Hunt the Moon

by Kari Cole

  Pressing a sucking kiss to her mark on his shoulder, she said, “Mine” as they both shattered.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Izzy could not stop smiling. She was back in the air, co-piloting Dev Crandall’s Bell UH-1H Huey 10 helicopter, sailing over the glorious peaks and valleys of the Cabinet Mountains. Best of all, Luke was with her.

  She should tone it down, though. It seemed rude to be so happy when they were searching for two missing cops and a murdering asshole of a cougar.

  “Why do you think this is a good place to search for your rogues?” Izzy asked as the rotors spun down. When Luke had called Dev earlier, she’d been so thrilled at the prospect of flying again, she hadn’t paid attention. “Seems kind of remote. Even for weres trying to stay on the down-low.”

  From the air, she’d seen no signs of habitation for many miles. The land was rugged and wild, with lots of steep slopes and deep, narrow gorges. They’d strapped snowshoes to their backpacks, but Luke had said they wouldn’t need them for most of the trek. She could see why. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much snow on the ground. Probably because it was so freaking windy. It howled across the mountain face, making the evergreens dance and sway. Good thing she was from Chicago and used to such pissy behavior from Mother Nature.

  “It is,” Luke said. He rubbed a spot on his chest like he had heartburn. “It’s on the edge of our territory. One of the sections Vaughn supposedly searched.”

  She tugged her knit hat down over her ears. “And you don’t think he actually did?”

  “I don’t know. No one’s heard from or seen him or his deputy, Sam. So I can’t ask them about anything. They didn’t show up at the party last night, they’re not answering their phones, and no one knows where they are. We thought it’d be a good idea to recheck all their sections.”

  Dev and his son Davy, who’d already shifted into a wolf, joined them outside the helo. “I just don’t see either of those guys turning rogue,” Dev said. Davy barked his agreement.

  “Won’t know until we find them,” Luke replied, his voice stiff and cold.

  They fanned out into the trees, the wolf and men making no noise. Hell, not even the snow crunched under their boots. Izzy, on the other hand, sounded like a bull in a china shop. If there was a twig on the ground, she stepped on it. A low-hanging branch, she bumped into it.

  Luke kept her close as he scanned their surroundings, his face taut. She wished they could go back to his cabin where his eyes had been free of shadows.

  In a low voice, he said to her, “This is a good time to learn to use your nose. Open yourself to your wolf’s senses. She’ll help you. Don’t worry if you can’t name the scents yet. Just describe them.”

  Right. Good thing he’d given her the caveat, because city girl that she was, she had no idea what most of these trees were called. Well, Wolfy, what do you think?

  Over the last two days, Izzy’s wolf had evolved from a terrifying, headache-inducing buzz to an almost-physical presence in her mind. If she closed her eyes, sometimes she “saw” the silver creature pacing or lying down.

  Like now, she didn’t know if it was her imagination or not, but the wolf snorted at her, as if annoyed. What? Izzy asked her. Don’t like Wolfy?

  This time, she was sure she heard a disdainful huff.

  I’ll work on it, she promised. What do you think? Izzy breathed in deep, trying not to get squicked out by the undeniable sensation of something else stretching inside her.

  Izzy’s human brain told her she smelled snow and green things—definitely some pine, maybe cedar. The wolf, though, provided more detailed answers in the form of pictures that flitted through her mind like an old film reel. “Whoa,” she said under her breath.

  “What?” Luke asked, helping her step over a fallen limb.

  “It’s just...wow.”

  Finally, a smile turned up the corners of his gorgeous mouth. He brushed the backs of his fingers down her face. “Yeah. It is. Tell me what you smell.”

  “Well, there are all the trees, of course. I got some birds and rabbits. A big deer. Davy and Dev, and you. She’s showing me pictures. Does that sound nuts?”

  “No, sugar. We all communicate with our other halves in different ways. Pictures are great. As you grow more comfortable with each other, she may give you something more verbal.”

