Read Whispers at Moonrise Online
Authors: C. C. Hunter
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To my editor, Rose Hilliard, and my agent, Kim Lionetti, for helping me reach my writing goals. To my husband for cooking the dinners, for doing the dishes and the laundry, so I could put in the hours to make deadlines and work toward making those dreams come true.
Acknowledgments
So often in this life, we spend so much time telling people when they do something wrong, from the waitress at the restaurant to the bagger at the grocery store. We forget to tell those people who just get it right. So I’d like to tip my hat to one organization and a bunch of individuals who have gotten it right.
To Romance Writers of America for creating an organization that provided me with the knowledge to move up the ladder in this career. To Rosa Brand for her awesome videos and friendship. To Faye Hughes and Kathleen Adey for assisting me in getting it all done. Thanks for all you two do. To all my writing peeps whose support is essential to making this mostly solitary career into one with a group of peers who are there to laugh and cry with, and keep each other inspired. A special thank you to another writing peep, Susan Muller, for the hour of walking, talking, and laughing we do most every day. To my parents, Pete Hunt and Ginger Curtis. You must have done something right because I didn’t turn out too bad. Well, I’m not perfect, but for the most part, you must have raised me right. To my kids, who haven’t turned out too bad, either. I’m proud of you both. And because as I write this, it’s almost Father’s Day, thank you to Jason, my son-in-law, for being a champion daddy to my precious granddaughter. A big thank you to the fans who have recommended my series to others. And my gratitude goes to those fans who have taken the time to e-mail me and tell me that my books have touched them in some way. Those e-mails help keep my joy of writing alive and kicking even when deadlines are kicking me in the butt. Thank you to each and every one of you for getting it right.
Contents
Chapter One
Kylie Galen stood on the porch outside the Shadow Falls office, panic stabbing at her sanity. A gust of late August wind, still chilled by her father’s departing spirit, picked up her long strands of blond hair and scattered them across her face. She didn’t brush them away. She didn’t breathe. She just stood there, air trapped in her lungs, while she stared through the wisps of hair at the trees swaying in the breeze.
Why does my life have to be so damn hard?
The question rolled around her head like a Ping-Pong ball gone wild. The answer spun back just as quick.
Because you’re not all human
. For the last few months, she’d struggled to identify the type of non-human blood that rushed through her veins. Now she knew.
According to her dear ol’ dad, she was … a chameleon. As in a lizard, just like the ones she’d seen sunning themselves in her backyard. Okay, so maybe not just like those, but close enough. And here she’d been worried about being a vampire or a werewolf because it would be a little hard to adjust to drinking blood or shape-shifting on full moons. But this … this was … unfathomable. Her father had to be wrong.
Her heart pounded against her chest as if seeking escape. She finally breathed. In, and then out. Her thoughts shot away from the lizard issue to the other bad stuff.
Yup. In the last five minutes she’d been slapped with not one, not two, not even three, but with four oh-crap eye-opening revelations.
Well, one thing—Derek’s confession that he loved her—couldn’t completely be called bad. But it sure as hell couldn’t be called good. Not now. Not when she considered them history. Not when she’d spent the last few weeks trying to convince herself that they were just friends.
Her mind juggled all four disclosures. She didn’t know which to focus on first. Or maybe her mind did know.
I’m a freaking lizard!
“For real?” she spoke aloud. The Texas wind snatched away her words. She hoped it would take them all the way to her father—wherever the dead who hadn’t completely passed over went to wait. “Seriously, Dad?”
Of course, Dad didn’t answer. After two months of dealing with one spirit or another, the whole ghost-whispering gift and its limitations still managed to piss her off. “Damn!”
She took another step toward the main office’s door to unload on Holiday Brandon, the camp leader, then stopped. Burnett James, the other camp leader and a cold to the touch but hot to look at vampire, was with Holiday. Since Kylie couldn’t hear them arguing anymore, she figured that meant they might be doing something else—like sucking face, swapping spit, doing the tongue tango. All phrases her bad-attitude vampire roommate Della would use. Which probably meant Kylie was in a bad mood. But didn’t she deserve a little attitude after everything that had happened?
Clenching her fists, she stared at the office’s front door. She’d inadvertently interrupted their first kiss and she didn’t want to do the same with their second. Especially when Burnett had threatened to resign from Shadow Falls. Surely Holiday could change his mind. Couldn’t she?
