Bright Moon (18 page)

After the episode in Tyson’s bedroom, she
did her best to avoid him. The cottage was small, but they managed
to keep apart. She got up early to eat, sometimes before Dawn who
seemed to otherwise live in the kitchen. After that, she would try
to read from a small collection of books she’d discovered in the
living area. She found it was hard to focus on anything when all
she could think about was Jothram or the desire she had to become a
werewolf. The week was nearly up when she decided she was done with
yet another book. Listening for movement, she hurried downstairs.
The bookshelf was located next to the TV in the entertainment room.
Clara put the book back and scanned the shelves for anything that
looked remotely interesting.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

She jumped and wheeled around. Her attempt
to be quick and discreet caused her to overlook the fact that Tyson
sat on the sofa. “I haven’t,” she lied after the initial fear
subsided.

“You haven’t pestered me about Jothram for
days, I would say you’re avoiding me,” he said as he stood and
strode over.

She looked to the floor and twirled her hair
when another lie wouldn’t come as easily.

“Perhaps we’ve been avoiding each
other.”

Her attention snapped to him.

“I’m not very good at apologies and I owe
you one,” he explained.

She shook hear head. “No, you don’t have
to—”

He put a finger on her lips and it was
impossible to look away from his intense gaze, even when a pleasing
shiver played down her spine. “I’m sorry for behaving like a
bully
, alright?”

She nodded and her heart fell when he
removed his touch. Despite her racing heart, she managed to speak
in a small voice. “I-I’m sorry for going in your room.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do
anything I wouldn’t have in your place, as you well know.”

“Mesha said she would never dare go in your
room. I don’t mean to do anything the others can’t.”

“Mesha has a respectful fear of me, but the
truth is, she can come and go as she pleases. The same is true of
you, or anyone else in the pack. She is right, there are certain
things she would be better off not doing, but even if you were
infected I wouldn’t be able to punish you like I do everyone
else.”
“You wouldn’t be able to treat me as you do the others?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It is very…complicated.”

“Does that mean I wouldn’t be welcome in the
pack?”

“Of course you would.”

Tyson was as evasive as ever and Clara let
the matter rest, knowing he would never give something up by
persuasion. “Does this mean we’re going to find Jothram soon?”

He laughed. “You’ve been very patient. I
planned to leave before, but the blizzard came and spoiled
everything. It’s supposed to be clear the next few days, how does
leaving tomorrow sound?”

Her face brightened. “Really?”

“As long as nothing changes.”

“Good! I was beginning to think you would
never say yes.”

“A promise is a promise,” he said
bluntly.

“Thank you!” she said while beaming.

“Wait until tomorrow to thank me, it’s
freezing out there.”

“I don’t care. How many days will it take us
to get to him?”

“Only a couple, but that is still a night in
the freezing elements, not to mention the return journey.”

“It doesn’t matter, I will be fine,” she
promised quickly before he could change his mind. Part of her was
relieved just to be getting out of the house. Another part of her
was anxious about finally meeting Jothram. Tyson nodded and glanced
at the bookshelf.

“Have you found anything you like?” he
asked, indicating the books.

“I don’t know, my mind won’t focus on them.”
She ran a hand over the spines of the books. “Reading usually
offers me an escape, but I haven’t been able to focus.”

“I know you have been cooped up and I
understand it’s not easy, especially when the snow blocks the sun.
You’ve been handling it very well.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going to scream,”
Clara whispered. “It’s so quiet here when most of you are
gone.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“You seem calmer than the others,” she
observed. “And you go on the fewest outings. Don’t you feel trapped
too?”

“Yes. They can’t protect you the way I can,
so I stay as long as possible.”

Her heart seemed to stop. Whether it was
from fear or elation, she couldn’t tell. “Do you think Parker or
Mark will find us here?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think so, but it never
hurts to be on our guard.”

“We switched so many flights—I thought you
shook them off our trail for awhile.”

“They always find us eventually.”

“It’s a good thing we’re going to find
Jothram tomorrow, we can finally put all these ideas to rest.”

