Moon Dance: Wolves of Outerlands, #1

The wolf's hunger will consume her, taking her to a place of dark desire and forbidden love.

He is the beast that haunts her nightmares, and the only one who can save her from the evil that reaches for her from beyond this world.

Dark, erotic dreams and eerie phantoms warn of forbidden passions. Long ago, the Sungmanitu Indians withdrew into isolation; what dark secrets were they hiding?

Laura Ellison was soon to find out. The company she works for is planning to send her to Wyoming, where they are preparing to clear-cut the land of the Sungmanitu. A fellow employee has mysteriously disappeared, and the local police are baffled by a string of strange murders.

The land of the Sungmanitu: a place of breathtaking beauty and menacing evil, where Laura will discover the demon who haunts her nightmares, and the dark truth of who she really is. Laura Ellison will defy all warnings and fall in-love with Justin Gray Eagle, the sinister leader of the Sungmanitu Wolf People.

Chapter One

Surrounded by darkness, her heightened senses picked up the scent of damp earth and blood - so tangy - so sweet. Just the aroma of it was driving her into a mindless frenzy that was quickly ripping away her humanity.

Razor sharp nails tore at her flesh, but she barely felt it.

She was consumed with the need to free herself of her prison of flesh.

The beast was close.

She could feel his hunger - his lust.

Instinct coursed through her - screaming at her to run, but a dark part of her soul kept her rooted to the darkness.

Though she couldn’t see him, she could sense his nearness, and his hunger - a hunger so powerful - so overwhelming, it seemed to seep through her skin - penetrating into the core of her very being.

Large - powerful hands grasped her thighs.

She could feel her legs being pulled apart until she was open to him. Even if she had thought to struggle, her efforts would have been futile against his brute strength.

Suddenly she felt the sting of sharp teeth nipping at the tender skin of her inner thigh.

She felt pain, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The pain was sweet - erotic, spurring a flood of savage hunger that came from somewhere deep within her.

But the pain didn’t last long.

The next thing she was aware of was the sensation of a soothing - wet tongue licking her wounds - moving gradually toward that furiously burning need that was driving her insane.

A woman’s harsh voice came at her from out of the darkness.

"Puta! Run you stupid girl!" the voice hissed.

A violent shiver made its way down her back when she felt his hot breath close to her ear.

Stay with me, he pleaded.

Though his voice was soft, there was an underlying growl emanating from deep within his throat.

Fingers of thick - white mist came out of the darkness. Like a snake, it coiled around her - reaching into her nostrils and down her throat to suck the life from her.

She couldn’t breathe!

Clutching at her throat, she struggled to draw oxygen into her lungs, but there was no air, only mist.

A hand grasped her shoulder and gently shook her.

Gradually, the fog cleared and she forced her eyes open.

The purple hues of dawn were creeping into the small - dingy windows of her grandfather’s trailer.

Laura, you are being haunted in your dreams. Grandpa Busby’s hoarse voice pulled her further into the waking world.

You should not go on this trip.

Laura sat up and rubbed her sleep-swollen eyes. Getting to her feet, she walked the few steps to the small kitchen of the cramped trailer.

The coffee was fresh, as she knew it would be. Laura poured herself a large cup.

She took a sip of the hot liquid before turning her attention to her grandfather.

He was still sitting on the edge of the couch where she’d slept. Even in the dim light, she could see that age was catching up to him fast.

Worry gnawed at her.

He was old and so frail. The right side of his body no longer worked as well as it once had. This was the result of a stroke that had cut him down only a few years ago. Since then, he’d had to use a cane to help him get around.

Each and every day since his stroke, Laura thanked God for sparing her grandfather so that he could walk the path of life with her for just a little longer.

Long - thin wisps of gray hair framed the old man’s deeply lined face. He was well into his twilight years, but still mentally sharp, at least most of the time.

There had been instances, especially lately, where he’d seemed to disappear from inside himself, staring off into space - just like he was doing at this very moment. 

