Susan Michaels wasn't ready for this type of day. Granted, she does work for a tabloid but whoever thought she would live one of the stories. Not that she minds having a gorgeous naked man on her floor, but he just turned that way from a cat...right?
Ravyn wasn't having the best day in his life either. He was caught, thrown in a cage, and now he has to deal with a Squire that pretty much seems to be a pain in the ass. Granted, they all are that way.
Now with the cops after them, and nowhere to go, Ravyn will find out exactly how much Susan can be pushed before she breaks. Needing to find answers in a sea of secrets, they will have to depend on each other in more ways then one.
DARK SIDE OF THE MOON is a new novel in Sherrilyn Kenyon's Dark Hunter series. Staying true to form, Kenyon brings a wonderful storyline and characters to life. Like all the others, she deals out a heavy dose of yummy men, strong women, humor and action with a pinch of urgency to keep you reading from page one until the end. Although all of these books can stand alone, by reading them all you get a different view of the supernatural world and follow the lives of an extraordinary race.
Susan Michaels was once the hottest reporter on the
Beltway Beat until a major scandal ruined her life and
left her writing stories about alien babies and Elvis
sightings. Life as she once knew it is over, or so she
thinks until she gets a lead on the biggest story in
town:
The Seattle Slayer. She heads to the local animal
shelter,
expecting a tip on the latest rash of killings. Instead,
she gets a story about the mayor feeding citizens to a
ring of vampires... yeah. Just another day in her life.
Then she gets talked into adopting a cat she's allergic
to. Her first thought is to neuter the cat. But when he
turns out to be a gorgeous shapeshifting man who claims
to
be an immortal vampire slayer she thinks: not so fast.
Next thought: seek professional help.
Susan doesn't know what to believe, but as she's drawn
into a paranormal world, she comes to realize that the
story that could bring her credibility is too
unbelievable
to expose. Now it's no longer a question of bringing the
truth to her readers, it's a matter of saving lives and
souls, and her only ally is a man she's allergic to.
In the world of the Dark-Hunters, it's always dangerous.
But never more so than when one very human woman can
shatter their entire world with just one story. The only
question is... will she?
EXCERPT
Chapter 1
Seattle, 2006
βBoy Eaten by Killer Moths.β
Susan Michaels groaned as she read the headline for her
latest story. She knew better than to read the rest of
the
article, but something inside her just wanted to feel
kicked this afternoon. God forbid that she ever took
pride
in her work again...
Bred in a lab in South America, these top secret moths
are
the next generation of military assassins. They are
genetically engineered to think their way into an enemyβs
lair where they bite the neck of the target and infect
them with a concentrated poison that will render the
victim dead within an hour.
Now they have escaped the lab and were last seen heading
north, straight for the central U.S. Be on guard. They
could be in your neighborhood within the month...
Dear Lord, it was worse than sheβd imagined.
Her hands shaking in anger, she got up from her desk and
headed straight into Leo Kirbyβs office. As usual, he was
online, reading some poor slobβs blog and making copious
notes.
Leo was a short, lean man with long black hair that he
always wore in a ponytail. He also had a goatee, cold,
gray eyes that never laughed and a strange spider web
tattoo on his left hand. He was dressed in a baggy black
t-
shirt and jeans with a giant Starbucks travel mug at his
elbow while he worked. In his mid-thirties, heβd be cute
if he wasnβt so damned annoying.
βKiller moths?β she asked.
He looked up from his notepad and shrugged. βYou said we
were going to have a moth invasion, I just had Joanie
rewrite the story to make it more marketable.β
She gaped in total astonishment. βJoanie? You had Joanie
rewrite the story? The woman who wears tinfoil in her bra
so that the people with x-ray vision canβt see her
breasts. That Joanie?β
He didnβt flinch or miss a beat. βYeah, sheβs my best
writer.β
Talk about insult to injury... βI thought I was your best
writer, Leo.β
Sighing heavily, he swiveled his chair to face her. βYou
would be if you had any imagination whatsoever.β He held
his hands up dramatically as if to illustrate his
point. βCβmon, Sue, embrace your inner child. Embrace the
absurd that lives amongst us. Think Ibsen.β He put his
hands down and gave another weary sigh. βBut no, you
never
do, do you? I send you out to investigate the bat boy who
lives in the old church belfry and you come back with a
story about moths infesting the rafters. What the hell is
that?β
She gave him a droll stare as she crossed her arms over
her chest. βItβs called reality, Leo. Reality. You should
stop βshrooming long enough to try it.β
He snorted at that before he flipped to a blank sheet of
paper on his notepad. He set it beside his coffee. βScrew
reality. It donβt feed my dog. It donβt make my Porsche
payments. It donβt get me laid. Bullshit does that... and
I like it that way.β
She rolled her eyes at his beaming face. βYou are such a
toad.β
He paused as if an idea had struck him. He reached for
his
pad where he quickly scribbled something. βEmployee
Kisses
Toady Boss to Discover an Ancient Immortal Prince...
better yet, a god. Yeah, an ancient godββ he gestured at
her with his pen, βa Greek god whoβs been cursed to live
as a sex slave to women... I like it. Can you imagine?
