There. At last, a flicker of emotion in those warm, brown eyes. It doesn’t last long, but the sight of it is enough to give me hope.
I press on. “She told me about the tests. About the different levels of blood mania. She told me that you’re fighting to make yourself safe.”
“And so?”
Part of me wants to punch her in the nose. The rest would be happy with a simple hug. “Damn it, stop being so difficult. So I know you’re doing your best. That you’re trying to be safe.”
“And yet you’re still afraid of me.”
That stops me dead.
My mouth is still open, but nothing is coming out of it. I look at Rayne, stare into the deep, consuming pool of that stunning autumnal brown in her eyes…and realize that she’s right.
I want to deny it. I want, with everything in me, to tell her it’s not true, but…
My shoulders slump. I lean back in my seat.
Rayne stares ahead through the windscreen. “Tell me.”
“What?”
“Tell me why it’s so impossible for you to believe that I could be different.”
“It’s not impossible, I just—”
“Tell me about your father.”
My body seizes up, every muscle, every limb. I watch my fingers flex once, twice, three times on the steering wheel. I can’t tell if I want to curl up in a ball or lash out with my fists. Both seem fantastic options.
Instead I lower my hands to rest them in my lap.
“Danika?”
“How do you know anything about him? Who have you been speaking to?”
“Is that really important?”
“Who?” I yell.
She doesn’t even flinch. “Phillipa told me. Not outright, but she said his passing has had a large effect on you. It influences your decisions and feelings, whether you want it to or not. But she insisted I speak with you myself.”
“Why? It’s her dad too.”
“You know why.”
Fuck.
For the first time, I notice that my fingers are shaking. No, both hands are trembling visibly, a tremor that extends up my arms. The backs of my eyelids begin to burn.
“Dad was murdered. By a vampire. Some youngling turned him and…and he had to be exterminated. A SPEAR agent,” my voice cracks. “He attacked a rookie SPEAR agent and they killed him.”
Rayne nods, but doesn’t speak.
The burn behind my eyelids intensifies. “My dad was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest man in the world. He was built like a rugby player, but he never would have hurt anybody. He used to rescue bees off the ground so they wouldn’t get stepped on. He’d volunteer in animal shelters and local soup kitchens. He was amazing.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help the tears gathering there.
“He gave everything to look after me and Pip and Mum and then, in one night, in one horrible moment, he became a monster. He-he hurt people. Attacked them. It was blood mania.”
Still Rayne remains silent, but now her shoulders are scooped downward and her eyes are closed. Though subtle, I can see the tension in her arms and back, spot the tiny point of one fang cutting through her bottom lip as she bites down.
“The one that turned him was too young and didn’t have any control. They passed on the madness. He never stood a chance. But if someone that good, that kind and peaceful and noble—if someone like my dad could murder people then—then…”
“Then how could I possibly be any different?” At last Rayne speaks. Her voice is the softest of whispers directed at the ground. She refuses to look at me, instead visibly taking care over each word she speaks.
“Rayne…”
“I suspected, but I didn’t know. Phillipa refused to say more than that he died via an edane attack. It didn’t take much to figure out what type of edane. Noel seemed to know more, but he insisted I speak with you. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see that look in your eye. The one you’re wearing right now.”
I can barely see her. My gathering tears have started to blur my vision. I dash them away with the heel of my palm and sit straighter in my seat.
“It’s nothing to do with you.”
“You’re right, of course it isn’t. But the fact remains, you, for all your bravado, sass, and smarts, are afraid of what vampires can do. A werewolf is still the same person after being bitten. Sprites, gnomes, gargoyles, and goblins are all born exactly as they appear. Some are good, some are bad. But vampires? We—no, I—am fundamentally different from the person I was before. I drink blood, or I die. I have urges to kill, kept in check only by my own will and the social niceties of the city I live in. I am a monster.”
Rayne straightens her back and settles her hands in her lap. Without saying the words, she makes clear this part of the conversation is now over. “Thank you for being honest with me. I’m glad you could, but now, we have work to do.”
“But—”
“Let’s get moving.”
Silence.
In the end, I break the deadlock of wills by turning off the hazard lights and pulling back onto the road.
We continue the rest of the way without speaking, each of us trapped in our own thoughts. I’ve no idea what Rayne might be thinking of, but my own mind is a whirlwind of painful memories, cruel truths, and guilt. Guilt that despite everything, I still haven’t told Rayne the entire story.
* * *
On the borders before the inner city becomes the suburbs, there are checkpoints, military tanks lining the road to form blockades, manned by soldiers with guns and walkie-talkies. When we stop, two soldiers flank each side of the van with guns drawn while a fifth gestures for me to wind down the window.
He takes his time looking in, assessing ID lanyards, and peering into the back. “Where are you heading?”
I smile, the lie all prepared on my lips. “Maurice Cruush assigned my team and I to round up any straggler agents. Intel suggests a couple of them have tried to leave the city. Do you need to see the list?”
