Moonlight druid, p.1
Moonlight Druid, page 1
part #3 of Colin McCool Series Series
Moonlight Druid
A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel
M.D. Massey
Modern Digital Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by M.D. Massey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
IRL Resources
1
I stood in front of the Pack clubhouse with the alpha, Samson. The entire Pack had surrounded me, and something told me they weren’t here for a Tupperware party.
The alpha looked me in the eye and sighed. “If you want my help, that means you have to join the Pack, just like any other prospect.”
I’d come to him for help in learning to control my ríastrad, the curse that caused me to shift into an enraged, deadly creature out of legend. Since I was stuck with the curse, I wanted to learn how to control its effects so I could use it as a weapon. I was stronger, faster, and much more resistant to pain and injury in my other form. But more importantly, the only time I had access to the magic of Balor’s Eye was when I shifted into my Hyde-side. The Eye’s magic would be my ace in the hole when I confronted Fuamnach, the fae sorceress who’d cursed me, and her accomplice, the Dark Druid.
One was responsible for the death of my former girlfriend, Jesse. The other was responsible for the death of my father. I owed them both a hell of a lot of pain and misery. If getting justice for Jesse and Dad meant I had to face down a pack of werewolves, so be it.
Samson’s eyes narrowed as he explained what was about to happen. “Every prospect starts the same way. I’d tell you this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you, but that’d be a lie.” Samson nodded to someone behind me, and that’s when I triggered my cantrips.
Cantrips were relatively weak spells that performed a specific function, such as providing light, lighting a candle, or silencing footsteps. Since things hadn’t gone so well the last time I’d met up with the Dark Druid, I’d spent time preparing myself in case I ran into him again. His magic was well beyond mine, and the only thing that had saved me from certain death was my ríastrad, and a great deal of help from Balor’s Eye. The Eye’s magic was powerful, as in god-killer powerful. Back in the day, Balor had used it to wipe out entire armies. If I could use the Eye’s magic, I’d wipe the floor with the Dark Druid and Fuamnach. But until I could control my change, its magic remained beyond my reach.
Which was why I’d set up these spells, working them into the weaves that held my wards. They were designed to save my ass in case I needed to become scarce in a hurry. One triggered a flashbang cantrip I could project from my hands. It was relatively simple magic, but useful just the same. The second cast a see-me-not spell on me; rather, it triggered the see-me-not spell I’d woven into my overcoat. And the third temporarily hardened the protection wards I now constantly wore in the form of an amulet and bracelet. Each provided me with some resistance to spells and physical attacks, just enough to save me from one of the Dark Druid’s attacks.
But not from a full on beat down from a werewolf pack.
I knew the first attack would come from behind, so I pointed my right hand to the side and my left behind my back as the cantrips released. This would ensure that the flashbang spell blinded and deafened whoever was behind me. That would allow me to momentarily concentrate on defending my left flank. Or so I hoped. The see-me-not spell would only work on those wolves who broke eye contact with me, which was why the spell chain began with the flashbang.
The spell triggered with an explosive boom and enough light to blind the sensitive eyes of the wolves, even in daylight. As I heard gasps from the wolves to my rear and right, I rolled toward Samson and came up in a crouch to face the wolves who hadn’t been affected. One was already closing with me—a large bruiser of a guy with deeply tanned skin, long dark hair, and a horseshoe mustache. He could have been a Danny Trejo double if it weren’t for his size. I spun and swept his legs out from under him, and heel-kicked him across the jaw.
Lights out, I thought. At least, for a few seconds. Werewolves healed fast.
I shuffled quickly to place the downed wolf between me and the rest of the Pack. I’d blinded two-thirds of them with my first spell, but the other ten or so were closing in fast. A rough-looking female with prison tats and short dark hair came around the Danny Trejo look-alike, crouched in a boxer’s stance and looking like she knew how to throw a punch. I faked a jab and side-kicked her in the knee—not hard enough to snap it, but enough to give her a limp so she couldn’t pursue.
“Fuck, Samson!” she yelled. “This kid fights dirty.”
I backed away from her, still attempting to keep Danny Trejo between me and the rapidly closing group. The female wolf limped away from me, but the wolves I’d blinded had formed a tight half-circle, blocking my escape. I circled away from the group, looking to engage a wolf who broke away to flank me.
Maybe fifteen seconds had elapsed from the time I’d triggered my spell. I gave myself another twenty seconds, tops, before they bum-rushed me. As I calculated my next move, someone pulled Danny Trejo out of the ring, distracting me.
I glanced away momentarily, then turned my attention back to my attackers. My eyes snapped around just in time to see a long, slender leg ending in a steel-toed boot, coming right at my face. Not at regular speed, but werewolf speed. And it didn’t look like this she-wolf was going to pull it.
That was the last thing I remembered before the boot connected with my jaw. Lights out again. Shit.
