The Midwife's Moon (17 page)

For the first time that she could recall, she sputtered. Confusion and anger warred, and they both tried to come out at once as she spoke. She stopped herself and took a deep breath. “Pack, all weres, have a smell, as do humans. He smelled as human,” she finally managed through clenched teeth. Even as a child she hadn’t responded well to condescending people.

“Trust me.”

Nearly hysterical with anger and confusion, it was her turn to laugh. Albeit derisively. “Trust you? You just ditched my ally, someone you swore to protect, without batting an eyelash. How can I trust you?”

“You are not feral or wanted by New York authorities—human and were.”

That shut her up. She thought she’d been the only one who knew Boris’ true identity. If anyone found out about his past with the pack in New York...

“Cat got your tongue?”

She whipped her head and gave him a dirty look. “How dare you,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry. That truly was an uncalled for remark. You, of all women, are not a pussy cat,” he said.

Heather’s gasp of mirth was not lost on Roxy, but she could be patient. Boris didn’t have the torture market cornered. She looked in the rearview mirror and caught Heather’s eyes. The ex-healer quickly shut down.

“So what is he, if not a human?” she asked. Part of her wanted to challenge him, but she knew she wasn’t ready yet. Not until she figured out how he’d held the
aswan
still.

“My good friend Evan is a werebear, polar to be exact.”

Roxy sat there in disbelief. Even Heather’s not so quiet smirks were silenced. “That’s impossible. They’re extinct. Their people were killed off centuries ago.” Even though she tried to sound disdainful, the tremor belied it. “They are nothing but myths and legends now.”

“And so the humans would say about us.”

“It’s impossible,” she whispered.

“You want power, I can give it to you. Be at my side and rule the weres, the humans, and the Earth. However, you have to give up your plebian ways and look past your corner of the world.”

That brought her out of her stupor. “You can give me power? That kind of control?”
Power.
All she’d ever sought, all she really wanted. He could give her that?

***

Justin watched with disdain as Roxy fell so easily into his trap. Everything he said was true, but the were community had become too lax in recent years. Their wits and their powers sabotaged by their own human-like beliefs and fears. Still, someone with her ruthlessness would be good to have at his side.

“I can give you supremacy beyond any you’ve dreamed of. You must do as I say and follow my plans. Then the world will be at your feet, yours to command.”

He watched Roxy’s chest rise and fall rapidly as she assimilated his words. All too easy. He glanced in the mirror, and Heather glared daggers at Roxy. His smile that bloomed was real. Things were working according to his very specific design.

“Well, do we have a deal?” he pushed.

“Yes.” The coldness in her voice pleased him. Every step she took, she went in the direction he guided. His skills were nearly ready for the ultimate test.

His satellite phone rang. Speaking of. “Yes,” he clipped into the phone.

“The wolf shot with silver is not dead, and according to one of the others, the male isn’t either.”

“What?” he exploded.

“The male, we’re not sure what happened, but the woman, she was healed by the
aswan
your companion was so keen to kill.”

“That’s...interesting. It’s come about sooner than expected.”

“Yes. The were powers are being awoken faster than we had anticipated. This is very good news for my plans. We must work on a way of getting this
aswan
and testing her.”

Justin liked how Evan thought.

“I have just the thing for that,” he replied and looked again at Heather still clutching her notes. He knew how to handle her. Soon, no one would be able to stop him, not even Evan of the famed werepolar bears.

Chapter Sixteen

“Damn it, Lance! I’m not made of spun gold,” Lisa said grumpily. She wanted out of the hospital. Besides, he was the one who’d had surgery.

“You are infinitely more precious than spun gold,” Lance replied.

She kept the stern look on her face, despite the tingles of pleasure that sparked when he said it. “Hmph,” was all she said to that.

He took her chin in his hands and waited until she lifted her eyes before he spoke. “No one has ever seen someone do what you did for Moriah. The wound was gone—along with the bullet. Dr. Waverly wants to make sure the effects on you are within normal parameters.”

