Werewolf Moon (The Pack Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

The pack reached the outskirts of Paris, where Raya rented a small farmhouse and a good-sized barn for the numerous horses they’d brought with them. Raya and Petra had learned the horse trading business well. They carried several breeds; each section of Europe had different tastes in horseflesh ranging from the heavy but stable breeds to the muscular but hardy donkeys. Pack Lupeinescu prided itself on carrying at least eight breeds of horses and donkeys.

As Petra walked into the city through a poverty-stricken area she noticed a large, elegant church right standing tall in the midst of the poorest section of town. Out of sheer curiosity, she hiked to it and walked into another world.

Candles burned in large racks near the door and there were a small number of pews set out in lines from the door to the upraised altar down front. The unfortunate could be seen in the shadows of the main hall, sitting or lying on the chilly stone floor eating what was obviously refuse. Petra was horrified; hundreds of souls were here, tucked into corners, curled up under pews, some of the braver persons used the pews as beds.

Even with the rack of sputtering candles, it was darker than the inside of a horse’s arsehole, as Raya would say. How was she to post a list and, moreover, how were the people to see well enough to respond to it? This would take some thought.

She made her way back into the welcome sunlight and instantly had the answer, chiding herself for taking this long to figure it out. Promptly she pulled a thin piece of bark out of her backpack, one of several where Raya had written job listings in several languages. Using a bit of sticky mud mixed with water, she fixed one to the church wall just near the entry where the occupants couldn’t help but see it.

She headed back to the small barn they’d rented and wait to see who appear for a job, if anyone did.

***

After no takers in nearly five days, Petra was ready to call it quits. This town was simply too large to have heard job news from the smaller villages they’d visit in the other cities across Europe.

Resigned to a have a wasted week she began to pack up the meager supplies she’d brought. The wolf in her smelled the arrival of the first applicants, a familiar yet strange scent and she whirled in a crouch toward the barn door.

As fast as she moved, Raya moved faster, she hadn’t even seen him arrive! He simply appeared between her and the painfully-thin Japanese man at the barn door. Actually he’d leaped in front of her, lashing one accurate foot out to knock her sideways into a stall—well out of reach of the stranger.

She stood and began to shake off the straw.

“You devil. Don’t you think I can take care of myself?” she was so indignant that it took several seconds to realize Raya wasn’t responding, hadn’t even looked in her direction. There was a low, vicious growl emanating from deep in his throat and from the look of him, Petra observed that Raya was acting on instinct.

“What the hell was going on? Who was this thin Japanese man propped in the doorway from sheer weakness, and why was Raya responding to him as if he poses a threat?”

As if he heard her thoughts and agreed, the Japanese man eyed her briefly and bowed his head in a show of respect. A brief suspicion went through her mind but no, surely not.

Not in this place, and assuredly not in that jam-packed poor house of a church. It wasn’t possible. Just as she’d decided that, the man spoke for the first time.

“Raya, Trans-Alpha. Petra, Alpha to the Trans. I would ask mercy for myself and my mate. My son was snatched from her arms two days ago.”

To Petra’s horror, those slanted black eyes began filling with tears. She shot Raya a panicked look, for a moment their eyes locked, and they had one of those unspoken discussions common to long-term couples. Raya nodded briefly and turned to the Japanese man.

“What is your name and what happened? Come, sit down.”

The man stumbled toward the seats around the dining table and fell into one, panting heavily.

He caught his breath and spoke slowly, “I am Itchiko and I am Samurai.”

For a moment, the man’s head lifted proudly exposing his stick-thin neck, but without the nourishment for pride his body failed him and he slumped forward onto his elbows.

“I am of Pack Bushido. We were five wolves including my mate Chizuko and my—my son, Akiyo,” Itchiko paused and forced his spine straight, his eyes stared straight ahead. Petra caught the shimmer of tears in those dark eyes and was suddenly filled with dread over the coming story.

