Blood Moons (35 page)

The grass came up to her knees and she ran her hand over
the tops of the bright green blades. Colorful flowers popped
up here and there, and to her left, the vast field dented and
dipped, creating a lake. She built a small wooden pier and
strolled down its length to sit on the edge and dip her bare
feet into the cool water.

Dara had missed this place, missed the peace and
contentment she felt here. It was like her happy place
castle—where she went to hide away from the world now
more often than she cared to admit. The only difference was,
one other person had access here.

The forest in the distance was as dark and ominous as
before. There were creatures in it now, their voices so loud
she could hear some of them all the way at the lake. She
frowned at the thick thunderclouds that had settled over that
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part of her world. They rumbled and flashed with lightning
every so often, flooding the forest floor with rain.

It worried her. This was Tristan's doing, a reflection of his
state of mind.

In the next instant, she was in the middle of the field,
going toward the forest: an unconscious decision, a need to
see him. Sense him somehow. It became more and more
strenuous the farther she went. Dara was approaching her
limits. When she couldn't go any farther, she stopped and just
stood there, watching the storm rage on and on.

This wasn't just a random tantrum. Had he lost his mind as
he'd feared he would? Dara reached out, pushing her hand
through air that felt thick as mud. Her touch rippled outward
in every direction.

The moment a ripple touched the forest, the thunder
quieted. The rain eased to a low hiss and the clouds lightened
from nearly black to gray. Dara could feel eyes on her.

Somewhere, in the depths of that forest, something was
watching her.

There was no sound to betray movement, but a dark form
melted out of the shadows like a ghost. It was large, but low
to the ground. Dara tracked its approach by the movement of
the grass. About halfway, the creature straightened to its full
height, still dark and ominous, backlit by the setting sun.

He came to within fifteen yards of her, where he reached
his limits. Dara gazed into the face of a creature she didn't
recognize. His hair was wild, streaked like a tiger's fur. Dark
stripes slashed across his skin like exotic tattoos, but on him
they looked natural, like a tiger wearing a human skin. His
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face was altered, not completely human anymore. His
cheekbones were sharper, more prominent. His eyes glowed
in the dying sunlight, green and piercing. He had fangs, big
enough to look threatening, but not enough to make him
unrecognizable.

Then he moved half a step closer again, eyes intent on
her. While Dara couldn't move any farther, he seemed to be
expanding his limits by the minute. Another half step. Then
another. And the entire time, he didn't say a word. He just
watched her, unblinking.

Closer and closer he inched that incredible, powerful body.

He raised his hand, reaching out to her the way she'd done
before, his fingers tipped with lethal black claws. His hand
was turned palm up, beckoning. Dara felt compelled to
reciprocate. She reached through that thick barrier of
separation again, just touching one of his claws.

That small contact was enough for him. In an instant, she
felt invaded, taken over, her mind at his mercy. He searched
every corner of her soul, her every thought and perception,
every emotion and dream. He did it so quickly it was all over
in a second. Before she could pull away, another half step
brought him close enough to capture her hand in his.

He still wouldn't speak, wouldn't allow her to question him,
but when he got even closer, he brought her hand to his
chest and pressed her palm against his beating heart.

And Dara understood.

Tristan wasn't stretching his limits; wasn't straining to reach her from light years away.

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He was moving, bridging the physical distance to reach her mind. Already, he was close enough that their separate versions of this world were beginning to overlap.

He was with her now, sifting those claws of his through her
hair. His face shifted, softened, became fully human, but his
eyes never stopped glowing.

As the sun set, taking the last of its light with it, Tristan
leaned down to nuzzle her temple and brush her cheek with
his until their lips touched. When he kissed her, it was
achingly slow and sweet, the beast gentling himself for her,
doing everything he possibly could not to frighten her.

When he ended the kiss, Dara felt as if he'd stolen her
soul. His arm was around her, holding her close, and when he
released her hand, his heartbeat seemed to stay in the palm
of it.

Stars were twinkling above them, drawing her eye. Tristan
followed her gaze up to the needle-thin sliver of a moon
above the lake. He cupped her cheek and made her look at
him again. His eyes held a promise, an assurance. Dara felt
protected here with him, insulated from everything else, but
the knowledge was still there that tomorrow night, a young
girl might die.

She couldn't let that happen. And so she slipped from
Tristan's embrace, ignored the clouds darkening again,
gathering just above her this time, and left.

Back in her room, Dara shivered.

"Who was that?" There was a young girl sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Dara's bed, staring at her with wide eyes.

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"What are you talking about? How did you get in here?"

The girl scooted out of the way to let Dara stand and stretch her legs, but she wouldn't leave. "I don't know," she said, "I didn't see what happened, just felt it. He's like the prince from
Beauty and the Beast
."

Dara stared at the child. "How old are you?"

"Old enough." She didn't look more than ten or eleven years old.

"Why are you here?"

The girl shrugged and got to her feet to sit on the edge of the bed. "Nell sent me to check on you 'cause you weren't at dinner."

"Are you one of hers?"

She giggled. "No, I'm just Pixie."

A fitting name.
For a girl with red hair cut short and sticking out everywhere. She had freckles on her nose and her eyes were almost scary blue. She was just getting to that gangly period between child and woman when her limbs would grow before the rest of her, but there was something about her that Dara couldn't put her finger on. She didn't look awkward or uncomfortable in her own body, the way Dara had been starting to feel at her age. Some girls had all the luck...

