Dark Moon Falls: Volume 2

by Bella Roccaforte

  This woman appeared to know a thing or two about hiding her tracks. Whether this was something she’d learned in recent days while running from Aldrich, or if it was part of her own history, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was he was terribly glad she was smart enough to follow his lead without asking dumb questions, and even smarter to pre-empt her own movements.

  He felt like an asshole leaving her alone and she must have sensed his reluctant because she called out in a loud whisper. “You’d better go. I just realized I need to pee really bad. Best if you’re not around for that. Not particularly attractive, ya know?”

  He chuckled and turned off the path before shifting into his wolf form. His paws hit dirt and he let out a low breath, his wolf reveling in taking his natural form.

  He moved swiftly around half a dozen trees but didn’t immediately head down the mountain. He wasn’t stupid. The last thing he needed was to leave her vulnerable. As much as he was pretty sure they weren’t followed on their way up the mountain, Frankie was right.

  Some supernaturals didn’t leave a trail, didn’t even show themselves until they pounced on their prey. So he did a quick perimeter check, scenting the air along the worn away track, sniffing the breeze as it wafted up the mountain. After satisfying himself that she’d be safe for a few minutes, Ciaran turned and sped down the mountain, swerving this way and that, the nails on his paws clicking as he sprang off boulders, the air flattening his fur as he ducked beneath low-hanging branches.

  He moved with speed that even normal wolves didn’t possess, reaching the disguised truck within minutes. He’d taken care not to reveal his presence within the brush, and he waited for a long moment before he stepped out onto the path that ran beside the hidden truck.

  He padded around the truck, found a narrow slot in the branches and leaves, then wriggled inside until he reached the front door of the truck. He shifted quickly back to human form as he hadn’t exactly left any windows open for easy access.

  Slipping his key from his jeans pocket he silently unlocked the front door then reached into the back of the cab. He spotted the brown paper bag that contained the boxed cakes and the thermos of coffee—which would probably be cold by now.

  Ciaran snuck out of the cab and set the bag onto the ground. He was about to shift back to wolf form when an odd sound drifted to his ears. The crackle of a two-way radio perhaps? Something on the airwaves that didn’t sound natural.

  Someone was on the mountain. His immediate assumption was they’d been followed but he had to keep his head. This mountain was open to trampers as well. He couldn’t just go attacking innocent tourists because he was on edge.

  He went still, crouching low as he listened, half formed wolf ears peaking as he waited for the sounds again. He spent a long few minutes waiting but heard nothing. Had he imagined it? He shook his head.

  No, it hadn’t been his imagination. Someone was definitely on the mountain. Friend or foe, he couldn’t yet be sure, which meant he had to be more careful than ever to keep his and Leira’s presence a secret.

  Shifting smoothly back into his wolf form, he clamped his teeth down onto the top fold of the bag then eased up when the paper back crackled softly. No need to alert anyone, in case he’d been right about hearing something in the vicinity.

  He slunk slipped out from beneath the camouflage and crawled into the brush, keeping close to the ground as much as possible as he made his way up the mountain. All fine for a tourist to witness a wolf running along the trails but one carrying a brown paper bag from a coffee shop would be a reason to talk.

  It took him a lot longer to return to Leira than he’d initially expected, and was relieved to finally return to the twin trees where he’d asked her to hide. When he moved closer to her and caught her gaze, all he saw was relief. No accusation. And he felt a ripple of relief himself, glad she wasn’t angry with him for taking longer.

  But why should he care if she was angry at all? Her mood was none of his business. He had a job to do, which was to protect her. And keep her alive. Crouching down beside her, he settled the bag on the uneven ground and smiled.

  Keeping his voice low, he said, “Sorry. I took a little longer than expected.”

  “Did something happen?”

  Ciaran hesitated, instinctively wanting to lie to her but something in her eyes made him answer. “I thought I heard something while I was in the truck. I wanted to wait and make sure it wasn’t something other than an innocent tramper.”

  “And?” she asked, opening the paper bag to peer inside.

  As she laid out the cardboard containers and the thermos with two paper cups, he said, “And I’m not sure. I didn’t hear the sound again which isn’t a guarantee that I heard wrong.”

  “Did you use your wolfy senses?” she asked, smirking. She was teasing him and oddly enough he found himself smiling back, comfortable with her poking fun at him.

  “Yeah. They were at one hundred percent. I waited but heard nothing afterward to imply anything untoward. I moved slower getting back here, just to be extra careful.”

  Leira poured the coffee and sipped it, making a face for a brief second.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  She hesitated then shook her head, an odd look in her eyes. “No. In fact, it’s still pretty warm.” She handed him her cup. “Here. It’s not hot enough to burn you though.”

  He took the cup and frowned. The thermos was good enough at its job but it wasn’t capable of retaining this king of heat for so long without help. Had the waitress made them both new hot coffees instead of sending Leira’s half-finished drink along with his just-made order.

  When he sipped the strong brew, he confirmed it was warm to drink but not scorching hot. “I’m going to have to thank the girl at the cafe when I get back to town.”

  “What for?” Leira asked softly around a mouthful of chocolate cake.

