Hunter Moon (The Moon Series) (2 page)

He was a wolf.

Lukas gaped. He had heard tales from his grandfather about men who ran as wolves, but he’d always thought they were stories. But now it turned out those stories weren’t just stories.

Zamiel was beside him, shoving a long rifle in his hands. Lukas took it without realizing it, his body automatically moving into a shooting stance. The rifle he held was like nothing he’d ever seen before, but it felt natural in his hand.

“Shoot,” the demon whispered in his ear, so close Lukas could feel the demon’s breath fan his cheek.

Lukas looked around. The wolf was in the treeline, moving deeper into the woods. He didn’t have a clear shot. He shook his head.

“Shoot!” Zamiel hissed, flinging his arm toward the wolf.

Lukas raised the gun to his shoulder, sighted, and fired. He wasn’t expecting it to hit anything, let alone the wolf-man. Instead of embedding itself safely into a tree trunk, the bullet arced around trees, moving around every obstacle like a guided missile.

It hit the wolf straight through the heart. The animal fell over in mid-stride, never knowing what hit it.

Lukas stared in awe at the still body of the wolf, then at the rifle. It was more than he ever thought possible.

“The bullets in that gun never miss what they aim for,” Zamiel said beside him. “I’ve offered you the quarry of a lifetime and the means to take them down. Surely that is worth the asking price.”

Lukas felt his face harden into a scowl. This is what he wanted. “You have a deal.”

Zamiel smiled, and his smile seemed to eat the world.

Chapter One

Kess crashed to the floor. Again. She was getting very tired of it. She pushed herself up from the mats that covered the hardwood floor and faced her opponent once more.

Mebis grinned at her, looking like he had done nothing more strenuous than stroll out of the house for a cup of coffee. Kess was sweating like a thoroughbred that had just run the Kentucky Derby. One more reason not to like sparring with Mebis. Kess managed not to growl at him, but only just. She faced him, falling back into a fighting stance.

His grin grew even wider, almost like he was mocking her. Kess frowned in concentration, her eyes watching his center of gravity like he’d taught her. Still, when he moved, she barely registered it. Kicks and punches came from out of nowhere, and Kess found herself backpedaling—again—to try to get out of the way of the blows she couldn’t block. She managed to get off a few hits of her own, but none of them even came close to connecting.

And then Mebis caught her in another leg sweep and she went down to the mats.

“CRAP!” she shouted in frustration, slapping her arms against the mat. “I hate sparring with you!”

Mebis offered her his good hand to help her up. After a few more moments of feeling sorry for herself, she took it. He pulled her to feet easily. Kess tried not to look at his other hand, the one that had been mauled by a werehyena, but her eyes kept straying to it anyway. Mebis wore a black glove to cover the silvery scars of the bite marks, as well as to hide how little the muscles and tendons actually worked. The hyena’s teeth had done more damage than Mebis’ werejackal healing could ever hope to fix. Several surgeries later, the most he could do with that hand was hold light objects clumsily. He’d never be able to fire a gun or hold a sword in that hand again.

Kess swallowed, her eyes skipping to her reflection in the mirror. She tried not to feel guilty about Mebis’ hand, but she couldn’t help the twinge she felt every time she looked at it. He had been wounded fighting her enemies. He’d been injured helping her. She couldn’t help feeling like it was very much her fault, even if he said otherwise.

Still, it wasn’t like a bum hand slowed Mebis down any. Kess had taken to sparring with the werejackal for the past few months, as a way to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills when in human form. He’d been showing her just how little the loss of a hand meant to him when fighting her; Kess had yet to win a single one of their bouts.

“Ready to call it quits?” His voice was only a little taunting.

Kess debated about saying yes. She really was tired after an hour and a half of being run around the studio by this madman. He’d been trained to fight since birth; Mebis was a Keeper of Divine Order—an elite group of werejackal assassins that served the jackal god, Anubis. She was nowhere near his league when it came to fighting or endurance when in human form, but that didn’t mean she liked to eat mat every five minutes either. And she definitely didn’t want him thinking she couldn’t take another round.