Women all over the country will be kissing their bosses
to
test the theory.β Then he looked back at her with a
wicked
grin. βShall we try the experiment and see if it works?β
She screwed her face up at him in disgust. βHell, no. And
that wasnβt a come-on, Leo. Trust me, even with a
thousand
kisses youβd still be a toad.β
He was totally undaunted, mostly because the two of them
had been teasing each other this way since they attended
college together. βI still think we should give it a
try.β
He wagged his eyebrows at her.
Susan let out a long, exasperated breath. βYou know, I
would bring you up on sexual harassment charges, but that
would imply that you have actually had sex in your
lifetime and I intend to maintain that you are a prime
example of what happens to people when theyβre too
sexually frustrated.β
That brought another glassy look to his eyes before he
scribbled again. βSexually Frustrated Boss Turns Into
Screaming Lunatic. Disembowels Woman Who Excites Him.β
Susan groaned deep in her throat. If she didnβt know
better, sheβd think he was threatening her, but that
would
involve actual action on his part and Leo was nothing if
not a complete delegator. His maxim had always been why
do
it yourself when you can hire or bully someone else to do
it for youβ which meant heβd probably delegate her to
kill
herself.
βLeo! Stop turning everything into a cheesy headline.β
And
before he could respond, she quickly added. βI know, I
know. Cheesy headlines pay for your Porsche.β
βExactly!β
Disgusted, she rubbed at the sudden pain she felt behind
her right eye.
βLook, Sue,β he said as if he felt an uncharacteristic
wave of sympathy for her. βI know how hard these last
couple of years have been for you, okay? But youβre not
an
investigative reporter anymore.β
Her chest tightened at his words. Words she didnβt really
need to hear since they haunted her every minute of every
day. Two and a half years ago, sheβd been one of the
foremost investigative reporters in the country. Her
former boss had nicknamed her Hound Dog Sue because she
could sniff a story from a mile away and then run it to
ground and bring it home.
And in one moment of gross stupidity, her whole world had
come crumbling down around her. Sheβd been so hungry that
sheβd run headlong into a setup that had completely
destroyed her reputation.
Itβd almost cost her her life.
She rubbed at the scar on her wrist as she forced herself
not to remember that awful night in Novemberβ the only
time in her life when sheβd actually been weak. Sheβd
come
to senses, and then vowed to never let anyone make her
feel that powerless again. No matter what, this was her
life and she was going to live it on her own terms.
But for Leo whom sheβd met in college when theyβd worked
on the campus paper staff together, sheβd have never
worked in journalism again. Not that working for the
Daily
Inquisitor could ever be construed as true journalism,
but
at least it allowed her to pay off some of her gargantuan
debt and court costs. And though she hated her job, it
kept her fed and off the street. For that she owed the
little toad.
Leo tore a sheet of paper off and slid it toward her.
βWhatβs this?β she asked as she took it from his desk.
βItβs a web address. Thereβs some college kid who goes by
the name Dark Angel who claims sheβs working for the
undead.β
She stared at him. Oh yeah... her life was definitely a
lemon and she wanted her money backβ with interest. βA
vampire?β
βNot exactly. She says heβs an immortal shapeshifting
warrior who annoys the hell out of her. Sheβs local so I
want you to check it out and see what else she has to
say.
Then report everything back to me.β
Oh, this couldnβt be happening to her and yet that old
internal voice in her head was already laughing at
her. βShapeshifter, huh? Is this before or after she
drops
acid?β
Leo made an irritated noise. βWhy donβt you at least try
to get into the spirit of the job? You know itβs really
not bad at all. In fact, itβs actually highly
entertaining. Live a little, Sue. Let go of the venom.
Enjoy it.β
Enjoy it... enjoy being a laughingstock after sheβd been
working for the Washington Post... yeah. It was hard to
Carpe Crap when what she really wanted to do was get her
reputation back.
But those days were over. Sheβd never be a real reporter
again.
