Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2 (21 page)

Uncle Sean had explained the importance of
keeping our secret numerous times. “
Think of it as your duty, to
yourself and others like you. There are some things the general
public simply cannot grasp, it is our job to protect them even if
it means hiding the truth.
” His voice was clear in my mind. It
was tough though.

You see, Werewolves like to, I don’t know,
show off
a bit. It’s in our genetic make-up.
Naturally
competitive
would be a better description.
Cutthroat
would be even more apt. It was almost painful to
not
do my
best.

But, like Uncle Sean said, there was to be
absolutely no showing off at school.
Pack rules
. Fine. I’d
listen to them. For now.

I was used to keeping to the sidelines.
Before my change I had never wanted to show off, I mean, I had
nothing to show off. It was strange how I now thought of my life as
before and after.

What had me even more upset than knowing I
had to lose, was the way Sebby reacted to my little mishap. He
seemed almost embarrassed by me. He kept avoiding my eyes. That
stung more than the ball to the face did. I thought he and I were
better friends than that.

Julianna served again and aimed straight for
me. This time I jumped and hit the ball hard.
Too hard.
It
made a popping noise when it hit the floor. Coach Vinnie walked
over to it. He picked up the flattened remains of the blue and
white ball.

“It’s okay kids. Just hit a nail on the old
floor here. Sebastian grab another ball from the basket. Okay
Kelly, try again.”

I eased up a bit. Okay, a lot. The game was
good. We lost by a few points. We were playing against all the star
athletes so we couldn’t make it too close a game. I thought we did
a great job.

Ronan and I worked well together. Of course
we could’ve beat them easily, but we knew better. I mean we had to
fumble a few serves and what not.

It was fun though. We almost made it a game.
Who could miss what and not make it obvious. That sort of thing. No
one else caught it. I almost couldn’t believe it. To me, it was
just so obvious, every time Ronan missed a serve on purpose. But,
it worked.

I was so happy on the car ride home I almost
didn’t catch the report Dimitri and Sascha were listening to on the
local news channel.

“
Earlier today on Tomahawk Lane a fire
burned a one family home to the ground. The remains of all four
family members were found inside the home. Unfortunately,
firefighters on the scene could not comment on the cause of the
blaze as of now. If anyone has information about this fire please
call the police station at 888-5656. In other news temperatures are
on the drop and gas prices are up again, no surprise
there...”

I thought about the fire as I got on my
sparring gear in the training room at what I now came to think of
as Pack headquarters. Otherwise known as the Kelly house, right
next to mine.

Today Cara was going to show me how to use a
knife in battle. I was a little apprehensive. Given our previous
sparring, I would say it was definitely warranted. Ronan was
helping me close the Velcro straps on the extra padding around my
arms and legs.

Just because I am a Werewolf and a fast
healer doesn’t mean I could recover from a severe laceration. I
certainly didn’t want to tempt fate.
Or Cara
.

“Why do I even need this kind of training? I
can’t hold a knife when I’m a Wolf?”

“Yes, but
normally
, you would only
change once a month. It’s important to have good fighting skills
because not all battles happen on the full moon, Maria. There are
things out there with claws, teeth, weapons of their own and they
have
them
every day. This is for your safety.”

“But I’m different.”

“True, but you can’t control it yet, can you?
Look, if you don’t think you need this lesson then change right
now. Go on.”

I tried closing my eyes and concentrating,
but there was so much going on. Dimitri was cooking up something
fabulous. I could smell the large fresh ham he had roasting and I
salivated.

Cara was practicing throwing her knives
across the room at various targets and naturally her aim was spot
on. Uncle Sean was still out at the Church meeting and I didn’t
know where Sascha was. And for some reason I kept thinking about
that fire on Tomahawk Lane.

I was worried. Without Uncle Sean here, who
would keep Cara’s enthusiasm down to a minimum? I gave up trying.
There would be no changing right now. My Wolf remained
unresponsive. I tried again, my eyes shut so tightly I felt tears
form.
Come on, come on, come on. Talk to me. Where are
you?