He may not be losing his mind, but maybe he was losing his sight.

It was a possibility, but her grandfather would never admit it.

On a number of occasions, she’d tried to convince him to move to Santa Fe, so he’d be closer to where she lived, but she’d received the same answer each time.

"I am Busby, born to the Bitter River People for the Deer Clan. I am Dineh and will die in my own country."

Laura understood why he wouldn’t leave. She didn’t necessarily agree with it, but she understood.

He’d raised her in the tradition of the Navajo, and she knew that like so many of the people, his homeland was very important to him. Nevertheless, the thought of him out here all alone - troubled her.

If something happened and she lost her grandfather ...

The thought was devastating.

He was her only living relative, unless she counted the distant relation of her clansmen.

Laura quietly sipped her coffee - letting the hot liquid soothe her dry throat.

Her grandfather’s dark eyes seemed to be analyzing her - dissecting her from the inside out.

Grandpa, you know I have to go to Wyoming. I only stopped here to let you know where I’d be, but I won’t be there long, she added in an effort to appease him.

With old bones that burned with age, it wasn’t unusual to hear him grunt and moan from the effort it took to get to his feet.

Don’t know why you’d have a hand in that kind of work, he muttered.

Once again, Laura tried to explain. It’s my life, Grandpa. I cannot live my life in poverty on this reservation.

"I warned your mother about what would come of getting mixed up with a Belagana ... and now your father’s ways are bleeding into your spirit." Busby painfully lowered himself to the hard kitchen chair.

I don’t cut the trees ... I just work for them. Laura’s eyes pleaded with him to understand.

That is enough. Busby’s voice was stern, which meant he was deeply concerned about something. If you destroy the earth ... bad things will come of it. Already the darkness enters your dreams.

The sun was rising majestically over the eastern hills.

Laura opened the aluminum door to let some light into the trailer. Standing in the narrow doorway, she took a moment to breathe in the dry - desert air. The tangy scent never failed to bring back childhood memories. Most were good, but the constant lack of food and water cast shadows on some of those memories.

I don’t agree with what they do Grandpa, but I just can’t stay here and marry one of my mother’s people. Life is too hard here ... and when I have children of my own, I don’t want them to live through the ugliness of poverty. Not if I can prevent it. Again, she tried to explain her reasons, like she had many times before.

The old man got to his feet and walked to the doorway where she stood. "You mean you want to hide your children from the truth of what remains of the Dineh," he said, brushing past her.

Laura watched as her grandfather slowly descended the steps of the trailer. A few moments later, he disappeared into the junipers of the nearby hills, where each morning he went to pray.

Maybe her grandfather was right?

Laura was not ashamed of her Navajo blood - she just wasn’t sure she wanted to share in their destiny - not when there was a life out there free of the dark clouds that existed within the boundaries of the Navajo reservation.

The strange dream crept back into her thoughts.

For two nights now, she’d been plagued with the same nightmare.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled the details of the dream, and how it left her feeling. Even more troubling than the desire the dream stirred within her, was the fact that she was left with the vague feeling of being torn in half.

In the brightness of day, the dream seemed too ridiculous to worry about, but she had been brought up in a superstitious world, and doubt nagged at her.

The woman in the dream called her a whore.

Why?

Why would she dream something like that?

Perhaps she was feeling guilty?

Her grandfather had been needling her since she’d started working for Duccini, and maybe it was finally starting to get to her.

Laura tried to shake the dark dream from her thoughts as she stepped into the small bathroom.

She hurried to change into a T-shirt and blue jeans, and then ran a brush through her long - golden brown hair. As a result of inheriting her father’s coloring and hazel eyes, Laura appeared to be paler than Indian. She wasn’t entirely sure she was pleased with that fact or not. When she was a child, there were times she’d felt out of place among the Dineh, and it had left her feeling self-conscious about her looks.

Returning to the kitchen, Laura prepared the breakfast food she’d brought with her. Grandpa didn’t have a full stove, so she was stuck using a small propane stove, which meant it would take a little longer to make breakfast.

