Luna Proxy #1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Other Books

  Luna Proxy #1 (Werewolf / Shifter Romance)

  MAC FLYNN

  Text copyright 2016 by Mac Flynn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission in writing from the author.

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  CHAPTER 1

  I'd always heard a guy could change your life, but for me a guy changed my whole outlook on life. He also changed me, but that's getting a little ahead of my story.

  My story starts that day when I moved up in the world. Literally. The announcement came with a knock on my apartment door.

  My living quarters were, to be kind, small. There was a combination living room-dining room, and the kitchen was hardly more than the fridge and stove with two cupboards. My bedroom barely fit the bed, and the closet was the width of a skinny hamper and twice as tall. All other necessities, like a washer and dryer, and even a bathroom, were located down the hall in the communal area.

  Outside the few, grimy windows was the world in which I lived. Dingy apartment buildings stretched into the distance and were finally finished when the residential sectors collided with the commercial district. Those hulking, lifeless office buildings penetrated the sky with their artificial eyes hewn from countless particles of melted sand. The inhabitants of those buildings scurried to and fro along the gray sidewalks on their way to a boring existence.

  Beyond those towering behemoths, guardians of boredom, was the river. The serpentine water flowed through the city like the old Biblical evil. It promised a way out of this dingy place, but when it came to the ocean at the mouth some ten miles away there was nothing but an endless border of water. I was trapped.

  The knock on the door was the first sign that my caged existence was about to come to an end. I navigated past my couch and peeked through the peephole. My apartment manager stood outside in the dingy hall. I unlocked the knob and slid the chain off its hook, and opened the door. I leaned against the doorway and folded my arms over my chest.

  "I paid the rent last week," I reminded him.

  The apartment manager, Mr. Meyer, was a portly man on the seedy side of fifty. He was generally unshaven and his clothes were stained with the constant plumbing issues that plagued the ancient apartment building.

  He frowned and waved off my comment. "I'm not here for that. Old Mort passed away," he told me.

  I raised an eyebrow. "He was pretty old," I commented.

  "Yeah, and a good paying customer like you. That's why I wanted to offer his room to you," Meyer explained.

  Now that got my attention. The deceased Mort had held one of the apartments on the upper floors. Those apartments were coveted for their larger rooms, personal bathrooms, and even a washer and dryer. Mort's place even had an extra bedroom.

  "How much is it?" I asked him.

  "Two thousand dollars a month."

  I winced. That was almost my entire monthly salary. Net. "How long do I have to think about it?"

  "Mort's family will be by here later today to pick up his things." I hadn't even known Mort had family. Nobody ever came to visit him. "So you can give me an answer by Friday, but no later. You're not the only one who wants that place, ya know, and I can't afford leave it empty for long." I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. He could afford to leave it empty until the Rapture, but the miser would never admit it.

  "I'll give you an answer by then," I promised.

  He smiled and nodded his head. "Good. I'll talk to you then." He walked off, no doubt to make the same offer to every consistent-paying client in the lower floors.

  I shut the door and leaned my back against the entrance. "Two thousand. . ." I murmured.

  I'd need to get a roommate to fill that empty bedroom, but I could live with one person if it meant not having to share a bathroom with twenty others. A smile slipped across my lips. I knew just the person.

  I snatched my keys from the table beside the door, but paused in front of the mirror close to the door. The reflection of a young woman with long black hair tied behind her stared back at me. My long bangs were swept to one side. I was dressed in casual dark jeans and a white t-shirt, my favorite ensemble. My dark eyes frowned back at me. The world had left me jaded.

  I shook myself from my reflection and hurried out. The dingy hallway had various layers of wallpaper, and all of them peeled from the walls. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet and here and there were telltale signs of the rats that infested the communal kitchen. Halfway down the hall and to my left were the battered old stairs. The steps once had a fine carpet in their center, but that was worn through to the cheap wood. In case of a fire, that tinder-match assortment of wood would be the first escape route. In such a situation I doubted whether I could make it to the third floor.

  Another of the inhabitants shuffled from their room. It was a man nearly as old as Mort, and possibly in worse health. His skeletal frame rattled with a hollow cough, but he managed to give me a wide, toothy smile.

  "Good morning, Miss Leila," he greeted me. Only he greeted me by affixing 'miss' to my first name.

  "Hey, Ben. How's it going to day?" I asked him.

  He nodded his head like a bobble doll. "Very well, Miss Leila, very well, but I don't like this new dog at night. It howls too loud."

  I skirted past him and shrugged. "I'm sure the dog catcher will deal with it. Good morning."

  "Good morning, Miss Leila," he repeated.

  I reached the last door on my hall and knocked. There was a pause while I heard someone navigate their way through the limited space of the apartment. The door opened to reveal a tall man with shocking red short hair. His hair was cut short and straight. He wore a plain white shirt with brown slacks, and his feet were bare. The man flashed me a white, crooked smile and leaned against the door frame.

  "Good morning, beautiful," he greeted me.

