The Night Vision (Moon Murder Mysteries)

Prologue

Deep in the White Mountains, New Hampshire. Fifteen or so years ago…

Fearghal was stronger—he was the oldest and the largest—but Tighe was the fastest and he was the smartest. At least, that’s what Eoin always said.

Tighe hoped that was enough as he searched the forest around him, listening for anything bigger than a hare.

He crouched lower as he approached the clearing, tiptoeing and hopping from boulder to log to avoid leaving tracks or making a sound.

They were coming for him and this time, Fearghal would make an example out of Tighe.

As leader of their pack, Fearghal couldn’t tolerate such outright disobedience.

The leaves were fading, turning yellow and orange, and the grass was already brittle from the cooler, shorter days.

Soon, it would be time to hunt for moose and deer and Tighe would have to take a bear if he wanted to stay in camp for the winter.

The pelt was needed for warmth and a fresh kill would provide meat for the elders.

But Tighe had to prove his strength and bravery and that he deserved the warmth and safety of the Ossor camp.

If he didn’t find a large boar soon, Tighe would be banished and only able to return in the spring if he survived the winter alone.

Tighe was ready and wanted to be on his own, free of his Ossor brothers, but he’d promised to look after his birth brother, Eoin.

Neither were children, though, and Eoin wasn’t so little anymore.

He was taller than Tighe and almost twice as wide.

Eoin loved to fight and was favored by the elders.

Surely, their mother would see that it was time and free Tighe of his vow…

No one else knew that Tighe wanted to go, aside from Eoin, but he had given his blessing.

Truthfully, Eoin would probably be relieved to be free of the shame.

They shared a mother but Tighe wasn’t cut out to be an Ossor.

Not like Eoin was. From an early age, Eoin had yearned to go off to camp with the other Ossors, to leave their mother’s little cabin and run with the other “wolves.” He lived for the brutal horseplay and was one with the other brothers when they hunted as a pack.

Just a little more than a year separated them but Eoin had always made excuses for his older brother.

He would say that Tighe was more of a philosopher and a tactician, that he was a better leader than a fighter.

That was all true but Tighe found no joy in the brotherhood of calculating, ruthless men.

His heart was with the forest and he had a passion for knowing animals, not killing them.

He ate meat for nourishment and to survive, but only took what he needed from the forest. And while Tighe could fight and did whenever he had to, he wondered what life was like in the more civilized world of the suburbs and cities.

There was a different kind of violence—and a great deal of it—but aggression and abuse weren’t encouraged.

In camp, there was very little difference between a celebration and a brawl and one often followed the other.

Tighe had no desire to see a suburb or a city but he wouldn’t mind eating a meal without being punched in the face.

He wanted books and peace and a life in harmony with nature, not a life on the brink of survival.

Ossors yearned for a fight and spent their days training for battles that would never come.

Isolated and hidden from modern society, Ossors told old tales of glory in a world that no longer existed.

Unable to roam and hunt in this new world, they spent their days fighting and demanding fealty from each other.

Tired of the senseless aggression and cruelty, Tighe had snapped when he was ordered to tend to Fearghal and serve him.

It was tradition for the weaker Ossors to act as the “women” of the camp.

They stayed behind and prepared food, cleaned the camp, and did whatever they were told.

Including hand-feeding and bathing the stronger Ossors.

But some went too far and took too much pleasure in demeaning their weaker brothers.

Tighe refused to carry Fearghal’s shit into the woods and bury it so he had spent the morning running.

He would be safe once he was on the other side of the clearing, the southern boundary of the Ossors’ territory.

The Appalachian trail brought the hardiest hikers to the steep mountain and it was forbidden for Ossors to cross the small, rocky pasture.

Ossors weren’t to be seen or known by any outsiders and any contact was punishable by immediate exile.

Tighe took one last look around him, making sure he was alone, then ran for the clearing.

His feet were light as he bounded over fallen branches and brush and darted around a cluster of trees.

He was just a few yards away when a large body slammed into his left, throwing Tighe against the trunk of a tree and knocking the wind out of him.

“Have ye lost yer mind?” Eoin growled as he pinned Tighe to the tree by his throat.

Tighe snorted and attempted a nod. “Haven’ seen it have ye?” he asked, laughing as Eoin released him.

