Howling Moon (24 page)

Holly was on
the ground, blood spurting from her throat. Corrine raised her bloody muzzle skyward and howled in triumph.

Cat roared with pain and rage. Her attention was distracted by a flicker of movement glimpsed from the corner of her eye. Instinctively she ducked. She felt the wind of the wolf’s body as it passed over her. Baring claws, she reached up. Using the animal’s own momentum, she ripped through its underbelly. Blood and vital fluids spilled in a dark rain as a woman’s scream rent the air.

The others closed and the true fight began.

It was a blur of pain and fury. There were three wolves remaining. The wolf Cat had eviscerated lay in an unmoving heap below the tree that had stopped her flight.

Again and again the wolves closed, trying for a kill. Cat fought with everything she had. Her use of magic against Jack had been instinctive. Now that she’d been trained it deserted her. It required concentration to call it deliberately, and the wolves were giving her precious little time.

While Cat was struggling with the male, the brown wolf closed in a try for her unprotected throat. Cat spun, twisting her spine to wrench away from him in a move that tore meat from her shoulder but enabled her, in turn, to close her jaws over the brown wolf’s neck. She locked her powerful jaws, twisting her head sharply sideways. The wolf’s spine snapped with an audible crack.

Cat threw the body into Corrine, who had been edging forward on her right. The male had pulled back slightly, coordinating his attack with die remaining female.

An ear-splitting screech cut the winter air. A blur of white hit John hard and fast from above, knocking him from his feet as wicked talons tore viciously through his thick fur, leaving bloody wounds before Emma shot upward again.

Corrine looked from one to the other of her three fallen companions. She crouched, preparing to leap. Cat steadied herself to meet the attack.

“Enough!”

A huge black wolf with one white paw appeared between them as if by magic. One moment Raphael was not there. The next he was. Sunlight shone on his muzzle as he raised his massive head to give a long, mournful howl that echoed through the woods.

A second wolf, larger, and black as night, padded over to Holly. In a shimmer of power Raven shifted forms and began working to save her. A snowy owl settled onto the bloodied ground and began checking the fallen wolves.

“How’s Holly?” Raphael’s voice was a rumbling growl. His eyes never left Corrine.

“We were in time. She’ll need blood, but she’ll live.”

“Silver?”

“No.” Raven answered. “The attack must have torn the cross from her throat.” Raphael nodded once in acknowledgment. He paced over to the female with measured steps. “Corrine Castillion, you have attacked and infected a human in an attempted murder. Your crimes are punishable by death.”

Cat watched Corrine struggle against the magic Raphael used to hold her in place. Her eyes showed white all around, and her body quivered, but she could not move, could not flee.

He moved relentlessly forward until their noses were almost touching. His form shimmered, until he stood before her, naked, but not vulnerable. “Raven, Emma, as agents of Wolven, do you concur?”

“Yes.” Raven’s voice was completely steady. Emma didn’t speak; instead, she gave a bobbing nod of her feathered head.

“As Alpha of the Boulder pack, and as an agent of Wolven, I sentence you to death.” Raphael reached out with his right hand to touch the top of her head. Cat saw, and felt… something. This was not the rash of heat that she normally felt when magic was called. It was cold, and quiet, a deep, irresistible
pull,
a dangerous undertow in a warm ocean. The process was slow, as though her very essence of life was being drained from her. Cat couldn’t tear her eyes from the scene, both horrified and pleased as justice was issued.

Corrine shuddered, legs stiffened, and then her eyes rolled back in her head before she fell to the ground – dead.

He repeated the whole procedure twice more on the other attackers. The fourth wolf was already dead from the wounds inflicted during the fight.

“Raven, can you handle the cleanup?” Raphael didn’t look at his son. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything. He turned his back on everyone, walking slowly toward the end of the clearing. Cat tried to reach his mind, but he’d shut her out, hiding his thoughts behind a barrier she couldn’t penetrate.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” It was the last thing he said before he shifted back to wolf form and disappeared into the woods.

