Storm Clouds Brewing
#85 of The Moonrise Chronicles
Ok, so I lied. But this one is short. Still sorting this mess out and my head is pounding. Yikes!
Maggie came down the stairs,
knowing full well that he wasn't going to be at the table sipping coffee. She
wasn't disappointed.Her mother was looking so much
better with the passing of each hour that despite her present ire, Maggie
managed a slight smile. A real night's sleep had made her recovery even more
remarkable. Her face looked like it had dropped ten years."Hello Maggie! Did you have a nice
night?""I did, but it soured upon my
waking. Did either of you see Edward
this morning?""No dear, we though he was with
you." "It
figures. Men are such assholes!" "Why
dear, what has he done?" She
stood silent for a moment. "He's gone off to confront my real father all by
himself. Everything he said and did yesterday was merely a smokescreen to blind
us." Her
mother looked stricken. "Your real father is a very powerful being. I would
rather try to reason with him than to battle him, but when it comes to you, I
know he will be steadfast in his dedication in having you with him instead of
with me. There is nowhere anyone can hide. He is faster than the storm wind
when he has cause. He is not like others of the Kind, trust me. You should know
that he..." "Mother!
Not now! Whatever he is, I'll deal with it when I find him or he finds me.
First I must find Edward. He may not have to worry about dying by anyone else's
hand if I find him before he manages to track his quarry." "But
dear, I think you should know..." "No!
Some other time perhaps." She
stomped out of the kitchen and back up to the bedroom. She was perfectly pissed
right now and no one was going to spoil that mood. She spied his phone where
she had dropped it. The asshole left without it so that no one could track him.
He was smart, but maybe he was too smart for his own good. Or was
he? She
grabbed it up and hit the recently called list. There was an unfamiliar number
in the calls, from just yesterday. On a hunch, she hit redial. It rang and
rang. Then she heard someone as they picked up the line. The voice on the other
end sounded both excited and alarmed. "Edward?" "Uh,
no. This is Maggie." "Maggie who? Where is Edward?" "He's
gone. Who is this?" She
listened for a while before paling. As
it was, she sat down on the floor during the rest of the conversation. Somewhere
in the back of her head this seemed familiar, or else she had concerns that
seemed have been subdued in the depths of her memory. She answered every
question that came to her, but she found she could ask very few herself. When
the conversation was done, she ended the call and set the phone down. A tear
formed in her eye. If he lived through this ordeal, she was going to render him
from limb to limb. He was an arrogant, misguided fool to be leaving everyone
behind. "It's a
good thing I'm a quick learner Edward Peterson. If you think you've given me
the slip, you have another thing coming." The
phone rang again and as it was the number she had just hung up on, she answered
it. The conversation was brief, but Maggie gave them the address of her
grandmother's house. "Just know that if you get here and we're not home, there
will be a note telling you where to meet us." She
closed her eyes and relaxed. In her mind she saw a montage of images; a road, a
forest, a stream. Focusing harder, she saw that she was looking out a window. She
adapted her thought to the perspective. It could only be a bus window. Edward
was on a bus. She was almost surprised by that. She figured he'd just lope to
his intended destination. Of course,
if he had, he would have left a scent
trail. The bastard was good. Still, she could see a seven and a six in his
head, which meant one of the highways leading east. It was a lot of ground to
cover, and the direction was no more than she would have expected. She nodded
grimly to herself. This bugging of another person's mind was unconscionable,
but all was fair in love and war. If he was going to run off, just like she
figured he might, then there was nothing wrong with being linked up inside him.
Whether he liked it or not, she was sticking with him through thick and thin. Her own
phone went off, nearly scaring her out of her wits. It was Leonardo. The plane
was due in several hours and he wanted an update on the situation. She told him
everything she knew, right down to the mystery call Edward had made. "You must let him do what he thinks is right
my daughter. He is no fool." "But
what about me?" She
could hear the amusement in his voice. "You
must also do what you think is right. You are your own person, and with a
strong and independent mind. You do not need to follow in his footsteps to
show your love for him. Do what is in your heart, for in the end, that may be
the only saving grace you have to offer." "I'm not sure but what that
wouldn't put us at cross purposes." "Then so be it. Nothing will drag you down
than not doing something you know to be right. But you must look inside you for
the answer. Seek it not from an outside source, not even from me. You alone
will live with whatever decision you make." "So will everyone else! If I
screw up and someone gets hurt, I have to live with that." "So now you understand his predicament." There was a little more
before they ended the call. She was struck with her own stupidity. He was only
doing what she would do. The fact was, she was somewhat jealous he had the
courage to go out on his own. He might appear to be acting macho and all
confident, but he was probably actually scared out of his wits. Shit!
Shit, shit, shit shit! Her
cursing went from being mental to being vocal. It attracted the attention of
her mother. "What is it dear?" "Nothing!
