Lori Handeland: Marked by the Moon

“She’s right here,” Alex muttered. “And I wasn’t dirty.”

He sniffed. “That is a matter of opinion.”

“She’s cursed.” Cassandra got to her feet. “Just like you wanted.”

“You cursed me?”

Cassandra flushed. “Yes and no. I took away all evil desires—what we refer to as the demon—but not the necessity of shifting under the full moon.”

“Gee, thanks,” Alex muttered.

“You cannot be too different,” Edward said, “or he will know. You must fake the demon somehow.”

She could probably do that.

Alex glanced at Cassandra. “I still don’t understand how this is a curse. More like a blessing.”

“Yes and no,” Cassandra repeated. “Once the demon is removed you remember what you’ve done; you understand how wrong it is. The spell gives those without conscience a conscience.”

“Which, if I’d actually been eating people, would drive me kind of mad.”

“Exactly.” Cassandra dusted off her hands. “Well, my work here is done. Nice to meet you, but I really need to get back to New Orleans.”

She tossed all the voodoo paraphernalia into her backpack and headed for the door. New Orleans was definitely the place for her.

“Use the exit we devised,” Edward said.

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder. “I know better than to waltz out the front.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “Or the back.”

“Go,” Edward ordered, and with a roll of her eyes, Cassandra did.

When she was gone, Alex asked, “What exit?”

“We came in through a hidden connection with the building next door,” Edward said. “We don’t want Barlow to realize you’ve been in contact with me.”

“Does he know I once worked for you?”

Edward shrugged. “If he does, he also knows you don’t anymore. And he’ll have heard that I don’t suffer rogues gladly.”

“How do you suffer them?”

He lifted his brow. “If they step too far out of line, they do not step out again.”

“You kill them?” she asked, not surprised, not really.

“Why would I do that?”

Edward had always had the annoying habit of answering questions with questions, which weren’t really answers at all.

“You will report back to me in a month,” the old man said. “With detailed directions to his lair.”

Alex bristled. She couldn’t help it. “And if I don’t?”

“Until you give me what I want, I will not give you what you want.” He shrugged. “Remain furry as long as you like.”

He had her and he knew it. She would do his bidding as quickly as she could, if only to get rid of her tendency to grow a tail.

“How am I going to find this guy,” Alex murmured, “if the great and powerful Mandenauer couldn’t?”

Instead of responding, Edward shot her with the damn dart gun again. Alex wanted to grab the thing and shoot him, see how he liked it. But whatever was in those darts worked fast. Everything shimmied.

As she slid to the floor, Edward’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Don’t worry, Alex. He will find you.”

“Alexandra.”

Something wailed in her ears, so shrill, so loud, she’d never be able to go back to sleep. But she couldn’t seem to stay awake, either.

“Alexandra!” Shake, shake . “The police are coming.”

Whoever was doing the shaking stopped and slapped her across the face. Alex’s eyes snapped opened; Julian Barlow hovered over her.

“Wha—?”

She was confused, dopey, but things started to come back. The gun, the dart, Edward’s words.

He will find you.

The old man had been right again.

She sat up, then clutched her head. What the hell had he shot her with that time? If she ever saw Edward again, she was going to—

Alex wasn’t sure what. But something painful.

She glanced down and a low moan escaped. Not because she was still naked, but because she was still naked and covered in blood.

Her head cleared at the sight, and she peered around the room, which appeared to have been prepped for a scene in Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Return.

The trussed man lay on the floor. From the amount of blood on the guy, he was dead. From the amount on Alex, she’d killed him.

Or at least that was what Barlow was supposed to believe. Alex didn’t remember doing it, and there was one thing that made her almost certain she hadn’t—the voodoo curse that had removed the desire to commit evil acts.

But was killing a very bad man an evil act? Hard to say.

Someone had killed the guy. The situation smelled to high heaven of Edward—king of the setup. Except—

Would Edward murder a man just to cement Alex’s cover? That she wasn’t quite sure disturbed her. She was starting to wonder just who was possessed by a demon around here.

“Put this on.” Barlow shoved a pair of sweats and a T-shirt into Alex’s hands as she stood. Both read UCLA and looked much worse for someone else’s wear. They didn’t smell too bad, yet she hesitated. The thought of putting clothes over all the blood nauseated her, and besides—

There was another way to escape.

The change rippled beneath her skin, calling to her, tempting her with the promise of speed and power. She took a deep breath and caught the scent of trees; her eyes drifted closed and—

“We don’t have time to shift,” Barlow snapped. “Or at least you don’t.”

Her eyes opened. He was right. Damn him.

“Why do you care if I’m caught?” Stifling her disgust, Alex pulled on the clothes.

“I don’t care if you die screaming in the electric chair. But if they keep you behind bars until the next full moon —” He glanced at the dead man. “—and I’m pretty sure they will, there’ll be too many questions once they see what happens then.”

“Again, what do you care?”

“I hate questions.” His fingers dug into her arm as he dragged her toward the door.

“I hate you, ” she muttered.

“Aw, and here I was hoping you’d fall madly in love with me, just so I could spit in your face.”

Oh, boy, this mission was going to be so much fun. Especially when she nailed him.

Suddenly Barlow stopped, tilted his head, listened. Footsteps clattered closer. The police had arrived.

Alex tensed. What if Barlow decided to kill the cops so the two of them could go on their merry way? What would she do?

An evil, satanic wolf bitch would jump right in and help.

Decisions, decisions .

Luckily she didn’t have to make one. Barlow tugged Alex into the corner, then closed his eyes. His face became intent, as if he was trying very hard to imagine unimaginable things. A rumble came from deep in his throat; a flush darkened his skin. She could have sworn she caught the scent of…anger. And that she could smell anger distracted her for all of an instant before something else captured her attention entirely.

A weird, shimmery glow drifted downward; crystal waves cascaded between them and the rest of the world. A pair of officers thundered down the hall and into the room without a glance in their direction.

“Shit!” said one.

The other gagged. He must be a rookie.

“Who called this in?” the first demanded, probably more to get his partner’s mind off the mess than anything else.

“Dispatch said—” Cough. Cough. “Some old guy from the neighborhood.”

Edward. Asshole. He’d meant for Alex to get caught, or nearly so, to draw Barlow out.

As she and Barlow waited for the officers to leave, they remained crushed together in a cocoon created by Barlow’s magic, her nose pressed to his neck, his chin brushing the top of her head.