Hyena Moon, page 1
HYENA MOON
Jeanette Battista
Copyright 2012 Jeanette Battista
All rights reserved
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Discover other titles by Jeanette Battista at Amazon.com:
Leopard Moon (Volume 1 of the Moon series)
Jackal Moon (Volume 2 of the Moon series)
To Ms. Jewel Dean Love Suddath.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter One
The big white house was quiet. It exuded silence like a tomb, or maybe a dentist's office. It was late morning and Rafe stood looking out the window of the room where he slept. He couldn't call it his bedroom; that didn't feel right. He certainly wasn't a guest here--a hostage, maybe; a prisoner, perhaps; an inconvenience, definitely. But then, he didn't expect much from Kess, the wereleopard clan leader who had been saddled with him unexpectedly. No one had expected his mother to just dump her youngest and walk away not knowing if they'd kill him. They also didn’t realize that his mother would probably be grateful to have been saved the hassle of doing it herself.
The view he had wasn't much, just the backyard and a sliver of the guest cottage, but it was better than anything he had at home. At the thought of home he frowned, the scars on the right side of his face still pulling tightly even though it had been three years since he'd received them. He'd been thirteen when his mother, Samara, had ripped his face open for speaking when she'd expected silence from him.
He thought of his mother, even though he didn't want to, even though it tied him in knots. He thought of nothing else really. It wasn't like he had anything else to fill his time with, so he went over and over in his head the reasons why his mother might have left him behind.
He knew before he'd come to Miami with his mother that this was his last chance with her; his last chance to prove that he could do something for his pack of werehyenas other than suck up its resources. She hadn't said as much outright, but Rafe knew that his mom was looking for an excuse to get rid of him. It had bothered him when he'd first left for Miami, because only someone deeply disturbed wouldn't care that their mother was maybe trying to kill them off, but he'd made his peace with it.
Or so he'd thought. But now he was driving himself crazy with it. He'd done a good job down here for her: he'd been the one who'd scoped out the presence of the Eaters, the werejackal assassins helping Kess; he'd been the one to keep his head and help his mother salvage something out of the failed assassination attempt on Kess in the nightclub. His sister, Teresa, had been the one who screwed up, who went against orders, who threw a monkey wrench into the gears of their mother's well-oiled plans.
Yet here he was and Teresa was safe at home. None of this was fair.
He could always leave. There was nothing keeping him here, and while Kess hadn't killed him yet, he couldn't be sure when she might change her mind. Still, weres on their own didn't last long. It was dangerous going it alone in strange territories, with no one to back you up or to lean on for protection. There was safety in numbers; lone weres were almost always looked on with suspicion.
And then there was the problem of his packmates. With his mother abandoning him, they could attempt to improve their standing in the pack by killing him themselves. If they thought Samara wanted him out of the way, then they would think there was something to gain by bringing his horribly mangled body back to her as a way to prove their loyalty. Yeah, not something he wanted to dwell on.
Rafe paced the confines of his room, trying to wrap his head around all of it. He was pretty sure he'd proven he had worth to the pack. Hadn't he? His mind shied away from the idea of his mother really not caring about him, that she'd truly abandoned him. That she'd actually left him behind to die. He wouldn't accept that—he couldn't. She might not be in the running to win mother of the year, but she wasn't a monster. There had to be something else going on, something more, something he was missing.
While his feet tracked off the same route from bed to window to door to closet and back to bed, his mind tried to find new patterns. His mother still needed to know what was happening in Miami. That much hadn't changed. Rafe was now perfectly placed to give Samara the information that she'd need to plan her takeover of the wereleopard clan’s territory.
He stopped, letting his mind run through the possibilities. Maybe that's what she'd been going for all along. Perhaps she'd been counting on Kess being soft-hearted enough to take in a stray. It didn't explain why he wasn't told about Samara's plan, but then again, his mother wasn't terribly forthcoming with her business. And for a con like this to work--if con it was--he had to be believable in his confusion and fear.
He had at least proven that he was better at following orders and being observant than Teresa. It made sense that he'd be a better spy—Teresa didn't exactly scream vulnerability—even if he didn't know what his mother was doing. A small voice inside him reminded him that if he failed, Samara still came out ahead because she hadn't wasted an important resource. He told that voice to shut up. If his mother was playing things out this way, it would explain her leaving him here. It meant she had a plan for him too.
There were times he was sure he hated his mother. He'd felt it boil inside him when she'd first given him the Miami assignment, and he knew she knew it. He felt it every time she'd beaten him, and after she'd clawed his face. And that was when she wasn't actively ignoring him. But there'd be times, few though they were, that he would catch a glimpse of the mother he wanted. She'd smile at him at a party, she'd talk to him about his day when there was a man to impress. It didn't matter that it never lasted very long; Rafe thought that if he just tried harder, she would look at him like that all of the time. Like how she looked at Teresa.
