Moon of Curses

by H. D. Gordon

  For the rest of the fight, I’d sung an old Wolf lullaby into Devon’s head, one our mother had been fond of singing. He’d kept his eyes open, his hands free of his face. I’d made sure of it. It was not a huge event, but it was one that changed us, helped to shape us into whom we were today.

  Now, my brother sat down beside me with a plate of food balanced on his lap, and scarcely took notice of the fight beginning below. It was curious how people could become desensitized to even the most vicious displays as long as they’ve seen it enough times. Devon had come a long way in fighting his gentle nature, and while part of me was proud of him for this, another part of me was sad for it. I was slowly coming to the conclusion that this kind of compassion was not a weakness, but a strength, that being vulnerable took far more courage than being cold-hearted.

  But tonight was not a night for compassion. Tonight I would need to kill yet again, and even though I held no affections towards the Mad Wolf, taking life was never an easy feat. It changed a person, but as with anything else, repetition tended to dull the sting.

  The first fight ended rather quickly, the larger of the two Wolves submitting in an upset victory. The mat was mopped, the blood washed away to make room for more, and the announcer came out to introduce the next Wolves. I checked my timepiece as the evening wore on, still scanning the crowd and finding no one of interest. By the time the fourth fight arrived, I was growing more anxious, but this particular match I had interest in, because it was Nia Night’s turn in The Ring.

  Music specific to her played as the female Wolf who’d saved my ass back on that street in Borden emerged from the fighter’s quarters. She looked the same as I remembered her; corded with muscle and more beautiful than a fighter ought to be. She rolled her neck and shoulders, her eyes fixed intently on The Ring as the announcer gave her measurements.

  Her opponent was announced next, new music starting up and spotlights going to the opposite side of the arena. I sat up a little straighter in my seat when one of the largest female Wolves I’d ever seen emerged from that end.

  She had to outweigh Nia by half, and her face was square and menacing, with a forehead the size of a melon. Her arms hung halfway down her tree trunk-like thighs, and there was murder in her dull eyes.

  Devon leaned forward in his seat now as well. “Who’d you put your money on?” he asked.

  “Nia,” I responded.

  He let out a low whistle. “Good luck.”

  I shot him a glance and returned my eyes to the scene below, anxious to see what Nia’s opponent looked like in Wolf form. If she was that big as a mortal, her beast form had to be absolutely massive.

  I sent a small prayer up to whatever Gods might be listening to give Nia strength. Shortly after, the fight began.

  The females shifted into their Wolf forms, and sure enough, the other female was as big as a mountain, making Nia look quite small in her shadow.

  The crowd rose to their feet as the two went after each other, fists pumping in the air and spittle flying from lips as they called out their excitement. I wasn’t aware of it, but my hands were gripping the armrests of my chair, my nails digging into the fabric.

  Devon noticed my tension with a raised brow. “How much did you bet?” he asked.

  “Nothing I can’t stand to lose,” I replied.

  He studied me a moment. “Do you know Nia Night?”

  “A little.”

  “You like her.”

  It was not a question. I didn’t answer.

  When Nia took a deep bite to her rear flank, twisting just enough to break free before the other Wolf could tear her leg clean off, my reaction was answer enough.

  “Come on,” I mumbled.

  Nia was limping now, her fur slick with blood, her eyes wild with the heat of battle.

  I don’t know what instinct snatched my attention away, because I was more absorbed in the fight than I’d ever been, but I pulled my eyes from The Ring for a heartbeat, and they settled on a familiar face in the shadows of the crowd.

  As soon as I saw him, I knew him. There was no mistaking those eyes, that mess of features, made so by my very hands.

  Lucian Borden, the Mad Wolf.

  He was here.

  Chapter 23

  I stood from my seat, and Devon looked up at me in confusion.

  Then understanding dawned on him.

  “You saw him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To follow.”

  “That’s what he wants you to do.”

  “I know.”

  “Dita—”

  I placed a hand on my brother’s shoulder, steadying him as I’d done a thousand times over the course of our lives. “Trust me,” I said. “I’ve got this.”

  I could see that he was not happy about it, but he would not stop me. “And her?” he asked, nodding down at The Ring, where Nia was still taking a beating, but holding her own.

  “She’s got this, too.”

  “Shouldn’t I come with you?”

  “In ten minutes, follow my trail, but not before. And watch your back.”

  “Okay.”

  I moved quickly toward the door.

  “Dita,” Devon said.

  I glanced back.

  “Please win. End this shit.”

  I nodded, meeting his eyes and making a promise I could only hope to keep. Then I was moving down the private hallway, descending the stairs, toward the main area, and into the crowd. It was hard to pick up his scent through the gathered, but I moved in the direction I’d seen him go, and soon found myself in the bowels of the arena.

  There was an entire underground labyrinth below the building, several rooms and hallways, where the fighters could prepare themselves and wait until their names were called. The lights were dim here, and I descended another staircase, the air growing cooler as I went.

  Now I could pick up his scent clean and clear, and if there had been any doubt in my mind about whether or not I’d just been imagining seeing him before, it was gone now. I would recognize his scent anywhere. It had been branded into my memory from the first time I’d encountered the male, and if he wasn’t here now, then I was a monkey’s uncle.

