Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2 (30 page)

I walked over and took it down. The book had
a beautiful scene from the Creation story engraved on the leather
binding. I sat down and ran my fingers over the design.

Ronan entered without knocking. I knew it was
him by his smell and the sound of his footsteps. He sat next to me
on the bed. I was content to let him.

It was still strange for me. These new
feelings. I mean, I really didn’t like him or his attitude just a
few weeks ago. I was threatened, confused, scared. It’s not every
day a teenage girl finds out she’s a Werewolf with an impossible
job to do.

And after finding out that he and I had some
sort of weirdo marriage contract thingy, I was completely turned
off. But when I am with him, you know, without all the outside
crap. I have to admit I am happy. I am real. I am honest about who
and what I am.

Ronan brought out the best in me. And if we
had some sort of arrangement, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that
could happen. It’s just that the idea of someone taking away my
freedom of choice bothered me. Like
really
bothered me. No
one was going to choose my life for me. Not ever again.

Ronan sat quietly. As if he knew I was
warring with myself. I appreciated that he gave me space. He looked
up when I had finished my inner dialogue.

“Hey.”

‘Hey.” He smiled, his teeth white and
straight. He looked at me with sparkling emerald eyes. I could feel
myself smiling back.

“You alright then?”

“Yeah. I guess. I just wish I knew what we
were doing here.”

“It’s a pilgrimage.” As if that one word
summed up everything.

“So? Am I supposed to learn something about
myself or what?” He looked confused as I asked this question. Then
he smiled again.

“Oh I see, you don’t really know what a
pilgrimage is to
us
do you?” I shrugged.
Duh.
He
smiled again.

“Well, you’re supposed to learn about the
upcoming battle, get some advice from the saints so to speak, and
maybe pick up a few sacred items that will be of help. Like my
beads. Remember the story I told you? How my mum carved them from a
fallen branch from the Tree of Saints? It makes ‘em special.”

“Like magic?”

“Not magic. Hounds don’t like that word. We
call it Faith, Spirituality, or Divine Intervention.”

“But it’s like magic. I mean, Werewolves have
magic.”

“We are
blessed
.”

“Okay, well call it what you will, but we
turn into something else, Ronan. Catholic or not, it’s
magical
.”

“I guess we’re just not comfortable with that
word. Seeing as how we’ve been taught witches are evil and they do
magic. Understand?”

Ronan was not being argumentative. I could
see he was really just trying to explain. I appreciated it, I did.
I just wished he could see how wrong it was to group a people, any
people, as either good or bad. Surely there were exceptions. Like
Sherry and Alessio.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just vernacular, you
know.” We lay side by side. He played with my fingers as he held my
hand. His breathing was soft and quiet. I listened to the beat of
his heart and almost fell asleep when a knock sounded at the
door.

“He’s here.” It was Dimitri.

“Who is he?”

“Don’t know. Let’s go.” Ronan sat up and
brushed his hair back with his long fingers. He looked good all
disheveled. I wish it was that easy for me. Thank goodness my hair
was still in a braid or I would have needed at least twenty minutes
to brush it.

We walked to the round library room. I
smelled coffee and cookies. My stomach growled.
I’m such a
weirdo.

Ronan handed me a chocolate chip cookie as we
sat down and I took it. He ate three of them in the time it took me
to eat one so I didn’t feel so bad about it. I wondered if they
were organic? I had always been on an organic diet.
Oh well
.
I took another one. It was delicious.

“Well, where is he?” Uncle Sean addressed
Wallace. He looked towards the doorway just as a man came through
it. He was tall, lanky, he had tattoos everywhere and a long mane
of silver streaked hair. It was SilverWolf.

“Hello again, little Hound.”

“You know him?” My uncle’s eyes bore down on
me, but I did not shift my gaze from SilverWolf. He seemed
different somehow. Less tired, more alert.
Hmm.
I still
didn’t know if I could trust him. I ignored my uncle’s questioning
gaze and focused on the Werewolf before me.

“Did the gypsy help?” He asked circling
me.

“He did.”

“And what have you learned?”

“I’m marked.”

