Darkmoon (#5) (The Cain Chronicles) (8 page)

Abel knocked back another shot, slammed it on the table, and kicked the chair out so that it pointed toward Seth. “Sit down.”

“I shouldn’t have punched you.”

“No, that was great. I’ve been wanting an excuse to beat your ass. I’m only disappointed that I didn’t get to break all the teeth out of your head.”

“I’m trying to apologize.”

What a load of bullshit. Seth the peacemaker, always trying to make nice. “I don’t want to hear it.” He pushed one of the shot glasses toward Seth. “Drink.”

“One of us has to drive back to the ranch,” Seth said.

“You heard me. Drink.”

Seth picked one up and cupped it in his hand. “Stephanie said that she thinks stress is giving Rylie contractions.” His eyes were fixed on the silver fluid. “I shouldn’t be jealous because you can help Rylie in a way that I can’t. It’s not your fault that I’m immune to werewolf bites.”

He had spoken too loudly. A few heads at the closest table turned to look at them.

The news was playing on the TV in the corner, and they were still covering the San Francisco riots. The anchor mentioned Greenville in the same breath, as well as a few other towns. Hopefully, if someone heard Seth and Abel talking, they would think it was just about the news.

“Didn’t I just say that I don’t want to hear your wussy crap?” Abel asked. “And keep your voice down.”

He drank another shot, but Seth didn’t follow suit.

“Rylie’s pregnant with twins,” Seth said, much quieter than before.

Abel’s hand froze on the shot glass he had just turned face down on the table. “And she wants me to deal with Levi for her.”

“That’s right.”

There was only one shot of tequila left. Abel finished it off and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “If I go back, are you going to let me kick his ass the way he deserves?” Seth nodded. “All right. Then I’ll go back.”

They stood to leave, but the men at the next table stood, too. The three of them were burly, and hairier than a werewolf on the full moon. “You talking werewolves?” one of them asked. He was wearing a t-shirt with a girl in a bikini draped over a muscle car. The other two were tattooed and heavy—muscular, but also fat. Probably slow. Abel would bet on himself in a fight against any one of them. But all three?

Abel opened his mouth to respond, but Seth spoke first. “We don’t want any trouble.”

He cursed his brother silently. Seth might as well have just said,
Yes, we’re werewolves, what’s it to you?

The men exchanged looks. They all smelled thoroughly drunk. Must have been nice.

“I think I heard you say that there are werewolves in town,” said the second man.

The third jumped in. “I think they said they
are
werewolves.” He cracked his knuckles, each of which was tattooed with a separate letter. Together, his hands spelled out “hardcore.” Abel couldn’t help but smirk.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, my brothers,” Abel said. Despite the smile, his voice was hard, and his blood started to flow hot. “You’re not thinking right. If we were werewolves, would that mean we’re the kind of men you want to make trouble with?”

“Abel,” Seth said warningly.

“We don’t want werewolves in our town,” the first one said, blasting the smell of beer in Abel’s face with a breath. “So
are
you a werewolf?”

Seth spoke again. “
Abel…
”

But Abel only grinned

“Maybe I am,” he said, shoving his face close to the man with the knuckle tattoos. “What are you boys gonna do about it?”

He didn’t even see the swinging fist coming.

Knuckles connected with the side of his head, sending him spilling over the nearest table. Glass showered on the floor. The women who were sitting at it leaped away with shouts.

Abel was back on his feet in time to see Seth catch another punch thrown by the first speaker. Brawls were Seth’s specialty; he grabbed the fist, twisted the attacker’s arm behind his back, and jerked the wrist up between the shoulder blades. The man cried out.

Seth was distracted, and didn’t see that Hardcore was drawing back for a kidney punch.

Abel launched at him, grabbing his shirt and carrying both of them into the jukebox hard enough to make it bounce against the wall. The Led Zeppelin song that had been playing cut off.

Someone jumped onto Abel’s back, trying to pry him off Hardcore. Abel threw himself onto the ground, body-slamming his assailant into the floor boards, and the shout in his ear was so damn satisfying.

Abel kicked free of his grip and ducked under another swing by Hardcore, then delivered a swift right hook into his jaw.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Seth yelled, throwing the first guy over the bar.

