Page 64 of Crimson Moon Falling

We hung up, and Parker leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. Outside, Old Faithful erupted, the distant roar shaking the windowpanes.

“Let’s send what we have, then get some sleep before the next shitshow erupts,” Parker muttered.

My phone rang a few minutes after we sent the last files to Drew and Madison.

“Hey,” I sighed.

The bond thrummed between us, a distant warm hum against my grief. “Are you really alright? The bond is muted.”

I looked down at my hands. Clean now, but I could still feel Malcolm’s blood between my fingers, warm and slick. “I’m functional. The implant is taking the brunt.”

“I’m sorry about Malcolm. He had feelings for you, which drove me fucking crazy, but he was a damn good shifter.”

The implant hummed, sending another shot of frigid clarity through my veins. Functional. Operational. Alive. I pressed the heel of my hand against my sternum.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I asked.

“We will be. The Feds can’t push through mandatory testing for shifters while Apollo Genetics and Apex are modifying people and running labs in national parks. Those parks are supposed to be a refuge, and they belong to everyone. What they’re doing is a travesty.”

“The optics are horrible.” I agreed, my words flat.

Another pause. Longer this time. I could hear the distant sounds of D.C. through the connection—traffic, a siren wailing blocks away. Conall was standing by a window somewhere, probably looking out at the city.

“There’s something you need to know.”

“Tell me,” he murmured.

“I want to change the laws, and organize and lobby against Cognizant testing too.” The old rage and helpless fear surfaced. “The same argument applies. If they’re running these facilities, experimenting on people, turning Normals and shifters into Cogs, the registration system isn’t protecting anyone. It’s just cataloging us for their use.”

Conall’s voice was careful and measured. “You’re right.”

“You think the timing will interfere with the shifters’ agenda,” I guessed.

“Probably, but that doesn’t make you less right. When you finish your investigation, we’ll get in touch with the Cognizant Coalition.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Come home when you can. Or I’ll go to you.” His voice dropped to that register that made my toes curl. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” I disconnected, and Mangus whined softly. Reaching over, I scratched behind his ears as his tail thumped. Outside, the geyser basin steamed in the late afternoon light, the mountains rising beyond.

Parker turned to me from where he stood by the window. “You’re not going to wait, are you?”

“Nope.”

Before he could reply, Freda opened the front door, and Gunnar lumbered in behind her with a scowl on his lumpy face. “I hope someone made coffee. It’s been a long morning.” He paused and studied me. “I’m sorry about your friend, Blackthorne. Freda told me what happened.”

I pressed my lips together. “Thanks. Last I’d heard, you were supposed to be getting out of the hospital today, then going home to recuperate for a few weeks. What’re you doing here?”

When he fell on the couch, it creaked under his weight. “I can recover here just as easily. Fill me in.”

“Does Fergus know you’re here?”

He shrugged, then winced. “Maybe. What’s going on?” We told him what we’d found at the site and about the trip bomb. By the time we finished, Gunnar was pale and lying flat.

“Sooner or later, we need to contact Fergus,” he grunted.

I rubbed the scar on the back of my neck. Our supervisor was way down on my list of people I wanted to talk to. “We will, eventually. These facilities have been years in the planning. It’s like fighting a hydra. When we cut off one of its heads, two more grow back.”