I walked to Erin’s SUV, deep in thought. What was going on? Why would Mac have been a target for murder? Was this about an investigation he’d been involved in? Was this directed against the pack at large? Why was I now a target? I grimly resolved I would get some answers tonight, one way or another.
Chapter Six
As Erin, Liam, and Ian prepared to set off for the pack meeting, a knock sounded at the kitchen door. Liam rose to open the door as Erin shot a semi-apologetic glance in my direction.
“You might not be safe alone while we’re all gone, Julie,” she said, “So Full sent someone to stay with you.”
I lifted my brows, torn between amusement at the thought I needed a babysitter and relief I wouldn’t be left alone to worry about someone skulking around the house.
“Julie Hall, this is Eliza Minuet. Eliza, Julie.”
Eliza was tall, tall and slim, with fawn brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and brown eyes, somehow fierce and warm at the same time. The woman in the third photograph in Mac’s room. All of this registered in the first glance, as I automatically stood, shifted Carson to the side, and offered my hand. We exchanged greetings, me trying not to sound stilted, even as I sensed her assessing every aspect of the situation. Apparently, I passed muster, because she responded with a genuine smile and sat down at the table with me as we said goodbye to the MacGregors.
“So, tell me how you met Mac,” she said, her tone inviting. “May I hold Carson? What a cutie.”
“I met Mac at a bar, actually, although I know that sounds cliché. He was nursing a pint of stout and glowering at the world. Not the most auspicious beginning, I suppose,” I paused, then continued in a rush, “I’m not sure why I was so drawn to him. But I was.”
Eliza nodded. “Mac was like that. Intense about everything, including glowering at the world over a beer.”
“I haven’t heard anyone else here call him Mac. It’s jarring to hear everyone say Roger.”
We exchanged smiles before Eliza continued.
“I remember when we were about ten these high school kids gave him a hard time because he was afraid of rattlesnakes. I mean, everyone’s cautious of rattlesnakes, but he was particularly jumpy. Whenever we were outside and he heard a bush rattle in the wind, he was convinced a snake would emerge. Anyway, on this day, there actually was a rattler hiding under an overhang, and the older kids taunted him about it, daring him to poke it with a stick. You have to understand, older kids in the pack knew Mac was a full. He was already shifting, and it caused quite a bit of tension. And the ones who didn’t know anything about pack didn’t understand why this ten-year-old kid had such a sense of…poise and depth. Intensity. Anyway, they teased him about this snake and he set his jaw, you know,” Eliza aptly imitated one of Mac’s common expressions, “and he took that stick and, with one motion, flipped the snake out from under the rock. And then he grabbed it—actually grabbed it with his hand, right behind its head, just the way a snake-wrangler would—and he held it up toward the teenagers and said, ‘What, this snake?’”
Eliza shook her head slowly, as if to show the disbelief she’d felt at the moment. “Those high school boys never messed with him again. I’m the only one who saw what happened afterward, after the boys sulked off to do whatever obnoxious teens do. Mac flung that snake as far away as he could, then he sank to his knees and threw up. That was Mac, even at ten. Intense. Strong. Determined. Not many people knew more than that.”
Her lips tightened for a minute before she met my gaze.
I cleared my throat before trusting my voice. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. I always thought—I always expected—to see him again. To be with him again.”
Eliza nodded and I continued, the words tumbling out.
“I think what you just said was part of it, you know? Part of the reason things were rocky between us. I saw his strength, his forcefulness, and that’s what drew me in. He let himself relax around me—I saw him playful, saw his capacity for joy was as deep as any other emotion—but I don’t think…I never saw him vulnerable. I never felt he let down his guard completely. He could be so…distant.”
“He was pack and he was a full,” Eliza said.
The simple statement rang with significance, like she thought it answered everything.
“Yeah. I know that now.”
Eliza leaned toward me, her eyes dark as if she sensed my hurt. “He couldn’t tell you, you know. First of all, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d proved it to you, you probably would have freaked out and who knows what you would have done. Second of all, if the pack—or any pack—found out he told you, he would have been in big trouble. I don’t mean slap-you-on-the-wrist trouble, but possibly executing-the-Were-and-the-humans-he-told trouble.”
“Oh.” So much for Erin’s comment that Werewolves aren’t used to violence.
“So don’t be bitter. Don’t let that color what you and Mac had.”
What Mac and I had.
“I think I should get Carson ready for bed. This is about the time of night I try to get him to sleep.” I stood up abruptly, softened it with a smile, and took Carson upstairs.
****
About half an hour later, I came back down to the living room. Carson slept a little bit better these days. I wasn’t going to count my chickens, but I hoped he’d have a good three hour stretch before needing me.
Eliza had cleaned up the kitchen and sat on the couch leafing through a magazine. She looked up as I came in and gave me a smile.
“Well, Carson’s sleeping,” I said. “I wanted to say thanks for listening, before.”
“I miss Mac, too,” she said, simply.
“Yes. So, you and Mac…” I waited, but when Eliza didn’t finish the sentence, I filled in awkwardly, “you and Mac grew up together?”
