Moon Crossed (Werewolf Hunter Series): Season 1 (Episodes 1-6) (Crescent Hunter) (21 page)

“Claire,”
Aunt Rain calls out, putting her hand on my thigh. “We're
here.”

We're in a clearing
with a cabin. There are several trucks, SUVs, and Jeep-type vehicles
parked wherever they might fit around the clearing. It looks like a
bunch of good buddies getting together for a
weekend of mudding, camping, or hunting. Yeah, hunting. I
shake my head.

“Come on, Claire.
Get your game face on. No weakness, no mercy.”

She says the same thing
before every hunt. I mimic getting out of the jeep. “No
weakness, no mercy.”

While approaching the
cabin, I adjust my weapons and secure the straps on my holsters. The
flurry of activity outside the cabin is pretty typical. Sympathizers
try to blend in, but we always end up congregated together, feeling
ostracized.

I don't mind; the
crescents tattooed on my wrist are a reminder that loving wolves has
never stopped me from making a necessary kill. I straighten my
stance, throw back my shoulders, and hold my head high.

“Claire.”
Alan, an older gentleman, calls to me from the front porch of the
cabin.

“Alan.” I
walk up the steps and throw my arms around him. “Good to see
you. It's been a while.”

“It's good to see
you, too. I just wish–” I cut him off.

“That the
circumstances were different?” A sad smile digs into my cheek.
“I'm pretty sure we say that every time.”

“We do,” he
concedes. “How have you been?”

“Well. How are
you? How's Judy?”

“We're doing
okay.” He leans into me. “How are the boys?”

“Nothin' but
trouble.” My smile is genuine. When I think about them, it
lightens my heart.

“I wouldn't
expect any less.” He raises his eyebrows.

Hayden comes out on the
porch and sets his stance next to Alan. “Let's gather 'round,
everyone.”

The large group of
hunters approach the porch, squeezing in to get a front row view of
Hayden's pre-hunt pep talk. There are at least forty of us. A group
this large makes me nervous; there's a much higher risk of being hit
by friendly fire. Luckily, I'm a good tracker and can take to the
trees, an advantage that many of these guys don't have. Aunt Rain and
I are in the minority; there are only about ten female hunters here
tonight. That's pretty typical, though.

“Okay, listen
up,” Hayden barks to get everyone's attention. The rumble of
the crowd dulls as Hayden continues. “Thank you all for coming.
It was brought to our attention that we have a serious problem
brewing up here with a rogue pack. Enough of a problem that we were
contacted by one of the leaders of the Cohutta pack.”

Mumbles in the crowd
prompt Hayden to bang against the railing on the porch to regain
everyone's attention. “Here's what we know. In the Amicalola
territory, there have been twelve animal attack related deaths and
four missing persons in the last three months.

“So the bodies
were never found?” someone from the crowd asks.

“Exactly.”
Hayden continues, “We've been watching some of the other
activity and we now have reason to believe that Amicalola is
developing a moon-touched pack.”

More rumbles from the
crowd, with some gasps and a “hell, no” or two. I shake
my head, listening to all of the grousing: things like “they
all need to be exterminated” to “we need to find the
moon-touched and segregate them.”

“Our objective
has not changed. It is the same as it has been since the beginning of
our people. To protect the wolf-borne, protect humans, and
exterminate the moon-touched. It's that simple.” He watches
over the crowd, willing them to remain silent and not dare argue with
this fundamental to make sure they got it. “We are going to
split up into groups of four.” Hayden dips his head slightly;
he's not comfortable with what he's about to say. “Two
sympathizers, two non-sympathizers. Please split into your groups and
come get a map assignment.”

His tone is curt and
it's clear that, regardless of how displeased the crowd is with his
decision, he's not going to waiver. This is the preferred way for us
to hunt; then, no one can accuse me of being soft and not doing my
job.

Everyone in the crowd
stiffens. We all feel the presence of the wolf-borne; it puts us on
edge. The sound of swords and guns being drawn from their sheaths,
scabbards, and holsters quiets. We are all staring at the tree line
directly to the north.

