Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2 Read online

  The other Wolves ran back in the same positions. Careful to avoid me. I suppose I was to be ostracized until Rolf could punish me. Whatever. I could deal with that. Besides I had nowhere else to go.

  There was no one else I could think of who could tell me about what I am. If I had to face the music I would. I mean it was never an issue with me before. I was hardly what you would call a troublemaker. But still, I found myself dreading the upcoming scene.

  I waited for my grandfather in his study. I had finished my change before everyone else. Just another thing I did that was apparently weird. It usually took a Werewolf, especially a new Werewolf, some matter of time to change from one form to another. Typically twenty minutes or so. My change was fast. Five minutes or less.

  I wore the clothes I had brought over earlier. Loose sweats and a cotton t-shirt. My skin was always very sensitive after changing back. I’d have liked a shower, but it would have taken a few more minutes before I could tolerate the sharp spray of water. I felt anxious as I paced the room. I just wanted to get this over with.

  I walked around the large square study. There was old fashioned wood paneling on the walls, a beige ceiling, maroon carpet and rows of books stacked on polished shelves. I would have liked to explore them, but now wasn’t the time.

  A large desk sat in the middle of the room. There were a variety of weather and crop reports for the United States, as well as, a Farmer’s Almanac carefully piled on one side. I skimmed over them. There was also a pretty cool looking laptop. It was password encrypted, so I couldn’t log on. Apparently my grandfather was an amateur meteorologist or something. Whatever makes you happy, I guess.

  I looked at the computer again. Maybe I could guess the password? I shook my head and flung my long hair back over my shoulders. I’d never be able to lie about it if asked. Just another supernatural perk. Werewolves can tell when someone is lying. It’s in the person’s scent, posture, and the very timbre of his or her voice.

  I had never been a good liar. I didn’t think I should practice now. I exhaled and took a strand of my hair. It was soft and long. I played with the strands then twirled them around my finger. I did this sometimes when I was bored or impatient.

  I felt something, some presence and turned to see Rolf enter the room. He was so quiet when he moved. Like a wolf stalking his prey. He wasn’t exactly surprised to see me there waiting, but I could tell he didn’t expect it. He raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and nodded his greeting.

  “Ah, it’s true then. The boy told me you could change in just a few minutes.” His eyes narrowed as he looked me over. I shrugged and let go of my hair. I had only been waiting a short time, so he was pretty fast himself.

  “You know, I’ve never been in this house before today. Nonna always said Mrs. Kelly wasn’t related to me.”

  “Did she now? Hmm. Well that’s not entirely true though your grandmother wouldn’t have known it. Mrs. Kelly is my sister-in-law. She’s been watching you for signs of the change for years. The minute we had proof of it, she hopped a plane back home and reported her findings.” He sat down and looked directly at me. It was a little disconcerting. That unwavering steel gaze, but I managed to hold my own.

  “So, you mean, she was my great aunt and never said hello to me? She never even answered the door on Halloween!” I was incredulous.

  I pictured Mrs. Kelly, white hair in a severe bun, tall and thin. She dressed as severely as her hair. A pair of perfectly ironed slacks and a blouse and sweater every single day of the week. No jeans or house dresses. Not even on Saturdays. She used to peek at me from the curtains all the time. Nonna used to joke about it. She’d say Mrs. Kelly was trying to steal all of her best recipes.

  It made sense now. She was spying. But not to get her hands on my grandmother’s Sunday sauce recipe. She was watching me.

  I wondered what tipped her off that I was going to change. And why didn’t she ever talk to me? It stung a little. She had watched me for twelve years and she never bothered to introduce herself.

  My grandfather’s pleasantly accented voice brought me back to the present. He sounded more like Uncle Sean than like Ronan. I guess the youngest member of our small pack, next to me that is, was hanging out with too many Americans. His accent wasn’t nearly as thick as the man sitting in front of me.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” I nodded and he continued.