“Our pack, we bother nobody. We fabricate and sell swords the old way. Never had trouble, never... until Antoine shifted in the wrong place. He is young, Antoine, only lived since last century and just eighteen then. No sense,” Itchiko shook his head once, sharply.

“Toine admitted he’d shifted in a bad place, just in front of a bar, but said he was sure no one saw him and he was so frightened he came right back home.”

Raya winced; Itchiko caught his eye and nodded. “I insisted that the pack leave immediately, but the one female did not want to go. We have been here nearly forty years and for Vanessa this is home,” Itchiko said with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Petra felt a bolt of electricity shoot up her spine, triggered by a feeling of impending doom. She didn’t like where this story was going and neither did Raya, by his narrowed eyes and lowered brows.

“You can likely guess what happened then,” Itchiko said, voice heavy. “Our place was surrounded by guys in white uniforms of some kind. They threw something in the window. Smoke spewed in all directions and we tried to exit, we couldn’t even see five palms in front of our faces. In the fray, Akiyo vanished. My mate Chizuko thought I had him: I thought he was with her. Now he’s gone because of my negligence,” Itchiko said, voice tight with tears.

“Rather because some young asshole disobeyed rules and shifted in public, in front of a damn bar no less,” Petra said, her voice dripping acid. “Kid should be punished, Seriously punished.”

Itchiko seemed to become smaller as his shoulders slumped, his head fell forward onto his chest and even his legs buckled. “We are Samurai, Pack Bushido. Antoine had been in training for ninety years, and he—he punished himself,” he said. “Toin, he committed seppuku before I could stop him. In one day we went from a strong pack of five, down to three, and my son is gone.”

Pack Lupeinescu froze, nobody daring to look at anybody else. Petra was thinking that with Charissa and Erigny, she and Raya made four members. Itchiko and the lovely Chizuko would only be two more—if they didn’t find his son.

Itchiko needed a pack and Pack Lupeinescu needed a Samurai warrior. No better protection to be had, Petra knew. Now to talk Raya into it.

“Right. We need to get the hell out of here also,” Raya said decisively. “If someone followed your pack already, who’s to say they didn’t do it again and follow you here?”

If Itchiko’s head could hang any lower, it would have. “I am aware, but I took all precautions and I had to protect my mate, my Chizuko. You must understand,” he said to Raya.

“I understand you brought danger to every single member of my pack, in an attempt to gain safety for one of yours.” Raya’s voice remained even, not a hint of rage. Yet he was pacing in short, quick steps: a sure sign of rising rage.

Petra recognized it and raised a fast brow at Charissa and Erigny, who eyed each other and then the table as if they’d never seen one before. Pack Lupeinescu knew what was coming even if the Japanese wolf didn’t.

Raya came to a halt in front of Itchiko’s table. Chizuko had probably picked up on the amount of sheer stress pouring off the Trans Alpha as he leaned over and deliberately put his face not seven inches from the Japanese were, who simply returned the Alpha’s stare without any other movement.

“In your desperation you brought danger to my table. To my mate: to my pack, Lupeinescu pack. In the old days, you’d not survive such a transgression.” Raya maintained his aggressive stance for two more beats, staring the Japanese were directly in the eyes, then stood and relaxed. “These aren’t the old days. Instead, these are days when Pack Lupeinescu requires a Samurai. You and your mate require a pack.” He smiled at the Japanese were, and it was his normal, calm smile. “Would you both care to join us?”

Chapter Two

Move This!

Itchiko started to return Raya’s smile, but it froze on his face. In the space of a heartbeat, the Were went from a relaxed Japanese human to a fully alert warrior. “We go. Now.”

Raya didn’t move, only cocked one brow.

The Japanese warrior expelled a short blast of air. “You wanted a Samurai: you now have one. Do as I say or pay the consequences, which can be quite dear.” He whipped around, addressing his mate over his shoulder as he went, “Chizuko. With me.”

The tiny Japanese woman instantly rose and followed her mate from the room. Pack Lupeinescu waited a half beat.