“Marked?” he stopped in his tracks.

“Let me see it.” I made no move to show him
my arm.

“I demand to know what is going on!” Uncle
Sean growled, but one direct look from SilverWolf and he averted
his head. The older more dominant Wolf growled lowly in his
throat.

“You do not demand of me, Sean Gallagher
Kelly. I am the last
Conroicht,
I serve one Master and He
may demand of me what He will. Your little niece here gets that,
don’t you, princess?”

“Can you read this mark?” I stood up. Face to
face with him and lifted the sleeve of my shirt revealing the demon
brand. SilverWolf returned his attention to me.

Good thing too, because the tension was thick
between the two Wolves. I knew SilverWolf was ancient and perhaps a
little mad, but he seemed to
know
things. He gripped my arm
and ran his finger over the mark cursing in at least three
languages I recognized, the rest not so much.

“This is not good. I had hoped for
another.”

“What do you mean? Another what?”

“That is the symbol of Moloch. You are being
tracked, princess. And it seems by followers of the most vile of
demons save Satan himself.”

“How do you mean?”

“Among their many heinous practices followers
of Moloch perform ritual human sacrifices. Mainly children. They
release lesser demons and employ all dark creatures like black
Witches and Vampires to perform
his
dirty work of course. If
I remember correctly that kind of mark should be impossible. They
would need to be holding you or a direct relative like your mother
or father. Both are dead, yes?”

“Yes.” I answered and tried not to let the
sting show.

“Really?” He looked at Sean. My uncle lowered
his head more, baring his throat. I had never seen him do that. Not
even to Rolf.

SilverWolf sat down and got very still. The
other Werewolves didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves.
Only Ronan stayed by my side. His job clear enough to him.
My
protector
. Even though I did not need one. Still, I liked him
there.

SilverWolf remained quiet and unmoving for
hours. I finally went back to my room at my Uncle’s nod. There was
no sense in all of us staying awake all night.

“Maria, here.”

“Where did you get that?”

“Less, he slipped it in my pocket before we
left.” He took out my dreamcatcher. The one Alessio had made me. It
was back down to its normal size now.
Weird.
He walked with
me to my room. There was a nail over the bedframe and Ronan hung
the dreamcatcher from it.

“I guess this is goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” He lowered his head and
brushed my lips with his. They were warm and soft and tasted like
chocolate chip cookies. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me
again, deeper. When our lips parted we were both a little bit out
of breath. Our hearts pounded in time. A knock on the door broke us
apart.

“Ronan! You bunk with us.
Da.
” It was
Sascha. Ronan touched my face one last time and left.

I thought I would be sleeping in the room
alone so it was something of a surprise when Cara came in an hour
later. She pulled an air mattress behind her. I was still awake. I
had been reading from the book that was on the dresser. It was full
of Church History and Bible stories.

“Hey. I need sleep so turn down the
light.”

I did as she said, I could read in the dark
anyway. It only took a few minutes for her breathing to turn
steady. I knew she was asleep.

I decided I may as well try. There was
nothing to be afraid of, I admonished myself. After all I had the
dreamcatcher, Ronan down the hall, and a pack of Werewolves to
guard me. What could happen?

I should have known better than to even think
that. I had only been asleep for about an hour when the first bomb
went off. At least I think it was a bomb. The entire house shook.
Cara jumped up and I followed her out of the bedroom.

“Hurry! They are here!” It was Wallace he was
pointing to the stairs and Cara, Dimitri and Sascha took some
weapons from a nearby hall closet, so much for linens, and began
strapping them on. Ronan reached for a weapon too, but when I did
Cara pushed me away.

“Not you, you stay here! Understand?”

“I want to help!”

“No. You’re too important. Ronan keep the
gun, but stay in here with Grazi, that’s an order soldier!”

They headed up the stairs. I gathered that
Uncle Sean was already out there. SilverWolf too since he was
nowhere to be found.

“You can’t go up there, miss. You’ve been
told to stay down here.” I looked at the small man Wallace, he
trembled slightly and averted his eyes

“Sorry, miss, sorry. But you
can’t
.”
He pleaded. I felt bad for putting him in that position, but I was
so not staying down there.

