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

by C. D. Hersh

  Stunned, Kat ducked behind a tall display, peeking around the edge. Owen surveyed the store and then casually headed toward the door. As soon as his back turned to her, she bolted into the dressing room. Olivia’s handbag lay on the shelf seat. Empty.

  Sinking onto the wooden seat, she hugged the empty handbag to her chest.

  Holy Count Dracula! Owen is a shape shifter, and not the kind I know.

  Moaning, she banged her head against the dressing room wall. Wasn’t this cycle ever going to end? In love with a paranormal . . . again.

  Chapter 24

  Free from a nine-to-five job, Owen went back to his room, grabbed his laptop, then headed to the local coffee shop, away, he hoped, from the prying eyes of shifters and cops. After grabbing a latte, he chose a corner table near an exit and sat with his back to the wall. He downloaded the pictures he’d taken of Falhman’s files and started checking them.

  His coffee got cold as he read the files. Upon discovering Falhman’s plans for Cleveland and his mother, he got cold, too.

  The rogue kingpin had upped the ante in the shape shifter war. He wasn’t just after Turning Stone shifters. In a move to undermine the police force and lay blame at their door, he planned to target innocent citizens of Cleveland in a terrorist attack. With the ingredients for sarin gas which he had tasked Owen to bring to him from WK Shipping.

  He twisted his arm where Falhman had implanted the RFID key. He’d been made part of the kingpin’s nefarious plans. A terrorist.

  Snapping the laptop shut, Owen leaned his head against the coffee shop wall and tried to absorb the information. So many things at risk. His mother’s life. His mentor Johnny’s life. His relationship with Kat. His revenge on Rhys Temple. The innocent citizens of Cleveland. All poised to go down the tubes if he didn’t handle the situations right.

  One wrong word. One wrong action. One tiny suspicion on Falhman’s part, and Owen could be dead. A dead man couldn’t help any of the people he just listed.

  Closing his eyes, he mentally laid the players out on a chessboard. Which calculated moves had the least risk? Who should he save first? Who could he sacrifice? He moved the pieces around until he saw checkmate in his favor. Then he rose, tucked his computer under his arm, and left the coffee shop.

  Kat would be the first piece he would take off the board. Keeping her around to be threatened or captured by Falhman was risky.

  When Owen got back to the apartment, he found his mother on the sofa in the living room, a drink in her hand and a bottle on the coffee table. From the glazed look on her face, he could tell this wasn’t her first drink of the day.

  “A bit early, isn’t it, Mom?”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She took a sip from the martini glass.

  Sighing, he set his laptop on the coffee table and took a seat next to her.

  She twisted on the sofa, tucking her legs under her, and faced him.

  “Considering the trouble you’re in with Falhman, don’t you think it would be best to stop drinking and keep your wits about you?”

  With shaky hands, she set the glass on the table. “Do you have news? Has Falhman told you something?”

  Grateful she asked two questions, he concentrated on the second, knowing she would try and scan his aura to see if he lied. Unfortunately, he hadn’t acquired that skill yet. “I’m just going on what you told me.” Taking her hands in his, he rubbed her cold flesh briskly. “This isn’t like you. You’ve changed since Roc’s death.”

  “So have you, and I don’t like your change any better than I like my own. Sometimes I wish I had never met that man. You would be safe, back in your town still living the life of a mortal, and I’d be . . .”

  “What?” he asked gently.

  “I’d still be at the top of the food chain. Where I belong. Where I’ve been most of my life . . . eating instead of getting ready to be eaten.”

  Top of the food chain. He’d used the same phrase to describe himself the day he’d removed the RFID key from Falhman’s lackey. Now look where he was. Falling rapidly down the chain. With the RFID implanted in his arm, he was Falhman’s entree now.

  “We’re not going to let that happen.”

  “Are we going to tell him about the baby?” His mother’s eyes lit hopefully.

  “No. I’m not going to sacrifice a child. Not for you. Not for me. I’ve got a plan and it’s one Falhman gave to me.”

  “Then we might as well give up, because anything he suggests will trap you.”

  “Not if I don’t follow it the way he plans. Remember how he wants me to play the family card with Alexi and tell her he forced me to become a dark shifter? I’m going to become a double agent for real. I’m going to feel out the enemy. Get her to help you.”

  “That’s a bad idea, Owen.”

  “Not if I’ve got something to bargain with. Something which makes them put you in a witness protection plan where you’re hidden from Falhman. If I get them to believe the first part of the story, I’ll go after keeping you safe.”

  “With what?”

  “You said you’ve got spies. Well, I’ve got some, too. I’ll get something.” No way would he trust what he learned to his mother. Not in her current state.

  “They’re not going to bend their precious law enforcement rules just because you ask. And they’re definitely not going to bend any Society rules on my account. I tried to kill Alexi and Rhys-Eli’s beloved Promised Ones-and they know it. I should just take a mimic form and run.”

