Free Shepherd's Moon by Stacy Mantle Page A

world as the best way to do it. But extremists aren’t known for their calm personalities. We may share ideals, but our methods vary drastically.
    The men we had taken into custody received two years at the Perryville lockup after they refused to cooperate by supplying information on their group to the feds — they’d be out in a matter of months. The corporation doing the testing was fined — a pittance compared to what the research was worth. The leaders of the extremist group were never formally identified and likely never would be. But the animals had suffered a horrible life and an even more terrible death.
    Another example of 21st century justice.
    As for the six missing animals, they were never found. Nor did I anticipate they ever would be. The corporation hadn’t seemed too concerned about it, claiming the animals were not a danger to the public. They were more concerned about getting us out of their facility. I hadn’t been able to stay in the area for long anyway as the terror from the caged animals had proven to be too much for me.
    One of the dogs had actually been used for harvesting transplants and had an eyeball growing under its abdomen.
    An eyeball…
    How does anything — animal or human — recover from an experience like that?
    Billy crumpled the paper bag into a tight ball. “The two that went to prison were released last week. We found them stuffed in a giant dog kennel at a drop site last night.”
    Surprised, I lifted my eyes to meet his. “What happened?”
    “No idea,” he shrugged. “Some kids were playing nearby and found the kennel. One of the bodies was still inside, the other guy was found nearby—the detectives think wild dogs got hold of the body.”
    “Is that what you think?”
    Aiming the crumpled-up paper sack at a nearby garbage can, he tossed it in. “Score!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.
    I rolled my eyes, sipping my coffee.
    “Who knows? I’m guessing the company got tired of these groups interfering with their profit margin and decided to send a message.”
    “What was the name of that corporation?” I asked, doing my best to push the memory of those poor animals out of my head.
    “Shoot, Alex. That was over a year ago. I’m lucky I even remembered we processed the case. Dyno. Dynamite. Dingo…”
    “Dynasty,” I answered absentmindedly. My thoughts flicked back to Daniel. If Parallax were the name of the company, we might have something to work with…
    “Yeah, Dynasty. That was it.” He licked his fingers and glanced up at the green neon sign, considering whether to get another donut.
    I sighed. “Why don’t you just order two to begin with?”
    He turned his head to level a sharp glare at me.
    “Oh come on…” I snapped. “I didn’t have to read your mind for that.”
    Grunting, he returned to studying the file. “I have to watch my girlish figure.”
    I leaned back against the car and sipped the hot coffee as he browsed the paperwork, thinking about how long we’d been doing this together. When Joseph first found Billy on the reservation, he was just a kid running with a small, but fierce, five-member pack of Weres. Joseph had brought all of them home. Eventually the boys had moved into other territories. Everyone but Billy, who had stayed with us, swearing loyalty to Joseph. But, now it was Richard and I who reaped the benefits.
    Each member of my pack has been specifically trained for finding a certain type of criminal; and as a general rule, we aren’t called in often. Over the past year, that was changing. I wasn’t sure if it was because we’re so successful or because we’re lucky, but to date, we have never missed a mark. And I wasn’t about to let Azrael’s Handler be the first.
    The only lead we had was Azrael, and now we didn’t even have him—thanks to Richard killing off the one person who may have been persuaded to tell us something. Frustrated barely began to cover my feelings on that subject. I downed the