“Got yerself in a real mess this time. Fearghal wants yer hide and he’s plannin’ to truss ye up like a pig and leave ye out where everyone can hear ye moanin’ and groanin’. Says he’ll make ye beg to carry his shite.”

“I won’ do it.” Tighe stated firmly.

“Nah, yer too stubborn to take that from him,” Eoin said with a sigh and nodded at the clearing behind them. “Is that yer plan, then? Yer runnin’?”

Tighe shrugged. “Until he’s tired of lookin’ fer me. I can wait him out and see what the elders say,” he muttered but Eoin shook his head.

“They’ll tell ye to make amends and Fearghal will never take his foot off yer neck.

Ye’ll never be free of him unless ye fight him and ye won’.

” Eoin threw his hands up, exasperated. “I swear, ye could take him!” he whispered angrily.

“Ye act like yer scared or ye canna but ye just won’! Why, Tighe?”

“Ye know what it does to me,” Tighe answered quietly, ashamed to even speak about the madness—the lust for violence and blood.

It came from deep within and was a blinding haze of destructive rage that only ended when Tighe was completely spent.

“I’d rather suffer than lose myself like that, but I won’ suffer Fearghal anymore. ”

“No.” Eoin shook his head. “Ye shouldn’, but he won’ stop unless ye make him. I’ve tried to reason with Fearghal and I’ve thought about asking the elders if—”

“No!” Tighe hissed, then looked around them to make sure they were still alone. “They’d just laugh and say I deserve it if I won’ stand up for meself. And they’d be right.”

“Ye canna come back if ye won’ stand up to him. Do it and be done with it!” Eoin urged, grabbing Tighe’s shoulders and giving him a rough shake. “Just once! Show him—show them all—what happens when ye let the beast take over. Show them once and they’ll never challenge ye again.”

“And if I kill Fearghal or any of our other brothers?” Tighe countered. “How do I live with meself?”

“Why should it matter if it was a fair fight? Ye’d live and ye’d finally have peace!” Eoin was begging but Tighe felt sick.

“I could have that without spilling blood,” he said, gesturing at the trail beyond the clearing.

Eoin sucked in a breath, his eyes shimmering as he considered. “Out there? Where would ye go and how would I find ye? Ye canna come back if ye go out there like that, they’ll say ye were poisoned and that ye don’ belong no more.”

“Maybe I shouldna come back, then. I still have the map. I’ll stay on the Trail or close to it,” Tighe said as he patted his chest pocket.

They had found the map years earlier after the government man had been run out of their mother’s town.

While Eoin had no desire to be anything other than an Ossor, both had been enthralled by the thousands of miles of continuous trail that extended from the states of Maine to Georgia.

“I won’ get lost if I stick to the Trail and I can find me way back if ye ever need me,” he said, his voice catching as he envisioned his life without Eoin.

“If I need ye?” Eoin replied shakily. “I’ll always need me brother but yer always with me.” He pulled Tighe close and tight and they were both crying. “And I’ll always be by yer side, even if ye canna see me.”

“If ye ever go back to the village and see our ma, ye’ll let her know I didn’t let her down?” Tighe asked, making them both laugh.

Neither had seen their mother since leaving her to join the Ossors.

They had no way of knowing if she was still alive because once you left with the pack, you never came back.

You either remained until you died or you “retired” to one of the other Ossor communities to father more Ossors.

Returning to your mother’s clan was generally prohibited to prevent inbreeding.

“Aye, I’ll let her know but ye can let that go now, Tighe. We aren’t kids anymore and I can hold me own, thanks to all ye’ve taught me,” he added with a snort, then sobered. “Will ye be alright without me?”

“Me?” Tighe gave him a playful shove and pretended to be braver than he really was.

There was nothing in the forest to be afraid of, but Tighe had never spent a day without Eoin.

Their mother had placed a fussy newborn in Tighe’s lap and made him swear he’d never let his brother out of his sight.

It had never felt like a chore, more like a gift, and Tighe worried he was leaving half of himself behind. “Ye know I can take care of meself.”

“I know,” Eoin laughed softly and cupped the back of Tighe’s head. “But—”

Whatever he was going to say and the rest of their farewell was cut short by shouts, howls, and cackles as bodies crashed into the forest, surrounding them. Eoin tried to push him toward the clearing but Tighe held onto his arm, refusing to abandon his brother.

