Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2 (22 page)

Powerful. Definitely.
But I wasn’t so
sure if that was good or bad.
Dragon Fire
was much older
than WWI. I sensed that. It was even older than I think my uncle
knew. I took the sheathed blade back from him. Carefully.

“So now, where were we? Yes, there is another
matter I wanted to discuss with you.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, there is no gentle way to go about it
so I may as well just tell you.”
Finally some answers about the
mysterious prophecy and contract.
I readied myself for what I
was about to here.

“Grazi, I know things have been sort of
confusing for you. Growing up without any contact from any of us on
your da’s side that is. It may seem strange to you. The Pack rules
you’ve had to swallow without question, but know that I am on your
side, kiddo.”

His blue eyes stared at me and I was struck
by how like my father’s they were.
On my side. Right. For how
long?
I didn’t even realize I still felt that way.

That those kinds of doubts remained with me.
I wanted to believe him, really I did. It’s just, trust came
hard.

“It’s okay if you need some time to come to
terms with all that. I understand. Anyway there are matters of
estate I need to tell you about. You see, you’re mother and father
set up a trust for you when you were first born. Upon your
eighteenth birthday you will receive half of the trust and the rest
when you are twenty-five. These documents will explain to you all
that you have inherited. Money, lands, titles and such. I am the
executor of your father’s will and as such I am permitted to give
you a yearly stipend, or an allowance.” My mouth hung open as I
looked over the paperwork. There were a serious amount of zeroes
involved.
OMG. I’m rich? Not exactly what I was hoping to
discover, but not such a bad thing either, right?

“Uncle Sean, what does this mean? I mean I
can remember our little house. They, we,
it
didn’t seem like
we were wealthy or anything.”
Flabbergasted.
I was
flabbergasted.

“Yes well, Lilliana and Patrick were never
mercenary that’s for sure. Your da grew up in an old Irish castle I
guess he preferred to live simply. And your mum,” His voice
cracked. He turned his head and walked back around the large
desk.

He sat stiffly and ran his fingers through
his gray blonde hair. He was a handsome man. I tried to imagine if
my dad would have looked like him, maybe a little taller and bigger
in the shoulders. He cleared his throat.

“Lil-, your mother was a very levelheaded
woman. She probably didn’t want to spoil you. Anyway, here.”

He held out a credit card of some sort. My
full name was written in raised print across the bottom.
Maria
Graziana Kelly
.
Expiration March 2020.

“This is a debit card in which I have placed
ten thousand dollars for your use. Now this isn’t just free money
for you to do whatever you like all willy nilly. You need clothing,
supplies, gear. That knife is priceless, but you’ll be needing
protective gear and fighting clothes. I have taken the liberty of
arranging a fitting with a contact here in the states who has
outfitted us before. He will be here sometime this week. The Pack
will take care of most of the costs, but I am sure there are items
you will want.”

“Okay.” I could think of nothing else to say.
I was still trying to process what I had just learned.
I had
money. My own. Not Nonna’s and not Uncle Vito’s. Mine.
It gave
me a huge sense of independence.

“You’ve grown, you know, probably an inch or
two in height and about fifteen pounds in muscle and definition
since I’ve been here. That’s good, but I’m sure you need some
personal items. Sascha will drive you. You can take Ronan too.” The
idea of buying some new things was appealing, but no way was I okay
with that plan.

“Okay, wait a minute. I am not going clothes
shopping with boys!”

“Grazi, be reasonable. You need an
escort.”

Okay, I know I ‘m a Werewolf. Yes, I’ve
defeated a Wendigo and a Vampire. But there was no way was I trying
on bras and buying underwear in front of a bunch of guys. A girl
had to have her limits.

“I have someone who can take me. Don’t worry,
Uncle Sean.” I headed out of the house and ran into mine.

Nonna was sitting at the kitchen table with a
stack of papers in front of her. She was reading intently. I must
have startled her because she jumped when I entered the room in my
haste.

“Oh, Grazi! You want to eat something,
si
?” She was half way out of her chair when I shook my
head.

