Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

              Layla kept her head low, as the Were scanning the street. She was thinner than she remembered and the wind, which was blowing away from her, blew the blonde’s hair about her face, partially obscuring her features, but her green eyes shone with intensity. Layla pulled in a deep breath; smelling Suzette. She waited and watched as the blonde stopped and shook her head as if answering an unspoken question and then turned back to continue her journey. 

              Grabbing her phone from her back pocket, she keyed in her unlock code intent on calling Martin and then thought better of it. Suzette could be listening. Even from this distance, if she was trying, Suzette would be able to overhear her conversation, but she couldn’t text, walk and remain out of sight. Uncertain what to do, she decided to wait until she was in a better hiding place before texting Martin and Brett, until then, she would follow.

              The blonde Were glanced behind her again and Layla ducked behind the wall of an office building. She held her breath and waited a few seconds before peeking around the corner and spied the blonde Were walking into a coffee shop. Hurriedly trailing the other woman, she slid into a chair near an outside table and picked up a newspaper discarded by a customer as a waitress walked up to her. 

              “What can I get you?” 

              Cursing under her breath, she willed the waitress to move as she blocked her view of Suzette  “Just water for now,” she answered, trying to disguise her voice, even as she acknowledged that Suzette could simply smell her. “I have someone else joining me.”

              The waitress nodded and moved to get the water and some menus while Layla looked around anxiously. Suzette was gone. Her wolf rose in frustration and she closed her eyes to calm herself. She finally had a lead on the Were who was trying to kill her and managed to let her get away. Shit. She glared at the waitress and jogged across the street back towards the college, the hair rising on her nape as someone walked up behind her. 

              “Hello, Layla.”

              She whirled around.

              “You wanted to say something to me?” The blonde moved confidently towards her.

              Layla held her ground, recognizing the girl from Suzette’s compound. “You wouldn’t know where Suzette is, would you?” she asked with false bravado. 

              The girl chuckled and stared at her nails. “You know, I really don’t know where my cousin is. However, I don’t think I would tell you even if I did.” She grinned up at Layla, displaying her slightly elongated teeth. 

              The familiar throbbing reverberated through Layla’s head. Her animal wanted to respond to the challenge being issued, but she reined it in; she needed to keep a clear head.  She looked at the girl and grinned. “Nice, did your daddy pay for those?” She taunted.

              The other girl bristled. “Do you know who I am? I could gut you—.”

              “Yeah, yeah,” Layla interrupted. “What is up with you and your cousin? All these threats about what you could do, yet if I remember correctly, while I was kicking Suzette’s ass, you were nowhere to be seen. I guess running and hiding is another family trait.”

              “You bitch! You better watch your back. You will be sorry.”

              “Uh huh,” Layla said as she turned away already losing interest in the vague threats being issued. She hoped the girl wasn’t stupid enough to attack her in broad daylight, but she kept an eye on her anyway, the girl’s glare almost burning her back until she rounded the corner that took her back to the college.

              Putting aside her thoughts of Suzette, Layla remembered the task she still had to accomplish. She needed to talk to her professors to finalize her independent research study. Walking back to the Social Science office areas, she looked up her first two professors. 

              They both agreed that an independent research study was her best option and she was right on about the length. One professor wanted a forty page paper, the other wanted sixty. Her mentoring professor was even more accommodating, agreeing to let her test out the next day. 

              The last professor on her list was her Statistics professor and the bad blood between them made her antsy. The first time she had truly transformed was because of him. He had pissed her off so much with his posturing and rigidity, her wolf had burst free. 

              She stood outside his door and waited as he finished up with another student, his manner curt and unyielding. As she sat down to wait, she inadvertently allowed bits and pieces of the conversation to drift into her heightened ears.               

              “Professor, I need to pass this course. This is my last chance. If I don’t graduate, I lose out on my dream job. I am honestly willing to do anything and I mean anything, to pass.”                Layla’s ears perked up, her brows furrowed at what sounded like a proposition, her concentration now on the conversation in the room. 

