Chapter Six: Moon Dark

This, Octavian thinks, is horrible.

Moon-night makes him want to die. The wolf is completely asleep�"moon-dreaming, James had said�"and with it, the sense of smell, the hearing, and even the muted ache of bone-deep healing is just gone.

After living with them for two weeks, the loss is like a punch to the face.

To make it worse, he just wants to sleep. The part of him that's tied to his wolf is exhausted, and he can't help but itch to lie down on the couch�"not James's couch, but his own�"and close his eyes for a while.

He has been running surveillance almost non-stop for the past seven days.

Ever since they made the connection, James has been on Talia Mason almost.

He can see just about everything in the Masons' Park Avenue apartment.

James put in motion sensors on all their windows and a bug in every room, and with all of that, the Masons are probably one of the safest families in New York City.

But despite all this, Octavian is still braced for Talia Mason's death.

She spends too much time out in the unprotected open. She and her husband George like long walks in the park, and that is where the wolf will get her, when it finally strikes.

But it will not attack tonight. Octavian had been sceptical, at first, when James told him that moon-dark made it nearly impossible for a werewolf to do anything, but right now Octavian is too tired to move across the room, let alone shift and go running around the city.

He feels bad for James. He'd never known that moon-dark had such an effect. Otherwise he would've�"

Well. He wouldn’t’ve done anything, really. The criminals don't care if it's moon-dark.

Besides, James seems okay. He's been a wolf a long time, he'd said once. He's probably used to it by now.

Octavian shakes his head, trying to get rid of the sleepy fog that clouds his mind.

He has work to do, feeds to watch over, James to keep in touch with….

He's asleep before he even realizes what's happening.

-----------------------------

This is nice, James thinks, enjoying the cool air as he shambles down the street after Talia and George Mason. The air is sweet and crisp and the night brightly-lit, though he misses the moon and her gentle light.

He doesn't mind moon-dark, all that much, but he misses the wolf when it's gone.

A sharpened sense of smell would be useful, right about now. It isn't terribly hard to keep an eye on the Masons, but still, having the wolf to back him up is always reassuring.

The Masons turn, leaning into each other, laughing. They're cute if you don't know them. James, unfortunately, knows them.

George Mason is a hard, demanding employer, slow with praise and quick with criticism and threats. Talia Mason is a cutthroat reporter. They're the kind of people James would hate, if he was still back in the service.

He's not in the service, though, and the Masons aren't too bad. He doesn't want them to die, or anything, and so he follows a good distance behind, keeping a wary eye out for any dangers.

They turn into Central Park, still leaning on each other.

James follows. He likes the Park. He'd come a lot, before Octavian, whenever he wasn't too drunk to hold down a wolf shape. For such a popular place isn't not really policed well, and his wolf had gotten a kick out of annoying the animals in the Zoo.

The Masons weave through the ground, completely unaware that James is following them, and he watches them through half-lidded eyes.

This is nice. A calm hunt, for now anyway. He's still pissed over the whole Cruz thing, and attacking Sarah Greene. He'll get this wolf, though. He never misses a hunt.

Soon, he tells his sleeping wolf, and keeps after the Masons.

They slip down a narrower path, and he frowns. It's always harder to tail someone down an empty trail�"can't hide in a crowd, and he rolls his eyes and reluctantly follows�"

A high-pitched, terrified scream splits the air, and the hair on his neck stiffens.

He catches the faintest stink of sewer and forest.

"S**t," he swears, shooting forward after the Masons, and he bursts into the smaller path�"

A huge dark shape crouched over Talia bolts, and he sees a tail vanish into the undergrowth. Others on the path are panicking, running away from the Masons. George is down but struggling up, his face gashed, but Talia isn't moving�"

James stares off after the thing and swears again, crouching at Talia's side.

She gurgles at him, eyes surprised, her throat a torn, gaping mess

Even though he knows it's pointless, he presses his hands to her shredded throat, the blood spilling up warm beneath his fingers.

"Talia," George chokes, "Talia, Talia�""

A police officer charges through, screaming for back up into his walkie talkie, and people start crowding around now, drawn by Talia's scream.

"I'm sorry," James says, holding Talia's throat together.

She meets his eyes, trying to breathe, blood flecking her lips.

And then, she dies.

----------------------------------

Callaghan is waiting by the window, watching New York move below him when they hand him the phone.

He checks the caller ID and smiles. "Hello?"

"Agent Callaghan," the Director of the CIA says shortly. "I understand James is active in the city again."

"Define active, sir," Callaghan says politely. He knows what it means, of course, but in situations like these it always helps to have clearly-defined boundaries.

"He's killing people," the Director growls. "In wolf shape. The city is panicking, Callaghan. There hasn't been this much anti-wolf fear since the '60s."

"How would you like me to handle it, sir?"

"Take him out. You have unlimited access to his files."

"Authorization to use deadly force?"

"Granted. Take him out, Callaghan. I'd rather you get him alive, but if there's no other option..."

Callaghan smiled to himself, wicked and wolf-like. "I understand.”