“No thank you, Nonna.”

“Okay,
bellisima
.” She sat back down
and continued to read her papers. I gave her a kiss on her soft
cheek and headed upstairs. I closed the door to my room and grabbed
my cell phone.

“Angela? Hi. I need to go shopping for some
clothes tomorrow after school. And I need help.” She hung up after
squealing with delight and I hurried and showered and dressed.

It wasn’t even Thanksgiving and already the
mall was decorated with thousands of mini lights and miles of fake
evergreen garland. A huge tree made out of round ornaments stood
thirty feet tall and an old man dressed up as Santa Claus sat in a
huge red and white chair.

Tired, cranky, overdressed children stood in
line and waited for their turn to take an overpriced photograph. A
young girl dressed as an elf tried desperately to entertain them
until it was their turn. None of them smiled.

I sympathized with all of them. Every year
when I was little Aunt Theresa insisted on a photo of her girls
with Santa. Because of Nonna, I would go too. There would be two
pictures. One of us together for Nonna and one separate.
Of
course
.

Aunt Theresa always explained that it was
because she needed to send copies of her children’s picture to her
family. Never mind the framed copy that hung in our living room.
Nonna never sensed the venom behind her claim. I recalled it more
clearly now as I watched the children below me.

Julianna and Rebecca would be dressed up in
matching velvet and plaid dresses with little patent leather shoes.
Their hair immaculately combed and pinned up in red and green
ribbons.

I would be in clean jeans and whatever
sweater Nonna had knit for me. My long dark hair pulled back in a
neat braid. The sweaters were always soft and comfy, but the
difference in our appearances was severe. Back then I wished for
just a hint of kindness from my aunt. An offer to help me do my
hair up with a ribbon? Maybe take me shopping for a dress? But that
never happened.

Julianna always went out of her way to trip
me or push me into the outer corner of the picture while she and
Rebecca sat on Santa’s lap. I usually stood behind them. The lines
were the worst. When I was twelve I refused to go with them and
Aunt Theresa was only too happy to leave me out. I was glad I no
longer had to endure that. Glad I learned early to ignore the fact
that my aunt had no wish to include me in her family.

Still, I loved the mall at Christmastime. It
was so pretty and smelled so good like cinnamon and balsam candles
and hand dipped chocolates. Angela wanted me to stop in every store
and I finally had to put my foot down. I settled on a few good
pairs of jeans that actually fit me and a number of tee shirts to
go with them. I was usually warmer these days so I stayed away from
outerwear.

I did snag an oversized gray hoodie with the
word Pink written across the chest in black. I also purchased a
soft cable knit sweater in ivory. Lastly and most importantly, I
bought a dozen new bras and twenty pairs of underwear. Having
ripped my last two really good ones to shreds during my change, I
figured these were a good investment. They probably wouldn’t last
very long. I bit my lip and went back and got four more of
each.

“Seriously, Grazi, what are you going to do
with all those bras and panties? And you really should consider a
thong.”

“Um, maybe next time. Besides I needed all
the sports bras for gym and running.”

“Speaking of running. What do you say, you
get a new pair of sneakers?” I looked down at my beat up Nikes.
Sure they were old and had seen better days, but I wasn’t sure I
could give them up.

“Come on. It will be okay.” Angela used fake
sympathy to get me into the store and I have to say I am glad about
it. I went into Journeys and bought a pair of Nikes identical to
the ones I had on. I also got a pair of Converse like Ronan’s but
in blue, and a pair of very functional, steel toed, black combat
boots that came up to mid-calf.

“Going through a Goth phase are we?” Angela
asked eyebrows raised.

“No, I just like them. And so what if I am.”
I nudged her with my shoulder and she giggled.

“Nothing, nothing. I happen to like corsets
and lip piercings I just didn’t think
you
did.” More
giggles. I had such a good time I barely felt like I was
shopping.

Uncle Sean was right. I had grown. I went up
a size in everything. I was probably happiest about my bra size,
though I am ashamed to admit it.
I am such a weirdo.