He takes the ragged paper from me and gives that a good once-over too. Boredom and fatigue stain his features. “But there’s nothing out here.”
“Exactly. If you were trying to hide, wouldn’t you go somewhere quiet and abandoned?”
“Fair enough.” He hands the list and my lanyard back through the window. “Just be careful. We have more drones watching the countryside, and while they aren’t weaponized like the city ones, they can fire tranqs if we find any trouble.”
“We’ll be good.”
“Sure. Whatever. Head on through.”
At his command, the makeshift blockage parts to let us through.
Beside me, Rayne coughs into her hand. “When was the last time you came out here?”
I turn the van onto a small lane leading off the primary A-road we’ve taken out of the city. “Four months, maybe six. I check in on them every now and then, but for the most part they look after themselves. Besides, a SPEAR coming out here too often would defeat the point of the ruse, y’know?”
“I suppose. And you think they’ll welcome us now?”
“Probably not, but we have to ask. You know what they’re like. Maybe they learned something.”
“All the way out here?”
“You’d be surprised. Besides, some of the Dire Wolves mentioned a pack run by ‘that woman.’ They had to be talking about these guys. I want to know what they were talking about.”
The van rumbles along the Tarmac which gradually morphs into stones, then packed earth, mud, and finally dirt. Another mile on and any signs of light from the larger road is gone. Even the road noise has faded, leaving us in the silence of the countryside. With the headlamps on full beam, I can see that even the dirt of the “road” is gone, replaced with grass that clearly hasn’t been disturbed in weeks.
Though there’s no obvious sign or marker, after another few feet I stop the van and let the engine idle. “Ready?”
Rayne nods. “They’re expecting us?
”
“No, but they know we’re here. Don’t doubt that for a second.”
She climbs out of the van. I follow, putting aside the brief thought of leaving the engine running. Part of me wants to take the time to turn the van to face back the way we’ve come, but if we have to leave so quickly as to need that, it won’t make a difference which direction we’re facing.
Together we walk across the grass, following a trail too narrow to be called a footpath. It winds through a pair of low hills and across a large stream, crossed via a series of stepping stones. Beyond it and in the middle of a small valley is an old, rundown church. The moon and stars don’t offer much light, but I remember well enough what the place looks like. Dilapidated stones, broken windows, and fractured doors make up the exterior while the roof is puckered with holes from missing tiles. In the bell tower, a large rusted hook shows were the bell once was, though now the structure is empty.
Rayne sniffs the air and angles herself to the right. I press my back to hers and wait.
Doesn’t take long.
Within a minute, I watch the first woman approach from across the grass. There’s nothing behind her but open plains of long, gently waving grass; she may well have sprung up from the earth itself. She wears something long and billowing in dark colours that blend into the gloom. The only reason I can see her at all is because of the faint glow in her eyes.
“Been a long time, Agent.” Her voice carries on the breeze. “To what do we owe the pleasure?
I keep my hands to my sides. “It’s business I’m afraid. We need information.”
“We?” This voice comes from behind me and to the left. Again soft and gentle, almost matronly. Can’t see the source though. “You brought a friend.”
“You know Rayne.”
“I know of Rayne, but we’ve not met before. So you are her? So short and dainty. To think this sweet little thing came from the likes of that deluded revolutionary Vixen.”
Rayne growls softly.
I take a step forward. “Stop mucking around. Can we talk or not?”
“We’re talking now, aren’t we? Apparently you can.”
I roll my eyes. I know it’s dark, but our mysterious friend in the dark can no doubt see it anyway. “Tell me what you know about the Blood Moon pack.”
Silence. The breeze whips across the grass with a rustling whisper like pixies in the dark. Maybe there are pixies out here; it’s quiet and remote enough.
“Ah. This really is business. Perhaps you’d better come inside.”
Finally. “Thank you. Come on, Rayne.”
“But—”
I shake my head. “You lot may be fine in the dark, but I’d rather be able to see, thank you very much. Plus it’s cold out here.”
“Fine.” Rayne starts walking toward the broken-down church, and though her steps are firm and confident I can tell she’s less than happy at the idea of joining these women inside.
* * *
Inside the church, lights are bright and warm. Almost welcoming. Rather like stepping through a portal or magic mirror, the inside is nothing like one would expect from the outside.
Clean, modern, and well-equipped, the interior has been converted into a living space for multiple people.
The aisles and nave are an open space filled with comfy chairs, bookcases, TVs, and small nooks made private with elaborately decorated folding screens. Up in the chancel there’s more of the same, though more entertainment oddments are there too including a pool table, more books, and boxes of board games.
It can easily be mistaken for the hall of a large student house if not for the wall in the apse which is lined top to bottom with weapons. Nowhere near as large as the stores that SPEAR has, but the display is impressive nonetheless.
Each of the windows have been blacked out from this side to prevent light leaking into the darkness. Over the huge screens, instead of the stations of the cross like one might expect from a church, there are pictures of women, in varied styles of clothing from the 1700s through to more contemporary times. Each picture is a painting, created with incredible care and skill, showing the women in repose or positioned for battle, but no matter the clothing, style, or pose, each woman boasts long sharp fangs and huge black claws.