  Remembering last night, Izzy snorted. “She’s real comfortable making her position clear on one particular subject.”

  “Oh?”

  A blush warmed her wind-whipped face. “When it comes to you, the word ‘mine’ comes through loud and clear.”

  “Isabelle,” he said with a low, sexy growl. “When we get home—”

  A sharp bark from Davy made Luke spin around. They were already running when the second bark and Dev’s shout reached them. As they cleared the next rise, the stench hit them. Izzy didn’t have to ask her wolf what it was. Some primal part of her brain recognized it and wanted to get the hell away from it.

  Death.

  With lead feet, she followed Luke into a dense copse of trees. Crows cawed and flapped in the branches, swooping back and forth in front of Dev and his son, where they crouched at the edge of a deep crevasse. Man and wolf wore identical, curled-lip expressions. Luke reached them, peered over the edge, and swore viciously.

  Izzy didn’t want to look. Whatever was down there was horrible and would stick with her for a long time, maybe forever. Didn’t she have enough nightmares? Yet her stupid, disobedient feet carried her onward, right to edge.

  Heart pounding, she fought the urge to look. And lost.

  Fifty feet below, the crows hopped and pecked at a jumbled pile. For one blessed second, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Then the puzzle pieces clicked together into a picture straight out of a horror film. Body parts—bones with hunks of bloody meat still attached—poked out of the snow. An arm flopped as the carrion eaters fought over it. One huge crow perched on the head of a man with short blond hair. The bird hopped to the ground, revealing the man’s face and the way the mouth hung open as if in a frozen scream. It struck Izzy like a bomb blast.

  She fell to her knees and retched as the memory of where she’d seen something similar stormed the walls she’d erected three years ago, and tore them down. He looked like the poor guy her sister had killed and so helpfully showed her in a suicide/cautionary video.

  Luke’s enraged roar scattered the jabbering birds. As they flew away, Izzy saw a deputy sheriff’s hat lying near the body.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  As they flew in Dev’s helicopter, over the mountains Luke loved so much, impotent rage sizzled in his veins. “I can’t fucking believe I left him,” Luke growled.

  They’d left Sam’s body behind. Sam’s, and the goddess only knew how many more.

  Like it mattered to Sam now. Besides, if Luke had been any kind of decent Alpha, he would have known when one of his wolves was killed. Hell, he should have felt that Sam was in trouble. Maybe they could have saved him.

  “Goddammit!” He banged his head against the back of his seat.

  From her place in the copilot’s seat, Isabelle turned to look at him. Throughout the flight back, she’d kept an eye on him like a rabbit watches a fox.

  There was a hollow ache in his chest now, where only this morning her light had filled him, burning bright. She was pulling away from him and their bond.

  It infuriated his wolf, but Luke couldn’t blame her. He was a disgrace and they’d just confirmed all her worst fears about lycanthropes: that death and violence were their stock in trade.

  Maybe she was right.

  “We’re going back, Alpha,” Davy said. He averted his eyes as he spoke. Wonderful. Now Luke was scaring his own wolves. “Once we have the right equipment and...” The younger male’s voice trailed off, bereft.

  “I should’ve stayed
with—” Grief choked off the rest of Luke’s words, too.

  “Sonofabitch!” Dev snapped a second later.

  “What?” Isabelle asked. “You still can’t raise anyone at the airfield?”

  “No. Or Dean either.”

  The hair on Luke’s neck stood on end. “Is something wrong with the radio?” Could they have been sabotaged, too? Below, the first ring of homes on the outskirts of town were coming into view. They were few and far between yet, but if Dev’s helicopter went down...

  Isabelle reached out and flipped some switches on the console in between her and Dev.

  “No,” Dev said. “I can hear and communicate with the other local towers. No one is answering at Townes.”

  “Shouldn’t you try to radio the sheriff’s station?” Davy asked.

  “Not yet,” Luke said. “I want to talk to Dean first. I’m going to try the cell.”