His jaw tensed and his teeth ground. “Don’t
be too sure.”

But Clara knew she had to be sure, otherwise
she would go insane.

That night, Clara was too excited and had to
count werewolves in her head until she dozed off. The freezing
elements came sooner than Tyson warned. She woke in the middle of
the night to find her window wide open. The second she opened her
eyes she knew something wasn’t right. Her blankets had been kicked
off and she shivered. Unfamiliar dark eyes appeared over her when
she moved to sit up. The strange man pressed a rag to her nose and
mouth so quickly she could only claw at his hand while her
consciousness slipped.

Mind numbing pain woke her from the drug
induced slumber. She screamed, and tried to lash out at her captor,
but he was no longer in sight. Her hands were bound in front of her
with harsh cord. Blue sky smiled down and the hard wood beneath her
back rocked when she moved to sit up.

“Stay down!” a voice hissed and a hand
shoved her to the curved walls of the small boat. It rocked on
waves made by the motion. The man wore thick, white snow gear that
covered every inch of his body except his face. A few bits of
random, dark, wavy hair stuck from his fur trimmed hat and his
warm, hazel eyes didn’t match the frosty tone of his voice.

The bitter cold air was what had originally
forced her awake when the breeze stung her skin. She wore nothing
more than her pajamas and shivered somewhat violently. “W-w-w-who
a-are y-y-y-you?” she asked through chattering teeth while subtly
trying to work the ropes off.

His laugh was jovial and he leaned down,
causing the boat to rock again. “Haven’t they told you about me?”
His breath crystallized in the air before her.

“P-Parker?”
“Yes, indeed! One and the same! Although, only my enemies refer to
me as Parker. My name is James.” He bent to rummage through a
backpack that sat in the bough and produced a blanket. Once
located, he tossed it carelessly over her. “You and I are going to
be dealing with one another for a very long time, I would hate for
us to start out enemies.”

“W-w-w-where—”

“Where are we going? Or, perhaps you are
wondering where we are? I am at a bit of a loss. My companion was
supposed to meet me here on the shoreline, but he took too long and
I started without him. He is also my guide and it will be a long
journey without him. I’m afraid you aren’t dressed for a long
journey, are you?”

There was no response to such a question.
Even if there had been, she wasn’t given a chance when an earth
rocking boom erupted from somewhere beyond the water. She fought to
sit up once more, but he pushed her down again.

“Keep still.”

“W-w-w-what w-w-was—”

“Don’t worry, they are only fighting.”

“F-f-fight-t-t-ting?”
“Yes, that is why I lost Mark. He doubled back with the others to
keep your pack at bay.”

“M-M-Mark?”

“Hmm,” Parker said and nodded as way of
response. He dropped to one knee over the backpack and began
searching within once more. He produced a length of canvas tightly
rolled together. Placing it on the bench, he slowly unrolled it. “I
wish you had not ignored my emails,” he said and his teeth flashed
when he smiled.

“You c-c-cannot t-t-trick me th-th-that
easily, m-m-my m-mother is d-d-d-d-ead.” Her teeth clicked as she
spoke.

His grin did not falter and he lifted the
flap of the pouch. In it were small glass tubes with deep red
contents and two capped syringes. He scooted a vile from its place
and held it between his forefinger and thumb, giving it a shake.
“Are you sure about that? This is her blood.”

Her eyes followed the tiny bottle. “You’re
l-l-l-lying!” she yelled with a shake of her head. Her focus
wavered however. Her fingers and toes felt solid. Parker shrugged
and took the syringe, filling it with the thick red contents. She
sat up and the blanket fell away. He did not stop her, too
preoccupied by the needle in his hands.

“This will be easier if you don’t fight it,”
he said informatively, as if he was a doctor and she had come in
for her yearly visit. He shifted toward her and the boat bobbed
again, but a shout drew their attention.

“CLARA!”

