Harvest Moon: Night Hunters, #1

Also by Helena Shaw

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Also available in the Night Hunters Series:

Book Two: Coven’s Calling

Book Three: English Blood

Book Four: Devil’s Playground

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Novellas by Helena Shaw

Maxed Out

Salem’s Secrets

The Demon’s Song

Prologue

Light poured from the never-fading streetlights of Manhattan and into Jennifer’s bedroom. Still, even with the curtains of her bedroom pushed open, it wasn’t enough for her to see what she was doing. Not entirely, at least.

It was midnight, and below her, the city was still alive with residents and tourists alike. None of them were aware of the young woman who had, as of only a moment ago, just turned eighteen. None of them would have any idea that she was scrambling to pack a suitcase.

No one at all knew that tonight, Jenny would end five years of torture.

She knew that leaving the posh, exclusive condo that she and her mother shared with her mother’s second husband, Richard Clarkson, would be a shock. She was only eighteen, and her senior year of high school had barely just begun, but now she was leaving it all behind.

For the last six months, she’d struggled to tell her mother about the abuse she was suffering at her stepfather’s hands, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Her mother couldn’t imagine, or refused to, that her wonderful, powerful, rich husband was anything but perfect. He was the director of city planning for the great city of New York, and somehow Jenny’s mother thought that made him invincible.

He wasn’t, though. For five years, he’d been coming to Jenny’s room in the night.

It had started out innocently enough; tickle fights when she was eleven, cuddles when she was twelve, and one night of accidentally taking it too far, as he’d put it, soon turned into many mistakes, and finally into a horrible, soul-breaking routine.

At eighteen, Jenny was an adult. She could leave, get out of the city entirely, maybe find a job and become someone else.

She would have to.

Despite her mother’s insistence that Richard was nothing but sweet and perfect, Jenny knew the truth. He’d made enough threats over the years that she was well aware what would happen to her if she told anyone what he was doing. If word got out that a man in his position was screwing his underage stepdaughter against her will, the media would have a field day. Richard wouldn’t let that happen. They both knew that.

Her stepfather also had friends, powerful, dangerous friends who would take care of a problem, if he so asked. He had never said that, not exactly, but over the last few years, Jenny had gotten quite good at sitting back and listening to people. She was like a fly on the wall; no one ever noticed the slender teen with her big brown eyes and neatly-cropped brunette hair. She was pretty, but average for the prep school crowd, and seemed to blend in so well that no one remembered she was in the room at all.

So she listened.

Crooked cops, the mob, the mayor’s office—they were all connected, one way or another, and Richard was right in the thick of it. She saw them all come and go, even with money and sometimes drugs being exchanged. The men, and some women, never thought to tell the petite teen to buzz off while they talked and traded, and Jenny learned.

Just the thought of her stepfather sending some crooked cop or a mob goon after her made her shudder with fear. She was trying to race through her packing, only grabbing the things she needed most, but her fingers were clumsy with nerves. By the light of her phone, she threw sweaters and leggings into the Louis Vuitton suitcase that her mother had given her when they went on a trip to Europe together last spring.

That was when Jenny had first tried to tell her mom what had happened. She’d only tested the waters, but her mother resisted her at every turn. Richard was a good man, a just man, and nothing would convince her otherwise.

By time she was done filling her bag, Jenny was so nervous that she wasn’t even sure exactly what she’d packed. It was hard enough to see with only the dim light of her phone, her clumsy hands only made things worse.

Packing wasn’t even the hardest part. No, packing up a suitcase in the security of her room was the easiest part of her plan. The next step was where things got a little more intense.

Once the suitcase was packed full, Jenny propped the boxy piece of luggage up by her door and then slipped out into the hallway of the condo that Richard’s dirty money had paid for. She forced herself to remember back to the few times her father, her real father, had taken her hunting when she was just a girl.

Those had been good times. They weren’t wealthy, like they were with Richard, but they were happy. She was safe with a mother and father who loved her. All that shattered when her father was killed in a freak electrical fire, and then only a few months later, her mother announced her engagement to Richard.

As she stalked her way through the condo, Jenny’s father’s voice whispered in her mind. Slow breaths, his memory instructed. Control your breathing. Don’t make a sound. Walk on your toes and listen. Listen to the forest, and the deer won’t know you’re there until it’s too late.

There was no forest now, just the high ceilings and designer wallpaper of their home surrounding her. Still, Jenny did as her father’s voice instructed as she moved toward Richard’s study.

It wasn’t far, but it felt like she’d walked a mile to get there. Even when she opened the door and let herself in, she couldn’t let herself relax. She’d made it so far, but she knew if she stopped for even a second, she would chicken out and go racing back to her room.

His office was, by far, the nicest room in their condo. It had taken Jenny a few years to figure out why that was, but as she got older, she realized that was where Richard took his friends to talk and deal, and she knew he needed to show off just how wealthy and powerful he really was in order to impress Manhattan’s best, and worst.

