Moonsong

Moonsong

By

Lisa Olsen

Copyright © 2012 Lisa Olsen, all rights reserved.

Cover Image licensed by Depositphotos.com/Philip Proft

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any other format or changed in any way, including the author’s name and title, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real person, company or product names are for literary effect only and used without permission. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Visit the author’s website at
http://www.lisaolsen.net

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my mom for encouraging me to dust this one off and get it published. Thanks to Andrea and Stardust for great feedback which helped me fix the newbie novel problems, and to Randi Pandi for lightning fast beta skills. A special thanks to my husband James, my starlit sky… thanks for helping inspire this love story (even though I got rid of the swordfight at Disneyland…)

P.S. Emily, you are awesome for finishing the proof in one night!

Chapter One

West.
“Just keep driving west ‘til you hit water. I’m serious Millie, don’t slow down for more than a pit stop ‘til you get there, or they’ll find you… and they’ll never stop coming...”
Amelia could still hear Luc’s voice, low and urgent in the darkness as he practically pulled her from bed in the dead of night. It took everything she had to keep her concentration on the road and away from the inevitable path it took when she thought back to… how long had it been? Somehow it felt so much longer than the night before. Millie shook herself out of the reverie; she’d do her damnedest to follow Luc’s advice, it was the least she could do after his sacrifice. Her jeep pointed resolutely west, eating up the miles as she went as fast as she dared, given her lack of sleep.

Nearly twenty hours she’d been on the road, stopping only to fill up the little red jeep and her stomach with gas station food. Long past was the time for coffee; Amelia had moved on to energy shot drinks, desperate to keep alert long enough to reach the elusive sanctuary with the grandmother she’d never met.
Though how a grandmother could keep her safe from those animals…

Routinely checking the rearview mirror for signs of pursuit, Amelia spared a moment to wonder how she’d actually spot a tail, since her experience was strictly limited to old reruns of Charlie’s Angels. Catching sight of her dark eyes in the mirror, they blinked back at her, red rimmed and puffy from crying. Well, that was to be expected when she’d spent most of the past twenty-four hours blubbering like a little girl. It wasn’t like she normally cried at the drop of a hat; Millie hated showing any weakness in front of others, but if there ever was a good reason to cry… A little surprised she even had tears left, she looked away quickly as they misted over again, focusing on the road.

After a well meaning convenience store clerk offered to call the cops for her if she needed help, she had to take a few minutes to straighten her appearance as best she could in the dingy bathroom. Amelia pulled fingers through wildly tangled hair that normally hung down her back in long chestnut waves. A quick wash of the face made her pale skin less blotchy from crying, and a fevered bit of scrubbing made the few spatters of blood on her shirt look more like old barbecue sauce, though she was keenly aware they were not. If it was unusual for a girl to be out on the road by herself in the middle of the night without a coat or socks, Millie tried to carry it off with deliberate casualness, thankful for the mild weather.

But her eyes… no amount of cool water or cold compresses could remove the haunted look from eyes that had seen more horrors in the past twenty-four hours than anyone had a right to bear.

West… she had to keep going west and find her grandmother in a place called Cutter’s Folly; that was all she could focus on for the moment. Once she got there, well, then she’d have to worry about how to find the woman she’d never laid eyes on. Then she could fall apart and really grieve.

* * *

The wide open expanses of the desert gradually gave way to the mountainous, tree covered terrain once she hit California. Though she had to admit it was pretty in a lush sort of way, Amelia found herself a little wary at being so surrounded. Especially knowing there were others out there tracking her, if Luc was to be believed.

The closer she got to Cutter’s Folly, she found herself more and more on edge; the lack of sleep and energy drinks making her jump at shadows both real and imagined. It was only by a stroke of luck she managed to see the exit sign that led to Cutter’s Folly. Whether by neglect or design, an ancient pine tree all but obscured the sign; the exit masked by a cover of undergrowth, almost as though the forest had reclaimed the road for itself.

Tired as she was, Amelia almost missed it, but for the sudden break in the cloud cover and the emergence of the moon, pale and luminous, reflecting the visible corner of the sign. Slamming on the brakes, Amelia guided the sturdy little jeep onto the narrow road. “Not at all creepy…” she murmured to herself as the canopy of surrounding woods instantly swallowed the moon’s pale light.

On and on the twisting road brought her deeper into the pass through the mountains. While the road itself was in good shape, it was slow going with all the leaves and branches obscuring the pavement, straining her already frayed senses. Just about to debate turning back and waiting for morning, the trees parted to give her a view of the town glistening like a hidden jewel in the valley below. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of lights and civilization, Millie gave a shuddering laugh at herself for being so jumpy.

The trees grew less dense as she neared the little town, and Amelia found the oppressive gloom of the forest fading. Of course, that left plenty of room for more mundane worries. Other than her grandmother’s first name, she had no idea whatsoever how to find the woman. No idea what she looked like, or even if she was still alive except for the absolute certainty in her brother’s voice. How hard could it be to find a woman in a town that size? Especially one where she’d lived all her life?

Apparently harder than she’d thought.