I woke to bright lights and lots of noise. I vaguely registered the thump and whine of loud, hard rock music blasting from somewhere nearby. The sound drove a spike through my temple. My jaw hurt like hell, I had an epic headache, and I wanted to puke.
Concussion. Definitely a concussion.
A voice shouted from close by. “Hey, everybody, the druid’s awake!”
I sat up, nice and easy, to the roar of several dozen biker werewolves cheering my return to the land of the living. It made my head pound even worse. I rubbed my jaw, moving it around to make sure it wasn’t broken. I’d be eating soup for a day or two, but my mouth still worked. My protective spells had done their job, but only just.
I felt someone slap me on the shoulder, and turned to acknowledge them. Sledge, the club’s sergeant-at-arms, shoved a glass in my hand. The contents looked like beer, with stuff floating in it.
“Here, kid, drink this. Samson bought it off a witch we hire sometimes. Said it’d help you heal.”
I sniffed the drink and gagged.
“No idea what’s in it, but trust me, you want to drink it. Your face looks like it got into a fight with a Brahma bull—and lost. Drink up.”
Fighting back a wave of nausea, I slugged down the drink. It was beer, but whatever witch’s brew they’d poured into it made it taste like swamp water and piss. Not that I knew what either tasted like, but if I had to guess, this was it. There were solid chunks in the liquid, and I had to force a few of the slimier particles down, breathing heavily through my nose as I finished the glass off.
A chill passed through me, and the dull ache in my head turned into a sharp, stabbing pain that started at my jaw and radiated to the back of my head. The pain intensified until I was ready to scream with agony. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it faded away until my discomfort was nothing more than background noise. I felt my jaw pop and readjust, and feeling seeped back into the left side of my face—first in a wave of pain, then with a rush of relief as the soreness and swelling also receded. I tongued a loose molar that I hadn’t noticed previously, and felt as it sunk back into its socket, settling firmly into place.
I popped my neck and took a deep breath, then surveyed the scene. I was sitting on a pool table, and there was a bloody stain in the felt where my head had rested a moment before. We were inside the Pack’s clubhouse, and they were partying like there was no tomorrow. Werewolves loved to raise hell, and this Pack’s parties were legendary, or so I’d heard. I got a few nods as Pack members strode past, but most pointedly ignored my presence.
“You guys jump everybody into the Pack?”
Sledge shrugged. “If they have the beast, they get a beating. Always been that way. That’s the first step to being accepted into the Pack. Gotta see how a ’thrope fights. Fastest way to find out if they’re going to be a liability or not.”
“So—”
“How’d you do? Meh, I was surprised you lasted as long as you did, but some of the Pack thinks you cheated. A few stood up for you, ’cuz you can’t even shift yet. So, you were fighting at a major disadvantage. Had to use what tools you had to protect y ourself, and you did. Plus, you didn’t go overboard. You could’ve collapsed Trina’s knee, but you didn’t. And Guerra might have had a headache earlier, but you could’ve hurt him a lot worse. So, I’d say you did alright.”
I rubbed my jaw. “Did you get the plates off that truck that hit me?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that was Samson’s daughter. Likes to play rough. You’ll meet her later.”
I cracked my neck again and surveyed the club. Dozens of werewolves and humans filled the place, drinking, brawling, making out, and generally having a good time. “You know, I didn’t expect this sort of welcome when I asked for Samson’s help.”
The huge werewolf smirked. “Bet you didn’t expect to be brought into the Pack, either. Well, it’s only temporary—but I’ll let Samson explain his reasons for that.” A dark look came over his face. “It was—not a popular decision.”
I got the impression Sledge was telling me to watch my back. “Thanks for letting me know.”
His face relaxed, and he grinned. “Hey, I owe you, anyway. I won six hundred bucks betting against everyone who said you wouldn’t last five seconds. Figured you’d hold your own.”
I’d fought Sledge on a sort of dare a while back, when I’d helped Bells with an investigation for the Cold Iron Circle. I was glad he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. I couldn’t say the same for the Circle, though. They were self-appointed protectors who stepped in whenever a supernatural creature threatened the local human population. Belladonna’s boss at the Circle didn’t like me much, because in his eyes, my curse made me as much of a threat as the fae. Maybe worse.
Still, Bells was my girlfriend and a loyal friend, so I didn’t hold it against her.
He grabbed two beers off a tray as a barmaid passed by, and shoved one in my hand. “Enjoy the party, prospect. Cause after tonight, you’re going to be earning your keep around here.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I expected it wouldn’t involve selling Girl Scout cookies. But now wasn’t the time for concern. If getting Samson’s help meant I had to join the Pack, then I needed to blend in and play the part. I slammed down the beer and did my best to join in the fun.
I soon got the impression that my presence wasn’t exactly welcomed by the Pack. After getting the cold shoulder a few times, I took a seat at the bar. Before long, I heard someone calling for me from a table in the corner.
