Crying for the Moon (21 page)

Tish narrowed her eyes and suddenly the room became several degrees cooler. Alex realized that he usually took Tish’s pleasantness for granted and he was startled at the sudden sense of danger that permeated the air. He glanced at Julie, who shivered and folded her arms tightly across her chest. He could see that the fine hair was standing up on her skin.

“Peter’s not alone anymore,” Tish said with an edge to her voice. “He’s a part of us now and we’re part of him. If you wish to deal with Peter, you must deal with all of us.”

“Okay. Now see, this is the part I have a problem with.” Julie’s unease vanished as her anger flared. “You guys talk about your ‘bonds’ and your pack and how close all of you are but Peter became involved with you people
against his will.
What Nick did to him was no different from rape in my book.”

“Okay. Leaving now.” Alex edged toward the door.

“You. Wait.” Both women spoke simultaneously, flashing furious glances at Alex before glaring at each other again. Alex stopped moving.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tish bit off her words as though she were tearing out chunks of Julie’s flesh.

“Oh yeah?” Julie placed a fist on one hip. “The way I see it, you’re not a pack. You’re a fucking
cult.
”

Tish bared her teeth.

“Right,” Alex said. “I’m thinking you ladies really don’t need me hanging around right now, so I’m just going to go tidy up in the other room.”

“Alex.” Tish’s eyes snapped with anger as she looked at him. “Would you be so kind as to bring up your computer? I have something I’d like to show Julie here.”

Confused, but not daring to question Tish, Alex led the way into the little den where he’d set up the computer. He brought it up out of sleep mode and opened the browser.

Tish smiled briefly at the phases of the moon widget and rapidly typed out a Web address on the keyboard.

“What’s this?” Julie frowned, leaning in to peer at the screen. Curiosity made Alex look as well.

Across the top of the page were arrest photos of at least half a dozen men. Beneath each of their faces was a compilation of smaller images, many of them high school yearbook and Facebook photos. Some of the men had as many as twenty pictures associated with them.

“This is a Web site your brother created.” Tish pointed at the smiling faces on the screen. “These are the people that these men have killed.” She indicated the mug shots and then scrolled down the page. “You’ll notice that the top six men on this page are all deceased themselves. Now, if you’ll pay attention to the dates and locations….” She clicked on a mug shot and a map appeared. Small pins noted the burial sites of victims.

“This man was killed in the sixties outside of LA. And this man…,” Tish clicked on a second picture, “presumably was killed by a pack of wild dogs in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.”

Alex suddenly saw the pattern. He grinned broadly at Julie’s confusion. “They’re serial killers.” He turned to Tish. “Nick said something the other day about them being tasty. I should have known he wasn’t joking. He must’ve been hunting them for years.”

Tish nodded. “He was hunting for just such a person in the Arizona desert when he stumbled upon Peter.” She turned to Julie with a severe expression. “You just don’t understand. The killer had already picked Peter as his next target. Nick was in wolf form in full hunting mode when he ran into the two of them that night. If Nick hadn’t bitten him, Peter would have died. Your brother would have been just one more statistic in the news—just one more hiker that fell victim to nature.”

“You don’t know that. Peter could have escaped. He will never escape being a werewolf. This is supposed to make me feel better?” Julie’s lips tightened. “This,” she waved at the computer, “is supposed to absolve Nick of everything he’s done?”

“No one asks to become a werewolf. Nick made the best of a terrible situation and don’t think a single day doesn’t go by where he doesn’t regret turning Peter into a werewolf as well. He didn’t want Peter to die that night. He did the only thing he could do to save Peter’s life. He cares very deeply for Peter. We
all
do.”

“Well, bully for him and the rest of you too.” Julie put her fists on her hips as she faced Alex. “How can you possibly be friends with these people? Can’t you see how dangerous they are?”

“I know.” Alex heaved a deep sigh. “It’s shameful and wrong and it goes against everything I was brought up to believe in.” At Julie’s nod of agreement, he said sadly, “It’s just not the thing for a well-bred vampire to do, you know?”

