Shepherd's Moon (13 page)

“You’re
that
Tristan,” I said, suddenly remembering Richard’s warning.

Damn it.
Richard should have been more specific — should have given me some accurate information that I could use, not some crap about the man being dangerous.
Dangerous
barely scratched the surface of what I was dealing with here.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. A different tactic would be needed with this guy.

“Look, Tristan. Obviously we got off on the wrong foot, but it’s important that you understand what’s going on.” I motioned to the prisoner. “What this man did tonight doesn’t match who he is.”

Tristan stared at me as I fumbled to articulate my thoughts. At least he was paying attention to me.

As much attention as the descendent of a fallen angel can pay, anyhow.

I talked quickly, expounding on what little I knew, and he listened to my half-hearted explanation. When I finished, he just stared at me like I was fresh out of the state hospital.

But he was calmer.

“What you don’t seem to realize is the fact that I don’t care. He’s still my prisoner. He waved his hand, motioning for the officers who stood out of earshot to approach.”

“Fine.” My voice was flat. “Take him. I’ll have him back into custody by tomorrow afternoon. You’re saving me paperwork.” Frustrated, I pushed my captive hard, sending him staggering towards the Negotiator.

He caught the man easily, chuckling softly.

That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t about who had custody of the prisoner. This was about getting a reaction from me. Chastising myself, I watched the officers take him from Tristan and move him into their vehicles.

“Put him somewhere you’ll have easy access to…” I called. “I’ll be down to collect him by morning.”

They ushered the man down the alley, anxious to be away from the hostility that hung in the air. My voice was flat and cold as I addressed Tristan. “I don’t like you.”

Something flickered in his eyes and he grinned. “I picked up on that.”

“I think it’s a good idea if we just try to avoid each other in the future.”

“Why don’t we just see how things work out?” He turned on his heel and walked away, following his troops without a backwards glance.

The alley was suddenly empty. I glanced around the dusty streets, taking it all in. The smoky scent of mesquite wood permeated the air. It was a fragrance I generally found comforting, but tonight it did little to calm me. I watched as the officers opened the door of their squad car and, covering the prisoner’s head, settled him into the backseat as I stared helplessly.

And I don’t generally do helpless…

I walked in the opposite direction, despite it being the longer way back to the car when a memory stopped me cold. The prisoner had a deep navy blue tattoo on his shoulder—one that had been partially exposed during our scuffle.

Turning around, I jogged back towards the squad car. Reaching through the open door, I tore the prisoner’s shredded shirt away from him and examined the tattoo, ignoring Tristan’s curious gaze.

Full moon, cross through the middle.

Meg had the same design on her amulet. The one she’d been wearing before she died.

“Anything you care to share?” Tristan asked, his eyes meeting mine.

I shook my head. “Not with you, I don’t.”

“With Richard, then…” There was something dark in his gaze; something not evil, but not completely good either. He turned and winked before pushing the door to the squad car closed, then moved to the front of the car. “It’s none of my business. I’m just happy you’ve got someone who can post bail for you when my men arrest you for obstruction.”

“I can see the headline now:
Archangel Busts Were Whisperer.
”

He paused before sitting down in the seat, his arm draped lazily over the car door. “Well, now. Aren’t you fun?”

“You have no idea…” I mumbled, watching him drive away.

Turning my attention towards the sky, I watched the choppers circle back around. The evening was turning into a dog and pony show, and I still had to find Billy. I ducked out of their powerful lights and slipped into the shadows of the desert trees.

The uniformed cops were attempting to disperse the flood of people who stood outside the police line hoping for a glance of something gruesome.
Hell, let them in the house,
I thought. A reality check would do some of these people good. Ducking my head, I moved easily through the crowd, weaving through the throngs of observers.

Miraculously, my car was still parked at the scene. At least as a coyote, Billy couldn’t strand me without a vehicle—no pockets for car keys once you’ve shifted. I removed my gun from my waistband and set it on the seat next to me as I slipped into the car. Reaching up for the visor, I let the keys drop into my lap.

There were nights when I couldn’t justify my work.

Nothing was making sense this evening, and while he wasn’t my main problem, my thoughts kept returning to Tristan. The chances of running into a Nephilim were almost nonexistent. So what were the odds of one being in the desert? Or at least the deserts of Arizona? It seemed like a waste of a good resource. Until now, I had only read about the creatures. But, if Tristan was any example, I hadn’t missed out on much.

And I didn’t have time to worry about him anyway—there was simply too much on my plate at the moment. The fact that two people had shown up with the same symbol on their persons in the last two days seemed significant. Add to that the fact I couldn’t read the half-formed Were tonight, and I was already out of my league. Mysteries aren’t my thing. Normally, I’m the hunter, the tracker or the counselor.

I’m rarely the crime solver.

Besides all of that, I had a houseful of animals to care for and a pack to protect. While meeting a Nephilim was a novelty—I couldn’t afford to let it distract me.

As Joseph used to say, I needed to stay focused on the now, not the new.

I cruised the streets, seeking out the unique thought patterns that only Billy possessed. The cool night air kept me awake as the darkness consumed the glow of the streetlights. The ringing of my cell phone refocused my attention from Billy’s dark thoughts, but after a glance at the caller ID, I ignored the call, tossing it onto the passenger seat. Richard could wait. Right now, Billy needed me.

My coyote was still off pouting somewhere, but chasing him down was infinitely better than listening to Richard bitch about the evening’s events. I forced the inevitable confrontation from my mind lest it interfere with my ability to locate Billy.

I needn’t have worried.

