Hunter Moon (The Moon Series)

  HUNTER 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)

  Hyena Moon (Volume 3 of the Moon series

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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-Three

  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

  Prologue

  Three Years Earlier

  His name was Lukas Jaegar. He was going to make a deal with the devil.

  He lit the saltpeter mixture, the dust igniting in the pentacle pattern he had carved into the wood-planked floor. The flames flickered out almost immediately, leaving a burning line of embers that glowed redly in the darkened room. He stepped inside another pentacle, this one drawn in black paint on the hardwood floor. He’d memorized the incantation months ago, but it had taken him some time to get all of the ingredients he would need for the summoning.

  He wanted to make sure he got everything right. Being eaten by a demon wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his eighteenth birthday.

  He breathed deeply to steady himself. He was in his family’s cabin in the woods. They hadn’t used it in years—not since the nightmarish hunting trip with his father and brother. There was no one else around for miles, which suited Lukas just fine since he couldn’t afford any interruptions. During the weeks of preparation leading up to this moment he hadn’t been worried—there was too much else to occupy his mind. But now that he was here, alone, with the moment of acting upon him, his whole body shook with nerves.

  It was too late to turn back, even if he had wanted to. There was nothing else for him now.

  Lukas spoke, his voice low and rough. Candle flames flickered on the edges of his vision. His words came faster, as if they were being pulled from him now, as if something else was controlling the spell he cast. He forced himself to slow, to say the words properly and keep his focus on the center of the empty pentacle.

  He finished the incantation with the final command. “Zamiel, I summon you! Zamiel, I call you! Zamiel, come forth!”

  Nothing happened.

  Lukas wasn’t stupid and he had the patience that all hunters had. He merely stood in his own pentacle, staring at the one opposite him. He had waited for hours for a deer to show itself; he could wait a few minutes to see if a demon would appear.

  At first there was nothing. Then a sign: a telltale haze around the edges of the candles behind the pentacle. It was like the heat shimmer that he sometimes saw on hot summer days. He waited a few more moments to see if whatever was there would solidify further. Lukas thought it might be playing a game with him; he’d read that demons were cagey and loved to catch humans out. He had no intention of stepping out of his protective pentacle until he knew the thing was banished or had agreed to his terms.

  “Zamiel! Show yourself!”

  The grin appeared first. It was wide and sharp, and contained a great number of very pointed teeth. The grin was followed by the rest of Zamiel, who appeared in the form of a tall, thin, dark-haired man. His age was indeterminate; he could have been twenty or sixty. His skin was smooth and pale, almost lacking of color, making him look rather dead. He was dressed in a form-fitting black suit.

  “Hello,” the demon said, drawing it out in a leer.

  “Zamiel?” Lukas frowned at the entity.

  “You did call me.” The demon prowled the edges of the pentacle, testing its boundaries, then stood with its arms by its sides in the center of it.

  Lukas swallowed hard, a little rattled. He hadn’t actually thought that he’d be successful, no matter how badly he wanted to be. But here was Zamiel, trapped in a pentacle, awaiting his command. Still, in all of the times he’d played the scenario out in his head, he always asked for the same thing.

  “I want to make a deal.”

  Zamiel’s left eyebrow lifted. That was the only expression he made.

  Lukas stopped, waiting for some other reaction. He hadn’t expected the demon to leap up and clap its hands in joy while singing a jaunty tune, but he had expected a bit more of a response. “Didn’t you hear me?” he asked finally, losing his patience. “I said, I want to make a deal!”

  “Oh, I heard you,” the demon said, pausing to examine its perfectly tipped oval fingernails, fingernails that tapered into sharp points at the end. “I’m just waiting for the rest of it.”

  Lukas narrowed his eyes. He’d already planned what he was going to say, what to ask for. If he was honest with himself, he’d known for years. He came from a long line of hunters—the men in his family had been great hunters for centuries. And Lukas wanted to be the greatest of them all. Perhaps then his father would look at him again, and actually see him.

  His head bobbed once in a slight nod, an unconscious gesture. “I want to be the greatest hunter ever. I want to hunt and kill things no other hunter has ever dared.”

  Zamiel steepled his fingers beneath his nose, tapping his index fingers against his lips. “I see.” He paused, his eyelids sliding closed as if he needed to have total darkness to think. Suddenly, they flashed open, spearing Lukas with their glowing power. “And what do you offer?”

  Lukas felt like he was falling through infinite space when he looked into those black eyes. Instead of a pupil, there was simply black, no difference between iris and pupil. But the blackness was spangled with glowing white dots, as if Zamiel contained a universe in his eyes. “Offer?” His head felt like it was a balloon, barely tethered to his body.

