Shepherd's Moon (12 page)

The stake, if I could even find it, would have to wait until the choppers were out of range. That would be a little too obvious. My gun, however, resumed its position at his temple.

A good fight always gets my adrenaline flowing and this was no different. I was too enraged to even read him his rights. Instead, I rested my full weight on the creature and flipped the choppers off with my free hand.

Richard would be pissed, but hey — as far as I was concerned, he should have had the area evacuated a long time ago. It isn’t my fault the guy can’t control a scene. Then again, he probably already had their station signals blocked, and I was confident he’d have any news tapes under his control before I even left the scene.

My prisoner groaned and cursed, rolling on the sandy ground and struggling against the bonds as he completed his change to human. I pushed myself off of him, shaking with adrenaline, and suddenly Billy was there pulling me into his bare chest. His touch immediately calmed me, forcing the dark thoughts from my mind as my heart found its rhythm again. Pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, he studied me, his face filled with concern.

“You okay?” he finally muttered.

I nodded, unable to talk. When he was satisfied I was calmer, he turned his attention to the prisoner and fury clouded his eyes as he turned away from me.

I could sense his need. He wanted, no—he
needed
to rent and tear the flesh from this creature, to feel the ebb of life deaden under his great paws. I knew because I felt it too. After years of living together, it was all too easy to know how Billy was feeling. I touched his hand, reminding him we weren’t alone and his features softened ever so slightly.

With pinched lips, I pulled away and made a show of reading the man his rights. That was for the benefit of the news team that swept in with daring aerial sweeps to follow our every move in the dark night and, in the event any footage was captured, for the Territorial Council, which is the only group I really have to answer to.

Tonight, there would be no justice…

Under normal circumstances, the murderer would either be interrogated or immediately dispatched because quite frankly, the world was better off without these types of creatures. Even the Council would approve the kill. But tonight our suspect had witnesses and that was the only thing that saved the creature. Billy never took his eyes off the prisoner. We may not be able to do much now, but we would eventually finish the job. Billy was formidable as a coyote, but as a human, he was almost more frightening.

And he was nothing if not predictable.

Recovering my senses, I raided his thoughts, not bothering to be gentle and not feeling the least bit apologetic for doing it. I wanted to view the scene of the home as Billy had seen it, but as soon as his memories hit me, I wished I hadn’t bothered.

The young boy was already dead, the mother nearly so as she lay with her throat cut, curled around her son in a futile attempt to protect him, begging for her life with soft sounds gurgling from her torn throat.

Too late, I realized that the surge of memories I had brought to the surface for both of us caused something to snap in my friend, and before I could even move, Billy flung himself at the prisoner…

I yanked my captive up and pushed him behind me, dangerously positioning myself between my prisoner and my partner. Gun drawn, the large muzzle nearly touched Billy’s chest.

“No, Billy!”

It wasn’t a request…

I sent the command careening through his mind, consuming his every thought with the word.

Unable to argue the order, and unwilling to injure me in the process of trying, he stopped his forward movement, a soft growl low and ominous in his chest. My captive shivered involuntarily at the threat. I reached for Billy’s hand, visualizing the helicopters that hovered above us, as well as the resulting news coverage if he were to indulge his instinct. The command became even stronger with my touch, and he had no choice but to back down.

“You didn’t see what he did in there,” Billy growled dangerously, jerking his warm hand from my own.

“I saw everything,” I replied harshly.

“Stay the hell out of my head, Alex,” he snarled, his golden eyes blazing before disappearing into the shadows.

I blew out a frustrated breath, watching my best friend leave the scene as the police descended on me. I let him go for now. He just needed to blow off some steam. And I needed to find out what the hell was going on here…

The man I protected from Billy was a shifter — of that there was no doubt. What confused me was the fact that I couldn’t hear his thoughts. Too late, I realized I was dealing with something far different than a human going savage or a Newborn. Pulling my prisoner around, I stared into his now human eyes.

“What the hell are you?” I whispered.

Something was happening — something I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know about…

According to the records I had scanned on the way over to the scene, this was not a man who could kill his family. He was a biologist, had never called in sick to work, and for thirty-seven years, had been a loving husband and father. According to the crowd’s comments upon our arrival, he had never missed even one of his son’s ungodly number of soccer games or a Sunday in church with his wife.

Until eight days ago.

It was the inability to read this man’s thoughts that bothered me. Even if he were a newly-turned Were, I should be able to pick up on his basic emotions.

Yet, I felt… Nothing.

The ruined creature writhing on the ground beneath me was only the trembling shadow of a man. He had been altered forever, and not for the better.

Today he had murdered his wife and child…

Sounds whispered around me and my arms prickled with the sudden awareness of someone, or something, approaching. Uniformed officers descended and I obediently placed my hands behind my head as they took the man into custody.

“That’s my prisoner,” I told the officer who pushed my hands down and behind my back one at a time.

“Call Matt,” I said. Until the lead detective showed up, Matt would have control of the scene. He wouldn’t be happy, but he wouldn’t have me arrested either.

At least I didn’t think he would.

“Matt will confirm my identity.”

“I don’t give a goddamn what Matt says,” the officer smirked, pulling my wrists behind my back to place me in handcuffs. “And Matt’s not the one you need to be talking too.”

The crunching sound of footsteps on gravel caught our attention and every muscle tensed as our gaze swept the alley. Something lurked there in the shadows, yet no one approached. A faint whisper of air and the slightest hint of vanilla was all I could taste on the evening breeze. It was a feeling I vaguely recognized—reminiscent of a vampire, but more foreign and distinctive.