"Well, Pixie, you can tell Nell that I'm fine. Now shoo."

Pixie's little shoulders slumped. "I was hoping you would tell me about the prince. I promise I won't try to steal him."

Dara's mouth twitched. "He's not really a prince. He's the villain."

Pixie perked right up. "Even better!"

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Dara laughed. She couldn't help it; the girl was just too cute. But much too strong a telepath for her age. Pixie shouldn't be hanging around her, let alone
feeling
inside her mind. "It is way past your bedtime, kid. Go to sleep."

Pixie turned her head toward the door before the knock came. "Dara!" It was Nell. The woman opened the door, spared Pixie a glance, but then ignored her. "Someone sent a severed finger to the police station on Randal Street. It was in an envelope with your name on it."

Dara went cold all over. She wanted to ask, but didn't want to know. Didn't want the young girl in the room to have to hear anything about this. Pixie was quiet, still perched on her bed, but gave no sign that she was upset by this. Either she was too young to comprehend, or she'd seen worse. Dara hoped it was the first. Part of her wanted to send Pixie out of the room again; maybe she'd listen this time. But she knew it wouldn't do any good. She'd just find out another way.

"Was it ... was it Katie's?"

Nell shook her head. "The fingerprint didn't match. He got someone else."

"Does MacMurphy know?"

"He's already sent a couple of agents over there. If anyone saw the messenger, they'll find him. He said you're supposed to stay put and not do anything stupid."

"Okay," she said numbly.

Nell scanned her lightly and Dara was almost certain she didn't pick up on anything except shock. Assured that her student was in no shape to cause trouble, Nell left.

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Pixie gave Dara a kind of studying look that a child her age shouldn't be capable of. "You're going to do something bad, aren't you?" she said. "John won't be happy. He doesn't like it when we do something we're not supposed to."

Dara breathed through her emotions, centering her mind.

"I won't tell if you won't."

"But I should tell." For a moment, she had the same shadows in her eyes Dara had seen in MacMurphy's before.

"But you won't."

Pixie made a face and the shadows were gone. "Fine," she said. "But only if you promise to tell me about
him
."

"Him?"

"The vile villainous villain who touches you like you're the most precious thing in the universe."

It
had
felt that way, hadn't it?
"Fine. Now go."

Pixie shuffled her feet out the door. "Do you want me to wait out here, just in case?" At the look Dara gave her, the girl scurried off.

Dara closed and locked the door. If this went badly, she didn't want anyone else nearby. She sat on the bed and closed her eyes, opening the link to the killer. He'd been expecting her and didn't waste any time, shoving his consciousness through the door she'd opened then lounging in her mind.

"Who was it?"
she demanded.

"Tit for tat,"
he replied.
"What will you give me in return?"

He sounded almost normal, but his voice was accompanied by a faint echo of dozens of other voices, things he heard on a daily basis. They were whimpers and sobs, sometimes 324

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screams, silent prayers and pleas for mercy, or death. It was like listening to hell.
Abandon every hope, all you who enter
here.
Dara hadn't seen that warning the first time she'd seen his thoughts. It was too late now.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, let's see ... world peace, death to the so-called
government, a litter of fluffy kittens, but I'll settle for
something simple for now. I want your people off my back."

One of the voices—and it sounded very much like an evil version of the one carrying on this conversation—chuckled as he spoke.

"I don't have people."
It was true; she didn't belong to any organization, and she wasn't calling the shots at the Special Unit.

"Then whose side are you on?"

"No one's."

"Ooh."
He tittered, delighted.
"A rebel. I like it."

"Yes,"
she replied drily.
"The unaffiliated female. Run and
hide."

His name was Brendon and the first initial of his last name was Z. She filed that away to be examined later.

Brendon Z chuckled.
"I have a feeling your sarcasm was
meant to be ironic. Nonetheless, I run from no one."

"But you hide from everyone."

"Well, I'm not about to make it easy on you. What fun
would that be?"
He was stretching himself, covertly reaching for things in her mind. Dara made sure he found nothing but smooth mirrors, reflecting his touch right back at him. It 325

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seemed to unnerve him. He recoiled from his own reflection and she sensed his frustration and growing unease.

"Whose finger did you cut off?"

"Now, my sweet girl, you know better than that."

—Oh, God! Help me!—

There was no one around to hear the terrified shriek. His victim was alone at the moment.

"I answer one thing and you'll think you can ask a hundred
more. I'll tell you what. Because I'm such a nice guy, I'll give
you one question. Ask what you want to know the most, and
I'll tell you the truth. But I'll expect something in return."

He had no intention of giving her anything useful. This was a game to him, a small distraction from his own madness.

Well, Dara was done playing. She shoved mental fingers into his mind and sifted through his thoughts, blocking out his screams. There was so much chaos her mind felt sticky with it.

He often had episodes of uncontrollable rage, fits of madness during which he screamed at nothing, clawed at his own face. They were interspersed with periods of seeming lucidity, when the voices hushed slightly and he almost missed them. He remembered his victims, the moments before they died, their terror-filled gazes and their useless pleas.

Dara had to wade through all of it to find anything of use.

It tainted her, made her feel as if she would never get that madness out of her mind. But she kept at it, keeping him off balance so he didn't have a chance to cover his tracks.