Moon Crossed (Werewolf Hunter Series): Season 1 (Episodes 1-6) (Crescent Hunter) (48 page)

Downstairs, Tyler has
gathered the wolf-borne. I need to say something, apologize to make
it right.

“Everyone, please
hold on.” I stop on the third step from the bottom. “Listen,
I'm so sorry for what happened here today. But I had to do something
to stop the fighting. We shouldn't be fighting one another. It's us
against the world; we need to form an alliance.”

Various grumbles come
from the crowd, both wolf and hunter alike. Tyler turns and continues
out of the house, taking the wolf-borne with him. My head hangs in
sadness at the fact that no one wants to try. I just don't understand
why Pike is doing this.

Hayden and Aunt Rain
stand on the other side of the banister. Hayden gives me a strong
look of disapproval. “We need to talk.”

I throw my head back,
because all I really want to do is go to bed. I'm tired, the house is
a mess, and I don't need another lecture. “I know.”

Rain comes up the
stairs and turns me around. “You haven't healed yet.”

Trying to see my
shoulders, I look around and realize that I'm covered in blood and
grime. I must be a real vision. “Yeah, I think I need to get a
shower and change.”

Hayden nods.
“Addressing everyone with their blood all over you may not have
been your best move.”

“Thanks. But it
wasn't just
their
blood.” Looking around, I see many
hunters still laid out, recovering from their injuries.

“True. But still,
we need to talk about what you did.” He shakes his head in
disapproval.

“What else was I
supposed to do? There were hunters who were going to die. It had to
stop,” I plead.

Hayden leans in. “But
now you are imprinted on them, all of them whose hearts were pierced
by your blade.”

“I know, but –”

“But nothing.
They can all feel you now. You are no longer invisible to a lot of
wolves.” The worry in his eyes goes right through me.

“How else was it
going to stop?” I motion to his torn and bloodied shirt. “Look
at you, another ten minutes on the ground with that gash in your
chest and you would have died. I wasn't willing to have any
casualties today. And if that means I'm no longer invisible to the
entire pack, then oh well.”

“Claire, you need
to be more careful,” Aunt Rain scolds.

“We all need to
be more careful.” I turn and head up the stairs. “I need
a shower. Have you guys got this?”

“We do,”
Hayden says in a defeated voice.

What they don't realize
is that I'm really just crapping myself at the thought of being so
vulnerable. I'm losing my advantage; I'll have to be smarter, faster,
and stronger. I need to train more. I throw my hands up. “Great,
I already have no time for anything. Now I've got to add more
training to the list of shit I'm not going to get done.”

I
shake my head and think how nice it would be to go back to this
morning, when I woke up in bed with Cole. I didn't have the chance to
be angry with him about going dark on me. I was so happy to see him,
feel him there. Then, where did he go?

With how I'm feeling, I
really just want to be close to him. Smell his scent and hear the
warm timbre of his voice telling me that everything will be okay
while he strokes my hair. I get my phone and send him a text.

Hey, was good seeing
you this morning. Could really use a friend right now. ~Claire

I put the phone on the
counter and get in the shower. The grime and blood wash down the
drain; if only my sins would swirl away with them. There's just
something in me that knows that what I did this afternoon was right.
Not letting the fighting continue was correct.

I get out of the shower
and get dressed, checking my phone at least four times. Nothing, no
response. “So we're back to that?” I say it out loud, and
just want to throw the phone against the wall. “Screw it, I
don't need him.”
Liar
, sounds off in my head.

Plopping down on my
bed, I try to decide if I want to go downstairs and deal with the
mess or get some rest. I'm exhausted, sad, and, in general, have
nothing for anyone. I don't want to move from this spot, but I really
need my boys. But they aren't here.

Opening my bedroom door
reveals absolute silence in the house. I venture out of my room and
down the stairs; the only sound is the washer and dryer humming away
in the laundry room.

The furniture has been
moved back into place and the house is pretty clean. I'm relieved,
but I'm sure that I'll need to go through and do another scrubbing of
bloodstains. The kitchen is mostly clean and the dishwasher is
running. The smell of blood hits me in the face when I walk out onto
the back porch. The yard is still a mess. I have no idea how I'm
going to clean it. Eyeing the hose next to the house, I decide to run
the sprinklers. I set it all up and turn on the hose. Footfalls in
the woods draw my attention. It's not a wolf-borne.

