Shadow on the Moon (27 page)

"Halant?" he asked,
trying to puzzle it out.

"Ammonia inhalant,"
explained Rutherford.

The captain frowned.

"Smelling salts."

"I know what they are! I'm
just wondering how this got here."

"Beats me." Rutherford
plucked the vial from the captain’s fingers. "But it hasn't been here
long."

"How can you tell?"

Schumacher got a look that
suggested he was an idiot. "It's as white as the snow. After any length of
time, it would be smeared with dirt."

"So what do you want me to do
about it?"

"Obviously someone's been here
recently. We ought to send someone to search for that backpacker."

"In the dark?" Schumacher
caught himself, repeated his question more calmly. "In the dark? I won't
risk my men for some idiot who doesn't have enough sense to heed
advisories."

"Whatever you say."

With that, Rutherford walked away
and fell in with the others. Schumacher heard him ask an officer if she'd seen
smoke coming up from the canyon's rim.

The woman said she had.

“When are we going to check it
out?"

"We aren't. The captain said
it wasn't important."

Rutherford turned and stared darkly
at Schumacher, who glared back. The wildlife man had no right to question the
judgment of a superior officer from another agency.

He'd show the guy who was in
charge.

"Listen up, folks," he
bellowed. "We search this spot for one more hour, then regroup for the
morning. Tomorrow, we'll scour every last acre of these hills, hear? And we're
going to find those wolves, wipe that menace out of these mountains! What do
you say to that?"

Schumacher supposed he hadn't
expected a responding cheer, but all those blank-eyed, nodding heads? With
teams like this, no wonder he hadn't fulfilled his mission yet.

Tiring of looking into the face of
apathy, he circled toward the dark forest.

He could feel it. Something was out
there. Something inhuman.

* *
*

Morgan squinted into the woods,
searching for Dana. Dappled sunlight reflected painfully off the trees, offending
his eyes. The warmth of the sun released a host of odors that mingled into a
confusing mishmash. He sniffed, trying to pick up Dana's scent, caught a whiff
of soap that quickly got lost in a rush of pine, mice droppings, and rotting
wood. The sounds of moving insects and animals deafened him.

He called her name. When she didn't
answer, he moved forward. He'd respected her modesty too long. If she was going
to be sick, she should have done it by now.

"Dana." One last polite
warning before dragging her out. He stepped into a cleft between the trees.

She was gone. He stared down for a
minute, his eyes relieved by the shade but his soul quaking in fear for her,
then threw back his head and let out an angry sound. Birds scattered
everywhere. A deer darted onto the snowbound path, then dashed into the woods
on the other side.

Why must she always defy him? All
God's creatures feared and despised him. Couldn't she have the sense to do the
same?

But he was wasting time with this.
She couldn't have gone far. He'd find her, put her over his shoulder again, and
take her out of harm's way forever.

The going was rough. Although his
sight was better in the dimmer light, his large body often wouldn't fit between
the trees, and soon he was tearing out branches, pulling up bushes.

Alive in the daylight, the woods
were full of frightened scurrying animals. Quail rose from their nests. Rabbits
flew to their holes. A porcupine curled into a ball.

Morgan ignored them, hating how
their noises and their putrid smells dulled Dana's trail. He breathed deep and
long, hunting for the smallest scent of her, then tried to discern her
footsteps in the busy forest.

As he was about to change from
man-wolf to full wolf form, he saw her running through a snowy clearing,
sometimes slipping, always catching her balance just before she fell. A huge
pine, surrounded by smaller offspring, blocked his path. With one leap, he
scaled the shorter trees. Just a couple more jumps and he'd be upon her.

Then he saw a dark streak along the
clearing's edge. Only a few feet inside the trees, it kept pace with her,
slowing when she stumbled, speeding up when she did.

Lily had sent her lapdog out on
reconnaissance. The clumsy whelp made a lot of noise that Morgan knew wasn't in
Dana's hearing range. She continued wading through the melting snow, one hand
clutching her injured shoulder. Morgan smelled blood. Jorje could smell it,
too. Orders or not, the scent would incite his hunger.

