Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) (15 page)

Ethan chuckled, a dark, abrupt sound. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I hear you have some very motivated hunters here. But thanks for the suggestion.”

Owen’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “It’s going to be crowded. There are a couple hotels about sixty-five miles away. I wouldn’t be offended if you decided to stay elsewhere.” He suggested in a nice tone that didn’t match the looming glare he gave Ethan.

Ethan was about to respond with something that I’m sure was impolite, if not plain outright cruel, when Josh spoke up. “We’ll make do. The accommodations here will be just fine,” he interjected, dividing his attention between Owen and Ethan. His tone gently persuaded them to play nice. “Thank you for offering your home so that we can stay close to our destination,” Josh stated courteously.

Owen flashed a smile. “I am going to sleep in my office. Skylar, you will take my room, and there are two spare rooms. You guys sort out who gets the floor,” he said, leading us to the rooms.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you. You stay in your room. I will sleep on the sofa,” I offered.

“I will have no such thing. That not the way a Southerner treats his guest, especially a beautiful woman such as yourself,” he stated in that slow rhythmic drawl that made me wonder how much of it was real. Ethan muttered a curse under his breath, and a gratified smile covered Owens’s face. He showed them to the spare rooms first then me to his room.

“Wow!” I breathed out in complete awe as I entered the room. My attention was captured by the mural of a lion walking out of the tall, thick grass. The realism of the picture was uncanny and strangely intriguing—captivating. Unlike the other rooms, which were painted a neutral khaki, this room was colored in deep greens and light browns, drawing you into the feeling of being in a savannah where the lion could openly roam.

“Were-lion I presume,” I stated, twisting to look at him. He was staring at the wall as though he were seeing it for the first time as well.

“It’s my best work,” he admitted.

“It is absolutely beautiful.” Stepping closer, I touched it. My fingers traced along the outline of the lion’s eyes. “This isn’t you in the painting,” I informed him.

He looked surprised. “No, it’s a true animal. How did you know?” I could feel his eyes on me as I looked at the mural.

“I just knew,” I shrugged. The lion in the picture looked content as though he recently had mated or finished a kill. Owen’s eyes didn’t possess the same level of satisfaction. He was yearning for something. His eyes were distant and longing. His face puckered in dissatisfaction when he wasn’t pretending to be happy.

“You’re an artist?”

“An artist at heart and an accountant by trade,” he admitted in a mellow voice. I should have known he held some auxiliary position in the pack. The way he greeted and interacted with Ethan indicated that they held the same pack position. Within the various packs, lower ranked members, showed some form of deference to the higher ranking. They wouldn’t make eye contact for more than a few seconds and they bowed their head slightly upon greeting. It wasn’t in the same manner one would greet a member of the royal family, but it wasn’t far off. It was one of the more unpleasant things I noticed of pack life. The exceptions to that rule were those who held auxiliary positions, such as: pack physician, financial consultant, attorney and educator.

Ethan stood silently at the doorway, Josh not too far behind. Owen turned to face Ethan. “Is there something you need?” he asked in an icy tone.

“Interesting picture. You seem to have a lot of free time since you transferred from our pack,” Ethan stated in a level voice.

“You’ll be surprised how much you can accomplish when you’re not dealing with political BS and trivial pack responsibilities,” he responded, matching Ethan’s tone with unassuming hostility.

“Yes, it can be burdensome being the strongest pack in the country. It’s not a responsibility that just anyone can handle.” Ethan dropped all pretenses of nicety.

That rattled Owen, and he was having a difficult time hiding it. His fists balled tight as he stepped toward Ethan. Josh moved between them quickly. “It’s been a long day for all of us. We should get some sleep. Ethan, you have to meet Joan’s contact tomorrow and it’s a pretty long drive. We have a ferry to catch. It’s a good idea that we get some shut-eye. Now,” he suggested in a firm, calm voice.

Josh’s intervention gave Owen time to calm down and an obstacle that kept Ethan from getting to Owen. But the hostility between them was so thick it was palpable.

Ethan backed out of the room but stopped short. “Skylar, I’m right next door if you need anything.”

Why the hell did I care? I was more likely to call Steven, Josh or maybe even Owen before I called him.

“Okay,” I stated softly, wishing they both would leave and do their primitive posturing elsewhere.

Owen snorted, “She’s just as safe here as she would be in the retreat home in Illinois,” he stated bitterly.

“I just wanted her to know I was close. After all, that is my job as the Beta,” Ethan stated sharply before he walked out of the room.

Both Owen and I stared at Ethan’s back as he left. I looked at Owen and was about to ask if he had challenged Ethan for his position and lost, but decided against it. If I were right, I am sure it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.

“Is there anything you need before you retire,” he asked, his Southern charm turned on to extra high. I shook my head. He smiled and said, “Have a good night.” But he didn’t move. Instead, he stood gawking at me with a weird look on his face. It made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t know how to politely ask him to leave
hi
s room.