Rafe resumed his restless pacing, needing to do something with all of his stifled energy. There were the werewolves to think about though. If he wanted to risk spying on Kess, he'd need to take them into account. They already didn't trust him. When he'd ventured out of his room for food, they'd looked at him like he was something they'd find behind a sewer grate. The two of them seemed perfectly fine with the crazy assassin werejackals in the house but they had a problem with him--he might have found it funny if he didn't have to live with them. He knew enough after looking at them that it would be best if he stayed out of their way for the time being.
It came down to what he wanted to do, probably for the first time in his life. Did he really think he'd been put here to spy on his mother's enemies? Rafe paused and stared out the window at the grounds beyond. And, if he had been, did he want to?
Chapter Two
Kess eyed the young werehyena where he sat like a statue on the sofa. He was in his teens, still not full grown. He was going to be tall; already he topped her 5'9" height. His build was lean, but the short sleeve shirt he wore showed the long defined muscles of his arms. He was all whipcord muscle and bone right now, a certain underfed look about him. His hair was black and shaggy. It hung in his eyes and face, obscuring the amber eyes, dark brows and the almost girlishly heavy black eyelashes. His skin was pale, white as the sand beaches beneath the moon so that it almost glowed, and it looked even whiter against his hair. He had strong, slim features, his face ending in a pointed chin.
His hair mostly hid the thick white scars that ran from his right temple to his chin. Three claws had marred the perfect beauty of his face. Kess wondered if he wore his hair long to keep people from noticing. All the werehyenas she had seen were astoundingly beautiful; this young man was no different, scars or not. In fact, she thought the scars made him more attractive--giving him an allu
He'd only been in the house for a couple of days, but she'd barely seen him. He had been quiet since his mother had abandoned him here. He moved through the house like a ghost, like he didn't want to attract any notice. Kess couldn't blame him. She remembered how it was when she'd first run away from home. She'd kept her head down and did her best to be unremarkable. Attention was not something she'd been looking for then. She'd given orders to her clan of wereleopards to keep their visits to the house to a minimum to avoid spooking the young man.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, nabbing a bottle of water from the wet bar's refrigerator.
He shook his head and she walked over to sit on the couch, near the end opposite him. He held a throw pillow in his lap, picking at a tassel nervously with his good hand. The other hand, broken fingers wrapped carefully, lay on the couch beside him. She folded her legs beneath her and stared at him, wondering if he was ever going to look at her. Finally, after a few moments of sitting in silence, he did.
Kess smiled. "So what would you like to do while you're staying with us?"
The question caught him off guard and she saw his brows knit together in confusion. "I...I...what?"
"You aren't a prisoner, you're a guest," Kess reminded him. She'd told him so during their first meeting several days ago, the morning after Samara had left him. He didn't seem to believe it. "If you want, you can return to your pack at any time, but I figured while you're here, you might want to do something, I don't know, fun."
He looked at her, his topaz eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."
Kess swallowed her sigh. It was slow going with Rafe. Not that she'd expected him to trust her overnight--God alone knew what Samara had filled his head with about wereleopards--but he was so unwilling to let his guard down even the slightest bit. She understood where he was at though; she'd been in a similar place not all that long ago.
"You're free to go out and do whatever you want. You can take a class somewhere, hang out at a bookstore, go listen to bands. Maybe make some friends? You don't have to stay cooped up in this house like a shut-in. Nobody expects that."
He appeared to consider it. "Okay."
"Okay?" She felt relief wash over her. She thought that getting out and doing things normal kids his age did might be good for him. Kess didn't know for sure what kind of home life he came from, but knew it wasn't ideal.
Finn and Laila had told her how he'd come by the broken fingers and his bruises; they'd watched the brawl between Rafe and his sister and had seen the young man come out the worse for it. Kess knew something about unhealthy sibling relationships. She and her brother, Sekhmet, had been at odds--and that was the mother of all understatements--until his death several weeks ago.
Rafe shrugged. "I don't know. What's there to do?"
Kess thought. It had been almost two years since she'd been in Miami. She had no idea what the latest scene was anymore. But she knew a couple of people who would and they would have younger siblings around Rafe's age. She'd been planning on calling some old friends anyway. Now was as good a time as any.
