Chapter 34 Shadow of the Moon
The smell of fresh coffee lingered in my kitchen, even though I hadn't taken more than two sips before my phone vibrated against the counter. It was before six in the morning. Nobody called at this hour with good news.
"Hello," I answered, my voice still rough with sleep.
"Hey, Aurora, it's Bracken." His voice came through lower than usual. "I need your eyes on something."
I straightened, instantly alert. Detective Bracken of the Ravenholde PD didn't call for casual chats. Especially not before sunrise. As my primary contact in the mundane police department, he reached out primarily when something crossed that delicate line between normal and what-the-actual-fuck.
We'd been dancing this dance for years now.
Bracken would call, voice filled with a mix of frustration and relief—frustration at the weird shit that kept landing on his desk, relief that he had someone to dump it on.
Me. The man was sharp as a tack and twice as pointy when pissed off.
He'd seen enough in his twenty years on the force to know when a case wasn't going to fit in his neat little detective boxes. That's where I came in.
"Let me guess," I muttered into the phone, "someone's dead in a way that doesn't make sense."
"Close. There have been three disappearances in ten days. My colleagues think they're related." He paused, and I heard the soft rustle of paper. "I'd rather not discuss details over the phone. Can you meet me at the West Boulevard apartments? Building C, apartment 312?"
The man’s coworkers should trust him more. He had instincts that sometimes made me wonder if he didn't have a touch of a gift himself. He also had decades of experience under his belt. I had no doubt he was right. "Give me twenty minutes."
"Make it fifteen. I want your opinion before the circus arrives."
The line went dead, and I tossed my phone onto the bed. Detective Bracken wasn't one for pleasantries on a normal day. Something in his voice sent a chill through me. Fear? No. Uncertainty. It was not knowing what could possibly be going on.
I pulled on dark jeans, a charcoal sweater, and my boots, then grabbed my leather jacket from the hook by the door and was out the door in under two minutes Bracken wouldn't have shaved the time if it wasn't serious shit.
I grabbed my emergency kit. It was a small leather pouch filled with Eve's special charms and potions.
My fingers brushed over the smooth crystals.
The protection amulet had saved me from things Bracken couldn't begin to comprehend.
The one I used most was the residual magic detector.
The small obsidian disk would pulse with a soft blue glow if supernatural energy had been used in the area.
Behind that was the quartz that would turn red if demonic activity had been involved.
Eve had crafted each one with her unique brand of magic.
She was the most powerful witch who ever lived.
My alpha mating her had been the best thing to ever happen to the pack.
And him. Of course, I was biased since she and I had become close friends.
I considered calling her and settled for texting Faith instead.
There was a chance a demon could be involved.
I wanted her to be ready to respond if I needed her. I’d let the others sleep.
My car rumbled to life. I swear the engine was protesting the early hour as much as I was.
But unlike me, it didn't have a choice in the matter.
The forest surrounding my cabin was pitch black.
The towering pines swallowed what little starlight filtered through the clouds.
My headlights cut sharp white paths through the darkness, catching the occasional reflective eyes of night creatures watching from the shadows.
The winding dirt road that connected pack lands to civilization snaked through the forest.
As I pulled onto the empty street, I mentally prepared for what was coming.
The apartment was on the nicer side of town, which made this all the more interesting.
Rich people didn't just disappear without a trace.
They had security systems, nosy neighbors with nothing better to do than watch their comings and goings, and enough social media presence to document their every damn breath. That was enough to put me on edge.
I parked a block from the West Boulevard Apartments. It was a mid-range complex with just enough security to give residents the illusion of safety. Nothing sophisticated enough to keep out someone—or something—determined to get in.
Bracken waited by the entrance. His posture was rigid and tense. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and a day's worth of stubble covered his jaw. He nodded curtly when he saw me.
"Thanks for coming," he said before swiping a keycard to let us inside.
"When have I ever passed up an invitation to a crime scene before dawn?
" I replied, following him through the sterile hallway.
My senses immediately cataloged the environment.
The smell of cleaning chemicals was thick in the air.
I caught hints of last night's takeout meals.
There was also the lingering scent of too many humans living in close quarters.
"Victim's name is Mira Collins," Bracken explained as we climbed to the third floor.
"She’s twenty-six, an IT specialist, and lives alone.
She didn't show up for work yesterday. Her boss called when she missed an important client meeting.
That is completely out of character, apparently.
The building manager did a welfare check last night and found the apartment empty. "
"And you're calling me because...?"
Bracken shot me a look. "Because it's the third disappearance with the same pattern in ten days.
There are no signs of struggle. No forced entry.
All of the victims simply vanished from locked rooms." He stopped outside apartment 312.
Then handed me a pair of latex gloves before pulling his own on and unlocking the door. "There's something else."
The apartment door swung open, and I immediately tensed. Beneath the normal scents of a young woman's living space—floral shampoo, microwave meals, scented candles—lay something else. Something was wrong. My wolf stirred and her hackles rose.
"What is it, Bracken?" I kept my voice neutral, but my senses were screaming. I couldn’t identify what was bothering me.
He guided me through the immaculate living room to the bedroom doorway. Then stood there and pointed at a small, strange symbol drawn on the doorframe. It would have been easily overlooked. The curved lines formed what looked like an ancient hieroglyph.
"This was at all three scenes," he said quietly. "The lab says it's animal blood, but they can't identify the species."
I leaned closer, careful not to touch it. "And there were no signs of struggle?" I looked around, confirming nothing was out of place in Mira’s apartment.
"None. The door was locked from the inside, and the windows were secured.
Security cameras in the hallway show Mira entering yesterday morning after her morning run.
No one else came or went." He rubbed his jaw.
His frustration evident. "My colleagues think she just took off.
Same with the others. But people don't just vanish.
And they definitely don't paint weird symbols before a spontaneous vacation. "
I moved into the bedroom, letting my enhanced senses explore. Clothes were laid out on the bed. Her morning routine had been interrupted. A laptop was open on the desk. The screen was dark. There was also a half-empty water glass on the nightstand.
"Where are her personal effects?" I asked. "Phone? Wallet?"
"Still here. Her purse is on the kitchen counter with everything inside. Even her house keys." Bracken watched me carefully. "That's why my colleagues are worried. No one goes missing without taking essentials. Same story with the others."
My gaze fell on a plastic evidence bag on the desk containing a light jacket. "This hers?"
"Yeah. I found it on the floor by the closet. There's nothing remarkable about it."
I picked up the bag, bringing it closer to my face under the pretense of examining the material. The moment I did, my wolf slammed against my consciousness. A growl built in my throat that I barely suppressed.
There was a scent so out of place it might as well have been screaming.
It was metallic, like blood, but old. And dusty.
It reminded me of crypts and forgotten tombs.
I'd smelled death before—it came with the job—but this wasn't just death.
This was something that had been dead for a very long time and shouldn't be moving among the living.
I set the bag down carefully. "Have you documented the scene fully?"
"Yes," Bracken confirmed. "Why?"
"I want to take a closer look when your colleagues are gone. There's something here that I can't pinpoint, and I need more time."
His eyes narrowed. "So, you think there's something unusual going on."
I held his gaze. We'd danced this dance before.
Him asking for confirmation of something he couldn't quite put into words. Me giving just enough to help without revealing the existence of supernaturals. Keeping the Shrouded Nation secret was the top priority for our survival. Mundanes panicked and attacked what they didn’t understand.
"I can't say for certain yet," I answered carefully. "But you are right to connect these disappearances."