Julie’s face drained of color, blanching out as though Alex had fed upon her. “You’re joking, right? No. Of course not.” She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she looked a little dazed before she sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “I have to go to work now. This isn’t over. I’m coming back to talk to Peter one way or another.”

Alex and Tish exchanged a long look when Julie left the room. “So,” Alex said, leaning in to look at the Web site again. “Who else you got on this thing?”

T
OWARD
noon, when Alex went to put out the trash, EPT was there, winding his way around Alex’s ankles.

“There you are,” Alex said with relief. He wondered how the cat knew it was safe to come back out and figured it must be one of those animal things. “I was worried about you,” he chided the cat. EPT made a bid for scooting inside the house when Alex opened the door and he stomped his foot at the cat, which resulted in the tabby flopping on his side to roll on the wooden deck.

“Cute doesn’t cut it with me,” Alex said with fond firmness. “You’re not coming in the house.”

EPT narrowed his eyes to half slits before stalking off, tail in the air and shuddering slightly, highly affronted.

Nick’s pack was sprawled all over the living room in the same, sated way as they’d done the day before, but now there seemed to be a peace to their languid state that had not been present earlier. Toward the early afternoon, Duncan roused himself to head into town and he came back with a battered tool kit and several bags from the local hardware store. He’d grumbled over the sad state of Alex’s breaker box and then settled himself down to work. Nick had risen, stretched, and offered to lend a hand, while Peter had called out suggestions from his position on the couch. Tish had merely rolled her eyes and shared a grin with Alex before suggesting that the two of them go shopping. They’d returned to the house late that afternoon with extra towels and bedding, as well as more food.

Tish pulled out a large, cast-iron pot that she’d inherited from her grandmother and began putting together the ingredients for jambalaya, explaining the difference between the Creole and the Cajun versions as she worked. Alex hung out in the kitchen with her, watching Tish as she prepared the food. He sipped a glass of Merlot, conscious that though the smells of simmering meat, vegetables, and fish should have its appeal, all he really wanted was Tate.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Why did you ask Tate to ride into town with you yesterday?” Alex looked down into his wine as he spoke, admiring the play of light in its ruby-red depths as he rotated the glass idly.

Tish’s smile was enigmatic. Alex couldn’t help but think that Tish was a good physical match for Tate. They were both muscular and athletic. Tish moved with a sort of grace that bespoke years of training of some kind; Alex suspected she had been a dancer at some point in her past life. Where Tate was pale with vibrant red hair, Tish’s skin was a creamy bronze. Her short hair curled attractively around the lines of her skull, fitting it like a cap, the dark strands shiny with health and vitality. Alex felt like a big, gangling colt beside her compact beauty.

Tish raised an eyebrow at him, as though reading his mind. “I wasn’t hitting on him, if that’s what you think. He wouldn’t be interested anyway.” She smiled again, her expression turned inward as though recalling a different memory. She gave a little shrug as she stirred some chopped peppers and onions into the pot. “It’s plain to see you two are obviously into each other at the moment. You vampires seem a lot more flexible on that point than the were. Or is that just my perception?”

Alex thought about it for a moment. “No, I think you’re right. We certainly view attraction as being mostly about the way someone tastes and smells rather than gender. Though I’ve always preferred men, myself.” Alex realized that he’d never been so attracted to anyone as he was to Tate, and he flushed as he remembered how generous Tate was in bed. It was certainly an unexpected bonus.

“I’ve never known you to be with a woman,” Tish acknowledged. “Is that common among your people?”

“Such marked gender preferences? I doubt it. We vampires seem to be a fickle lot.” Not like the were, who formed life bonds with a pack and stuck to it, come hell or high water. Alex envied them in that. It made Duncan’s history of possibly being kicked out of his former pack all the more unusual. “I noticed you didn’t answer my question. Nice diversion, though.”

Tish shot him an unexpectedly sly little glance, brimming with mischief, before she sobered a bit. “Mostly, I just wanted to know more about him. We, as in all of us, are placing our lives in his hands, don’t you think?”

She had a point. Alex had involved Tate in their lives to a marked degree without even giving Nick’s pack a choice in the matter.

