Son of the Moonless Night (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3)

by C. D. Hersh

  “Does the name ring any bells, old man?” Rhys asked.

  “Canna say I’ve heard it afore.”

  “I also caught her digging in the trash behind the Dew Drop Inn,” Hugh added. “What’s the deputy coroner doing, Alexi?”

  “I don’t follow her dating life,” she said, “but she was probably hunting vampires.”

  “In the trash?” Hugh asked. Then he realized what Alexi said. “Vampires?”

  “Vampires?” Eli and Rhys said in unison.

  “Katrina found some puncture marks on the neck of several corpses, and she has come to the conclusion vampires roam the streets. We’re checking it out.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Vampires aren’t real? Are they?”

  “I wouldn’t discount anything in the supernatural world,” Alexi said.

  Her answer didn’t make him feel better.

  “But I’m pretty sure the victims are mimic shifters.”

  “Is there anything normal roaming the streets of this city at night, besides me?” he asked.

  Rhys laughed. “You’re not normal. Your girl’s cavorting with a shifter.”

  “She’s not my girl,” he protested. “Yet. We were going on a date tonight until you interfered. Now she’s mad at me.”

  “You’re going to fix that. The man she’s been flirting with is a very dark auraed, dangerous shifter. We need to know if he approaches her again. And what he says when he does,” Rhys said. “Whatever it takes to get her to forgive you, is what you are going to do. Got it?”

  Rhys didn’t have to command him. He already felt the stirrings of love toward her and it scared him. As mad as she’d been, he feared it would take more than a few sweet words to make LJ forgive him. He’d probably have to kiss her into forgiveness. When he started down that road, he wouldn’t be able to back away. Wouldn’t want to back away.

  Chapter 22

  On Alexi’s first day back, the office threw her a party. Owen, shifted as Olivia, joined the group in the ribbon-festooned break room, clapping politely as she made her appearance. A few bruises from Falhman’s mimic shifter attack still remained on her face. She couldn’t completely cover them with makeup.

  As he neared Alexi, she showed no signs she could sense him. Bolstered by the turn of events, he decided to make his move on her. All he had to do was follow her when she left and take her down. One stab in the neck and Alexi Jordan Temple would be history, and Rhys would know the pain of losing someone he cared for.

  As he munched cookies and drank pop, he realized he had relished a worry-free week while Alexi recuperated. For the first time in a long while, he actually enjoyed having a routine. When he’d taken care of her, he needed to figure out how to get this job to his male side. With no shifters left in the office, he could begin a new career. Each day he spent with Kat at the office and in the evenings got harder and harder to remember which ego he occupied and what he said as a woman and as a man. He needed to get back to one persona, quick, before he let something important slip.

  Cookies eaten and welcome speeches finished, Kat and Olivia made their way to Alexi’s office to give her the lab results Olivia found. Lab results he’d rigged to hide the poison.

  Alexi studied the report. “You’re certain of these results?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The man’s blood alcohol was off the charts, and he had marijuana in his system. A lot of it. But he died of a heart attack.”

  “I’d really like to run some more tests, Captain,” Kat said. “I think we’re missing something.”

  Alexi flipped through the pages a second time. “Olivia’s tests seem thorough. We’re going to go with these results.” Suddenly, she placed her hand over her mouth and bolted out of the room.

  “What’s with her?” he asked.

  Before Kat could answer the question, a commotion started in the outer office. Suddenly, a flood of shifter sensations rolled over him. Looking out the glass walls of the captain’s office, he saw a crew of people come in carrying cameras, lighting equipment, and microphones. One of them asked Gladys a question, and she pointed to the captain’s office. As the crew started to move, he dashed out of the room and into the women’s bathroom. The shifter sensations eased and, relieved, he leaned against the tile wall.

  The sound of retching pulled him up short. Between panting breaths, he heard Alexi curse. “I’m going to kill Rhys for doing this to me.”

  The toilet flushed and the metal bolt on the stall door crashed open. He dove toward the nearest stall and shut the door. After Alexi left, he peeked out of the bathroom door. Feeling no more shifter tingles, he quickly scouted out the area. The filming crew stood, shoulder to shoulder, jammed into Alexi’s office.

  Owen slipped out of the bathroom, made his way around the far perimeter of the office, and ran back to the safety of the morgue.

  The first words out of Mary Kate McCraigen’s mouth, after introducing herself, were, “You’ve got a shifter here.”

  “Yeah. A dozen,” Alexi said as she looked around her crowded office.

  “Not in here,” Mary Kate said, pointing at the floor. “I sensed him, or her, when I came into the precinct. I couldn’t get a fix though, because the sensation disappeared too quickly.”

  “I told ye the lassie was guid, didn’t I?” said a youngish man with flaming red hair.

  “Eli?” she peered closer at the man.

  “Aye. ’Tis me, lassie.”

  “Spread out,” Mary Kate instructed her crew, “and see if you can find him.” The crew dispersed, roaming the outer office talking to the employees. “Who else was in here when we arrived?”

  “Someone from almost every part of headquarters who knew me. They threw me a welcome back party.”

