Shadow on the Moon (7 page)

It was probably too much to ask
that the storm had passed entirely. The distant thunder suggested it hadn't.
But maybe by sunrise or even midday it would be gone. It couldn't hurt if she
just stepped out for a minute and got the lay of the land. She looked over at
the dwindling fuel supply. Less than half a dozen logs remained. At the rate
the fire was eating them, they wouldn't last until morning. Well, she knew how
to fetch logs with the best of them. She'd use that as her excuse. Maybe when
Morgan saw what she'd done, he wouldn't be angry that she'd disregarded his
request.

The idea excited her. She hurried
to get the waterproof leggings, then searched Morgan's pantry shelves for
something to light her way. She found a Coleman lantern with plenty of fuel
inside.

By the time she'd pulled on her
boots, she was skittish as a wolf cub. She lit the lantern and went to the
front door. As she swung it inward, a pile of snow collapsed onto the cabin
floor.

"Damn!"

Impatiently tossing chunks back
onto the stoop, she cursed again when she saw rivulets forming on the floor,
knowing she'd have to waste even more time mopping up water.

As she went for the mop, a
horrendous squeal came from somewhere in the wild forest outside. Not that such
pitiful sounds weren't common in the wilderness, but bad weather tended to keep
predators and prey alike in their lairs. Dana peered out the open doors but saw
nothing, and now the only sound came from pine needles whispering in the wind.
Even the thunder had stopped.

Shrugging, she began mopping up the
melted snow.

Not long after, she stood on a long
covered porch, the lantern hanging from one arm and a shovel in her hands. The
air felt crisp and wonderful as it nipped her bare cheeks, and she realized
she'd been feeling as cooped up as a hothouse flower.

A huge yellow moon reflected
brightly off the rolling snow and she could see for quite a distance. Off to
her left were a couple of sheds, one of which looked like it held wood. Beyond
were several structures that she couldn't quite make out, and even further out,
the landscape seemed to stretch endlessly. To her right, and circling around
until it met the never-ending meadow, was the thick forest.

She wasn't certain which way led to
the bottom. By the position of the moon, she judged the meadow to be somewhere
to the west. But which way led to her four-by-four?

With a shake of her head, she
scooped snow off the top step leading from the porch. She wouldn't be getting
any definite answers in the dark of night, so she might as well head for the
sheds and bring in some wood. At least she was free for a while.

* *
*

Morgan plowed through the churning
snow, his four powerful legs barely touching down before he leaped again. To
one side was the icy crest of Ebony Canyon. To the other, the golden rectangles
of his cabin windows were becoming near.

He halted and licked away the last
remains of blood from his mouth, then similarly cleansed his paws. How he hated
this humiliating task. Almost as much as the impulse that drove him to run at
night, every night, seeking a victim to satisfy his lust.

When he finished washing, he
alchemized from wolf to werewolf shape. Soon he'd be behind the cabin, where he
would pick up his clothes and shift to human form. Had he not brought the
female to his den, he would have gone to stand in front of the warming fire
before shedding his werewolf form.

Why had he brought her here? His
common sense told him she wasn't the one. To find her at the base of the
mountain, so close to the time of the Shadow of Venus was simply too coincidental.
And she'd be nothing but trouble. The others would come, try to take her from
him.

He felt a sudden stiffening of his
guard hairs. Were they here now? Turning, he sniffed. Seconds later, something
black streaked across the snow. A pale blur of white-on-white followed. Soon he
heard a soft thud behind him, and he turned.

An unusually large wolf, made all
the more remarkable by its pure white coat, was regarding him with the open
curiosity of a family pet. He recognized the feigned friendliness, knew it
concealed a menace made even more deadly because it was hidden.

"I told you to back off,"
he growled in warning, lifting his eyes to include a darker wolf slinking at
the white one's flanks.

The larger wolf shook its great
head, then crouched. Its muzzle shrank, its body and legs elongated. Soon, a
womanly form stood before him. But this was no ordinary woman. Her curving body
was covered in silver-white hair and her long, nimble hands bore claws.

