Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“Mmm.” Cal holstered his weapon, but he kept his hand on his belt just in case.

I was kind of surprised he hadn’t seen the wolf. The animal had been right in front of him; he should have at least detected a movement, even if he had been focused on the mysterious gaping hole in the earth.

I checked the ground but found no tracks. Though the rain still fell in a steady stream, a bear would have left some kind of indentation. A wolf should have, too.

“We better head back,” I said. “I’m sure Jordan has a list of problems the length of my arm for us to deal with.”

“Probably,” Cal agreed. “What do you think that orange glow was?”

“A reflection?”

“Off a UFO?”

“Okay.” Stranger things had happened—right here in Lake Bluff.

Cal laughed at my easy agreement. “Anyone else live in the vicinity that we could talk to? Maybe they saw something.”

“My great-grandmother had a friend who lived—” I waved in a vague northerly direction. “Although I’m not sure how much she can see or hear anymore.”

I hadn’t been to visit Quatie in a long time. My great-grandmother had asked me to check on her whenever I was in the area, but I’d had a busy, busy year, considering the werewolves, and I’d forgotten. I needed to remedy that ASAP.

“Probably not worth going over there,” Cal said.

“No,” I agreed, making a mental note to stop by another day.

We got into our cars and reached the highway without getting stuck. Then Cal went one way and I went the other.

I drove straight for the mayor’s house. Claire Kennedy was not only in charge of this town, but werewolves had nearly killed her, and her husband, Malachi Cartwright, knew more about them than anyone.

Myself, I’d been skeptical about the supernatural. Even though my great-grandmother had been a medicine woman of incredible power and she’d believed in magic, I’d been tugged in two directions. I’d wanted to be like her; I’d wanted to believe. But I’d also wanted to please my father—hadn’t learned until much later that such a thing was impossible—and he’d been a cop, filled with skepticism, requiring facts. I’d been confused, torn—until last summer when I’d had no choice but to accept the unacceptable.

I turned the squad car toward Claire’s place, uncaring that it was nearly midnight and she had a new baby. Claire would want to hear about this.

Before my tires completed twenty revolutions, headlights wavered on the other side of a rise. I was just reaching for the siren when a car came over the hill, took the curve too fast, and skidded across the yellow line. Out of control, it headed straight for me.

I yanked the wheel to the right, hoping to avoid both a head-on collision and being hit in the driver’s side door. The oncoming car glanced off my bumper, but the combination of speed and slick pavement sent me spinning. I was unable to gain control of the squad before I slammed into the nearest tree. My air bag imploded, smacking me in the face so hard my head snapped back; then everything went black.

I awoke to the sound of the rain and the distant beat of something that could have been a drum. Maybe thunder.

No, that wasn’t right.

I frowned and then groaned as pain exploded across my face and chest. Slowly I opened my eyes. The squad was crumpled against the trunk of a towering oak, my face squished into the air bag. I tasted blood.

The car wasn’t running. The radio was smashed. I felt for my cell phone, peered blearily at the display, which read: No service.

I was dizzy, nauseated. A quick glance into the rearview mirror didn’t reveal much, although from the dark splotches on my shadowy face, I just might have broken my nose.

I released the seat belt and fought my way from the car. Then I stood alone on a deserted, rain-drenched road. The prick who’d hit me had taken off. He was going to be toast when I got hold of him.

The rain had already drenched me to the skin. I’d removed my slicker when I’d gotten in the car. My head had been too fuzzy to remember to put it back on before I’d climbed out.

The trees spun. I wanted to sit. Instead, I leaned against the rear bumper and grasped for a coherent thought.

I was stuck in the mountains with no way to contact anyone. I could walk back to Lake Bluff; I’d probably have to. Just not right now.

Branches rustled. I blinked the rain from my lashes. Everything was still blurry. I could see my nose swelling up. I was going to have two black eyes. Wouldn’t be the first time. I did have four older brothers.

Not that they’d beat on me—much—but I’d always tried to keep up with them, and with the lack of supervision that came from a father obsessed with his job and a mother who’d taken off when I was three, I’d often ended up bruised and bloody.