by C. T. Adams
PRAISE FOR THE WORLD OF THE SAZI
Hunter’s Moon
“I read the book in one sitting. A world this enjoyable deserves more than one visit. This book has some new twists in the werewolf’s tail that are very cool.”
—Laurell K. Hamilton
“This unusual, artfully constructed, and enticing blend of horror and romance will have wide appeal with its male point of view, intensely sexy love story, and caperlike action.”
—Booklist
“This incredible novel is inventive, totally riveting, as well as surprisingly tender in spots. Adams and Clamp are a powerhouse team that has opened the door to an amazing new world.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
(4 ½ stars, Top Pick)
“Filled with an abrasive charm, intriguing characters, and a dry wit, Hunter’s Moon is a must-read for the fall season.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Moon’s Web
“Adams and Clamp are adept at writing intensely sensuous, hot lovemaking scenes, but where they really shine is in the creation of an unforgettable world where secret shapeshifters live, love, and scheme. Laurell K. Hamilton readers will enjoy this edgy world.”
—Booklist
“It’s only taken two books for the dynamic duo of Adams and Clamp to cement their position as premier authors of paranormal fiction. Gritty and unique, with amazingly Byzantine character development, this inside look at the unconventional world of shapeshifters is a page-turner in the truest sense.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
(4 ½ stars, Gold-Medal Top Pick)
“It’s rare when a second book surpasses the first, but Moon’s Web explodes onto the scene, earning a Perfect 10. If you’re a fan of Laurell K. Hamilton or Kelley Armstrong, Moon’s Web is definitely a book for you!”
—Romance Reviews Today
Captive Moon
“Firmly grounding these extraordinary characters in the modern world helps increase the emotional stakes in the gripping Sazi reality. Like few others, Adams and Clamp’s writing style successfully blends romance, adventure, and the magical. As their latest confirms, this outstanding duo is unbeatable!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Howling Moon
“After being a dangerous footnote in previous books, the true evil of Sazi serial killer Jack Simpson is now revealed. Layer by layer Adams and Clamp build their compelling Sazi world with its strict laws that give this unique universe dramatic shape and form. Besides captivating plots, it is the rich, dark characterizations that make these books distinctive and mesmerizing. True genre luminaries!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Howling Moon is a fantastic story! Authors C. T. Adams and Cathy Clamp just keep getting better and better…. [Howling Moon] is a true masterpiece and a joy to read.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
PARISE FOR THE WORLD OF THE THRALL
Touch of Evil
“Unveiling a new paranormal series, the brilliant team of Adams and Clamp crafts an exceedingly intriguing heroine trying to survive a dangerous and complex world. Told in first person, the resilient Kate’s struggles and choices are both vivid and terrifying. This is an unbeatably good paranormal!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
(4 1/2 stars, Top Pick)
“Adams and Clamp are adept at incorporating riveting plot twists into this fully imagined world, and they don’t stint on the romance.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Touch of Evil receives The Road to Romance Reviewers’ Choice Award for the great writing of the author duo C. T. Adams and Cathy Clamp. This book has it all and more. Readers don’t want to miss this perfect example of fantastically vivid paranormal fiction.”
—The Road to Romance
Moon’s
Fury
C. T. ADAMS
and CATHY CLAMP
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK
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Dedication and Acknowledgments
First, as with all of our books, we dedicate this novel to Don Clamp and James Adams, who have stuck with us through thick and thin! You guys are wonderful and we love you! Then (again, as always) to our wonderful agent, Merrilee Heifetz, and terrific editor, Anna Genoese—both of whom continue to help us grow and shine! Next, we’d like to thank some specific people for their help in pulling this book together: Lupe M. Gonzalez of San Antonio Romance Authors (SARA) for tirelessly helping us put together the terrific Salinas Tejano family of Santa Helena over the course of many months. Super big thanks also to those absolutely wonderful, helpful, inspiring, caring, friendly, and downright great officers of the www.realpolice.netforums. (They made us say that, but they’re right!) Comprised entirely of working LEOs (law enforcement officers) they answered all of our “stupid author questions” without laughing—at least not in print to our virtual faces. Special thanks to P01IC3M4N, whoever you are and whatever Texas badge might grace your shirt in real life. Also, big thanks to the biologists of the Red Wolf Recovery Program of the Wolf Education and Research Center for their help in writing the differences between timber and red wolves. Finally, a big thanks to the rangers at the South Llano State Park, who were incredibly friendly and knowledgeable about the area. Several threads of the book came out of chats with them.
Authors’ Note
Moon’s Fury is set down here where we live in the Texas Hill Country, and Texans are notorious for wanting the state’s history told properly. So, we had to do a lot of research just to insert a few bits and pieces in the book.
For those present and former Texans keeping track, this book is set in the fictional town of Santa Helena, the county seat of the also fictional Tedford County. Santa Helena and Tedford County are located in the wide-open spaces between South Llano State Park and Devils Sinkhole S.N.A., pulling corners from Sutton, Edwards, Kimble, and a tiny bit of Real counties.