  He sipped the hot coffee again. “For the coffee. She must have made us fresh cups instead of dumping our orders into the thermos.”

  Leira’s expression was strange, her features a little taut before she relaxed and answered. “Yeah. It’s not often a cafe bothers—even so far as using a thermos.” She stared over at the blue and black checkered steel bottle. “Must be small-town generosity.”

  Ciaran chuckled. “Probably. But not so generous that I won’t need to return the thermos.”

  Leira smiled and finished off her cake then wiped her mouth. Ciaran stared at his piece and though his mouth watered he slid it toward her. “Here. I actually had breakfast so I’m good.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted. “I saw you looking at that cake. Don’t even think of being self-sacrificing with me. Just eat your cake so we can get moving, okay?” She quirked one eyebrow, her expression quite threatening.

  Ciaran shook his head. “Nope. We’ll share. Honestly, I’m not even a fan of whatever this is. Chocolate and caramel in one cake. It’s not a done thing.”

  She narrowed her eyes, staring at him for a moment as though she could see right through his lie. Then she snickered. “Spending time with a person has its benefits you know. I’m onto you, buddy. But, because I’ve just climbed a mountain, and you’re being such a gentleman, I’ll agree to half. Just don’t hold it against me when you’re hungry later.” She was smiling as she forked the piece into two equal halves and dropped hers into her cardboard box.

  Ciaran felt a rush of something he couldn’t identify as he watched her eat the cake. It had to do with knowing he’d helped satiate her hunger. But he wasn’t a caring kind of guy.

  Why should he care if she was fed and cared for at all? Yeah, she was his client, but his job was to keep her safe, not wait on her hand and foot.

  He cleared his throat and nodded at her. “So you want to tell me anything at all about how you got into this mess? What exactly could you have done to put your life in danger?”

  She smirked. “I’m not exactly a good girl, even if I might look like it.

  He’d expec
ted her to remain standoffish, refuse to share what she’d been through, but she nodded, her face devoid of express as she began to detail how she’d gotten herself in trouble in the first place.

  And it was nothing at all what he’d expected to hear.

  15

  Leira - Flashback - 2 days ago

  Even the walls felt like they had eyes.

  Leira felt the cool brick of the wall at her back, seeping into her skin, absorbing the icy feel in the hopes that it would lower the temperature of her overheated blood. She was lurking in the basement corridor, waiting for the guard on duty in this sector of the museum to walk past her.

  She was jittery with nerves, too nervous. If she messed up now, the likelihood of getting caught was high—like ninety-nine point nine-nine percent high.

  Her paranoid was justified though because she was, in actual fact, committing a legitimate crime. No matter which way you looked at it, stealing was wrong. But then again, stealing from a potential thief? How wrong was it really that she was stealing simply to ensure the relic didn’t get stolen in the first place?

  I’m a regular modern-day Robin Hood. The stuff of fairy tales, for sure.

  Leira shook her head, hoping to thrust away the ringing in her ears. If she didn’t focus, didn’t keep her head in the game, she was going to make a dire mistake and get herself caught.

  The clinking of metal against metal drifted to her ears, the sharp chinking accompanied by the low, rhythmic thud-thud of Arnild’s boots on the marble-tiled floors. His radio chirped and wheezed as the security supervisor announced the checkpoints all clear.

  From the control room one level up, the night supervisor was able to see almost the entire museum. But Leira knew of a few spots the cameras didn’t catch. Dark-spots, was what Aldrich had called them. What would he think if he found out she’d used his own recon data to beat him to the punch?

  She shuddered, feeling the chill creep down her spine at the thought of his reaction when he discovered her betrayal. She didn’t plan to be around. Nope. Once this part of her plan was complete she was going to hightail it out of there, building, city, state. She’ll be long gone before he found out what she’d done.

  Arnild had reached checkpoint SB3: Sub Basement Exit 3. The control office called it and he replied, “All clear,” to which Control replied, “Checkpoint SB3 secure.”

  Then Arnild kept walking. He’d head down the corridor, take a right and approach SB4, making his way all around the below-ground level until the entire sub-basement floor was confirmed secure. She knew the routine, had been in her office a million times during the night security sweeps.

  The Blumenthal Museum of Antiquities didn’t skimp when it came to security. Only the best was required in order to keep thousands of invaluable relics and treasures safe and secure. The Trust responsible for running the museum knew how important the contents of the art and relics were, both the items on show on the above-ground levels, as well as the pieces secreted in the secure archives, artifacts many of which would never be put on show for the public, some of which weren’t even recorded as being in possession of the institute.

  But the very fact that Leira was a trusted member of the staff had made her vulnerable. She swallowed back the urge to puke. How easy had it been for Aldrich to get to her.

  What a total sucker she’d been, taken in by his charm, seduced by his attention, by his romantic efforts. Had she not been such a spineless twit she’d have seen past his manipulations to his ulterior motives before it was too late. To think she’d even allowed herself to consider his marriage proposal. Maybe not as seriously as he’d wanted but she hadn’t turned him down instantly either. How dumb could she have been to not have seen his true purpose in romancing her?

