Darkmoon (#5) (The Cain Chronicles) (4 page)

Bekah tugged the ponytail holder out of her bushy curls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s just trying to be helpful. I mean, you said it yourself: you’re not up for pep talks.”

“But if someone’s going to take over for me while I’m, you know, on maternity leave—well, it’s not Levi. Abel’s always been the one who helps me.” Even if she hadn’t seen him once since the afternoon of the wedding.

“Levi’s
not
taking over,” Bekah insisted, fluffing out her honey-colored hair. There was a dent in it from the ponytail holder. “Anyway, Abel’s busy. He’s been running errands for Scott.” She took a piece of cold chicken from the plate. “Did you know he misses you?”

Rylie blinked. “You mean Abel?”

“Yeah. I’ve tried talking to him once or twice.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you can imagine how well that goes over. But even when he’s not talking, I watch him, and he spends most of his time watching you. Maybe you should talk to him.”

Rylie took a big bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “Maybe I should.”

F
OUR

The Tour

Levi spent hours poring over
the Office of Preternatural Affairs’s internet presence, including their United States government-branded website and social media pages—each of which already had several hundred thousand followers. He signed up for every list he could find: text message notifications, Facebook, email,
everything
.

He told himself that it was a matter of intelligence. He also told himself that his new obsession had nothing to do with the fact that Tate had become the poster boy for the OPA, as well as the face of the victims of “preternatural crime.”

But even Levi knew he was lying to himself.

He sat at the dining room table with his tablet and scrolled through the news of the day. The OPA had sponsored new legislation with a lot of ugly components—things that would completely strip people like Levi and his family of their privacy.

It looked like the Facebook followers were excited about it. Tate was even on tour to drum up support for the bill called H.R. 2076.

“You asshole,” Levi told the photo of Tate on the front page of the OPA website.

Bekah entered and banged around the kitchen, washing dishes, wiping down counters, and generally being her usual, type-A self. The smell of cleaning fluids made Levi dizzy, but he tried to ignore her as he scanned the event calendar for Tate’s promotional tour. He would be stopping in a city just nine hours of driving away: Greenville.

It had been a long time since Levi caught up with his ex-boyfriend.

Bekah opened the fridge. “Want anything to eat, Levi?” She didn’t just smell like cleaning chemicals; she also smelled like herbs and death. She must have just come out of the cellar with Scott.

“I’m fine. How’s our scumball of a dad today?”

Something crashed. He almost jumped out of his chair until he realized that Bekah had slammed a Tupperware container on the table in front of him. “Don’t talk like that,” she said, glaring at him.

“Fine. I won’t talk about how our dad betrayed us and lied for years. That’s definitely the best way for us to fix this problem.” Levi dropped his tablet on the table and got up. “I’m going away for a couple of days.”

Bekah leaned around to peek at the screen, which was filled by Tate’s heavily-airbrushed features. “You’re not going to catch up with Tate’s tour, are you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“It depends.” She stepped in front of him before he could walk out the door. “If you’re going because you want to kick his ass, like you said the other night, then it’s definitely a problem. You’ll pull everything down on our heads.”

“No asses will be kicked,” Levi said. Silently, he added,
None that I tell you about, anyway
.

Bekah wasn’t fooled, and she was too fast for him to step around her. Every time he tried to move to the right or left, she darted in his path again. “The cops are watching for us now. Did you hear about what they did in San Francisco last week?”

Of course he had. Even if Levi hadn’t been obsessing about the OPA, there was no way he could have missed hearing about riots in the Castro. Cops had gone into clubs to clear out demons and claimed to pick up over sixty incubi. In the meantime, twenty-six humans had died, too.

“I’ll be careful. Nobody’s going to know that I’m a werewolf.”

“Just don’t go, Levi. It’s not safe.”

He snagged his coat out of the hallway and headed for the front door. “Watch the pack for me while I’m gone.”

Bekah rolled her eyes. “I can’t watch the pack
for you
. It’s not your pack. You know that, right?”