“Hey, druid! Yeah, you, the guy who fights dirty. Come over here.”
It was the woman I’d knee-capped earlier, the one Sledge had called Trina. She had an up-to-no-good smile on her face, a bottle of beer in one hand, and her arm draped around some skinny redhead ten years her junior.
I sighed and walked over. The redhead looked me up and down—not in a sexual way, but perhaps to size me up as competition. Trina was still grinning ear to ear as I approached the table.
“Oh, don’t look so damned butt-hurt. I’m just giving you shit, prospect. Pull up a seat.”
I shrugged and sat down. “Sorry about the knee.”
She waved my comment away. “Don’t mention it. Barely did any damage—doesn’t even hurt now. Truth is, you did alright. Whole purpose of the exercise is to see if you’re game, and if you’ll do anything chickenshit. You passed on both counts. If the rest of these assholes don’t see it that way, fuck ’em.”
“Thanks.”
She set her beer down and stuck her hand out. “Name’s Trina.”
“Colin.” I shook her hand. “Sledge told me who you were earlier.”
She stuck her lip out slightly and nodded. “And I know who you are, so we’re even. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be polite. Hell, we’re bikers and shifters, not animals.” She grinned at her own joke. “Shit for, Colin, smile! You’re among friends here, more or less.”
The redhead gave me a sideways glance and stifled a short laugh. Trina raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, outside of the redhead’s view. “Babe, I need a fresh beer. Bring one for Colin too, a’right?”
The redhead frowned slightly, then got up and headed for the bar. Trina nodded her chin at the girl’s back. “Don’t mind Suze—she’s just protective of me. Thinks if you and I hang out, it won’t go well for me with the other wolves.” She leaned in and took a swig of her beer. “Got news for her, though, I’m already none too popular here. Some folks don’t like a female wearing the Pack’s colors. But like I said, fuck ’em.”
“How’s that work, exactly? I thought women were treated like property in outlaw biker clubs.”
“Pfft. Please. I ain’t no one’s property. Naw, what you’re referring to are the ‘property of’ patches that the old ladies wear in some MC’s. Yeah, that’s old-school stuff, but really it just means ‘hands off’ to other clubs. But here, if you’re a ’thrope and you pass the trials, you get full member status.”
I nodded slowly. “There’s a lot about this I don’t know. What do you mean, ‘trials’?”
Trina sat back in her chair and kicked her feet up on the table. “That’s for Samson to explain. Probably should’ve done it before you got jumped in, but he’s the alpha, so it’s his decision about what he tells new prospects. But I’m curious—you’re not a ’thrope, so what in the hell are you?”
I shrugged. “Complicated.”
Trina’s eyes narrowed, then she gave a short, tight-lipped chuckle. “I bet. Your choice if you don’t want to say. Got no problem with that.”
I shrugged. “I guess it’s no secret. I got cursed by a Tuatha sorceress, and whenever I’m badly injured, I change into something else. Something old and fae. It’s—not friendly. At all.”
“Ah, so Samson agreed to help you learn to control it. I see. Must be why half the Pack is pissed at him.”
“They don’t want me here.”
She tilted her head. “Well, it’s not that. It’s that you’re not the typical shifter. Don’t get me wrong. Packs sometimes take in strays, even those who aren’t lycans. Most ’thropes are wolves, but each local pack has the responsibility to look after all the ’thropes in their territory, non-wolves included. They keep loners from killing indiscriminately, see to the widows and orphans, that sort of thing. So, when we get a ’thrope who isn’t a wolf, and who hasn’t been taught control yet, either we find someone of their kind to train them, or we do it ourselves. It’s not common, mind you, but it happens.
“But you—you’re something else entirely. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a Pack taking in a shapeshifter who wasn’t a ’thrope. Samson’ll take a lot of heat for this. So, either he likes you a lot, or he owes someone a favor, big time.” Trina swigged the last dregs of her beer and winked at me. “Either way, this is going to be interesting.”
I digested what she’d told me for a moment. “I had no idea it was going to be like this when I asked for Samson’s help. In truth, he offered his help to me first. But I didn’t know I was going to put him at odds with his Pack by accepting the offer.”
She sniffed. “No backing out now, kid. Once you accept the offer to become Pack, the only way out is finishing the trials. Or…”
“Or?”
She grimaced slightly, as if she’d said too much. “Or that’s it. That’s all I can say. Talk to Samson if you want to know more.”
I noticed us getting some stares from around the room, and heard a few comments that were none too friendly. I decided to extricate myself from her presence before she took too much heat.
“Thanks, Trina. I appreciate you sticking your neck out to make me feel welcome.”
“I got the same shit when I joined up. Gut it out, ’cause after you pass your trials they can’t say crap.”
I nodded and stood. “See you ’round.”
She chuckled. “Oh yeah, you will. Welcome to your new home away from home, prospect.” She spread her arms wide, and laughed.