In keeping with state tradition, we named the county after John Tedford, the county sheriff of nearby Kerr County from 1870 to ’76, who gained “hero” status in the state when he defended the small town of Camp Verde against a band of Comanches intent on burning it down for several hours before help arrived. He permanently lost the use of an arm from an arrow in the process, but still managed to continue to serve as sheriff for his full term!
Cara’s wolf pack are Mexican red wolves, which used to inhabit the Texas Hill Country, but are presently presumed extinct. Red wolves are smaller and faster than timber wolves, and better adapted to the hot climate, all of which we used in the book. They are also a threatened species in most parts of the world, but on the road to recovery in several places. Researching red wolves took a really long time, and included conversations with wolf experts at several locations.
Chapter 1
CARA PRESSED DOWN harder on the accelerator as she replayed the phone message in her mind. I hope you can make it here before I’m gone. The old man’s voice had sounded shaky and out of breath, which worried her. He’d always been such a tough old bird. She flipped the switch to turn on her cherries, but not the siren, and watched the lone vehicle in front of her on the highway dutifully pull into the em
ergency lane and slow to let the sheriff’s truck pass.
Sheriff. She still hadn’t gotten used to the title—even if it was only temporary, until Carl recovered from his stroke.
The sun was low on the horizon, making the clouds bleed with fiery intensity over the towering live oak trees lining the highway. By the time she reached Ten Bears’s tiny hut, it would be full dark. She hated climbing that steep path to his house at night, and the sky smelled of rain—the bad kind. Nothing like a flash flood to spur a girl on.
Great.
A flickering light far ahead on the left caught her eye just before she spotted the red stain and a limp furred body sporting a massive rack of antlers in the opposite lane. She hit the sirens, because headlights shouldn’t be looking out from the middle of a field and bobbing up and down.
Picking up her radio she hit the button as the car behind her disappeared into the distance. “Dispatch, T-2… I mean, T-1, southbound on 377, at mile marker… aw, hell, someone snapped it off… let’s say about fourteen miles out of town, rolling code. We’ve got a 10-50… deer flip with possible injuries.”
Maggie’s voice was calm and professional. “Dispatching an ambulance now, Sheriff, and calling for backup. I just saw Dave’s trooper car pull in at the Branding Iron. Want me to notify Texas Highway Patrol and wait for them to reach him, or should I just call the restaurant? You know how bad the radio reception is before a storm. I’m probably going to lose you in a minute.”
“Copy that. Call the restaurant. Good catch. I’ll secure the scene and set some flares. It’s almost dark and on a blind curve. Oh, and see if y’all can dig up a number for Sam Kerchee and call him. Apparently, he finally broke down and bought a cell phone. If he needs medical assistance, get T-6 over there, stat. If not, then tell him I’ll be late for our meeting. T-1 out.”
She parked well off the road, leaving on her lightbar to warn other drivers, then sprinted across the highway and down the embankment—sniffing carefully as she stepped through the knee-deep grass and weeds for the distinctive dusty scent of any of the variety of rattlers that lived in the region. It was hard to smell anything over the deer musk and blood that hovered in the still air, but she fought past the hunger the rising moon caused. Tonight she had to be a cop first, a werewolf second. Company would be arriving soon and she couldn’t afford to get distracted.
“Hello? ¿Hola? Can anyone hear me?” Cara couldn’t see any bodies in or around the vehicle as she walked toward it and couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad. But then the sound of shallow, ragged breathing and a small whimper made her turn her flashlight away from the black SUV to the nearby brush. There, nearly hidden in the mesquite and cactus was the pale, red-stained arm of a child who must have been thrown from the vehicle. In seconds, Cara was by her side, checking her for injuries.
Still clutching a soiled pink Care Bear in one hand, the girl, who appeared to be about seven, opened her eyes slightly and tried to focus. “Mommy?”
She touched the girl’s blonde hair lightly and moved the flashlight around, looking for broken bones or deep cuts. Other than a variety of scratches and embedded cactus spines, she seemed remarkably healthy. “No, honey. My name’s Cara, and I’m a dep—the sheriff. Y’all had a little accident. Were you driving with your mommy? Was there anyone else in the car with you? What’s your name?”
The girl nodded and tears welled as she finally noticed the uniform and badge. “Brittany Foster, ma’am. Me and Mommy are going to Grammy’s house.” The light twang in her voice had a regional flavor that said she lived somewhere nearby. Her little chin started to quiver. “Where’s Mommy? My leg hurts.” The thick, wet scent of her fear was giving way to ammonia panic. Not good.
Cara kept her movements light and calm and took a quick sniff of the leg. Then she scanned the ground for any evidence of fire ant mounds or other wildlife that might have bitten the girl before replying. “You just got some cactus spines in your leg, Brittany. You’ve had that happen before, haven’t you? I’ve got some tweezers in the car and we can fix you right up. Y’all just stay right here, don’t move, and I’ll go get your mommy. Okay? You keep—what’s your teddy’s name?”