It was only then that Abel heard the sirens underneath the waitress’s screaming. Someone had called the cops.

Abel laughed as he grabbed Seth’s arm and dragged him out the front door.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good day.

E
IGHT

An Unearthly Visitor

Abel was relieved to see
that Crystal had gotten the Chevelle safely back to the ranch. He didn’t usually let women drive it—not even Rylie—but it had been the fastest way to get rid of her, so he had made an exception. But it seemed she was pretty offended at having him get rid of her at all. That, or the alcohol hit her harder than it hit him: she had dumped his car by the mailbox and left his engine running. Last time he ever let a woman drive his baby.

He jumped out of the truck and slipped into the Chevelle. “You okay, darling?” he cooed, running his hands over the dashboard.

“Abel,” Seth said from the driver’s seat of the truck.

“Bug off, I’m checking my girl,” Abel yelled back.

“Check it later. We have visitors.”

That got his attention. He followed Seth’s gaze to the top of the hill, where he saw a group of people standing together. Even at that distance, he could recognize Gwyn, but there were two people he didn’t know—people that didn’t smell like pack. The odor on the wind was like herbs, blood, and something unfamiliar that made the hair on the back of Abel’s neck stand.

Seth drove on while Abel pulled the Chevelle off the path. By the time Abel reached the top of the hill, Seth had gone inside, leaving Gwyn alone with the visitors. In the winter sunlight, Abel could see that her lips had lost all color and her eyes were fading to gray. She still passed for living, though. She didn’t have any holes yet, like Eleanor had.

“So you’re a witch,” Gwyneth said, pushing her hat back with a knuckle to get a better look at the man. Abel could understand why she looked so dubious about him: the only way to describe the visitor was “strange.”

At first glance, Abel thought that he had to be pretty old. His hair was thick, but white, like a man in his seventies. But his face didn’t have a single wrinkle. He could have been anywhere between thirty and sixty years old. And he was big, too—it wasn’t often that Abel ran across someone tall enough to look him in the eye.

Abel mistrusted him instantly. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he asked.

“This is the help that Stephanie mentioned getting,” Gwyn said. “He’s been invited here, so we’ll be polite, right?”

The witch offered his gloved hand to Abel. “James Faulkner.”

“Abel Wilder.” He didn’t reach out to shake. This dog didn’t do tricks.

The front door opened, and Stephanie rushed down the path to meet them by the garden, Scott limping a few feet behind her. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. “James,” she said, embracing him tightly.

When she finally released him, Scott extended a hand. “Good to see you again.” He was falling apart faster than Gwyn, starting with the bullet hole in his forehead. Even a hat couldn’t hide the fact that his dried skin was receding to bare white skull underneath, and he was wearing a large jacket to hide the rest of his decay.

“Good to see you too, sir,” James said.

The girl standing beside him cleared her throat, and Abel looked at her for the first time.

Her brown hair was chopped in a pixie cut, her eyes were the color of moss, and she had the kind of hips that were made for dancing. Not Abel’s type, but cute. Even so, she looked pretty boring next to James.

Stephanie’s demeanor cooled as soon as she realized James had company. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Brianna.” She held out her hand. “I’m James’s new apprentice.”

The doctor arched an eyebrow at James. “New apprentice.”

“She’s from my old coven in Colorado. It’s a thing of necessity, I assure you.” He shot a look at Brianna. “And you are
not
my apprentice, so please stop saying that. I’m not going to tell you again.”

She looked utterly unperturbed by his response. “Two werewolves, a witch, and two critters I don’t recognize. They make me think of mausoleums.” Brianna pointed at Gwyn and Scott.

“Zombie,” James supplied.

“Great,” Stephanie said. “Just what you need. More teenage girls with special powers to corrupt.” She huffed. “Well, thanks for coming, anyway.”

“It’s my pleasure. I have to say, I’m more than a little surprised to see what condition you’re in, Scott. What can I do to help all of you?”

