Beneath a Darkening Moon

  "I can't hear anything,” René commented.

  "No. But these people were responsible for bombing the diner. If this is a trap, then that's certainly a possibility."

  René studied him for a moment, and then he nodded toward the hut. “There's a small window out the back. Last time I was here, it had been boarded over, but I know there was talk of restoring the place for the ski season."

  "Let's skirt the trees, and see if there are any surprises waiting there for us first."

  René nodded and led the way through the trees. The hut looked much the same from the other side of the clearing, with the exception of a door and a window. Neither was boarded up, and there didn't seem to be anything out of place in the old building.

  Cade drew his gun anyway. “Wait here while I check it out."

  René snorted. “Yeah, right."

  "I'm serious."

  "So am I. If things go down bad, I'm of more use to you there than here."

  His cop half inclined to argue, but instinct suggested that René had it right. If things did go bad, he was going to need help. His foe might be two women, but those women were currently running rings around them, and every single step had been meticulously planned with the exception of Candy, who'd obviously let her bloodlust get in the way of what she was supposed to do. But one mistake that played to their advantage didn't mean there would be more.

  "Keep watch then, while I check the window."

  René nodded. Crouching to present less of a target, Cade ran for the back of the hut. René followed him over, but stopped at the opposite end of the back wall.

  "Clear here,” René said, after peering cautiously around the corner.

  Cade edged around the side of the hut and carefully made his way to the window. There was no sound, other than the distant rumble of thunder, and no unusual smells riding the air. Yet, his instincts burned with the sensation that something was off, that something was about to happen.

  He peered through the grimy glass. The hut was small, with little more than a cot, several chairs and a table. The fireplace across the far side of the room looked recently used, with the wood in the hearth still glowing—though the heat was obviously fading.

  Why would the women who'd so ruthlessly castrated two men light a fire to keep Ike warm?

  They wouldn't. They'd only do it for themselves, which meant someone had to have been close by when Ike escaped. And they'd let him. Tension rode across his muscles, and it was all he could do not to swing around and scan the tree line.

  He'd been in far worse situations than this, so why was he so damn jumpy now?

  Because for the first time, it was personal. And for the first time, he actually had something to lose other than just his life.

  He glanced over his shoulder. René was crouched near the corner and studying the tree line intently.

  "Anything?"

  "Startled bird to our right.” René's sharp gaze met his. “Could be nothing."

  And it could be something. “You armed?"

  René's sudden grin was answer enough. Definitely insane, these Sinclairs.

  "Be careful. I'm going in."

  René nodded and returned his gaze to the forest. Cade rose and turned the doorhandle. After ensuring there were no wires attached anywhere, he pushed the door wide open. The smell of smoke and wood rushed out to greet him, along with a staleness that suggested the cabin had been closed for long periods of time. If Jina or Anni, or whatever her real damn name was, was staying here, she obviously didn't believe in airing the place out.

  He stepped inside, keeping his back to the wall and his gun at the ready as he scanned the small room. Nothing. Not even the ropes Ike was supposedly bound in.

  Frowning and feeling more and more like things were very wrong, he walked across to the small cot. The blankets were stacked in a neat pile at the end of the bed. Ike certainly wouldn't have bothered, and it was doubtful his captors would have cleaned up after him. Nor was there any sign of blood on the mattress itself. There would have been if Ike had lain there.

  He looked around the room. No blood spots anywhere else, either.

  Ike hadn't woken up here. Hadn't been here.

  He rubbed a hand across his eyes. Christ, why hadn't he checked the kid for signs of psychic intrusion? If Candy had shields strong enough to keep him out, it was a fair bet that either she, or the other bitches in this game, had strong psychic skills. Strong enough to imprint false memories into the kid's mind, anyway.

  "René?” he said softly.

  "Yeah?"

  "It's a trap."

  "Fantastic."

  Cade wasn't entirely sure whether that was meant sarcastically. “See anything?"

  "Nope."

  He walked to the side of the door and peered out. The forest around the clearing was still. Perhaps a little too still.

  "What's the quickest way out of here?"

  "Run like hell for the main trail. Harder to hit running targets."

  "But not impossible.” He had hit running targets. He suspected their hunters might be able to, too. Why let them walk into the hut and discover the lie if they weren't sure of the outcome? Or the fact that they could bring their quarry down?

  "Are we to be wolf targets or human targets?” René continued.

  He hesitated. As wolves they would be faster, but in human form they could at least use their weapons. “Human. You watch left; I'll watch right.” He paused, scanning the tree line a second time. Still nothing. “You ready?"

  "As I'll ever be."

  "Then let's go."

  He ducked out the doorway and ran for the trail and the trees, keeping low to present less of a target. René was one step ahead of him, his head turned slightly left, watching the trees as directed.

  Neither of them saw their attackers.

  All Cade felt was a sharp sting in his side. He looked down to see the dart imbedded though his sweater, into his skin, heard René's curse and knew he'd been hit as well. Saw him stumble, as if his legs had gone out from beneath him.