  She could just imagine the headlines.

  Nefarious Black-market Dealer Seduces Naive Twit of an Archaeologist in Order to Steal Priceless Artifact.

  What a total joke.

  And, the only way she’d discovered what he’d been up to was because he’d believed she was such an easy mark. He’d slipped up because he’d been convinced she was blind to his manipulations. He’d gotten too comfortable. That had been his first mistake.

  Leira took a deep breath after Arnild turned the corner. She pushed off the wall, reaching to tug the hem of her jacket down, an automatic habit as though preparing to attend an important meeting.

  This morning Leira had dressed to kill in a charcoal skirt-suit, an oyster silk blouse and six-inch heels in a matte dove-gray. She’d finished the look off by twisting her fiery red hair in a messy bun on the top of her head.

  But now her hand met soft knit and she remembered she’d dressed for the occasion; black boots and jeans, black turtleneck, complete with black balaclava that would certainly hide her identity, along with her red hair of course.

  She’d planned to ensure nobody would suspect her, not even if all signs pointed to her being the only staff member still on the premises at this hour.

  Leira took a breath and hurried around the corner. The entrance to the secure archives, endearingly referred to by the staff as the Shadow Zone, was at SB2. The exterior doors at SB2 had been sealed shut years ago to ensure nobody would be able to easily access the vault.

  The only time they’d ever been open was when the museum had taken delivery of the bulk of their rare artifact collections and that had been almost a decade ago.

  Leira herself had helped supervise the offloading and cataloging of each and every piece. She’d spent months studying each item, frustrated by the confidentiality clause she’d signed which had ensured that she’d never be able to confirm to anyone that certain artifacts were hidden away in their basement which treasure hunters and archeologists around the world were still searching for.

  It felt like living a lie, and the only thing that comforted her was the knowledge that no black market would ever have these relics on their lists, no thief would ever get their stinking hands on them, no country would fight over the rights to them and hide them away from the world.

  Her only gripe was that nobody would see them, stare at them in wonder knowing they truly did exist.

  Leira ended the tale, glad she’d taken care to not mention exactly what the relic was she’d been planning to steal. Across from her, Ciaran appeared engrossed in the story. Then he blinked and shook his head, as though waking from a dream.

  “Damn, you’re more badass than I thought.”

  She couldn’t deny that his words made her blush.

  16

  Ciaran

  Ciaran had listened to the tale, finding himself fascinated as he pictured her in preparation to steal this relic. Her description of the events had painted her as a badass professional thief, though he was certain she’d embellished a little for effect.

  He shook his head then downed his half of the cake, carefully searching his emotions for the regret he knew he’d find. But didn’t. He didn’t at all regret giving away half his cake no matter how much he loved cake and sweet pastries.

  Something was definitely wrong with him. Maybe it was the snippet of her robbing of a national museum?

  He scanned the mountainside around them, trying to focus on something else as he finished off his coffee and reached for the thermos. His hand touched warm skin as he grasped the steel flask and he found Leira had stopped him.

  “I’ll pour,” she offered, her expression bland. When she’d filled the cup she wrapped her hands around the warm porcelain and then smiled as she handed it to him.

  He watched her as he sipped the warm coffee. Something was going on that she wasn’t telling him. He’d get it out of her eventually. If it had anything to do with Aldrich and why he was after her, Ciaran would ensure she told him.

  He reached out as she finished off her drink. “Let’s take the rubbish with us.”

  She nodded and handed over the bag and used cups. He slipped them into the paper bag and tucked everything into the opening of the rucksack behind his neck. His finge
rs moved on instinct, and he knew he was showing her how used to tramping he was. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t think she was any sort of threat to him.

  Other than him being in the line of fire if Aldrich did manage to find them and took the opportunity to take her out. Reality cleared his head and his mind went cold. They’d lingered for a little too long and when he met her eyes, he found her expression in agreement. She was ready to move.

  He gave a short nod and lifted his head to scent the air, to listen for anyone present. He heard nothing other than the throbbing of Leira’s heart, the sound sending his own heart racing.

  What the hell?

  Ciaran swallowed hard and stood, then reached out to offer Leira a hand up. She took it silently and followed him as he rejoined the trail again.

  She remained silent for a long while until he slowed his steps. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. We’re just coming up on our means of transport.”

  She squinted at his face but didn’t question him. Again he examined the area around them. They’d stopped in a little hollow along the mountain where a craggy rock-face hung out over the mostly smooth rock. Covered as it was in brush, plants and trees, the formation wasn’t something anyone would spot unless they were intimately familiar with the mountain itself.

  He craned his head to get a good look up the mountain as well in case someone was upwind and watching them. Again, he got nothing but he kept in mind that some supernaturals could have slipped past him.

  He straightened his spine, determined now to move with extra care. He met Leira’s gaze and indicated a narrow path carved out of the rock. She nodded without a word, understanding his unspoken request to remain silent.

  He waited for her to pass him and head up the narrow path cut from the rock. It curved slightly, hidden by dense brush and trees, the cold in the air now a fierce reminder that they’d be hitting snow soon.