              “Brittany, well…we both know that you need to pass this course. The only thing I could think of is, well, let’s just say you have to have an open mind.”

              The old guy sounded downright lecherous. Layla waited for him to continue, hoping against hope that this was something she would be able to use to her advantage. 

              “I do have after-hours study sessions. Let’s say we meet here, in my office, tonight at ten o’clock?”

              She resisted the urge to gag as she listened to the voice that belonged to ‘Brittany’ accept the invite.  Now she was armed with more ammunition. Nasty old creep, she thought as the door opened and a super skinny, preppy, brunette stepped out. Definitely not what she was expecting. 

              Her professor looked up and frowned when she knocked on the door and entered, his ever present sneer adorning his face.

              “Ms. Donovan. Glad you could grace me with your presence and in my office no less.” 

              Ignoring his sarcasm, she sat in the chair across from his desk. “Well, I thought it was time that I came by to see you.” She leaned back, completely at ease, confident after her eavesdropping.

              He frowned at her again and narrowed his eyes. “So, what can I help you with?” he asked curtly, “I am rather busy and as you can see, you are outside of my office hours.”

              Layla smiled. “I won’t take too much of your time.” She opened her purse, leisurely pulling out the independent research study paper agreement forms and handed them to him.

              “What’s this?” He turned the forms over in his hands.

              “Well, Academic Advising told me to ask you if I could do an independent research study to complete this course. It would also cover both the mid-term and final.” She waited for his response.

              His smile was slow and malevolent as he looked at her. “Unfortunately, Ms. Donovan, you do not qualify for the perks of an independent research study. According to school policy, the student must have an A, or a medical or economic necessity.” 

              He looked over at her, his gaze lingering overly long at her breasts. “Seeing as how you do not have an A in the class and it seems as if you are fine health-wise and we both know that you can simply get a grant to cover your costs, I’m afraid I have to say no.”

              Layla took the papers he handed back and placed them into her purse with an exaggerated sigh. “Really, and I thought you would be able to help me.” She pulled out her phone and looked at it, pretending to read a text and ignored him when he sighed loudly.

              “Ms. Donovan, if you could quit wasting my time, I really have to leave.”

              She smiled at him sweetly. “Sorry, that was my best friend Brittany. She told me to ask about the after-hours study sessions?” Layla cocked her head. “After-hours study sessions? Really? That would be amazing!”

              His face turned red.

              “And I do have a note from my psychiatrist. It seems that since my neighbor was one of the people involved in that incident on campus last month, I really do have a medical necessity.”

              Pulling the papers out again, she put them on the desk in front of her. “Are you sure you can’t sign them, because I would hate to have to tell the Director of Academic Advising that I have to do the after-hours office hours instead.” She paused and held her finger to her chin thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if he would allow me to do that, but I can talk to Brittany later to see how it went as soon as she gets back tonight.”

              Before she could say anything else, he grabbed the papers and a pen and quickly signed the forms without even reading them.

              “Oh, is there a word limit? Any particular topic?”

              He shook his head wildly as he stuffed papers into his briefcase haphazardly. “I don’t care what your topic is and…I-I don’t know…thirty pages should be fine!”

              Layla smiled again. “Thirty pages? That’s kinda harsh, don’t you think? Maybe I should simply do the after-hours study sessions after all?”

              “NO!” the man shouted and then sobered. “I mean, no. Use your discretion. About twenty pages, then. Just get it to me before the Winter break and you’ll be fine.” He turned to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

              Layla nodded. “I understand.” She held up a hand as he was about to dash out of the room. “Can you put that in writing, please?” she asked. “The part about twenty pages, due before Winter break and on any topic?” 

              She grinned wickedly as he scribbled the information down on her form, signed it again and threw the pen on the desk, racing out before she could say thanks.