“He was like my brother. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know him.”
Like a brother, that was good to hear. Yet, somehow, even before I knew how to characterize their relationship, I felt strangely unthreatened by it, even though surely if there were anyone I was likely to envy, it would be someone like Eliza. But instead, I’d felt an instant kinship with her, finding her incredibly easy to be around.
“I wish…I wish I’d known him longer.”
“How long did you and Mac date?”
“About six months. Only six months. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after we broke up. Right after he left Oregon. His case was over, I guess. I was so bitter…I told him if he left, then he should never come back.”
Eliza nodded, and I continued in a rush.
“I didn’t even tell him, you know? He never even knew I was pregnant and he would be a father. I was so angry, so hurt… I was going to tell him, though, I really was. I just wanted to prove to him—or to myself—I could do this on my own and I didn’t need him any more than he needed me. I can’t believe I didn’t tell him. I can’t believe I was so stupid and stubborn.”
Eliza laughed, an unexpected lilting sound. “Stupid and stubborn, huh? Well, that sounds about right for Mac. You two must have been quite a pair.”
I snorted. “Yeah, well. I’m the one who broke up with him, you know, but I think…I still think…maybe he was it. The only one for me. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, so demanding, things might have turned out differently. Maybe he’d still be…” The rest of my sentence hung in the air, and I shrugged awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I barely know you and here I am unloading all this crap.”
“Julie, we just met, but we know each other. We loved Mac. We’re grieving for him. I understand.”
“Yeah, but…you knew Mac his whole life and me? I’m just some interloper who knew him for six months and got pregnant.”
“Julie!” Eliza voice was fierce. “If you know anything about Mac, you know he never did anything casually. And that includes dating. If he was with you for six months, then you were important to him. Now you’re important to me and so is Carson.”
She held my ga
ze until I nodded, then she leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “It’s a hard life, being part of the pack. It’s hard to have relationships with humans.”
I raised my eyebrows in shock at her phrasing. After a moment, I said carefully, “Do you not consider yourself a human, then?”
“No.” Eliza frowned. “I’m a Were.”
“Tell me. What does it mean to be a Werewolf? How are you different? How does it change your life? I need to know a lot more to support Carson. More than the fact that he’ll probably go furry once a month.”
“Well, I’m not sure where to start.”
Abruptly, Eliza sat up straight, eyes flashing, and motioned me into silence. I looked around the room, feeling tension shoot up my spine and into my muscles. Eliza remained motionless for several moments, then stood in a fluid motion and moved silently toward the front door. She turned and pointed at me, a gesture that unmistakably said, “Stay where you are and don’t make any noise.” As she neared the door, she paused and the shadows in the hall seemed to writhe and swallow her. I caught my breath, staring intently, but wasn’t able to see her. I felt as if my eyes couldn’t focus or somehow couldn’t see through the otherwise very normal light in the hall. I stood up, balancing on the balls of my feet, hands clenched at my sides. My gaze darted between the front door and the stairs behind me.
Unable to stay still any longer, I made my decision and darted up the stairs, down the hall, and into Mac’s old room where Carson slept. My baby lay on his back, arms flung wide, one knee crooked. Even at that moment, something inside me loosened when I saw his little form, sleeping so sweetly. I padded to the side of the bed and gave him the lightest kiss. Then, I lifted my head and saw the window. Without thinking, without letting myself think, I crept over to kneel by the window and I cautiously peered over the sill. I scanned the front yard, not knowing exactly what I hoped to see.
In fact, I saw nothing. Except…was that Eliza, there in the shadows near the driveway? And was that a person near the cottonwood?
As I squinted, trying to focus better, a knot of shadows leapt toward what-might-have-been-a-person. A rush of motion confused my eyes, then a tangled shape rolled onto the gravel drive. I took a step toward the door, following some instinct to rush out and help, then realized I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and would be only a liability. I watched the knot of indistinct shadows, and reminded myself to breathe. Suddenly, the night tore open with a flash of fire and a loud noise, like a car backfiring. Shit—a gun. An actual gunshot! I moved so quickly I had to grab the wall for balance and sprinted down the steps to the front door.
Once I reached the door, though, I hesitated. I peered through the little peephole when the door yanked open from the outside and I nearly fell into Eliza.
“Crap! Eliza,” I blurted, never more articulate than when my heart pounded a mile a minute. “Are you okay? What happened?”
My question was answered as soon as my brain registered the sight in front of me.
“You’ve been shot. Holy hell, Eliza.”
Somehow graceful even with blood running down her right arm, Eliza lifted one eyebrow and pushed her way into the hall. I followed her, babbling who knows what.
“Julie. Julie.” She reached out and shook my arm. “I’m fine, okay? Look, it’s already healing. The bullet went right through.” She pulled up her short sleeve to show me a gaping red wound in the fleshy part of her upper arm. The bullet hole almost visibly closed as I looked.
“Julie, I’m fine. Okay?”
I closed my mouth and nodded, then followed her into the kitchen where she wet a cloth and washed the blood off her arm.
“God, I hate getting shot,” she muttered.