This was it. Her life. Joy, oh joyβ the bad luck fairy
had
really screwed her over.
No, she thought as her chest tightened again, that wasnβt
true. Sheβd screwed herself over and she knew it.
Heartsick, she turned around and headed back to her desk
as she looked at the blog address in her hand.
Itβs stupid. Donβt do it. Donβt even go to the site...
But before long, she did and there it was... a black page
with some hand drawn gothic artwork on a website called
deadjournal.com. But her absolute favorite part had to be
the header which read, βMusings from the Dark and Twisted
Mind of a Damned College Student.β
The girl, Dark Angel was certainly that. Her entries
showed the typical angst of an average student... who was
seriously delusional and in need of years of therapy from
between the walls of a padded room.
June 3, 2006, 06:45 am
Someone please shoot me. Please. I really canβt stress
the βpleaseβ part enough. So here I was trying to study
for my test tomorrow. Note the word βtrying.β So here I
am
engrossed in the complexities of Babylonian Math, which
isnβt really engrossing to say the least, when all of a
sudden my cell phone rings and scares the total shit out
of me because the house is even more silent than a tombβ
and trust me, Iβve been in enough tombs and crypts to
know
this for a fact.
At first I stupidly thought it was my brother harassing
me, until I looked closer at the number and no. Not him.
Those whoβve been reading my journal know that itβs my
boss, cause who else would call me at this ungodly hour
and think that I have no life whatsoever except to serve
his every whim and need? Really, take my advice and never
work for an immortal. They have no respect whatsoever for
those of us with finite lives.
5:30 in the morning, there he is. Calling to tell me that
heβs just killed off a bunch of undead people (okay,
vampires, but I really hate to use that word cause it
draws out all sorts of lunatic weirdos who want to know
how they too can become vampires and where to find the
ones I know which wouldnβt do anything but get you
killed,
but back to my original thought) and that I need to pick
him up since itβs about to be dawn and he canβt make it
home before the sun turns him into grilled toastβ you
know
this isnβt the way to motivate me since a grilled toast
boss = one happy Dark Angel.
Now hereβs where I tirade against the fact that if he
were
just a regular shape-shifter, I wouldnβt have to go get
him. Heβd be able to get home without help. He could just
teleport himself into the house, but back when he made
the
bargain to become immortal, that ability was taken from
him, along with the one that allows him to travel through
time. And why was this taken from him? One reason. To
make
my life a living hell of servitude, thatβs why.
Oh and I have to bring him clothes since heβll most
likely
be in cat form at Pikeβs Market which is the only way he
can be in daylight and not be a crispy critter (really).
So when he switches back into human form heβll be naked
and will need clothingβ yes for those with gutter-bent
minds, heβs a buff god in theory, but since Iβve known
him
all my life itβs like seeing your brother nakedβ can we
say βew?!β
All right, it pisses me off, but I go since he pays me
and
if I donβt heβll tell on me again and get me into all
kinds of trouble, none of which I want to hear right now.
So after I hoof my butt over there to get his sorry ass,
what do I find?
Yes, you guessed it. Nothing but a couple of homeless
people who think Iβve lost my mind as I search for
my βcatβ while holding male clothing which I slowly
remember wonβt do any good since he canβt shift back into
a human until after I get him home. That rank bastard and
his pranks. A curse of poxes on his head. Better yet, I
hope he gets fleas (I would wish ticks, but then Iβd
probably get lyme disease from him). So fleas. Lots and
lots of fleas!
Iβm sure Catman Moron found some bimbo to shack up with
and shag for the day, but damn it all. Couldnβt he have
called and told me that? No. So here I am, chugging
extra-
caffeinated espresso and hoping I stay awake for my test
this afternoon. Thanks, boss. Appreciate it. You are the
best. Whereβs animal control when you really need them?
Better yet, get me an ax so I can cut off his head and I
donβt mean the one on his shoulders.
Mood: Pissed
Song: Everything About You: Ugly Kid Joe
Susan let out a tired breath as she rubbed her brow. Oh
yeah. The girl needed some serious professional help. But
what the hell? It wasnβt like she had anything else to do
other than go and investigate the Immortal Catman of
Pikeβs Market.
Susan cringed at the thought. βNow Iβm doing it too...
Cheesy headlines are us.β Groaning, she rubbed her
eyes. βYou know, if my life was a horse, Iβd shoot it.β
###
No matter the location or day, every animal shelter in
the
United States seemed to always hold the same pungent odor
of cleaning antiseptic mixed with wet fur. And even
though
the shelters were warmed, there was always an odd chill
to
the air. One that penetrated straight to the bones.