  “I’ll need a list,” Mary Kate said in a no-nonsense, business voice. “Every employee who might have come. We’ll do a one-on-one follow-up. If you’ve got a shifter anywhere in this building, I will find him.”

  Alexi didn’t doubt for a moment the efficient looking redhead standing in front of her would do just that. And she’d probably grind him up and eat him for breakfast. “Formidable,” she said to Eli.

  “I promised ye someone who wouldnae let any harm come tae ye. She’ll get the job done.”

  Mary Kate shoved a piece of paper into her hand. “Here’s the memo you need to explain what the film crew is doing here. Make sure they give us full cooperation. If we say jump, they need to say ‘How high?’”

  “I think I’ll phrase that a little differently. They don’t take kindly to pushy intruders. We had our share of pushy with Sylvia Riley and her Homeland Security ruse last year.” Squaring her shoulders, she stared at Mary Kate. “I’m not fond of the drill sergeant approach, either.”

  “Butting heads already. Guid. I can see the two o’ ye will get along just fine.” Swinging his gaze between the two women, he gave them a brilliant smile. “Now, I’ve a lady tae see, sae I’ll leave the two o’ ye tae get acquainted. I’ll see the both o’ ye back at the hoose.”

  “The house?” Alexi protested.

  “Dinna fash yerself aboot it. Ye willnae even know she’s there.”

  Turning to Mary Kate, Alexi flashed her a frown. Her protector shrugged. “He’s a hard man to turn down.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “I’ll do my best to stay out of the way. I can bunk with the men in the backyard.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. I’ve got a spare room. It’s the least I can do. The men will just have to tough it out.”

  “Where did you run off to?” Kat asked Owen as she came into the morgue. “You missed the excitement.”

  “Bathroom. Who were all those people?”

  “A filming crew. They’re going to do a documentary on Captain Temple, highlighting women in the police force
. Exciting, huh?”

  “Will they be here long?” Maybe he could call in sick while the shifters roamed the office.

  “Nine or ten months. I guess it takes a long time to do a documentary.”

  A light bulb went on in his head, and he hoped Kat didn’t see his expression.

  Nine months.

  Alexi is in the bathroom throwing up.

  Cursing Rhys.

  She’s pregnant!

  They aren’t here to film the captain. They’re here to protect her. Her shifter sensing must be gone. That’s why she doesn’t act like she senses me. Why Falhman’s men could get close enough to surprise her.

  Eli has called in the cavalry to protect her and the baby.

  Did losing her sensing ability mean she was losing her shifter powers?

  Placing his hand over his stomach, he grimaced. “I don’t feel well. I think the party food disagreed with me. I should go home.”

  “I’ve got some antacid in my desk.”

  “The stuff always makes me sicker.” He faked a nausea attack, blowing out his cheeks and gagging.

  Kat backed away. “Go! Don’t come back until you’re better. I don’t want to mop up vomit.”

  Grabbing his handbag from his desk, he headed out of the morgue to Rogueman’s. Only one person could confirm his suspicions, but could he trust her with this information?

  “Mom,” Owen said as he sat down at the long, polished bar in Rogueman’s.

  At the sound of his voice she looked into the bar mirror, her gaze searching.

  “Here,” he said, waving his hand. He hadn’t bothered to change when he left the morgue and since he had on feminine clothes, he’d kept his alter ego shift.

  Her eyes rounded when she recognized him, and she turned to face him. “Olivia?” She gave him the once-over and then smiled like a doting parent. “You make a lovely girl, son. Why the disguise?”

  “No time to change, and this,” he flipped the row of ruffles on the blouse he wore, “isn’t my style.”

  “It looks very chic.” She checked her watch. “Shouldn’t you be at work? Spying on Alexi for Falhman.”

  “Can we talk somewhere?”

  “Sure.” Crooking her finger, she indicated he should follow her and led him into the back office. “Now, tell me what’s going on,” she said as she slid onto the desk and crossed her legs.

  “I’m going to lose my job at the precinct.”

  “Falhman won’t be happy. What happened?”

  “Shifters. A whole crew of them. They came in today and swarmed the office like termites.”

  “Why?”

  “I think they’re Alexi’s protection detail. Falhman’s goons have attacked her a couple of times recently.”

  His mother let out an audible breath, relief flooding her face. “I thought you were attacking Alexi.”

  “I haven’t had the chance, and now it looks like I can’t get close enough to do anything.” If she’s pregnant, I don’t know if I have the stomach for that. The baby has done nothing to me. He paused. “What kind of pregnancy did you have with me?”

  She blinked. “Is this a personal question? Have you got some girl pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “You left work to ask me about my pregnancy?”

  “I left work because the place is crawling with Turning Stone members who would make me in a second. It’s not safe there anymore.”

  Huffing, she replied, “It wasn’t safe before. Not with Alexi Jordan Temple around.” She stopped and studied him a long moment. “Not safe anymore,” she repeated, “implies you felt safe before.” A line of bat-winged wrinkles creased her forehead then rose into perfect arcs. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” A flash of excitement lit her dark eyes and a smile crooked across her mouth. Sliding off the desk, she paced rapidly in the small office. “Do you know what this means?”