Callan was barely discernable, but it was he
standing with his hands cupped over his mouth to call her name. The
hope that surged in her chest washed to the wayside when Parker
moved toward her again. She kicked from his reach, but he shook his
head in frustration and scooted closer. He was so near that he was
suddenly all she could see, hear and smell. He breathed quickly in
anticipation and his eyes lit with evil wonder. His suit smelled of
plastic and heavy cologne.

“You’re m-making a m-m-m-mistake!” she
managed to get the words out, but he would not listen. He reached
toward her again and there was nowhere left to retreat as they
drifted on the icy lake. The moment before he pressed the needle to
her skin, wintry fear spurred her into action. She kicked as hard
as she could, leaning to one side and half rising. The boat rocked
and Parker grabbed the sides in effort to steady it. She leaned
hard to her left and the boat capsized, slipping out from under
them. James Parker gave an angry bellow, but it was cut off when
they hit the surface. The icy water immediately constricted her
chest and she fought for awareness as she forced her legs to kick
against the current that pulled her deeper into the endless
abyss.

The sun glowed through the water and bits of
light flickered in the enveloping black, like lightning striking in
slow motion. She realized her fight was a losing one, even with her
hands free she would not have made it. She stopped kicking. The
further she sank, the less pain she felt. She was just starting to
imagine she even felt warm when the rush of water filled her ears
and a huge black bulk rose under her. The wolf’s mouth took a hold
of the ropes binding her hands and pulled her toward the light. She
heard swooshing as they broke through ice and the surface. Her body
began trying to gasp for air, but she could not swallow. She tried
to cough, but nothing seemed to work air down her throat. The black
wolf worked his body under her and pulled her toward shore. She
struggled to breathe one last time before her vision went bleary,
then faded.

Callan sensed his sister struggling for life
and failing. He also felt when her body gave up breathing
altogether. He paddled hard to the shoreline, tearing through large
chunks of ice drifting serenely by. Jack took her in his arms when
they reached land. The sickening shade of pale blue she was turning
caused their stomachs to turn to rot. Her lips were deep maroon in
color and lifeless. Jack laid her in the snow and pumped her heart,
his eyes filled with varying degrees of fear. What if he crushed
her body in his attempts to save her? What if they’d come too late?
He offered her breath, but her body would not receive it. Too
emotional to even attempt morphing, Callan watched and whimpered.
He stood rigid as each artificial pump of her heart seemed to call
a frost deeper than winter upon her.

A sudden gush of wind announced another’s
arrival and Tyson came to a stop in the midst of the panicked two.
The smell hanging over him was thick with blood, which made sense
when he saw the fresh gaping wounds on his arm. The wounds had not
had a chance to heal in the time it took him to run to them and
they sealed even as his breath caught in his throat at the sight of
Clara’s limp form.

“She’s not coming back!” Jack growled
desperately. “Ty, she’s not coming back!”

Tyson was next to her the next moment and
jerked her body upright, causing her head to loll frighteningly. He
pounded her back and her body moved roughly. She wheezed, then
coughed as water spilled from her lips. Callan’s tail wagged once
when she inhaled deeply and leaned forward to expel more water, but
her body instantly was wracked with tremors as if she were having a
fit.

“We have to get her warm,” Tyson said and
laced his fingers through the cord binding her hands, breaking them
with a jerking motion.

“Warm water is the quickest way to raise her
temperature,” Jack said.

“She will not survive the journey back to
the house,” Tyson denied with a shake of his head as he held onto
Clara, keeping her from the snow. Callan whined again and went
carefully to his sister’s side. His large body caused the snow to
crunch when he lay down. Tyson knew immediately what he meant and
changed shape after placing her carefully in Callan’s fur and off
the icy ground. He lay next to Callan, covering as much of her as
he dared without actually crushing her, all while ensuring she did
not fall or touch the ground. Mesha approached, arriving in a
silver flash and offering the heat of her body as well. Their
thoughts were conjoined and they did not need to explain. Dawn was
not far behind. Jack was the last to spread his wolf body over the
dog pile and they acted as a living incubator for the trembling
mortal.