*

              Layla parked Brett’s car in the garage and walked to the house.  It was eerily quiet. Martin’s truck was gone and so was her Aunt’s car, which meant that she was alone for the moment. She bounced up the stairs and flung her purse onto the couch. 

              Now that she had her three independent research study papers, she could complete her degree without having to compromise anyone else. All she needed was a computer and the internet. She could stay at home, work at her leisure and get her stuff done. 

              As much as he’d helped her, the Academic Director was a bit condescending when she had returned with all the paperwork.

              “See? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

              No, she thought, all I had to do was overhear him planning to fuck a student. And blackmail him a little. She wisely held her tongue as the paperwork was filed.

              Now, alone and decidedly more relaxed, she sat back on the couch, turned on the TV and aimlessly watched the end of a popular comedy show. She laughed at the antics of the grandmother and her dislike of her daughter-in-law before glancing at her phone.  It was almost six.  She texted Brett.

              Hey, where r u? She focused back on the TV as she waited for his reply. 

              “…so far authorities are not saying that the four women are linked, but the resemblance to one another is staggering. Sources say that it is not like the wild animal that attacked and killed three people last month near Gulfport College. These women all had their throats cuts and they literally bled to death.”

              Layla watched the reporter, horror on her face. The channel flashed the picture of four women smiling into the camera and spoke a little about each woman. They were from different walks of life; two were college students, one a lawyer and the fourth, a teacher. Different ages, different body types.  There was only one thing linking the four women and Layla shuddered as she stared at their pictures. 

              Each woman looked like a carbon copy of her.

~*~

Chapter 3

              Within minutes of seeing the news report, Martin sent her a cryptic message containing directions to meet him. She in turn sent Brett another text and left his car in the garage, not wanting to attract attention with the flashy vehicle. Especially given where she was headed.  Walking the mile or so to the nearest bus station, she sat down and reread the message from Martin.

              Go to the place where we first met. It’s important. Tell no one where you are going. 

              The place they had first met. Anyone else might interpret it as the Tampa Museum where Martin had first told her about her powers, but Layla recalled in vivid detail the very first time she’d truly met him; when she was ten and her mom was killed. 

              Her old house was still there, abandoned after all these years, having been sold many times over, each family hoping to start fresh and each abandoning the place as if it was cursed. So, it sat there, empty and forgotten.

              The bus arrived, moving along Main Street before it turned off into the bus depot. She hurried on and sat in a far corner. A man got on after her, his baggy clothes dingy and grimy, his beard filled with filth. He moved towards her, sitting far too closely and the hair on her nape stood on end. 

              On a bus mostly empty, he sat only one seat away and she frowned at the discomfort she felt. Not in the mood for company, she got up and moved towards the back and was dismayed when he moved as well and sat right across from her, his back to the bus driver. 

              She studied him before she looked around. He was definitely not a Were, just creepy.  There were few other people on the bus; an older woman facing the driver, her eyes closed as she leaned against the window, a teenager with his cellphone out and ear buds in listening to music and a young couple busy whispering and giggling as they indulged in a round of heavy petting and kissing. No one paid any attention to her or the man with her.

              He grinned then as if understanding her predicament; his teeth yellowed and rotting as he rubbed his hand along the front of his crotch. Her lip curled in disgust and he grinned again, opening his legs wider to get better access. His tongue was thick and wet as he licked his lips and he stared at her, almost daring her to do something before he began to unzip his pants, his hand reaching into the dirty material. 

              Eyes narrowed, she stared at him as he continued to grin and then pulled her hoodie over her head, carefully concealing her face from the other occupants. She grinned wickedly, mouth wide as she allowed her fangs to descend.

              The man stopped moving and peered at her, his mouth gaped open in surprised fear. 

              She raised a hand in a silent wave, this time allowing her fingers to transform slightly.  Her nails grew extremely long as her hands became covered in fur. Her fangs started to protrude from her mouth and the man slowly moved his hand away from his crotch.

              “Boo!” 