“You heard the man,” Raya said abruptly. “Let’s get out of here.” Suddenly the kitchen was in violent motion as pack members rose, looked for their possessions and made for the back door where Chizuko’s small back was vanishing directly into the corn field. “Pack Lupeinescu, follow Chizuko and do as Itchiko instructs. From this day he is Beta.” So saying, he turned and took the nearby stairs, two by two.

Petra stared at her pack as they half ran out the door, and then at the empty steps. Finally she sighed and raced up the stairs exactly as her mate had, to find him standing on a chair fiddling around deeply in the closet.

“What you looking for?” Petra wondered.

“Weapon,” he responded briefly.

She jumped. “Could you be a little less explicit?”

“Something I’ve kept around just in case,” Raya said as he dug through layers of winter clothing in the top of the closet. “Ah ha! Here we go.” He carefully hefted a long white box from the top of the closet to the bed, then stood for a moment staring down at it. He shook his head, opened it, and said “Voila.”

Petra stared down at—what was that? One end had a bag full of some black powdery substance. There were three objects next to the bag: to Petra’s eyes, they looked like metal tubes. Finally there was a coiled rope, of a material unfamiliar to Petra. Puzzled, she shrugged. “What do we do with this?”

“You do nothing. Me, I set up a little surprise around the house in case we do have visitors tonight. Not much liking the sound of these people.”

“Me either,” Petra said, heart-felt. “What can I do to help?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Raya said with a grin. Soon he had her running back and forth from the kitchen while he mixed various substances together in each of the tubes. It wasn’t a fast operation. Petra figured it took almost two hours before the objects were deemed ready, although ready for what she had no idea.

“That’s it. Now I want you to go meet the rest of the pack behind that market on the Seine where we left the boat. I’ll be there within thirty minutes, and then we’re out of here.” He reached over and gave her a hard kiss, then turned and suddenly stopped. “You might hear quite a loud bang. Ignore it.” With that, he was gone.

Petra trotted down the stairs and out the door without ever looking back.

Chapter Three

Things That Go Boom

Raya walked around the back of the farmhouse, his mind calculating where best to put the small weapons he’d created. When he realized how far the sun had sunken, he knew he was out of time. He walked quickly but carefully to the front door of the old farm house and laid one of the objects under the mat in front of the door.

Now that he had each location fixed in his mind, it was just a matter of setting them up and making sure they weren’t visible. The second one went at the base of the stairs, under a lumpy old rug hand-crocheted by a drunk as Petra had said. He grinned and gave it a pat before trotting to the top of the stairs for the best spot of all.

Earlier, he’d taken some of Petra’s clothes including underwear out of her bag. She’d been curious, and when he’d explained her mouth had dropped. She hadn’t believed such a ruse would ever work, but Raya knew it would. The nature of the wolf would ensure that it did. Out the window, the sun was squatting on the horizon: he was out of time.

He left Petra’s old silk skirt hanging over the top step with a little surprise tucked under it. Then he dropped her shirt, an old bra and finally knickers in a line leading straight to the master bedroom. No time to admire his artistry now, so he ran lightly down the stairs and out the back door into the woods.

Once he’d made a large circle, he wound up a hundred feet from the old house’s entryway. In front of him was the end of the odd-looking rope, which led directly to the first surprise at the base of the stairs. Once again his tree-climbing skills were paying off although this time he had a brand new pair of opera glasses in his pocket. This was a sight he didn’t intend to miss, so he could describe it to Itchiko. Cold comfort considering the loss of his son, but the Japanese would be sure to feel a modicum of relief anyway.

The sound of hooves clopping along the lane alerted Raya that he was about to have company. He shinnied down the tree, lit a small fire and dropped the end of the rope in it. It caught, and began fizzling in a direct line toward the house. Satisfied, he climbed up and settled comfortably into a fork in the branches, pulled out the opera glasses and was ready. To his delight, the fizzling rope was barely visible as the sun hadn’t yet set. By the time it was dark, the part of the rope that was alight would no longer be outside the house. All he could now was pray to a higher power that the visitors would be by then inside the house.