“Come on, we know
they are out there. Let's get our assignments and bring in the bad
wolves.” He and Alan start handing out the map assignments, and
the crowd is beginning to disperse. Regardless of
being in front, I'm still waiting. When we do this, I
typically wait until the stragglers are left. I prefer to hunt with
them. Some hunters, specifically if they aren't sympathizers, can be
more brutal than necessary when making a kill. Hanging back helps me
to avoid the zealots. The downside is that I usually get stuck with
the folks who don't know how to fight - which is okay, too, except
that I have to watch for them. I honestly prefer to hunt alone or
just with Aunt Rain.

I approach the Hummer
where the map is laid out. Hayden doesn't look up. “Claire,
you're with me.”

“Huh?” This
is weird.

“I want Rain and
Alan back here as HQ support.” He still doesn't make eye
contact. He's gathering his gear and takes a walkie talkie out of the
battery charger.

“But…”
I look around, trying to find Aunt Rain so that she can fix this.
Then, I point into the middle of the group of six stragglers. “I
was with them.”

“No, you're with
me.” He offers a stern look that tells me there's no argument;
this is it. “Go put these in the Land Rover.”

I take the large heavy
bag from him and head for his truck. This makes me very
uncomfortable, and I'm not happy about this. He's always been a good
leader, but very rough around the edges. My father never liked him,
so it's my duty not to like him, right?

The bags make a loud
clank when I throw them into the back of the truck; the zipper isn't
closed on the bag. I'm outraged; I slam the door on the truck as
Hayden gets into the driver's seat. Climbing in, I fold my arms
tightly across my chest. We are absolutely going to have words about
those traps, but I need to abate some of this anger first. Right now,
all I'm going to do is scream at him and want to shoot him in the
face. We don't trap, period.

He puts the truck in
gear and we roll out to the north in silence.

“How have you
been, Claire?” he asks as the truck bounces and bumps through
the woods, causing me to hold on to the bar.

“I'm fine.”
My tone is tight, trying to keep from unleashing on him before I'm
calm enough to make sense.

“What's been
going on with you? I heard you were in college.” Really? He's
making small talk?

“Yeah.”

“What are you
studying?”

I can't take this
anymore. I know that he's my elder and my father would not appreciate
me being rude, but this asshole has traps and I'm not going to let
him get away with it. “Why do you care?”

“Whoa, what's
with the tension?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the path in
front of us.

“I'll tell you
what the tension is, asshole.” He blanches at the insult. I
don't give him time to interrupt. “I have no idea why you
insisted that I go with you. And if you think for one minute I won't
shoot your ass if you try to set those traps, you're wrong.”

A satisfied smile
spreads across his weathered features and he lets out a laugh. “You
are your mother's daughter.”

“What the hell do
you
know about my mother?” He got me in a weak spot. I
never knew my mom, so when I talk to someone who does, he or she
wins.

“I know a lot.”
He still has that smile on his face. “But as far as the traps
are concerned, I confiscated them and wanted to be sure they weren't
going to be used.”

I loosen my arms, but
only a little. “You weren't going to use them?”

“No, of course
not. First of all, they're cruel, and second - well, it doesn't
matter, they're cruel.” There's a kindness in him I never
noticed before.

“Hayden, are you
a sympathizer?” It comes out astounded.

“I'm a hunter. I
didn't choose this, but it's what I am. Aren't we supposed to
sympathize with the wolves?” He gives me a quick look of
knowing.

I shrug, wanting to
keep my feelings close to the cuff.

“I'm dedicated to
being a hunter.” He inhales and spears me with a look. “You?”

“Are you
questioning my dedication?” My ire is rising again.

“Should I?”

“No. I have made
all of the kills I've had to. Way more than I ever should have to at
my age.” I have to fight back the tears of anger; I hold up my
arm showing him my wrist. “I have a growing reminder of every
life I have taken because of what I am.”

“Claire, perhaps
you should consider it a reminder of all the lives you've saved?”
His tone is thoughtful.

