Blood Moon (7 page)

Digging far within, I’m able to clumsily push him away. Let’s face it—we have work to do, and it’s not going to get done unless we have our heads on straight. Sure, Ben and I can screw around all we want while we’re here, but that won’t achieve much. In fact, it’ll only set us back further. There’s no guarantee that, if we mess up this one chance we were given, we’ll be able to revert to where we started. So we have to make the most of our stay.

Tenderly lifting my chin with his fingers, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I just—”

His mouth covers mine again, more vigorously than before. I can’t even catch my breath. Then again, making out with Benjamin Conway will do that to a girl.

Twisting my head to the side, I inhale the scents surrounding us—dirt, greenery, trees. I find all of it refreshing as I close my eyes and slow my rapidly-beating heart. “I just think we need to stick with our most recent plan. We can’t veer off-course.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but reluctantly steps away. Emitting a low growl, he says, “You’re killing me, you know that?” His eyes change colors from a rich yellow to the usual dark brown as he pins me with a glare. “But I see where you’re coming from,” he admits. “We need to catch our family before the end of today.” I purse my lips and nod. Pointing a finger at my face, he adds, “Don’t, under any circumstances, think this will get you off the hook. You’re just postponing what fate already has in store for us.”

He trudges off in a frustrated mood, and I follow. “I’m not postponing anything!” I shout at his retreating backside, a little disappointed with myself, too, I guess. “If fate really does have our private moments in mind, then fate would have us lying naked on the ground right now, bumping and grinding. So don’t even act like this is my fault.”

Ben whirls around and grabs my arm, hauling me forward until we’re nose to nose. “Careful,” he warns. “You’re putting ideas in my head, and once they’re in here”—he thumps his skull twice with one finger—“you better be prepared to handle the outcome.” He releases me, and I stumble backward.

For the rest of the way to the Lowell home, Ben and I walk in silence. This is awkward, to say the least. We never have any problem communicating, and my rejection of his advances bothers both of us. Never mind that I can read his thoughts, as he can with mine, even though we’re trying to block out each other.

The first image that appeared in his head moments ago was the idea I gave him. Thanks to me, he actually imagines us having a nice romp in the woods, leaves and dirt and who-knows-what-else stuck to our bodies. In his mind, I’m having the time of my life. In my mind, though, I succumb to his every fantasy, both in the forest and inside Fiona’s guest bedroom. We even christen the damn bathtub. And although I’m doing my best
not
to think about us together, I have to admit, it’s pretty tough. He’s just . . . right there, waiting for me to jump on him. Mine for the taking.

Unfortunately, the problem with me is fear. A persistent trepidation floods my conscience every time he makes a move, one that has me clamming up. If I had experience in this field, I wouldn’t be worrying about us sleeping together. I know, of course, he and Ali were intimate, but I’ve never been
that
friendly with a guy—okay, third base is the max. I’ve just never been able to share my thoughts and feelings with someone on a more personal level. This is all new to me. I can only hope he’ll notice that.

Ben sighs a bit too theatrically. “Of course I recognize you panic every time we kiss, or every time I touch you. I hate to say it, but it’s obvious you haven’t been with another guy.”

“That’s because nobody was ever really interested in me,” I say. “I had boyfriends, yes, but they broke things off, since they either just didn’t like me or they found another girl. I was never really serious.”

“Well, you are now, so get used to it.” Pushing all of his previous disappointment in me aside, Ben slips one arm around my waist, tugging me close. “C’mon, let’s go talk to Daciana and Ulric, or Alaric. Whoever it is.”

We continue to keep our eyes open for the werewolf on the loose. Just because that disturbing, berry-picking woman is the werewolf whisperer doesn’t mean Ben and I have a natural talent to do the same. Something about her gives me the heebie-jeebies. No, scratch that—this entire town gives me the creeps. Had we known how dire the situation is here, would we have traveled back in time to save our ancestors?