  “You can’t stay mimicked forever. Mimicking would put you on the radar of every shifter in existence. Your natural form, with a few cosmetic alterations and a new set of identification, is a much safer plan. Falhman will search for you as a mimic. He’d never think you’d ask your enemies to help. Or they would actually help you.”

  “Which they won’t. What about you . . . and that girl? Are you going into hiding? Because if you don’t, he’ll come after you.

  “There is no girl, Mom.”

  “Liar. I can see it written all over you, and I’m not even reading your aura.”

  “There won’t be after tonight. I’m breaking it off. Not that there was much to break,” he added hastily.

  “If you love her you shouldn’t walk away. I know.”

  “Because of Dad . . . and Roc?”

  His mother poured another drink and swallowed it in one gulp. “I did some horrible things to both of them. Stupid things because, after a fashion, I loved them. Bad things because I’m responsible for . . .” She contemplated the empty glass a minute then said, “It’s lonely without love, Owen. I don’t want that for you.” She reached for the bottle and he stopped her.

  “Let’s get some coffee and food in you.” He helped her to her feet.

  “You’re a good son.” She gave him a maudlin smile.

  As he stood there holding her upright, he wished he could answer in kind, but she had not been a good parent. She had been self-centered and demanding and downright evil at times. But now she was in trouble. And she was still his mother. He had to help her. Even if it meant walking into the enemy camp.

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he steered her into the kitchen. “You’re sappy and sentimental when you’re drunk. I think I like you better as the wicked witch.”

  The minute Owen walked into the police precinct Alexi’s film crew nabbed him and escorted him, none too gently, into the captain’s office. A scowling, redheaded female shifter shoved him onto a chair and a large shifter stood behind him, his hand pressing him firmly onto the seat. He tried to ignore the buzz of shifter tingles radiating through his shoulder where the man touched him.

  “Do you know him?” the redhead asked Alexi.

  “No. Never seen him before.”

  “Owen,” he said. “Owen Todd J
ordan Riley. Your cousin, by Baron Jordan.”

  Alexi rose from her seat behind her desk and approached him. Holding out her hand, she said, “Nice to meet you, cousin.”

  The redheaded shifter rushed over and knocked her hand away before he could grasp it.

  “It’s okay, Mary Kate. He can’t hurt me with all of you around.”

  Mary Kate nodded her approval, and he took Alexi’s hand. Strong tingles ran over his arm, buzzing like bees on a honey comb. Her touch exuded power. Her gaze skimmed him, landing on his face. She was scanning him. Most likely checking out his aura. She broke contact and stepped back.

  “Your aura’s got a lot of black,” she said. “What have you been doing?”

  “The same as you, and the rest of this crew, I suppose. Killing bad shifters.”

  Half a dozen sets of eyes focused on him. He felt like a bug under a microscope. Answer carefully. You don’t know who can read your aura.

  “So, where’s Sylvia?” Alexi asked, peering out the glass wall into the outer office. “She send you here to kill me?”

  “No. I came on my own. Not to kill you.” This time, anyway. “I’ve got a proposition.”

  Alexi hiked herself onto the top of her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m listening.”

  “Last year Falhman kidnapped me to keep my mother in line and forced his Promised One, Roc Decker, to persuade me into liking all things shifter.” He held out the Turning Stone ring on his left hand. “With Roc’s death his persuasion ended. I willingly read the ring’s inscription, but Falhman’s got me doing things I can’t stomach. I want out.” He hoped he’d said enough truths to pass if any of the other shifters could read his aura enough to tell if he was lying.

  Alexi looked at Mary Kate, who nodded. “He appears to be telling the truth.”

  “Go on,” Alexi said.

  “Falhman instructed me to come to the precinct, give you a sob story, and try to get information from you. But I want to turn the tables on him.”

  Another glance from Alexi to Mary Kate, who nodded again. “Let’s say I believe you. What kind of information does he want?”

  “Whatever the cops know. When my mother got kicked out of the office, he lost his inside man, or rather woman. He’s been losing a lot of shifters lately. He wants to know how you and Rhys and your Turning Stone team are managing to kill them. And, I suppose, how he can stop it. I figure whatever information we can feed him will be helpful. But it needs to be real and some of it has to be substantial to make this work.”

  “What are you offering us in return?”

  “Whatever the RFID key Falhman implanted in my arm accesses.”

  “I could just cut the key out of your arm now that you told me.”

  “Don’t think so. It’s part of me on some cellular level.” She frowned and he explained, “He made me mimic someone and injected the key under the skin of my mimic. If I get one thing wrong when I shift back to the mimic, I can’t get the key out. Unless I have the picture of the man he forced me to mimic, I can’t recreate him.”

  “Does the key work?” Alexi asked.

  “Yes. I gained access to the warehouse the other night using the key, but the shipment wasn’t there.”

  “What’s the shipment?”

  He paused before answering. His mother taught him asking a question to avoid answering a question was as effective a strategy as telling half-truths to hide lies. “What’s your offer?”

  “We should throw him in the tank,” Mary Kate said. “Or just shoot him. He’s getting cagey.”

