MOONLIGHT LEGACY

by Jewel Dartt

  She shrank away from his touch. "No. I mean yes. I don't know what he'll do, I can't think right now."

  "Oh, you've thought about it, and you know it's true. Hadden McNeal will come for you and he will die, I assure you, for his efforts." He tilted her chin and stared deeply into her eyes. "Unless you can convince him to turn away from you and not look back. You hold his life in your hands, my love. And your actions will decide his fate."

  * * *

  Steven glanced over at the speedometer with a worried frown. "Would you please slow down, Hadden?"

  Hadden shot his friend an irritated look. "Would you please stop telling me to slow down, for Christ's sake? I know what I'm doing."

  "Well, that may be true, but I don't mind telling you I have my doubts about whether you do or not. Ever since we left the valley you've been pushing this pick-up truck at ninety miles an hour. Just how long do you think it will hold up under this abuse?"

  "As long as necessary," Hadden ground out. "You know you could have stayed back there with the sheriff. I don't need you nagging me right now. Not with Miranda in God knows what kind of danger."

  "I'm not nagging, Hadden, but you won't do her any good if you crash somewhere on the side of a mountain. Slow down before you kill us both or get us both put in jail for trying to break the speed record."

  Hadden let out a sigh and eased his foot off the gas pedal slightly. "Hell, I'm sorry for snapping at you like that, Steven. I know you're just trying to help, but I feel such an intense sense of urgency to reach Miranda before its too late."

  Steven adjusted his glasses, his body relaxing somewhat as Hadden slowed down a bit more. "Do you think Drake will harm her in some way?"

  Hadden shook his head. "I'm not sure. I just have this feeling, and I can't seem to shake it. I have to get her back, Steven. I just have to."

  "And what if she doesn't want to come back with you? Have you thought about that?" Steven asked quietly. "Are you positive we're doing the right thing in going after her? After all, she is more their kind than ours. How do you know that this is not best for all concerned?"

  Hadden shot him a hard look. "What the hell is the matter with you? I thought you were all for getting her out of that damn town and bringing her back home."

  Steven cracked the window, letting in a cool breeze, before answering. "I'm just playing devil's advocate, Hadden. It is possible that Miranda would rather stay in, now that she is there. We have to consider that possibility."

  Hadden snorted. "Didn't you hear what Norman said? Drake forced her to accompany him. She didn't go of her own free will, and you know it."

  "I know that, but what if she's had time to think about it and realized it's the right decision—the only option she really has left?"

  "No way, man. She has another option. Me. I don't give a damn if she grows horns and dances in the light of the moon every night for the rest of our lives, I love her and want to be with her. Can you understand that? I have to try, Steven. Miranda has to know that it doesn't matter if we never find a cure for her, I'll still love her and want her. Somehow—some way we'll work through this damn nightmare and get on with our lives, come what may. Her parents managed to have a life, and we can too if we try."

  "And if she doesn't feel that is possible? Will you accept her decision?"

  Hadden pressed his lips into a firm line. "Yes, if I have too. But…"

  Hadden broke off in mid-sentence, and uttered a curse as he wrenched the wheel hard to the right. He pumped the brakes to the floor, and a shiver of fear ran up his spine as the pedal went to the floor and still the pick-up truck didn't slow down.

  Headlights from the opposite direction were coming at him, swaying drunkenly across the yellow line into his lane. Dammit, it was coming at him way too fast.

  Steven's voice rang out in alarm. "Watch out, Hadden!"

  Hadden fought the wheel to regain control, but it was too late. The pick-up truck veered toward the guardrail and crashed through, sailing through the night air. Hadden heard Steven cry out in pain, as they landed, the vehicle tumbling down the mountain in hard, body wrenching jerks.

  "Miranda…" Hadden cried out her name in a scream of anguish as he realized he was going to die, and then blackness washed over him and swept him to the very depths of despair. All was lost. Forgive me, my darling…

  Chapter 16

  * * *

  "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Drake?" Lianne asked, her green eyes flashing fire, her tiny hands atop her slim boyish hips. "You have no right to come in here in the middle of the night and demand a council meeting without warning any of us."