  Cade grabbed his arm and tried to force him on, to run them both out of there. But the strength seemed to drain from his legs and his vision seemed to spin. The only place either of them went was straight to the ground.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Savannah eased the motel room's door open and peered outside. No car stood in the parking space outside the next room, yet she could still be hear movement inside. Whoever it was, they obviously thought they weren't going to be caught, as they were making little attempt to be quiet.

  Maybe Candy's attack was planned. Maybe it was meant to be a diversion of some kind.

  The thought sent another chill down her spine, though she wasn't entirely sure why. She eased past the door and padded quietly to the next room. The curtains had been drawn, so there was no chance to peer inside. She'd have to go in.

  She drew her gun, wishing it was the real thing rather than just a dart gun. Ripple Creek didn't get a whole lot of nasty criminals visiting, and the council's ruling that only tranquilizer weapons be used by rangers generally made sense. Except in situations like this where they were dealing with nutcases who had little more than murder on their minds. She'd have to talk to her dad and get him to insert some type of clause giving them the option to use real firearms, if needed. Not that the station actually had any at the moment, but she and Ronan did. She'd never used hers and hoped she never had to, but it was there just in case.

  She clicked the dart's safety off. The soft sound seemed to ricochet like thunder, and inside the room, the movement stopped.

  Savannah waited, tension winding through her limbs, until every muscle felt so tightly sprung they surely had to snap. For several seconds, she didn't even dare breathe.

  Inside, footsteps retreated. A second later came the sound of a window sliding open. She took a step forward and stopped. If the intruder had heard the sound of the safety clicking off, then she'd surely have realized that the sound of a window slidi
ng open would also carry. And maybe Savannah was meant to react to it.

  She pressed back against the wall and waited. For too many minutes, nothing happened. Her knuckles ached with the fierceness of her grip on the gun, and sweat began to trickle down her spine.

  Then the curtain moved. Not much, just enough for someone to peer out. Savannah pressed herself harder against the wall and hoped like hell the angle would prevent her from being seen.

  Inside the room, movement resumed. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, stepped back and aimed a kick at the door.

  The flimsy lock gave way with little resistance, and the door crashed back. Inside, someone cursed, and there was a blur of movement as someone ran. Not at her, but away.

  "Ripple Creek Ranger,” Savannah said, even as she aimed the weapon at the fleeing woman. “Stop or I'll shoot."

  Lonny didn't stop, so Savannah followed through with her threat. The dart hissed through the air just as the woman was retreating into the bathroom, striking her in the rump. There was a yelp, a hiss of anger, and then Lonny ran screaming out of the bathroom and straight at Savannah.

  She managed to fire another shot, and then the woman was on her, all fury and muscle accompanied by a sickly-sweet smell. The momentum of her attack hit with the force of a truck, and the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Savannah grunted as her back caught the door frame, but it was Lonny who took the brunt of their weight as they crashed to the floor. But she didn't react, just kept on punching, her breath short and sharp, her eyes wide and her pupils dilated.

  High on something, Savannah thought, as she tried to grab the other woman's arm and, simultaneously, tried to avoid most of her blows, which was all but impossible. She caught one wrist, holding it tight and half-noting the bandages, until a blow to her cheek had her senses reeling. Lonny chuckled, her voice low but filled with a coldness that sent a chill down Savannah's spine. She blinked away the pain, felt the breeze of a follow-up blow coming, and leaned back as far as she could without losing her grip on Lonny's wrist. Something sharp skimmed her chin, drawing blood, and out of nowhere, anger surged. Or maybe it had always been there, and she'd merely controlled it up until now. Either way, enough was enough. She might be a ranger, but she was also the target of these mad women. It was about time she started fighting back. To hell with the rules and her own personal restrictions. These women had to be stopped any damn way they could be stopped, or someone she loved might end up paying the price.

  She gathered her psychic forces and punched into Lonny's mind. She hit a shield—a strong shield—but it held none of the strength of Candy's shields and certainly wasn't strong enough to keep her out. Lonny's eyes widened and fear replaced the cunning contempt that had been so evident up until now. And even though Lonny tried to shore up her defenses, it was far too late. Savannah wrapped a psychic hand around the other woman's mind and squeezed lightly.

  "Stop,” she said.

  Lonny stilled instantly, but the fear in her eyes grew. “You can't do this."

  "Says who?” She rose and scrubbed a hand across her bleeding chin as she looked around the room. What had Lonny been doing here?

  Lonny didn't say anything, and Savannah looked down at her. “Answer the question."

  "Jina says."

  "Why? Because I'm a ranger?"

  "Because you haven't any psychic strength."

  Savannah raised her eyebrows as she knelt near the bed. No psychic strength? When she came from the golden pack? “And you won't tell her I have, will you?” She made it an order and enforced it, not only blocking the knowledge from anyone who might make psychic contact with Lonny, but also preventing her from talking to anyone else about it.

  "Why on earth would you think something like that?” she asked, once she was done.

  Lonny didn't answer immediately, so Savannah applied a little more psychic pressure. Lonny cursed, and sweat broke out across her brow. “Jontee told Jina. And she checked herself."