“We have a problem. Well, several problems, but I think you can only help us with one of them,” Stephanie said. “First of all, it turns out that my father is a necromancer.” That announcement should have surprised or confused anyone else, but James only nodded. “Scott reanimated Gwyneth while he was still alive, but he—well, he died.”

“I see that.”

“Anyway, without a resident necromancer, both of our resident zombies are starting to fall apart. Scott believes that a more powerful witch might be able to channel his necromantic abilities. We would all be very happy if we could restore Gwyn to life.” She sighed. “And my father too, I suppose.”

“Ah,” James said. That was it.

“Can you do it?” Abel asked.

The witch clapped his hands together and blew into them. “Yes,” he said after a long moment. “I suspect I can.”

Gwyn and Abel exchanged looks. For once, they were on the exact same page, and neither of them believed this guy was for real. “You sound mighty confident in yourself,” she said.

A light filled James’s eyes, brightening the already pale irises. “If I can’t do it, nobody else will be able to. You can trust me on that.” He blinked, and that strange moment ended so quickly that Abel wasn’t sure he’d even seen it in the first place. “So, shall we go inside?”

Stephanie took the new witches
downstairs to the cellar to talk, and Abel decided to avoid them, since Brianna’s presence meant that he didn’t have to be Scott’s errand boy anymore. He was bent on talking with Rylie—whether Seth wanted him to or not.

He found Rylie with his brother in the orchard. They were sitting on a bench, staring out at the trees, and separated by about six inches of space and radiating awkwardness. Seth looked up when Abel approached. “Hey.”

“Don’t stop the party on my account,” Abel said, leaning on the nearest tree. “What’s with all the joy and laughter?”

Neither of them responded. Rylie looked drained and sad, and it put a dent in Abel’s usually impenetrable sense of humor.

“I’ll let you guys talk,” Seth said, and he went inside.

“Okay, what’s with that?” Abel asked as soon as he was gone.

Rylie blew out a sigh. It was cold enough that her breath billowed around her face. “Seth’s trying to talk me into using a bodyguard.”

He laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. The new pack member has a background in ‘personal security,’ and Seth arranged for him to watch me.” She groaned and covered her eyes with a hand. “I don’t want to be watched. I don’t need to be protected. I am
not
going to have some scary biker wolf lurking everywhere I go.”

“I’m scary,” Abel said.

“Not to me.” Her hand slid off of her face, and she gave him a pathetic smile. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, you
sound
glad.”

“I just found out that I’m going to have twins, my fiancé is trying to attach a biker security detail to me, and Levi is stomping around like he runs the ranch. Should I be in a good mood?”

“Sure,” Abel said, “because now I’m back.”

The corner of Rylie’s mouth twitched. “We need a game plan. Pyper and Daven are starting to treat Levi like he’s the Alpha, so he’s getting traction. But he won’t be able to challenge us if you start controlling the pack’s transformation on the moons. Levi can’t do that yet, so no amount of blustering is going to help if you do it first.”

“I don’t need to know how to change the wolves if I just punch Levi’s face in.”

“But you’ll also be showing that you can only lead with force. This is a lot better, trust me,” Rylie said. “I can show you how to do it. It’s easy.”

“For you.”

“And it will be for you, too.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Once you can change yourself at will, I’ll show you how to use it on other wolves. Okay?”

“You’re awfully bossy for a fragile little flower that needs a bodyguard.”

“Shut up or I’ll bite you.”

He grinned. “Any time, Rylie. Any time.”

N
INE

The Real Alpha

Weeks passed without Abel and
Rylie getting a chance to speak again. Despite Brianna’s help, Scott kept Abel busy running errands, and winter started turning into spring. Moons came and went. March approached. And Rylie kept growing.

He finally caught her doing dishes one night after dinner. Her stomach was getting in the way, and there was a big wet patch where she had been leaning against the sink.

“So when are you going to teach me to change?” Abel asked.

Rylie handed him a wet plate and a dishtowel. “I don’t know. I’m always so tired. Seth and I have been going to bed early every night.”

“You can stay up just this once,” he said, running the towel over the plate and dropping it on the counter. “Unless a late bedtime is too rough on the Alpha?”

A small smile touched her lips, but it was interrupted by a yawn. “Okay. Tomorrow.”