Under a Rogue Moon

Chapter 7-1

Chapter 7Jason had been telling her the truth. The man was a night owl, through and through, and dead to the world on the couch when Flanna crept down the stairs the next morning. At her father’s insistence, she let him sleep, resuming her daily schedule at the shop with only trace doubts about leaving Jason alone in their home. She felt foolish when he showed up mid-afternoon, carrying a message that had been left on their answering machine. Apparently, he didn’t feel right picking up a ringing phone that wasn’t his, he said. It was more of an invasion of their privacy than he was willing to currently breach.

Over the next few days, they fell into an easy routine. Flanna worked her usual shifts at the bakery, while Jason slept most of the day through. He rose mid-afternoon and proceeded to look for Dominic Romm, utilizing Colin’s resources and computer in order to do so.

“I’d rather not be surprised when he shows up on your doorstep,” Jason said the first night, when Flanna came home and found him on hold with someone he knew at British Airways. “Or, you know, tearing your door down. It kind of puts a crimp in self-defense.”

His searches came up with nothing, though. In spite of all Jason’s assertions that Romm was a threat, it looked like the man wasn’t even in the country yet.

While their days remained separate, their nights were a different matter entirely. After dinner, he settled with Helen on the couch to watch telly, just as he had the first night. But once she’d gone to bed, he was in the bathroom, changing his clothes, ready for what had become his nightly run with Flanna.

She would never tell him, but Flanna looked forward to those times every night with growing anticipation. They didn’t speak during the run itself, but a mile from the house, they slowed to a walk, using those last few minutes for conversation. He told her what progress he’d made during the day, and she related anecdotes about what happened at the shop. The first time he laughed at one of her stories, Flanna nearly stopped in her tracks. It had never occurred to her that he could enjoy just being around her, could laugh with her instead of at her. Everything shifted after that.

The fifth night after his arrival started the exact same way. Flanna took him down through her favorite paths, enjoying the exhilarating burn along her muscles as her legs and arms pumped up and down. At her side, his breathing was almost a metronome for her, giving her a steady counter to balance their pace, and the few times she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, it took only seconds for him to glance back. She hadn’t felt this safe—or this connected—in a very long time.

At the bottom of the trail that led into town center, however, Jason ground to a halt, frowning as he stared off in the direction of town.

“I knew I’d break you one of these days,” Flanna started to tease, but then stopped when he didn’t even react to the small gibe. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, muscles more rigid than she had ever seen. At his sides, his hands had balled into fists, prompting Flanna to automatically take a step away, and the breathing that had been so rhythmic during their run seemed to have slowed to a dangerous level.

She scanned the horizon, trying to see what had spooked him so badly, but other than the familiar whisper of the wind across the long grasses, she could sense nothing out of order. Except for Jason.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated.

He tore his gaze away from the distance, but the man who looked at her now was not the man she had come to know over the past week. This one sent shivers down her spine from the coldness of his eyes. Flanna finally understood how the reports could label him as dangerous.

Then, within moments of looking at her, his gaze softened, allowing the Jason she recognized to return to the fore. “Did you bring your knife tonight?” he asked.

Flanna stiffened and looked off toward town again. “But we don’t have werewolves in Birley,” she said, confused. “And the full moon isn’t for another two weeks.”

“You don’t need a full moon to have a monster on your hands.”

“But…” She turned to face him again. “How can you tell? Is it nearby? It would have to be. We’re at least three miles from town here.”

“Instinct.” The reply was swift, but he took a step toward her, his eyes intent on hers. “I just know, Flanna. You’re going to have to trust me on this. Now, do you have the knife or not?”

Without looking away, she bent and lifted the leg of her sweats, pulling out the knife she had strapped to her calf. When Jason reached to take it away from her, however, she pulled her hand back.

“I’m going with you,” she said.

“No.”

She started. It wasn’t the response she’d expected. “You can’t stop me.”

“I’d rather not have to try.”

She was half-convinced he was doing it deliberately to piss her off. “Have you forgotten who I am?” she demanded, her voice rising. “I knew what a werewolf looked like before I could pick a cow out of a picture of barnyard animals. I’m not some dilettante you have to humor—”

“It’s not a werewolf.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it is, which is why I’d rather you didn’t come along this time.”

“Why?”

“When was the last time you fought anything other than a werewolf?” Jason asked. When she didn’t respond right away, he went on. “I don’t doubt your abilities, Flanna, but you go out once a month, during the full moon, and hunt one kind of demon. I do this all day, every day. Who’s the equal opportunity killer here? Just face it. I’m better equipped than you are to take care of this.”

Her eyes were hard as she twirled the knife between her fingers. “I’d say you’re not equipped at all.”