Would he try to kill Dana? Perhaps
Lily had forbidden it. Armed with her cruel sense of justice, she might want to
destroy Dana in front of Morgan, so he'd know who'd stolen his chance at
redemption.

Just then, the wolfling exploded
from the forest. His pads were soft; they made no sound. Dana's back was to
him; she'd stumbled yet again.

With a loud warning snarl, Morgan
alchemized to four legs, then shot after Jorje, crying Dana's name. She turned
toward him with a resigned look, still not seeing the other werewolf coming
from behind.

With a powerful thrust, Jorje
leaped toward Dana's back.

Morgan tightened his haunches and
flew at the lapdog's throat, colliding with him midair.

The smaller werewolf yelped and
rolled, then scrambled to his feet. Dana screamed, calling Morgan's name.

"Run for the cabin,
Dana," Morgan cried, keeping her in his side vision as he crouched for
another attack.

She whirled away, whirled back, her
eyes darting between Morgan and the whelp. Behind her, the falling sun cast
dizzying kaleidoscope of light on the snow. Morgan could barely see and was
unprepared for the weight that struck his shoulder.

Teeth clamped down. Jorje shook his
head, snarling furiously, ripping into Morgan's ear. Blood ran into his eyes,
dimming his eyesight further, and his attempts to break free caused greater
pain. He steeled himself for the eventual tear that would release him.

The pain got more intense. As his
sense of time and place began to fade, he saw a huge branch descend, then heard
a loud crack. Jorje screamed and released his hold. Dana stood above them both,
holding the branch like a club.

Jorje lunged at her. His balance
was off and he missed his mark, fell on his side, then quickly scrambled to his
feet.

"Get out of here,
goddammit!" Morgan screamed, putting himself between Dana and the other
werewolf. "I don't need your help!"

She did run then, slipping and
sliding on the snow. Jorje feinted to the right, tried to dash left. Morgan was
too quick for him. In an instant, he had the lapdog on its back, his fangs at
its throat.

"I have no quarrel with
you," Jorje whimpered in the Lupine language. "Just give me the
woman."

"She is of my pack and under
my protection," Morgan growled, but he backed off anyway.

"Lone wolves have no
pack." Jorje spit at him. Rather stupidly, Morgan thought, considering
he'd had the cur's jugular between his teeth just seconds before. "I do
not know why Lily suffers you to live."

"Go back and tell her the
woman will be gone from the mountain by sunset. We will not do the Shadow of
Venus tonight." Morgan turned his head away, refusing to keep the lapdog in
his sight another second. "As for you, you need not trouble yourself about
me any longer. I've found another way to escape."

"You cannot escape. Law is
law."

"Yes, and I will abide by it
enough not to kill you, worthless whelp that you are." Morgan longed to
return to human form. His ear hurt like blazes and the sun was killing his
eyes. "Now get out of here before I change my mind!"

Jorje warily backed away, keeping
his eyes firmly fixed on Morgan. When he disappeared into the shadows of the
trees, Morgan allowed himself to shapeshift. But only long enough to heal.

He couldn't let the wolfling run
free with Dana still moving about. But he had time. There was no danger of
losing the trail, even with the sensory overload of the daytime forest. A
werewolf's scent was unmistakable.

* *
*

When Morgan got back to the cabin,
he found the door wide open. He paused in dread. Would he find his lovely Dana
torn apart in there? After catching up with Jorje, he'd tracked him to the den
he shared with Lily and sealed its door shut after him. Had Lily somehow
escaped already and made her way to the cabin . . . ?

He lowered his head with impending
grief and stepped inside.

Except for the dying fire, all was
as he'd left it. Not a speck of blood marked the walls or floors. Dana's bag
still sat on the floor. The bedcover still had the wrinkles their bodies had
caused. Water still dripped slowly in the pan under the pump.

Werewolves hadn't been here.

For once, he felt thankful for The
Law, and for Lily's abidance of it.

But where had Dana gone?

He inspected the front room
thoroughly, searching for missing items, and his eyes came to rest on the
pegged rack. The jumpsuit was gone. He also noticed a conspicuous absence on
the bedside table. Quickly, he scanned the bookshelves.