  I unbuttoned the front of my jacket and drew my right revolver, seeing no need for pretenses. I knew that Lucian was trying to lure me somewhere to kill me, and he knew that I had every intention of trying to kill him. While it was entirely possible that he would have others with him, lying in wait to ambush me, my gut told me that this wasn’t the case.

  When I’d killed his brother and his closest Wolves and left him to die in that storehouse, I’d insulted his pride, and a male Wolf like Lucian had nothing if not his pride. I, a female of no name and little consequence, had bested him, and my instincts told me that what he wanted more than anything was to set that to rights.

  He wanted to kill me himself, to do the deed single-handedly.

  Well, we were matched in our ambitions.

  I wound through another hallway, the walls made of dark gray concrete that smelled damp and radiated cold. Lights hung at intervals, but left plenty of room for shadows in between, and the ceiling was low enough to make a claustrophobe uncomfortable. Above, the sounds of the arena were completely muted, a silence holding the place that was nearly preternatural.

  I kept a steady grip on the revolver in my hand, my heartbeat calm and stable. One might think that the setting and the prospect would insight fear, but this was not the case. I was so close to confronting the Wolf who’d stalked my nightmares now for over a year, so close to putting to rest the ghost that would not remain in my past.

  I rounded a corner, his scent growing stronger with every step, and found myself in a large room with old equipment scattered about. There were punching bags and free weights, tables and chairs and mats. The ceiling was low, the lights dim, and the air frigid. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

  A voice
spoke from the shadows, the tone and timbre unmistakable. “Little Wolf,” said Lucian. “You’ve come to play.”

  He did not wait for me to respond. He flew toward me, scarred face twisted in hatred and determination. I caught only a glimpse of that horror, of his glowing golden eyes, and raised the iron in my hand as swiftly as I was able.

  I managed to squeeze the trigger, but Lucian was faster than I’d given him credit for, and he hit my arm hard, nearly knocking the weapon from my grip. I managed to maintain my hold until I was knocked to the ground, the back of my head striking the concrete hard enough to make stars burst behind my eyes.

  I was dimly aware of his weight atop me, of the gun flying free of my grip and clattering somewhere on the ground beside me. I twisted and kicked, managing to shove his weight free of me for long enough to scramble backward.

  Then he was on me again.

  I went for my other iron, but was not fast enough. If I’d had any doubt about his intentions before, they were clear now. No one else was with him, and no one was coming. He wanted the privilege of killing me himself.

  He was on his feet before I was able to gain mine, and he kicked me hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. The pain was explosive, but the adrenaline helped me to bite through it. Another kick had me spitting blood, but I caught the third, gripping his leg and using all of my strength to flip the bastard onto his backside.

  He fell hard on his tailbone, but no pain registered in his face. If anything, this only seemed to excite him, as if he wanted me to put up a fight, not to make this too easy, but to draw it out, to savor the experience.

  I thought maybe this gave me an advantage, as I would surely go for the kill as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

  I yanked my left iron free of its holster and fired another shot, the report enormous as it rebounded off the concrete walls of the chamber. This one struck his shoulder, but he absorbed it the same way he’d absorbed the fall, as if he could feel nothing at all.

  In the next moment, his fist was connecting with my jaw, the gun wrenched free of my hand. Then his hands were around my throat, and air refused to reach my lungs.

  I brought my knee up hard and fast, hoping to hit him where it would hurt the most, but he maintained his hold and brought his leg up, blocking the blow.

  I twisted, ignoring the panic trying to rise up in me and recalling how to get out of such a hold. I brought my elbow down on his forearms, trying to break his grip on my neck, but realizing that the bastard was just too damn strong.

  He lowered his face close to mine, his hot breath fanning my cheeks, his crazed eyes and half-melted features a nightmare brought to life.

  “Every day I was in that slumber, I dreamed of one thing, and one thing only, little Wolf,” the Mad Wolf whispered between clenched teeth as his hold on my throat tightened. “And that was this very moment, the moment I would get to watch the light leak out of your eyes, to kill you slowly with my own two hands.”

  I heard the words, but could scarcely comprehend them. Darkness was seeping in around the edges of my vision, the lack of air reaching my lungs and brain acting quickly. Now fear did well up in me, as I realized that my death was close, and that I had failed in all the promises I’d made to my family.

  I was on the brink of unconsciousness, my efforts to break free growing weaker with each passing second. My last thoughts were of how I would never get to see the twins or Little Demarco grow up, how I would never take my family to a place like the Isle of Arabella, how I would never get to see how much I could love Elian, how happy we could be together. There was no acceptance that accompanied these thoughts, only a deep sadness, a final clarity of what really mattered to me, what mattered most of all.

  The last image was that of the Mad Wolf’s angry, distorted face so close to my own, the triumph in his eyes as he claimed his victory. The moment was terribly intimate, the kind that one might experience with a lover in the throes of love-making, when staring into each others’ eyes and seeing straight through to the soul.