Though his mouth opened to argue, it snapped shut again when a shrill scream split the country air. They broke into a run at the same time, their impulse to help greater than their need to fight about it, and together they raced in the sound’s direction. Jason quickly outdistanced her, and Flanna wondered as she pushed her body even faster how much he had been holding back on her.

They didn’t have to run far. Cresting over the nearest hill, he took a sharp left, racing down toward the small cottage at its foot. She followed, but her skin was already crawling with alarm. That was Mrs. Lange’s house. The screams had come from there. With an extra burst of speed, Flanna swallowed down her fear for the other woman. She had to be strong for what might lie ahead.

The metallic scent of blood assaulted her nose long before they reached the front door. In front of her, Jason faltered for the first time since stopping on the other side of the hill, and Flanna passed him, glancing back with a frown. He’d gone pale, and he was swallowing convulsively. But just as quickly as he’d halted, he started again, though his pace now had slowed.

The blood started at the stone wall that lined the front garden. A smeared handprint trailed along the rounded rock, and Flanna saw Mrs. Lange’s unconscious body sprawled around the corner. “Help her!” she shouted to Jason.

For a second, she thought he was going to argue. Then he angled his path to the hurt woman, crouching down when he reached her to inspect her vital signs.

The front door hung broken from its hinges. From inside the house, she heard the sound of snuffles and breaking glass, harsh and unrelenting in its constant flow. Whatever had attacked Mrs. Lange was still in there. She had no choice but to go in after it.

With the knife cradled in her palm, Flanna crept up to the entrance, peering around the jamb to try and see what might be going on inside. The noises were coming from deeper within the house, the sharp clatters, both glass and metallic, hinting that the thing was likely in the kitchen. Searching for something to eat? Had it taken what it wanted from Mrs. Lange and then moved on to other foodstuffs?

Her shirt stuck to her back, damp from sweat and chilled from the night air. She could feel every beat of her heart, every frisson along her skin, every centimeter of her shirt adhering to her back as she edged through the house. That was new. When it came to fighting, Flanna was typically more in control. But then again, she’d never fought demons near her home before.

The snarls grew in volume a split second before something heavy leapt onto her chest. Flanna fell backwards against the cherry sideboard, a sharp pain ricocheting through her lower back, but reacted with sheer instinct, the silver blade in her hand coming up and slicing across the back of the attacking creature. It howled in protest, and fell away, but her freedom only lasted for moments before it rushed her again.

She threw herself sideways, and heard the sickening crunch of the demon slamming headfirst into the wooden sideboard. Only then did she have the time to risk giving it more than a cursory glance.

Jason had been right; it wasn’t a werewolf. Whatever it was, it was the size of a young teenager, slim and svelte, with a body that seemed to twist impossibly right before her eyes. It was covered with iridescent scales that shimmered almost hypnotically as it rolled over to stare at Flanna. Reptilian eyes, black and beady, met her blue ones. Intelligence lurked within their depths.

Flanna saw the creature move just before it jumped again, diving low when it vaulted at her head. Her blade cut across the top of its legs, fresh blood spilling to the polished wooden floor, and she slipped in the viscous fluid, falling hard onto her ass. The fall jarred the dull pain already in her back, but she lashed out with a swift kick when she heard the demon approach again. Her heel connected with its chest, knocking it away, and she rolled toward it, plunging her knife one more time into its flesh.

Strong hands pulled her away from the creature’s dead body, tugging her to her feet and turning her around. On reflex, her arm came up, but before she could strike, Jason caught her wrist, his fingers strong where it held her still. His eyes weren’t on her face, however; they scanned expertly over her body, searching for any obvious injuries.

She took a deep breath. It served to help steady her racing nerves, but she had a strong suspicion that Jason’s touch was doing just as much.. “I’m fine,” Flanna said, shrugging his hands from her shoulders.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m not—” She stopped when he turned her arm over to expose the long cut that ran from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. She didn’t remember getting it. “It’s just a scratch.”

Jason didn’t seem to care. When he stepped closer, Flanna stepped backwards, feeling the sideboard block her from going any farther. His hands traveled up her arms, gentle and probing as he checked for more wounds, then cupped her face to turn her head from one side to the other.

Though her back throbbed and the scratch was stinging now that the adrenaline had slowed, Flanna couldn’t feel anything but the heat of his palms against her cheeks. Her eyes never left his face as he scrutinized her neck and shoulders, and her throat was suddenly too dry. When he finally lifted his gaze to hers, she fully expected him to drop his hands.

He didn’t.

“How do you feel?” he asked softly.

His voice was silken, drawing the thudding of her heart closer to her skin’s surface so that she was sure he could see every pulse. She reached up to pull his hands away before her body betrayed her even more.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “How’s Mrs. Lange?”

A ghost of confusion passed behind his brilliant blue eyes, and then Jason seemed to snap from whatever worried fugue he’d been in when he found her. Stepping back, he began to move around the room, almost tripping over his feet to get away from her.