Everything! I hate being in love!" "It can
be a rather harsh emotion to deal with when you're so young." "Knock
it off mother! I'm not that young! I've aged considerably in the past few
months!" Maggie
turned suddenly and glared at her mother. "How old am I?" Her
mother took her by the hand. "As old as I was when I was your age." "Very
funny. You know, I just got thinking about werewolf biology. Grandmother hid my
records. Something is going on here, isn't there?" "Nothing
is going on that hasn't always been going on dear. Don't be so hard on your
grandmother. She did what she could do in a short amount of time. Sit down and
I'll explain it to you. Hopefully it will spark your old memories and they will
come back to you." Across
the state Edward was sitting on a bus seat, watching the scenery pass him by.
As a werewolf, he could have traveled faster, but had no wish to be followed or
to be discovered by some inadvertent nature study enthusiast. He knew how to
find his quarry, or rather; he knew how to get his attention. Bloodshed might still
be averted and it was his intent to try diplomacy first. Still, his visions
didn't bode well for that placid of an outcome. Across
the country, in an old Chevy Impala station wagon that had once been brand new back
in the nineteen seventies, there rode three people. All looked rather put out
by their situation. They rode in silence for much of their trip, but not in
total silence and not for the whole journey. They were aware that they were
heading into danger, but not the nature of the danger, nor what they might expect
from the outcome of their pending encounter. From somewhere
we will not presently divulge, in a much newer car of foreign make, two other
people drove down some lonely roads, on their way to Pittsburgh. The call they
had gotten - the first call; had been enough to rattle them to their core. The
second call threw them for a total and complete loop. They had avoided public
exposure for a while now, and had felt that their location was a secret. Being
in the public eye, even in its periphery, was akin to putting themselves onto a
billboard along a freeway. And
yet, they had been discovered. Now they were heading straight into the trouble
they had sought to avoid. And in
a plane sat an Old Italian master; painter, inventor, and genius. His delight
in flying over an ocean he had only ever glimpsed from the shoreline was only
mitigated by the knowledge that he was arriving in a land (unknown in his day)
to fight against something he knew little about. Battles between the Kind were
common enough during his first lifetime, but now, in this enlightened age, he
found his thoughts and abilities to be too far out of touch to be of any use. He ran
his hand over the box he had brought with him. The pope assured him it would
pass through customs. He didn't know precisely what customs was, in this
context, but he knew that if the box was to be opened by the wrong people, it
would not pass into this new country regardless of who was vouching for it. He
needed to get it to his friend before he met up with this enemy. The girl on
the other end of that wonderful talking device, that telephone; she had let
slip a few facts, facts that he found frighteningly familiar. There were things
in the world that were even more powerful than the Kind. In a
woods, deep in a vale rarely viewed by normal humans, stood a man, such as he
was. He was sensing the impending storm and he reveled in the upcoming chaos.
It was rare that he was able to stretch his limbs and engage in wanton
violence. For years he had been bored. Killing for food was a necessity, but
hardly a challenge. Hitchhikers were common, wandering pets even more so. The woods
were filled with deer, and on occasion, hunters dressed for gaining attention
to their presence. It was all so easy. He
could find no purpose in ever joining such a society. His own clan was all he
needed. New blood was a good thing, and he had a daughter that carried just
what was required to freshen the stock.
It had been a while since he had been able to track her down. The last
time; not that long ago in view of his age, the girl was just reaching her
ability to transform. Her mother and her mother's mother had been less than amiable
with his presence. It was his daughter. She was part of his blood. Even the
simple savages that roamed the cities and towns had laws regarding the
disposition of offspring. He was
nothing but patient. When one lived as long as his he and his kin did, you
could afford to be patient. There was little that bothered him and yet... he had
a nagging feeling in his brain. There weren't any werewolves who could sense a
link and yet there was now one who seemed to be toying with him. That was
somehow exciting and yet very concerning to his sense of self. There was
absolutely no one on this side of the ocean with that ability. He would have
been aware of his presence long ago. It wasn't like the werewolf population just
sprung from the ground as the result of sown dragon's teeth. He knew
where some of the lesser werewolves were located. He made no forays against
most of them, for there was little point in antagonizing lesser creatures. Few knew
he existed and those who did stayed far away. The only ones who thought to
confront him; well they became food. A dead werewolf digested just as well as a
regular human. They tasted different, but not enough to make them a regular
selection on the menu. He
stretched, soaking in the sunlight. Laughter escaped his lips when he thought
of how the normal, sad little souls who worked so hard to tame this world still
managed to remain ignorant of so many things. Moonlight was fine, but it was
sunlight that brought the warmth. His kin were spread around, savoring the rays
of potent power. Moonlight indeed! He sat
down and contemplated the future. He found that it was unlikely that this
newcomer would live out the week. He was curious about him, that much was true,
but it was mostly idle curiosity. Whoever he was, he was only a stumbling block
in his quest to regain his daughter. Let this man come if he cared to. He would
find nothing of value for his bother. Maggie was the only thing treasure worth having
and she wasn't here. That however would soon be corrected. Back in
a modest little house in the city of Pittsburgh, a young girl sat on the edge
of a bed, feeling elated. It was premature, but for the moment she was willing
to take half a loaf. Having anything go fully her way right now was beyond anything
more than childish wishful thinking. There was too much riding on the next few
days. If anything were to work out the way she might hope, it would take more
of a miracle than even the pope could provide.