“Hey, hey, Maria? It’s alright.” I opened my
eyes and Ronan was wiping away my tears. He touched his forehead to
mine and I breathed deeply. I hadn’t even realized I was
practically panting with the effort to reach her.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll stay in the room, okay?
You’ll be fine, she’ll talk when she’s ready.” His voice was very
soothing. He was right too. I was anxious about this lesson. Knives
made me uncomfortable.

“When I was twelve, I was helping Nonna make
dinner. My job was to chop parsley and garlic together for her
special meatballs. The knife slipped and I cut my hand. It bled so
much, Ronan.”

“I’m sure it did. These knives are
sharper.”

“Thanks. That’s just great. So what’s your
advice?”

“Don’t get cut.” He smirked and tapped my
nose with his finger. I’m not sure I liked it. He walked away
before I had the chance to decide.

“Ready for me, princess?” Cara was clearly in
a mood.
Fabulous.

“Good. Before we can get to sparring I need
to show you some forms.” I went through the motions of holding,
sheathing, unsheathing, throwing and wrestling with a wooden
replica of a knife for a grueling hour and half before she handed
me the real thing.

My first impression of knife fighting was
this was nothing like target practice. A gun gave you distance and
a modicum of the illusion you’re safe. A knife was a much more
personal weapon.

It required a much more personal kind of
attack. I smelled the mineral oil that Cara must have used to
polish the leather handle and blade. It was not as sharp a smell as
the gunpowder. It didn’t tickle my nose either. But it was still
there. Metallic and sharp as the blade itself. I twitched my
nostrils and tried to focus.

The knife I held had a jagged edge on one
side. A smooth one on the other. It was about twelve inches long
and semi-curved. Reminded me of the grotesque smile of a clown from
a horror film.
I so hated clowns.

“It’s called
Dragon Fire
.” Cara’s
voice was almost a whisper when she said the name aloud.

“What is?”

“That knife you’re holding. Mine is
Zombie
Killer
.”

“Why do they have names?”

“Names give things power, princess. Do you
know nothing?” I didn’t answer her. Cara’s face was twisted in an
ugly sneer.
She really needs to learn better social
skills.

I watched as she bent her knees and held her
knife, elbows tucked. I mirrored her stance as she went through the
motions of common knife attacks.
I paid attention
.

I may be a teenager, and a verifiable baby
when it came to my Werewolf knowledge, but I was a quick study.
Cara was an expert. I knew she could teach me. I just had to ignore
her attitude long enough to actually learn something.

While she worked she was no longer taunting
and angry. Her body moved quickly and gracefully as she twirled the
wicked looking blade called
Zombie Killer
. She used her
forearms and leather gauntlets to defend against an imagined
oncoming weapon. She was beautiful and deadly to watch.

Sweat beaded on her pale forehead and her
short blonde hair was wet with it. She didn’t pay attention to any
of that. Her focus was solely on the dance. That’s what she looked
like. Take away the leather and the blade and add a tutu and some
slippers and she could have easily been a prima ballerina. She came
to halt in an extraordinarily intricate move.

She jumped into the air swung the blade down
on the head of her imagined foe and landed on one knee the other
leg behind her and
Zombie Killer
thrust into the heart of
her attacker. She motioned for me to copy her and I did. Well, I
tried
to anyway.

“Too slow. Again. No, not like that, see,
you’re dead.” She held the jagged end of the blade a little too
close to my throat. I neither swallowed nor exhaled until she
stepped back. Cara spun the blade away from me and thrust it into
its leather sheath. She was breathing heavy. I didn’t know why. She
wasn’t winded or anything. I started to gather my things too, but
she stopped me.

“No, not you. You stay here and practice. Use
the mirror there. I, uh, I need to step out. I’ll have Ronan
practice with you. He’s skilled with knives.” Ronan had been
watching from the sides. He seemed concerned, but made no move to
take
Zombie Killer
from Cara until she offered it to him. He
bowed his head slightly and she nodded, leaving the room
quickly.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“That had nothing to do with you. I think,
Cara is a little homesick is all. Here let’s go again, shall
we?”