  I looked past him and into the apartment. The place was a mess with chip bags strewn about the area. The coffee table was buried beneath coke cans and old newspapers. A rolled up newspaper was clutched in his hand. I thought about changing my mind, but the chance at my own bathroom, even one shared with a slob, was too tempting.

  "Meyer told me Mort passed away," I revealed.

  Red folded his arms across his chest and laughed. "So he offered you the place, too, huh?"

  "Yeah, and I wondered if you wanted to go in with me on the bill," I told him.

  He grin broadened. "Sounds like a good plan. We could make a couple of bucks by renting out the spare bedroom."

  "Then you'd have to sleep on the couch, and I don't have that great of a couch," I warned him.

  He sighed and shrugged. "You can't blame a guy for trying."

  "Actually, I can." My eyes traveled down to the paper in his hand. I frowned and nodded at the paper. "What are you doing with that?"

  He held up the paper between us. "What? Don't want me to be a paying customer to your employer?"

  "I just work in the mail room. Whatever's printed on those pages has nothing to do with me," I defended myself.

  "To be honest I didn't entirely buy it for your benefit," he admitted.

  Red opened the paper so the top headline faced
me. In black, tall letters was the headline 'Massive Fire Damages Legenda Labs.' Beneath the headline was a picture of one of the facilities across the river in the industrial district. Flames engulfed all three floors, and there was a large hole in the ground floor. I glanced over the lead paragraph.

  Authorities are investigating one of the leading research laboratories in the city after a gas leak destroyed part of the main facility. Witnesses reported hearing a large blast and saw flames shoot two hundred feet into the air. Twelve facility personnel are reported to have died in the blast. Their bodies have yet to be retrieved as the head researcher, Dr. Gail Scitus, blames city negligence for the accident.

  "So do you think they're telling the truth? About the gas leak, I mean," he wondered.

  I shrugged and handed back the paper. "I don't know. I don't believe anything until I see it for myself."

  "I heard some people saw something escape from there," he commented.

  "Probably some rabid minks," I guessed.

  "The thing was supposed to be huge. Like a bear," he persisted.

  "Then they should catch it pretty soon. Anyway, are you in on the apartment?" I asked him.

  He tucked the paper under his arm and grinned. "I wouldn't miss the chance for the world."

  "Good." I turned away from him and back down the hall. "I'll go tell Meyer and buy some stuff for the apartment. You get ready to move tomorrow."

  He stood at attention and saluted me. "Yes, ma'am!"

  I rolled my eyes. What had I asked for?

  CHAPTER 2

  I went downstairs to Meyer's office just off the dingy lobby. Papers and trash were scattered around the cracked linoleum floor, and the manager sat in a ripped leather chair with his feet on his desk. A slimy smile slid onto his lips and he raised his eyebrows.

  "So you want the place?" he guessed.

  "We want the place. Red and I," I told him.

  His face fell. "I don't need two people living in there. One of you can have it, but not both."

  "It's zoned for two occupants, isn't it?" I questioned him.

  "Yeah, but-"

  "And we can meet the terms you told me, so what's the problem?" I wondered.

  He slid his feet off the desk and glared at me. "Fine, you can have the apartment, but don't go taking in any boarders for that second room."

  "There is no second room. We each get our own," I assured him.

  He snorted. "Sure, and I'm Santy Claus."

  My eyes lowered to his gut. "Maybe you are, but we'll move in there tomorrow."

  "You'll have to put down a damage deposit," he warned me.

  I crossed my arms over his chest and smiled. "Only if you're going to vouch for all the damage that's already there."

  Meyer's face took on a sullen expression and he turned away. "Never mind. . ." he muttered.

  I walked out before he could pull any more of his bullshit on me. None of the apartments in his building were worth a damage deposit. Besides, he didn't want any building inspectors to settle a damage deposit dispute. That would've meant an inspection, and he paid off the usual inspector to keep the building from being condemned.

  Life in the city was good, but only for those who could afford that life.

  I walked outside. The new apartment would let me store more food, and with a guy in residence I would need a larger haul.

  I paused on the stoop and looked up and down the long, curved street. The apartment building sat on the crest of a hill, and both directions disappeared over the horizon. On either side of the street were dingy structures. Some had old air conditioners that stuck out of windows. Others had cracked windows repaired with various colors of duct tape. A few homeless sat in the shadows of the narrow alleys that broke the long lines of buildings into small blocks.

  I walked down the cracked steps and made my way to the small grocery down the block. It was a miserable city with its smoggy air and dirty buildings. The people wouldn't look you in the eyes except when they wanted to steal something from you. Gangs protected their block territory with knives when they outnumbered their enemies, and with guns when they didn't.

  I passed the mouth of a rat-infested alley. A few gang members in dark blue coats whistled at me.

  "Hey, baby, whatcha doing tonight?" one of them asked me.

  "Why don't you stop for a while?" another wondered.

  "Maybe later, boys," I replied.