  He dialed his cousin’s number and let it ring until voicemail picked up. He ended the call and tried again. Each unanswered ring wound him tighter and tighter.

  He tried Rissa next.

  No answer.

  His mother, the pack house, Sarah.

  Nothing.

  “Fuck.”

  Isabelle and Davy had their phones out. She swore and stabbed the End Call button.

  “Mom’s not answering either,” Davy said.

  “I don’t like this,” Isabelle said.

  They were approaching the helipad at Townes Aviation. Luke’s truck was still parked in the lot, next to Dev’s. Everything looked quiet.

  Too quiet.

  “Where is everyone?” Luke asked. Marianne or Rick should be around, or at least one of the mechanics. But there were no other vehicles. The landing pad and surrounding area were empty.

  Dev circled the small airfield once, then maneuvered the helicopter over the tarmac. As they descended, Isabelle said, “I really don’t like this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Pull up! Pull up!” she shouted suddenly. “Gun—”

  Something hit the window next to Luke and the safety glass splintered. A piece of it flew across the cabin in front of him.

  The helo lurched up a dozen feet.

  Ping! on his door. Ping! on Davy’s.

  “What the—” Dev yelled, and they bucked to the left. If Luke hadn’t been strapped in, he would have been lying across Davy’s boots. More glass shattered in the cockpit. “Shit!”

  “Second shooter, ten o’clock. Go, go, go!” Isabelle said.

  Luke’s wolf was going nuts, barking warnings and demanding they protect their mate. “Get out of here, Dev!” he yelled.

  Suddenly, they dipped toward the ground and several more bullets struck the helicopter. The scent of blood rose in the air. The helo spun. Everyone was shouting.

  Everyone except Isabelle.

  “Taking the stick, Dev. Now,” she said in a calm, commanding voice that cut through the chaos.

  They jumped forward and up, and Luke was pushed back in his seat, like he’d launched from a rocket. For a few seconds, there was complete silence, except for the chop of the rotors and the wind whistling through the broken windows.

  “Anyone hit besides Dev?” Isabelle asked, again with that cool, professional voice.

  Luke’s stomach flipped over.

  Davy popped off his harness and lunged forward. “Dad!”

  “I’ll live,” Dev ground out. “Got me in the shoulder.”

  Isabelle unwound the scarf from around her neck and passed it to Dev. “Put pressure on that. You got a medical kit?”

  “In the back. Davy’s an EMT.”

  “Good. Davy, get the kit.”

  Davy scrambled to the rear of the cabin, allowing Luke the room to get up, too, and stick his head into the cockpit. He’d never really paid attention to how many buttons and switches were on the console before. Dozens. Millions. And then there were the souped-up joysticks and pedals.

  He stared at his mate’s fine-boned hands as they made minute adjustments to the sticks. He had no freaking clue what they did. She could be writing I hate werewolves in the sky for all he knew. But she looked one-hundred percent in control while she did whatever it was she was doing to keep them from falling from the sky.

  One more slow, deep breath and he was finally able to speak without snarling. Good thing, too, because the scent of blood and fear was ripe in the helicopter, and his wolf was at the end of his patience. “Are you hurt, sugar?”

  She glanced up at him, her eyes flat and unreadable. “No. You?”

  For a moment, he had the insane urge to grab her and give her a good shake. Wake her up. Or pull the plug on the robot who’d taken her place. Her vanilla-and-sugar scent was gone. Now she smelled like an icefall, all bitter-cold, stony anger. Whatever she was doing was destroying their mate bond.

  But once again, they had no time. It looked like they were racing down County Road 4, heading toward the lake. Good. “Take us to the pack house, Isabelle.”

  “We have to take my dad to the clinic,” Davy said, gently brushing past Luke. He ripped open a package of bandages and leaned over his father.

  Isabelle looked over at Dev, then shook her head. “No time,” she said, echoing Luke’s own thoughts.