Levi jabbed her in the stomach with a finger. That was usually prelude to a good wrestling match—more often as wolves than humans—but this time, she only slapped him away. “It’s not my pack
yet
,” he corrected.

He grabbed his keys and left.

Levi underestimated how much time
it would take to drive across the state in the middle of winter. He left with ample time to reach Tate’s speech and still managed to arrive in Greenville too late; the parking lot was filled by cars with icy windshields, and one whole side had been cordoned off for protesters bundled in puffy jackets and scarves.

He parked on the street a block away and passed the protesters. It was hard to tell what, exactly, they were trying to complain about. Some of them had signs referring to police brutality in San Francisco, but he saw at least one banner that said that the demon problem was actually an alien conspiracy.

Rolling his eyes, he kept walking past the police line and jogged up the stairs to push through the doors. Tate’s speech was reaching its emotional climax. There were a good twenty rows of folding chairs between Levi and the stage, and at least two hundred people watching; a lot of heads nodded in approval.

Even at that distance, with that many people between them, Levi could pick out the smell of Tate’s sweat and aftershave. He still used the same brand that he had in high school, although he wasn’t wearing as much now that he didn’t have to overpower the smell of marijuana.

Tate had always been handsome, but having a team dress and style him made a pretty big difference. He looked like an approachable young politician, with big eyes and an honest face. He could have been anyone’s brother, grandson, or next door neighbor. But he wasn’t
just anyone’s grandson; he was related to the late Senator Peterson, and the crowd hung onto his every word.

“These creatures are everywhere,” Tate said. “They’re in our neighborhoods and schools. They’re at the bars downtown, lurking in the sewers, and waiting for us to drop our guards. But will we let them hurt us? Will we stand by and let them hurt our
families
?”

This was the guy that had made Levi contemplate leaving his adopted family so that they could run away together. And now he was preaching anti-werewolf legislation and talking about God’s mission.

As soon as Tate finished his speech, people stood and cheered, and Tate accepted their adulation with a wave of his hand and a radiant smile.

Levi ducked out of the doors again and headed around the back of the building.

Twin tour buses were parked on the adjacent street. They were massive, square, and painted like American flags. The nearest one had a slogan on the side facing him: “Our Country. Our Freedom. Our Safety.” Levi’s lip peeled over his teeth. Wasn’t it
his
freedom and country, too?

Tate and his entourage emerged from the back door, and Levi stepped into the shadow of the buses so he wouldn’t be spotted. He watched his ex-boyfriend join another group of people, all of whom smelled like expensive cologne. They discussed the event’s turnout for a few minutes, and then Tate said, “I’ll meet you guys in the buses soon. I have to make a call.”

He stepped away from the chatting crowd. A light flared as one of his entourage lit a cigarette, and the smell of tobacco wafted through the air.

Tate kept walking until he was out of range of the cigarette smoke before pulling out his cell phone, which left him standing next to an alley between an antique shop and bakery. Levi circled around the buses, avoided Tate’s entourage, and slipped behind his ex-boyfriend.

He grabbed Tate’s sleeve.

“Whoa!” Tate protested as Levi dragged him into an alley. His mouth opened wide to shout for help.

“Don’t yell,” Levi said. “It’s me.”

Tate’s face brightened with recognition. “Levi?” He took two steps forward, as if he was going to embrace Levi, and then thought better of it. “What are you doing here?”

“I was curious to hear your speech. This was the closest stop I could visit.”

Giving a shaky laugh, Tate jammed his hands into his pockets. “Man, you scared me. I thought you were a mugger or something. You just… You look different.”

While Tate had cleaned up and gone political, Levi had kind of gone in the opposite direction. His curly hair was all the way to his jaw now. He was also trying to grow a beard, although it was still pretty sparse, so he kept it trimmed to a goatee. Levi rubbed a hand over his chin. “You think it’s bad?”

“Naw,” Tate said, the affected refinement of his professional voice slipping away so that he sounded “normal” again. He was staring at Levi like he had never seen him before, and Levi’s wolf could hear his heart racing. “But
look
at you.”