“Sleep well,” he finally whispered before he walked out of the room.

I took out the t-shirt and sweats that I had brought to sleep in when Owen knocked. Opening the door slowly, he poked his head in cautiously. “I hope this isn’t too forward but I would like to photograph you,” he stated cautiously. “I paint from photos. I think you would be perfect for my next project.”

The camera was in his hand; so, declining wasn’t really an option.

“I look terrible. I’ve been traveling for hours, my hair’s a mess and I haven’t had a good night sleep in days,” I pleaded, hoping to discourage him.

“I don’t want it for the aesthetics … I could hire a model for that. There’s something about you that I hope to capture. Please,” he persisted.

I nodded once and stood in the most natural pose I could manage.

“Don’t pose. Just stand there,” he instructed as he adjusted the lens. “Now, say
death
.” I flinched, wondering if I heard him correctly. He smiled as he watched my reaction, taking several shots.

“Did I make you uneasy?” he asked as he continued to snap shots.

“No … no, I’m fine. It was just odd,” I admitted. Odd being an understatement.

“That word seems to bring out so much more in people: hate, sorrow, introspection, anger.

He continued snapping pictures and didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. I took several sidesteps, moving out of his line of sight.

“I think you have enough pictures,” I said, making an attempt to sound both firm and polite. I wasn’t sure if I quite pulled it off, but he stopped abruptly and gave me a forced smile.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he admitted, raising the camera slightly and taking another picture.

“Yes, they are,” I heard Josh say as he leaned against the doorframe. I looked up, but Owen didn’t move from his position or acknowledge Josh’s presence. “We have to leave tomorrow at six,” he informed me. Josh smiled when I gave him an appreciative look for offering a viable interruption to this weirdness.

I nodded, “I really should get some sleep,” I stated politely to Owen, who still seemed to be oddly fascinated with me. It wasn’t a physical attraction—I was sure of that. It was an odd form of curiosity that left me baffled. “Good night,” I said firmly.

His lips tightened as he worked at a smile. “Night,” he whispered before he left the room.

I closed the door firmly behind him then leaned against it listening until I heard his footsteps down the hall.

Josh, Steven and I boarded an empty ferry that would take us from the mainland to a small island nearby. It was fall in the Midwest and it was getting cold; too bad no one let the people below the Mason Dixon line know. I wore a small jacket over a thin shirt, something unthought-of during late fall. I finally asked where we were going as we sailed across the murky river to the unknown small island. We inched further from the beauty: large magnolia trees, blossoming flowers and trees that bore the very best thing about Georgia—peaches.

“Sapelo Island,” said Josh. That didn’t tell me much, especially since I was expecting us to stay on the mainland, preferably Atlanta. I wondered if sources ever lived in large cities or would we always be traveling off somewhere to a land where man was either forgotten or barely acknowledged. “And who are we meeting?”

“A dream guide. When I have my visions, I can only see you, Demetrius and the seethe. So many pieces are missing, and if he’s as good as rumored, he will help me put them together.”

Josh seemed more than hopeful; there was a sense of desperation as if this might be his final hope. He wore it so casually, displaying a level of confidence under pressure that made me a little envious.

The ferry docked at this little island, located on the far southern end of Georgia. It was a beautiful piece of land that at one time served as a plantation. Despite its distasteful history, it maintained its historic simplicity and charm with the help of the government and the locals. The island population consisted of less than a hundred. The ferry was more like a time machine, taking you back to an era of small towns, nature and pre-industrialization. It was nature in its most simplistic and basic form.

Instead of a grocery store chain, they had a neighborhood market. There were two small churches adjacent to each other that previously were segregated but now were divided by denomination. A small gas station was within walking distance from the library, which was run by the locals on a volunteer basis. I didn’t see a tower for cable, and both Josh and Steven seemed put off by the fact that they didn’t have cellphone service.

We treaded through the marshland as bugs had dinner at our expense. We eventually came to a small blue house located in the middle of the woods. Surrounded by trees and plants, there wasn’t another house for miles.

Josh listened at the door for a moment then knocked. He waited for several more minutes and knocked again when no one answered. Someone was home; I could hear movement. We walked around the house, and sitting on the porch, was an elderly man. Deep creases from age and years of sun exposure ran along his creamy mocha forehead. He acknowledged our presence with a frown. A pair of mix-matched eyes, one deep gray and the other cloudy topaz, did an excellent job of making us feel unwelcomed.

When he stood up, his tall ragged appearance was intimidating—well to me anyway, Steven and Josh seemed unaffected. “Thomas, I am Josh and these are my associates. I need your help,” Josh stated directly.

Thomas looked at Josh intensely but made no effort to acknowledge Steven or me.

“I apologize for just showing up without calling. However, I had no way of contacting you. Based on your reputation, you are someone I need to talk to,” Josh stated with a small overtly friendly smile. His charms were wasted on Thomas, who continued to look perturbed by his presence.