  Luke scanned the land out the window. “If that was the reception waiting for us, what’s going on with everyone else?”

  * * *

  Izzy adjusted their altitude. What I wouldn’t give for my Black Hawk. Dev’s Huey was a great machine, but she wouldn’t mind an extra fifty miles per hour right now. And guns. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of miniguns.

  Because if anyone tried to hurt the Dodds...

  For a second, she considered arguing with Luke about where they should go, but the way his voice rang with certainty changed her mind.

  He rubbed his knuckles against his sternum, as if trying to ease an ache. For some reason, her own chest hurt, too, like a block of ice had taken up residence where her heart should be. After a moment, she asked, “Which way?”

  Dev gave her directions. “Thank you,” he said when he was through. “I was too slow. If you hadn’t been here—”

  She waved away his thanks. “Ever fly combat?”

  “Nah. Not unless you count battling Mother Nature.”

  “I do,” she said, knowing how hard and dangerous it was to be a search-and-rescue pilot. She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of training. That’s all.”

  “And experience,” Dev said, his voice strained. “I didn’t even see those guys until they were already shooting.”

  She glanced at him and saw sweat beading on his upper lip despite the chill in the aircraft. He seemed to sense her scrutiny, because he said, “I’ll be fine.”

  Luke stuck his head into the cockpit. “Smells like that bullet is silver.”

  He can smell that?

  “Doesn’t matter,” Dev said.

  The two males stared at each other, their expressions grim. Finally, Luke laid a hand on Dev’s uninjured shoulder and nodded once. Izzy recognized a soldier’s determination when she saw it. Hopefully, it would last them through the day, because she had a terrible feeling things were only going to get worse.

  “Luke,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to tell him. Would he even believe her? “There was more than one guy back at the airfield.”

  “I heard you say there was a second shooter.”

  “I saw at least four guys. There were two in the hangar. One of them had a rifle. The guy who shot Dev was in the shed, and another was in the conference room window.” She took a deep breath. “I recognized that one.”

  A growl rose over the rotor chop. “Who?”

  “Rick.”

  Three male voices erupted at once.

  “What?”

  “Are you
kidding?”

  “You left him there?” Davy shouted. “We have to go back.”

  Izzy shook her head. The horrified look on Luke’s face made her want to give him some comforting lie. But she didn’t. It could mean the difference between his life and death. “He had a handgun—”

  “Which he obviously needed to protect himself,” Davy said.

  “No, kid,” she said, her voice a hard slash. “Rick had a gun and he pointed it right at us.” She leaned forward and tapped a crack on the windshield. If Rick had had a more powerful weapon or had a better angle, she might be bleeding out right now.

  “Are you positive?” Luke asked. His voice sounded strangely hollow.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s a dead man.”

  Despite his obvious fury, the wolf was nowhere to be seen in his dark green eyes. They were hard and cold and utterly bleak. She almost reached out to him, wanting to wipe that look from his face. But she kept both hands firmly on the controls, the ice around her heart throbbing with cold.

  The mission—finding and protecting her family—was all that mattered now.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Luke stared at the cracks spreading out from the pit in the windshield. He hadn’t realized until Isabelle tapped the spot—right in front of her—that he was capable of cold-blooded murder. When he found Rick...

  The bastard’s life was over.

  Dev slapped his palm against the door frame. “Sonofabitch!”

  “What?” Isabelle asked, scanning the landscape.

  “Vaughn,” Dev said. “If Izzy’s right about Rick, then we can’t trust the search assignments.” He turned to face Luke. “Rick’s been assigning the search areas, not Liz. He told us that Vaughn had searched the ridge where we found Sam. But what if...”

  What if Luke had misjudged not only Rick, but Vaughn as well? And in his heart, he knew he had. Because even though he knew better, Luke had bought into the mistrust and superstitions about a dual shifter.

  Dear goddess, forgive him.

  “Vaughn’s probably dead,” Luke said, his wolf keening. “No one has seen or heard from him since the night before last.”