“
I
didn’t have surgery to repair my lungs,” she replied, still grumpy. His words didn’t comfort her. If anything, they made her more nervous. She already felt as if she stuck out from the rest of the pack like a sore thumb at a hammer convention.

Lance’s laughter danced along her spine, and her smile couldn’t be stopped. That he was there with her, loving her, comforting her, and kissing her every time they were left alone still surprised and delighted her. Part of her wished he wouldn’t stop at the kisses, but he’d just had surgery, so the other part of her didn’t want him to hurt himself.

“Between the surgery, the special medication the doc dumped down my throat, and my natural ability to heal, I feel great. Besides, the lungs had already started healing. It was only the ruptured outer lining that had to be patched so it would heal correctly.”

“And the silver scraped off.”

“Yes, and the silver scraped off. That hurt the most,” he admitted.

“I’m so sorry, Lance. I’ve never heard of a were using guns before.”

“None of us had. The ulfric and Doctor Waverly are both severely concerned. Somehow, someone’s figured out a way to keep silver liquid on the inside and still a hundred percent silver on the outside.”

Lisa gnawed her bottom lip. If one of her women were hit with one of those... “And the liquid? Is it a hundred percent silver as well?”

“The doctor doesn’t know. They’re testing my blood and Moriah’s as well. Problem is, I shifted really fast and dislodged the bullet. So some of the silver coated a lower lobe of my lungs and began to solidify, but he has no idea what the medium for keeping it liquid was.”

“And Moriah?”

“You pushed every bit of silver out of her as far as we can tell. She—”

“She is healthy as a horse, as the saying goes,” Moriah interrupted.

It interested Lisa that Kamiakin stood nearby. If she wasn’t mistaken, it had been him that had sat and howled next to Moriah as she lay dying. “I’m glad to hear it,” Lisa finally said after professionally inspecting Moriah for any subtle signs of illness.

All at once, Lisa found herself enveloped in a big hug, and a whispered, “Thank you. For everything,” by Moriah.

“I, uh, you’re welcome.” In all their time together, Moriah had never hugged her. Startling to be on the receiving end of one now.

“We’re leaving. I’ll tell you more when you’re out of the hospital.” Lisa noticed the frown both Lance and Kamiakin laid on Moriah.

“Lance?” Lisa asked after the other two left.

“What,” he mumbled, throwing a dark look to the doorway Moriah had just passed through.

“What is the ‘more’ that Moriah needs to tell me?”

“You need to rest,” he prevaricated.

The flash of anger that ran through her wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t care. “I’ve been resting,” she practically hissed. “I feel useless and helpless. All I did was—”

“All you did was heal a woman using words and magic you can’t remember. You literally saved her life as the bullet had made it through and nicked the heart. At least, that’s what Waverly says. How he knows, I couldn’t tell you.”

“I must admit, there’s something spooky about the medical people here,” she replied, allowing herself to be distracted.

“Whatever it is, just be careful. I don’t know them very well.”

“Oh,” she laughed gently. “I do. We’ve worked together many times. Now tell me.” Her voice hardened at the end.

Lance let out a blustery sigh as he looked away. “I can’t not tell you,” he finally answered. “I think you need to know.”

Now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know. The seriousness and worry in his voice sent a shiver through her. What the hell had been going on?

***

Nolan sat at the police station going over the sightings of Boris and Roxy. There’d been a flood recently. He knew too well that some of them were accurate. Despite the distance, he’d recognized Roxy leaving the area before the trees hid her from his view. Boris was missing but in bad shape. Kamiakin said he’d hurt the feral wolf severely, but human hunters had come in the area, and Boris had used their presence to get away.

“Damn it,” he said as he slapped his hand on his desk. Anger palpated through him, a vibrant, living thing. Boris and Roxy had to be off the streets. They were too dangerous. At least two dead bodies had been found on the west side, showing suspiciously similar marks on their body—similar to the pregnant women. But since the newest victims weren’t pregnant, law enforcement hadn’t put the pieces together. He had no absolute proof, but his gut told him the ex-lupa and feral of the Lupin pack had found a new home and held some power.

