Moon Crossed (Werewolf Hunter Series): Season 1 (Episodes 1-6) (Crescent Hunter) (65 page)

He telegraphs his next
move when he draws back to charge me. The female is held in place
with the protection I cast. The other wall is around me, but the male
moves through it without so much as yelping. It had to hurt him, and
the smell of his singed fur hangs in the air. Our eyes meet as he
lands on me, pushing me down.

With my magic I thrust
him off, but he comes back fast. I'm knocked back and my focus
waivers. While holding his muzzle back, I go for my dagger, but I
can't get to it with him on top of me.

As I reach into the
back of my scabbard for my sais, he pushes forward on my arm and I
hear a snapping sound, then feel searing pain shoot up my arm. My
eyes squeeze shut from the pain and I scream out in agony. My focus
is blown, freeing the female to charge to her mate's aid.

When I gather all of my
strength, it’s is barely enough to throw her back and hold her
while also trying to keep the male from ripping me to pieces.
Adrenaline has kicked in, muting the pain. My arm is either broken or
badly sprained; looking at it will make it real, but I have to know.
Sure enough, my humerus has punctured through my skin in a compound
fracture. Seeing it emphasizes both the hurt and urgency to make this
kill quickly.

The wolf's legs scratch
and paw at me, but I'm holding him just far enough away. I pull my
legs up and apply a heel lock in front of his hind legs to toss him
back. With the short reprieve, I freeze him in place, but it won't
hold long.

With the remainder of
my focus, I cup my hand on the bone, pushing it back inside my arm.
My screams echo through the trees, returning with a haunting lilt. If
the bones are together, this will go much faster. I then envision the
bones fusing back together, focusing my healing power. There isn't
much time before the wolves break out of their freezes. Sweat is
dripping down my arm against the late autumn chill and my body is
shaking. There's a good chance that shock is setting in. “Come
on,” I grunt out, trying to heal it faster.

The moon-touched wolf
snarls and grunts with madness, trying to break the magic binds to
get to me. My arm isn't completely healed, but it's usable. Drawing
my silver sword as I approach the moon-touched wolf, the female
breaks away, lunging at me. My concentration is completely broken as
I land on my arm, letting out an agonizing scream. She slashes at my
arm, targeting my weak point. Waving my hands to move her, she lands
ten or so feet from me.

She jumps toward me,
but at the last second I move away, cutting the tendons in her hind
legs. This buys me about four minutes of time to take care of the
male. Lifting the sword with my right hand, I get to where he is and
plunge it down into his heart. He drops to the ground and the female
howls with grief.

Knowing that the male
is no longer a threat, I go to her, wrap my right arm around her
head, and twist to disable her long enough to do the internment. She
looks into my eyes with hatred. I return the look. “I've lost
just as much as you have.”

She looks away.

To take a sample, I
open up the wolf's chest to pull out his heart. Sweat drips from my
brow, but I realize that it isn't sweat but blood. The she-wolf comes
back to life as I'm cutting the last of the arteries away from the
heart. I'm going quickly because she's not going to hold much longer,
and I don't have a lot of fight left in me.

Zane and Ben appear
within the small globe of light I had conjured. The female shifts
into human form, screaming and howling out in despair. “Why are
you doing this?”

The ground is prepared
for the internment. I know what she's feeling and there's nothing I
can do for her. Ben shifts to human form, going to comfort her as she
collapses with grief. While her pain resonates within me, I've become
more calloused with all that's happened. It affects me. But not like
it once would. I want to yell at Ben to shut her up, but I keep quiet
while setting the wolf's body on fire.

Zane comes to me
cautiously. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,”
I say coolly. “Why?”

“It looks like
you were hurt.” His tone is cautious. “You're covered in
blood.”

“I said I'm
fine.” I regret my tone immediately.

“Okay.” He
puts his hands up in surrender.

“I'm done for the
night.” I pick up my weapons that are strewn across the area
where we fought.

“That seems like
a good idea.” He narrows his eyes at me.

“I'm going to
stay with her,” Ben says, comforting the female. In human form,
she's familiar to me.

“Susan?” I
question.

“You killed him!
You murdered my mate.” Her tone feels like a thousand buzzing
bees in my ear. Her anguish can't be blocked out. She was with Cole
not that long ago, so really, how much pain is she in?

“I'm sorry, but
he was sick and would've killed you, too.” My tone is detached,
vacant.

“It didn't
matter. I still loved him,” she sobs.

“I'm sure you'll
get over it.” Drawing closer to her, we are now eye to eye.
“You'll get over it.”

“He didn't
deserve to die.” She shakes her head, looking down, sadness
pouring from her. She glowers, full of revulsion. “He said you
were kind.”

I straighten myself.
“Who?”

“There's no
kindness in you. Cole was wrong.” She looks away from me, as
though not wanting to lower herself to my level. “You're a
killer.”

“I did what I had
to. Cole doesn't know anything about me that doesn't involve using
me.” My feelings are so conflicted. I want to ask her how he
is. When did she see him last? Is he okay? But none of that comes,
and all I can say is what I feel for her right now. “I really
am sorry.”

“You don't
deserve his love. He'll see you for what you really are.” She
spits in my face. “Hunter. Murderer.”