She eyed her unwilling houseguest again. He was draped in clothes that didn't fit him, wearing Finn's hand-me-downs. The t-shirt swam on him and the shorts—which were an old pair of Sek's because there was no way either Finn or Cormac's pants would stay up on the rail-thin boy—were still too large for comfortable wear. He'd only had the ill-fitting suit that he came in. If he was going to stay here, Rafe was going to need something to wear.
"But before you do anything, you're going to need some clothes that actually fit. Come on." Kess saw him glance down at what he was wearing as if he only just noticed how ridiculous he looked.
"I don't have any money."
Kess pulled him up. "Don't worry about that. Let's go." She led Rafe out of the room. Maybe some new clothes would motivate him to get out a little.
Chapter Three
Rafe walked through the mall, well aware of the couple at his back. He'd taken Kess up on her offer of shopping because he was tired of wearing clothes that were so large he could fit another him in them and because he was tired of staying in the house. He'd spent the last three days cooped up in the guest room, afraid to show his face. He'd felt trapped, waiting for whatever came next. He was surprised to find that what came next was shopping.
The fact that this shopping trip was charity burned his pride some, but he couldn't be choosy right now. He had nothing. His mother hadn't exactly left him with her credit card and a wad of cash before she left. Everything he had came at the hands of the young woman who was supposed to be his enemy.
He shouldn't have been surprised that Cormac had come along. He was Kess' boyfriend, and Rafe knew that Cormac wouldn't leave her alone with him. Even in a public place, Rafe knew Cormac didn't trust him. So he'd tagged along with the excuse of keeping Kess company, but Rafe wasn't fooled. Cormac was keeping an eye on him. He'd gotten the impression that both Cormac and his cousin Finn had left their pack of werewolves in North Carolina to specifically guard Kess while she was here.
Rafe was surprised though that Kess, as the head of her clan, had gone out without more bodyguards. It was just the three of them. Granted, it was only a mid-afternoon trip to the mall so it was highly unlikely that she'd need a contingent of werebeasts to guard her, but it surprised him that she wouldn't have at least one more bodyguard. He knew what his mother was capable of--better than anyone. Samara wanted Miami more than anything else and she wouldn't stop until she got it. Either Kess had a lot more security than she let on, she was comfortable in her own strength and skills, or she was shockingly stupid. Right now, Rafe couldn't begin to guess which one it was, but he filed it away for use later. It might reveal a vulnerability he could exploit.
He looked around at the people passing him by but didn't see any familiar faces. Not that he expected to. He'd never gotten much chance to come to Miami and certainly never to the mall. He caught some of the passerby staring at him and ducked his head back down. At home, most everyone was used to his scars--he didn't get a lot of stares anymore. But here, he felt that his scars were all anyone could see. It made him feel exposed. He didn't like that his history of abuse was written on his face for all to read. Things like that should be more private.
He walked into a store that looked like it would have some jeans, figuring that Kess and Cormac would follow. He wandered over to the wall of denim, selecting pairs at random. Same was done for shirts and shorts. Rafe had never been concerned with fit before—he wore whatever his mother decided to give him and shut up about it. He piled clothes up on the counter and turned to look at Kess. She was watching him with an open, easy look on her face and nodded encouragingly.
"Get everything you think you'll need. Swim gear, shoes, the whole nine." She waved him on with a smile.
Rafe continued grabbing clothes, angry now. It was so easy for her to wave him on, as if money didn't mean a thing to her. His family wasn't exactly poor, but his mother didn't wave it around like Kess was doing. What Samara had, she usually spent on herself. And now, here he was able to buy anything he wanted--on someone else's dime, no less--and all he felt was resentment. He had to grit his teeth to keep from pulling his lips back in a snarl.
Kess and Cormac hung back as he waded deeper into the department store, snagging shoes and more clothes than he could ever possibly need. He knew he was dumb for being angry at someone doing something nice for him, but it just reminded him of everything he didn't have. There was a part of him that wanted to hurt Kess because of it. Half the stuff he chose he had no intention of ever wearing—he just wanted to see if she would stop him. She didn't.
He was dumping a couple of pairs of Chucks with the rest of his purchases when he caught a glimpse of dark red hair out of the corner of his eye. His head snapped around, and he saw his sister disappearing between racks of clothes. She was heading towards the exit that spilled everyone out into the bulk of the mall proper.
Rafe could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Teresa was here? What the hell was she doing here? A dozen different reasons flashed through his head: she'd come to check on him, to take him home, to kill him, to spy for their mother. Or the one most hoped for and least likely: his mother had changed her mind and wanted him back. He dropped what he was holding and took off after her, trying to keep her red hair in sight. He didn't care about clothes or Kess and Cormac; all he wanted was to talk to Teresa. He needed to find out if his mother had a plan in mind when she'd left him.