Cat sat sideways
in the passenger seat of the Geo watching Raven deal with Holly in back. Emma was driving as fast as the weather and the narrow mountain roads would allow. Raven was a healer, and he’d done what he could. But Holly needed blood, and quickly. So they were headed to the pack hospital.

“I can’t believe they did that.” The words were a hoarse whisper. Tears were streaming unheeded down her cheeks. “Me, I understand. But
Holly?
She’s
family.”

Raven didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. But the scent of his sorrow and worry became tinged with dark rage. “Tell me what happened.”

“I got a message on the answering machine. They said it was the movers and they wanted to reschedule from the afternoon to this morning.”

“Is it an old-fashioned machine? With a tape?” Emma asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ll need that tape to do voice matching, in case someone else is involved,” Emma observed. Raven nodded and gestured for Cat to continue.

“They were waiting for us. I caught the scent and told her to get back in the car, but it was too late.” Cat stared at her friend. Holly was breathing, but she was so very pale, almost gray, and her lips had a bluish tinge.

“It was a setup.”

“Why did she have to be there? It should’ve just been me.” Cat met Raven’s gaze over the back of the car seat. “What if she dies?”

“We’re here.” Emma made the announcement as she braked to a skidding stop at the clinic entrance.

Cat climbed out, tilting the seat forward so that Raven could exit behind her. He pulled Holly from the backseat and carried her inside the building.

“What if she dies?” Cat turned to Emma. The other woman gave her a penetrating stare.

“Raven said she’d make it, and she will. She won’t die today.”

“But the change?”

Emma shrugged, meeting her gaze. “The change… there’s no telling.” She turned on her heel, striding naked into the building. Cat followed.

Betty was on duty – she and the nurse had Holly on a bed and hooked up for blood transfusions in rapid order and Cat could watch as the wounds closed under Betty’s healing magic. Almost immediately her color began to improve, and her breathing, while harsh-sounding, was stronger, more even.

Cat stayed at the hospital until
she
was certain Holly would be all right. When the other woman was alert, and talking to Raven and Emma, she slipped away, going out the fire door to the parking lot. She went to Holly’s Geo to get dressed. Like most Sazi and family members, Holly kept loose clothing on hand in case of an unexpected need.

Tears of helpless rage stung Cat’s eyes as she buttoned up the plaid flannel shirt and green sweatpants. Holly wouldn’t blame her. She knew that. But she blamed herself. She’d seen the pack in action with Ned up at Wolf’s Run – knew how much they hated her and what they were capable of. She’d put her best friend at risk through sheer carelessness. It wouldn’t happen again.

Cat grabbed her purse from the bloodied floorboards and pulled out her cell. The charge was dead. She looked at the building, considered going back inside to call a cab, but no. She didn’t want to see Holly, Raven, hell… anyone. So she slammed the door of the vehicle and started on the long walk to Violet’s. The raw wind cut like a knife through her borrowed clothes, but she barely noticed.

She wasn’t sure how far she’d gone before she came upon the gas station. Rummaging coins from her purse she walked up to the graffiti-decorated pay phone. Her first call was to the cab company. The second call was to her godfather.

Cat climbed from
the cab, slipping the driver enough money that he was more than happy to wait for her as she changed clothes and threw a few things into her bags. She walked across the street and asked Mrs. Zabatos to keep an eye on the house for a few days. The older woman was stiffly formal at first, but her attitude softened slightly when she learned that Violet was on her honeymoon. It was no surprise that she was more than happy to hear that Cat was leaving.

She spent most of the cab ride down to Denver only half listening to the driver chatter about his views on politics, the president, and smokers. If he noticed she was only half listening, he didn’t seem to mind.

Cat felt numb. She knew she should be horrified. She’d killed a woman. Yes, it was a wolf, and yes, she’d been attacked with provocation, but – it just didn’t seem
real. Nothing
seemed real. It seemed like some horrible dream that she just couldn’t manage to wake herself from, no matter how hard she tried.

She checked into a five-star hotel in downtown Denver. Elegant, expensive, it had been a favorite of her parents on the few occasions they’d found themselves in Colorado. Even without a reservation she was able to obtain a beautiful suite of rooms on the third floor, and the concierge had been more than happy to offer his assistance. Should she require anything at all, all she need do was call.

