Leopard Moon (3 page)

Her fingers and toes began to morph, growing shorter, stubbier and lightly furred. Knife-sharp claws popped out of the skin between her finger and toes, making clicking noises against the sill. With one last look around, Kess leaped lightly to a thick branch a good ten feet away, latching onto it with clawed hands and feet. She scrabbled to the trunk and held still until the branches stopped shaking, then looked out through the needles. No one was there to see her.

She carefully made her way down the tree trunk, then crept through the backyard, finding her way mostly by hearing and touch, to the low stone wall that bordered the parking area. Satisfied that she had one escape route covered, she ghosted back through the yard and back up to the tree, pulling herself up using sleek, powerful muscles and clawed fingers. She couldn’t risk a full transformation to her leopard form now, but a little wasn’t going to hurt. She’d just make sure to eat well tomorrow to fuel the small transformation of tonight.

Kess inched back along the thickest branch until she felt it bend slightly beneath her weight. She stopped, backed up a bit, then launched herself toward her open window. She caught the frame, feet landing lightly on the sill, and slid into her room. She breathed out slowly, crouching on the rug, slowly letting her eyes and hands return to normal. When everything was as it should be, she stood and closed the window and curtains.

It was freezing in her room. She started a fire in the fireplace, content to watch the tiny flames begin to lick the kindling. This weather was going to take some getting used to. She had never ventured this far north before; her kind--werecats--preferred the warmer, more humid climates. This cold was not something she liked. If she could stay curled on the couch in front of the fireplace downstairs, then she might enjoy living up here, but she had to work, not hibernate. She was just going to have to deal with it. In the last year, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d had to get used to.

Adding another log to the fire, Kess eyed that bathtub. Oh, she wanted nothing more than a nice long soak in it, but tonight she needed sleep more. A quick hot shower was all she had energy for, so she stripped down and turned the water on as hot as it would go. When the bathroom was full of steam and condensation dripped off the mirrors and metal surfaces, she stepped inside, blissed out as the water pounded on sore and tense muscles.

She pulled her hair forward, working shampoo through the long strands. It was down to the waistband of her jeans now—she should probably get it cut soon. It would certainly make showering faster. But she liked her long hair; it was sleek and black and reminded her of the girl she used to be. As much as she disliked what she was and everything it had cost her, she wanted to keep some vestige of that girl from before.

With her hair over her shoulder, she soaped her back, feeling the raised scars of claw marks from previous fights with Sek. Weres healed quickly, but there were always white scars left behind from were-inflicted wounds. She quickly rinsed, not wanting to think about it. Bad enough he’d found her out at the last place. She would have to be more careful here. She turned off the tap and squeezed the excess water from her hair before wrapping herself in a towel.

When she opened the bathroom door, the billow of steam that preceded her fled like a ghost toward the ceiling. The bedroom was warmer now, thanks to the fire, but Kess still hustled to her duffle and pulled out a clean t-shirt for sleeping before returning to the sauna of the bathroom. The cool air was clearing the mirrors so she settled in to run a comb through her hair.

The girl she caught sight of in the mirror startled her for a moment. She hadn’t really had a chance to look at her reflection in three days. The face that stared at her was still hers, but subtle changes were working in it—the roundness of girlhood had been departing slowly over the past months, but now it was completely gone, leaving adult angular features set in a heart-shaped face. Her eyes were large, and a vivid greenish-gold. Her skin had long since lost its Miami tan and she was now paler than she’d ever been. There was a terseness about her mouth, and she knew she no longer smiled easily or often. She looked too thin, but that was due in part to being on the road and unable to eat regularly or well. She didn’t like to think about the werecat metabolic changes that required her to eat far more than was normal for a girl her size and to go heavy on the protein.

That metabolism was kicking into high gear as the moon waned. Legends said that werewolf changes followed the full moon and Kess took that as fact, since she hadn’t had occasion to meet one herself and didn’t really want to. But a werecat’s change tracked to the waning moon, and crested when there was no moon at all in the sky. That was when she and her brethren would be at their strongest. That was when the lure of the change would be at its height, and while no were had to change, there were consequences that came from ignoring your nature for too long.

She knew that as she grew, the integration of both parts of her—cat and human—would be seamless. The more often she changed, the more quickly it would happen. That was part of why she chose to fight against the change rather than embracing it. She’d seen what could happen if you let your animal instincts rule you.

Kess put her hands over her face for a minute. She hated what her life had become, and how messed up her family was. But she had to leave, for the good of her clan. They couldn't afford anything that might cause a clan rift right now so it was better for everyone that she left. And honestly, what could she expect her father to do about Sek anyway? Hospitalize him? Drug him up to his eyeballs? Kill him? None of those were options. The only thing that made any sense was for her to stay as far away from her brother as possible.

Knowing all of this still didn't help. She hated running, hated the changing, hated having her life dictated by something as stupid and distant as the moon. In her bag, she had a daily planner with the phases of the moon, but she didn’t need it, not really. Her body knew what it wanted and what it needed and when it needed it, and most of those needs weren’t in line with what Kess wanted for herself. And then bring the clan into it, and all of their wants and needs and expectations, and Sek…

She pushed away from the sink quickly. Nope. Not going to think of him, not here, not now, and certainly not when she was this tired. Kess gave her hair one last wringing with the towel and dragged her comb through it a couple of times. Everything else could wait until the morning. She padded back to the bedroom, dropped another log on the fire, closed the grate and climbed into bed.