“Let’s go,” she answered, moving into the fighting stance he’d taught her.

He shrugged, completely unconcerned one way or the other, as if this was nothing more taxing than a walk to the mailbox. Kess gritted her teeth. He could at least pretend this was exercise for him.

Instead of waiting for Mebis to make the first move, Kess went on the offensive. She stepped forward, always striking at his legs, trying everything she could think of to keep him off balance. She blocked his punches for the most part, ignoring the few that managed to land. They hurt, but not enough to get her to stop. She’d learned that it was when he brought his legs into play that she got in trouble.

She swung low, attempting a sweep, but Mebis leapt back out of range. Kess let instinct guide her next move; she pushed her body forward, sliding along the mat to pop up close enough to him to attempt it again. This time Kess took out one leg. Mebis dropped to one knee, but managed to twist his body so he slammed his shoulder into her stomach at the same time he spun back up to his feet.

Kess staggered back a few steps, guard still up. Mebis launched into a full speed attack, his legs and good arm flying at her so fast that all she could do was scrunch up to try and protect her more sensitive parts with her arms and elbows. With each blow her anger grew, and with each blow more of her control leached away. She was sweaty and hungry and tired, and she was sick of being beaten on like a sentient heavy bag.

The small changes happened first: her vision grew sharper, her sense of smell amped up, and the pain slowly grew in her hands as they began to change to allow her claws to extend. Kess let the changes happen, willing herself to follow her instinct in this more than usual. She usually kept the leopard half of herself tightly controlled. Maybe now was the time to let some of it free.

Kess sprang forward, surprising Mebis. She threw herself at him, pushing herself to try and match his speed. She saw his bad hand drop a bit from its position at guard, and she swung, claws extended. She didn’t intend to mark him, but it would be nice to let him feel the air rush past his face.

He caught her wrist in his good hand when it was only inches from his eye. His dark eyes met her green-gold, but he didn’t let go of her arm. She was close enough to see the beads of sweat on his forehead and nose.

“Well done,” he said, finally dropping her wrist. “You used your instincts and let go.”

“You’re not mad?” Kess was surprised. She would have thought of it as cheating.

He shrugged again, going over to a chair at the side of the room and getting two towels. He wiped his face. “You made me sweat that time.” Mebis came back and picked up her hand again, which was now returning to normal. “This is what you are. It would be foolish not to take advantage of all of your assets in a fight, especially against a superior opponent.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying you’re superior?” She smiled as she took the spare towel from him.

He inclined his head. He was the superior fighter—there was no way she could ever catch up to him. Still, he was too polite to say it. “I have had years of training at this, Kess. You are doing amazingly well considering how late you are starting.”

Kess looked away, glad that her dark tan hid her blush. His praise was welcome, but it made her feel awkward. She didn’t know what to do with it. They didn’t have a traditional sensei-student relationship, and she didn’t know if Mebis could get in trouble with the Keepers for showing her how to defend herself. Was he breaking any laws or codes by helping her learn how to fight?

Thankfully, Mebis changed the subject. “Have you had any new arrivals lately?”

He was referring to werecreatures that might be new to Miami. Kess’ clan of wereleopards had controlled the territory of Miami and its surrounding areas for decades; it was only in recent months that she’d opened up the territory to other peaceful werefolk. Miami was sort of an experiment to see if different werespecies could live in harmony together. So far, they were requiring werefolk new to Miami to let the council know they were in town.

“Not since the last time we spoke. At least none that have presented themselves, anyway.” Kess dabbed at her face with the towel. She flopped back down on the mat. “I just want to lay here until I stop melting.”

“Wuss.” Mebis sat down next to her. He pulled off his black leather glove, trying to flex his fingers. They merely twitched.

