Moon Crossed (Werewolf Hunter Series): Season 1 (Episodes 1-6) (Crescent Hunter) (2 page)

“But so are we.”
I look him straight in the eye.

“We are
different; we only kill when they become feral. It is our purpose,
our duty.” He straightens himself and we continue our walk. The
crisp October air nips at my nose as the afternoon wears on, and I
wrap my black cloak tighter around me. There's an extra chill in the
north Georgia mountains.

“I don't see the
difference, but I'm trying to understand.” My hope is that this
is the day I'll convince him they aren't all bad.

“At some point
they all become moon-touched and can't control themselves in wolf
form.” He inhales a breath. “Clarice, I understand how
difficult this is. I've lived it my whole life.”

“It doesn't make
sense. Our magic is supposed to only work near them. Wouldn't it seem
like we're meant to be together?” This simple fact is something
that has bothered me since my Da first told me about my power.

He stops and turns to
me with a look of desperation and anger in his eyes, “No, we
are not meant to be with them. You should never be near them unless
you are killing them. Do you hear me?” He shakes my shoulders,
sending a fright through me.

“Yes, Da.”
My head hangs in shame as I bite back tears of fear and frustration.

“No, you tell me
you understand. Your life depends on it.” He pleads with watery
eyes.

“Yes, Da.”
I don't mean it. Even though I'm only eight years old, there's
something in me that knows this is a promise I'll have difficulty
fulfilling.

My adopted cousin
Trevor is wolf-borne; when we're together, the feeling of magic
flowing through me is one of the best things I've ever felt. I'll
never forget that wolves killed my mother, but this yearning to be
with the wolf-borne is undeniable.

Satisfied that he's
gotten his daily dose of anti-wolf propaganda to sink in, we continue
through the forest. He occasionally points out different herbs and
their uses: everything from healing to making you feel good when
you're sad. I love these walks in the woods.

A question has burned
in me for as long as I can remember, but I've always been too afraid
to ask. Something inside me, a part of my being, doesn't want to
believe that all the wolf-borne are evil. Today I gather the courage.
“Da?”

“Yes, mo chrois,”
he answers, looking straight ahead.

“Do you hate
wolf-borne because they killed Mom?” Regret rides on the words
as they leave my mouth.

“No, I hate them
more
because wolf-borne killed your mother,” he answers
coolly.

“What if I were a
wolf-borne?”

“You aren't. You
are a hunter. Be that.” His adamance is scolding.

“But what if I
wanted to be a wolf-borne?” My tone is quiet, part of me hoping
he can't hear the words.

“You can't. You
can never be.” The frustration in his voice is growing.

Several more minutes go
by as I gather the courage to ask my next question. “Why can I
feel my magic when I'm not with Trevor?”

“Because you are
special.” He showers me with a kind expression.

“Maybe special
enough to shift one day?” My eyes brighten at the thought. I've
had so many dreams where I can shift and run with Trevor as a wolf.

“You will never
be a wolf. Now stop, you are scaring the birds. How can you learn to
listen to the sounds of the forest if you're always chattering away?”
he admonishes, causing me to shrink back into my hood.

For the rest of our
walk the only sound is the bubbling creek that leads us home. The
silence of the forest has us both on edge. The squirrels aren't
foraging through the leaves, no birds are making a sound.

Mom's headstone in the
family graveyard comes into view. “Da?”

“Yes,” he
blows out a breath, expecting the worse.

“What is mo
chrois?” I look up at him.

A smile spreads across
his lips, “It means 'my heart.'”

“You call me your
heart?” I follow him through the black iron gate of the
graveyard that is perfectly manicured.

He kneels down in front
of Mom's headstone, laying the bunch of wild flowers he picked. “Yes,
you and your mother are my heart.”

“I love you.”
I throw my arms around his neck, knocking him down.

“You are getting
so strong, little one,” he laughs, lifting me up. “Your
training is going well.”

“When will I
train more with my magic?”

“When you are
older. You have to go away for that and your ol' Da just isn't ready
to let you go!” He tickles and pokes me; our laughter fills the
yard.

An ominous silence
falls like a heavy rain that stills us; we both feel the presence of
a wolf-borne and it's not Trevor. “Da?” My voice shakes
with unease. Hot energy spikes through me as muted tears of terror
pour from my eyes.