The nave is full of women, some reading, others chatting quietly, more of them gathered together on squishy chairs and beanbags.
I manage to count fifteen bodies before I realize it’s pointless. For every one I see, there are likely two more hidden somewhere else.
Rayne eyes the scene slowly, giving each area her undivided attention while she maps it out. I understand what she’s doing, because I do it too, but to see her scan and assess only reminds me that no matter how normal this scene might appear, it’s anything but.
Behind us, the two women from outside join us on the threshold. Now, with light to help me, I see their features clearly, including the long black tunics they wear and the white wimples to match. Just like every other woman in the place.
The first of the pair links her hands before her waist and smiles. Her face is plain without a lick of make-up. From beneath the wimple, the smallest curl of fine blond hair is visible. “Good evening, Danika.”
“Sister Opal.”
She laughs. “Come on, there aren’t any tourists here. No need for that.”
“I figured since you were all dressed up—”
“There’s been trouble in the city. I assume that’s why you’re here. I told the girls to dress appropriately in case we had any…visitors.”
“Riiiiight. Well, yeah, that’s why we’re here. Got anywhere we can talk?”
Opal looks me up and down twice. Her gentle smile gives way to a more serious expression. “We can go downstairs. Gina?” she addresses the other woman. “Keep the girls up here and make sure no one goes outside until the agents leave. I want to know what we’re up against.”
Though she stares hard at Rayne, eventually Gina nods her agreement and walks around us to settle herself with the cluster of women sitting on beanbags and cushions. As she joins them, the rest swivel to face us, and I see more than one set of bright white teeth showing between parted lips.
Rayne moves closer to my side, her body stiff with tension.
“Easy. Come on, follow Opal.”
“I’ve never seen a pack like this before.”
“There has never been a pack like this before. Come on, just go. Move it. We’ll talk more in private.”
True to her word, Opal leads us through the open living area and down a short set of steps to what might normally be the area behind the nave. More steps on the right take us deep beneath the church to old burial plots no longer in use.
She walks easily through the dim space, seeming not to mind the lack of true light. But for a bare bulb at uneven intervals there isn’t much to see by, forcing me to keep a close eye on where and how she steps.
At last, she pushes another door that opens onto a short corridor with thick oak doors on either side. Right at the end is another door with a small black plate nailed to the surface. There’s no name there, just a curly symbol like a squiggle, squiggle, line, squiggle.
Opal pushes the door open and gestures us through.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It’s an office. A minimalistic computer sits on one end of the narrow desk while on the other lies a stack of folders. The short walls are filled with shelves stacked with books, loose sheets of paper, and the odd piece of what looks like bone. Beyond that, I spy a clock, a long rope attached to a pulley that vanishes into the ceiling, a locking cabinet, and a wire paper bin, empty but for a single ball of scrunched up copy paper.
“Sorry it’s a little cramped, but for true privacy this is as good as it gets.”
Rayne shows no subtlety in her decision to stand by the door. She folds her arms across her chest and waits, taking on that eerie stillness only vampires seem capable of.
Opal offers me the only chair, but I shake my head and lean a
gainst the edge of the desk instead.
“Blood Moon,” I mutter.
“Trouble,” says Opal, at once. “New, aggressive, and dangerous. Their desire to bolster their numbers is strong enough that the alpha came here, offering us a place within the pack.”
Can’t help but snort at that. “They don’t know Loup Garou very well, do they?”
“They don’t know us at all. I’d almost forgive them, but he came with spells and tried to trick us to their side. That kind of deceit is less easy to forget.”
“Spells? Come on.”
With a sigh, Opal pushes her wimple back off her head. A vast cascade of blond hair spills out, thick and curly with slashes of pink highlights running through it. Without the wimple, it’s now possible to see the six little rings piercing the upper cartilage of her right ear. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not that kind of spell. More a covert hypnosis or something like that. If I didn’t already have my guard up…let’s just say they made quite a compelling argument.”
“What else do you know about them?”
“The pack alpha is a man named Flint. He’s from a city further south of here and brought the remnants of his pack with him when he moved.”
“Remnants?”
“There was a coup. He fled with what remained of his followers and took the name with him.” Opal wrinkles her nose a little. “That alone told me how cocky and arrogant the man is. The gall—to name his pack of reprobates and bullies ‘Blood Moon.’”
Rayne sniffs. “Can it not be considered a sign of respect to name your pack for the ancient festival?”
“No. It’s sacrilege.” Opal pounds her fist on the table. The computer bounces once, then recovers. “Anyway, he wanted the Loup Garou to join with Blood Moon because—let me make sure I get this right—because ‘such strong wolf factions are destined to form a mating pair and produce the most powerful of werewolf offspring.’”
A small shudder ripples through me. “Gross.”
“Exactly. As if any of us would associate with a disgraced pack like that. Anyway, after that they didn’t stay long.”
Moon Fever Page 26