  Jontee told Jina? How, when Jina had never been anywhere near Rosehall? Then it clicked. Jina—Anni—was the sister Jontee had once mentioned. The sister he'd been psychically in contact with; the sister who was going to make everything right.

  "When?” Certainly it was something she'd never felt. And she would have, if Anni had tried to probe her psychically.

  "She didn't have to test. She could read your day to day thoughts with ease."

  Savannah snorted. Obviously, Anni didn't know much about the golden pack, or she would have realized that most them didn't bother keeping full shields up unless they were actually with another wolf from the pack.

  She pulled up the bed sheets, looked underneath, and discovered what Lonny had been doing—planting another bomb. It didn't look as if it had been set, but what she knew about bombs could have been noted on her fingertip. Nor did she trust Lonny enough to force her to take it out. Any woman that attacked rather than run was mad enough to set off a bomb and kill them both.

  She let the cover drop back down. “Why blow up IIS officers? That'll only bring on the wrath of the organization."

  Lonny shrugged. “No witnesses, no tales, no trails."

  Her words came out slightly slurred, and Savannah glanced around. Lonny was struggling to keep her eyes open. Obviously the two darts were finally taking affect. She'd better get her to the car, or she'd end up having to carry her.

  "Get up,” she ordered.

  As Lonny struggled upright, Savannah placed a quick call to Anton to warn him about the bomb.

  "Bastards,” he said, voice edged with a mix of tiredness and anger. “We're just about finished here. Ronan will report for us, if that's okay. Trista and I need to eat after we take care of that bomb.” He hesitated. “You heard from the boss?"

  "No.” And the reminder that she hadn't caused concern to spear through her heart again. Something was very wrong.

  "I'll call him, then.” He hesitated again, and then added, “It might be best if you keep someone with you until Cade returns. I don't like the feel of things right now."

  That made two of them. “I will."

  She hung up and marched Lonny to her truck. The blonde was all but asleep on her feet by the time they'd gotten there, forcing Savannah to lift her up and buckle her in. But at least it meant she could release her grip on Lonny's mind.

  Or most of it, any way. She still kept a mental finger on the pulse, so to speak, just in case Anni or Candy tried to make contact with Lonny. She jumped into driver's seat and headed for the Ranger's Station. Ronan pulled up as she did. He looked as bad as she'd ever seen him, his clothes disheveled and face drawn.

  "You look like shit,” she said softly, as she climbed out of her truck.

  He scrubbed a hand through his damp, dirt-caked hair. “That's because I feel like shit.” He shook his head, and his gaze, when it met hers, was haunted. “I never, ever, want to see something like that again. Never want to feel anything like that again."

  Oh God. She'd forgotten he could sometimes sense lingering emotions in the air, even though he wasn't actually empathic.

  "I'm sorry,” she whispered, and hugged him.

  He held her so tightly it felt as if he was squeezing the breath from her lungs, but there was nothing sexual in it. Just one close friend taking much needed comfort from another.

  After a few minutes, he blew out a breath and pulled back. “Thanks,” he said softly, then his gaze went past her. “Who's that in the truck?"

  "Lonny.” She studied him for a moment, seeing tension in the set of his shoulders. The muscle ticking near his jaw. He was controlling the horror, but only just. “You going to be all right tonight?"

  "Yeah. After a drink or two.” He shrugged. “You want a hand getting her inside?"

  "Yes.” She hesitated. “You sure you don't want me to fudge your memories enough for you to sleep?"

  He smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “Thanks, but I'm okay. Really,” he added, when she lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.
“Let's get that woman into a cell with her sister."

  They carried Lonny inside, but the minute they were through the door, Savannah knew something had happened. There was a coldness, a stillness, to the air that wasn't usually there, and it sent a chill of apprehension running through her limbs.

  "She's been here,” Ronan said, voice sharp.

  She glanced at him. “Anni?"

  He nodded. “Recently."

  Her gaze went to Kel. “Has Anni Jones been—” She stopped, noticing for the first time the curious blankness in their assistant's eyes.

  "Fuck,” Ronan said softly. “What do you want to bet that Candy is no longer our prisoner?"

  "Odds on, I'd say,” Savannah replied softly. “You all right to take Lonny to the cells?"

  He nodded and shifted his grip to take the woman's full weight. Savannah walked around the desk and squatted in front of their still admin assistant.

  "Kel?” she said, touching the other woman's knee lightly.

  Kel blinked, but her eyes were still curiously blank as she said, “I have a message."

  It was Kel's voice, and yet it wasn't. She reached out psychically, gently probing Kel's mind. It was being held by another, and though she dare not probe any deeper for fear of being detected, it didn't take a genius to guess who that other person might be.

  "What was the message, Kel?"

  "Be at the clearing where the first victim was found by eight, or else your not-so-charming lover or your sister's brother-in-law will be the next victim."

  Fear stepped fully into heart, and for several seconds she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Then the anger rose again, and the force of it swept the fear away. How dare Anni threaten her family, her man, and attempt to make them pay for something that had happened long ago. Something that was always going to end badly for the people involved in the true madness of Rosehall.