"Give us the human female,
Morgan." She spoke the Lupine language in a throaty rumble and bared her
sharp fangs.

"Stay away from her,
Lily," Morgan replied, also speaking Lupinese.

"Are you headed to romp with
those cur you keep?" She reached out a long hand and drew her claws across
his furred throat. Her dark eyes narrowed.

Those claws could open his throat
in seconds, but Morgan felt no fear. She was strong and deadly, but he knew she
wouldn't hurt him. He grasped her wrist, allowing his own claws to dig into the
tender pads of her palm. She gave no sign she felt any pain and repeated her
demand.

"Give her to us."

At her words, the darker wolf
darted forward and stood at her side.

"The woman's mine."
Morgan bared his teeth. He hadn't planned to say those words, but now he'd
taken a stand. To back down would show weakness, something a lone wolf couldn't
afford to do.

"Jorje is hungry." Lily
gazed sympathetically at her companion "He hasn't had a human kill in
days."

Emboldened, the creature looked up
at Morgan and growled. A small lift of Morgan's lips sent it cowering back.

"He doesn't yet have your
courage." Lily bent and gave the wolfling a languorous stroke. Then she
straightened and tore her wrist from Morgan's grip. "I promised him the
female and he shall have her."

"No!" Morgan bristled his
coat and scraped the snow, sending a fresh spray of powder into the swirling
snow.

Lily smiled cynically.

"Look at you. So determined to
remain one of them." She jerked a disparaging hand toward the cabin where
the female slept, then leaned forward until her nose nearly touched Morgan's.

"You are a werewolf now,
Morgan. A hunter, like us." She sidled around, rump outthrust in sexual
invitation. "You can't escape. Why do you have such trouble grasping that
fact?"

With a rattlerlike motion, Morgan
dipped his head and nipped her thigh. She scurried back with a ki-yi-yi. Jorje
cringed and whimpered.

Lily whirled, glaring first at
Jorje, then at Morgan.

"Give it up, Lily. It's not
going to happen."

Morgan directed a scathing glance
at Jorje. "Mate with your lapdog instead."

"How little you understand the
ways of our species. What's so important about this female anyway? Humans are
prey, that is all." In an abrupt about-face, she laughed, the musical
tinkle at odds with her fierce expression. "Oh, Morgan, you are a fool. Do
you think she's the one told of in The Book? Do not believe everything you
read."

Although surprised, Morgan wrinkled
his nose to convey disagreement. He'd underestimated Lily's cunning, but how
had she guessed so quickly? Moreover, he suspected she was right. The Book was
written by a fearful man, living in a fearful place. And yet . . .

What had drawn him to that ruined
dead-end road at exactly that time? The Book told of—

Before he could give it more
thought, Lily sniffed and glanced over his shoulder. Morgan followed her gaze
and saw a glow moving away from his cabin.

He felt a surge of rage. Dana had
disobeyed his command. This a female never did! Then remembering she was human,
not wolf, he sighed. Keeping her at his cabin would be even harder than he'd thought.

Lily inclined her head toward
Jorje. The wolfling crept forward. Morgan crouched, inflating his hackles to
their limits. With a snarl, he spread his arms and blocked their path.

"This is my territory, Lily.
Return to the dark, cheerless woods of Europe and leave me be. You're not
wanted here."

Lily put her hands at her waist,
jutting out one hip in a provocative human gesture that Morgan had once found
irresistible. She regarded him thoughtfully.

"The puny door of your puny
dwelling offers her no protection," she growled.

"No, but I do. And so does
Lupine Law."

Showing fang, Lily bristled her
coat like porcupine quills. Jorje weakly lifted the hair on his dark shoulders,
but still held back. Morgan could see Lily was considering her options. True,
the pair could rush him, but Jorje was immature, vulnerable to the dominance of
an older male. Although they might initially overtake Morgan, he could take out
the smaller wolf with one swipe of his powerful jaws. And unlike them, Morgan
was not tightly bound by the Law.

Lily obviously reached the same
conclusion. "Very well. You may have her. For now." She patted the
dark wolf on its head. "Come along, Jorje. We'll find you another."