  I felt myself slipping away, and was nearly over the edge when Lucian’s head literally exploded in front of me. It was so sudden that I could only blink as blood and brain matter splattered my face, as his hold on me slackened instantly, as he stood wide-eyed for a stalled heartbeat before dropping to the ground.

  I dropped too, the air rushing back into my lungs painfully, gulping and gasping and clutching at my throat.

  Distantly, I realized that a large bang had coincided with Lucian’s head exploding, and for the fog covering my brain, it took me some time before I noticed Devon. His face was grim, even in the shadows, and one of my irons was still gripped in his hands. He stared down at the body of the Mad Wolf for a moment before rushing to me, kneeling down beside me.

  “Dita? Are you okay?” he asked.

  I managed to pull myself into a sitting position, swiping at the blood on my face, still breathing raggedly. I nodded, and allowed my big brother to pull me to my feet. When he handed me my revolver, gathering the other as well and returning it to the holster on my right hip, I wandered over to Lucian.

  I raised the gun still in my hand and emptied the rest of the bullets into his head and chest.

  The sounds were enormous, but I didn’t flinch. I replaced that gun to my left hip and removed the other iron, emptying this one into the bastard as well, not stopping until the weapon clicked dully with its vacancy.

  When that was done, we stood in silence for a moment, staring down at the Mad Wolf. I could feel Devon’s eyes on me, and after a handful of heartbeats, he asked cautiously, “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded, holstering the weapon and buttoning the bottom of my jacket, my eyes still locked on the mess before me. “Just making sure the bastard stays dead,” I answered.

  Then we got the fuck out of there.

  Chapter 24

  That evening, I slept better than I had for over a year.

  There were no nightmares that jolted me from slumber, no thrashing around in the covers, no images of burned faces and howling Wolves. It was as if by killing Lucian Borden, I’d put to rest a ghost that had been haunting me.

  I was grateful to Devon for what he’d done. It was not the first time my big brother had killed for me, but I sure hoped it would be the last. I knew that sort of thing took a toll on him, despite the fact that he’d insisted on the ride home that this particular kill had been one he’d been happy to make.

  “I want this done,” Devon said as we’d passed out of the city limits of Cerys. “I was never easy with the fact that Lucian survived what happened back in Borden. I knew one day he could return and cause harm, and I also knew he was the reason you slept on the rooftop of the house so many nights. I…I just wanted it done.”

  I studied my brother in the shadows of the carriage. “I never told you that Lucian was the reason I couldn’t sleep.”

  Devon smirked, but there was only weariness behind it. “You didn’t have to, sis. You can hide from everyone else, not from me.”

  We rode a while in silence. Then, he said, “Nia won, by the way.”

  I smiled. Of course she had. That was my girl.

  When we made it home, we cleaned up and went to bed. I’d found Elian waiting in my bedroom for me.

  The Demon raised his brows in question after embracing me and kissing me on the forehead. “It’s done,” I answered.

  He nodded. “Good. Come to bed, then.”

  I did, and we made love, then we fell asleep in each other’s arms. The following day, I shared the news with the others.

  “Thank the Gods,” mumbled Kyra with a shudder. “The world is better off without that psychopath wandering about.”

  “Only one more problem to take care of,” Mila said. “And then we can get the hell out of here.”

  I nodded, asking her if she’d learned anything new about the Mangeras. She’d gone to their property in her insect form again while Devon and I had gone to the fights to face
the Mad Wolf.

  The Shifter shook her head. “The place is still on lockdown, and Angelo seems to be conducting business from there. Visitors are searched and flanked by Wolves at all times, and the magical wards around the property are strengthened daily…. But I did find out who he’s employed to put that magic into place. A Sorcerer who goes by the name of Maddox.”

  Kyra scoffed and rolled her eyes at this.

  “You know him?” I asked.

  The Sorceress pursed her lips. “I’ve seen him around Cerys. He sent me a drink at the club on 8th street, and when I refused the offer, he flipped me off. Cocky bastard. Always surrounded by various females. He’s wealthy, and seems to think he’s a lot more attractive than I do.”

  “Can he be bought, or is he loyal to Angelo?”

  Mila shrugged. “I can try to find out.”

  “Please do…. What else do we have?”

  Eli grinned, reaching into a black briefcase and removing a rolled up piece of parchment. As he laid it out on the desk, we all gathered around.

  “I thought the layout of his estate might be useful,” said the Demon. “If that is indeed where we still intend to attack. So I tracked down the blueprints, and made an interesting discovery.”

  I studied the parchment along with the others, biting my lip when the place indeed seemed like a fortress. Angelo’s home was nearly as grand as mine, sitting on almost a hundred acres of land, with a house in the middle that was surrounded on all sides by a high stone wall. Watch towers marked the four corners of this wall, and according to Mila, Wolves stood watch in each at every hour of the day. The only way in was through a gate that was also guarded, and more Wolves roamed the grounds both inside and beyond the walls at all times. Along with the magic that surrounded it, getting in seemed impossible.

  “What discovery?” I asked.

  Eli grinned, and I stole a moment to acknowledge how handsome he was when he did so. I found him attractive all the time, but sometimes he could downright steal my breath away.