Tish forestalled Alex’s apology, waving her wooden spoon as she spoke. “I know, I know. You were doing what was best for Peter at the time. We all appreciate that, Nick most of all. But you have to admit: it’s a little unusual, right?”

Alex nodded. “I can’t explain. I trust him. Maybe I shouldn’t on such short acquaintance.”

“I didn’t say that.” Tish set down the spoon and wiped her fingers on a dish towel before turning down the heat on the stove. “I just wanted to get to know him better. All Nick can think of right now is how Peter is doing. He wouldn’t question Tate’s assistance even if he had his doubts; which he doesn’t, by the way. Duncan’s not the kind to worry either way. He always assumes there’s nothing he can’t handle and I don’t know that he’s not right. Duncan is a survivor.” Tish paused to smile. “You aren’t exactly thinking straight yourself.”

Alex felt his face flush again. “I normally have better sense than that, don’t I?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Tish said. Alex wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue at Tish, who choked on laughter and wine just as she was drinking from her own glass. “He makes a nice change from Victor,” she said, when she could speak again.

Alex felt his face freeze up. “You guys never really liked Victor, did you?”

“Honey,” Tish said, her Southern drawl becoming more prominent. “Victor never liked
us
.”

Alex acknowledged that truth with a rueful smile and a nod.

“Come on,” Tish said, obviously changing the subject. “This needs to simmer a while. Let’s go see what trouble the boys are up to now.”

T
ATE
came for dinner, but did not stay the night. “I have to be in town early tomorrow morning,” he said by way of apology.

When the two of them had a moment alone, Alex said, “There’s no reason why you can’t leave some things here if you like.”

He’d always thought that Tate had an engaging smile but this time it was beatific.

“I appreciate that.” Tate leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “But it’s a matter of having the right medical supplies with me this time. I have a big house call in the morning with lots of animals to vaccinate. Also, I didn’t just want to assume that you wanted me to stay or anything.” He ducked his head and looked amazingly shy for an instant, his fair skin turning splotchy and red with embarrassment.

Alex thought the fact that Tate didn’t flush handsomely was ridiculously adorable, and a cooler part of his mind warned him to be careful. He was straying into lovesick territory and that was something he’d vowed he’d never do.
People like you don’t get what you want
, he reminded himself.

It was hard to keep his heart guarded around Tate. For one thing, the man was just so damned affectionate. He frequently reached out to touch Alex, to stroke his thigh when they were sitting next to each other on the couch, or to touch the small of his back when Alex leaned forward. He’d close his fingers around Alex’s hand for no apparent reason; he’d curl against him so that his leg draped across Alex’s hips when they were in bed together. He’d hug Alex on their greetings and departures like they might never see each other again, a full-body hug with hands that moved languorously down Alex’s back as he tucked his nose into Alex’s shoulder and breathed in his scent.

Alex had never experienced such easily given affection in his very long life. Not even with his parents, who he knew loved him. It just wasn’t in their nature. Tate made him crave it in a way that told him he would mourn its loss when he and Tate eventually parted. Sooner or later, Alex would move on. He ignored the little voice that reminded him that he could make Tate his companion. He’d always expected a companion to be his equal, much like his mother had been for his father. Victor’s cohorts had treated their companions as though they were slightly better-than-average pets. The thought of Tate aging and dying without becoming a companion flashed upon Alex like a lightning strike, and he shoved it ruthlessly away.

Just as Tish announced that dinner was ready, Peter’s cell heralded the death of the Wicked Witch of the West. Peter got up carefully from the couch and went to take the call on the front porch; Nick watched him go with a hooded expression in his eyes. Tate turned a gleeful expression on Alex, obviously remembering that Peter had assigned that tone to Julie, but then changed the subject to ringtones in general when he perceived Nick’s tension.

Alex decided to play along. “So, you’re saying you assign personal ringtones to everyone you know?”

Tate tapped the side of his head. “Only in here. It’s an expensive indulgence, otherwise. But yeah. I give everyone a ringtone after I meet them.” His eyes invited Alex to ask him for details.