Bright Moon (11 page)

“What’s your name?”
“Callan,” she said the first name that popped in her head.

“Callan?” the officer asked
disbelievingly.

“Yes,” she affirmed with forced bravado.

“Callan what?”

“Smith.”

He raised a brow at her.

“I’m sorry, I hope you find who you’re
looking for, but I have a lot to do today if you’ll kindly let go
of my arm?” He did not heed the hint.

“Ma’am, I don’t believe your name is Callan
Smith
.”

“I have no control over what you
believe.”

The black and white peppered mustache under
his nose twitched. “I have eyes ma’am and I would appreciate it if
you didn’t insult my intelligence. Do yourself a favor and don’t
make a scene here. I’m giving you a chance to come quietly.”

Her mind rushed to think of something she
could say to get out of the situation, but was saved the trouble
when Tyson’s voice growled over them. “Do yourself a favor and let
her go.” He came from nowhere as he had a tendency to do, bearing a
scowl that would have incinerated the guard if it were any more
severe. The teenage worker stepped back while holding his bangs to
one side.

“Who are you?” the man demanded. “I’m going
to have to ask you to step back, son.”

Tyson laughed. “Let go of her, now.”

“I am authorized—” he started to oppose, but
the sentence was never finished. The guard went flying before
anyone knew what happened and landed on a stand of brightly labeled
clearance items that crashed to the floor. The young man was
suddenly frozen and stared with buggy eyes.

“Tyson!” Clara said through her teeth. “You
didn’t have to hurt him!”

“He’s not hurt.” He nodded toward the guard
who was getting to his feet. People began appearing around shelves
and wracks of clothing, eager to see the unfolding drama. Tyson
grabbed her wrist and jerked her so quickly that she dropped her
bag. She ran to keep up, but he didn’t stop until they came to the
car and he pushed her in.

“What just happened?” she asked him
breathlessly as the engine roared to life. “How did they know who I
was?”

The car sped out the lot, jolting when he
didn’t heed the speed bumps. “Parker must have you on TV.”

“TV? How is that possible?”

“He could have reported you as missing, or
as someone involved in a crime. They must have seen your picture on
the news or something.”

“Maybe it would be better for all of us if
this Parker person actually met me,” she commented in an offhand
manner. Tyson turned to her with a horrified expression.

“Why would you suggest such a thing?!”

“I can’t help but think if he knew me he
would
know
he had the wrong girl.”

“How would he know that?”

“Do you really think anyone who’s a…a…”

“Werewolf.”

“Yes.” She began nervously toying with her
hair. “Nobody like that could love me, could they?”
He glanced at her as he drove. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “I am mortal.”

“Werewolves have loved mortals before.”

“You mentioned mortals have intertwined with
werewolves, but they’ve
loved
one another? How did they make
the relationship work?”

“That’s a good question, I never wanted to
find the answer before.”

“Oh.” A small bubble of hope had grown in
her chest and popped at his words. She looked away while twisting
her hair, relieved when they arrived at the hotel a few minutes
later.

“Come on,” he said. Clara reached for the
door handle, but he had it open before she could touch it. They
rushed up, this time taking the elevator. Callan and Mesha were
there and appeared to have
worked out their differences
.
Callan lay on the bed nearest the door and Mesha was at the table,
eating again. The TV was on the news channel, but had been muted. A
man stood by the window. Clara recognized him as the one who helped
fight off the wild dogs back at the mansion.

“Jack,” Tyson acknowledged the addition with
a nod of his head.

“Tyson.” He pointed to the television. “Did
you realize she’s all over the news?”

“Now you tell me! We’ve got to get out of
here. Wake Callan.”

Clara moved to better see the screen as they
sprang into action. Her picture, one she used on a social
networking site, was in the upper right hand corner. A newsman’s
mouth moved voicelessly as he stared intently at her. She read the
headline hovering behind his head.
Disturbed Young Woman Robs
Local Convenience Store.
Glad she couldn’t hear the announcer,
she punched the button to turn the set off. She was just in time to
see Jack wake Callan by hitting him in the arm. Rubbing his eyes,
her brother stood from the bed. “What’s going on?” he asked
sleepily.