“They're coming.”
His eyes scan the tree line of the yard.

“I'm scared,”
I whimper.

He stands, wrapping his
arms around me, concentrating on the woods. “Five. I count
five. How many do you count?” He's taken on an instructor's
tone in an attempt to bring me to focus.

“Seven.”
It's not that I see them; I feel them.

“That's a good
little hunter.” His praise doesn't put me at ease. The wolves
come in and Da slowly turns us in a tight circle, watching the wolves
surround us. “Do you see the break in them? The weak point?”

“Yes, I see it.”
Immediately I know he's going to tell me to run and I don't want to
leave him.

“When I say fly,
I want you to imagine that you are able to fly, feel the magic run
through you.” His voice begins to waiver. “Go to Aunt
Rain, tell her.”

“I don't want to
leave you.” The panic in my tone prompts him to wrap his arms
tighter around me.

“You have to get
help.” He kisses the top of my head. My head shakes vehemently
as I feel the moisture from his own tears wet my hair. “Fly, mo
chrois!” He releases me from his arms like a bird into the
wild. Energy bursts through me and I speed past one of the smaller
wolves toward my Aunt Rain's house. The wolf nips at me, catching my
forearm. The skin tears and bright red blood seeps from the wound. He
gives chase and I feel the burn in my legs as I run faster than ever
before. Screams get trapped in my lungs as I see Aunt Rain's house
through the trees, but terror has stolen my voice. I can only run.

Aunt Rain comes out on
the porch in a panic. “Claire!” She runs to me, picking
me up and raising her hand to the wolf. He slides to a halt in front
of the stairs to the porch.

“Stop, you may
not enter.” Her voice is commanding.

“Auntie Rain, Da,
you have to help Da,” I say through the sobs beating against my
insides.

She puts me down and
looks at the wolf at the bottom of the stairs, then at me again. “You
get in the house. He can't get you there. Trevor's in his room. Go to
him; he'll protect you.”

“You have to save
Da!” I can barely choke out my broken words.

“I will. You stay
inside.” She closes the storm door and jumps from another part
of the porch, disappearing into the trees.

The wolf doesn't follow
Aunt Rain; he stays at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me with
haunting blue eyes. He licks my blood from his lips and the wound on
my arm begins to burn. Our eyes are locked, neither of us able to
turn away. I'm not sure if it's because I so rarely feel my magic
this strong and it's flowing. A calm blankets me and a smile rises to
my lips from the euphoria of being near him. I want to go to him, pet
him, throw my arms around him and bathe in the comfort he's sending
me.

The wolf sits clumsily,
as though he's not sure how to use his gangly legs. He lets out a
playful yelp, shaking his head at me like there's a bug in his ear.
He doesn't look very scary. The urge to go out the door to play with
him is so strong.

When I start to turn
the doorknob, he hops up, wagging his tail with his big pink tongue
hanging out like a goofy dog. Slowly, I walk toward the top of the
stairs with no fear. My father's words waft through my mind and my
feet won't move forward.

The wolf puts one paw
on the bottom step cautiously. Both of us ready to run, the mutual
draw is so strong; we want to be closer, but neither of us can move
ourselves toward the other. All sound and senses are dulled except
feeling one another. Lost in the magic in this moment, I feel like
I'm floating. My insides are on fire to be closer to him. I take a
tentative step onto the stair, then the next. He looks up at me
excitedly, his eyes pleading.

Aunt Rain's voice cuts
through the air. “Claire!” She moves her hand in a
sweeping motion and the wolf is pushed several feet to the left. He
yelps out in pain when he hits a tree. His pain shoots through me and
my side is aching.

She scoops me up,
hugging me. She's covered in blood, her skin and clothes are torn.
“I'm so sorry,” she says in a broken whisper.

“No, Da!” I
break away from her using my enhanced power.
Fly
, I say to
myself, and move swiftly through the trees. My father lays in the
graveyard, his weak heartbeat ringing in my ears. There's another I
can hear, but I push it away, wanting to only hear my Da's heart. I
need to hear it to know he's alive, but it's getting faint.

“Da!” Tears
blur my vision and drop onto his shirt, leaving faint stains.