A sniffle and a nod said Brittany understood. “Mr. Bear. He falls in the cactus a lot, but he never cries when Mommy pulls the stickers out.”
Pulling a small penlight from her utility belt, Cara turned it on and handed it to the girl. “Well, Mr. Bear is very brave, ’cause I know those spines can hurt. Now, you stay right here in the light and make sure Mr. Bear doesn’t get scared while I go get your mommy. I want you to listen for sirens for me, okay? They’re going to come and put your car back on the road so y’all can get to your Grammy’s house.”
Brittany nodded and started to play with the flashlight, turning it toward her surroundings. Cara hated leaving the girl alone, but she had to find the mother. The SUV had finally stopped rocking on its roof. She played the bright beam of the flashlight around the wrecked vehicle, searching for the driver. The pungent odor of dripping antifreeze and gasoline made it impossible for her to smell the woman. “Ms. Foster? Can you hear me? Please answer if you can hear me.”
No sound other than punctuated hisses from drops of hot fluid on the engine block met her ears. One entire side of the vehicle was buried in a mass of young mesquite trees, making it difficult to see. She crawled down on her belly under the branches and played the light around—
There she was!
Cara shook her head slightly in the small space. She was also thrown from the vehicle when it flew off the road. The car must have flipped and landed right on the woman… well, actually not much more than a teenager, and a mirror image of the girl. She was alive, but unconscious and bleeding badly from a cut on her forehead. And the roof of the vehicle was resting right on her pelvis and legs. “Motherf—”
A tentative voice from the darkness made her cut off what she was going to say. “Mother? Cara? Did you find Mommy?”
She wiggled backward, ignoring the multitude of mesquite spines that ripped at her hair and shirt, thinking desperately. “I sure did, Brittany. But she’s sort of stuck, so I have to help her out of the car. You just stay right there, ’kay? Don’t come over here, because there’s antifreeze all over the ground. It’ll make you sick.” If she acted quickly, there was a chance to not only save the woman’s üfe, but also to ensure she didn’t wind up in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
She’d never tried to use her Sazi magic to lift an entire car. She was barely alpha enough to lead her pack and hold the members in an emergency. Still, it would only have to be for a few moments until she could drag the woman out from underneath.
Or… hmm, maybe the reverse would work better.
She walked around to the back of the vehicle and inspected the terrain with the flashlight. Yes, that could work. If she braced her back against the massive live oak butting up nearly to the rear bumper, she could lift the entire car and then use her magic to move the woman.
But there would be a witness. There was no way she could pull this off without the girl seeing, and humans didn’t know the Sazi existed.
To protect and serve.
Cara played the light over the woman’s still, barely breathing form. There was no escaping her duty. She had to risk it. “Brittany, honey. I need you to turn off the flashlight for a minute, ’cause it’s making it hard for me to see. Can you do that for me?”
There was a long pause and she knew the girl was getting scared again. Her voice was barely audible and trembling a little, obviously wondering what was happening and why her mommy wasn’t talking. “Okay.” The light went out and she breathed a sigh.
“Now, this door is going to be really hard to get open and it’s gonna make a lot of noise. But you need to trust me. Just ignore what I’m doing and you keep listening for the sirens. Tell me if you hear them, and I’ll have your mommy out in just a second.”
The girl’s voice was getting panicked again, rising and falli
ng with a singsong, breathy quality. “Cara? Mr. Bear is scared of the dark.”
She was going to have to make this quick, or the girl would come over looking for her mom. There was no way she was going to let her see her trapped under the car. “Um, do you know any songs, Brittany? Sometimes singing in the dark helps… bears that are scared. Do you know the song about the spider climbing the water spout?”
Cara braced her back against the trunk of the old oak and spread her arms wide enough to grab both sides of the car, digging in her fingers with enough supernatural strength to bend the metal slightly. She had to keep hold of the frame. She couldn’t afford for the bumper to shear away, causing her to drop the vehicle back on the woman. With a barely audible grunt, she dug in her heels and began to lift.
“Uh-huh. Grammy has a CD with lots of songs. I know all of them.”
Forcing her voice to remain calm was the hardest thing she’d ever done as the vehicle began to move. “Okay, then why don’t you sing it for me? I don’t remember the words too well. But I’ll join in and then your mommy can, too.”
The girl’s pure, clear soprano filled the night. “Eensie weensie spider, climbed up the—”
Cara forced her mind away from the song to concentrate on keeping the vehicle level. It was trying to fall forward to its heaviest point—the engine. But she couldn’t let that happen. She forced her elbows to lock so the roof wouldn’t shift or fall over onto the woman’s chest. She felt her muscles ache and then begin to burn as she lifted the entire vehicle a fraction of an inch.
“—washed the spider out! Out came—c’mon Cara. You said you’d sing with me.”
Sweat rolled down her forehead and she panted out a few words. “Finish it once for me first. ’Kay?”