A thought occurred to him, and he shuffled through his papers until he came to the reports of statewide murders. One name in particular had struck him as sad as he remembered the name from his childhood. They had played together at a pack convention of sorts, and it had made him unhappy to think of someone he knew coming to such a human end. Stabbed and gutted. There it was. He read the name again. Yes, that’s the name he remembered, but he’d call his dad to be sure, even though he hated asking for help.

While the phone rang, he tapped his pencil. It never failed to raise his blood pressure when he had to ask his dad for help on pack business. His dad already made him feel as if he weren’t strong enough for the role as leader.

“Hi, Nolan,” his father’s voice rumbled across the airwaves. Even his voice held power.

Nolan grimaced since there was no one around to witness his weakness. “Hi, Dad. I have questions regarding that werewolf convention thing we went to when I was a kid.”

All the miles and electronics between them couldn’t hide the disapproval of his father’s silence.

“You know they are our
Cró Cruinnithe na Clainne
and not to be taken so frivolously.”

Nolan held the sigh back—barely. “Yes, Dad. I know. But I can’t pronounce that. I don’t know anyone who can, except you.”

“Then you will learn. There is another one this summer, and we are going.”

Stunned, Nolan didn’t know what to say. “This summer?
This
summer? Where is it being held this year?”

It’s in Chicago this year and is being hosted by Alaric Sentermain. Their family originates from Italy, and they are of the white wolves.”

His father dearly loved imparting information, and Nolan knew he should be grateful, or he’d have to ask for help more often. But how in the hell did his dad keep track of so much? He thought of the cases and the intricacies he could find and keep in his head. Maybe he should quit being so hard on his dad.

His dad continued, “The venue changes every year so as not to offend anyone or give any family more power than the others. And every two years, the leaders of the were community as a whole meet up with the families. You got out of the last one because you were on pack business.”

His father’s tone of voice suggested that even that excuse bordered on mutiny. “Dad, I need to know, is the name Justin Fullbright familiar to you? We called him Chance or Lucky because his name was the same as the pack leader’s eldest child.”

“A popular name with their pack, but yes, I remember him. He was of the third highest family, but not thought to be a true Alpha. As such, he would have been a disappointment to the leader at that time. I don’t know how the current leader of the Seathe pack thinks of him.”

Nolan was all too afraid he’d found out exactly what the current alpha thought of Justin—or Lucky as he suddenly recalled. It was Lucky’s youngest brother they called Chance.

“Why are you asking? Has something happened?”

“Yes. He’s on the list of murdered people from that area. Knifed and gutted.” Nolan pressed his lips together to keep the curses at bay then almost laughed at himself. His father didn’t believe in cursing, said it was disrespectful to do in front of the elders.
Old habits died hard. Particularly with my parents.

His father’s sudden intake of breath did surprise him though. “What is it, Dad?”

“We should have heard about this through the pack elders. Since the family of the second in line for leadership died in that plane crash last year, Lucky would have been next in line for leadership. It wouldn’t have been pretty if he hadn’t grown into an Alpha, unless he married an Alpha female.”

“And since we didn’t?”

“I have to check with the elders of other packs. It’s a courtesy to other packs to inform them of a ranking member’s death so that they may send emissaries to show their respects.”

Nolan’s head hurt. Every time he thought he might get a handle on things, something new happened. His dad had always seemed just instinctively to know how to deal with these things and what the other packs expected of him.

“Wouldn’t that mean a lot of powerful people in a position to hurt them?”

“Interfering in a funeral or a family in mourning is one of our greatest punishable offenses. It is an old law but has retained its power and importance, even among the younger generations,” Nolan’s father said.

He ignored the derision with which his dad said “younger generations” and instead replied, “I know it’s one of the most common rules we have among weres, and that it’s an ancient law that all weres follow, not just the werewolves.” There, maybe his dad would be placated he at least knew something about the old ways. “Please do what you can on finding out if others knew about Lucky, and keep me informed. I particularly want to know if other locals knew, and we were the only ones not told.”