              Layla laughed as he jumped before racing to the front of the bus, yelling at the driver to stop. She quickly changed back as the bus slowed and the man raced away down the street. The bus driver looked back at her and she smiled at him and shrugged. 

              When the bus finally reached her destination, she pulled on the cord signaling her stop.  Her mind was ill at ease as she thought about the killings. It had to be a message for her. There was no way this was all coincidence. Four women killed the exact way that Wattan had been killed? Four women who resembled her. It had to be a warning. But from whom? Kuruk or Suzette? Or someone else waiting in the wings? 

              The bus pulled away and she moved towards the government assistance homes in the older section of town. As she walked past a rundown apartment complex; the second floor landing littered with toys, she thought of her old friends. Jared, the boy she had the biggest crush on when she was ten, her friends at school, even her teachers.  Many of them had probably moved away by now, especially after her mom’s horrific death. 

              Cameras adorned the outside of the buildings as she turned into the housing area where she and her mom had lived. The homes were painted grotesque colors and contrasted horribly with the area. Smells assaulted her sensitive nostrils, reminding her of her childhood and the people who had lived here for years; jerk chicken from one of the Caribbean neighbors, some sort of curry from another apartment, even the smell of fresh laundry from the Laundromat on the corner. 

              She moved up the walkway that led to her old house and recalled the day her mother had bought the cheap building; they’d both been so proud. To live the American dream and own their home was an accomplishment her mother had been so happy to achieve.

              Layla chuckled at the memory and closed her eyes as images from years before assaulted her. Now, the door hung from the jamb and broken glass littered the front. Before she could climb the few stairs and move to the door, Martin materialized from behind the building. 

              “Over here.”

              Carefully checking behind her, she walked over to him. “What’s going on?”

              He gestured to his truck. “I’m glad you left Brett’s car behind,” he said, moving toward the vehicle, Layla in tow. “Too flashy around here.”

              She nodded. “Yeah, I took the bus.” She opened the door and sat inside the warm cab.  “What is going on, Martin? Did you see the news?”

              Sighing, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “A friend of mine who works down at the morgue told me about it last week when the first body was brought it. I didn’t want you to worry about it because you had other things on your mind.”

              Layla stared at him in shock. “You knew about this for a week!” 

              He gave her a hard look. “It was two bodies who resembled each other. My friend only told me about it because he thought it might be a serial killer and he wanted my advice. Even when I saw the bodies, there was no way to really make any connections. Not until now.”

              She steamed inside, pissed that he had chosen to keep that information from her, but he was right. Still, it irked her that he had knowingly done it. Regardless of what else was going on in her life, it would have been good to at least know…to have some idea that someone was killing her clones. 

              “So there is a connection now?”

              Martin nodded. 

              “The sliced throats?” Layla guessed.

              “They all look like you and they were all killed the same way Wattan was. After the trial before the Council, it has to be someone connected to the Weres, connected to Wattan.”

              “I thought so too,” Layla agreed. “It has to be either Kuruk or Suzette.”

              “Exactly.” Martin gave her an admiring look. “Good for figuring that out.”

              Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “What good does it do me? I’ve figured out it’s possibly one of two people. We still don’t know where Suzette is and we can’t do anything about Kuruk.” 

              She snapped her fingers as a memory from that afternoon came into her head. “Which reminds me, I saw Suzette’s cousin today.”

              Martin turned to look at her in alarm.  “What?”
              “Suzette’s cousin.” She tried to picture the girl in her head. “Thin, blonde, bitchy.  Just like Suzette. She was there at the house when we went to rescue Brett.”

              He frowned, his eyes a mask of concern. “Where did you see her?”

              “She passed right near my school. I was taking care of a few things and she just walked by.” Layla shrugged. “So I followed her.”

              “Did you see where she went?”

              She shook her head. “No, she caught me before I could figure out where she was going.” 

              Martin was thoughtful as he looked out into the twilight. “Do you think she tracked you and was actually looking for you?”