Not that it mattered. Grandpa would take awhile, and she didn’t want the food done too soon or it would get cold.

Once she’d finished, she waited on the steps for her grandfather to return. It was not long before he emerged from the brush.

Laura watched his slow progress across the desert floor.

She felt her throat constrict with emotion and tears stung her eyes. The old man had made many sacrifices for her over the years, and no matter how she might disagree with him - her heart would never forget that.

Laura recalled the times he’d pretended not to be hungry so she would have enough to fill her aching stomach. For two years, he’d walked to the Trading Post to buy supplies because she’d needed braces more than he needed a new engine for his truck. At least that’s the way he’d looked at it.

Laura got up to let him pass. As soon as he was settled, she set the food on the small - wooden table. They ate in silence - feeling no need for words.

Her eyes scanned the tabletop, taking note of the deep gouges and scars in the wood. Laura’s gaze came to rest on some carved letters. Deeper than the rest of the marks on the table, the letters L.E & K.B stood out.

Remembering the day she’d carved them into the wood with her little pocketknife - brought back fond memories of her childhood sweetheart, the days of innocence - childish laughter, and Kenny Begay. Those days seemed worlds away from her life now.

Finished with breakfast, Busby sat at the table and nursed his coffee while Laura tidied up the kitchen. When the kitchen was clean, Laura knelt beside her grandfather.

I’ll have to be leaving now. I’m due at the field office the day after tomorrow, but I’ll be back soon ... a couple of weeks, maybe. She made a feeble attempt to put some cheer into her voice.

The Indians up there ... they have given your boss the rights to cut? His voice betrayed his doubt.

Yes, we received the release just a few days ago. It clearly states they have signed off cutting rights to the land surrounding Beaver Creek.

I find it a hard thing to believe the Shoshone would hand over their land to butchers of the earth. Grandpa was clearly skeptical.

They are not Shoshone, Laura paused, trying to remember the name of the tribe that had laid claim to the area. "I believe they call themselves, Sungmanitu. From what I have been able to gather ... they broke off from their main band years ago and settled a small part of the land in the area."

Laura was busy packing and failed to notice the way her grandfather’s face drained of color, or the way his features distorted with fear.

It’s better if you do not go there. Something is wrong about this. Why do they need you there?

Snapping her suitcase shut, Laura took a deep breath and patiently tried to explain the situation. The people are not real happy about the situation ... so they need a P.R. specialist to try and smooth the way for a while.

She thought it better not to add the fact that Dan Mitchell had disappeared shortly after forwarding the release documents. In addition to her other duties, she’d been instructed to find out what she could about Dan too.

Franklin Duccini was a shrewd businessman, and smart enough to know that without Dan, there could be a problem. The Sungmanitu could contest the validity of the release documents. Without Dan as a witness, things could get messy.

Grandpa, I have to go now. She stood next to him, holding her bags.

Busby took hold of her arm. Be careful, he whispered in a raspy voice.

Laura’s eyes widened in shock and a sudden rush of fear caught in her throat. Grandpa, are you feeling well?

Putting down her bags, Laura kneeled beside him - wrapping her arm around his shoulders. Never before had he been so adamantly against her work.

He gazed at her with a wisdom one can only obtain with the passing of many years. You must promise me something, Laura.

If I can, Grandpa.

"Stay far away from the Sungmanitu ... they are dangerous."

What do you know of them? Laura’s curiosity was peaked.

The old man shook his head. Stay away from them, Laura.

* * *

With the summer sun already high in the turquoise sky, the surrounding desert shimmered with the rising heat.

Laura drove west, toward Arizona.

All morning she’d felt a sense of dread building, and as she left New Mexico behind her, that feeling of unease grew worse.

The music coming over her car radio began fading in and out. Suddenly, there was a burst of static.

Laura took her eyes from the road for only a split second to fiddle with the knobs on the stereo.

When she looked back, her heart jumped into her throat.

A woman was standing in the middle of the road.

