moon dance by j.r. rain

Author:j.r. rain
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: richelle mead, rachel caine, kim harrison, speculative fiction, tess gerritsen, sherrilyn kenyon, jim butcher, christine feehan, james patterson, kelley armstrong, stieg larsson, dean koontz, patricia briggs, janet evanovich, laurell k hamilton, jr ward, pc cast, stephenie meyer, charlaine harris, john gilstrap, nora roberts
ISBN: 0557175216
Publisher: lulu.com
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

37.

“You home?” I asked.

“Of course I’m home,” said Kingsley, “it’s two-thirty in the goddamn morning.”

“Don’t sound so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? If anything I sound tired.”

“I’m coming over. Where do you live?”

There was a long pause. I wondered if Kingsley had fallen back to sleep. Then a thought occurred to me, maybe he had a woman with him. If so, I didn’t care. I wanted to talk, and not with a mortal. Either way, last night had been the full moon, so tonight Kingsley should be his old self.

“Okay,” he said, and gave me directions. “Oh, and remind me when you get here that there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“That makes two of us.”

Kingsley lived in Yorba Linda, just a few cities over. At a quarter to three, I drove east down Bastanchury Blvd. The night was still and quiet. To my left were empty rolling hills. Beyond was the county dump, well hidden from curious eyes and sensitive noses.

Here on Bastanchury was some of the best Orange County had to offer. Beautiful homes slightly removed from the hustle and bustle of the county.

I turned left into a long driveway, drove through a tangle of shrubbery along a crushed seashell drive. The seashell drive, reflecting the near full moon, was as bright as a yellow brick road to my eyes. The driveway continued for perhaps an eighth of a mile, until it curved before a massive estate house.

I parked in front of the portico, and briefly admired the huge structure. It was a Colonial revival, complete with two flanker structures on either end. Nearly the entire facade was covered in dark clapboard, and the windows were enclosed with paneled shutters. All in all, a fitting home for a werewolf.

Shortly after I rang the bell, a porch light turned on and a very tall and dour man appeared at the door, who looked down at me from a hawkish nose. He was frowning. Probably wasn’t in his job description to be receiving guests at 3:00 a.m. There was something disjointed and odd about the man. It took me a second to realize what it was. One ear was clearly larger than the other.

“This way,” he said. “Master Kingsley is waiting in the conservatory.”

“With Professor Plum and the candlestick?” I asked.

Big Ear was not amused.

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