Shepherd's Moon (15 page)

“He’s getting way too big for that,” Brock scolded. “Another week and he’ll be able to knock both of us to the floor.”

It didn’t matter to me. There is nothing as great as having a kitten in the house and I rewarded Tau with a nuzzle, his coat soft against my cheek.

Pasha rubbed against my legs as Brock reached down to run his fingers along her back. Rewarded with a threatening hiss, he yanked his hand away. A low, growl emanated from his chest and I touched him lightly on the arm.

“They’re barely a year old, Brock. They don’t know any better. Their instincts say you’re still a predator.” I moved my head back to avoid Tau’s loving, but potentially fatal, greeting. At nearly eighty pounds, even a loving gesture could prove hazardous to a human like me.

“Okay, Tau—that’s enough. Get down.” As I leaned forward, the cat pulled his giant paws from my shoulders and dropped not so gracefully to the ground. Pasha waited patiently for a brief head rub before turning to chase her brother across the living room, finally tackling him to the ground as they rolled across the floor. The cubs now effectively occupied, I addressed their mother.

“‘Evening, Modnik.”

The black jaguar came as close to nodding as a cat can come, then ushered forth a long, low rumble that I could hear across the room. I opened my mind to perform a brief welfare check, only to be rewarded with a healthy, calm feeling that could only be described as a wary bliss.

Satisfied that everyone was healthy and happy, we cut across the massive room to reach the kitchen.

“Tau is starting to look just like his mother.” Brock jumped up on the counter as I pulled an extra large mug down from the cabinet. “I suppose that’s why Diego used her — the best of the best. I still can’t believe we got her back here without losing at least one of them.”

“She’s lucky,” I echoed his thoughts about Modnik. “If we hadn’t gotten her out of there…”

Modnik had been a challenge since day one. Hers was the first rescue I had been on with Joseph. While on vacation with the majority of our pack, he’d caught wind of the Panther’s forced captivity. After a long week of hiking under the verdant, sunlit canopy of rainforest, and returning to the thatched palm roofed huts of town each evening, we had finally stumbled across the werejaguar who had kept Modnik captive.

My only task at the time had been to act as a sort of ‘animal translator’ during the journey, a job that was a lot tougher than it looked. New species of animals, customs I wasn’t familiar with, rules that didn’t involve the Council. After traipsing through the humid jungles of Costa Rica for two weeks as the rainforest came alive with a cacophony of sounds from foreign creatures and thousands of insects that we’d never before laid eyes on, had both exhausted and empowered me. By the time we caught up with Diego, I had reached my limits both physically and emotionally. Killing the man had nearly been my undoing.

It had taken another four days to hike back out of the rainforest with the heavily pregnant, very uncooperative jaguar. Had I not been there to quiet the giant cat’s mind, I wonder if we would have made it out at all.

“I was more surprised we got a wolf and a coyote into the jungle than I was about getting a jaguar out of the country. I smiled at Brock as I placed a cup of water in the microwave, waiting the obligate two minutes.

“Luck is something you appear to have a lot of.”

I simply nodded.

“More than I deserve…”

Brock finished a sandwich with me, reminiscing about our adventures in an attempt to take my mind off the evening’s events. But, my shoulder ached — a deep, consistent throbbing that was a constant reminder of how things had gone down tonight. Excusing myself, I headed back to my room, thinking only of how a hot shower would ease the stiffness resonating through my body.

I stripped off my clothes, leaving them scattered along the floor, as I made my way into the bathroom. A glance in the mirror caught me off guard and I stopped to stare. My naked body was a physical reflection of my life; long rows of scars along my torso, puncture wounds on my arms and legs — each mark was a living record of my time as a Shepherd. And still there was more — the more recent scratches and deep purple bruises reflected each strike I had endured last night.

With a deep sigh, I reached into the shower and twisted the knob, letting the water heat up as I brushed through my hair and made my best attempt to stop the day’s images from taking over my thoughts.

It was no use.

A wave of guilt crashed over me as the images flashed through my mind. I shouldn’t have taken so long arguing with the officer when I first arrived on the scene. I shouldn’t have stopped Billy when he first wanted to bolt into the home — if I hadn’t forced him to wait, he would have been in that house with the man’s throat in his teeth before anything happened to the family.

If Joseph were still here, he would never have hesitated. He would never have let those people die. Joseph would have found a way to get into that house before anyone was injured or killed, just as he would have figured out a way to track down the Handler a week ago instead of wasting time with Azrael.

It was becoming more and more apparent that whatever skills my predecessor possessed had not been passed down to me during the countless hours of training he’d put me through. All of it just amounted to one more thing that I wasn’t good at. One more thing that was beyond my control.

Placing the brush on the counter, I felt the water temperature and, satisfied it had reached a level of heat that would ease my tension, shed my robe and immersed myself. An instant, almost hypnotizing state of relaxation came over me as I let the hot water cascade over my shoulders. Placing my arms against the tile shower, I leaned into the water letting my thoughts turn to more practical things.

There was something strange about the man who killed his family — there was something missing, some connection I wasn’t seeing. I ran through the night, every step, every word.
What was I not seeing?

