Cold Moon Rising (7 page)

my boss, Nikoli. That’s another reason why it sucks to be Lucas right now. He’s having to simultaneously interview agents and side employees like cleaning crew, while constantly having to deal with “scope creep” from council members with their own agendas. Naturally, I’d been the prime suspect. Duh. The thing is, though, I’m strongly in favor of Wolven’s existence, so I really don’t want to see it fail and have anarchy take over. I’d like to think that your average human could truly handle the concept of shapeshifters, but I know better. It’d just be a newer, shinier version of racism and, speaking as one who would likely be discriminated against, I’m against the idea.

Apparently, I have several supporters on the council, although I can’t imagine why. But the heat on me died down nearly as quickly as it started.

The frustrated sigh told me the answer without him continuing, but I let him anyway. “Going slower than I’d like. It’s as much the where as the when. We’d planned to move operations to America, but it’s meeting opposition. Paris was a very cosmopolitan city, so agents of different nationalities and accents could come and go freely. The Alpha Female down in Texas reminded me how rare it is for a group of powerful people who make people nervous to descend on an area without notice. I’m afraid that this delay is part of the plan of whoever is doing this. If the council puts Wolven in a smaller and smaller box to keep everyone happy, we’ll wind up existing, but ineffective. I’m not willing to let that happen, so we’re back to square one. Hang on for a sec.”

Lucas turned the dial on the radio to a new setting and started to call the Goodland Airport to check in. I’d been to Kansas City plenty of times, but we were going to be landing the old prop job that Lucas had rented on a private airfield in the middle of nowhere. I’d heard of Goodland since it was on a main eastwest interstate and shows up from time to time on the Weather Channel updates, but had no idea where we were headed. Frankly, I’d rather be in the corporate jet we used to get to Denver from Central America. Pipers don’t have enough legroom for my taste. It occurred to me that Lucas had started talking again and I couldn’t remember what he’d said. “Um, my bad. Tell me again what you said. I was sort of lost in thought. Sorry.”

He sighed, not like he was angry, but like he was starting to figure out I wasn’t going to be much help on the trip. “You’ll have to try to pay attention. I know it’ll be hard, considering the circumstances, but this is an important mission and I need your head with me. I was trying to give you some more background on why we’re here. Last week I got a call from one of the women in the Boulder pack. A man named Paul Kendall got her number from the regional emergency hotline we have set up for relatives and he told her he needed to get ahold of someone from Wolven right away. He has reason to believe his daughter, Liz Sutton-Kendall, had her first change last month and wrecked part of the town. But there are no other shifters in his family and he’s afraid for both her and the locals if she goes feral.”

I furrowed my brow and tried to think it through, but failed. “You’d think there wouldn’t be a question about that. Either she changed or didn’t. Why doesn’t he know? Doesn’t she live at home anymore? Did she disappear and come back bloody?”

Lucas started to look out the window. “Watch for a pair of grain towers next to a red barn. That’s the farm we’re looking for. It should be coming up in the next few miles. No, he doesn’t know because there was a tornado in Hansen . . . that’s the name of the town, the night of the last full moon. The local press is attributing the damage to the storm, but he doesn’t think so. She was found unconscious under the wreckage of the tower the next morning—stark naked, but without a scratch on her. If he’s to be believed, the girl is a badger-shifter, and he seems certain she dug a burrow under the foundation of the water tower to escape the storm, which collapsed onto a good part of the downtown.”

My laugh was unavoidable, despite Lucas’s warning growl. “Oh, c’mon, how can that not be funny? It just screams tabloid cover story: ‘Local Badgergirl Makes Big Splash in Town!’ ” I framed the headline in the air with my fingers. Lucas wasn’t quite as amused as I, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch a fraction.

“It’s fine to laugh in the plane, but keep your jokes to yourself when we land. This is actually quite a serious situation. There’s only one badger-shifter in the entire world right now, and if something happens to him, there’s nobody to train her. The nightmare I had earlier was about the last time Nigel went berserk in a crowded opera hall in London.” He turned his head enough that I could see his lightly glowing eyes. “It wasn’t pretty. A lot of people died that day for no good reason and it was hell to keep the press and officials from digging too deep. If the girl really is a badger, and she’s feral . . . well, let’s just say the tornado will have been the least of this town’s worries.”