  The demon sighed, then chuckled. Lukas blinked and Zamiel’s eyes returned to a more normal hue. The change brought the young man crashing back to himself. He straightened, reminding himself not to meet the demon’s
eyes again.

  Zamiel grinned that off-putting grin again. “Yes. Offer.” He waved his hand. “What do I get in return for making you a great hunter?”

  “I’m already a great hunter,” Lukas said, his body stiffening at the implied insult. “I want to be the best that ever was or ever will be.” Zamiel would try and weasel out of giving him what he wanted; Lukas had to be very careful in how he phrased things.

  Again the dismissive hand wave. “And what is that worth to you?”

  Lukas gritted his teeth. He’d called the demon, hadn’t he? It was worth everything to him. “You can have my soul.”

  Zamiel’s eyes gleamed frighteningly in the candlelight, their depths swirling with hidden promises or torments. “Very well. I’ll just go standard boilerplate on this one, shall I? I will give you what you ask for and in return, I will take your soul in…three years time.”

  Three years? That’s all he would get, just three years? That didn’t seem fair. He was offering up his soul—it should be worth more than that!

  Zamiel smiled, sensing Lukas’ hesitation. “Perhaps if I were to show you what I was offering, you’d feel better about the terms?” He made an open handed gesture at the pentacle he stood inside. “If you would release me from this prison, I promise to be on my best behavior until our deal is completed.”

  Lukas eyed the demon warily. He was hesitant to release him, even with those constraints. Zamiel might want his soul and be willing to play nice to get it, but could he be trusted? “If I release you to show me your part of the bargain, you swear you will not harm me in any way?”

  “I do.” The demon sounded smug.

  “Then say it.”

  Zamiel huffed out a world weary sigh that, to Lukas’ ears, sounded vaguely disappointed. A sort of why don’t these kids today trust demons anymore kind of sigh. “I swear that I will not harm you in any way while we negotiate the terms of the contract. Happy?”

  Lukas left the protection of his pentacle, walked over to Zamiel’s, and scraped his boot over the outer circle of embers. Zamiel’s form seemed to flux and stretch for a moment, then the tall dark man stepped across the threshold. Lukas stepped back out of his way, but the demon put his hand on the young man’s arm.

  “This way,” Zamiel said, and snapped his fingers.

  Lukas felt a disconnection to his body. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they snapped back open, and he found himself in a glen surrounded by dark woods. It didn’t feel like the woods where his family’s cabin stood; this felt strange and younger, the trees not as tall and thick as the ones back home.

  Zamiel stood beside him. “Where are we?” he asked the demon. He had no idea where Zamiel had taken him. He could be somewhere across the world for all he knew.

  Zamiel put a finger to his lips. “Watch.” He gestured to the opposite end of the glen.

  Lukas did as he was bid, subsiding into silence as a young man came from a copse of trees on the left border. The young man—no more than sixteen—removed his clothes and then dropped to his knees. Lukas watched in fascination as the boy’s skin began to ripple, as his muscles rearranged themselves, as bones broke and reformed, all in the blink of an eye. When the transformation was complete, the boy was no longer a boy.

  He was a wolf.

  Lukas gaped. He had heard tales from his grandfather about men who ran as wolves, but he’d always thought they were stories. But now it turned out those stories weren’t just stories.

  Zamiel was beside him, shoving a long rifle in his hands. Lukas took it without realizing it, his body automatically moving into a shooting stance. The rifle he held was like nothing he’d ever seen before, but it felt natural in his hand.

  “Shoot,” the demon whispered in his ear, so close Lukas could feel the demon’s breath fan his cheek.

  Lukas looked around. The wolf was in the treeline, moving deeper into the woods. He didn’t have a clear shot. He shook his head.

  “Shoot!” Zamiel hissed, flinging his arm toward the wolf.

  Lukas raised the gun to his shoulder, sighted, and fired. He wasn’t expecting it to hit anything, let alone the wolf-man. Instead of embedding itself safely into a tree trunk, the bullet arced around trees, moving around every obstacle like a guided missile.

  It hit the wolf straight through the heart. The animal fell over in mid-stride, never knowing what hit it.

  Lukas stared in awe at the still body of the wolf, then at the rifle. It was more than he ever thought possible.

  “The bullets in that gun never miss what they aim for,” Zamiel said beside him. “I’ve offered you the quarry of a lifetime and the means to take them down. Surely that is worth the asking price.”

  Lukas felt his face harden into a scowl. This is what he wanted. “You have a deal.”

  Zamiel smiled, and his smile seemed to eat the world.