An image of the man’s tattoo flashed into my mind. It was the same design as the amulet Meg wore — of that I was confident. But, what was its significance? There had to be a reason I’d seen it twice in as many days, as I doubted it was the beginning stage of some kind of trend. So, why would it appear on an old woman and a creature that I couldn’t read within a day of each other?

I shivered, despite the steam rolling from the shower. Nothing was going to be resolved hiding out in a shower. I turned off the water and climbed out, wrapping a towel around me. There was just too much waiting for me to do.

One of those things included making a call to Richard and determining how best to handle the situation with Tristan — a creature I had no desire to deal with and one I suspected would end up being another complication in my already complex life.

The man’s arrogance was nearly overwhelming, and I wasn’t sure what to make of his unusual heritage. On one level, it was intriguing. On another, it alluded to a dark danger that I had very little desire to get involved with, and even less interest in researching.

Yet, the way things were going these days, it appeared I would be given little choice in the matter.

I pulled a robe around my shoulders before noticing the hot tea on the nightstand. Aida and Jace always came through for me, whether I wanted them to or not. At the moment, I wasn’t sure I deserved any of their kindness. But I wasn’t going to turn down a hot cup of tea either.

A glance at the cell phone told me it was 12:04 am, and I already had missed two calls. I locked the screen, knowing I should call Richard back — or at the very least, send over a report on the outcome of this evening’s events. But, I just couldn’t bring myself to reach for either the phone or the computer. Besides, it was a conversation best reserved for a face-to-face meeting and I had no intention of driving down to the station at this hour. I set the phone on my oak nightstand before stepping onto the balcony with my tea.

A light breeze swirled around my legs and I inhaled the clean scent of the Arabian jasmine that lined the porch of the balcony, then snaked down to the overhanging ledge. Having the distinct characteristic of being the only species of jasmine that can flourish in the deserts of Arizona, it was one of my favorite flowers. I plucked a nearby blossom that hung over the railing and twisted the stem in my fingers, inhaling the fragrant scent that hinted at orange blossoms and vanilla, then dropped it from the balcony, watching as it twisted and fell, dropping gracefully to the ground.

Somewhere out there in that desert night, my pack was stalking the grounds, guarding our home. I wondered if Billy was out there tonight, hunting with the pack or sulking under the stars.

The fact that he even crossed my mind annoyed me… In Were terms, he was still a pup and more often than not, he acted like one. But, lately I’d seen a change in him; one that I would need to learn more about. He was becoming less forgiving, less tolerant—even a little sad.

Particularly with me.

I pulled the thick robe tighter around my shoulders. Billy and I had always shared an easy friendship, had done so for years, but lately there was a tension between us. And I knew why, even if I didn’t want to admit it…

The last year or two had been a time of change for everyone.

Each Were had their own courting rituals and customs, and they varied widely. Jaguars were loners, unwilling to share their world with anyone, including other jaguars, except for a rare mating every few years. As antisocial as jaguars are, wolves are the complete opposite.

They are the most social of creatures, unable to live without their pack. While Brock had yet to find his mate, I knew the day was coming.

Coyotes, on the other hand, drifted somewhere in the middle. They could live with or without a pack and tended to be a little more, well — doggish — when it came to relationships. Leave it to Billy to be the one exception to that rule…

I shook the feeling away and sipped my tea, listening to the desert come alive with noise and shadows in the night.

Taking a deep breath, I was suddenly overcome by the sense of lion. My mind scrambled to open a connection, and I honed in on the very distinct signal.

Cougar, not lion, but powerful nonetheless. And not one of mine.

With the help of a rabbit that scurried over the sand, I honed in on the cougar. Following the line of sight, I could just make out the distinguishing characteristics of a large cat lying in wait on a large boulder.

The fact that there was a mountain lion in my backyard was unusual, but not unheard of. Arizona has one of the highest concentrations of wildcats, and therefore werecats, in the world. Our climate suits them. While the big cats generally remained wary of humans, the sudden encroachment of homes on their land and the lure of an easy meal in the form of a small family pet often proved too difficult to pass up.

What had me on edge now was the familiar vibe of the animal.

This was a powerful werecat, and one with the distinct feel of the lion that had saved my ass in the alley just two days ago.

From my vantage point on the balcony, I scanned the shadows below. Joseph had chosen this estate wisely. Our land bordered the national forest, and when an entire national forest is added to a 150-acre ranch, there is room enough for a household of hunting shifters. From the patio, I can see miles across the forest that, in our case, consists of scrub brush and mesquite trees rather than woodland pine. There was no movement below, yet I could sense the cat was very near.

Feeling eyes on me, I inhaled sharply as an owl called out in the darkness, circling overhead. It only took a heartbeat for me to tap into the bird’s thoughts as it scanned the darkness below under my gentle hand.

The trespasser wasn’t tough to find and as I eased my subconscious hold on the bird and slipped into the mind of the cat, I felt a vague sense of déjà vu.

It wasn’t a lion that saved my ass in the alley only two nights prior; it was the large cougar that now stood on a bluff overlooking a very familiar-looking man.

Tristan…

Tristan…