The woman’s bulkiness was covered with a thin - cotton blouse and blue skirt. She had her gray - black hair neatly bound in a bun at the back of her head.

Somehow, her panicked consciousness took all this in, as she was slamming on the brakes.

Then there was only the sound of squealing tires and burning rubber.

Sliding off the side of the road, she missed hitting the woman by mere inches.

Still dazed, Laura scrambled out of the vehicle.

The woman stood in the same spot, staring at her with piercing black eyes - eyes that seemed to cut right through to Laura’s soul.

Raising her hand, the woman pointed in the direction from which Laura had come.

"Go back, Puta! The way you go leads only to darkness. Go back before it’s too late."

Laura felt faint.

It was the same voice she heard in her dreams.

Suddenly, shards of bright light were exploding in her skull and a ball of pain ripped through her brain.

Closing her eyes, Laura tried to block it out, but it seemed forever before it subsided. When she was finally able to pry her eyes open, the woman was gone. Laura scanned the area, but the specter was nowhere to be seen.

Knots twisted at her insides and a wave of nausea overtook her. Laura leaned against the Bronco until the feeling started to pass.

Reaching inside, she grabbed a canteen of water. Taking the cap off, she brought the water up to her dry - parched lips and took several gulps of the cool liquid.

Now that she’d calmed down some, she circled the SUV to check for damages. Everything seemed to be okay.

She was still too shaken to drive, so she sat in the driver’s seat and rested her eyes for a few minutes.

Maybe she was on the verge of a heat stroke?

What other explanation was there?

There was just no way that the woman could have vanished into thin air.

Chapter Two

The Duccini field office was nothing more than an old mobile home. Judging from the trailer’s appearance, its better days were far in the past.

The white dust-covered structure stood at the bottom of an isolated hillside, just south of Brantic City. It had taken Laura an hour of roaming the dirt roads to find it.

Before going in, Laura used the Bronco’s rearview mirror to brush her wind-tangled hair into place. She didn’t want to face her new boss looking like she’d walked all the way from New Mexico.

Laura eyed the rickety stairs leading to the front door. The weathered wooden steps looked as if they would cave in as soon as she stepped on them.

Grasping the rail, just in case, Laura climbed the stairs.

The inside of the mobile home wasn’t in much better condition than the outside, though she supposed it served its purpose.

What was once a living room had been converted into office space. An array of paperwork littered the top of an old steel desk, and the floor looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.

Behind the desk, sat a black man, his short-cropped hair speckled with gray.

He was leaning back in his chair, his long legs propped up on the desk.

No more excuses! he barked into the phone he was holding against his ear.

There had better be a truck here tomorrow morning to pick up that load, or we give the contract to someone else. Scowling, he slammed the phone down.

He eyed Laura speculatively at first, but gradually the hard lines of his mouth widened into a smile.

Offering her hand, Laura returned his smile. Mr. Jessup, I suppose.

That would be me, he said, shaking her hand firmly.

Laura noticed he spoke with a slow - southern drawl.

I’m Laura Ellison.

Oh! he laughed.

For a minute there I thought you might be one of those ecology people. It’s not just the locals giving us hassles. We’ve been butting heads with tree huggers too. Pausing, he searched through a stack of manila folders for her file.

Finally, he pulled a folder out from beneath a small stack of old newspapers.

After opening the file, he looked up at her. Where you been? By my info ... you were supposed to be here yesterday.

Had some car problems on the way up here. It keeps wanting to die, she apologized.

Hmm, you’ll want to get that taken care of, he muttered, as he poured through the details of her file.

It sounds as if this job might be more difficult than we anticipated, Laura offered her assessment.

Don’t you know it! Clyde Jessup told her, as he was getting up from his desk. Stepping around the mess on the floor, he went to the kitchen and pulled two cans of soda from the refrigerator, offering one to Laura.

Thank you. She accepted it gratefully, hoping it would cool her burning throat.

The locals in Brantic are not real happy about us messing around up there, but that isn’t the worst of it.

