Samantha Moon 38: Winter Moon by J.R. Rain

Author:J.R. Rain [Rain, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Once again, my inner alarm pings ever so softly. No surprise there, I have a werewolf with a shotgun likely trained between my shoulder blades.

Exactly what’s going on here, I’m not sure. As far as my spidey senses are concerned, we are alone, though there’s always the chance someone could be lurking in a basement or back room, not moving or even breathing.

But I doubted it.

The house was small, and sort of reeked of solitary residency. Not smell-wise. More evidence-wise. For instance, there’s just one bowl in the kitchen dish rack next to the sink. One set of sneakers near the front door. A single chair in front of the TV. A couch that looks barely used. One glass sitting on the coffee table. The house is decorated with simple Southwest art on the walls, old rugs on the floor, and a musky scent that I know all too well.

A werewolf lived here.

And yeah... that ripe smell might be something rotting in, say, the basement. Perhaps the remains of local wildlife... or a human victim. Hard to know sometimes. My guess is... she’s of the putrid preference variety. That is, weres who prefer spoiled meat, rather than fresh. Unfortunately for me, Kingsley is of the former. I couldn’t be more grossed out that my main squeeze engorged on rotten meat each month. In his basement cell, of course. Alone. Like a true ghoul. Lucky for him, I’m not that squeamish anymore. Drinking blood for over a decade does that to a girl.

A door just off to the side of the living leads to either a storage room or a cellar. Since a werewolf lives here, I’m leaning toward a cellar.

“You can put your hands down,” says Iliza. “I’ve already put the gun away.”

I lower my arms, turning. The weapon is leaning near the front door. As she walks past me, looking me directly in the eye, I see two things: First, is the familiar amber tint all werewolves seem to have. (Kingsley has more than a tint, which makes me wonder if the eyes get more amber over time, just as their bodies grow a little with each turning.) Second, I see is the single flame in the center of her pupil... always an indicator of possession by a dark master. I’m told that the flame is now gone from my eye, which makes sense, since Elizabeth is gone, too. Long gone.

(Curiously, I only caught snatches of the flame in Anthony’s eye, back when his father, on the run from the devil, briefly hid within his own son. Maybe it was because Danny wasn’t a full-fledged dark master yet? Hard to know.)

Sporting the flame meant the woman wasn’t a new werewolf. Given the glint of amber in her iris, I’m leaning toward she hadn’t been turned centuries ago, either.

“He hired you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did,” I say. “That is if you are referring to who I think you’re referring.”

“Jack fucking Frost.”

“That would be the one.” As a rule of thumb, I don’t divulge the names of my clients.

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