“But badgers aren’t carnivores, are they? Don’t they eat bugs and stuff? She wouldn’t chew up the residents even if she turned.”

His light snort made me wonder just what we’d be up against. “Oh, they’re carnivores all right. But lesser ones—rats, gophers, snakes . . . that sort of thing. She probably wouldn’t eat them. But chew them up? Uh, think of a Freddy movie, but with two knife hands, equally sharp teeth, and a worse disposition.”

That raised my brows, and made me feel for my Taurus in the holster on my hip. Maybe I should have made the loads a little hotter. They’re already above average, but I could go up a few grains and stay within extreme barrel limits.

I nodded and pointed out the window as buildings began to appear in the distance. “Looks like a town coming up ahead. Yeah, I think I remember you mentioning a badger back in Chicago. Some English guy who vowed never to set foot on U.S. soil because all Americans are traitors to the crown?”

It was Lucas’s turn to nod. “Nigel Sutton, tenth earl of Suttcliffe in his present incarnation. Kendall says the girl’s mother was his multi-great granddaughter. Except Nigel doesn’t know he has a granddaughter, and he was one of the ones who helped eliminate others of his kind when they went berserk. Said his people were too dangerous to live among humans . . . sort of like the were-spiders. But for the girl, it’s a black sheep issue, I think, so even if he doesn’t kill her outright, it’s not going to be easy to convince him to teach a ‘colonist’ the ropes.”

A red barn passed under us, but without grain silos. Then a pair of silos, but no barn. Then three silos and a white barn. And all appeared to have plenty of room to land a plane. “You sure about the directions? Lots of barns, lots of silos, but no matches so far and we’re just about out of town.” I could see now where the water tower had been, owing to the massive crane parked next to the remains of the supports. Okay, maybe it was a big deal that she killed the tower. There wasn’t a stream or lake to be seen for miles, and close to a dozen buildings were rubble. “You can force this earl to train her, though, right?”

The old white wolf chuckled and tilted the wings a bit to head toward a spot of red on the horizon. “I’d have about as much luck forcing your pack leader to tap dance in a tutu. It could be done, but it wouldn’t be pretty.”

Yeah, Nikoli might not be as powerful as some, but boy is he stubborn! “Ah, got it. And thar she blows.” I pointed out the window just as Lucas spotted the same thing—two silos and a red barn. Right next to the barn was an old bi-wing crop duster that had seen better days. But it was parked on a tidy, smooth runway that looked easier to land on than a country road. I’ve done that, and it’s not much fun. “There’s our target. We got some way to get from point A to point B, or is this the Kendall farm?”

He shook his head and lowered the flaps to slow down. “This is the Sampson farm. Fringe relatives to one of the Boulder pack members. The Kendalls live in town and Ralph Sampson is going to let us borrow a car for a few days . . . if it takes that long. I want to have a look at the site before I visit the family.”

Lucas landed the plane with nary a bounce of the wheels. I suppose if I’d had a hundred or so years to practice, I’d be pretty good too. “So what’s my purpose here? I can’t imagine you need an enforcer for one badger. Or am I the bad cop to your good cop?”

The whine of the prop spinning down was replaced by the sound of a tractor far out in the field. It was a good thing Lucas was damping the moon’s effects, because right now I’d be screaming if not for it. Ever filled up a water balloon until it was so heavy it could break with each new drop from the faucet? Now imagine you’re inside the balloon, waiting for it to break. That’s what it felt like under the shield Lucas had over me. It was a lot different than Will’s cocoon—not quite as stifling, but more ominous.

“I need your second sight, mostly, to tell me if she’s exhibiting any feral qualities.”

“And I do that, how? What does feral look like in the aura stream?” I’ve seen lots of different auras on shifters, and they all had a sort of personality. It’s like a woman going to find hair dye that’s “brown.”

Which brown? Chestnut, or honey or auburn or a hundred shades in between?

“According to my former second in command, it’s really easy to tell—like spotting meat that’s spoiled even through cellophane where you can’t smell it. You’ll know it when you see it and it’ll be unmistakable.” He paused before opening the plane door. “But the cop thing isn’t a bad idea. The Kendall girl has, as her father phrased it, anger management issues. Most badgers do, and Nigel still can make even your old enforcer in Chicago seem like a fluffy bunny.”