Breaking through the wall of saplings, Ben and I are welcomed by the old Peabody mansion, which we’ve been told is the current Lowell residence. Several of the wooden planks on the exterior of the home have been repaired, their color a stark contrast against the older beams, and the shutters on the windows are comprised of elaborate carvings. Even the front door boasts a stained-glass portrait of a woman with rays of light surrounding her head. I can only imagine what care they’ve given the inside.

We advance down the dirt road winding directly through the forest. The Lowell residence looms over us, becoming almost colossal in size, and Ben and I rest before pressing onward. From where I’m standing, I notice the claw marks ingrained in the door. Now
that
will make for an interesting story, should someone ask how they appeared.

“This is it,” Ben says. “We’ll actually come face to face with our ancestors. I know we’ve talked about it before, and that’s the purpose of our visit, but I think it’s just now hitting me. Shit just got real.”

I roll my eyes and snap my fingers a couple of times. “Focus. Their fate,” I say, pointing at the house, “rests in our hands. We have to keep ourselves in check.”

Ben shoots me an annoyed glare. “I wasn’t going to chicken out, if that’s what you’re saying. I just meant this is pretty fucking surreal at the moment. Like, our past meets our future at the same time, and they won’t even know it. If that doesn’t count as a mind fuck, I don’t know what does.”

“Yeah, I’ve reached my daily limit for cerebral fornications. C’mon, we have work to do.”

Ben motions toward the front door. “After you.”

I stomp up the steps first, and then rap three times on the door. Idly, I run my fingers over the indentations on the wood. Had we not been on the road here, I hate to think what would’ve happened to them. Would the werewolf have continued its assault until it broke through the paneling? Would it have cornered them, possibly ripped them apart, limb by limb? I shudder.

The door slowly creaks open, and the woman on the other side is none other than the bitch I had words with at Fiona’s. I’ll be damned.

“Thou art not welcome here,” she says pointedly.

“You see, that’s the thing. I think you need our help.”

Cautiously eyeing the two of us, she asks, “And why would thou think such a thing?”

Ben says, “We know about your wolf problem, and we’ve come to lend a hand.”

Her eyes enlarge, then progressively contract. “We are just fine without thee.” She begins closing the door, ready to shut it in our faces, but I jam my foot in the crack before she can seal it.

“Listen, you crazy woman, if I have to fight you, I swear I will. It’s nothing to me to punch you in the face and knock some sense into that thick skull of yours. We’re helping, whether you like it or not. You
need
us.”

She huffs. “I need naught from thee! Leave now!”

“I don’t think so,” Ben growls. He rams the door with his shoulder, nearly causing the woman to fall down. While he virtually foams at the mouth, and I try my best to calm him down.

Easy, tiger. Let’s not scare them just yet. We have to be civil for this to work.

Screw what’s correct. If they’re going to listen to us, we have to be aggressive.

I sigh.
Totally unnecessary. Watch.
Taking a couple of steps forward, I say, “I’m sorry about all of this, but I want you to know we’re not here to harm you. I’m sure you’re frightened. I would be, too. I’m Candra, by the way. Candra Low—” I catch myself before I make a big mistake. “Candra Lowry.”

Pulling herself together, the woman says, “And I am Daciana Lowell.”

I knew it,
I think.

You should just call her great-grandma, you know,
Ben adds.

I smack his arm for the internal monologue he provided, but Daciana doesn’t need to know that. “Apologize,” I tell him, making up an excuse.

“For what?”

“For busting through the front door uninvited.”

Though reluctant at first, Ben resigns. “I’m sorry.”

I face Daciana again. “You have to understand this is for your own good”—I peer around, noticing she’s alone—“and the good of the man we saw you with earlier. Where is he, anyway?”

“He is ensuring the doors and windows are securely fastened,” she replies. Jutting her nose in the air, she says, “If we plan on working together to rid this town of the wolf, then I suggest we begin by acquainting ourselves.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. God, I can’t believe I’m concurring with her at all, the crazy lady who has a knack for making others feel like shit. But if this is the path to Ben and I gaining her trust, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes to go the distance.