Today was no different. The cat cages were lined along
two
walls where some of the felines slept while others
played,
ate or groomed.
All except one.
That one crouched as if ready to kill and it watched
everything around it with the sharp intellect of a
vicious
predator that belied itβs smaller size. It wasnβt like
the
others. Only a fool would make that assumption.
At first glance, it appeared to be a regular Bengal house
cat, but if one looked closer, it was obvious that it
didnβt hold quite the same facial characteristics that
marked the Bengal breed. In fact, it looked just like an
Arabian leopardβ only it weighed a scant fifteen pounds
instead of sixty.
More than that, its eyes were an eerie shade of black...
an unnatural color for such a beast. And if one were
really paying attention, he would definitely notice that
while the other cats wore plain white collars, this one
wore one of silver. It was a very special collar that
caught in light and flashed with a preternatural gleam.
And what made it so special? Certainly not the thinness
of
its strap or the fact that it had no buckle on it. No. It
was the unseen circuitry that ran along the underside of
the silver fabric. Circuitry that had been designed to
send out inhibitors that couldnβt be felt by man or
beastβ
unless the creature was both man and beast.
A devilish invention by those who wanted some control
over
the magick of others, this collar kept this particular
cat
in its current feline form.
And that seriously pissed the cat off.
Ravyn hissed as a man ventured near his cage. If he could
get out of this, heβd tear the bastardβs arms off and
beat
him with them. But unfortunately, he couldnβtβ that would
require him to actually have arms of his own, which in
his
current form he didnβt possess.
And it was all his fault. Damn him and his libido anyway.
If heβd simply trotted past the sex-goddess in the
extremely short skirt at dawn, heβd be happily home by
nowβ
well maybe not happily since heβd have to listen to
Erika
bitch, but certainly heβd be home in his own bed and not
locked in damned this cage.
What could one little stroking possibly hurt?
He looked at the bars on the cage and hissed at the
apparent answer. Yeah. Ash would have a field day with
him
on this one.
Provided he got out of it. As it stood, he wasnβt so sure
he was going to make it this time. So long as he wore the
collar, his powers as both a Dark-Hunter and Were-Hunter
were seriously restricted. As an Arcadian Were-Hunter,
his
natural form was human. To be trapped as a cat during the
light of day was both painful and extremely
disconcerting.
Even with the metriazo collar on that inhibited him from
using his paranormal powers, there was only so long he
could hold this form before his own magick turned on him
and killed him.
It was one frightfully sobering thought.
βHowβs he doing?β
Ravyn narrowed his eyes on the tall, blond male
veterinarian who was an Apollite. As a rule, most
Apollites stayed out of the war that raged between the
Daimons and the Dark-Hunters. It wasnβt until an Apollite
started stealing human souls to elongate their short
lives
and thereby becoming a Daimon that Dark-Hunters bothered
with them. After all, that was the whole reason Dark-
Hunters had been created. They were the ones who killed
the Daimons so that the stolen human souls could be
released before the Daimon possession destroyed them.
Obviously this Apollite wanted a head jump on being
hunted.
The human assistant, who was a short man around the age
of
thirty with black hair and a shaggy beard, answered.
βHeβs
pissed and glaring. What else?β He cocked his head as he
studied Ravyn from a safe distance. βYou think heβs
Arcadian or Katagaria?β
The vet shrugged before he bent down to look into the
cage. βI donβt know, but Iβm hoping for Arcadian.β
βWhy?β
Ravyn bared his teeth at the prick who smiled in
response. βCause if he is, the magick thatβs holding him
in cat form will eventually cause his head to explode.
Itβll be painful as hell before he dies.β
The assistant laughed. βAnd no nine lives to bring him
back. Damn shame. But I like it.β He turned to look at
the
doctor. βWhat say you neuter him while heβs like this
too?β
βYou know, you have a great idea...β
Ravyn snarled as the vet reached for the clipboard that
hung outside his cage and made a note. Ravyn hissed at
him
before he sent out a mental note to the Apollite vet.
βYou
neuter me, you bastard, and Iβll dance in your entrails.β
That bit of spite came back on him tenfold as it caused
the collar to constrict and shock him.
The vet smirked before he hung the clipboard back on the
peg. βI donβt really see how youβre going to do that in
your current position. Do you, furball?β
The human assistant high-fived the vet. Then laughing,
the
two of them left him alone with the rest of the animals.
Ravyn charged the bars of his cage, but all he succeeded
in doing was hurting himself. Damn them all. How had they
managed to get him trapped like this? How had they known
where to find him?