She thanked him, tipped the bellhop outrageously, and locked the door behind him. Grabbing a tumbler, and a bottle from the wet bar, she pulled a chair over by the balcony doors. She poured herself a stiff drink and curled up in the chair with her legs tucked beneath her. For the next several hours she drank and stared out at the lights of the city as night began to fall.

At ten o’clock the phone to her suite rang. She untangled her legs and crossed the room, answering it on the third ring. It was the front desk putting through a call.

“Catherine, it’s Charles. I’m in the lobby. May I come up?”

She gave him her suite number and hung up the phone. She dropped the empty liquor bottle into the garbage, poured herself another drink, and turned on the lamps. By the time her godfather knocked on the door, the place looked warm and inviting. She hadn’t expected Charles to show up, but she wasn’t surprised, either. All her life he’d tended to appear unexpectedly in the middle of a crisis.
Like the Lone Ranger
–
only taller.

Cat opened the door to greet him. As always, his bodyguard preceded him. Tonight it was Yusef. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was powerfully built. His shambling gait and prominent nose instantly marked him as one of the bears – now that she knew such things were possible – as did his scent. His eyes were small and dark, under a bushy black eyebrow that slashed across his forehead in a single harsh line. Cat nodded in silent greeting as he went past. Yusef acknowledged the nod, but set about me business of checking the suite.

Cat gave her godfather a quick hug. She hadn’t seen him since the funeral, and she realized how very much she’d missed the solid comfort of his presence in the background.

Charles stood a little over six foot one, not so tall by current standards, but quite a height for a man of his age, and he seemed bigger, primarily because of his bulk. He was nearly as broad as he was tall, with massive, muscular shoulders. He was an imposing man, but generally a cheerful one, at least around Cat. Tonight he looked tired, and angrier than she’d ever seen him. The small dark eyes above his large nose burned with barely controlled fury.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Charles’s gaze was intent enough to make her squirm.

“Hell, no.” Cat closed the door behind him and crossed over to the seating area where she curled back up on the couch, pulling the plush hotel robe tight around her body before reaching onto the end table to retrieve her glass. While Charles took a seat she took another long pull from her drink. She’d been drinking steadily in hope that the alcohol would help her break past the cold rage that threatened to envelop her. It wasn’t working.

“You can’t get drunk anymore,” he said, and shrugged when her eyes widened. “You’re too powerful. Thought you should know. They forget to mention that in early training.”

She watched as Charles took stock of their surroundings. The living room area was beautifully decorated in shades of gold and green; valuable antiques and art works mixed in with more comfortable modern furniture to create a comfortable, livable space. An elaborate stereo system and flat-screen television and DVD were hidden at the moment, in a polished cherry cabinet designed to look like an antique wardrobe.

Yusef brought Charles a double Scotch on the rocks. At a nod from the older man, he left the room. Cat knew he would stand guard in the hall outside the suite until Charles was ready to leave, even if it took all night. She remembered all of die times that Uncle Chuck and her father had played chess and talked – all the while with Yusef and Ivan guarding outside the doors.

“What are your plans?” Charles waited for the door to close, then settled his bulk into an overstuffed chair.

“I’m going to avoid the pack for a bit.”

“That’s probably wise.” He spoke softly. He swirled the contents of the crystal tumbler he held, the ice clinking softly against the glass.

“I’ll have to go back for the challenge, I suppose, and Holly’s first…
change.”

Charles looked up, his gaze intent. “That would be a very bad idea.”

She met his eyes calmly. “It’s something I have to do. She’s my friend.”

“You could let the boy die. In fact, you probably should. Going back gives your enemies a time and place where they
know
they can get you.” His voice was completely bland, as though they were discussing the weather, or the Broncos’ chances of making the Super Bowl. His pleasantly noncommittal attitude irked her. There were lives at stake, damn it.

“No. Not if I can save them.”

His voice was mild, but a small amount of sarcasm played through it at her horrified face. “Yet, you killed a woman today. She may have been in wolf form, but she was still a woman. I don’t see you weeping copious tears for
her
death.”

