. She lightly touched his cheek. “Darin, you are safe and you’ll be fine.”

  Beyond his moan, he didn’t move or speak.

  “Darin?” Feathering her fingers over his neck, she felt for his pulse. Her gaze came to Ryant. Her lovely eyes glistened with tears, the depth of her pain slashing through him. “He’s dead.”

  The emptiness in her tone shook him into action. Carefully, he took Darin from her, laying him flat on the den floor. Ryant cupped his hands and began chest compressions. “One, two, three, four.”

  He shot a look at Kris. She leaned over, squeezing Darin’s nose, placing her mouth on his as she forced air into his lungs. Come on Darin, don’t die on us. Don’t die on Kris.

  The unusual words circled his mind. He wasn’t used to saving human lives—he took them or converted them to vampires. For Kris, he would do anything. Even the sight of another man’s mouth on hers didn’t bother him as much as her pain. He pressed four more times then allowed her to blow.

  All to save the human she cared about because Ryant cared about her and would give her anything she wanted. Even if it was another man.

  32

  Darin coughed, squirting blood from the wound. They both stopped. Kris felt for a pulse. “It’s still faint.” She looked at Ryant, something dark in her gaze. “I don’t want to lose him again.”

  Understanding seared through him. He knew what she wanted him to do. It wouldn’t be the right choice though. Changing Darin felt wrong on so many levels.

  “We can wait and see how his body responds. I’ll send for help.” As he stared off to call for help, his calling was cut short when Kris placed a hand on his.

  “I don’t want to take the chance.”

  “Kris, do you know what you are asking?”

  She nodded. “It’s not right he should die. I brought him into this mess thinking I could save him. Instead, he’s dying because of me. Change him.”

  He stared at her, seeing the resolve in her eyes. Changing a human in the past meant nothing. Here, the love of his life, the woman who’d demanded he never change a human, begged him to now.

  “You heard me. Change him.”

  “What if he dies?”

  More tears sprang to her eyes. She hugged her arms around her midsection and rocked.

  Damn it. Ryant shoved his hands through his hair. “What if this is something he wouldn’t want?”

  Kris didn’t answer or look up.

  On the verge of agreeing with her, he stopped as a female voice said, “I’ll do it.”

  A movement from the side as V knelt. She stared at him then her gaze shifted to Kris. The two women, one wolf, one vampire, locked gazes. Despite being able to read Kris’s mind, she showed nothing of what was going on between them. Finally, she nodded and moved away a bit.

  “Oh, Darin. I should never have let you go with us.” V kissed his forehead then she looked up. “There might be deadly parasites left from the demons. After the change is made, Darin will need non vamp blood to feed on.” Her head tilted. “Kris, will you offer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I must take some of his then I will give him mine.” V lowered her face to his wound and licked at the blood.

  As she lifted her head, a quizzical expression lined her face but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she raised an arm and bit into her wrist. Blood poured from the bite. She held the flow of liquid over Darin’s mouth. Ryant watched her carefully as she went through the process. She stayed quiet as she squeezed her blood to mix with Darin’s. The wound hissed when her blood met his.

  After a few minutes, she sat back and sighed.

  “Is that it?” Kris asked.

  “Yes. You’ll need to keep an eye on him.” V cocked her head at Ryant. There’s something wrong with his blood.

  He knew it. Ever since he’d been trapped in the office with the man, Ryant sensed something about Darin. But what? That would be a question unanswered for now.

  Standing, he gestured at V and they left the room, leaving Kris alone with Darin.

  As soon as he woke, Ryant planned to ask him the hell was wrong with him.

  * * * *

  Kris watched Ryant and V leave the room, thankful V had saved Darin. He would turn soon and Kris didn’t want to leave his side. With the friendship they had, she wanted to be there for him. Anything to make sure he at least graced the earth and didn’t end up six feet deep.

  Still, had she the right to change him? After she’d tried so hard to save him, he was right back where he started. Would he be happy to be alive or furious? Had she lost his friendship due to her selfishness? She shook her head. Angry with her he might be; at least he was al
ive. She would live with that as long as he did.

  For hours, she watched his body jerk with small convulsions as the vampire blood took over his central nervous system. Like a bad dream, his eyes would flutter. She smoothed his brows in the hope of easing the transformation.

  “Darin, you could have been killed today,” she whispered.

  Even as she was glad V had changed him, Kris wondered why Ryant wouldn’t. She knew she’d made him promise but as she’d asked him, she figured he’d realize she released him. As for V, she viewed the female in an entirely different light.

  Darin stirred.

  “Darin?”

  He moved only a fraction, not opening his eyes.

  “Darin, how do you feel?”

  In a slow move he cupped the back of her head, kneading his fingers through her hair as he lowered her to his nose. When his lids lifted, black pearls stared back.

  Kris blinked, confused. What would he do next? She’d never been around a new blood when they were changed. His empty eyes frightened her. And she’d volunteered to do this? Such a crazy thought. In the hallway, Ryant and V were nearby if she needed them. If she did, would they arrive before it was too late?

  Darin dragged her head near his lips, his preternatural strength pulling her further to the unknown. “I’m hungry,” he whispered, his voice raspy as sandpaper.

  In a way to try and reassure herself, she smiled. But her lips quivered.

  “You smell good.” He sniffed around her neck.

  “Better than the soot behind me, I hope.”

  He laughed. Not his usual laugh, it sounded more chilling and deadly. Lethal.

  She glanced at his neck to see the wound had completely healed. When he tugged her neck closer to his mouth, he growled and her gut clenched. She flinched away before she could stop herself.

  Darin surged upward, loomed over her and snarled. Paralyzed, she couldn’t make her body do what she really wanted to do—run and scream.

  Praying he’d remember her through his hunger, she said, “Okay, Darin. Look at me, really look at me, okay? It’s Kris.”

  His gaze drifted from her throat to her eyes.