  In this city rats came in all sizes. You had to throw them some cheese to get them off your back. My cheese were promises to get back to them. I never kept them.

  I bought a couple of things at the small five-n-dime and walked out of there with two paper bags filled with food. I paused and looked up at the obscured skyline. One of the buildings stood out from the rest as a behemoth of artifice. The structure was built in the shape of a capital 'I.' At the distance top sat a stone castle. The Middle Ages copy cast its shadow over the city and lorded over us like an ancient god from some forgotten past.

  The place was called Indigo Towers, and was home to the richest man in the city, William A. Fox.

  I shook myself from my reverie and started back home. The boys probably waited for me to keep my promise, so I walked back along a different route. This one took me down the street on the other side of the opposite block. That meant I had an alley to walk down to reach the stoop of my apartment building.

  I reached my turn and stepped into the dank, narrow passage that city officials called an alley. The brick walls of the parallel buildings were so close to each other that two men couldn't walk side-by-side. I skirted the overturned, rusted garbage cans and cardboard boxes people called home. Ragged blankets and empty food wrappers littered the place, but the homeless were gone. It was daytime, and that meant panhandling at the more populated and pitying corners.

  A noise came from behind me. I spun around. The bag in my right hand dropped to the ground as I reached behind me for the 9mm pistol hidden inside my coat. I looked for the danger. An empty can of beans stopped rolling ten feet from me. No one was in sight to make it move.

  "Hello?" I called out. I pulled out the gun. My eyes swept over the alley. There was only shadows and garbage cans, but anyone except a giant could've hidden behind all that trash. "Is anyone there?"

  Nothing. The alley was as still as the grave. I re-holstered my gun and picked up the soiled bag. It'd fallen into a puddle. Typical. I turned away from the can.

  "Ulric."

  My eyes widened. My pulse quickened. I whipped my head around. The alley was still empty, but I no longer felt alone. Someone was there, and they knew my last name.

  I strode forward, but with my gaze ever over my shoulder. Nothing moved, but that feeling of being followed never left me. I hurried down the long length of the alley and burst onto the street. The weak sunlight above me lessened the fear of the shadows behind me, but I still sprinted across the street to the stoop of my apartment building.

  I paused at the door and turned around. A single car passed by. The shadowed mouth of the alley stared back at me, but all was still and quiet. I frowned.

  "Just my imagination. . ." I murmured.

  I unlocked the door and walked up to my apartment. The dingy place would soon be forgotten, but not before I packed up everything that belonged to me. I put the food away and got to work on my bedroom. The bed belonged to me, but it was so old a move would probably make it fall apart. I'd buy a new one later.

  I went to the small closet and pulled out my clothes and shoes. A pile of cardboard boxes sat in one corner. I pulled them out and pulled off the lid of the top one. A silver chain with four beads at the bottom glistened in the dim light from the ancient bulb over my head. The center two beads were larger than the two on either side of them. I lifted the chain and held it in front of my face.

  The beads and chain were all made from silver. It was a gift from my mom, but I never liked the thing. The beads were heavy, and the clasp would never stay shut. I glanced at the closet. Now that my clothes d
idn't hang inside I could see the walls. The darkest corner had a small nail driven into the wall. I walked over and hung the chain there. It would be a testament to my having been there. A memorial, if you would.

  I finished my perusal of the boxes.

  "Junk. . ." I muttered.

  Most of it would be thrown out. I packed my clothes in the empty boxes and walked into the living room with my arms full.

  Something to my left caught my attention. I turned and looked out the window. The window led out onto the rickety old fire escape. I frowned. I swore I saw a shadow out there.

  I set the boxes down on the couch and went over to the window. It was shut tight, but a few good pulls got it open. I stuck my head out and looked up and down. Nothing. I pulled myself half inside when my eyes caught on something on the escape and beneath the window. I leaned down and plucked it off the grates.

  Hair. Dark brownish-black hair from an animal. Not human, but close to a dog or cat. I shrugged and opened my fingers. The fur floated down and slipped between the grates. Probably a stray cat exploring the area looking for free handouts.

  I finished my packing and waited for tomorrow to bring me a fresh beginning to a new life.

  CHAPTER 3

  The next morning came dull and early. I got up and fetched a key from Meyer to enter the new apartment. He grudgingly acquiesced, and I packed my few boxes into the empty rooms.

  The new apartment was three times larger than my old one, and my early arrival meant I had first choice of bedrooms. The two sat down a short hallway on opposite walls, and the bathroom door was situated at the end of the hall. I chose the bedroom on the right. The left one was larger, but there was only one window. The air in the city was dirty, but I liked to see the moon the few times when it made its appearance.

  The packing was finished before another, more important duty interrupted the task: work. I climbed into my beat-up old piece of junk of a car and drove to those towers of human achievement. The commercial district was a hub of activity as everyone scurried to their places of work. Buses and taxis sped past my car as other vehicles like my own surrounded me. I was boxed in, trapped like a rat in a maze of mankind's own creation. My only salvation was also of mankind's doing: the office job.