Popping open the can of soda, he took several swallows before continuing. "Those

Beaver Creek people are downright hostile. They keep insisting their Chief didn't sign that contract."

Laura found a chair and sat down. What about the Chief?

He’s gone. At least that’s what they are telling us. Jessup smiled.

The truth of the matter is ... I think the old man took a pay off to sign it and then split. Jessup sat back and rested his legs on his desk.

You’ll be doing more than P.R. work while you’re here ... though I expect you’ll have your hands full enough with that.

Oh? Laura wasn’t thrilled with the news, but she’d expected as much.

I’m not an office man, as you can see. His hand made a sweeping motion, bringing her attention to the stacks of paperwork on his desk.

Jessup gave her a wry smile. In addition to everything else, we are having trouble getting laborers. The temp service in Acton does not seem to be able to recruit any men. Most of our employees had to be brought in from Rock Springs.

Why so much trouble?

People around here don’t seem to care too much for those Indians up there. Hell ... we can’t even get any of the Shoshone or Arapaho to take a job.

Jessup grew quiet, but finally clearing his throat, he continued. To a point, that can be written off as opposition to the clear-cutting, but still ... it seems odd. Usually one or two will join up. They would just as soon stay away from the Beaver Creek Indians, even if it means passing up a good paying job. He shook his head, as if it were the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.

So what’s the story on Mitchell? Finished with her soda, Laura tried to stuff it in the already overflowing wastebasket, but it fell out and rolled across the floor.

She got to her feet to retrieve it, but Jessup waved her back. I’ll get it later.

Laura’s smile was tolerant. She knew what the first thing on her agenda for tomorrow would be, and that was to get this place cleaned up and in some kind of order.

Can’t tell you a lot about Mitchell, except that I didn’t like him a whole lot. He tended to remind me of a big rat with sly - beady eyes, Jessup explained with a laugh.

Laura laughed with him. Though she’d only met Mitchell once, she’d gotten the same impression.

Jessup took a pipe from the top drawer of his desk. He struck a stick match from the sole of his boot and lit the contents of the bowl. Mitchell was gone a day before he was scheduled to leave. Didn’t say a thing, just left. I guess he never made it to New Mexico though.

That’s strange, Laura commented.

Not really. He hated this place ... said it wasn’t civilized enough for him.

The light streaming in from the open windows began to fade, smothered by afternoon shadows.

It was getting late and she still didn’t have a place to stay.

Laura stood up. Is there a motel in Brantic City?

Jessup arched one thick brow. You haven’t been to Brantic City yet?

Laura shook her head. No, I drove around forever trying to get here, but I didn’t run across any towns.

There it was again - that deep throaty laughter. Brantic City isn’t much more than a ghost town. The only thing you’ll find there is a combo restaurant-saloon, a little store, and maybe a few year-round residents, but not many. The closest real town is Acton, and it’s nearly forty miles away.

So where do all the employees stay? Laura was not feeling good about this information.

I stay here, and most of the others stay in the camp trailers they brought with them. I do recall hearing that the owners of the saloon rent out a few cabins here and there. They are expensive though. If you’re lucky, maybe the one Mitchell was renting is still vacant.

He seemed amused by her sudden distress.

Are there any alternatives if it isn’t? She was really becoming worried now.

Not really. This area is littered with ghost towns left over from the gold rush days, but that’s about it.

How do I find the saloon?

Get on that dirt road out front and go south for about a mile. It will take you right into the middle of Brantic City. The saloon will be on your right. Talk to Olivia Lambert.

Thanks, I’ll see you later, Laura flung the words over her shoulder as she was heading for the door.

Be here bright and early come morning, he called after her.

Chapter Three

Laura found Brantic City and the saloon easy enough, but as Jessup warned, the town appeared deserted.

If one wanted to experience authentic Old West, the saloon in Brantic City was a good place to start. There were even bullet holes in the mirror behind the bar. A note taped to the mirror informed visitors the bullet holes were the result of a gunfight that had taken