Hunter Moon (The Moon Series) (3 page)

“We have a space of time,” Lukas conceded. He turned from the window and walked into his bedroom. A long black case sat on the bed, glistening beneath the overhead light like an onyx against a jeweler’s cushions. He unsnapped the fastenings and lifted the lid reverently. His eyes traced the lines of metal and wood, the gun safely nestled in its casings.

He remembered other guns in other places, in other times. He remembered his father’s hands over his much smaller ones, showing him how to steady a rifle before firing it. He remembered those same hands later, clenched in anger at something he’d done—Lukas never knew what he had done to make his father despise him so, but as he grew older, those hands were no longer gentle. In time, they were no longer there at all.

“The rest of your things won’t arrive for several more days,” Zamiel offered from his spot at the door. “I’m sure we can put that time to good use.”

Lukas nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the rifle. It was old, an antique, but still fired true, at least if loaded with the bullets provided by the demon. He hadn’t fired anything else—he had no need to. Lukas ran his index finger along the highly polished stock. The burled wood gleamed under the lights, almost mesmerizing with its complex sworls and patterns.

It was with great reluctance that he closed the lid. He raised his eyes to the demon. “Show me.”

Chapter Three

Kess walked into the den, thinking that no one was in there, and was surprised to find Finn on his cell phone. She began to back out of the room, but Finn waved her inside. She sat on the couch and grabbed a magazine, not wanting to eavesdrop on his conversation. She assumed he was talking to Laila, or maybe his father.

“Nope, nothing exciting going on here,” Finn said to whoever it was on the other end. “Just me, Rafe, and a bunch of cats.”

A pause. Then Finn continued. “Mebis is still in town. He’s permanently placed here now.” Finn shrugged as if the person at the other end could see him. “I don’t know.” A pause. “No, that doesn’t mean Laila’s in town more often.”

Kess idly flipped through the magazine, staring at the photos without really seeing them. Finn continued his one-sided conversation. “How’re things up there?”

Okay, so his dad or brother then. Laila was still in New Orleans, at least as far as Kess knew, and Finn wouldn’t have been talking about things she’d already know to her, so it must be family on the other end. Which was actually good, because she wanted to speak with Finn about something Mebis had mentioned to her, and bringing it up after a conversation with Laila might not be the best idea. Kess couldn’t explain why she trusted Mebis more than she did Laila, but that’s the way it was. The less Laila knew about the goings on in Miami, the happier Kess was. That was difficult though, what with Finn being her boyfriend and all. And Kess knew Finn wasn’t all that circumspect in what he told Laila.

“Hey yeah, she’s right here,” Finn said. Kess looked up, curious. “Hang on.”

He handed the phone out to her. She raised her eyebrows at him. “It’s Mac,” he mouthed.

Kess shook her head. She didn’t want to talk to Cormac, not right now, but Finn kept shoving the phone at her. She gave him an angry look, mouthing NO! but he ignored her. “Here she is,” he said into the phone.

She glared at him, snatching the phone from his outstretched hand. Kess vowed to herself that she would make him pay for this later—she hated him getting involved in the stuff between her and Cormac, even if he was only trying to help.

“Hi,” she said, once she put the phone up to her ear.

“Hey there.” Cormac’s voice was his usual steady, deep one, but Kess thought there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in it. She hated talking on the phone usually, and especially now when their relationship was so fraught with tension. Kess wished she could see his face; she was much better at reading expressions than voices.

“How are you?” she asked, since it seemed like the next obvious, and most innocuous, thing to say.

“Good, good. You?”

“Okay. Things are pretty stable here right now.” Kess tried to keep her voice light and breezy. No need to get him worried over nothing.

“Finn tells me that Mebis is a permanent fixture now.” Cormac’s voice was distant, like he was distracted, or trying to appear so. Still, there was something in his voice that made Kess wonder why he’d bring that up.

“Yeah. He’s keeping an eye on us for the Keepers. And he’s been teaching me some self-defense moves.”

“Sounds like he’s just keeping an eye on you.” Cormac’s tone held a hint of suspicion.

Kess didn’t want to argue. She knew that Cormac was territorial—he was a werewolf, it was part of the package. She just wasn’t sure if she liked him being territorial about her. And because of Mebis, no less. She wouldn’t classify the werejackal as a friend, not yet, not when he could still turn out to be her executioner.

She decided to change the subject. “How’re classes going?” She wished for about the millionth time that she could be back up there, taking classes with him at the university. Kess had gotten her schedule all planned out and everything before the hyena trouble erupted down here.

“Good.” There was an awkward pause. “Kess, we’re going to need to talk about this.” His voice was soft and full of love for her.

She closed her eyes, feeling tears spring into them. God, she missed him, more than she ever thought possible. But the things he said in anger couldn’t be taken back, and she wasn’t sure where that left them. Kess wanted him just as badly as she ever did, but she wondered if he loved her for herself or for what she represented. She didn’t need a protector, nor did she need an Alpha. She was the leader of the wereleopard clan and, as such, she was the one responsible for the decisions. Cormac may not always agree with them, but he had to understand they were hers to make, whether he liked them or not.

“I know,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” he began. “You know that.”

“I do.” But sorry didn’t take those words back. Sorry didn’t erase her doubts.

“What do I have to do, Kess? It’s been months!” His frustration made his voice go lower. “You’re barely talking to me.”

Kess rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Cormac. I’m trying, but it’s hard. There’s a lot to be done down here…”

“Do you still love me?” His voice was flat.

“What?” How could he ask her that?

“Do. You. Still. LOVE. ME.”

Kess swallowed. She spared a glare at Finn, who was idly surveying the books on the shelves. “You know I do.” Always.