  Chapter One

  Kess crashed to the floor. Again. She was getting very tired of it. She pushed herself up from the mats that covered the hardwood floor and faced her opponent once more.

  Mebis grinned at her, looking like he had done nothing more strenuous than stroll out of the house for a cup of coffee. Kess was sweating like a thoroughbred that had just run the Kentucky Derby. One more reason not to like sparring with Mebis. Kess managed not to growl at him, but only just. She faced him, falling back into a fighting stance.

  His grin grew even wider, almost like he was mocking her. Kess frowned in concentration, her eyes watching his center of gravity like he’d taught her. Still, when he moved, she barely registered it. Kicks and punches came from out of nowhere, and Kess found herself backpedaling—again—to try to get out of the way of the blows she couldn’t block. She managed to get off a few hits of her own, but none of them even came close to connecting.

  And then Mebis caught her in another leg sweep and she went down to the mats.

  “CRAP!” she shouted in frustration, slapping her arms against the mat. “I hate sparring with you!”

  Mebis offered her his good hand to help her up. After a few more moments of feeling sorry for herself, she took it. He pulled her to feet easily. Kess tried not to look at his other hand, the one that had been mauled by a werehyena, but her eyes kept straying to it anyway. Mebis wore a black glove to cover the silvery scars of the bite marks, as well as to hide how little the muscles and tendons actually worked. The hyena’s teeth had done more damage than Mebis’ werejackal healing could ever hope to fix. Several surgeries later, the most he could do with that hand was hold light objects clumsily. He’d never be able to fire a gun or hold a sword in that hand again.

  Kess swallowed, her eyes skipping to her reflection in the mirror. She tried not to feel guilty about Mebis’ hand, but she couldn’t help the twinge she felt every time she looked at it. He had been wounded fighting her enemies. He’d been injured helping her. She couldn’t help feeling like it was very much her fault, even if he said otherwise.

  Still, it wasn’t like a bum hand slowed Mebis down any. Kess had taken to sparring with the werejackal for the past few months, as a way to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills when in human form. He’d been showing her just how little the loss of a hand meant to him when fighting her; Kess had yet to win a single one of their bouts.

  “Ready to call it quits?” His voice was only a little taunting.

  Kess debated about saying yes. She really was tired after an hour and a half of being run around the studio by this madman. He’d been trained to fight since birth; Mebis was a Keeper of Divine Order—an elite group of werejackal assassins that served the jackal god, Anubis. She was nowhere near his league when it came to fighting or endurance when in human form, but that didn’t mean she liked to eat mat every five minutes either. And she definitely didn’t want him thinking she couldn’t take another round.

  “Let’s go,” she answered, moving into the fighting stance he’d taught her.

  He shrugged, completely unconcerned one way or the other, as if this was not
hing more taxing than a walk to the mailbox. Kess gritted her teeth. He could at least pretend this was exercise for him.

  Instead of waiting for Mebis to make the first move, Kess went on the offensive. She stepped forward, always striking at his legs, trying everything she could think of to keep him off balance. She blocked his punches for the most part, ignoring the few that managed to land. They hurt, but not enough to get her to stop. She’d learned that it was when he brought his legs into play that she got in trouble.

  She swung low, attempting a sweep, but Mebis leapt back out of range. Kess let instinct guide her next move; she pushed her body forward, sliding along the mat to pop up close enough to him to attempt it again. This time Kess took out one leg. Mebis dropped to one knee, but managed to twist his body so he slammed his shoulder into her stomach at the same time he spun back up to his feet.

  Kess staggered back a few steps, guard still up. Mebis launched into a full speed attack, his legs and good arm flying at her so fast that all she could do was scrunch up to try and protect her more sensitive parts with her arms and elbows. With each blow her anger grew, and with each blow more of her control leached away. She was sweaty and hungry and tired, and she was sick of being beaten on like a sentient heavy bag.

  The small changes happened first: her vision grew sharper, her sense of smell amped up, and the pain slowly grew in her hands as they began to change to allow her claws to extend. Kess let the changes happen, willing herself to follow her instinct in this more than usual. She usually kept the leopard half of herself tightly controlled. Maybe now was the time to let some of it free.

  Kess sprang forward, surprising Mebis. She threw herself at him, pushing herself to try and match his speed. She saw his bad hand drop a bit from its position at guard, and she swung, claws extended. She didn’t intend to mark him, but it would be nice to let him feel the air rush past his face.

  He caught her wrist in his good hand when it was only inches from his eye. His dark eyes met her green-gold, but he didn’t let go of her arm. She was close enough to see the beads of sweat on his forehead and nose.