I don’t have an
answer that he'll like or approve of. Whenever I try to rationalize
what I do, I'm just trying to do exactly that: rationalize it. Make
the killing okay. Taking a life is never okay, and these are the
demons that I live with every day of my life.

“I know you're
struggling with this. We all do.”

“Really? Were the
assholes you took the traps from struggling with it? Are we going to
kill them for their blood lust?” My tone is sharp.

“I'd like to.”
He pulls his lips to the side and inhales a breath. “But I'm
concerned that you're making the struggle harder with some of the
choices you've made.”

“Is that what
this is about?” My tone sharpens; he's about to get an ear
full. “My life choices are nobody's damn business but mine.”

“Your father said
the same thing. And look how that turned out.” His voice is
laced with warning.

“Um, hold on just
a minute there.” I inhale, trying to hide the hitch in my
throat that appears any time I talk about my da. “My father was
a good hunter. He hated the wolves, hated them, but never reveled in
his kills.”

“Your father was
a sympathizer.” He's full of surprise that I didn't know this.

“
My
father?” I look straight at him. “I think you've got the
wrong guy. My father was nothing of a sympathizer. He may have been
at one time, but after wolves killed my mother, his love of any wolf
was lost.”

He stops the truck and
turns to look at me. “Wolves didn't kill your mother.”

“Yes they did; a
moon-touched wolf attacked and killed her.” Confusion is
swimming in my head; it's like he's reading from an alternate
history.

He studies my
expression for a long time. “You don't know.”

“Know what?”
I snap, angry, because somewhere deep inside me I know that he's
about to blow my whole world apart.

He turns his whole body
to face me and takes my hand. I snatch it away fast. “Claire,
you're mother wasn't killed by a wolf. She was killed by...” He
stops for a moment, considering his words. “Claire, your mother
was
a wolf.”

Tunnel vision is taking
over and I feel like I'm falling. My head shakes from side to side.
“No, no, that can't be.”

“Yes, Claire,
it's true. She became moon-touched and your father had to put her
down.” There is so much truth in his eyes.

“But...” I
can't continue, or speak. My eyes are flooded with tears, and I just
want to get out of the truck and run away. Just run and never stop.

“That's why I
want you riding with me tonight. Your mother was from the Amicalola
pack, so there's a good chance they'll know who you are. I don't know
how they'll react.”

My head is still
shaking from side to side. “This isn't possible. How can this
be?”

Hayden puts his hand on
mine. “I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that you didn't know.”

“Don't touch me,”
I scream at him. I need to get away from him and everything.

“Claire, please.”

I jump out of the truck
and start running. I can feel wolves all around me, infusing me with
power, and my legs pump hard against the ground as I try to run away
from the truth, the pain, that my whole life has been a lie.

A familiar scent fills
my senses and nearly scrapes at the edge of my sorrow, letting in
calm. To my left, I see a wolf running in stride with me. Even in the
dark, I can see the light blue eyes and know that it's Cole. He's not
trying to stop me from running, just keeping pace with me.

When I feel like my
chest is going to explode, I slow my pace and come to a stop. I'm
gasping for air and put my hands on my knees to steady myself, but I
can't and fall over. Sobs crash against me and I feel a new pain for
every tear that rolls down my cheeks.

Cole nudges me with his
nose, then nuzzles his head into mine. I can't speak, only cry.

He walks around behind
me and, shifts to human. “What happened?”

“I can't...I just
can't.” There's no way I can speak the words right now. But I'm
angry that he's here, that he's putting himself in danger. “Why
are you here?”

He puts his hand on my
shoulder. “Because I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“Your concern is
very sweet, but I can take care of myself,” I protest; it's
ridiculous that everyone thinks that I'm as frail as I look.

“Really? Because
right now you're on the ground crying and have no idea how many
wolves are surrounding us.” His words snap me out of my pity
party.

Sniffing at the air, I
try to calm myself to feel the numbers. There are at least seven
wolf-borne around me, not including Cole. Some of their scents are
familiar. “Locke?”

A wolf emerges into the
light of the nearly-full moon and sits beside me, nuzzling into my
leg.

“It's too
dangerous; I don't want either of you here.” They just won't
listen.