At eight p.m. most of the shops lining the main street were dark or locked up tight, as was the gas station. Not that Tres Cruces, New Mexico had been a thriving metropolis; at least they had their share of twenty-four hour gas stations and mini marts, and even a decent bar or two. There were people out strolling on foot, but Millie was leery of approaching total strangers on the street to ask after her grandmother with Luc’s warning still ringing in her ears.

As she continued to the end of the main thoroughfare, the only place that proved to be a Mecca for the townspeople was a pub called The Muddy Rudder, decorated in a fisherman’s motif. Muted strains of the Grateful Dead punctuated by rowdy laughter drifted on the night breeze as she neared the heavy, wooden door, pulling on it with a soft groan. The moment she stepped into the bar, conversation died as all eyes swung towards her.
Sure a girl likes to be looked at, but this was ridiculous…

Resisting the urge to scowl at the nosiest patrons, Amelia pasted on a tight lipped smile as she made her way to the bar, hoping some of the interest would fade in a minute or two. A thick lipped bartender shuffled over, openly gaping at her as he swabbed the bar with a rag that had seen better days. “Help you, Miss?”

“Ah yes, cup of coffee please?” Amelia gave him a polite smile, noting with dismay that there were no Visa or MasterCard logos anywhere by the ancient cash register. There went more of her precious cash. She could only hope she’d have better luck at the local motel or she’d be sleeping in the back of her jeep.

Hot cider. She hadn’t had hot cider in years. “Sure, that sounds fine,” she nodded, letting him off the hook, and he shuffled off to fetch her drink.

Conversation started up again in muted tones, and though not everyone stared so much at her anymore, there were still an inordinate amount of glances in her direction. Refusing to let them cow her, she stared back brazenly at anyone she caught looking. The cider delivered a minute later; Millie savored the warmth of the mug and the spices that tickled her nose. Closing her eyes to the outside world, she allowed herself a moment of liquid comfort.

Feeling decidedly warmer and rapidly losing her inhibitions at talking to complete strangers, Amelia decided to get down to business. “Excuse me, Sir?” she called out to the bartender again. “I wonder if you can help me find somebody here in town.”

The bartender’s bushy brows rose a fraction as he set down the carafe. “Who are you looking for?”

“My grandmother Adele, she’s ah… in her early sixties… I think…” Amelia frowned. She had no idea how old the woman actually was or what she looked like. The bartender reverted back to staring again, and she began to wonder if he was a little slow between the ears. “She ah… she had a son named Remy but he moved away before I was born… did I say something wrong?” The furrow across her brow deepened as the bartender backed away from her, eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder. “Now what?” she muttered.

“You’ll have to forgive Hugo; he doesn’t get to talk to pretty girls very often. He’s a bit shy,” a low voice offered at her ear.

Startled by the close proximity, Amelia flinched, sloshing a bit of the hot cider onto her lap. With a hiss, she grabbed a cocktail napkin to swab up the mess. “That’s a really good trick, sending a girl to the burn unit. Do you get a lot of dates this way?” she scowled instinctively before her eyes lifted.

To say he was good looking would be an understatement, with his long, lean form and broad shoulders. A dark, intense gaze came from beneath sun-streaked brown hair that reached almost his chin in a dangerous, unkempt look that probably took him the better part of an hour to cultivate. The perfect tilt of his lips proved he was well aware of the whole package he projected; almost predatory in nature. Millie found that even knowing his type didn’t make her immune to the power of his smile.

“To be fair most girls are drinking something cool, not hot. So… I can’t say I’ve been disappointed in the number of tops removed at a good accidental spill,” he smirked. “But I’m sorry if you were hurt.”

“Yeah well, I’m not stripping down to my panties, so…” she smirked back, tossing the wadded napkin onto the bar. “I’m alright; the cider probably smells better than I do anyway.”

“For the record, I happen to think you smell… delicious,” his grin turned wolfish, cementing her image of him as a predator. “Though by the look of things, it’s not your first food related casualty of the day.” He reached out to smooth his finger over the faint brown stain on the edge of her shirt, brows drawing together into a single dark line. “At least this one was without bloodshed.”

“How did you know it was blood?” Now it was time for her brows to rise in confusion and surprise. Ignoring her question, he continued to stare at the stains.

“It’s not your blood is it?”

“No… it’s not.” Millie dropped her gaze, not able to bring herself to offer more details to a total stranger in a bar. The hot cider had muted her pain for a few minutes, but the sight of Luc’s blood spattered on her shirt brought it all back in vivid detail. With an effort, she pushed it back into the private space in her heart to keep for later when she was alone. “Look, I can respect the whole ‘on the make’ thing you’ve got going on, but it’s really not a good time for me right now, okay? I’m looking for my grandmother. Her name is Adele, and she lives here in Cutter’s Folly. Do you happen to know who and where she is?” Her voice raw with emotion, Amelia pleaded with him to drop the smarmy pick up lines for the time being and recognize that she needed a little help. Thankfully, he seemed to grasp her need and nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry, Amelie; yes, I can take you to your grandmother. She’s…”

The door opened, and all eyes were riveted to the slight figure who stood there, commanding all with her steely gaze; carriage stiff and regal as though they were her subjects. If the room had fallen silent at Millie’s earlier entrance, it was nothing compared to the way everyone went perfectly still, as if not wanting to draw her attention.
What was it with the town?