A hunter I recognize
comes into the yard. He's an older man, probably Hayden's age. “Hey
there, I'm Brent. Sorry if I disturbed you. There are three of us
patrolling the area.”

“No, you're
fine.” I smile. “Where is everyone?”

“Most folks had
to get back. There were a lot of human kills last night.” He
pulls his lips to the side.

I shake my head, unable
to wrap my brain around it. “It has to stop.”

“It does.”
He shakes his head. “The forestry service has issued a warning,
and it looks like they are going to be going on a hunt of their own,
trying to find the feral wolves doing all of the killing.”

“This is bad.”
My eyes widen.

“Yes, it is.”
For some reason, he can't look me in the eye. “I'm going to get
back to my patrol. We're going to make sure no wolves get through the
perimeter.”

“What about –”
He stops me.

“We know about
the boys. Rain said they know what to do if they want to come home.”

I turn and go back into
the house. Brogan's jacket hangs on the coat rack; there's been no
time to process what I did. The silence in the house is amplified by
grief, and I don't want to be alone right now. Checking my phone will
only frustrate me. There won't be any messages.

None.

Eyeing my wrist, I know
it's time to add to my tattoo. It doesn't feel right to make Brogan
just another crescent. He was so much more to me. He was my family,
my brother. I love him. Tears spill from my eyes and the sobs crash
against my chest. I fall to the floor, heavy with sadness and pain.
My cries travel through the house, their echo my only answer. Never
in my life have I ever felt so alone.

Where's Locke?

There's no way I have
myself together enough to try to call any of them. I need to be
strong and move through this. We all knew it was a possibility that
this could happen, and Brogan even said himself that he wanted me to
end his pain if he became infected. It doesn't matter how much I try
to rationalize my duty, it doesn't hurt any less. It may actually
hurt more.

I recover from my sobs
and head downstairs to start my new tattoo. I draw out a full moon,
connecting links from the crescents and giving it a shadowy filigree
star.

Every moment that goes by in
your absence makes me not want to take my next breath, so that my
heart will stop beating.

It's
been three days since I've seen the boys.

The rain has been
falling since I had to put Brogan down, keeping me from putting a
tribute to him in the family graveyard. I still need to order his
headstone, but I'd like to bury his ashes and put up a temporary
marker. I've often wondered why we do this, why people need to know
where we've put our dead. They aren't there anymore; it is just a
shell, the vessel they traveled in for this lifetime. Yet here I am,
going to dig a hole to put a portion of his ashes in for my own
comfort.

Now if only I could
bury myself with him to stop feeling.

The porch is sad and
lonely; all of the boy's seats are empty, and the planters remain
dim. No surprise there. Anger flares in me and I have to stuff it
down. It might be nice if someone would at least call me to make sure
I'm okay. Apparently it's just one of the downfalls of being a
capable woman; everyone thinks you're always okay. But sometimes it
would be nice to know that someone cared.

I grab the shovel and
head to the graveyard with the small wooden grave marker that I made.
The ground is so damp that digging takes no time at all.

The clay pot that Aunt
Rain made is fitting for an urn. I painted Brogan's name on the side
and attempted to put some designs on it. Clutching it in my arms like
a newborn baby, there's a part of me that doesn't want to put him in
the ground. It's so final.

“Brogan, my dear
friend. My life was better with you in it.” I kneel down closer
to the hole, lowering him in. Tears spill over. “I'm so sorry
your life had to end this way. It's my hope that we will meet again
in another place not plagued by the troubles of this world.”

I cover the hole and
take a moment to reflect on how it feels, knowing that a big piece of
my heart is in that clay pot. I may never feel whole again, never
recover from having been the one to put him down. I try to keep my
sobs quiet, since there are so many hunters patrolling the woods to
keep me safe. That's a laugh, when I really don't care if I live or
die. This life feels so pointless, as though the only thing it's
about is how much pain
it will take to break me completely. This
pretty much does it. No matter how strong everyone tells me I am, I'm
just not. I'm damaged, hurt, and just as lost - if not more so - than
everyone else.

With a hammer, I drive
the marker into the dirt. The feeling of a wolf-borne approaching has
me on alert. Ben comes around from the front of the house. “Hey,
Claire.” He greets me with a smile.