With that, she smiled. Her body
shifted, wavered, and with a small glad whimper she returned to creature form
as easily as taking a breath. She nudged Jorje, and the pair leapt toward the
rim of the canyon. Morgan followed them with his eyes until they disappeared.

Yeafanay cawfanay naylanay may. The
Song of Hades filled his mind, bringing back the night he'd been consigned to
hell in vivid detail, yet also bringing renewed hope. A ritual from The Book
had made him what he was. Could everything else its pages foretold also be
true?

Years ago, when he first came to
Ebony Canyon, he'd taken the section on the Shadow of Venus out of The Book and
studied it carefully, almost committing it to memory. It was packed with chants
and rituals all based on astrology. Before his transformation, he would have
considered it all hogwash.

But in the beginning he'd been
willing to try anything to escape his curse. He'd taught himself how to erect
and read astrological charts and had even pinpointed the planetary aspects the
maiden must possess to successfully perform the ceremony.

As time passed, his hope waned. Now
he had little faith the ceremony would work. Of course, until now there hadn't
been a maiden.

She must love him, so said the
text. With an abiding devotion that eclipsed fear and death. Since using his
hypnotic powers was expressly forbidden, why would Dana, or any woman, love
him? He'd become a hermit. Most days, even in human form, he looked and lived
like the creature he'd become. A creature not unlike the ones Dana had fiercely
sworn to protect.

No, not at all unlike.

And subtly, very subtly, Dana
behaved like the animals she loved. As soon as she'd become alert, she'd
scanned the small cabin, searching for danger like wolves in the wild. Later,
she'd roamed the room, touching objects as if marking her territory. But most
notably, she'd shrunk in size when he'd frightened her, looking away, baring
her belly like the submissive female he knew she wasn't.

This one was no stranger to the way
of the wolf. And from her display of devotion, he knew she loved them. Could
her love spill over to that abomination of nature, the werewolf?

To him?

He looked up sadly at the waxing
moon. Slim wisps of clouds streaked its mottled surface. It appears so
harmless, so insignificant in the ways of man. Morgan knew differently. Even
now it sped on toward that fated night.

In the meantime, he thought, as he
lowered his gaze to the glowing lamplight inching toward the woodshed, he
needed to discipline her, teach her exactly who was the dominant one of this
pair.

Her life depended on it. Or, at
least, his did.

The going was slow. As Dana
shoveled her way to the shed, she sank nearly to her hips several times, and
wished she'd had the foresight to don the snowshoes. But too late now. She
needed to get that wood stacked inside before Morgan woke up.

She felt a bit edgier than she'd
expected. Darkness and night sounds didn't normally disturb her. But the
lingering memory of the eerie howls she'd heard just before the crash still
nagged at her. Besides, it was the absence of sound that bothered her most. Not
unusual in the wake of a blizzard, but nevertheless, the cries of a few night
birds would have gone a long way toward making her feel more secure.

The loss of time wasn't helping,
either. If she didn't get back before Morgan woke, he'd be angry that she'd
ignored his warnings. She could better face that anger if she succeeded in her
task.

And she would be in a better
position to ask Morgan to take her back to her Ranger. He had no excuse now.
The sky was beginning to lighten and clear. By morning the storm would have
passed.

* *
*

Soon she reached the shed, which
was actually more of a lean-to. Settling the lantern on the roof, she looked
around and spied a sled leaning against a wall. She kicked it down on its
runners, then started brushing snow off the wood and stacking it on the sled.
The ceaseless wind kept blowing fresh snow across the patch she'd shoveled, but
she took satisfaction in knowing it wasn't quite as deep anymore, which meant
she wouldn't be sinking to her knees

As she piled on yet another layer
of wood, she heard a rumble.

Low and throaty.

She turned slowly.

Had something darted behind the
corner of the cabin?

She lowered her head, looked up,
moved her eyes left to right. All was quiet around her. Moonlight streamed on
the expanse of empty billowing white.

Letting out a quick laugh, she
realized she was behaving just like Sheila, the first wolf she'd raised from a
pup. Her dad was right. She had begun to act like them.