Eclipsed Hearts

Plans and Papers

[Bailey]

Ian was silent as we looked through the things in the office. We made sure not to touch too much. Werewolves had sensitive senses of smell, and we needed to make sure the werewolf we were hunting wouldn’t scent us if he came back before we found him.

As I rifled through the file cabinet, a thought occurred to me. How had Ian known where to find me? Had he busted into every room?

No, that couldn’t be right, or there would have been a lot of angry people coming after him unless he didn’t actually stop anything. If he was a minor interruption, they would have likely let it go. It was surprising that the Petersons didn't pursue us when Ian took me from them. They looked offended, but it seemed like they didn’t have any fight in them when it came to the strapping hunter.

I had to admit; he looked as good out of his clothes as he did in them. Mrs. Peterson definitely must have enjoyed herself. I smiled to myself as I continued to search in the dimly lit room.

Ian suddenly let out a low whistle, drawing my attention. He was holding a leather-bound journal, flipping through the pages with a furrowed brow.

“Check this out,” he murmured, holding the journal out for me to see.

Handwritten notes, strange symbols, and detailed accounts of werewolf activity in the area filled the pages. At least, I was assuming it was werewolf activity since he used an old symbol that indicated werewolf. It appeared he was stalking a family of wolves.

“That’s strange,” I whispered as I showed Ian the page I was looking at. “Why would he be stalking a werewolf family?”

“How do you know it’s a family?” Ian asked as he took the journal from me and stared at it intently.

“Packs are bigger. I mean this is obviously some sort of rogue family. There is a large, dominant male, a dominant female who must be his mate, and a submissive male who probably serves as some sort of slave or ѕexual substitute if either of the dominants isn’t in the mood. Then there are like twelve kids,” I replied, pointing out the marks.

“How can you read that?”

“It’s retired hunter code from the seventeenth century. Didn’t your family ever teach you?”

“No. I wasn’t supposed to be a hunter. My family didn’t want this life for me. But when they died, I needed to live and I needed to get revenge. Becoming a hunter was the only way to take care of my responsibilities,” he answered.

I put a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. He lost his family in the same way I did. We bonded in that, at least. I felt terrible for him.

Ian pulled away from me and went back to flipping through the book. Our fleeting moment had come and gone swiftly. I knew I needed to give up on the idea of Ian being a friend in any way.

“Put your fuсking dress on properly,” he growled.

I glared at him, feeling a mixture of anger and hurt at his harsh tone. Swallowing back my retort, I untied the dress from around my waist and put it on. The fabric felt suddenly uncomfortable against my skin. The tension between us was palpable now, overshadowing the excitement of our discovery in the werewolf’s office.

“This is bad,” Ian muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I didn’t see any indication they would be a problem for you to take care of,” I said, as I turned back to the filing cabinet.

“Of course, you would think you would have the right to kill children.”

“They’re not children. They’re monsters. Just like the one we’re hunting. They’ll grow up to be killers,” I scoffed and opened up a drawer.

“Monsters?” Ian spat, his expression darkening. “You really think that, huh?”

He slammed the journal down on the desk, making me jump. The pages rustled with the impact. I turned and scowled at him.

“Can you be quiet? We’re going to get caught if you keep up this fuсking tantrum,” I hissed.

Ian looked at me, his eyes hard and unyielding. “They’re still young ones. They deserve a chance at life just like anyone else.”

I stared back at him, feeling my anger rise. “And what about the lives they’ll take when they grow up? The families they’ll destroy?”

There was no answer other than his glare. I started him down. Ian shook his head and picked up the journal again, turning his back on me.

Asshole.

Not that I enjoyed killing them when they were little. My grandfather and my uncle never sent me on raids in the packs. That was where I drew the line. I couldn’t let other hunters know that, though. They disrespected you if you didn’t agree with them.

Werewolves were killers, but I hoped there was some way to save the children. They hadn’t turned into wolves yet. There had to be a way to stop them from becoming monsters.

A red file caught my eye. I pulled it out of the drawer and looked at it. There were some brochures for an island in Lake Michigan.

The hotel owner owned the island, and only guests and employees were allowed on it. Some brochures were for events and had some things circled. The dates lined up with the next week. It was perfect. If he was there, we wouldn’t have to keep searching around and we could find a time to kill the wolf while we were there or we could get him to invite me to his home after the event.

“Look at this,” I whispered.

Ian came over and took the folder from me. He didn’t even acknowledge me as he pored over the information. Ian continued to flip through the pages, his face set in a grim expression.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“There’s an event. I doubt there’s going to be an open room.”

“So we’re going to give up?”

“No, we’re not giving up,” Ian said firmly, his eyes narrowing in determination. “We’ll find a way onto that island, one way or another.”

He pulled out his phone and took pictures of the folder, brochures, and journal pages. I straightened things up and went to the external door to wait for Ian. He put the folder and journal back and then joined me.

We went out the door and locked it before closing it behind us. That would be the last step in making sure it seemed like the room was untouched. Ian and I snuck through the shadows toward the place we’d parked.

As we made our way back to the parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel a gnawing sense of unease in my gut. My discussion with Ian about the children had stirred up emotions I hadn’t felt in years, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. The air seemed heavier, the night darker than before.

Reaching the car, I hesitated before sliding into the passenger’s seat. I glanced at Ian, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking. He maintained a guarded expression, with flat and unreadable eyes.

Without a word, he buckled his belt and turned on the car, leaving the headlights off. He backed out of the spot slowly and rolled toward the exit gate. There was something that triggered the gates to open when a car reached the gate.

I was grateful for that. When we reached the end of the driveway, he turned on the lights and turned onto the empty road. Staring out the window, I watched the landscape fly past.

Perhaps I was a fool to have hope repeatedly that Ian would start treating me like a partner instead of a hindrance. I was an excellent hunter, but he didn’t seem to trust me. How could he do this after I’d worked hard to help him with this hunt?

“Look, Ian, I know you’re mad. It sounds like your parents had let you have a normal life for longer than mine could. When I was around ten, my family was murdered, so I started hunting to seek revenge. I… I didn’t realize it would sometimes mean killing children. I couldn’t do it. Whenever they asked me to participate in a raid, my answer was always a firm no,” I said softly.

“Never?” he asked. “You never accepted a place in a raid?”

“I’m a good hunter. I can fight and kill. Children, even children of werewolves, can’t really be monsters.”

“Sounds like you’re just trying to placate me. I’m not stupid, Damson.” Ian rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I’m not. I wish I could show you I’m serious. Ian, I really only hunt werewolves who have hurt others. It sounds like you’re the same. You may not realize how rare people like us are in the hunting community,” I replied.

He scoffed and turned up the volume of the radio, trying to drown out my voice.

“Let’s just focus on the mission,” he said gruffly.

I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to scream at him. But I took a deep breath and let it go. We needed to work together, and I needed to prove myself.