One minute heβd been hiding in the shadows of Pikeβs
Market, waiting for his Squire, Erika to come get him,
and
the next thing heβd known that puta in the red skirt had
grabbed him and snapped the collar around his neck before
he could fight or sense her intentions. Once the collar
was in place, heβd been powerless without his magick.
Keeping a tight grip on him, the woman had wrapped him in
her shawl, picked him up and handed him off to a group of
waiting humans whoβd paid her fifty dollars for her
services. Afterward, the humans had tossed him into the
local animal shelter.
And here he would stay until either his head exploded
from
the inhibitors in the collar or he figured out someway to
escape this cage without having either his magick or
opposable thumbs.
Yeah. Great odds there... not. His only hope was that
Erika would get concerned when he didnβt show up after
nightfall...
Wait, he was talking about Erika Thomas here. Erika. The
girl who liked to pretend she didnβt have to work for
him.
The girl who went out of her way to avoid him and her
duties. She wouldnβt notice for days that he wasnβt home.
No, the little mutant would throw a party the instant she
found out that while sheβd ignored his absence, some mad
Apollite had gelded his ass and left him impotent. Then,
sheβd call all her friends and laugh about it.
I am so screwed...
###
Susan sighed as she toyed with the small gold medallion
that she kept in her purse. Only a hair larger than a
silver dollar, it didnβt look like much, but on the night
sheβd won it, itβd held even more value than a hundred
million dollar lottery ticket.
She paused to look at it as old memories assailed her.
Sheβd won the Sterling Award for Investigative Reporting
for Politics in 2000. Sheβd been on top of the world that
night...
Clenching the award in her hand, she cursed under her
breath. βJust sell the damned thing on eBay.β
But she couldnβt and she hated herself for that. It was
hard to let go of a glorious past even when all it did
was
bring her pain. Maybe she shouldnβt have been so cocky
back then. Maybe this was her comeuppance.
Bullshit. She didnβt believe in that kind of divine
retribution. She was where she was because sheβd allowed
herself to be deceived. There was no one to blame but
herself. Sheβd been stupid and trusting, and she would
pay
for that one moment of fallacy for the rest of her life.
Her phone rang.
Grateful for the interruption to her morbid ruminations,
she picked it up and answered. βSusan Michaels.β
βHey, Sue, itβs Angie. How you doing?β Her buddy sounded
a
little less than upbeat, but it was still good to hear a
friendly voice.
βFine,β she said as she tucked her award away into her
purse. If anyone could make her feel better, it was
Angie.
A smart-mouthed vegan veterinarian, Angie had a way of
cutting through the thick of any matter and pointing out
the ludicrousβ it was a truly a gift Sue
appreciated. βWhat are you up to?β
βFive by five as always.β
Susan rolled her eyes. The statement wasnβt just a
reference to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer show Angie
loved, it was also the way Angie described herself since
she was round and cuddly.
βIβll only give you five by three... maybe.β
βYeah, right. Trust me, I am as wide as I am tall, but
thatβs not the point of this. You got a minute away from
your lunatic boss?β
βYeah. Why?β
βCause Iβve got some news that I think youβre going to
want to hear.β
In spite of Angieβs dire tone, Susan smiled. βHugh
Jackman
has divorced his wife and happened upon my picture in
some
old article and decided that Iβm the woman for him?β
Angie laughed. βDamn, you have been working for that
paper
for a long time. Youβre now starting to believe the
rubbish you publish.β
βHar, har. Is there a real point to this conversation?β
βYes, there is. You know those strange missing person
reports thatβve been going on for awhile? The ones you
told me you thought might be related?β
βYeah?β
βThey are.β
Susan froze as her old reporter self leapt to the
forefront. βHow do you mean?β
βI canβt say anything more on the phone, okay? In fact,
Iβm on a payphone and you donβt want to know how hard one
of these things is to find nowadays. But I canβt take any
chances. Can you come by work in about an hour to look
for
a pet?β
Screwing her face up, Susan let out a disgusted
breath. βEw! Iβm deathly allergic to those things.β
βTrust me, itβll be worth your wheezing and then some.
Just be there.β The phone went dead.
Susan hung up as a thousand scenarios went through her
head. Sheβd heard real panic in Angieβs voice. Real panic
and that wasnβt like her friend. This was a serious
situation and Angie was scared.
She tapped the phone with her fingernail as her thoughts
scattered into a million different directions. But they
all came back to one single thingβ this odd call just
might be her own road back toward salvation and
respectability.
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