Levi tried not to feel too pleased about the approval in his tone. Instead, he concentrated on the reason that he had driven for twelve hours to see Tate. “You’ve been saying interesting things in your speeches. You know, the stuff about angels and demons and…werewolves.”

It was hard to see Tate’s cheeks flush in the darkness. “I know it sounds crazy.”

“Not that crazy.”

Tate’s eyes skimmed over Levi’s body. “What did you think of the speech?”

“I didn’t like it. You’re talking about all of these ‘creatures’ like they’re not Americans themselves. They’re taxpayers and voters, too.”

“Demons aren’t even born on Earth, much less eligible for citizenship.”

“Yeah?” Levi stepped closer to him. “What about werewolves?”

Tate’s heart sped a little bit faster. “A werewolf killed my mom. Sorry if I don’t think they need voting rights.”

“But the police said that it was a coyote.”

“Dude, I saw the security footage. That thing was way
too big to be a coyote. And there was a second investigation performed by the Office of Preternatural Affairs, and
they
said that it wasn’t a coyote, either.”

Levi planted his hands on his hips. “You mean that the commissioner of a county so tiny that our governor can’t find it on the map hit the federal level?”

There was a little bit of Tate’s old smile. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” Levi said promptly. “Let’s talk legislation.”

“I’m not really involved with that, man,” Tate said. “I’m just giving speeches.”

Levi shoved him in the chest. He held his strength back and didn’t push too hard, but Tate still stumbled. “You’re building public support for something that’s going to ruin my life.”

“What are you talking about? All this legislation is going to do is protect the American people from all those unholy creatures.”

“I
am
one of those unholy creatures,” Levi said with a low growl. “I’m a werewolf, and you’re screwing me over.”

Shock drained the color from Tate’s face. “What?”

Levi pointed at his irises. They were a dark shade of gold that was easy to mistake for brown, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. “Haven’t they told you anything? Gold eyes. Werewolf.”

Tate shook his head, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, like he could make it untrue if he denied it hard enough. “That’s not funny, dude.” When Levi didn’t laugh, or take it back, or whatever it was that Tate hoped for, he slumped against the wall. “Oh man. Were you like that when…?”

“When we were dating? I was a werewolf long before that. Bekah, too. We were victims. Did we deserve to be separated from our families for it?”

“No! I mean—no way, Levi. But you and Bekah, I know you guys. You’re different. You’re not like the rest of them.” His eyes widened, as if something had just occurred to him. “Do you know who killed my mom?”

Levi struggled to keep his face composed. Rylie had accidentally killed Mrs. Peterson while under the influence of silver poisoning. But as much as Levi hated Rylie and her stupid harem of boy toys, he couldn’t admit to Tate that she was a murderer. All it would take was a word to bring the whole Office of Preternatural Affairs down on the pack.

“It wasn’t Bekah and me, if that’s what you’re asking. We didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Tate leaned toward him, pushing away from the wall. “I never would have thought it was you.”

“You’ve got to stop the tour.”

“But this is so much bigger than that. There’s evil out there,
real
evil—”

“You’ve said that,” Levi interrupted. He grabbed Tate by the lapels. “Just don’t forget where you came from.”

He kissed Tate.

For an instant, he melted into Levi just the way that he used to, and it was like high school all over again. But less than two seconds later, he went rigid and shoved him away, wiping a hand over his mouth like there was something gross on him.

Tate’s face was slack with confusion and horror.

“Don’t forget,” Levi said again. He walked away, leaving Tate to his tour buses and giant American flags.

The bus sank underneath Tate’s
feet as he climbed inside. The door to the driver’s compartment was still open, so he could see that Wilhelm wasn’t there; he must have been having a second cigarette outside, since smoking wasn’t allowed in government vehicles.

Tate slid the door shut behind him. The bus was comfortable on the inside, and would have been more than enough room for one or two passengers. It had a couple of couches that folded into beds and a full kitchen in back. But the bus was usually occupied by far more than just one or two people. The entire tour had a staff of eighteen: a hairdresser, someone who handled Tate’s wardrobe, analysts, a documentary team, security, some assistants. When they were on the road, it was far from comfortable.