Daciana leads us down a long, dim hallway. No candles are lit, and even though it’s late afternoon, light is few and far between. Turning the corner to our left, the passage abruptly ends just ahead. Daciana opens one of the last doors, and we enter a room fit for a king. At least, that’s what I think. Numerous elegant chairs and mahogany tables adorn the room, and antique tapestries and artwork hang on the walls. The coffered ceiling is hand-painted; cherubs and angels keep each other company while playing musical instruments.

Across the room, a single candle is lit, and Daciana uses it to light the others in the room. When she finishes, a soft glow emanates from every corner. Suddenly, I do feel as if I’m in the sixteenth century. No electricity. No technological hoopla. Just books read by candlelight, and people who enjoy being in the company of others. Life was simple back then.

“I shall fetch Ulric so we may sit down and have a civilized discussion,” says Daciana. As soon as she leaves us, Ben and I stand in amazement at how beautiful the décor is.

“So . . . she’s rich, I’ll give her that,” Ben states, staring upward at the painted ceiling. “The question is”—he glances at me—“are they already under the curse, or has it not taken effect yet?”

“I’d say they’re normal right now. I mean, they wouldn’t have a werewolf after them if they weren’t. They’d be able to defend themselves, you know?”

“Yeah,” he responds, inattentively. “But I’m curious as to why that wolf is after them in the first place. What does it want?”

Both Ulric and Daciana enter the room.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” I mumble, so only Ben hears me.

Ulric observes us inquisitively, as if we’re rare pieces of artwork he’s about to spend lots of money on and he’s not certain he wants to buy. Although our attire is fitting for the sixteenth century, our lingo isn’t. Neither is our hair nor the way we carry ourselves. Everything about Ben and me screams,
We’re not from here!

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Ulric inquires, still keeping a safe distance.

Daciana gestures toward the chairs nearby, and we all sit in preparation of a severe chat.

Ben takes the reins on the conversation. “We’d like to discuss the wolf, which is after you. There are other important topics, and, honestly, I don’t know where to begin. I guess I’ll start by asking if either of you two know why the creature wants to attack you.”

A fleeting look passes between Ulric and Daciana, and Daciana is the first to speak.

“When I traveled with my parents from London, we stopped at an inn for the night. The wolf was there, outside my window, but far enough away that it did not see me at first. ’Twas not until it charged at some drunken fools that I yelled. That is the moment it saw me. Just . . . raised its glowing eyes and peered into my soul.” She visibly shudders and closes her eyelids as she recalls the incident. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “The men never noticed me, but somehow I scared the wolf away. Even though I was terrified of what I witnessed, I reminded myself afterward that I saved those men. They would be dead had I not shouted.”

“When you say you scared it off, what do you mean?” I ask. “Where did it go?”

“It returned to the forest.”

“And that was the only time you came in contact with the wolf before today?”

“Aye,” Daciana responds.

I nod sympathetically and direct my attention to Ulric. “What about you? Have you seen the wolf before today?”

“I have,” Ulric says. “’Twas a night not so long ago, when I was in my cottage. I was restless and sought fresh air. That was the time I observed it first. It seemed to be looking for something, or someone. Another cottage sits nearby, but ’twas not concerned in the least bit with that dwelling. It then turned its enormous head toward our home and met my eyes. I felt as if . . . as if I could not breathe. As if it sucked the very air from my lungs.” Ulric is visibly shaken by the event, and his eyes dart around the room at nothing in particular, almost like he’s reliving the horror again. “It came at me, and I boarded up my room, and my brother’s. I checked the lock across the front entrance. Once I knew all was safe and secure, I returned to my window, where I sat, waiting for the creature of darkness to burst through at any moment.”

“And did it?” Ben questions.

Ulric shakes his head. “Nay, my eyes did not see it again until this very day.”

Ben sends me a sidelong gaze, expressing concern. His interest returns to our long-lost family members. “Neither of you have any clue as to why this wolf is following you?”

They deny any knowledge of the why’s or how’s, which only causes more uneasiness. Here we are, facing our ancient flesh and blood, and they are absolutely petrified. They don’t know why a werewolf is after them. They don’t even know that it
is
a werewolf. All they know is that some wild, rabid, ginormous wolf has a vendetta.