Shepherd's Moon (8 page)

“Not really,” I admitted.

He exhaled loudly and I could hear the chair creak as he leaned back. “I was asking your opinion on why the chimera hadn’t shifted in so long.”

I blew past another row of cars. “He’s young — barely out of his teens. And something scared him. I couldn’t get the whole story—I’m not sure he even knows what happened to him, but he’s been in hiding for months. Richard, he sort of overwhelmed me.”

“What do you mean he
overwhelmed
you?”

I considered how to explain. After all, I didn’t really understand what had happened myself. “He was a little
too
good at broadcasting. It clouded things a bit and I couldn’t be in there for too long.”

“
Too
good at broadcasting,” Richard repeated. I could almost hear him thinking as he processed my statement. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m just tired and losing my ability to regulate the signal.” Of course since I have no idea how I even get a signal, let alone regulate the skill, this scenario was highly unlikely.

“Doubtful,” he muttered, echoing my thoughts. “You’ve been growing stronger, not weaker.”

And he should know. Every six months, I was subjected to a battery of tests that included everything from mental and emotional exams to gathering DNA — another requirement from the Council when I took over as Shepherd of the Southwest Territories. Since there were no reliable records of female Shepherds anywhere in history, the other Council members took a few too many liberties in assigning random conditions to my appointment. Richard had volunteered to monitor the results of my testing and report back to the Council with any unusual findings. And since he is one of the few humans that both the Council and I trust, it was allowed. It was all done in the name of safety, but everyone knew the real motivation was control. The Council was terrified I might do something to jeopardize their good name.

And rightfully so.

“I don’t know, Richard. Sometimes the animal is just a good communicator, maybe I was more focused than usual.” A quick glance at the freeway signs told me my exit was fast approaching and I changed lanes, waving my hand in apology at the Buick I had cut off. “Either way, the situation is handled. Daniel has instructions on how to find me, Meg’s safely tucked into bed, and Bren’s out of the neighborhood.”

He didn’t offer any thanks. That’s not Richard’s style. Instead, he exhaled loudly. “All right. Get some rest tonight. I have a few leads we need to follow up on tomorrow. I’ll be in touch.”

I took the exit at nearly 90 mph and, with no further sign of the black sports car following, I headed home. Right now,

I just wanted to get some sleep before meeting with Billy. While domesticating strays is my first duty, hunting them is a close second…

Billy relaxed against the antiquated silver Mustang that was not so inconspicuously parked in the lot of our previously agreed-upon meeting place — the same coffee shop we always met at so he could get his maple-flavored bear claw and I could get my almond-flavored café au lait. He grinned as I eased the Pontiac into the space next to his restored Mustang, which was still sans muffler.

I could never figure out how he tolerates the thunderous car. The engine was deafening to humans, and a shifter’s hearing was far more sensitive than any human. But, it never seemed to bother Billy so I just tried to do as much of the driving as possible.

Despite an upbringing a serial killer would envy, Billy is one of the most laid-back people I’ve ever met. A casual stance and a tight black t-shirt emphasized his corded muscles and broad shoulders. A bone-handle knife protruded from the sheath at his waist, gleaming white against the darkness, and he looked dangerous despite the giant pastry he was holding.

He’s never gone anywhere without that knife for as long as I could remember, which struck me as odd, because he’s never had reason to use it. Once phased, he has six-inch, bone-white fangs and razor-sharp claws that would do far more damage than a knife; and when he was human, he could out-fight anyone foolish enough to engage him. I should know after years of training with him. He may not be the most technically correct fighter, but what he lacks in technique, he makes up for in pure, effectual savagery.

Like nearly all shifters and Weres, he exudes an animalistic aura, lending him a commanding presence that you can’t help but notice even in human form. Smooth olive skin that he inherited from his Apache father stretched over his high cheekbones and his amber eyes shined with the lure of a hunt. His long hair fell over his shoulders like a crest and was one smooth length of black. When he’s on duty, he wears it gathered at the nape of his neck in a thick ponytail, but not tonight…

Tonight we were hunting.

He grinned as I climbed from the car, greeting me with a condescending pat on the head before making a sarcastic comment about my choice of clothing.

I knew it was coming. He always gives me a hard time about my standard wardrobe choices, which mostly meant jeans and tank tops every day. It’s difficult to take him too seriously, though. The jeans are comfortable and allow for easy movement. They also allow me to get dirty, a standard hazard when you work and live with supernatural creatures. If that means I’m not the poster board model for fashion, so be it.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said with a suggestive smile as he appraised me.

“Oh, Billy,” I leaned into him, “you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it.”

It’s also hard to take his flirting seriously. Shifters aren’t particularly self-conscious creatures, not even when they’re human, and I knew that if I chose to work naked, he wouldn’t have cared until the case was over. It isn’t anything he hasn’t seen anyway. There aren’t many secrets when you share your home with a shifter.

I reached into my car, scooping the thick file packed with information on Azrael’s prior kills off the passenger seat, and handed it to him as he passed me the latte. He glanced at the name of the file and passed it back to me.

“Case solved. We already got Azrael. Let’s go home.”

“Not so fast,” I said. “Richard wants his Handler.”

“Christ. It never ends…” He shoved a piece of the maple bear claw in his mouth. “I thought Richard said you were off the case for awhile?”

“Richard can say what he wants. I’m a contractor, not an employee.”

He considered my words, chewing longer than was necessary as he debated whether to take my side or his employer’s side. It wasn’t a long debate.