  “Rhys screwed his wife?”

  “Don’t be flip, Owen. This news could save me.”

  “Save you? And I didn’t say she was pregnant. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  She ran her hands through her hair, a very uncharacteristic motion from his usually calm and controlled mother. The dark strands fluttered around her shoulders like black snakes. An ominous shudder ran through him.

  “It makes perfect sense. Falhman’s men got to her because women shifters lose their sensing abilities when they get pregnant. They can’t shift to their alter egos because they could lose the baby. She’s vulnerable now. With each passing trimester she will get more and more vulnerable.”

  “How does that benefit you?”

  “Falhman will want this child. It’s his grandson. The blood of three of the strongest shifter lines runs through this baby. He’s my bargaining chip.”

  Owen grabbed his mother by the shoulders and shook her. “Are you nuts? You would give an innocent child into the hands of someone like Falhman?”

  “You were going to kill her. How is that any different than what I’m going to do? We both planned to use her for our own ends. You for revenge and me to save myself. When he finds out what I’ve done, how much I’ve skimmed from Rogueman’s, he’s going to kill me, Owen. I don’t have any other choice. I have to have something big to exchange for my life.”

  Releasing her, he backed away. Falhman had called her tiresome. Owen took in her disheveled appearance. She looked desperate. He’d never seen his mother desperate.

  “I’ll bargain for your release from him. I won’t leave without you. I swear.”

  “Don’t do anything, Mother,” he commanded. “Don’t say a single word. Don’t even think about what we’ve said here. We’ll find another way to help you without hurting the child. Swear you won’t tell Falhman.”

  “I can’t.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders so hard she winced. “Swear, Mom. If you don’t you will never see me again.”

  An audible breath rattled in her throat, and she held his gaze defiantly.

  “Ever the pain in the ass, aren’t you?” He released her and spun on his heel. When he reached the door he rotated back toward her. “One more chance, Mom. Swear and I won’t abandon you to whatever fate Falhman chooses. You know if you tell him, he will get the baby and still kill you for using his grandchild as a bargaining chip.” When she didn’t answer, he turned his back on her and opened the door.

  “I swear, Owen. I swear.”

  Slowly, he swiveled toward her. Wide eyes, filled with desperation, topped her thin, determined lips. She’d agreed . . . for now. But he wouldn’t trust her oath. His once-strong mother was a weak tree waiting to fall in the perfect storm, and he didn’t know why.

  Balancing his cup of coffee in one hand, Owen knocked on Falhman’s penthouse door. The sound of footsteps neared, and the butler opened the entrance.

  “May I help you?” he intoned, looking down his long, ski jump nose.

  Owen stepped to move in, but the butler blocked him. “I’m here to see Falhman.”

  “He’s not in. I’ll tell him you called.”

  “I’ve got an appointment. In a few minutes.”

  “I wasn’t informed of your arrival.”

  “You’re just the gate guardian, buster. I’m the current favored son.” The butler didn’t move. “Are you going to let me in, or do I have to complain to your boss regarding your rude behavior?”

  “Owen. You’re here. Sorry I’m late.” Falhman appeared behind him, and Owen spun so quickly he spilled his coffee. Mocha colored liquid spread across Falhman’s snow white shirt.

  “I’m so sorry,” Owen said. “If this oaf of a butler had let me in this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Falhman frowned at his servant. “Move, you idiot.” The butler scurried backwards like a spid
er, sputtering apologies. “I need to change shirts, Owen. Wait in my office. You,” he said, jabbing his finger at the butler, “come with me.”

  After closing the door to the wood-paneled office, Owen checked the clock on the wall. Changing a shirt would only take about three minutes. Hurrying around to Falhman’s side of the desk, he flipped through the calendar lying open on the blotter. Falhman had a standing appointment at eight thirty in the evening once a week. Meet L at DDI. What was DDI?

  Making a note of the next date, Owen opened drawers and rifled through papers. In the bottom file drawer, he hit pay dirt. Alphabetical files lined the mahogany drawer. Flipping through them, he stopped at a file labeled WK Shipping. An invoice for dimethyl methylphosphonate, phosphorus trichloride, sodium fluoride, alcohol, diisopropylcarbodiimide, and aluminum canisters lay inside the manila folder. Why did Falhman need these chemicals? And why so much? Plus aluminum canisters? Skimming the contents, he found a warehouse number and shipment reference which matched the ones Falhman had given him.

  Another file labeled Cleveland Rocks caught his eye. Kat had mentioned the New Year’s Eve Celebration on the square, making plans to attend. What did Falhman have to do with the celebration? Owen pulled out the file, snapped photos of the papers with his cell camera, and shoved the files back into the drawer.

  The deep drawer on the other side of the desk had an electronic lock on it. On a whim, he laid his arm with the RFID key against the lock. The drawer snicked open. A file labeled Sylvia lay in the bottom . . . the only thing in the drawer. With shaking hands, he grabbed the file and photographed every paper in it. Then he shoved the folder back in and relocked the drawer.