They didn’t say anything for a few long minutes. Kess rubbed her temples and wondered what Cormac was doing with the silence.

“Okay,” was all he said, when he finally spoke. He sighed. “Can I call you later?”

“Sure. Anytime.” They needed to talk about what happened, and if the phone was the only way to do it, maybe it would be enough.

“I love you, Kess.”

“Love you, Cormac.” She waited until he hung up before ending the call herself.

Finn turned around with a grin. “Everything back to normal?” he asked with a wink.

“Assclown,” she snarled at him as she stormed from the room.

Chapter Four

Lukas stared at the ocean from the giant windows, watching the vast play of water on sand. He could appreciate the power of the waves; he found it almost meditative to watch them crash into the shore and pull away from it. As his time ticked away, it was soothing somehow to look at something that made him feel so insignificant. It was so different than anything he was used to. Nothing like the lake near his family’s cabin…

Lukas remembered the first time he’d hunted with his brother and father. He’d been eight then, his brother eleven, almost twelve. Their father had taken them on a weekend trip to the family’s cabin and they planned to spend it hunting. Lukas hadn’t been able to contain his excitement. He’d been hunting with his father since he was old enough to hold a gun, and he’d spent lots of time in the woods with his older brother, Peter. But this trip was a first for him; both his father and brother—the two people he loved most in the world—were going to show him how to hunt. Together.

The weekend had started out promising enough. They had driven to the cabin and gotten everything unloaded. Lukas had only brought his small rifle, but his father and brother had a number of guns between them. He remembered he’d looked down at his rifle in disappointment and eyed one of Peter’s newer rifles with jealousy.

When everything had been safely stowed, they’d made the trek out to the lake to catch dinner. His father believed that they should eat what they caught—hunting wasn’t about trophies—and whenever they were out in the forest, he made the boys catch their dinner. If they were unsuccessful, they went hungry.

Lukas was a pretty reliable fisherman, but that afternoon and evening saw him bring up nothing. Peter, on the other hand, caught a number of fish, placing them in the bucket they had brought for holding their catch. Their father also had a good day of it, catching two large fish for himself. As they hiked back to the cabin to scale, clean, and gut the fish, Lukas looked back at the lake as though it had betrayed him.

He and Peter cleaned the fish and spitted them on some branches they had peeled free of leaves and bark, and stuck them above the fire on a crude homemade rotisserie. Peter caught him eyeing the fish hungrily.

“You can have one of mine,” Peter said casually. He dusted the dirt from his knees. “I’ve got plenty.” Lukas smiled at his big brother gratefully.

But their father had heard and stalked over from where he’d been preparing some vegetable foil packets their mother had sent along. She always provided the leafy greens and fruits because she didn’t believe that man was meant to live on pure protein. “No he can’t,” the older man said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. He looked like a bull then, with his lowered head and blocky, heavy body. Lukas was constantly amazed at how a man so dense and clumsy-looking could move so lightly on his feet through the woods.

“But,” Peter began, gesturing at all of the fish he’d caught, “I won’t eat them all. Lukas can have one.”

“He has to earn his meat. He won’t be coddled out here.” The way his father said it told Lukas exactly how much of a disappointment he was. It didn’t matter to his father that he always managed to catch at least one fish when they’d been out there before; what mattered was that he didn’t catch anything today. He was going to suffer for that. As for the coddling, well, Lukas had no idea what he was talking about.

Lukas glared Peter to silence when it looked like his brother might say something else. There was no point in arguing with their father. Lukas grabbed his pole and gear, and began to make his way back down to the lake. He’d catch something even if he had to sleep beside the lake all night long. He’d earn his meat all right.

He looked back once on his trudge back to the lake. The fire was a flickering beacon through the trees, a welcome light in the growing darkness. He heard the deep toll of his father’s laughter, rumbling like a bell through the forest. His brother’s higher laugh rang above it. Lukas clutched his pole tighter to his chest and continued on, feeling something harden in him.

He sat at the edge of the lake, not bothering to fish, just content to stare up at the stars. Lukas always suspected his father preferred his older brother, but now he’d seen it plainly. When he and his father were alone it wasn’t so bad; Lukas could pretend everything was fine. But now that he’d seen how his father was with Peter, it drove home how much he was missing. His father wasn’t as patient with him, he hadn’t taught him nearly the same hunting skills he’d taught Peter.

It could have been because Peter was older. Lukas understood that there were some things he wasn’t able to do because of his size and age. Then again, he’d heard the talks his brother had with his father—he wasn’t eavesdropping, not exactly—and Peter had been doing a lot more at Lukas’ age than Lukas was doing.

His stomach rumbled, making him flush with anger. His father knew he could fish—he’d seen Lukas catch lots of fish in this very lake. To blame him for one day’s bad luck was unfair. Peter had been willing to share his catch. Lukas wondered if Peter had been the one to come back with nothing would his father still have applied the same rules. He scowled. Not likely. His father probably would have ordered Lukas to share rather than send Peter back to the lake or have him go hungry.

Lukas stood, threading bait on his hook. He arced his line out into the middle of the lake and waited. What would happen tomorrow when they went hunting for deer? Would his father insist that all three of them shoot their own deer? The likelihood of that happening was slim. And it was wasteful. They wouldn’t be able to eat or carry all of that meat. Surely his father had to realize that.

A nibble on the line, then it pulled taut. Lukas reeled it in, not really hungry anymore. Still, he wanted to prove that he could catch fish just as well or better than Peter. He dropped the fish in his bucket, then rebaited his hook, casting it out once more into the lake. As he waited for another bite on the end of his line, Lukas vowed that tomorrow it would be him, and not Peter, that would bring down a deer.