I shook my head. “This is a regular thing? No big deal?” I cleared my throat, realizing my voice came out shrill.
“No, no, of course not. No, I’ve only been shot once before and it was an accident. Kind of.”
I closed my eyes, tabled the zillions of questions that jumped into my mind from her answer, and focused on the point at hand.
“What the hell just happened? And would you sit down and at least pretend to rest a minute?”
A minute later, we sat at the table, Eliza still dabbing her arm with a damp cloth. She explained what happened from her perspective.
Apparently, Eliza had heard footsteps outside, or noises that might have been footsteps. She called the moon, cloaking herself with shadows, and sneaked out the door to investigate. Once outside, she caught the intruder’s scent and easily located him. She chastened herself for not immediately smelling the gun, but claimed it was an easy scent to overlook when the gun hadn’t been fired recently and when one was near other metal machinery like a car. She pounced on him, intending to capture him, but during their tussle, he pulled a small gun from his waistband and shot her at close range. When she fell back, startled, he darted away. Quickly.
“And you’re really okay now?”
Eliza lifted the washcloth to show me a small puckered scar. “Even that will be gone soon enough.”
“Holy crap.”
“Julie, are you okay?” Eliza asked me, her voice seemed to come from far away.
I tried to answer her, but my ears rang too loudly and she seemed to retreat farther and farther down a long tunnel—a tunnel?—and I fell into the darkness.
****
“Julie? Julie?”
Eliza’s voice registered softly, and I became aware of something cold on my forehead. I lay on a hard, smooth surface. When I opened my eyes, I realized it was the kitchen’s linoleum floor. Eliza knelt next to me and peered down at me.
“What?” I mumbled.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You fainted.”
Events flooded back to me, and I abruptly tried to sit up. The cold washcloth fell off my forehead as I moved. Eliza held my shoulders down, telling me to take it easy for a minute.
“Let me get this straight. You got shot. And I fainted.” My voice rose. “You got shot and I fainted?”
“Yep, guess so.”
Eliza had no reason to sound so merry, I thought with some pique. Although—my mouth twisted wryly—I guess it was kind of funny. I snorted, Eliza laughed, and pretty soon we were giggling on the kitchen floor. After a minute, Eliza pushed herself back and wiped her eyes.
“It’s not funny,” I said, before we both dissolved into laughter again.
“All right, all right.” I sat up gingerly and collected myself with some deep breaths.
“So, could you tell who he was? The guy who shot you?”
Eliza lost her smile. “I didn’t know him. But I’ll know him next time,” she said, a low growling note in her voice.
Which reminded me. “Why didn’t you change when you pounced on him? You know, into a wolf?”
“I didn’t want to hurt him, just restrain him.”
“But.” I looked at Eliza’s slim frame dubiously, and my thoughts must have been clear.
“Move your arm,” she said.
“What?”
Eliza reached out, pinned my left wrist to the table, and repeated, “Move your arm.”
I tried, oh, believe me, I tried. I’m not the weakest person in the world, even if I am short. But I absolutely could not move while Eliza held me.
“Oh.”
Eliza released me and sat back.
“Then how did he get away?”
She shook her head slowly. “Just lucky. He moved at the very instant I jumped him, so he had one hand free, and I didn’t have great traction, and then, well, then he shot me.”
“Ah.” I swallowed hard, remembering the gaping red wound slowly closing up. I raised a hand to forestall her question. “I’m fine, really. You know, I’m a librarian. Usually, when I see carnage it’s…a binding ripped to shreds or some toddler with a crayon who’s gone to town… This…this is just a bit beyond me.”
“For a librarian, Julie Hall, you’re doing okay.”
I smiled back at her with real war
mth.
****
Eliza wouldn’t let me go back outside with her, even though she was pretty sure our mystery intruder high-tailed it. She returned after fifteen minutes and announced he’d run partway down the driveway and then gotten into a pickup truck. Initially, I was impressed she could distinguish a pickup just from the smell, but she explained something about tire tracks and axle length. I remained impressed, actually, because no way could I figure out anything from a set of tire tracks. Anyway, he was long gone, but Eliza was absolutely sure she’d know his scent again—and probably the scent of his truck. I was surprised it hadn’t been a blue sedan. Maybe that vehicle had been too conspicuous, after last night’s accident, and our enemy had changed cars. If it was even the same person. Maybe a whole passel of people was out to get me. I found myself preoccupied by that discomforting thought.
“I should probably call Lily, even though the pack is in the middle of meeting,” Eliza mused out loud.
“By the way, why did Lily choose you to miss the meeting, to protect me? Not that I’m complaining,” I added, “since you obviously proved yourself an apt protector.”
“Lily and I already conferred,” Eliza said, pulling out her cell phone, “so there’d be nothing new for me at the meeting.”
She walked into the other room, dialed, and after a short pause I heard her relaying recent events. She listened for a minute and spoke in a low voice, then hung up.
When she came back into the kitchen, I asked the question occupying my mind the whole time. Especially since I tried not to think about how many people might lurk in the darkness, intending me harm.
Dark Moon Wolf Page 6