Cat gave him a hostile look. “No. I’m not. I had to defend myself. They were going to kill me, and Holly, too.” She shook her head, her anger and frustration bubbling abruptly to the surface. “Holly’s like Violet, you know. A sweeter, gentler person you’d never meet. They treat her like shit, and would’ve killed her without a second thought.” She took a deep swallow of her drink. “I know I should feel guilty – should feel
something.
But I just… don’t.” Cat knew he heard the pain in her voice, the regret. She truly
wasn’t
the same woman she had been weeks ago. A part of her had died with her parents in the attack. She was harder now, colder. For better or worse, she’d changed, and a part of her grieved for it.

Cat had a flash of insight. Growing up, everyone had always commented how much she was her father’s daughter. Now, she was like her mother. It made her wonder what had happened to Janet to make her so relentlessly pragmatic? She’d probably never know.

“What about Jack, Catherine?”

“Catherine’s dead, Uncle Chuck. She died in the woods with her parents. I’m just
Cat
now.” She paused for a moment as he nodded his head once and took another drink. “How many years has he been doing this? How many people has he killed?”

“The first we know of was in 1954. Truthfully, we don’t know how many for sure.”

“Give me a ballpark figure.” Her voice was cold.

“At least twenty. Probably more.”

“And no one tried to stop him. How…
charming!”
Her bitterness was palpable.

“That’s not entirely true,” Charles corrected her. “Raphael tried. He gathered his proof, and because Jack was still in charge of the law enforcement bureau, he presented his evidence to the council.”

Cat sat bolt upright, spilling her drink. She ignored the mess, staring at her godfather intently. “And?”

“Before we could act, do anything really, the file arrived.”

Cat set her drink onto the table, wiping her wet hand on her robe to dry it. “Ah, yes, the infamous file.”

“It’s a legitimate concern, Cat. Unpalatable as it may be – the world governments would not hesitate to sacrifice the lives of every Sazi in the world to prevent widespread panic of the human populace. We had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she snapped.

“There isn’t always a good one.”

She couldn’t argue with that, though she wanted to. Right now she wanted to rage at someone, something, and Charles was the nearest target. And yet when she looked up at him, saw the expression on his face, the anger faded to cold bitterness. “So you did nothing.”

“Not ‘nothing.’ We have tried, over the years, to contain Jack’s excesses, although with limited success.”

Cat gave a very unladylike snort.

“If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.” Charles didn’t keep the heat from his words.

“Actually, I do.” Cat rose. She padded barefoot through the suite and into the bedroom area where she retrieved her notes from the case she’d packed.

She dropped them into his lap and began pacing. As he skimmed the written notes she began presenting her plan.

It was deceptively simple in theory. There were four basic steps. First, find the original file. Second, create a duplicate file that appeared identical on the surface, but instead of containing proof of the Sazi, it would be a “confessional” with proof of Jack’s crimes. Third, make the switch, destroying the original. And finally, kill Jack.

Under each of the basic steps Cat had outlined, in detail, what would need to happen, the resources required, with the potential pitfalls and how best to avoid them.

As she spoke of the plan, she watched his expressions, looking for telltale clues as to his reaction. There weren’t many. Somehow he’d even managed to mute his scent.

Charles sat silently, deep in thought. “I need to consider this carefully. On the surface, it looks workable, if difficult. Then again, I would’ve expected nothing less. You are your father’s daughter.”

“I would say this was more my mother’s type of thing.” Cat stopped next to the balcony doors.

“Oh, yes.” Charles agreed. “I learned early on never to underestimate Janet. Chris could and would forgive and forget. Janet didn’t.” He stood, placing the papers in a neat stack on the coffee table. “I’m inclined to agree to your plan, but will take a few days to get things organized properly. Don’t go back to Violet’s. The hotel is much safer. Ivan’s downstairs with the car. He’ll stay in Denver to help with the details of getting started and security for the mountain property and your trips to visit the pack.” He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a thin silver cell phone. “This is for you. It’s one of the phones used by my personal guard. Keep it with you in case I need to get in touch with you. Don’t give the number to anyone.”

“And you?”

“I have some personal business to take care of.”