“I will not hide here.” I could feel power in
my words. Ronan looked at me and nodded. I could feel my Wolf, she
was agitated. She wanted to hunt, to fight.

Then came the screaming. The high pitched
shrieking of what I now knew to be Hunter Vampires. The roars of my
protectors came as something of a shock. I knew the Hounds could
only change at the full moon and it was days away. Still Werewolves
were mighty warriors. My sparring lessons taught me that.

“We have to help.”

“Maria, Cara said stay down here. They don’t
want to risk you getting hurt.”

“Why? No one can tell me why I am so
important! Ronan, my uncle is out there. I don’t want to lose
him.”

I told Ronan with my Wolf in my eyes. I
needed to fight to protect what little family I had. I knew he
would understand. He did.

“Aye. But don’t leave my side.”

“Wait! You can’t.” Wallace rushed out of our
way. His feeble protest not enough to make me break my stride. I
walked over to the weapons closet. I already had Dragon Fire, my
dagger, in my belt. I picked up a large bamboo staff sharpened to
points at both ends.

Ronan’s weapon of choice was a short wicked
looking scythe embellished with symbols and wrought in pure iron.
The edge of the blade had been dipped in silver.

I could smell it. A sharp and stinging kind
of scent. It made a sharp clanking sound when he opened it. The
look in his eyes told me his Wolf was near the surface as well.

We hurried to the upstairs door. I heard
screeching and fighting. When I opened it I saw Sean surrounded by
eight vamps. He was quick, but the odds were stacked against him.
Cara was handling two on her own. Dimitri and Sascha were fighting
a group of six. I let loose a scream and ran to help my uncle.
Ronan was close to me.

I twirled my staff and met the first vamp in
the chest. He combusted on impact. The second was more wily,
swiping and hissing at me. It took me a few minutes before I sent
him to join his buddy.

“Grazi! Get back inside!” Uncle Sean yelled
as he shot a Hunter between the eyes.
Hmm. I didn’t know we
could shoot Vampires.

“No, you need our help.” I turned and saw
Ronan slice two vamps in half with a single calculated motion. He
tore through them with the Scythe as if they were butter.
Amazing.
He was fierce and agile as he fought. Like an
ancient warrior I read about in one of the historical romances I
sometimes pilfered from Sr. Marcia’s personal bookshelf at
school.

A Vampire grabbed me from behind, shaking me
from my reverie. That would teach me to daydream during a battle.
Uncle Sean ripped him off of me and put a bullet in his head. This
time the Vamp combusted a little too close to me. I got some ash in
my mouth.
Yuck
. I spat and jumped up. Ready for the next
onslaught.

They seemed to come from the shadows
themselves. We fought with abandon, but no matter how many we
struck down, more seemed to follow. I was shocked by their numbers.
I mean there were just so many of them.

It was my understanding Hunters were a
specific group within the Vampire community. Mainly what became of
their elders when time had warped their senses of reality and
decayed humanity till they were nothing, but the faintest of
memories.

In this fragile state they were turned into
weapons,
hunters
, to be used by witches and demons. Not that
a regular Vampire was so great. After all, they preyed on humans.
But these Hunters, I pitied them. They were not in control of
themselves any longer. You could see it as one after one they
rushed to their deaths.

I had also been taught in one of my lessons
that Vampires were not in abundance. There were less of them than
there were Werewolves. And Werewolves made up less than an eighth
of a percent of the world’s population. Where did all these Hunters
come from?

It was not the time for such reflection. I
took Dragon Fire from its sheath and loosed it, slitting the throat
of a hunter as he bore down on Cara. She was panting from the
exercise, but managed a quick nod before sending the knife back to
me. I caught it and wiped the blood on my pants.

Sascha guarded Dimitri while his brother
wrapped up a long gash on his arm that was bleeding profusely.
Carefully the Vampires circled and pushed us. Coming from one
direction and leading us. My pack was being driven, I realized.
Further from the house. That was their purpose. And then I froze.
Something immobilized me.