The Hunters moon

Let It Rain

Draven

For decades time went slow. Like time itself was crawling at a pace only the Gods ramble on about. Now, it feels like it’s passing by all at once. That crawl now a full on sprint to the finish line. With freedom so close, I can taste it on the back of my throat. It’s a rich taste, one that devours me whole, consuming any remaining thought in my head.

My mask turns over and over within my hands. Everything inside me keeps saying to call off tonight. To have every single soul I control out looking for this artifact. But they look up to me, worship me. Who am I to deny them their freedom when it is so close.

A knock rumbles against the door of my study. “Enter.”

Aurora’s heels click on the marble floors. “Everything alright Lord, Draven?”

“Just Peachy.” My eyes won't leave my dark green mask. Sharp edges twist, meaning to look like wolf ears but are in fact horns, the teeth cutting into sharp points, with a slightly longer snout. Everything to resemble the beast within. How belittling it is to keep these acts up in order to bring those in to feed upon. Still, in order to keep everything rolling smoothly one must continue to play their part. “How are the streets?” I ask, knowing they are full of people.

“Busy as ever.”

My smile does not meet my eyes. “Good, that’s how we need it.” Placing the mask on my desk I stand then walk over to the mirror. “Can I trust you to round up the men tonight”

Her eyes shine. “Of course.”

Adjusting the hem of my turtleneck, I watch as her eyes meet mine through the mirror. Her eyes are calculating my every move. It’s uneasy to see. To settle her thirst for answers, I give a small amount of information. “I’ll be out for most of the day.”

“An important date?” She jokes.

Picking up the letter, I slip it into my back pocket. “Something like that.”

Her eyes flare but she knows to ask anymore. We exit my office in silence. I don’t even bother to lock the door, not much use when you live in a house full of busting men.

Walking over the granite tiles the heels of my shoes click. It’s quiet this morning. Not a soul stirs within the confidine of these walls. Everyone’s energy has been spent from the night before to encourage the roar of the crowd. Slipping into the automobile, my fingers find the button for the garage. It opens with ease and within moments my foot is pushing onto the gas.

From the intensive research the best places to check are the graveyard, the two churches, and the so called catholic school. There’s a graveyard on either side of the territory, one for us, the other for Astar’s creatures. Considering Astar knows what’s at stake I’m more than sure he’ll allow my passage through. The real trick will be working around the other creatures of the night.

Racking a hand through my hair. My mind places over where to check first. Siding with the easier of the two, I head to the only logical choice. The graveyard.

Parking far off the property, I head in to see Grey. He sits with his feet up on the desk watching the small tv in the corner, a coffee in hand. I tap my knuckles against the open door. Slowly he lowers himself until those old eyes meet mine.

“Lord Draven, do forgive me.”

I wave him off. “At ease. A couple questions for you,” pulling the vacant seat and settling myself in, Grey quickly clears the desk with the mountains of paperwork. Grey is someone I can trust, someone who’s always kept his mouth shut even if an outsider comes in. He’s assisted with us weaving in and out of the FBI’s eyes for a long time. Allowing us to bury those who should not be here in unmarked graves. Also he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a real parent for the last sixty years. “Roughly, how many people do you think we have buried here?”

His salt and pepper brows shoot up to his hairline. Resting back into his chair, Grey crosses his legs then folds his finger in his lap. “Now, are we talking on paper or otherwise?”

A hand runs through my hair gumbling up the mess further. The Hunter's moon shall be high in the sky tonight. The sound of a ticking timebomb can be heard at the back of my mind. One that will detinate if I fail at this mission. Grey will have many questions. Questions that can all be answered if he is on the same page as me. Sighing, I go for the quickest route to the problem. Pulling the letter out from my back pocket I toss it to him.

Leaning forward the old man scans it. Like the letter will levitate from the desk itself and rip him to shreds. Not that I'd put it past mother to enchant it. Easily, Grey plucks the letter from its resting place. Opening it his eyes scan the contents. His brows furrow together, he reads it once, twice, then possibly a third time. The only npise in the office being the low hum of the old TV. Finally, the old man places it down, he then pulls something from the bottom drawer. A whisky bottle clinks on the dest. Grey pours a generous amount into his coffee cup.

“Digging up graves can bring on unsightly things.” He swirls the liquid, "Specifically the graves your mother has contributed to."

A hand passes through my hair once more. Another realization settling in what mother has done to the beings that have passed through our gates dawning on me. Even if she hasn't been here in a decade or so the lasting presence of her cruelty hangs within the very air. “I know but what other choices do I have? Stay here for the remainder of my immortal life?”

Grey sit’s a separate glass down for me. Sliding the bottle over to me, my fingers grasp it easily. Pouring myself an even larger amount, I take a swig.

Grey tilts his mug back and forth. “Would settling down be that difficult?”

My silver eyes blaze over to him. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He jokes.

The look on my face stays sullen. “Oh yes, and I’m sure whoever is bound to me would adore being stuck in this hell hole with me.”

Grey’s eyes cast down, the look within them is something unreadable. “It was just a suggestion, Lord Draven.” Picking up the mug he twists it within his own hands, as if it's a token from beyond the grave. “You never know who you’ll meet, or who you’ll encounter, you may even grow to love this place.”

“Grey, If I ever begin to like this place do us both a favor and put the silver in my back for me.”Rapping my knuckles on the oak wood, I dismiss our little meeting. “Anway, the clock is ticking, I was thinking of starting on the far east of the gravesites.”

The old man raises a wary brow at me. “Where the members of the holy crown’s reside?”

My fingers snap at him. “Exactly.”

He sighs deeply. “Very well. I’ll stop all the tours that roam through.”

I shake my head. “Don’t bother, the last thing I want is any interference from anyone within the pack. The less they know the better.” Downing the remaining contents of my drink, I head back through the doors. Seeing a shovel beside the exit my hands snatches it. “I’ll return this when I’m done.”

Grey waves me off. “It’s a shovel, Draven, I'm not too worried about it.”

Heading out to the graves the misty morning scent hits my nose. The deathly smell of dead flowers lineger in the air with the bitter scent of the fallen. Heading in the direction of the holy crown's, a strange sensation prickles at the back of my neck. The same one that has begun the day before.

Turning, my eyes scan the area for the source of attention, only to come up fruitless just as every other time. My mind wanders to if it is my mother waiting for my final demise. Slipping through the dark crevices in the earth, watching and waiting for Aster and I to finally unravel. All was possible. Yet, this feeling was something else, something foreign.

Shaking the thought from my head, I turn back to continue on to the destination at hand. The one that will lead me to my freedom.