Ah. Considering said enforcer had once shredded my back until you could see ribs and organs, I decided to steer clear of old Nigel.

Lucas slid off his headset and gave a small wave to the lanky man in grimy coveralls who was walking our way. The old white frame house behind him had probably been a stage stop a century before. The light that shone out through the windows was fading as the sun rose. A cat jumped lightly onto the railing of the wraparound porch. Reminded me of Sue’s old house, back when I met her.

Thinking of her threw open the door in my mind without even intending to. There was a gasp inside my mind and then a stab of pain that felt like an ice pick drilling through my temple. I’ve never felt like I had to be particularly gentle or careful with Sue, so now I felt really strange, wanting to apologize for a simple mind brush.

You don’t need to apologize. It was amazing how good it felt to hear her voice, however tired.

I won’t stay, but Amber said my contact with you is hurting you. Is that true? Has it been happening for long? I felt a twinge in my shoulder, like a shrug. Sue can do that sometimes . . . make my muscles move when she moves.

A month or so, I guess. I don’t remember the exact day it started. But you’ve been so busy, I didn’t want to worry you. I . . . thought I could handle it.

I growled then in frustration and worry, and Lucas noticed from outside the plane. He turned and his eyes started to glow slightly. The bubble increased in strength and Sue became a whisper I had to struggle to hear. I realized I hadn’t even gotten out of my seat yet and I doubted Lucas would be pleased at what I was doing. Can you tell Amber what you’re feeling? She’s trying to help.

I know, and I want to help her. But I can’t talk. My brain’s not connecting to my body right now. But I was doing research last week, and I think there’s a ritual that might help. Tell Amber to look at page seventy-four in the old book her sister brought her. They’re not numbered so I started counting from the first page, even though it’s blank.

A ritual? What kind of ritual? I’m not sure I like this idea.

It’s . . . complicated. There’s . . . there’s . . . a . . . way to make—

Her voice was fading fast and sounding tight with pain. I didn’t want to wear her out or make her any worse. Never mind. Rest now. I’ll call Amber.

I felt her smile in my mind like a ray of sunshine through clouds, even though her voice was fading to the barest whisper. I like it that you worry. That’s . . . selfish of me, huh? But I do like it. And no . . . no matter what, I love you.

She meant it too, and that amazes me to this day. Wolf, hit man and all, and she really does love me. Weird. Love you too. Get some sleep.

I pushed shut the door between our minds with some effort and a lot of trepidation. I really didn’t like how her voice sounded at the end—way too slow and slurry.

Work. I definitely needed to get back to work and get my mind off this. There was well and truly nothing I could do from here. But first I pulled out my cell phone. Of course, no signal here in the boonies. I’d have to borrow one or find a landline to get Amber started at that end.

GETTING INVITED IN for coffee had been a good thing, both because I really needed coffee, and I needed a bathroom. Plus, they were happy to let me make a call to the clinic to talk to Amber. Well, they weren’t happy. They smelled scared as hell. Sampson’s wife kept hovering near the staircase, and her eyes and scent told me she would fight to her own death if we even thought of heading upstairs to where, I presume, her children slept. But the scent of fear made my stomach clench, so it was good that I found a quiet spot in the living room, away from people, to make the call.

Amber wasn’t pleased that Sue and I had been in contact, but she promised to check on the page in the book Sue mentioned. Once the call was done, I just sat back and enjoyed coffee with real cream from the cows in the barn, and stared out the window at the rising sun. It was coming up with that rich gold color that said it was going to be clear and hot. The sun forced back the pull of the moon until it was just background noise, instead of a steady pulse against my skin . . . and my stomach.

As we were getting in the old pickup that would make us blend in nicely, I realized my stomach was growling again, but this time not because of the scent of fear. This was the plain ole “haven’t eaten since dinner yesterday” variety. “Let’s see about finding a café in town. I could use a steak and eggs about now.”

Lucas nodded. “Not a bad idea. I’d like us to pose as contractors looking to put in a bid on the water tower rebuild. That should open up some mouths and a local restaurant is a great place to find out the gossip to see if there’s anything Kendall didn’t mention. You know anything about water towers?”