  “Grazi, I called you back to the clearing tonight. Several times. How is it you were able to defy me?” He leaned forward in his chair. He placed his hands on the huge mahogany desk and rapped his fingers against it in time with his last few words. Yup, he is definitely angry.

  “Defy you? I didn’t defy you.”

  “You didn’t obey my command.”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t personal. There was something I thought I saw.” I heard shuffling behind me, it was the guards. Back in human form, they stood in the hallway. It didn’t matter though. Werewolf hearing penetrated doors and I could smell their discomfort. Ooops, sorry grandpa, guess no one speaks to you that way.

  “And the smell of the game, did that not entice your Wolf?”

  “Sure it did.”

  “Hmm.” He grunted and leaned back in his chair.

  “For a moment I thought you were challenging me.”

  “Challenging you? I don’t understand.”

  “I realized that. That’s why I turned my back on you. A Wolf doesn’t like to be challenged. But I am an old Alpha. I have learned to control my more basic instincts. Another would have seen your disobedience as a threat, Grazi. A challenge. You understand?” He spoke calmly to me. His skin was unlined, only the gray in his hair hinted at his age. Which I assumed to be sixty or so. Nonna was older and she looked it. An old Alpha, hmm. Curiosity got the better of me.

  “How old are you?” His laughter was like a loud bark in the otherwise quiet room.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that was a rude question?” I waited, I assumed he’d answer in his own time. I wasn’t disappointed.

  “I’m one hundred and seven years old.” My mouth fell open. I searched his face and body language for any sign he was lying to me. He wasn’t. He sat there an open book. To say I was stunned is an understatement. My mind raced in a thousand different directions. Questions, a geyser of them, poured into my head.

  “How old do Werewolves get? Are we immortal?”

  “We are not immortal. Werewolves die, as every living thing should. We are simply harder to kill.”

  “But how old do we get?”

  “I believe there was a Werewolf on record who lived to be five hundred and eight. Alas, he was killed in a battle whose name has long been forgotten. But he was the exception, rather than the rule.”

  My mouth hung open. What was it Ronan had said? Werewolves didn’t age like regular people. Like normal people. How old was he then, fifty?

  “Our aging slows down the older you get. There are no sixty year olds in the guise of a ten year old or anything like that. We are genetically different from regular humans and with scientific advances we have researched why we are the way we are. The best I can explain it to you is we are able to expel any matter of foulness from our bodies. Keeps us fit.” He patted his stomach and I could hear the echo. Clearly he was muscular and strong.

  “So you mean things that make normal people age, like food additives and pollution, they don’t affect us?”

  “Precisely. But, to say they are normal and we are not, isn’t accurate, Grazi. Consider us an evolutionary success story. The Almighty designed us for a purpose, to fight His wars and protect humankind. In doing so He made us strong. Able to ward off any number of diseases and illness, and also some curses and spells. You should know this already. I would have thought Sean was a better teacher.”

  “Uncle Sean does just fine.” I don’t know why, but I didn’t like him putting down his son.

  “Does he now? Have you memorized the Canon? Do you know the code of the Hounds? Child, do you e
ven know where you come from? Who you are?”

  “Are you going to take over my education? Tell me what it is to be a Werewolf and what my place is in all of this, grandpa?” My eyes narrowed. He laughed at me. Loudly. Jerk.

  “Alas, my granddaughter, there is much I have to oversee. And we have gotten off the subject.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is Witches to be exact.” He stared at me and I cocked my head in deference to him. He nodded. Approval. Cool. Then he began again.

  “We haven’t seen this kind of activity from the Witches in almost fifty years. The extreme weather, the killings, they are preparing something big. Of that you can be sure.”

  “What do you mean the weather?”

  “Why, Witches will doom crops, summon storms, droughts, floods, fires, ice. Wreak all kinds of havoc with the weather. You can put the blame on them for your unbearably hot summer and the sudden freezing temperatures. They thrive on discord and chaos. I’ll admit we were surprised that they chose to congregate here, in the U.S. It must be you who draws them here.”

  “Me? How?”