“How’s it feeling?” Kess asked, trying to keep her voice light.

Mebis tried to make a fist. His fingers barely closed halfway. He sighed softly, dropping his hand. “About the same.”

“Any word from your bosses?”

Mebis’ smile was genuine. He wagged his finger at her. “You know I can’t reveal what they tell me.”

Kess grinned. “It was worth a shot.” Mebis had been placed in Miami by the Keepers of Divine Order to observe the situation as it developed and report to them. Kess knew how much was riding on her idea being a success. If the Keepers didn’t think she was doing a good job, or didn’t see the opening of the territory working out, they would remove the problem and rectify the situation. Unfortunately, Kess knew that would mean eliminating her. And her friends.

“Laila says hello,” he said, a slight smile on his face.

Kess frowned, as she always did when she heard Mebis’ sister’s name. “No she doesn’t.” To say Kess and Laila disliked each other was underplaying it quite a bit, but the two of them had reached a mutual respect for each other. It didn’t mean they were friends. Laila would never willingly talk to or send a hello to Kess.

Mebis smiled even wider. “No. No she didn’t.”

Kess flicked her towel at him. “Not funny.” Then she laughed. “Are you coming to our next meeting?”

He nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I do enjoy the way Rafael twitches whenever I walk in the room. He looks like he swallowed a frog.”

“You take pleasure in tormenting him,” Kess observed drily, a slight frown on her face. She liked Rafe, and not just because he’d sided against his mother, Samara, in the fight for Miami. He was a good kid.

Mebis winked at her. “Of course I do. I’m an assassin. I love my work.”

“Rafe is not work,” Kess reminded him, refusing to think about the fact that one day he very well could be.

They all could be.

Chapter Two

Lukas did not know what to expect when he reached Miami. He knew it would be hot and bright and a large city, but that was all. He tried to keep his mind open when scoping out new hunting areas, and Miami was no exception. When he stepped out of the hired car that had ferried him from the airport to his new condominium, he was amazed by how little it resembled his home in Germany.

Zamiel was waiting for him inside the condo. The demon had been stopping by more and more of late, popping in and out of Lukas’ life like a hellish prairie dog. As Lukas’ three year deadline loomed, the demon checked in more and more, wanting to be sure of his asset’s continued health. Either that or he wanted to make sure that Lukas hadn’t found a way to weasel out of their bargain.

Lukas took his jacket off and left it draped on the kitchen counter as he entered. Zamiel stood in front of the floor to ceiling bank of windows that offered a panoramic view of the coastline, his long shadow blocking out the landscape. He turned to Lukas with a small smile.

“So the last hunt will be here.” He inhaled sharply. “It’s a good place.”

Lukas walked over to the window, admiring the view. “It’s acceptable.” He hid a flinch at the demon’s bark of laughter. As his twenty-first birthday—the deal’s expiration date—grew closer, Zamiel’s high spirits only intensified. With each passing day, Lukas wondered if it was all worth it, but he only had to call home and have his father make another excuse not to speak to him—or worse, answer the phone and hang up once he realized who was calling—to be reminded of why he was doing this.

“Why this city?” he asked Zamiel, his eyes still on the push and pull of the ocean outside.

“You said you wanted another big cat to round out your collection. And with time slipping away…,” the demon shrugged, as if that explained everything. Lukas gritted his teeth; Zamiel took a sick pleasure in reminding him of the timetable. “This was the best bet. Plus there are a number of species nearby that might interest you.”

Lukas pulled a chain out from under his shirt. On the end of the chain hung a small stone, black and highly polished. “Not in Miami proper?”

“Some are in outlying towns. Much easier targets—something to get your feet wet, so to speak.”

Lukas did not smile at the demon’s joke. He looked at the stone dangling from the chain. Zamiel had provided this for him at the beginning of their association as a way for Lukas to tell when a werebeast was near. It would warm whenever he came in contact with one. It made finding and tracking his prey that much simpler.