Foolishly, Richard always left his wallet in his office. He spent most mornings going over emails as he sipped the coffee that Jenny’s mother made him. He liked to have his wallet and phone handy for him to grab before he walked out the door, which meant for about seven hours each night, they were completely unguarded.

On his desk beside his computer was a family portrait in a mother-of-pearl frame. Jenny stared at her own face, her own smile, and almost let herself scoff. The picture made them look like any other normal, happy family, and that alone disgusted her.

She forced her gaze away from the portrait as she moved to the upper right drawer of Richard’s desk. Richard, in the sense of security that had to come with his eclectic and powerful group of friends, left the drawer unlocked, and it was no work at all for Jenny to pull it open and find the treasure inside.

Her fingers were just about to touch the leather of his Gucci wallet when she picked up the faint sound of something moving in their condo. Her whole body froze as electric fear jolted through her. If it was Richard, she was caught and so much worse. She could only pray that what she’d heard was someone next door.

For five minutes, she waited, frozen stiff while she listened for another noise, another indicator that she wasn’t the only one awake. Her father had taught her to stay perfectly still while she waited for a deer to come into her sights, and she went back to that training while she listened.

Finally, mercifully, she felt certain that the danger had passed. What she had heard was probably a neighbor, or maybe their maid, Rosita, going to the kitchen for a late night snack. Either way, she needed to act quickly, or she might lose her chance entirely.

She grabbed a credit card out of Richard’s wallet—the MasterCard, not the Amex, because not everyone would take the more exclusive card. At least she knew that much. She shoved the card into the pocket of her True Religion jeans before she snuck back to her room.

Jenny only gave herself thirty seconds to assure herself she was doing the right thing. She had to go, she had to get away, and now was her chance. She might never get another one, and it was time to leave.

After she pulled on a faded old Juicy Couture hoodie, Jenny grabbed her suitcase and made for the front door.

It was a lot harder to be quiet with the clunky suitcase in tow. She’d packed it too heavily, and even with the wheels, it was almost too much to manage. Every step across the hardwood floor threatened to give her away as the wheels clicked and clacked, but it was too late now to turn back. The front door was in sight. She was going to make it.

Miss Jenny? Rosita’s heavily-accented voice whispered to her through the dark. Where are you going?

Rosita, Jenny half-hissed, half-whispered back at her family’s greatly underpaid maid. I’m just going out. I’ll be right back.

But your suitcase, Rosita said as she pointed a shaking finger at Jenny’s luggage. You cannot go.

I have to, Jenny tried to explain. Please, just... don’t tell, okay?

For a second, Rosita looked like she was going to let her go, that maybe she would just return to the small room she called her own and let the poor girl flee into the night.

But in an instant, the look Rosita’s face changed from sympathy to fear. Mr. Richard! she called out, her eyes still locked on Jenny. Mr. Richard, come quick!

Jenny wanted to scream at the woman to shut up. She wanted to lunge at her and choke the voice right out of her, but she didn’t have time. She could only turn toward the door and run.

Somehow, with divine luck on her side, the elevator was there when she needed it. She knew that her stepfather wouldn’t be far behind, and she threw her suitcase into the lift before she pressed the button for the lobby.

The ride was the longest of her life, but she wasn’t in the clear yet. There was no doubt in her mind that Richard would be in the next elevator and coming after her. The moment the doors opened to the lobby, Jenny took off running, her suitcase trailing awkwardly behind her.

Their building was one of the exclusive ones that was nestled right up to Central Park. The fastest way to not only lose her stepfather, but to get to Penn Station, was to cut across the park. In the dark, she had a chance of losing anyone who might be chasing after her, and she could find her way to a cab when she exited out the other side. There was enough cash in her suitcase to cover the ride.

She was still running when she heard her stepfather’s voice call her name from somewhere behind her. She needed to go faster, but the suitcase was slowing her down. It was heavy and awkward as it rolled along the path, and she knew it would only get worse as she cut through the trees.

His voice was getting closer, though. He was in the park, too, and though he’d grown a belly over the years, he was a big man and could run. She knew she had no choice. Jenny let go of the suitcase and broke into a sprint. Her designer clothes and accessories were only there to sell, and she could buy more necessities with Richard’s credit card until he realized it was stolen. Still, her cash was in her suitcase, and as she ran, she soon realized that she would be walking the rest of the way to the station.

By time she left the park, the muscles in her legs had begun to tighten and her sides were crippled with cramps, but she still jogged on. She passed hookers and junkies and cops alike, but she never stopped and no one looked at her. Tomorrow they would be looking for her, but that wasn’t now. Now, she was free to run.

The sun was just starting to peek through the skyscrapers when she reached the station. In truth, she never thought she would get this far and now that she was walking into the station, she had no idea what to do. She hadn’t really thought about where exactly she was going. She just knew she wanted out of the city.

Excuse me, she said when she reached the Amtrak ticket booth.