  “You are an important player, Grazi. I’m not a hundred percent sure what your part is, but I mean to find out. Now, you stopped the Wendigo demon from ravaging this land, but who is to say it will end there? More will undoubtedly come. You must prepare. Your uncle will remain in charge of your learning.” He began moving the papers on his desk into a neat pile.

  “But no more Church basements. He will live here with the Madden pup and I will leave two of my personal guard with you. Sascha and Dimitri Volkov. You are to do what Sean says in my stead, understand?”

  I was distracted by the thought of Ronan as a puppy. Aww. But I quickly gained control of my thoughts. I was relieved that Uncle Sean would be staying.

  I nodded my head. I didn’t fear Rolf the way the others did, but I could see the hardness inside of him. Maybe that’s what happens when you murder your son. Anger seeped into my veins and I had to bite my tongue to keep from growling. He was looking at his charts and didn’t seem to notice.

  “There are a lot of questions in you. Ask some now.” Okay then, I guess he did notice.

  “Fine. I want to know about my father.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

  “I’ll not speak of Patrick. Ask something else. You’ll not have this chance again for some months so bite back your anger, girl.”

  “Fine. If this is all real, we’re Werewolves, there are bad Witches in the world, and so on, what else is there? How do I tell what else is real? How do I know what to believe? All my life I’ve been raised to follow the Catholic Church, but Werewolves and Witches were never a part of my education. They were never even in the realm of possibility. Am I wrong to still have faith? To believe in God?”

  “Hmm. You surprise me, child. You show maturity and intelligence with these questions I had not expected in a modern day teenager. The only way I know to answer you is this. Faith is a necessary part of existence. It’s what makes us human. Faith, hope, belief.”

  “But then why do so many people believe so many different things if our God is the real one?”

  “I know you have been taught that, but the world is such a big place, Grazi. It is filled with so many different people. And we are all God’s children, aren’t we?”

  “So what like, Muslims, Sikhs, Jews, Buddhists, Christians, Atheists are all God’s children? But they all think they are the right ones. Who is?”

  “I’m a soldier, Grazi, and that is a question for priests.”

  “A soldier? I thought you were the General.”

  “General, eh? I like that. At any rate, I’ve always thought of it like this, all religions are God’s religions. He made us all and that means the ideologies that humankind has developed to explain the universe were also His design. I have never blamed or faulted others our difference in religions. To me it has always comes down to faith and expression of that faith.”

  “So, you’re not just a General. You’re a philosopher too.”

  “Hmm, perhaps, granddaughter, but that’s just the Irish in me.”

  “But the Hounds are Catholic, right?”

  “It is true, we do work for the Catholic Church. That was where the original pact with the Hounds was inked and signed with the blood of your forefathers. That is who the Hounds answer to. But if all churches closed their doors tomorrow, what then? Would we quit or give up?”

  “I don’t know. Would we?”

  “Never. Because God is everywhere. He is everything, He is called by many names, and no one Church or doctrine could possibly claim ownership over Him. At least not to me anyway.”

  “I would’ve expected something else from you. Something more like, only the Roman Catholic Church is right, type stuff. Very modern of you, Grandpa.”

  “Modern? Who, me? Nah, it isn’t modern at all. Tolerance, forgiveness and acceptance was Jesus’ way. And that was over 2,000 years ago.”

  “Before your time, huh?”

  “Yes, smarty pants, way before my time. Heed me now, garinion, never under any circumstances should you think yourself a failure if doubt creeps in. Tis natural.”

  “But what should I do when I, you know, have doubts?”

  “First, look to your pack. That is what they are for, to support one another. Second, have faith, Grazi. As mortal beings it is quite possibly the most important aspect of who we are. And faith is not defined by religious sect. It is defined by our very souls.”

  Packs, faith, souls, religion...pretty heavy stuff considering I hadn’t slept yet. I stared at the patterns the sun made as it shined through the lace curtains on the carpeted floor. I could see the dust motes in the air. I breathed deeply, inhaling the lemon furniture polish as it grew stronger under the sun’s warming rays.