Wiping the saliva from
my cheek, I say, “That's right, and don't you forget it.”
I spin on my heels, walking away. “I'm going home.”

“Can you get her
home?” Zane motions to Susan.

“Yeah, I got it,”
he says, shooting me a dour stare.

Zane and I drive home
under a blanket of silence. As we pull down the driveway, he inhales
a breath. “What happened back there?”

“I made a clean
kill.” My tone is void of any emotion.

“Claire, you were
a little...”

“What?” I
snap at him.

“Out of control,”
he finishes, furrowing his brow.

“He was
moon-touched. She's fickle. I'm sure she'll be moving on to someone
else next week.” I roll my eyes.

“Susan has been
with Dwayne for a long time,” he laments.

“They couldn’t
have been that tight. She was screwing Cole not that long ago.”
There's a bitterness running through me.

“She's never been
with Cole, ever.” He looks toward me, then straight out through
the windshield.

“He left a party
with her.” He has to hear the pang of hurt.

“He only took her
home.” He shakes his head. “He was never with her.”

“Are you
serious?” I look down at the steering wheel. “It doesn't
matter. There was nothing I could do.”

“You cut his
heart out in front of her.” His tone is full of judgmental
astonishment.

“She can take
solace in knowing that he's helping to find a cure.” I get out
of the truck and get my gear. Yes, I'm running away from this
conversation because I'm ashamed. It doesn't change the fact that he
had to die; he was moon-touched. Now if only I could run away from my
guilt for not having been more delicate.

I take my gear
downstairs to clean it later and sit at my desk, reflecting on the
night. Spending time trying to justify my actions isn't a good use of
my time. It's what we do, no matter how the night goes. I needed to
take these organs to find a cure. Maybe I'm going a little off the
rails, but it's falling toward something better. Right?

After the organs are in
the cooler, I head upstairs. The walls are feeling particularly
quiet. Zane's gone to bed, which is just as well.

As I start up the
stairs to get into the shower, the click of the back door stops me. I
listen for a moment, then hear Zane's car start. He's leaving.

Once in the bathroom, I
peel off my gear and notice how much blood is on the bodice. I get as
much off as I can; thankfully it's black, so the bloodstains won't
show. My reflection in the mirror is frightening. My hair is wild
with leaves and grass stuck in my braid, and my face and arms are
nearly black with crusted dirt and blood. This is a morbid view on
how my night went.

Like most nights after
a hunt, as the blood and grime circle around the drain, I wish my
guilt would wash down with them.

Once out of the shower,
I look at myself again; even though my face and body are clean, I
still feel like the blood stains are there, punctuating what I am.
Showing me why I'm meant to be alone.

It's nearly sunrise,
which brings about a streak of sadness as I realize how much I miss
seeing it.

Today, I will watch the
sun rise without Cole, and it will be okay.

The sky is an amazing
display of color. Not with the brilliant pink, orange, and reds, but
grays and blues as the sun breaks over the horizon. It's a pretty
typical fall morning: cloudy, foggy, gray – like my mood. The
leaves are gone from the trees. Only a few stragglers are left,
hanging on for dear life. A laugh escapes me, as I think that those
leaves are just like Ben and Zane. They are the only ones still
holding on when all of the other fair-weather leaves have deserted
me, left me, moved on to something else because things got a little
hard.

Friends don't bail when
things get tough; they move in closer. They become the solid ground
you stand on when your world turns to dust beneath your feet.

Sadness sets my sagging
posture and there isn't one more bit of strength left in me to hold
back the emotions I've been trying to stuff down. It's hard not
breaking down in front of Zane and Ben, but I manage, hoping they
won't run away, too, if they see me as weak.

Silent tears stream
down my cheeks, building up to a full-blown sob. With my knees pulled
up into my chest as tightly as possible to make myself small, I rock
with sorrow. All of the most wonderfully painful thoughts of Aunt
Rain, Brogan, Da, my mother, Locke, Cole, Trevor, Tor, and Rabbit.
All of the people who have left me one way or another. Loneliness is
my only true companion. No one is ever really going to have my back.

Part of me laments that
everyone in my life will be kept at arm’s length from now on.
If you aren't already in my heart, you're not getting in. Zane and
Ben have been good friends to me, but honestly I'm just waiting for
them to leave.

That thought playing
over and over again in my mind causes my sobs to escalate. I rest my
head down on my knees to keep from screaming out.

Something tickling my
arm draws my attention. Barely discernible through my tear-blurred
vision sits a brilliant purple butterfly that has come to a rest.

My psyche splinters. Do
I smile, scream, crush it? I want to do all of it, but don't. I just
go home.

I felt no calm watching
the sunrise and found none on the way home. There's a small wooden
box waiting for me on the top step. It has a nearly black stain with
a purple butterfly painted on the top. My suspicion puts me on guard
as I scan for danger. No one is around.

Cautiously, I pick it
up, flipping the top open. There's a note.

For your tattoo
supplies.

Cole's handwriting.
Part of me is angry that he didn't put more in the note. That he
didn't tell me how he feels, that he's dying inside without me the
same way I am without him.

Turning and leaning my
back against the door, I hug the box to my chest as tears begin to
fall again. Every part of me aches for him. The planters light up
with a dim purple glow until missing him nearly crushes me, and then
they go dark.

Just like him.