I felt a little bit guilty. I spent so much
money on myself. I had never done anything like that. So, I stopped
by a kiosk of handmade candles and doodads. I picked up a patchouli
scented candle and a bottle of pink salt from the Himalayas for
Nonna. I also picked up some cherry licorice laces and butter
toffee for Ronan. I kept that to myself though.

“Oh no, you’ve got buyer’s remorse. I know
what we need!” Angela phoned her driver and we left the mall. A few
minutes later we were pulling up at Sherry’s spa. I was nervous. I
hadn’t seen Sherry since the other night.
Would she
spill?

We entered the spa. I could feel sweat form
on my brow despite the chill in the air. It had been unseasonably
cold for weeks now. The salon had heat coming through the air
vents, but it was stifling to me.

I looked around checking for Sherry, all I
saw was a few of the regular employees.
Smelled like regular
humans to me
. Angela grabbed my arm and we walked over to the
pedicure seats. I sat down and she started taking off her boots and
socks.

“Don’t you want a pedi?”

“Nah.” I shook my head and got up and walked
towards the magazines.

“Okay, so I want this red on all my toes
except the big toes. I want them green, but can you paint a red
flower on them both?” Angela was chatting away to the poor
pedicurist with all of her demands. One leaf on the right foot but
two on the left, and so on and so forth.

I had no idea how she came up with these
things, but according to her there was meaning in the details. I
skimmed a fashion magazine, but couldn’t even feign interest.
Angela was still busy with her instructions so I snuck to the back
of the shop. I followed my nose so to speak.
Mmm.
Cinnamon.

“Come, in little Wolf,” Sherry was sitting
crisscrossed on a woven rug in front of an altar of sorts. There
were candles in every color, all of them were lit. Some were melted
down to a stub. There were what I guessed were offerings in ceramic
bowls. I could make out the scents of certain herbs, nuts, and
fruits. They all sat in front of a picture of some woman. Maybe a
goddess or something? I didn’t know.

“Um, hi. Am I disturbing you? I can go back
in the other room?”

“Not at all, one minute.” She was chanting
something under her breath in a language I recognized as one she
often used. I felt electricity of some sort in the air. Similar to
the charge I felt when I changed or talked to my Wolf. I knew what
it was now.
Magic.

Thinking about my Wolf made me alarmed. She
had remained silent since earlier in the day again. It was late now
and still nothing. I was seriously getting worried.

“So you have a problem?” Sherry still had her
eyes closed, but I could feel she was listening to me. In tune to
my feelings in a way I was a little uncomfortable with. I don’t
think Werewolves in general liked people guessing what’s going on
with them. She opened her eyes and I noticed they were lavender in
color.

Her hair was a myriad of browns, golds, and
reds. It hung to her shoulders in a perfect wave, Made sense, she
was a stylist/salon owner. I always admired people who just seemed
to wake up beautiful. Like it was just so natural for them. They
wore their hair just right. Always had on colors that complimented
them. Me? I knew nothing about fashion. I wondered if it showed as
readily as her style did.
Hmm.

“Do not get tense, little Wolf. I was just
reading your aura. It is lovely, you know. Predominantly purple
with some silver, pink, green, yellow, and a touch of red. Tell me,
do you often pick up on when one is doing magic?”

“I, um, I don’t know. I mean, I knew
something was going on here, but not what exactly.” I shifted under
her now aquamarine gaze.

“You know, normals, or
non-magic
people
, can read auras too. But I sensed you did not like
it.”

“Must be a Werewolf thing.”

“No, Werewolves
smell
magic. They
can’t feel it or see it unless it is from their Wolves or the moon.
You
feel
it. You are different, Grazi, but I expect you know
that already.” I didn’t know what I should say. How much to reveal.
I shrugged and decided to come to the point.

“She’s not answering me. My Wolf.”

“Ah. For how long?”

“A day or so.”
28 hours, 19 minutes, 32
seconds.
She sprung up from her position on the rug and began
gathering some things. Herbs and a white candle. Then she wrote
down something, instructions maybe, on a piece of paper with a
jumbo blue crayon.
Ookay.