Dead But Not Forgotten (34 page)

She checked her cell—no news on the runaway—and started the car. She took the same turn out of the parking lot as Remy's pickup. There was no sign of the truck on the road but she knew the route they'd take, and they'd only gotten a few minutes' start on her so catching them was going to be as easy as snagging a bug. Plus she had a good idea where Sookie's house was in relation to Merlotte's thanks to an in-depth Google Maps search; the satellite view made it way easier to recognize new locations if she ever needed to do a flyover. Her planning and preparation was something else that made her a good tracker, one as good as, if not better than, those werewolves with their supposedly superior noses. Not only was her snout nearly as sensitive as theirs, but she didn't need to have it stuck to the ground, and she could cover as much distance or more, and see things they couldn't, when she was in the air.

Holding on to her mental satellite image, she drove along, tongue absently worrying at something stuck in her teeth—a wing off that last bug she'd crunched—she planned how she was going to persuade the protective Remy to let her talk to his telepathic son. She caught sight of the pickup ahead and decided that playing it straight was her best chance. Remy looked like a decent guy and obviously wanted to help the owner of the scared voice his son had heard, so appealing to his good nature should do the trick.

About four miles along the road the pickup turned just as Luna expected. She kept a respectful distance as she tailed it down a tidy gravel drive bordered by dense woods. The drive was long, and she was starting to wonder if they would ever reach the end, when it opened out into a wide clearing. At its center was a comfortable-looking two-story house with a tin roof and steps leading up to a broad wooden porch. There was a small painted shed to one side, lots of flower beds filled with cheerful, colorful blooms, and a lawn chair on the grass that looked as if it were just waiting for someone to rush out of the house and soak up the late-afternoon fall sunshine.

Luna parked a bit away from Remy's pickup, which he'd turned so it faced anyone arriving. She jumped out, taking a good lungful of air. Her bat snout might be supersensitive, but (bad pun aside) her human nose wasn't anything to sniff at, either. Despite the waiting lawn chair, Sookie wasn't home, and, like Sam's trailer back at Merlotte's, no one had been in the house for a good couple of days. Luna briefly wondered if the pair were off somewhere together, then remembered that last she'd seen Sookie, she'd told Luna she was hitched up with the big blond Viking deader, Eric. And she'd heard Sam was still seeing that insane Were, Jannalynn.

Luna's feet crunched on the gravel as she walked slowly toward the truck. It had a shiny bull bar attached to the front; those things could do some damage if they hit you. Hell, the pickup alone would. And judging by the way Remy was eyeing her suspiciously through the windshield, he'd considered that, and had parked the truck front-facing deliberately.
Smart guy.
She held her hands out at her sides so she didn't spook him any more than tailing him here had already.

Remy stuck his head out the pickup's window, a deep frown on his face. “You lost or something, ma'am? That why you followed me down here, on private property?”

“I'm Luna Garza, a friend of Sookie's,” she said, offering him a placating smile as she stopped half a dozen feet away. “I know you and your son are relatives of hers, and I was hoping we could chat for a minute.”

Remy's frown got deeper as he gave her a good once-over. She kept the smile on her face, hoping that the sight of a tiny, smiling Hispanic woman with big eyes and a mass of curly brown hair would reassure him she wasn't dangerous. Oh, and if her size didn't reassure him, there was always her freckles (which she'd learned to love a long time ago). No one ever expected folk with freckles to be evil. Which, of course, she wasn't.

But Remy obviously wasn't the trust-the-small-woman-with-freckles type. He jerked his head toward the house. “We're just on our way to visit with Sookie,” he said. “If you're her friend, then we can chat with her.”

“Okay,” Luna said, “but she's not at home.”

“How do you know?” he said.

Luna poked her sneaker into the gravel. “Stones are noisy,” she said. “I think Sookie'd have heard us and come out of the house by now if she were here, don't you?”

Remy gave a reluctant nod.

“And I can tell with this.” Luna tapped the side of her nose. “I'm a shifter.”

Shock and fear rounded Remy's eyes. He moved his hand below the truck's window. “I got a gun, lady. And just so you know, it's loaded with silver bullets.”

Luna's gut twisted. She backed up a few steps, raising her hands, her thoughts whirling in panic.

Getting shot with silver, coupled with getting shot just for being what she was, was her worst nightmare. And not just hers; most weres worried about it, especially as the law wasn't exactly clear on what rights they had now that the world knew they existed. Hell, Luna had heard Sam's stepdad had shot Sam's mom when she'd told him she was a shapeshifter. (Luckily, the bullet hadn't been silver.) Sam's mom hadn't been the only one to get hurt; there'd been plenty others.

Even a couple of the Dallas werewolves she knew had run into trouble. One had told his boss, who'd freaking whipped out a dinky pistol and plugged the Were straight in his chest. (He'd healed up and been right as rain, apart from the whole losing-his-job thing.) The other hadn't been so lucky. He'd been killed by his own daughter (the twoey had married a straight human and had kept his other nature a secret from his family, something Luna thought was asking for a crapload of trouble, though nothing that deserved him ending up shot dead).