  Drake smiled and gestured for her to sit on the overstuffed sofa in his parlor. He frowned when she crossed her arms in front of her and shook her head, her long hair flying.

  "You forget that as leader of our pack I can damn well call a meeting any time I feel it is necessary. Besides this isn't just a meeting, we're going to have a wedding. Congratulate me, sister dear, I'm getting married."

  Lianne gaped at him. "A wedding? Have you gone mad? Don't tell me you really plan on going through with this insane notion of yours?"

  A frown gathered on his smooth brow. "I thought I made my intentions perfectly clear to you back in Silver Valley. Miranda is upstairs resting, and before the sun comes up I intend to make her my wife and life long mate."

  Lianne tossed back her hair. "And what about her half-breed status? Do you really think you can force us to accept her as one of our own kind?"

  Drake's expression hardened. "Make no mistake, she is one of us now, and she will be a Guignard before sunrise."

  "But…"

  He waved her silent. "Your objections are no longer valid, little sister. Miranda is still sane and has weathered her transformations without changing into the half-crazed monster you so feared."

  "And how do you know it still won't happen? She's not finished the cycle yet. Anything could happen."

  He shook his head. "No it won't."

  Her green eyes bored into him. "And how can you be so certain?"

  He walked over to the big bay window and looked out into the darkness. He was getting tired of being put through this third degree. He let out a sigh before he turned back to his little sister. "Because I've seen her display remarkable restraint during her metamorphosis state. She abhors the killing lust and won't even use it against your puny humans. So I don't think you need worry she will turn it on us."

  "The council will not sanction this marriage, Drake. You know that."

  Anger surged through him at her words. "I don't give a damn whether they sanction it or not. They will attend nevertheless to bear witness to the ceremony, just as you will, my dear sister."

  Lianne studied him for a moment before she spoke. "You really think that's all it will take to end the feuding between us? An old contract that isn't worth the ink that was used to write it? Do you?" Her eyes flashed with anger. "No, the fight will still rage on until we have convinced everyone in Damaina that the old ways are wrong. Human life is worth saving, and we have to stop thinking of them as nothing but prey."

  He moved forward and grabbed her arm. "No. It won't end the conflict, but it's a start. I'll worry about it later, Lianne, once Miranda and I are married."

  She shook off his hand. "Dammit, Drake, you're blind to anything that doesn't suit your purposes. Damaina will never be the same place it once was, no matter what you do. We live in enlightened times, and we must adapt, or we will not survive." Her face took on a distant look. "Someday, the humans will find out about us and destroy us for the monsters they believe we are. We can keep that from happening if we act now and mend our ways."

  He snorted. "By joining the enemy? No. I don't think so. We must keep ourselves separate and use them only to boost our powers."

  Lianne threw her hands up in disgust. "I don't want to argue about this now. Tell me about Miranda. Is she going through this farce of a wedding willingly?"

  Drake gave her a smu
g smile. "But of course, little sister. I wouldn't have it any other way."

  She turned to go but then turned back, and looked at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes. "You want to know what I think?"

  He shrugged. "Not particularly, but I suppose you will tell me anyway."

  "I think you want Miranda for yourself, and it has nothing to do with the politics of Damaina," his sister said, and then hesitated for a moment. "Somewhere along the way, despite all your scheming, you've fallen in love with her, and now you're determined to have her no matter what havoc your decision may cause the rest of us."

  Irritated by her words, he turned away from her, and walked back over to the window. He played with the edge of the satin curtain that draped the window absently. "Don't be ridiculous. Miranda Slate is simply a means to an end. She is my key to controlling your foolish movement. Nothing more." He managed to keep his voice cool and unemotional.

  "Who are you trying to convince more, Drake? Me or yourself?"

  "I don't wish to discuss this matter any longer," he said, his voice firm. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to go upstairs and help my bride prepare for the ceremony, I'd be eternally grateful."