              That hadn’t occurred to her. It didn’t make sense, though. The girl had seemed pretty upset that Layla had followed her.

              “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “She seemed really pissed off that I saw her. My gut says she was not looking for me.”

              “Your gut instinct has helped you before. If you truly feel as if you were not her primary target, I will agree with you. Now, we have to figure out why she was near your school. We need to know if she knows Suzette’s hiding place or scouting for new Layla lookalikes?”

              He started the truck and eased out of the parking spot. 

              “Where are we going now?” Layla asked. 

              Martin gave her a sideways glance. “We’re headed to the police station. There is a warrant out for your arrest. Again.”

*

              The officer shuffled the stack of papers in front of him and Layla gripped her hoodie more securely in her lap. She refused to put it on, even though the room was freezing.

              “Ms. Donovan, you are becoming a regular to our establishment. Twenty nine years of nothing, now three appearances in less than one month. Makes one suspicious.”

              Layla glared at the obnoxious detective sitting across from her. She and Martin had walked into the police station and asked to speak with his friend who worked at this particular precinct. Unfortunately, Officer I’m-a-Jackass got to her first.

              “Wow. You are suspicious of me because women who look like me are being killed.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m doing, killing off the competition.”

              He leaned forward, a warning glint in his eyes. “Watch your tone, young lady. You are in enough trouble as it is.”

              She frowned. “How could I be in any trouble? I was not anywhere near those woman, I have no clue who they are and I have alibis.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You could threaten me all you want, but I am not an idiot. I know what I did and I know my rights. And if you insist on treating me like a criminal, I will simply have to get a lawyer.”

              “Innocent people don’t get lawyers,” he said with a smirk.

              Layla looked him unwaveringly. “Stupid people don’t get lawyers.”

              The door banged open and a man who looked surprisingly similar to Martin walked through. 

              “Stop harassing my CI.”

              The officer straightened and back off. “Sir?  Your CI?” He looked back at Layla. “She doesn’t look like a confidential informant.”
              “That’s the point.” The new guy plunked a folder down on the table as he waited for the idiot to leave. 

Layla barely resisted the urge to smile as the other officer walked out with an exaggerated swagger.

              The new officer rolled his eyes at his colleague’s attempt at intimidation. “Water?” 

              She shook her head.

              He shrugged. “Martin asked me to give you a message; he’ll meet you back here in about an hour. That’ll give us plenty of time to get acquainted.” The folder he held in his hands had the word ‘confidential’ written across it in big, bold letters as he opened it.

              “Alright Ms. Donovan. It seems you were arrested last month for theft, but then the charges were dropped when your alibi checked out.” He flipped a page. “It also seems we had you in here to give us insight into the grisly murders last month at the college. And now we need to talk to you about these four murdered women.”

              He pulled a stack of photos out of the folder and spread them over the table. “Do you recognize any of these women?”

              Layla looked at the photos. They were the same ones that were shown on the news earlier. She shook her head. “No. Sorry.” 

              The Detective sighed. “Do you know of any reason someone might be trying to get back at you? An angry ex-boyfriend mixed up in something he shouldn’t be, stuff like that.”

              She shook her head again. Just like last time, she was not about to confess about a world of werewolves and other monsters who went bump in the night.

              Closing the folder, he gave her a long look. “Look, I don’t know what is going on yet, but it seems as if this is all centering on you. Someone framed you, but we never caught them. Your neighbors were killed and even though we trapped a few dogs and a cougar, my gut is telling me we didn’t catch the animal that killed those people. Now we have a serial killer on the loose targeting women who look like you. The FBI is arriving tomorrow and many women are scared they could be next.”

              She remained mute. This is what she had feared all along. That more innocent people would get caught in the middle of this war. That more innocent people would die.  It wasn’t enough that Suzette had killed her former boss, her neighbor and his girlfriend, now complete strangers, only connected to her by random gene variation, were dying.  She knew she should say something, she wanted to say something, but the police couldn’t handle Were business.  They could barely handle their business.