And the latest was the runaway they were all searching for. Poor kid was an orphan and had been in a children's home since he was two. He hadn't known he was a Were until he hit puberty, had gone all werewolf at his first full moon night before last, and had been shot by one of the counselors. The man had caught him attacking another boy. The counselor was in the hospital with a mauled and broken arm, and sadly the other kid was in a coma, though not from the injuries from the werewolf attack, but from the bullet in his chest. The report said the counselor's gun had gone off accidentally a second time when the werewolf had turned on him.

Thankfully, so far, there were enough vamps and weres in the local police that while the incident had made the news, the fact that the teenager was a Were had been kept out of it. And if the Dallas packmaster had his way, he was going to make sure that particular furry pile of dirty laundry never got aired. As soon as the runaway was found, the packmaster was going to deal with him in the old way.

Luna didn't think it was right, but with folks so riled up about shifters just existing, trying to get the teen Were a fair trial would likely only lead to more deaths. No sensible, decent person wanted to feed the sort of violence and hatred that had dogged the Weres since they'd gone public.

Thinking of sensible and decent people, Luna hoped her initial impression about Remy was right. Especially as, while she'd been mentally feeding her very own scary being-held-at-gunpoint nightmare, he seemed to be holding his own Mexican standoff and waiting for her to do something. As was Hunter, whom she could see peeking over his dad's shoulder, his face watchful and curious.

“Do you really want to shoot me in front of your kid?” Luna said, pleased her voice was calm and didn't betray the fear roiling inside her. “Just because I'm different?”

“I'm only gonna shoot you if you shift to wolf, ma'am,” Remy said flatly, “same way I'd do if you was anyone trying to hurt us. Nothing to do with you being different.”

“I'm not planning on hurting you. Or the boy,” Luna said, frantically trying to think of a way to convince him. An idea hit her. It was a bit sneaky, and risky, but if it worked, Remy would know she knew Hunter's secret (hopefully he wouldn't then shoot her on the spot) and it would save them all a lot of time. Time they needed if she was going to get them to tell her where to find the frightened shifter Hunter had heard.

She thought very clearly at the boy.
“I turn into a bat, Hunter. And I want to help the other person like me you heard, who was scared and crying.”

Hunter's eyes went saucer-round. “Dad!” He tugged on Remy's shirtsleeve. “She's a bat woman. She just told me. She wants to help the other voice. The one I heard.”

Remy shushed Hunter as a mix of emotions flashed across his face; fear, anger, exasperation, indecision, and finally resolve. Luna could see he was going to protect his son's secret no matter what. The glare he fixed on her confirmed it.

“You planning on telling anyone, ma'am?” he demanded.

She shook her head. “Nope, not my business. And Sookie's my friend. Plus I'm not the sort of lowlife who'd rat out a child. Kids are innocents and should be protected. I give you my word that his secret is safe with me.”

Remy glanced at Hunter with a hesitant expression. “She sound all right to you, son?” He tapped his son's head gently. “In there?”

“She was scared when you told her you had a gun, Dad,” the boy said, sounding way older than his five years.

“She still scared?” Remy asked.

“A bit,” Hunter replied.

Luna nodded in agreement. No way did she want to be shot.

“What about you, son?” Remy asked. “Anything in her head frighten you?”

“No, sir,” Hunter told him, again with more assurance than his age warranted. It made Luna wonder exactly what horrible thoughts he'd heard in the past.

Remy's shoulders sagged in resignation, and he gave Luna his full attention again. “What do you want from us, ma'am?”

“Is it okay if I put my hands down?” she asked. Her own shoulders were tense and tight from being held at gunpoint.

“Sure,” Remy said, with a shrug. “I haven't got a gun anyway.” He popped open the truck's door and showed her his empty hands. “Don't think they're the right kind of thing to have around children.”

Luna blinked, astounded, then burst out laughing as relief coursed through her. “Well, you freaking fooled me,” she said, shaking her head as she rubbed her arms to get the stiffness out of them.

One side of Remy's mouth twitched up in response. “Yeah, well, I meant to, ma'am,” he said. Then his expression turned curious. “You really turn into a bat, Ms. Luna?”

“I do.” Luna grinned. “Want to see?”

“Yes!” Hunter shouted, and clambered over his father to leap out of the truck, excitement lighting his face.

Remy got out behind him, placed a gentle admonishing hand on his son's shoulder, and said, “Son, mind your manners.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Hunter told him without taking his gaze off Luna. “Yes, please, Ms. Luna,” he said, “I'd be very happy to see you change into a bat.”

“Then I'd be very happy to show you, Mr. Hunter,” Luna replied, grinning wider. “After I have, maybe you and your dad could show me where you heard that voice?”

Hunter looked up at Remy, his face echoing Luna's question. Remy gave a broad smile, one that carried a whole world of relief. “We'd be very happy to do that.”

Luna nodded, boosted herself onto the hood of her car, and concentrated on her bat image. She caught the flare of sharp static in her mind—

And then, as her clothes fell in a heap, she flew, wings beating hard to lift her tiny body from the short dive. Finally, she caught a warm updraft that lifted her up through the heavy air, and, as she soared higher and higher, Hunter's delighted squeals lit up the bright blue sky around her like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Swooping back down, she saw the little boy jumping and waving his arms, laughing. Remy stood beside him, gazing up at her as she dived and darted through the air, a bemused expression on his face as if the world had suddenly become a stranger and more wondrous place. Luna looped the loop, and gave herself over to the sheer, heart-thudding exhilaration of being alive, and flying.