  The entire night had passed already. How could I not have noticed? We must have run for hours, but to my Wolf it could have been minutes. My stomach grumbled. I was starving. I’m such a freak. How could I be thinking of food now?

  “Go on now, have breakfast with your pack. And remember, Grazi, I’ll be watching you.” He turned in his chair, dismissing me as it were. I nodded and left the room. That was the last conversation we would have before he left the country. I thought we would have talked again, but he was gone within minutes.

  I remained unaware of his departure as I entered the spacious kitchen. A long champagne colored marble counter was filled with antique looking chafing dishes piled high with food. My stomach grumbled again, louder.

  Ronan was sitting there. He looked freshly showered with two huge plates in front of him. One was full of eggs another with a mix of pancakes, sausage, and crispy bacon.

  He had a scruffy shadow of a beard and his hair hung down in careless waves. It was a shiny and thick, dark red with streaks of strawberry blonde. My mouth salivated. I hoped to God it was for the food.

  I followed his lead, filling my plate with perfectly scrambled eggs, a chocolate chip pumpkin pancake, and a scoop of homemade strawberry yogurt that I topped off with pecan granola. Next I poured a mug of steaming hot chocolate from a silver pot. The dark rich chocolate permeated my senses, I added a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon to the top. Yum.

  Ronan smiled in between mouthfuls of eggs then drank greedily from a tall glass of iced water. I sat next to him and our elbows grazed each other. A jolt went through me which I ignored. He looked up and wiped his mouth on a napkin.

  I met his eyes for a moment. Then I took a sip from my mug without spilling anything. That was a miracle in and of itself.

  There was so much emotion in his eyes I had to look down. I wasn’t quite ready to admit to myself what was in them. I couldn’t bring myself to meet them again either.

  I looked at my mug instead. The picture made me choke a little on the warm liquid. On it was a fluffy grey kitten with its mouth wide open. Above that it said “What do you mean we’re getting a dog?�
�� Funny. I wouldn’t have expected it amongst all of the formal china and silverware we were using.

  When I looked up Ronan was looking over my shoulder. He was so close I could see that stray freckle of his. He was reading the caption on the mug. He smiled and I almost dropped it. I must be really tired. Sure it had nothing to do with the guy sitting next to me. Uh huh. Right.

  We were all alone in the kitchen. Just Ronan and me. The two of us. Cozy. He righted himself in his seat and poured more water from a glass pitcher into his cup.

  “So, how’d it go? You know, with him.” He cleared his pile of eggs and moved on to the pancakes and sausage. His were banana. Mmm.

  “Fine, I guess. He’s leaving Uncle Sean in charge of my training.”

  “That’s good then. I like Sean, I mean, Fr. Gallagher.”

  “Yeah, me too. I was wondering, um, why are you staying though?”

  “Want to get rid of me then, do you?” He said and took another bite of his pancakes.

  “No, I didn’t mean that.” My cheeks were hot. Great.

  “Just fooling you. Anyways, I guess I’m still learning too.”

  “It’s not because of that contract you mentioned once upon a time?” He looked hunted for a moment then cocked his head to the side and grinned.

  “Nah. That was nothing. I’ve just grown used to your American food. Don’t think I can go home just yet.”

  I nodded my head and continued to eat in silence. I had no idea what else to say to him. I am such a dork.

  The two giants Rolf would be leaving behind came in smelling of soap and shaving cream. They filled their plates with enough food to feed a small country then took seats next to us.

  “Hi, I’m Grazi.”

  “Dimitri, this is Sascha.” The one with the dark blonde hair spoke as the brown haired one shoveled food into his mouth and grunted a greeting. They looked like professional wrestlers.

  Like the MMA guys Nonna watches on television. At least six foot five inches tall and over two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle each. Sitting next to them Ronan looked slender though he was comparable in height. I think he might have gotten taller after our run. Weird. We reloaded our plates a second time and finished eating in silence.