Yes? a sleepy, middle-aged man yawned.

When does the next train leave? she asked him.

The next train leaves for Philly in about fifteen minutes, he told her without checking a schedule.

Can I get a ticket for that one, please? she said as she handed over Richard’s credit card.

For a second, she thought she was about to get turned away. The attendant’s eyebrow raised just enough to indicate his suspicions, but he said nothing as he swiped her card and printed her ticket.

Track seventeen, he told her as he handed her back the card and her ticket. Have a safe trip.

Thanks. Jenny offered him a quick smile before she walked through the station. She didn’t want to raise anyone’s suspicions, but she didn’t want to walk too slowly either. Forcing herself to move at a regular pace was like a strange torture, but she kept it up until she boarded her train.

It wasn’t until the train lurched forward that Jenny let herself breathe a sigh of relief. In her wildest dreams, she’d never really thought she’d go through with it, but she had. She was on a train, leaving the city for good.

The train left the station, and the bright morning sun met her as they began to pick up speed. She didn’t know what awaited her, but at least she was free.

Chapter One

Two Years Later

Somewhere in the forest, a chainsaw roared to life. Its teeth cut into the wood of some distant tree, and the sound of it gnawing through the bark brought Dawn out of her light sleep.

The grumble and roar of the chainsaw was joined by a chorus of birds as they fled the sound of the monstrous machinery. The noise was all around her, and she still struggled to accept it as simply the background music of her life.

She’d been living in Goosemont for six months and figured she’d be used to the sounds of rural living by now, but she was still adjusting to her new life in Appalachia. She was always forgetting little things, like not locking her garbage meant that raccoons would be into it in the night, or how just because yesterday had been warm and sunny for an early November day didn’t mean today would be the same.

Foolishly, she thought the warmth would last, and she’d left the window of her small bedroom open a crack for the fresh air. Now, the quilt she’d bought at September’s county fair wasn’t enough to keep her from shivering. The cold was biting and made her flesh pimple, even as she pulled the blanket up under her chin.

Though it meant leaving the warmth of her quilt, she forced herself to sit up and turn to close the window over her bed. She had only worn a light, threadbare t-shirt to bed, and the moment she sat up, she hissed from the cold, but she knew it was a necessary evil. She turned and leaned toward the window, but just as her fingers found the glass, another sound broke through the roar of the chainsaw and forced her to snap her hand back.

Somewhere in town, a police siren began to wail. The sound of it was enough to make Dawn retreat into the safety of her blankets and she hid in the warmth.

No, she mumbled to herself. There’s nothing to worry about. They’re probably just passing through town.

Still, she didn’t push herself back out of the bed until the noise of the sirens died down. It hadn’t faded away, but abruptly stopped as if the officer had turned off the sirens rather than driven far enough away that the sound moved out of earshot.

Goosemont only had a couple of cops, but Dawn had done well to avoid them since she’d arrived last spring. They frequented Jim’s old bar where she worked as a waitress, but she was careful to skip the small talk with them and just bring them their greasy food and their cheap beers. There was no need for more than that. She never knew whose pocket they might be in.

They aren’t here for you, she whispered to herself as she pushed the window shut and finally got out of bed. Even with the window closed, her bedroom was cold, and she found a pair of old flannel pajama pants laying on the floor and pulled them on.

The floor of the old cabin she was renting creaked and groaned under her soft footsteps. Her bedroom door led into her living room, and that was open to the kitchen. It was small and old, but it was hers, and it was nicer than most places she’d stayed the last couple of years.

Still, the sirens made her distinctly aware of the fact that she’d stayed put for a little over half a year. Goosemont was nice, but West Virginia wasn’t that far from New York City, and even with her precautions, she was never really going to be safe. Besides, the winter in the mountains would be harsh. It was probably time to move on, but something was stalling her feet.

Most of the town had probably been up for hours, and as Dawn looked at the clock on the old, rusty stove in her small kitchen, she realized she’d better start getting ready for work. It was already eleven, and that meant she had just under an hour to get to the bar. She had time, but the hot water took a while to reach the shower, and she liked being a bit early to help Jim with the prep work before the bar opened.

With a press of a button, she turned on her thrift store coffee maker and let it percolate while she went for the shower. It was five minutes before the hot water reached the faucet, but once it did, it was heaven. The water in the mountains was fresh and clean and there was nothing like a long, hot shower to let Dawn relax and prepare herself for another day serving beer and burgers to hunters, miners, loggers, and hikers.

When she finally felt that her muscles were as relaxed as they were going to get, Dawn pulled herself out of the hot water and wrapped a towel around her body. Slinging drinks and food was more of a workout than she had ever imagined, and she let her fingers trail over the muscle of her bicep. It was growing just a little more every day, and for a girl who had always been petite, she couldn’t deny her pride in that.

Over the sink, Dawn began to brush out her shoulder-length blonde hair. As she brushed, she examined her roots and frowned. I’ll need to pick up some dye soon,