“Better you than Brock. Besides, I would rather lose my job than my place of residence.”

“Wise decision,” I muttered.

Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Hey, remember that case we were on last year? The one with the animal rights fanatics?”

I nodded with a grimace. “When they set all those lab animals free? Of course I remember.”
How could I forget?
I still had nightmares about the poor creatures we’d had to track after the group released them into the wild. They had freed nearly forty animals.

We’d only recovered thirty-four of them.

The corporation doing the testing earned ninety-nine percent of the blame as far as I was concerned, but the radical group who turned them loose shared blame as well. Instead of freeing the animals, they had only succeeded in extending the animals pain. Unable to fend for themselves, some had starved. Others had kept stronger animals from starving.

I want to save animals as much as the next person, but have never prescribed to the idea of letting lab experiments loose on the world as the best way to do it. But extremists aren’t known for their calm personalities. We may share ideals, but our methods vary drastically.

The men we had taken into custody received two years at the Perryville lockup after they refused to cooperate by supplying information on their group to the feds — they’d be out in a matter of months. The corporation doing the testing was fined — a pittance compared to what the research was worth. The leaders of the extremist group were never formally identified and likely never would be. But the animals had suffered a horrible life and an even more terrible death.

Another example of 21st century justice.

As for the six missing animals, they were never found. Nor did I anticipate they ever would be. The corporation hadn’t seemed too concerned about it, claiming the animals were not a danger to the public. They were more concerned about getting us out of their facility. I hadn’t been able to stay in the area for long anyway as the terror from the caged animals had proven to be too much for me.

One of the dogs had actually been used for harvesting transplants and had an eyeball growing under its abdomen.

An eyeball…

How does anything — animal or human — recover from an experience like that?

Billy crumpled the paper bag into a tight ball. “The two that went to prison were released last week. We found them stuffed in a giant dog kennel at a drop site last night.”

Surprised, I lifted my eyes to meet his. “What happened?”

“No idea,” he shrugged. “Some kids were playing nearby and found the kennel. One of the bodies was still inside, the other guy was found nearby—the detectives think wild dogs got hold of the body.”

“Is that what you think?”

Aiming the crumpled-up paper sack at a nearby garbage can, he tossed it in. “Score!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

I rolled my eyes, sipping my coffee.

“Who knows? I’m guessing the company got tired of these groups interfering with their profit margin and decided to send a message.”

“What was the name of that corporation?” I asked, doing my best to push the memory of those poor animals out of my head.

“Shoot, Alex. That was over a year ago. I’m lucky I even remembered we processed the case.
Dyno. Dynamite. Dingo…”

“Dynasty,” I answered absentmindedly. My thoughts flicked back to Daniel. If Parallax were the name of the company, we might have something to work with…

“Yeah, Dynasty. That was it.” He licked his fingers and glanced up at the green neon sign, considering whether to get another donut.

I sighed. “Why don’t you just order two to begin with?”

He turned his head to level a sharp glare at me.

“Oh come on…” I snapped. “I didn’t have to read your mind for that.”

Grunting, he returned to studying the file. “I have to watch my girlish figure.”

I leaned back against the car and sipped the hot coffee as he browsed the paperwork, thinking about how long we’d been doing this together. When Joseph first found Billy on the reservation, he was just a kid running with a small, but fierce, five-member pack of Weres. Joseph had brought all of them home. Eventually the boys had moved into other territories. Everyone but Billy, who had stayed with us, swearing loyalty to Joseph. But, now it was Richard and I who reaped the benefits.

Each member of my pack has been specifically trained for finding a certain type of criminal; and as a general rule, we aren’t called in often. Over the past year, that was changing. I wasn’t sure if it was because we’re so successful or because we’re lucky, but to date, we have never missed a mark. And I wasn’t about to let Azrael’s Handler be the first.

The only lead we had was Azrael, and now we didn’t even have him—thanks to Richard killing off the one person who may have been persuaded to tell us something.
Frustrated
barely began to cover my feelings on that subject. I downed the rest of the now lukewarm coffee and tossed the empty cup into the nearby trash bin — without a cheer.

Billy picked up on my impatience and closed the file, passing it back to me.

“I’m driving,” he called out, heading back to his Mustang.

I shook my head. “You can drive — but we’re taking my car.”

“C’mon, Alex.” He caught the keys I tossed at him. “We never take my car.

“Did you ever think there might be a reason for that?”

“Yeah—you have a problem with fast cars.”

“No,” I corrected, “I have a problem with obnoxiously loud cars that are totally worthless for surveillance.”

He tipped his head, his amber eyes glowing as he looked up at me. “But nothing will out perform that baby in a high-speed pursuit.”

A soft click indicated the doors were unlocked, but before I could reach the handle, Billy had the door open. It was something he insisted on doing and despite my stance on feminism, I let him. “Well, considering that we’re not technically allowed high-speed anything, that’s completely unimpressive.”

“Do you even know where to look for this guy?”

Sliding into the leather interior, I pulled out my phone and opened the map I had downloaded earlier. “I think our best bet is Tempe Lake.”

“Any reason for that assumption?” He slid into the driver’s side and waited for me to fasten my seatbelt.

I sighed but ultimately complied. I hate wearing a seatbelt, but the damn car would sound an alarm every eight seconds until I fastened it. Billy had offered to fix it on a number of occasions, but Brock wouldn’t let him. The wolf worried more about my safety than he should. But, considering I’m the only easily destructible member of the pack, it made sense.