  A sigh escaped her. "All right, Drake. I'll go, but let me leave you with one thought. That doctor of hers will come after her, and when he does, what are you going to do then?"

  He turned away from the window, one brow lifted in surprise. "How do you know about him?"

  Lianne smiled knowingly. "Oh, I picked up a few things while I was in Silver Valley."

  Drake shook his head. "He no longer is in the picture. If he has the courage to come here, then he will see for himself that she no longer wants him. I'm sure it will pain him terribly but he will get over it, I assure you, little sister." His face took on a coldness that frightened her. "Miranda belongs to me, and he will have to accept that indisputable fact, or face the consequences." Then he waved her out of the room. "Now go and help my bride-to-be. I grow weary of your endless prattle."

  After she'd left, he walked over to the bar and poured himself a shot of Irish whiskey. He drank it down quickly, the smooth burn of the liquor soothing his ruffled nerves. So far everything was going as planned. His thoughts turned to what Lianne had said. He hated to admit it, but Lianne was right. Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love with Miranda. Never in a hundred years would he have thought it was possible, not after Angelique. Even Cassandra had only been a means to an end. His marriage to her would have reunited his clan, but now he wasn't sure if marrying her daughter would achieve the same goal.

  Things had changed over the years in Damaina, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. Perhaps his fight was hopeless, and in the end Lianne and the others would win. Strangely enough, he didn't feel the rage he usually felt at such an absurd idea. He wondered if that had to do with Miranda and the human blood that ran in her veins.

  Goddammit, no. He couldn't let his feelings for her cloud his mind. He had to remember why he was marrying her, and keep fighting the ones who wanted to convince him and the few others who stood with him to follow their ways.

  "What in damnation do you think you're doing, Drake?"

  He turned at the sound of his name to see an older man coming toward him. Oh no, that was all he needed right now. A confrontation with Miranda's only living blood relative. It was going to be a long night.

  "Why did you bring my granddaughter here?" The gray-haired gentlemen asked, his voice harsh and demanding. "I had no idea when you left you were going after Miranda."

  "You know why, Adam."

  The man gave him an incredulous stare. "You can't seriously mean to make her carry out the contract I signed years ago? You know Cassandra would not have wanted that."

  A muscle in Drake's cheek jumped. He was getting sick and damned tired of other people meddling in his business. "Adam, I don't really care what Cassandra would have wanted. She didn't honor the contract, and her daughter will. That is the end of the matter."

  The old man gave him a sad look. "No. It's not the end of anything. I never should have signed that contract. I was stupid to think it would bring peace to our pack. I lost my only child because of it and now my granddaughter…"

  Drake cut in smoothly. "And now your granddaughter will be able to help me accomplish what Cassandra would not."

  Adam shook his bushy head. "This is wrong."

  Drake took his arm and led him to the foot of the stairs in the foyer. "No, it's right. And now, your granddaughter is upstairs. Would you like to meet her?"

  A look of longing appeared on the older man's wrinkled features. "Yes, but…"

  Drake smiled and gave him a gentle nudge. He knew how much Adam had wanted to see his granddaughter over the years. Now he had the chance. The man should be thanking me instead of berating me, he thought grimly. "No buts," he said. "Go see your granddaughter, Adam."

  * * *

  Mary Ellen Campbell shifted her body slightly in the torn leather seat. Elaine's old truck wasn't the best vehicle in the world to make a comfortable road trip, but it would have to do. She let out a sigh tinged with pain and shifted again, trying to ease the ache in her bones.

  "Mother, are you in pain? Perhaps we should go back home and forget this wild goose hunt you took us on."

  "Don't get sassy with me, girl," Mary Ellen said. "I'm still not too old to go where I'm needed and don't you forget that, little girl. Now, you just keep on driving, and quit worrying about me."

  And then that's when she saw her again…the ghost in her dream. Her eyes. Her beautiful haunted eyes tore at the old woman's heart. Never had she seen such sorrow. Such pain.