  “Can’t do that,” Alexi said. “If he’s telling the truth, Falhman will want reports. He’s probably tailing him, as well. Go back and tell your boss I’m a sucker, and I took the bait. Then decide what you’re willing to give me to help you get out from under Falhman. Once I know your deal, I’ll consider it.”

  “You’re a harder assed woman than I expected.”

  Mary Kate reached to her waist and withdrew a knife. “Should I cut him for the insult?”

  His mouth went dry. He wouldn’t want to meet this one in a dark alley.

  A tiny smile quirked the edge of Alexi’s mouth. “No. He actually complimented me. But get a DNA sample from him. I want proof he’s related to me.”

  Nodding, Mary Kate approached, knife still drawn, and grabbed a handful of his hair. As she yanked his head back, exposing his neck, he swallowed hard, waiting for the blade to cut his flesh. Suddenly, she extracted several strands of hair by the roots. Owen yelped and rubbed the throbbing spot on his head.

  “We’re done here,” Alexi said. “Escort Mr. Riley out.”

  The man behind him jerked him from the chair.

  “Don’t call me. I’ll leave word at Rogueman’s when I want to see you,” Alexi said. “Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” he replied as the goon manhandled him through the doorway.

  Chapter 25

  “Sylvia’s son came to your office?” Rhys’ voice bordered on rage and disbelief as he took off his Stetson and placed it on the top of the foyer hall tree. “What the heck did he want? And how do you know he wasn’t lying?”

  “I don’t,” Alexi replied. “But Mary Kate seemed to think he was truthful. I took a DNA sample to have tested against Baron’s DNA. If he’s telling the truth, we’ll know soon enough.”

  “What does Eli say?”

  “I haven’t told him yet. I thought it best if you were here. I suspect he’ll go all Highland warrior on us.”

  “I might join him.”

  Alexi shook her head. “I need you to stay calm, Rhys. Between the morning sickness and worrying about the attacks, I can’t deal with both of you going off halfcocked.”

  “We’re not going to bargain with him. As Eli would say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the heather bush.”

  “Heather dinna grow apples, laddie,” Eli said as he appeared from the kitchen. “And I wouldnae say as silly a thing as that.” His gaze cut between the two of them. “Who ’twould it be we willnae bargain with?”

  Alexi shooed him back into the kitchen. “You’ll need a strong cup of tea before we have this discussion.”

  As Eli put the kettle on to boil, she dropped the tea bags into the teapot then took a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and started to pour the alcohol into Eli’s favorite mug.

  “Ooch. I dinna like the looks o’ that.” He laid his hand over the rim, stopping her. “If ’tis bad enough in the telling ye need tae get me drunk, I’d best hear it while I’m sober.”

  He sat down, which made her feel better. She didn’t want him crashing to the floor when his blood pressure soared at the news. “I had a visitor today at the office. A shifter.”

  Concern creased Eli’s face. “Did they come at ye agin? Are ye all right?”

  “I’m fine, and it wasn’t an attack. Someone came to ask for my . . . our . . . help.”

  Eli relaxed in the chair and flashed her a relieved smile. “’Tis guid. It means our kind are seeing ye as a leader.”

  “Not our kind. A rogue.”

  A frown pulled Eli’s mustache down at the corners and his eyes narrowed. “And what would a rogue be wanting ye tae do? And why would ye be considering it? Fer I can see ye are.”

  “I’m considering it because it’s family.”

  “Family?” He rotated in the chair and looked at Rhys. “Do ye have another sibling who has come floating tae the surface like trash in a creek?”

  “Not that I know of,” Rhys said, frowning. “And Roc wasn’t trash.”

  Eli pinned Alexi with a stare. “’Tis an imposter then, because the Jordans have always chosen the light. In the whole history o’ yer clan there’s never been a Jordan rogue shifter.”

  He stood and anxiously smoothed his
beard down with his palm. Suddenly, an expression of horror crossed his face. “By the Druid’s beard. Ye canna mean Baron’s ex-wife, the Daughter o’ the Moonless Night, has asked fer yer help. The black-souled woman tried tae kill the both o’ ye. I doubt anything will have changed her shriveled heart.” He shook his grizzled head. “I forbid it. We need tae kill her, nae save her. Trusting one as dark as her ’twill only bring trouble, and we canna afford another battle like the one we fought tae bring Roc tae our side.”

  “It’s not Sylvia,” Alexi said.

  His commanding attitude softened, confusion rolling over his face. “Then who?”

  “Her son. Baron’s son.”

  After a second of shocked silence, Eli burst out, “By all that’s holy in the forest, lassie, ye canna believe that.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. Mary Kate thought he told the truth.”

  “A guid shifter dinna always have tae tell the truth tae make it seems sae,” Eli said. “The she-devil would have taught her spawn well.”

  “He hasn’t had time to learn those things,” she explained. “It’s only been a year. Now the persuasion has worn off, and Falhman is making him do things he doesn’t want to do. He wants out, and he’s got information concerning Falhman which might be useful to us.”