I found it easier to get comfortable with the
blade when I was with Ronan. I wasn’t wary of him the way I was
with Cara. The next hour passed quickly. By the time we stopped I
felt immensely proud of myself. I didn’t even notice Cara had
returned until she cleared her throat.

“Looks like you’re doing well. Keep that
blade with you. Practice more.” She nodded at
Dragon Fire
in
my hand and took
Zombie Killer
from Ronan. Cara walked away
as silently as she had come in. I was struck by the picture she
made. She was small and fair looking, like a pixie with her short
hair. Who would guess she was a deadly kickass Werewolf?

“Wow. She’s giving you the blade?” Ronan’s
voice held a modicum of awe as he took the knife from me and gently
wiped it clean with a microfiber rag.

He placed it reverently in its sheath and
presented it to me handle first. I reached for it. It felt heavier
than it had during our practice. As if now it held some importance
or significance it didn’t have before.

I tucked the blade into the waist band of my
yoga pants. I really must be putting on muscle and some height too
because none of my jeans seemed to fit. It was all yoga pants and
sweats these days.

I really needed to shop, but I hated it. I
suppose not being rich and not having a mom around added to that. I
mean we weren’t poor. We were more like middle class. Nonna just
didn’t like to spend a lot. She was thrifty. I usually only went
shopping a handful of times a year. Looked like it was about that
time again.

“So, you want to go for a run later?”

“Um, yeah, sure. After dark though, I have
homework and some chores.”

“Right. See ya then.”

Our goodbye was awkward. I wasn’t sure where
we stood or why things had to change but I knew they were. Our kiss
had somehow damaged the truce between us. I could feel Ronan’s
frustration with me. Just as I could feel his patience.

I suppose I should have brought up Julianna.
It just didn’t sit right with me that he could have done all the
things she said he did. And then there was Sebby and this rumor I
had yet to confront him about. The one of us dating officially.

I mean he hardly talked to me anymore. Soccer
seemed to take up so much of his time. Besides I didn’t feel
comfortable involving him in all of this mess.

Ugh.
Why wasn’t my Wolf answering
me? Why did my relationships have to get so weird? Why wouldn’t my
jeans fit?
I was really worked up by the time I left the
sparring room. I didn’t even notice Uncle Sean waiting for me by
the door to his study.

“Grazi, my darling, can you spare a second of
your time?” He always did that. Put his commands to me as if they
were actually a question. Good manners. I suppose, but a command
was still a command. No matter how prettily you dressed it up.

“Okay, sure.”

“How’d you do in your sparring today?”

“Fine.”

“Well, you’re talkative today aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, something like that.” His blue eyes
narrowed on the knife on my hip.

“That’s Cara’s?”

“She, uh, gave it to me.”

“Did she? Well. That’s something fine, now
isn’t it? May I?” I handed him the blade. He bowed his shaggy
blonde head before taking it. He carefully pulled it out of its
sheath.

Uncle Sean’s steady gaze never left the blade
as he held it on one finger. I noticed it was perfectly balanced.
What a wicked looking thing.
It gleamed in the soft light
peeking in through the shades.

I felt its magic humming in the room.
It
was thirsty
. My eyes flew open and I stared at Uncle Sean. He
lifted his blue gaze and met mine. He looked severe. Menacing or
angry even. His exhale was audible.

“
Dragon Fire
is a worthy blade. It has
a long history among the Greyback. My great-grandfather used this
knife to slit the throat of a Witch king who had summoned a
powerful Demon in the early 1900s. That was the start of World War
I.” I trembled with energy. Witches and Demons were responsible for
a war that killed so many?
I wanted vengeance.

“This knife will serve well one who deserves
it. Make sure you do.” He held it out to me. I wondered if he felt
the same thirst from the blade that I had. Yes, it was powerful.
Certainly strong enough to persuade me I needed vengeance on
something or somebody for a war that was fought long before my
time.