In the warm darkness, she said a silent prayer to whatever might be listening that this time, in this place, maybe she could find some peace.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cormac was jogging through the late autumn woods, pacing off the perimeter of his family’s property. The McNeils owned a couple hundred acres of the deeply forested mountains in western North Carolina and his family worked hard to keep it private and protected. Burke, his cousin, loped beside him in the form of a large grey wolf. Cormac had lost the rock/paper/scissors game, which meant he had to do the patrol as a human. It was faster and easier in wolf shape, but the pack's Alpha and Beta--Cormac’s and Burke’s fathers, respectively--had determined it was better, not to mention safer, for one person in each patrol party to remain unchanged.

It meant that he was the one responsible for calling for help if they needed it, for dealing with any interlopers on their property, and for keeping the clothes for the other in case a quick change was needed. And it meant that Burke got to run along tirelessly beside him, grinning his smug wolf grin.

Cormac's pack didn't look markedly different from regular wolves. The only difference that set them apart was size. Werewolves were larger, weighed significantly more and stood taller at the shoulder. Burke's wolf shoulder came up almost to Cormac's hip; an actual wolf would stand maybe three feet high.

It was getting on towards dusk and Cormac knew they'd be running out of light soon. He knew he slowed Burke down so he picked up his pace, only noticing that Burke wasn’t following him when he didn’t feel the occasional brush of a furry body against his running pants. Cormac stopped and looked behind him. Burke was moving up a game trail they had passed. It branched off to the left of the main trail. He beckoned Cormac over with a jerk of his head.

Cormac eased over, edging past Burke to see what his cousin had found. He moved slowly up the game track, on the lookout for what might have attracted Burke's attention. Hidden in the brush was a steel trap, probably meant for a bobcat or maybe a fox. It wasn’t one of the humane catch and release ones; this one was designed to snap on the animal’s leg and disable it until the trapper came back. Cormac found a heavy branch and triggered the trap, flinching as the metal teeth bit deeply into the bark. Burke growled low in the back of his throat and Cormac nodded.

"Someone’s poaching on our land. There may be more of these out here, so keep a nose out." Most traps were baited with a strong scent marker, so Burke would be able to sniff it out.

Cormac pulled out his cell, relaying the information in a text to his dad so that the next patrol would know to be on the lookout and the word could be spread throughout the pack. Trapping was allowed in North Carolina but this was private land. He knew no one in his family would have set those traps. They didn’t have need of another animal’s fur. Most of them came equipped with their own.

He and Burke continued on, covering ground quickly. They were almost finished with the sweep of their assigned part of the property when they heard something coming through the trees. They stopped and waited. After a few more minutes of rustling and thrashing, a short man emerged from another game trail carrying a bloody sack. In his hands was a rifle. He stopped short when he saw Cormac and Burke-wolf.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. "You're trespassing on private land," Cormac said, keeping a sharp eye on the man's hands. Burke put a little space between them, making sure the man had two targets.

"I didn't see no sign." The man held the rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

"Doesn't mean you aren't trespassing." Cormac chose to give the man the benefit of the doubt--maybe he hadn't seen the large posted signs strewn throughout the edges of the property or maybe he thought ignoring the signs was worth the risk. The man's clothes were worn and dirty and he looked haggard. He could be in desperate straits with the economy the way it was. And desperation made men do a lot of dangerous things. "What's your name?" Cormac asked.

The man looked uncomfortable. "Silas Turner."

"Well, Mr. Turner, now you know." Cormac spoke calmly. He wasn't really worried that he and Burke would be hurt; he was more concerned for the man's safety and the anonymity of the pack.

"Man's trying to make a living is all." The man nervously stared from Cormac to the wolf.

Cormac nodded. Trapping was a hell of a way to make a living, even as a supplement to regular income. He wasn't entirely unsympathetic, but he couldn't have traps set on his family's land. Werewolves were smarter and stronger than regular wolves, but they could still be hurt in a trap. And having a stranger traipsing through their property was never a great idea.

"You can take what's in the bag this time. My people will trigger the rest of the traps. You're done trapping here. And pass the word to your friends that this land is off limits." He heard Burke growl for emphasis. The man jumped at the sound and the rifle came up.

"I'd really advise you NOT to do that," Cormac said in a soft voice, watching the wavering rifle barrel. "He likes guns even less than he likes traps." He highly doubted that the rifle was loaded with silver shot--silver was poisonous, but not actually deadly to werewolves--but a shot from a rifle could still kill either of them if accurate enough.

"That ain't no dog." He backed away from Burke. The wolf's lips were pulled back in a snarl and the fur on his neck was standing at attention.

"Not entirely, no." A lot of people up in the mountains had wolf-dog hybrids. He decided to play that angle rather than outright tell the man it was a real grey wolf standing in front of him. If the man was desperate enough, he might decide it was a good idea to come back and try trapping wolves. A wolf pelt might fetch a nice sum. No need to tempt fate.

"He's pretty big. He yours?" The man lowered the rifle back to his side and there was awe in his eyes.

Cormac bit back a grin. Burke would be pissed if Cormac ever referred to him as a pet. He should start carrying around some Milk Bones just to mess with him. "He belongs to himself."

The man nodded, still warily watching the big animal. Now that the gun was not aimed at him, Burke had gone back to a relaxed watchfulness, snarl gone. "I'm gonna go now."

"We'll follow you out." Cormac let the man get a bit of a lead then walked after him with Burke following. Just because the man seemed suitably cowed didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. He had a gun. They'd be stupid if they just walked away without making sure he was off the property.

He sent a text to his father with a quick rundown of what had happened. It would be good for the pack to be aware that trappers were out and about on the fringes of the property. Then Cormac turned his attention back to the man in front of him. They were heading toward the road that bordered the west side of their land. An old black pickup truck sat on the shoulder. Burke and Cormac stopped at the tree line, watching as the man threw the sack in the back then climbed into the cab and started the truck. They didn't turn around until the truck was well out of sight.