“Oh, mo chrois,”
he scolds in a weak voice. “You never listen.”

“I'm sorry.”
I pull at his arm. “We have to get you inside. We have to start
healing you.” I do my best to hold my hands over him,
concentrating on restoring him like he's shown me.

Nothing happens.

My magic is running
through me feverishly. But nothing is happening. “Heal!”
I command it like my small voice will change his fate.

He coughs and I feel
his essence seeping from his body. With my hands on his chest and
belly, I try to keep it in. “No!” I cry and shake my
head.

A deep rumbling growl
comes from directly in front me. I don't care; I won't leave my
father. “Go away from here,” I say through gritted teeth.

The huge wolf mocks me;
approaching us slowly, his haunches making exaggerated peaks across
his back with each step closer. Everything about him is evil - even
the puffs of breath coming from his nose carry a corrupt stench - and
his darkness runs through me, leaving a haunting chill in its wake.

The smaller blue-eyed
wolf runs into the graveyard and nips at the heels of the bigger
wolf. Without so much as a warning, he turns around, locking his
teeth on the blue-eyed wolf's neck. Blood drips from under the bigger
wolf's mouth as my protector whimpers and wails in pain.

“No!” I
screech, moving my hand like I saw Aunt Rain do. The bigger wolf
stumbles and is pushed away, but not far enough. Aunt Rain enters the
yard and chases after both wolves, armed with her sword. They run
into the trees, but she doesn't follow them.

My father coughs and
the urgency swells in my heart. I try to focus on healing him, but
the power in me is fading. “Bring them back, Aunt Rain. We can
heal him if you bring them back.”

She shakes her head,
“No, Claire. They will kill us, too.”

“Your aunt is
right,” Da sputters and gasps, trying to suck the life force
back into his body.

“No, Da, no!”
I put my hands on his chest, trying to focus; there's a slight surge
in my power, but it's not enough.

He takes my hand in
his. “Never trust a wolf. You must resist them; they will kill
you one way or another.”

“Da, please stay
with me.” Tears fall from my cheeks onto our hands, creating
tiny pools in the lines of his weathered skin.

“Be the strong
girl I know you are.” He tries to inhale. “Is breá
liom tú, mo chrois. Stay away from wolves, promise me.”
His hand goes limp before I can make the promise.

Incoherent cries spill
from the deepest feeling part of my soul as the last of my father's
breath escapes his lips, blowing across my damp cheek. “I love
you too, Da.”

A banging sound pulls
me out of the nightmare. “Claire!”

“I'm okay,”
Sitting up, I try to run my hand through my tangled hair.

“Claire, please
open the door. We want to see that you are okay.” It's Rabbit,
always the bastion of concern.

“Really, I'm
fine!” My breathing regulates. “I'll be down in a few
minutes.”

“Okay, I just
want to be sure you're okay,” he says through the door. “Locke
is worried, too.”

“I'm fine.”
I'm sure he can hear my eyes roll.

I force myself out of
bed, pull on a pair of sweats, and push aside the hanging sheet of
silver chain that covers my door to keep the wolves out. When I get
to the top of the stairs, the smell of bacon and coffee fills my
senses. “I love you, Rabbit.”

When I get to the
bottom of the second flight of stairs, a smile spreads across my face
as I see my boys sitting at the breakfast table. Bacon or coffee
first is the first real challenge of the day. Watching the boys
devouring the giant pile of bacon in the center of the table, I
decide it's wise to get a piece before it's gone. “You guys are
pigs. Were you going to save any for me?”

“Shut up, we
weren't going to eat it all,” Trevor snaps.

“Yes you were. I
know how you are.” My eyes roll as I grab a coffee cup from the
cabinet.

The sweet nectar of the
gods swirls into my cup and I draw in a long, luxurious breath to
smell it. Rabbit is standing so close behind me when I turn around it
startles me. His arms are outstretched. “Another nightmare?”

My lips press into a
hard line and I nod while hugging him. “
The
nightmare.”

“I'm sorry, I
wish I could help.” He pours his consolation into me while
still holding me.

“I know you do,
but there's nothing anyone can do.” I force a smile and put my
best face on, trying to put the imagery of my dying father out of my
mind. It's been fourteen years, but it still feels like yesterday.