The Book and the portfolio were
both missing.

Hoping he was incorrectly jumping
to conclusions, Morgan entered his bedroom. When he saw the empty hook, he
groaned and stumbled to the wardrobe. As he'd suspected, Dana had also taken
the fur robes and the holy water. He should never have let her read the
portfolio. She'd studied it too quickly and too well.

At least he knew where to find her.

The planets, it seemed, couldn't be
thwarted. Whether he willed it or not, the Shadow of Venus would take place
that night.

* *
*

Aphrodite's feet were tangled in
her harness straps again. Damn, Dana thought she'd finally gotten it right, but
obviously she hadn't. Breathing a curse, she laid the portfolio carefully on
top of the burdens on the sled, then climbed off and waded through the slush.

Although her legs and hands weren't
trembling as badly as they had during her rush to collect everything, they
still were weak and unreliable, and the gown bunched beneath her jumpsuit
hindered her mobility. It took quite a bit of fumbling to untangle the poor
frustrated dog.

When she was finally freed,
Aphrodite lunged forward, pulling the other dogs after her. They weren't
prepared, and Fenris tottered, almost fell. Then the team took off, and Dana
barely managed to leap on the runners in time to keep the portfolio from
slipping off.

She scanned the instructions for
the ceremony once again, knowing she had to commit it to memory. Daylight was
rapidly slipping away, and she wouldn't get another chance when it was gone.

They reached the rocky trail
without further incident, and Dana took note of the lengthening shadows. She
knew she should be terrified, but now she felt only icy calm. She called the
dogs to a halt, then got off to unleash all seven.

Seven canine servants of man
,
the text had said
, must witness the soul's redemption. Christen them with
holy water, devoted lover, and bestow names of ancient Gods and Goddesses.
Thus, the spirits of these deities will strengthen their will to serve.

Why seven? Dana wondered, but she
dared not skip a single step, even if she didn't understand it. She lifted a
bundle from the sled and started down the path, calling the team to follow.
They tumbled down gleefully.

Dana's heavy cargo slowed her down,
and by the time she reached the bottom, the dogs were rolling in the dirt,
jumping on one another, completely undaunted by the tall, foreboding obelisks.
Fenris raced around one, scattering snow, and Dana sternly told him to heel.
Odin started into the forest, and she had to call him back.

She had no idea how to control them
all while she went about her business. In frustration, she repeated what she'd
read in the text.

"All be still."

As the pages promised, all seven
came near the edge of the fire pit, then fanned out in a large circle.
Obviously Morgan had prepared them for this night.

Lowering her bundle to the ground,
Dana quickly untied it and pulled out a small bottle with a cork stopper and a
long string attached to each side. Blessed in the Vatican, the label said.

Bracing herself for the chill to
come, she unzipped the jumpsuit and stepped out. The white skirt fell to just
above her ankles, and though the breeze was slight, it nonetheless whipped the
gauzy folds around her legs. She felt momentarily reverent, as if she wore a
wedding gown, and looked down, dismayed to see the ride inside the jumpsuit had
crumpled the fabric. Feeling as if she'd committed a kind of blasphemy, she
shook her head. What did a few wrinkles matter? They'd soon blow out.

She dropped the string over her
neck, let the bottle fall between her breasts, and searched for a suitable
stick. When she found one, she began solemnly drawing a circle inside the ring
the dogs had formed. Unbroken, she reminded herself, it must be unbroken, and
she inspected it nervously as she worked. She mustn't hesitate; she was losing
light. After she finished, she skirted the perimeter, spilling drops of holy
water every few inches, reciting a spell for protection. If the consequences of
this night weren't so potentially disastrous, she would have felt silly.

When that was done, she moved to
the dogs, who still sat quietly. First she approached Aphrodite and sprinkled
water on her great white head. "Aphrodite, goddess of love. Protect my
love and me through the long night."

Aphrodite dipped her head and Dana
moved to anoint Zeus. "Oh, great Zeus. Father of the skies, watch over
us."

Zeus nodded, too. Dana turned to
the namesake of the Norse god Odin, beseeching his wisdom, then next to Freya,
asking that she rise on falcon wings and watch over them.