Page 68 of Broken Moon

I’m here.

We’re on South Street.

OMW.

Careful coming in.

Der.

I dropped my phone into mypocket and raced across a street to stand silent and motionless behind a treeas vehicle headlights lit up the night and the dim voices I’d heard a fewseconds earlier became abruptly louder.

The patrolling vehicle was anold black jeep, with at least five men sitting or standing with shotguns andrifles and likely a few handguns, as well. I didn’t move until they’d turnedoff down the street, and then I slipped between two dark houses, theiroccupants sound asleep and quite secure in the knowledge that their peoplewould protect them. Of course, they didn’t know about demons, but still.

The brutal town was sort oflike Jared’s Shadowfield or Adam Thorne’s Stonebridge, and those who lived inthe Pocket were as vicious as any werewolf. And they were human, so they couldafford to be less careful than wolf towns. Wolves went to great pains to avoidgetting themselves on the radar of human police enforcement. Those in thePocket simply didn’t give a shit.

I had to close my mind off tothe dark despair of Falton as I made my infuriatingly slow way to the SouthStreet house. I’d been inside the borders of the Pocket only once, but likemost people even remotely associated with law enforcement, I’d studied themaps. I knew where South Street was, and I knew the quickest route to getthere.

But along the way there were somany sounds of torment that I had to force myself not to stop at every singleone of them. A baby crying, a woman screaming as a man yelled, a kid callingfor his mommy.

Once as I hurried past themouth of an alley, I saw three dark figures fighting. I couldn’t tell if theywere male or female or if two were ganging up on one. I just knew I had to getto South Street, and the horrors of the Pocket would continue long after I’dleft it. The place was hell. No wonder the demon was here. He was probably notthe only one.

Fifteen minutes after I’dentered the Pocket, I made it to South Street. I walked down the street,listening and watching for movement. It was silent, dark, and cold.

I got my shift.

The thought torpedoed out ofnowhere and smacked me between the eyes, and for a few seconds I had to cram myfist against my mouth, slow my breathing, and calm my emotions. I’d barely beenable to let it sink in, butfuck. I’d gotten my shift.

Now was not the time to letmyself be distracted though, and that made me just a little damn resentful. Iwas no longer a hobbled wolf. I was free. And I couldn’t even wallow in thattruth.

Not yet.

I darted across someone’s yardand around to the back of the house, then yelped when I literally ran into thedetective. I slammed against him and he grabbed my arms to steady me.

“Kait,” he murmured, his voicehoarse.

He looked rough, and I knewpart of it was because of his worry over Beth, but the look in his eyes told methat he’d had a glimpse into hell and whatever he’d seen had fucked him up. Hehad a black eye, a still bleeding cut on his chin, and a swollen, bruisedbottom lip.

“What’s going on, Rick? Where’sLucy?” Without thinking, I ran my thumb over his lip, frowning. I was used tocuts and bruises, but I was a wolf.

He grabbed my wrist and pulledmy hand away from his mouth but didn’t let go of my arm. “Locked in her bodyfighting the demon,” he said grimly.

“Shit. She’s aware?”

“Oh yes. She’s very aware.”Despite my wolf’s hearing, which was even better now that I’d gotten my shift,I had to lean close to hear him. The last thing we wanted was for thepatrolling “guards” to become aware of us. “She’s keeping him occupied,” hecontinued. “He seems fascinated with her. If she hadn’t stopped him, he’d havekilled me. He gets the upper hand at times, but he’s struggling for his control.”He let go of my wrist.

I remembered in the woods whenI’d first met the demon—he’d been somewhat fascinated with Lucy then, too. AndI didn’t think the only reason for that was because he thought he was owed hersoul.

“I found an unoccupied house,”he told me. “We can talk there without worrying about the armed assholes hopingto find someone to shoot.”

The house he’d found was onlytwo blocks from where we stood, but it seemed to take us an eternity to getthere. We slipped through the night like shadows, but the extreme caution wasnecessary. It was critical that we not be caught by guards or seen byhomeowners.

At last we hurried across theback yard of the empty house, and he quietly shoved open the door and usheredme inside. We stood in a small, clean kitchen, and I wrinkled my sensitive noseat the scents of strong disinfectant, old bacon, and decades of cigarettesmoke. I followed him from the kitchen to the living room, where he flipped ona light. The curtains over the window were thick enough to keep the light fromshowing through, so we wouldn’t have to worry about someone seeing it andgetting nosy.

He did a doubletake when he gota good look at the blood on my face, my chest, and my hands. “Kait.”

I shrugged. “I lead a violentlife, Detective.” At least nearly every injury I’d gotten was healed, thanks tomy shift.

Myshift.I shivered,taking a second to relish that fact—and the lack of pain. When the full mooncame, it would successfully push me into my shift, and it would not hurt atall. I could barely wait.