  She was standing in the middle of the asphalt, pointing toward the drop-off. Mary Ellen sat up straighter and leaned forward, her sharp eyes taking in the skid marks, and the broken guardrail caught in the wide swath of the truck's headlights.

  "Stop the truck," she shouted, startling her daughter into swerving off the road. Gravel pebbled the underside of the truck as Elaine yanked it back onto the asphalt.

  "What the hell is the matter with you? You almost caused me to wreck."

  "Elaine, stop the truck this minute."

  "But why?"

  "Just do it, dammit."

  "Mother…"

  Mary Ellen smiled at the shock in her daughter's voice. But the curse worked, and Elaine slowed down and jerked the wheel to the right, steering the ancient truck carefully over to the shoulder.

  She turned off the ignition and reached for the knob to turn off the headlights. Mary Ellen grabbed her hand, stopping her daughter in mid-motion. "No…leave them on, we'll need them to see by."

  Elaine let out an explosive sigh, and shook her mother's fragile hand off. "See what, Mother? I don't see anything but an empty highway. What is it that I'm supposed to see?"

  Mary Ellen didn't bother answering. She wrenched open the door-handle and got out, her movements slow and awkward. Damn this infernal arthritis, she thought. It gnawed at her bones forever, making her feel old and worn out. Her time would come soon—she could feel it in the very depths of her soul. Soon she would join her beloved husband who'd died so many long years ago. The thought cheered her as she made her way to the overlook. The sound of the truck door slamming shut brought her attention back to the present and her mission.

  A few moments later she felt the touch of her daughter's hand on her back. "Please tell me what's going on. I don't understand you at all, Mother. Why did we stop out here in the middle of nowhere? I thought it was urgent we get to Damaina, instead…"

  Mary Ellen waved her quiet. "Hush, child, and listen."

  "Listen to what, for God's sake?" Elaine said angrily. "I swear, Mother, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were senile."

  Mary Ellen waved her quiet again, then frowned as she moved closer to the broken rail, her gaze searching the darkness. A smile broke across her mouth, and she raised a trembling finger to point down the incline at the broken pick-up truck, halfway down the rocky s
lope. It was clearly visible in the starlit night. "Yes…There…do you see it?"

  Elaine leaned forward, her eyes rounding in alarm. "Oh my God." She moved in closer and shouted. "Is anyone down there?"

  "Yeah, here." A muffled shout floated upward, but one the older woman recognized.

  "She was right," she muttered.

  Elaine looked at her. "What?" And then she shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Stay here, Mother. I'm going down and see if I can help who ever is down there."

  "Dr. McNeal is down there."

  Elaine froze and gave her a surprised look. "How do you know who is down there?"

  Her mother smiled. "You should know by now that I have my ways, child. And you could too if you'd only accept the gift."

  Elaine rolled her eyes and started down the incline, and then paused for a moment. "Oh for Heaven's sake, Mother, don't start, this isn't the place to rehash our old disagreements."

  "I agree. Go see to the doctor and his friend. I'll wait here for you."

  Elaine nodded and started down again.

  The older woman leaned forward and shouted, her voice tight with anxiety. "Hurry, child, hurry. There's not much time left."

  * * *

  Hadden's vision blurred as he stared up at the tall woman standing over him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her. He closed his eyes as a pain jabbed behind his eyes. He wondered if he had a mild concussion.

  Her hair. Where had he seen such wild and unruly hair? And then he remembered. Elaine Campbell.

  "You…" he sputtered, "how did…"

  She knelt down beside him and touched the side of his forehead. "It doesn't matter. You have a large bump there. Are you all right?"

  He shook his head to clear it, and immediately wished he hadn't as a pain stabbed through the back of his head.

  "Yeah, I'll live. It's my friend I'm worried about. I found him unconscious, and he's still not come around yet." He gestured toward the pick-up truck. The smell of gasoline lingered, heavy in the night air. "I managed to drag him out of the pick-up truck, but I was afraid to try and get him up the hill without help. I don't know yet how badly he's hurt."