“There he is, the miserable welp!” Fearghal pointed at Tighe, sneering as the others jeered.

“Let ‘im be,” Eoin called back, daring Fearghal or anyone else to challenge him.

Fearghal laughed as he advanced on them. “Ye canna stand up fer yer sister forever, Eoin. Yer shamin’ yerself and the lass,” he said with a sad click of his teeth. There was a burst of laughter and cat calls.

Eoin chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like yer gettin’ lonely, Fearghal.

Canna tell the difference between a lass and a lad.

Too much of a fecken langer to get a hand or manage on yer own?

” he asked with a suggestive wiggle of his brows, causing another chorus of laughter and making Fearghal scowl.

“This isn’t about that, it’s about respect and knowing yer place. It’s time Tighe learned who his betters are,” he said and Tighe sneered but Eoin stepped between them, his eyes wild with anger.

“He already knows. That’s why he refuses to kneel and carry shite for a lazy clod.”

“Watch yer mouth!” Fearghal warned Eoin before giving his chest a hard shove.

Eoin slapped his hand away. “Watch yerself, shite fer brains.”

“To Hell with both of ye, then!” Fearghal fumed and swung but Eoin ducked. There was a loud grunt as Fearghal took a hard blow to the ribs, then stumbled back.

“Let’s go, then!” Eoin had his fists up and was ready when Fearghal ran at him.

“Stop!” Tighe shouted and attempted to separate them, but his arms were grabbed and he was dragged back as Eoin faced the pack’s captain.

They came together in a flurry of punches and muffled swears and everyone stood back as they grappled.

Fearghal was slightly larger than Eoin but they were both evenly matched and it wasn’t long before their faces and fists were battered and bloody.

The fight went on for several minutes and Fearghal was able to drive Eoin into a nearby tree, shattering the bark, but neither relented.

Then, Eoin gave Fearghal’s chest a push while hooking a foot around his ankle.

Fearghal was sent flying and landed on his ass.

He scrambled back, avoiding Eoin’s kicks and stomps until he found a large rock and grabbed it as he scrambled back to his feet.

There were loud boos and shouts of shame as Fearghal raised the rock, defying one of the Ossors’ greatest taboos.

They used weapons made of bones, antlers, and teeth for hunting animals because there was glory in that.

They faced each other with their fists—or their feet and occasionally their teeth—but they never raised a weapon of any kind against their brothers.

To attack a brother with a weapon was equated to hunting, reducing him to an animal and cheating.

But Fearghal ignored them, his face twisted with jealousy and embarrassment. It was obvious to Tighe that Fearghal resented Eoin and saw him as a threat. Everyone liked Eoin and the elders listened when he spoke. And they were obviously well-matched in size and skill.

“Put it down!” Tighe ordered, twisting and pulling despite the large hands locked around his arms. “Somebody stop him!” he cried but no one moved as Fearghal charged at Eoin, the rock raised in his fist.

Fearghal swung and Eoin dodged, the rock grazing his scalp.

He looped his arm around Fearghal’s, spinning him as Eoin swiped the rock from his grasp.

The rock was raised again but this time, it didn’t miss and there was a loud crunch!

when it came down on Fearghal’s skull. His eyes rolled and he staggered back, then fell in a limp heap.

A small puddle of blood quickly formed from the crack in Fearghal’s scalp.

The fight ended and nothing was said as Tighe was released and Fearghal’s body was lifted and carried back to camp.

“Ye should go,” Eoin told Tighe, nodding at the clearing. “I’ll explain to the elders that this was for the best,” he said, then pulled Tighe into another tight hug.

“I’ll miss ye.”

“Me too.” Eoin held onto Tighe and whispered that they were always together, that nothing could ever separate them.

“Ye’ll be alright?” Tighe asked, earning a wry snort from Eoin.

“They won’ be surprised and what can they say?” he replied and Tighe smiled.

“They will say that yer the new captain,” he predicted but his smile faded. “I know ye can protect yerself but who can ye trust now? Not one of them would risk his neck for ye.”

Eoin smiled, his eyes shining with tears. “Not one of them,” he agreed. “But I’ll never forget it and I’ll look out for meself, first. Do the same, ye hear me?”

“I hear ye. I always will,” Tighe said, then gave his brother one last hug before turning for the Trail.