Besides, maybe Kylie needed to calm down. To think things through before she ran to Holiday in bad-attitude hysterics. Her thoughts shifted to her latest ghost issue. How could a ghost of someone who was alive appear to Kylie? A trick, right? Had to be a trick.
She glanced around to make sure the ghost had really gone. The cold had vanished.
Turning, she shot down the porch steps and headed around to the back of the office. She started running, wanting to experience the sense of freedom she got when she ran, when she ran fast, ran non-human fast.
The wind picked up the black dress she’d worn to Ellie’s funeral and sent the hem dancing against her thighs. Her feet moved in rhythm, barely missing the Reeboks she usually wore, but when she arrived at the edge of the woods, she came to an abrupt halt—so abrupt that the heels on her black dress shoes cut deep ruts into the earth.
She couldn’t go into the woods. She didn’t have a shadow—the mandatory person with her to help ward off the evil Mario and his rogue buddies if they decided to attack.
Attack again.
So far the old man’s attempts at ending her life had proved futile, but two of those times had resulted in the death of someone else.
Guilt fluttered through her already tight chest. Fear followed it. Mario had proven how far he’d go to get to her, how evil he was when he’d taken his own grandson’s life right in front of her. How could anyone be that wicked?
She stared at the trees and watched as their leaves danced in the breeze. It was a completely normal slice of scenery that should have put her at peace.
But she felt no peace. The woods, or rather something that hid within, dared her to enter. Taunted her to move into the thick line of trees. Confused by the strange feeling, she tried to push it away, but the feeling intensified.
She inhaled the green scent of the forest, and she knew.
Knew with clarity.
Knew with certainty.
Mario wouldn’t give up. Sooner or later she would face him again. And it wouldn’t be serene, tranquil, or peaceful. Only one of them would walk away.
You will not be alone.
The words echoed deep within her as if to offer her peace. No peace came. The shadows between the trees danced on the ground. Calling her, beckoning her. To do what, she didn’t know.
Trepidation took another lap around her chest. She dug the heels of her shoes deeper into the hard dirt. The heel of her right shoe cracked—an ominous little sound that seemed to punctuate the silence.
“Crap!” She stared down at her feet. The one word seemed yanked from the air, leaving nothing but a hum of eeriness.
And that’s when she heard it.
Someone drew in a raspy breath. While the sound came only at a whisper, she knew that the owner of this breath stood behind her. Stood close. And since no chill of death surrounded her, she knew it wasn’t from the spirit world.
The sound came again. Someone fed life-giving air into their lungs. Odd how she now feared the living more than she feared the dead.
Her heart thudded to a stop. Much like the grooves left in the earth by her three-inch heels, her growing dread left ruts in her courage.
She wasn’t ready. If it was Mario, she wasn’t ready. Whatever it was she needed to do, whatever plan or fate she was destined to follow, she needed more time.
Chapter Two
“Are you … okay?”
The voice. Not Mario. Derek’s voice.
His familiar tone had her initial panic fading, but only for a second.
I’m in love with you, Kylie.
The words he’d spoken less than fifteen minutes ago flowed through her head, bringing with them another emotional storm that made her mind and heart spin. Derek loved her. But what did she feel?
She shifted slightly, and the heel from her right shoe fell off, making her off balance. That’s how her life felt—as if it had lost a heel, and her only choice was to limp along.
“What’s wrong?” His voice rang with concern.
I’m fine.
The words perched on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them. Derek, half-fae, could read her. To lie to him about her emotional state was futile. So she turned around and faced him.
“What are you doing here without a shadow?” Derek asked. “You know you’re not supposed to be without a shadow in case that freakish rogue returns.”
Meeting Derek’s gaze, she spotted the panic brightening his eyes. She knew the panic she saw was her own as well. When she hurt emotionally, he hurt. When she experienced joy, he lived it, too. When she feared something, he feared it for her. Considering her emotional state these last few minutes, he must be in hell.
His chest expanded behind the fitted dusty green t-shirt. He held a hand over his hard stomach as he sucked air into his lungs. His dark brown hair appeared windblown, and his bangs clung to his forehead. A drip of sweat rolled down his brow. For a second, all she could think about was falling into him, letting his calming touch chase away the apprehension inside her.
“Is it … what I said?” he asked. “If it is, I’ll … take it back. I didn’t tell you that to tear you apart inside.”