“Pack up, Clara was spotted.”

Callan rushed to her. “What happened?” he
asked, giving her a once over to make sure she was in one
piece.

“I’m fine, nothing happened.”

“You said you would take care of her,”
Callan shot irritably at Tyson.

Clara grabbed her brother’s arm. “He did
take care of me, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.”

He was somewhat pacified by her answer. “If
anything happens I will never forgive myself.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she said.

“Hurry.” Tyson started urging people out of
the room. Back in the car, Mesha put her things in the trunk. Jack
came out of the hotel last, but never gave the car a glance.
Instead, he rapidly walked away.

“Is he going to run?” Mesha asked and Tyson
nodded. “He’s going to meet you later on, right?”

“Of course, he just isn’t a fan of being
confined in small spaces.” Tyson got behind the wheel.

“I’m going with him,” Mesha said and ran
after his retreating back.

“That’s a relief,” Callan sighed as he
watched her go.

“I thought I told you to work things out,”
Tyson said tiredly.

“We did, that doesn’t make the tension more
tolerable.”

Clara wondered how they’d
worked things
out
, but wasn’t given a chance to inquire. Callan opened the
car door, indicating she should sit in front. She obliged without
questioning his passive aggressive attitude. Just like that, they
were on the road again. Tyson pressed the gas to the floor and
dodged around anything in his way. He seemed irritated that the car
could not go faster.

“What will you do if you get pulled over?”
she asked after a particularly close call.

“Tyson can usually see the cops before they
see him,” Callan told her.

“I’ve never been pulled over,” Tyson
affirmed.

Callan had implied heightened senses came
when they were in their wolf forms, but Tyson’s reflexes were so
fine tuned she was sure they were going to crash and shut her eyes
on more than one occasion. Tyson and Callan, however, were relaxed.
Several times, Clara gasped “Watch out!” By the time her words were
out, he’d passed the obstacle she thought impossible to avoid.
After a sharp turn, she put her arm out to keep from falling. She’d
put her seatbelt on, but thought she’d need two with Tyson’s crazy
driving. She heard Callan inhale sharply and his fingers closed
around her arm.

“Clara, what happened?” he asked as he
fingered the gash she sustained when the wolves attacked. The top
of the wound was visible under the collar of her shirt.

“Wolves,” she said, assuming he’d been
told.

“Wolves?” he asked. The cut had healed over
into a nice purple scab. “What do you know about this?” he asked
Tyson, brandishing the wound and nearly tearing her arm from its
socket.

“No,” Tyson said with a shake of his head.
“That can’t be the same wound.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You tended
to it.”

Tyson’s brow fell and he leaned closer,
freeing a hand to pull her shirt down at the neckline. “This is
nearly healed. It can’t be the same—”

“She heals quickly,” Callan pointed out. “My
mom was the same way. Remember that time you broke your arm and the
doctor removed the cast a week later?”

“It must have been a small fracture, no
doctor would—”

“No, it wasn’t. I was there. Her arm was
dangling in an odd way and the bone stuck out of her skin.
Actually, I remember thinking it was kind of cool. The doctor said
it was miraculous how quickly she healed, but nobody in the family
was surprised.”

“You left out
how
my arm was broken,”
she interjected.

“That was an accident, I keep telling you it
wasn’t my fault!”

The response she had ready died when Tyson
jerked the car around. They skidded across four lanes of traffic
and fishtailed when he got it pointed in the opposite direction.
Clara smacked into the door as the car straightened out.

“What the heck was that about?” Callan
yelled from his position on the floor.

“You never told me that about Clara.”

“I never thought it was relevant, I don’t
see how it is now.”

“I don’t know if it is, but there are too
many coincidences and I think your father has some explaining to
do,” Tyson all but growled.

“My
father
?” Callan practically
yelled and his head reappeared between the seats. “You can’t take
us back! The infected mutts were just near there!”

“I don’t care, we need to know.”

