kissed-by-moonlight - Rakhibul hasan (interesting books to read .TXT) 📗

in the outdoors than your average Were.

 

So while the sound of the alarms weren’t much of a surprise, learning that they were actually under attack certainly was. Unlike some of his fellow agents, he didn’t panic. Instead, he pulled out his standard issue side arm, and looked out across the rows of cells. He wanted the wolves to come. Craved it even. It was one thing to train to fight the supernatural. He wanted to put all that he had learned into practice.

 

And what better way than to put down the sniveling mutts coming to save their friends?

 

Chuckling, Elijah Walker turned to make his way up to the first floor, checking to make sure that there was already a silver bullet ready and waiting in the chamber of his gun as he went.

 

* * * *

 

Gabriel Evans was a big fan of silence.

 

Silence soothed his savage beast.

 

Silence is what made the world go round.

 

Most Weres would disagree. They were always talking, yapping, growling, howling. They were always making so much noise. “I am here” their useless prattling seemed to say. “Don’t forget me. I exist.”

 

He supposed that he could understand them on a certain level. He had spent so many years in the background, barely existing, that his own kind had nicknamed him “Ghost.” He may as well have been dead and gone. Gabriel had known for a long time that the other Hell Hounds who shared the title of Alpha thought of him as a bit strange. A bit off.

 

But it was like the humans said.

 

Never drag a book by its cover.

 

Or was it never judge a brook by its color?

 

He couldn’t remember.

 

Old adages weren’t exactly his strong suit.

 

What he did know, was that he was no ghost. He was not invisible. He was not unseen. He was not dead. Even when he’d been partially faded, when his abilities had made him shy away after attacking the Huntsman in his building that day, she had been able to see him.

 

To look him in the eye and feel him.

 

It had been like magic.

 

Like finding a home port when he’d been lost at sea for far too long. Even his adoptive mother, who had claimed to love him, had been unable to lay eyes on him when his magic had demanded otherwise. It wasn’t as if he’d been fully using his ability. If they had really wanted to, they could have seen past the shield of his glamour.

 

But they hadn’t.

 

Only Phaedra had ever been able to do so, and she’d pulled it off without even trying. As if she’d been searching for him long before they first laid eyes on one another. He’d seen many things in his life, both strange and wondrous, but Phaedra Conners was by far his favorite.

 

Shame that he’d had to go and get kidnapped.

 

He hoped she’d found his final farewell dashing.

 

Heroic.

 

When she wept over the memory of him, years from now as some old decrepit human, he hoped that their parting was cast in the soft glow of nostalgia. That to her age-addled mind, he appeared a golden Adonis or majestic Hercules bidding her the type of farewell best suited to star-crossed lovers.

 

Yes, he liked the thought of her being heartbroken and lovesick very much.

 

Not that he was going to continue to enjoy the company of Agent Liam.

 

He’d gotten what he’d come for after all.

 

Information.

 

Information about what the government wanted from his kind and whether or not his second in command and foster brother could truly be trusted.

 

Oh yes, he’d gotten all the information he could stomach on that front.

 

But even though he planned on leaving soon, and taking his Pack with him, that didn’t mean that he’d be seeing Phaedra again. It was why he was currently doing his best to kill their bond. She had been right. It was time to stop running. To fight. If he didn’t he’d spend the rest of his considerable lifespan hiding from the Fae. But standing up to the Mad Sidhe wouldn’t be easy.

 

He liked many things about Phaedra, the first and foremost being that she was alive.

 

If he could help it, he’d like to keep her that way. And staying with him, fighting his battles, would pretty much guarantee the opposite.

 

But he really, really wanted to see her again.

 

He whined, a low, sad sound in the back of his throat, and huddled against the walls of his prison. The collar at his neck dug deep and he had to fight away the urge to snarl and tear at his own skin in a bid to get the damn thing off.

 

No.

 

He had to stay calm.

 

Captivity could breed madness, and Gabriel couldn’t afford to lose control.

 

When he lost control things died, and he’d had his fill of screaming when he’d worked for the Sidhe. Though when he thought of Agent Liam, of Marcus, he couldn’t help but believe that adding a few more bloody notches to his belt couldn’t hurt. Just for old time’s sake.

 

Suddenly, he straightened in his shackles, eyes going to the ceiling and head cocking curiously to one side. It was faint at first, but there was no mistaking that sound.

 

Alarms. And beyond that? Howling.

 

One voice in particular rose up above the rest, and in his pleasure Gabriel found himself laughing out loud.

 

“Leo Valentine,” he whispered hoarsely into the dark confines of his cell. “You old bastard. What took you so long?”

 

“He was right, the woods are lovely. Dark. Deep. But I’m all out of promises. I have nothing left to keep.”

 

—Ruthy Jennings

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

 

 

 

“Fee, fie, foe, fum.” I never finish the rhyme because my prey tries to flee at the sound of my voice. I enjoy catching them.

 

One by one by one, they all fall down.

 

I rip apart a human male and it’s like tearing the wings off a butterfly. Only the human is more fun because I can hear the sounds it makes while it dies.