Exotic.

The officer who held me instinctively tightened his grip on my wrists, but I pulled away from him.

“Get off me,” I mumbled, “pushing my shoulder against him.”

Whatever approached us wasn’t a ghost. I’d felt ghosts. This was something else. A dark feeling spread over me as I took a second look at the house—it seemed darker than before, almost alive. A dark energy swept through the night, making the officers shuffle uneasily from foot to foot, like spooked horses.

The back door of the house slammed as a man exited and moved towards us with a determined stride. Obviously not an apparition, but not completely human either.

This was a different type of creature.

And I was all tapped out on tolerance for unknown creatures for the night…

It was a man — but not like any man I’d ever seen. He approached, wielding so much power that even I recoiled from his ghostly gray eyes.

But only for a moment.

He was tall; lean and muscular with longish, sandy-blonde hair that made his rough-shaven square jaw stand out that much more prominently. His face could be described as angelic if his silvery gray eyes had not been filled with what I could only interpret as amusement.

Anyone who walked through that slaughterhouse should not have amusement in his eyes.

He carried himself with the air of a man who gave orders rather than one who followed them. He was both beautiful and frightening.

“Hey, Warrior Princess!” he called out, stalking over the dead grass of the yard towards me. An air of disapproval hit me like a physical blow and I took a step back without even realizing it. A soft Georgia accent softened his words — made them seem almost cordial. “Who the hell do you think you are stomping all over my scene?”

“Alexandra Wilde,” I answered. “And it’s not your scene.”

He stepped closer and looked me up and down.

“Well, if it ain’t the Were Whisperer — as I live and breathe.” He shook his head, softly clicking his tongue. “I heard you might be around tonight.”

His words surprised me and I glanced around to see who had heard, but no one appeared to notice.
What the hell did this guy know about me?
I was torn between fear and anger, but before I could decide which emotion was more powerful, his gaze swept over the man at my feet and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Who are you?” I asked in wonder.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he extended his hand. “The name’s Tristan.”

When he noticed I was still handcuffed, he shook his head. “Someone uncuff her!” As the officer removed the bands that held me, I took the moment to regroup and was somehow able to feign indifference to the man. Inside, I was shaking. But, damned if I’d let him know it.

I rubbed my wrists as the stranger summarily dismissed the officers with a single lift of his head. Eyeing the badge clipped to his jeans, I accepted my gun from the cop who had cuffed me and placed it in the front of my jeans, watching the officers disappear into the night. Cars backed out of the alley and in only a moment, we were alone.

“Well,
Shepherd
— you’re out of your jurisdiction. My men had very clear instructions to keep everyone out.”

“Then it appears you have some management issues,” I answered calmly.

He grinned and I couldn’t help but think this guy didn’t take much of anything seriously. “Well, now that I’m here, I can remedy that problem. At the risk of appearing rude, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to remove yourself from my scene.”

Anger washed over me and I met his stance with a formidable glare as I fought to keep my voice steady. “You lost control of
your scene
quite awhile ago from the looks of it. But hey — welcome to the party. Better late than never.”

The comment would strike a nerve with any of my pack members, but he just grinned and lifted his shoulders in a good-natured shrug. I couldn’t help but notice the difference in how men react to a situation. The thought of losing control of anything would send both Billy and Brock into a downward spiral.

But this man wasn’t a coyote or a wolf. In fact, he wasn’t any type of Were I’d ever met. Whoever, or whatever, this guy was — he was powerful. Energy surged through the night with every step he took.

So if he wasn’t Were or vampire and he wasn’t exactly human, or at least not enough to be classified as one on the food chain — what the hell does that leave?

“Still my scene, darlin’.” Reaching for my prisoner, his hand brushed against my arm, and his powerful aura washed over me.

Ignoring the protests of my captive as he was pushed between us, I jerked hard on the creature’s wrists and pushed him against the car.

“Two innocent people were killed tonight,” I said. “So you may want to reconsider who lays claim to this mess.”

Breathtakingly sharp, a rush of power swirled, stealing my breath as it consumed the air around us. His reaction wasn’t exactly unwarranted, and I shouldn’t have reacted to it, but I did. Shepherds don’t have this type of reaction to humans or animals. Then again, he wasn’t really either one. Despite the threat that emanated from him, I refused to back down. As far as I was concerned, Tristan was indirectly responsible for the deaths of two innocent humans — but, it didn’t bother him any more than it bothered the cat I had seen earlier on the wall.

Suddenly I understood what he was and the pieces clicked into place.

Nephilim.

The sudden revelation sent chills across my flesh and I groaned in disbelief. While I had heard of the half-human archangels, I had hoped to never meet one. This was one man that I wouldn’t have even the slightest bit of control over and that knowledge was enough to send my thoughts into a tailspin. Hell, I could barely keep up with the world I already knew; adding new types of creatures to my reality seemed innately unfair — and today I’d met three of them. The worst I could do right now was glare at both him and
my
prisoner in contempt.

According to ancient text, only a few Nephilim were rumored to still walk the earth. The offspring of fallen angels, they became the literary heroes of old and were known for their strength, size, and immortality. They weren’t creatures I should take as anything less than dead serious.

They also had quick tempers — uncontrollable and deadly. But then, if you had the ability to live forever, and no special powers to keep it interesting, who wouldn’t have a quick temper?