Moon Crossed (Werewolf Hunter Series): Season 1 (Episodes 1-6) (Crescent Hunter) (10 page)

“No, really!”
He has to believe me.

“Then why do you
reek of him?” He awaits an answer. “I can even smell him
on you after your shower.”

“Pants.” I
make the realization. “I carried his pants back.”

“That's it?
Pants?” He's dubious. “You really expect me to believe
that you smell so strongly of him because you carried his pants?”

“Yes. First,
because it's true. Second, because we really are just friends.”
I shake my head that he doesn't trust me. “Hey, don't you dare
turn the focus on me. Since your little witch hunt has reached a dead
end, let's get back to you.”

“I met her at a
party. She's super sweet, I helped her when she got sick and passed
out on me,” he explains, but there's more to it than that.

“Locke, please, I
can see that little spark of elation in your eyes. You like her,”
I tease.

“I do, but I know
and follow the rules.” He gets up and pushes his chair in,
searing me with his eyes. “Unlike some people I know.”

“Are you judging
me?”

“Yes, I am.”
He walks out the kitchen door, stops, turns around, and comes to give
me a hug. “And I'm glad you're a rule breaker, otherwise we'd
be lost without you.”

“Yes, you would.”
What I don't say is how lost I'd be without them.

“But seriously,
please be careful with Cole. He's a great guy as long as you're not a
girl.” He warns, “Honestly, I don't like the way he looks
at you.”

“How does he look
at me?”

“The same way you
look at him, and it scares the crap out of me.” He pulls away
from me, holding my hands. “I love you both and know it would
be disastrous.” He blows out a breath. “He doesn't know
how to be sincere and you are so naive...” He trails off, not
wanting to finish his thought.

“I am not naive,”
I protest.

“Claire, you
still think he just wants to be friends.” His tone is
patronizing.

“Doesn't he?”
I pull my lips into a thin line. “He's been nothing but a
gentleman. He hasn't expressed anything other than just wanting to
talk and spend time with me, no different from you guys.”

“But he is
different from us, and that's how he sets up the kill.” He
blows out a breath. “Don't be flattered by him, don't be taken
in. He's only interested in one thing, just remember that.”

This argument can go on
for days; nothing Locke says to me about Cole is going to sink in
because I just can't believe it to be true. Cole has no interest in
me for many different reasons, the least of which being that I'm a
hunter and I'm not his type. “I will, and I'm telling you: we
are just friends.”

“Okay.” He
turns back toward the door. “I'm going to get some sleep. I'll
see you tonight?”

“Not tonight, I
have business up north.” That's our code for me being on
patrol.

“Okay, be
careful.” He calls out from the stairs.

“Always.”

Tonight should be
pretty quiet. At this point in the cycle, any moon-touched wolves
from the previous full moon have already been tracked down and dealt
with. Most nights I enjoy patrol, providing nothing happens. Red Top
Mountain is pretty calm, in any case. I have a great relationship
with the Red Top pack; Locke and Tor are both from this pack and they
usually give me a heads up if there's any trouble brewing.

Things have been very
normal tonight, not much going on. It's been at least three weeks
since I've had to make a kill. I always keep a close watch on the
news, looking for animal attacks in my area. It's almost always a
moon-touched wolf attack. I'm not expecting any trouble tonight.

There are several
wolves in the area; I can feel them. I spend most of the night
avoiding them, staying as quiet as possible. I stay out of their
business, sticking to the trees unless I smell trouble. Since part of
my area is in the state forest there are often campers about this
time of year. I've already noted the location of any campers and try
to do multiple check-ins. If there is going to be trouble, it's
typically near campsites.

I've become somewhat of
a voyeur, watching the happy families, couples, friends camping out.
They roast marshmallows, tell ghost stories, drink heavily, and just
have a relaxed time. I envy that; I've never been able to just go
camping. Aunt Rain always tried to give us a normal childhood, but
honestly, there is no such thing as normal for us. When we were
camping it was always a training exercise.

We never did any of
those family activities and we never cuddled up to mom and dad
because we heard noises outside our tent. We would determine the
level of threat and then decide whether it needed to be hunted.

We learned the
difference between a good noise and a bad noise. When to hide and
when to kill. I made my first kill when I was thirteen. It's
emblazoned in my memory. She was moon-touched and Aunt Rain was
fighting two wolves that were protecting their mother. It was agony.
I didn't want to do it.

When I finally had the
advantage over my wolf, Aunt Rain just screamed, “Do it, or so
many more will die.”

I quickly glanced at
the couple lying mauled to death in the middle of a campsite. Their
tent was torn to shreds and there were body parts everywhere. It
isn't that it was the first time I'd ever seen blood or even death,
but it was my first moon-touched attack and it was gruesome.

I kept the wolf pinned
to the ground, with my magic holding her perfectly still. That's when
it happened. I looked into her eyes, mine heavy with sadness and
regret. I loved her, even though I didn't know her. She was a
wolf-borne and I was her servant here to carry out a necessary
function.

She lay there,
paralyzed with blood and sinew dripping from her snout, not her own.
Her coat mottled and dirty, Aunt Rain had been hunting her for
several weeks, but her sons were helping her evade hunters.

I raised my sword over
my head, focusing on the spot on her chest that I knew the blade had
to go in to make it quick and as painless as possible. Our eyes met
for only a second as the blade crunched through her rib cage to her
heart. In that minuscule moment, that tiny glance, she was thanking
me for my mercy. She was in pain; she wasn't a killer by nature, only
by circumstance. In her life, she was a kind and gentle woman. She
did everything she could for her children to provide them with a
normal life. But the moon-craze got her; that's all it took.