 

“What the hell was that thing?” A hoarse cry. Full of terror. I hum in pleasure and electronics burst like overworked eardrums.

 

“I don’t know. But it came out of the dark. We need more lights.”

 

“More lights, more lights,” I mock, crawling along the ground, inch by inch, vertebrae twisting and jaw unhinging. My belly craves food.

 

Human flesh.

 

Human pain.

 

Human suffering.

 

It all tastes the same.

 

The one I have my eye on smells ripe and ready. A fruit juicy and bloody red on the inside. Veins like pulp and bones like sugar.

 

The Sidhe struggle to rein the Specter in. So far away, the creature is hard to control. But its masters only have one goal in mind, and they make that very clear.

 

“Find the wolf,” I grumble, bitter at the thought of a lost meal. Lights flood the hall and I take refuge in the shadow of the human I’d been about to eat. Maybe I will be allowed to feed once the job is done.

 

Find the wolf.

 

The thought rings through my brain. Louder and louder as the Sidhe repeat their orders. I will find the wolf. I will hunt the wolf, and I will drag it kicking and screaming back to our masters trapped beneath the Sithin. For now, I will watch. Wait. Enjoy the sight of the Weres I arrived with ripping through the first line of defense the humans have erected. When the wolves tire, when they miss one of their enemies, only then will I reveal myself long enough to kill. I must control myself. Taking the wolf will require most of my strength.

 

Blood sprays across a nearby wall, a rainbow of red mist. This time it is not the Mad Sidhe that pull the Specter’s mind from feasting on the carcasses the Were’s create. The voice that forces it to behave is both familiar and strange.

 

Find Gabriel, the human female snaps, her grip on the Specter’s mind strengthening with each moment that passes. The Mad Sidhe can’t hear her, but they can hear the Specter’s all too eager agreement.

 

“Find Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel,” I cackle. I am delighted with the company in my mind. It gets lonely in there, in the dark. It’s nice having someone to talk to. Most of the humans I possess simply fade away. Too weak. All of them, too weak. “Find Gabriel,” I coo, and the human female buried deep within my thoughts is pleased.

 

* * * *

 

The humans are on the run now.

 

They scatter like leaves in the wind. No direction, no tether, only fear to guide them.

 

The wolves have taken out most of their numbers and I have done the rest. I swallow the lights as soon as they think to turn them on. The electricity from their machines is tasty too. Like candy on the tip of my tongue. In the world below, the world of the dead, I used to gorge myself on flames. Lightning didn’t taste as sweet, but packed twice the punch. The voltage the humans seemed so proud of was nothing but a light snack in comparison.

 

Without it to power their little trinkets they cannot communicate with one another. They cannot tell the others that danger comes. Then it’s too late and danger is there. Tearing through flesh and howling of their triumph.

 

The wolves have always been fun to watch.

 

So messy and loud.

 

Like furry children.

 

The human whose shadow I ride is scrambling through their fortress. Running down stairs rather than risk being caught in the moving coffins they call elevators. I would have left him, stolen his shadow and taken his soul along with it, but the woman tells me to stay. That maybe he will bring us to the one we both seek.

 

Gabriel.

 

And he does. Oh joy, oh breathless rapture, he does. It’s all I can do not to whip down the hallway to reach him first. To touch him. To swallow him whole. The woman holds me back again. Together we watch the man walk past rows and rows of cells. Each one holding a Were. It is towards the back, in the last cell, that we see who we’ve come for. Gabriel looks up at the man and there is a smile on his face.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks and the Specter chuckles. The lights flicker ominously and Gabriel’s eyes dart to them before falling to rest on what he can see of Agent Elijah Walker’s shadow. He frowns, but the Agent is too busy talking to notice.

 

“I don’t know how you did it, how you brought them here, but call them off.”

 

Gabriel hesitates, wondering if he should warn Agent Walker of the danger he’s in. Then he remembers what the man did to his wolves. He remembers that he is one member short now, and he settles back. Almost gleeful at the prospect of what the Specter will do to Walker once it tires of playing follow the leader.

 

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug and a devil may care grin. He is not sorry at all, and they all know it. “There’s really nothing I can do.”

 

The human is enraged, scared; I can feel it vibrating through his shadow and into my skin. My stomach growls, twisting like a wild, angry thing. The man steps forward, grips the bars with both hands and the threat in his voice is born of a deep, and all consuming hatred.

 

“Call. Them. Off,” he hisses, and the Specter convulses. So hungry. “Do it now, or I’ll play a little song for your Pack that will have them dropping like flies.”

 

Gabriel growls, face momentarily contorting into something monstrous and dark. Just as quickly, he is under control again and he sends Agent Walker a sly look from the corner of his eye.

 

“Something tells me that if you could have, you would have done it already. I don’t think you have the clearance to play with your little toy when your masters aren’t watching.” His eyes grow dark and his smile is a quick baring of oh-so-sharp teeth. “Don’t make threats you can’t follow through on. It just pisses people off.”

 

“You shit-eating son of a bitch.”

 

Rage, rage, rage. The