Within a few minutes, I picked up on his sullen, irritable thoughts. He was feeling as defeated as I after the night’s events.

Parking the car in the deserted lot of a park, I stood by the door and performed a quick scan of the shadows before pinpointing his location. Not sensing any obvious threat lurking nearby, I popped the trunk and grabbed the duffle bag filled with spare clothing before holstering my gun and placing the phone in my jacket pocket. Then taking a deep, calming breath, I headed in his direction.

He was still in animal form, just as I knew he would be. His mind was a jumbled mess of crimson, his thoughts confused and broken. He lay curled around himself on a large flat rock that overlooked the desert, his nose tucked under the warmth of his tail.

Coyotes, like all animals and most humans, think in images. Reading their minds is similar to watching a movie. The difficult part is identifying the timeframes of their thoughts—animals rarely think in past tense.

Shapeshifters, on the other hand, have the ability to think in past, present and future. It makes their thoughts infinitely more difficult to interpret.

But right now Billy wasn’t exactly difficult to read. He was feeling much the way I was; frustrated, angry, wanting more information on the events that had unfolded, and sulking because he couldn’t kill the guy responsible. Really, that wasn’t an image I needed in my head at the moment. I’d seen enough violence for one night, even if it was secondhand. And if I didn’t return Richard’s call soon, there would be even more violence this night, but this time I would be the recipient.

My phone vibrated in my jacket pocket. He’d been texting me for the last twenty minutes wanting to know our status. Between Richard’s constant calling and the fact that I was still irritated from my run-in with the Nephilim-slash-negotiator, I wasn’t in the mood for whining from humans
or
coyotes.

Billy growled at my approach, expressing the best he could his displeasure with me.

“Don’t give me any of your shit, William,” I said sharply, swatting him softly on the nose. “Richard’s been calling me every three minutes, you’re out here sulking, and my evening is essentially ruined. So spare me the tantrum.”

Physically pushing the massive coyote over, I sat down on the large rock beside him. “Just phase back and let’s get on with it, shall we? We have a lot to do.”

Whining, just as he always did when I pulled rank, Billy shifted back to human form. I shuddered as magic filled the air. It was always a little breathtaking to feel that shift from human to animal and back. Even if I couldn’t do it, I could appreciate the beauty. Billy’s thoughts reorganized and immediately he became more difficult to read.

I intentionally kept my eyes forward and silently passed him the duffle bag complete with a pair of jeans and shirt that we kept in the car for just this purpose. Not that Billy was hard to look at with his taut, muscular stomach and copper skin, but having him run around naked in the park would bring undue attention upon us—something neither of us needed. He dressed slowly.

“You just let that guy go, Alex.” His gaze met mine, cold and angry. “You let both of them go!” He was frustrated and I knew the reason behind his frustration.

“
That guy
was a murderer, Billy. And I
let him go
with a Nephilim — a Nephilim that has a much higher rank than you and I. Trust me — your murderer has bigger problems now.”

“You could’ve put up a fight.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I couldn’t have. Tristan is Nephilim. You know what that means?” I didn’t wait for his response. “It means he’s immortal, probably certifiably insane and more than likely trained to use it to his advantage.”

To his credit, Billy remained silent as I ran my hands through the soft grass, letting the simple contact with the earth calm me. “It’s not like I had a lot of choice in the matter.”

“Your job is to handle strays.” His accusing eyes hardened. “You weren’t in that house—you didn’t see what he did.”

I glared at him, his memories running through my mind as I pushed myself on the boulder near him. “Yes, well you paint a pretty vivid picture.”

His eyes narrowed as he intentionally projected more detailed images of the evening’s events, images he had kept hidden from me earlier. A flash of light echoed through my mind and I was suddenly transported back to the scene in the house.

Three long scratches filleted the woman’s face open, turning it into a mass of bloody flesh and pure white bone. Any characteristics that distinguished her as a human had been torn away. A chain hung from her neck and a golden cross lay across her breastbone, the gold a stark contrast to the pale skin. Blood still flowed freely onto the floor, pooling beneath her and covering the body of a child she had sought to protect with her life.

Her child.

Even now, she attempted to keep hold of the boy. Even as death held her in its grip, yet her best efforts had only resulted in him suffocating with her own death. The boy looked up, blinked his eyes and whispered, “Help us.”

I staggered against the memory and slammed the walls guarding my thoughts into place—a telepathic barricade of invisible armor that brought Billy’s projected images to a sweeping halt.

I swallowed heavily, feeling very out of my element. I’m a protector, not an executioner, and seeing the victims in this kind of lifelike detail caused a heavy stillness to weigh down upon me.

“Stop it,” I snarled, glaring at him. “You’re not helping.”

“You should have killed him.” His mouth was tight and grim. “Next time, I’ll make the call.”

“No, you won’t make the call,” I snapped. “The reason you didn’t make the call this time is because you would have made the wrong one.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “You need to learn to control your instincts. Jesus, Billy — you’re only a coyote half the time! Learn to control the animal side.”

He stood, buttoning the shirt. “It wouldn’t kill you to start looking at the animal point of view once in awhile.”

“Careful what you wish for,” I responded sharply.

To that, he had no comment. We sat for several long minutes, watching the stars and listening to the sounds of the night. Eventually, I sensed the anger leave him. His eyes softened and he stood, reaching a hand out towards me. I took it and let him pull me to my feet as we walked, an uneasy silence between us.

“I hate this job.”

I nodded. “But, you’re good at it.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Guess I would have been gone a long time ago if I wasn’t.”