That first time,
watching the life leave her body was an incredibly painful
experience. It's an agony that only a hunter can know. It's never
gotten any easier; nine years and several kills later, it's doesn't
hurt me any less to take the life of a wolf.

What followed was even
more heart-wrenching. When the she-wolf yelped it drew the attention
of the two wolves Aunt Rain was battling. They ran to the she-wolf's
side, both shifting into human form on the way.

They knelt down beside
her, watching her take her last breaths. They were her sons, still
just pups. They had no idea what to do or how to help her. Their
instincts told them to protect her and they did their best.

I looked at them and
knew their pain with every fiber of my being. I watched my father
die; I know the despair running through them like a hot knife, like
my sword went through their mother's heart.

Aunt Rain took a
blanket out of her backpack and wrapped it around the younger one. I
covered the older of the two with my cloak; as I did, the words came
out in a choked whisper to hold back the tears. “I'm so sorry.”

He looked up at me with
watery eyes. “Thank you.” A single tear spilled over and
trailed its way down his cheek.

With one finger I
caught the tear, studying it for a moment as it absorbed into the
grime on my skin. That tiny little tear was full of a grief that I
was well acquainted with, and I wanted to take it back. “I
really am so sorry.”

He threw his arms
around me, burying his face in my chest as he began to sob. “You
had to.”

That was a very
difficult night; my first kill, first blood. I performed the
internment rights in the presence of the boys. I tried to do it right
and Aunt Rain helped me, but I was so nervous because I wanted to be
respectful and I wanted to be gentle because of the pups. From that
moment, I felt a sense of responsibility to them and knew they were
going to be an important part of my life.

That was the night I
met Brogan and Kyle. It was also the night I decided I had to find a
cure.

Brogan never had to
forgive me; he was old enough to understand what had to be done.
Kyle, on the other hand: I believe there's a part of him that has
never forgiven me. We love each other, and always will. But we've
never been as close as Brogan and I. Honestly, I can't blame him.
Regardless of the circumstances being so different, if I ever find
the wolf that killed my father, I'll kill him.

We brought Kyle and
Brogan home with us until we could find a suitable home. Aunt Rain
home-schooled them with Trevor and I even after we found them a
family. I always suspected Aunt Rain didn't really try that hard to
find a home for them since it took her close to two years. She was
sure to find someone local so she could continue their schooling
until high school.

Even our happy endings
are marred by tragedy. It makes me wonder if I'll ever have anything
good in my life that isn't the result of a terrible event.

I have another hour of
patrol, but there's no harm in at least heading in the direction of
the clearing. Hopefully Cole will meet me. He didn't say he was
coming to see me last night and I didn't mention I had patrol.
Nonetheless, he usually meets me for sunrise and I'm hoping this one
is no different.

I'm nearly to the
perimeter of my patrol area and I feel the presence of a large pack
of wolves. I'd say there were at least thirty. I wasn't aware of any
groups that big in these parts. Immediately I take to the trees. It's
better if I avoid them, we try to remain invisible to the wolf-borne
unless we are needed.

They start filtering
through the trees below me. I lose count pretty quickly, and
considering I wouldn't be able to see them all in the darkness, it's
just as well. My estimation is probably right on at about thirty.
There doesn't appear to be any moon-touched among them and I'm
relieved that I can just let them go on by. I do know that if the
small group of Boy Scouts camping about half a mile east sees them,
they'll crap themselves. I'm feeling a little nervous right now
myself and I'm used to being around wolves.

A familiar whistle
breaks my thoughts; it's a hunter call. I'm close enough to the
perimeter of my patrol area that it's possible for me to run into
another hunter. Another whistle comes from a different direction. I
return the whistle, peering through the branches of the trees trying
to find the other hunters.

The whistle sounds
again, but closer this time. I look below me to see that the pack has
passed by. I scale down the tree and head toward the whistle getting
closer to me.

“Claire?”
male voice questions.

Great. “Corey?”

He approaches me from
the west. “Yeah.” He looks past me in the direction the
wolves were walking. “Did you see that?”

“I did. I thought
it was weird.” I maintain a five foot distance from him.

“Hey guys.”
A small, slender girl jumps down from the tree we are standing under.

“Casey, hey
girl.” I'm so relieved to not be alone with Corey.

“So what do you
make of that?” She hitches her thumb in the direction the huge
pack went.

“Not sure, but
there were a lot of them. I'm thinking at least thirty,” I say,
shaking my head at the oddity.

“Yeah, that
sounds about right,” Corey adds.

“What should we
do?” Casey asks as though there's anything we can do.

“Nothing. I
didn't sense any moon-touched among them. They aren't attacking
anyone so we just let it go.” Corey leans against a nearby
tree.

“But should we
tell someone?” Casey asks with confused green eyes. She's
younger, only about seventeen.

“I'm going to let
my Aunt Rain know. She'll probably tell Hayden,” I assure her.

“Any campers in
that direction?” Corey asks, picking his nails with his hunting
knife. Gross, by the way.

“Yeah, a small
group of Boy Scouts.” I say it while grimacing at Corey's
nail-picking.

Casey snarls her lip,
also repulsed by Corey. “You don't think they are in danger, do
you?”

“No,” I
answer. “I mean I've heard of some wolves attacking just
because, but it's so rare that I–” I'm cut off by the
sound of screaming coming through the trees. “Shit!”

All three of us spring
into action, running full speed toward the screams. The entire run
I'm hoping that some kid saw a huge pack of wolves and pissed himself
and now they are all hysterical.