“What coincidences?” she asked.

“People don’t heal that way, that combined
with Parker’s mysterious interest in you has me thinking your
father might know something he needs to share.”

Callan leaned forward. “What about Mesha…and
Jack? They’re on foot.”

“We won’t be far behind.”

“We can’t go back,” Callan muttered. “I’m
not on the best terms with my dad, I told you that.”

“That was a long time ago, surely he will be
relieved to see you at the very least,” Tyson said.

“Yeah, he’ll be relieved Clara’s with me.”
Callan sat back and folded his arms over his chest.

“You aren’t going to lose it are you?” Tyson
was watching him closely in the rearview mirror. Callan shook his
head.

“No, I think I’m good.”

“You
think
? You need to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Callan corrected himself.

“What do you mean when you say
lose
it
? You asked Mesha the same thing,” she wondered.

“We tend to have tempers,” Tyson informed
her as he watched Callan off and on. “If we let ourselves get too
worked up, the wolf instincts will take over and destruction
ensues. It’s especially hard for a pup like your brother to stay in
control.”

“A pup?” she twisted in her seat to look at
Callan. He gave her a half grin and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what we call the ones who’ve
recently become infected and are just learning to control their new
werewolf bodies.”

“Callan,” she tried to reassure her twin.
“You know dad worried about you, he may have changed, but he still
loves you.”

“He
said
he was worried?” Callan
asked pointedly.

“Well, no. He didn’t have to, I could
tell.”

He laughed shortly. “Yeah, right.” He stared
out the window at the passing trees while his leg bounced up and
down irritably. She turned and sat back down, telling herself that
when her dad saw Callan, everything would work out.

“How far are we from home?” she asked
Tyson.

He glanced at her then to the sky as if
trying to determine the time. “It’s hard to say, we might get there
in a couple days.”

“Days?” Her jaw dropped. “How far did we
travel while you were in your wolf form?”

Callan’s head appeared between the seats.
“Wait, wait, wait...let me get this straight. Tyson let you ride on
his back?”

“Umm…” she looked to Tyson for an
answer.

“Yes, she rode on my back,” he growled.

Callan’s eyebrows lifted so high she thought
they were going to shoot right off his face. “You, Clara, my
sister, rode a werewolf?”

She started to answer, but Tyson cut her
off. “Yes she did, alright? How else were we supposed to get around
without being seen?”
A few hoots of laughter erupted from the backseat. “I wish I was
there to see that!”

“Is it bad?” she asked as Callan broke into
more fits of laughter.

“Bad?” Callan said between laughs. “It’s not
bad, it’s just amusing to think of big, tough Tyson letting a
mortal ride on his back.”

She saw his point, even if she wasn’t as
amused. When in his wolf form, Tyson was a wonder to behold and
could strike fear into the heart of anyone who lay eyes on him.
Tyson ignored the laughter and kept his eyes on the road. Feeling
guilty, she tried to say something in his defense. “I thought it
was pretty exciting.”

“I bet it was!” Callan retorted.

“Perhaps you would care to join Jack and
Mesha?” Tyson barked. Callan’s laughter died instantaneously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was such a
big deal,” she mumbled. A snicker followed before Callan remembered
to pipe down.

“It’s not. Your brother is being
ridiculous.”

Clara nodded and kept her eyes on her widow,
watching as the green scenery passed. She wondered how Callan would
react if he knew how Tyson kept her warm that night in the
woods.

The day brought
nonstop driving and Tyson went as fast as ever. Soon, the nerves of
watching someone push a car so fast wore down as Clara got used to
the speed and Tyson’s reflexes. He barely stopped for anything more
than a bathroom break. That night he showed compassion and found a
hotel.

The evening was uneventful. She guessed
Tyson had a taste for the finer things as he’d chosen another hotel
with only the finest things to offer. Aside from the nightmare that
plagued her sleep, she had a regular night. Tyson roused them
bright and early. Callan seemed to need more sleep than Tyson and
was hard to wake from his place on the second bed. When he did get
up, he was groggy and listless until food entered his system.