Bright Moon (26 page)

“I came to check on you first,” Mesha
said.

“I won’t deny that,” Callan agreed with a
nod. “She was snoring in here long before I came.”

Mesha gasped, “I do
not
snore!”

Callan smiled triumphantly and rested his
elbows on his knees. “Yes you do. Clara, tell her.”

“No,” Clara said and went to the closet.
“Don’t drag me in the middle of this.”

“Do I really snore?” Mesha asked her with a
horrified expression.

“Of course not. He used to tell me the same
thing just to get under my skin.”

Callan got lazily to his feet. “It makes
sense you wouldn’t notice, sis, because you really do snore.”

“If our snoring offends you so much, why did
you stay?” Mesha grumbled under her breath.

“I never said I minded.” He strode to the
door. Mesha watched him from her somber, yellow eyes that wore a
scowl. “I guess I’ll see you downstairs,” he said as way of
parting. Mesha kept her scowl until she was sure he wouldn’t
return, but her eyes softened and lingered on the door a moment
more than they should. Clara turned quickly to mask a smile that
spread over her face.

“I think I’ll just get dressed now,” she
said.

“Right,” Mesha said thickly.

A quiet, content sort of fatigue fell over
the members of the pack until the moon came out again. To Clara, it
looked just as full as the night before, but the others were not
nearly as affected.

She had not seen Tyson since he’d left her
at her door. The hope of seeing him again was sometimes squelched
by nerves. Her sleep schedule had been thrown off and she didn’t
get to bed until late into the night when the house was still and
seemingly empty. Mesha summoned her from slumber in the wee hours
of the morning. “What is it?” she asked and rubbed her eyes.

“Tyson wants to speak with us,” Mesha
said.

“
Us
? What does he want to talk
about?”

“He didn’t say,” she answered with a shake
of her head. Clara scrambled to get dressed and followed her friend
outside where Tyson waited. When they stepped from the front door,
she was immediately bombarded with a dissonance of shrieks and
calls. Red mountains hung in the backdrop and lush vegetation
surrounded them, but Tyson stood in the open. Not far behind,
picking through the grass and small shrubs, was a flock of hundreds
of shouting galahs. Their white heads contrasted against their rosy
breasts as they bobbed to forage for seeds. The serious expression
Tyson wore kept her from the wonder of seeing so many birds so
near. Dawn, Jack and Callan were there as well, standing before
Tyson as soldiers might before their general.

To say Tyson looked troubled would have been
an understatement. His hands were hidden in his pockets and his
eyes were downcast in an unusual display of insecurity. Mesha took
a hold of her hand. Callan, Jack and Dawn smiled encouragingly.

“It is time for me to keep my promise, Miss
Rita,” Tyson said when she’d joined them. “I have wandered as far
as I could to secure the surrounding lands and found no trace of
anything menacing. Jack, Dawn, Callan and Mesha have agreed to
guard you. While I am gone, I would ask that you stay in the house
unless you are riding Callan.”

Mesha huffed, clearly annoyed by Tyson’s
choice. Tyson ignored her.

“They will be in their wolf forms while I am
gone because they can hear, smell and see further that way. I have
instructed them on how to patrol while I am gone. You must do as
they say, alright?”

“Of course,” she said with a nod. “How long
will you be?”

“I should return before the sun sets.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to take someone?”

He shook his head, still very serious. “This
is how it must be.”

Her stomach knotted with worry and she
pretended to be interested in the flock to divert attention from
him. He reached out touch her cheek. His eyes were veiled with such
sadness that she could not look away a second time.

“Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise you
will be here when I return.”

“I will be,” she answered and worked to keep
her voice even. “I wish you would take someone, you are the one
taking such a risk going alone.”

“Tell me to stay then,” he muttered, still
caressing her cheek. “Tell me you don’t care about Jothram.”

She opened her mouth, but he placed a hand
over her lips.

“You won’t be satisfied, not until you’ve
met him. I will bring him…for your peace, I will bring him.”

Her back shivered when he placed a hand on
each side of her face. Suddenly, he kissed her hard, once on the
mouth. Her heart pulsed painfully at the shortness of it. He
touched his forehead to hers, drawing her even closer.

“You will break his heart, Bright Moon,” he
whispered.

“Tyson—”

He stopped her whispered plea with another
kiss, a softer, more longing one. When he pulled back, his face was
plastered with the pain he usually kept hidden so well, such pain
that she could not tell all that ailed him. His shirt crumpled in
her fists and he released her to remove them.

“Tyson—” she began again, but he shook his
head and could not meet her eye. She reached to touch him and he
vanished. His sudden absence was like a strike in the gut and she
gasped for breath. The galahs took off, screaming and filled the
air with their noise. She wanted to scream too. Tears shimmered in
her eyes. A long, silver snout touched her cheek and licked the
tears away.

He’d said he’d come back that night and so,
she waited. Knots of nerves took up residence in her stomach and
the sensation only grew with each hour. The others didn’t seem to
worry. They did as he’d said and kept to their wolf forms so the
only way she could communicate was by touch. Even so, she did not
talk to them much as worry ate at her.

They alternated patrolling the yard and
watching her. Two of them were always with her, not letting her out
of their sight. She thought they were being a little extreme when
they even stood guard outside the bathroom door.

Afternoon wore on and still, he had not
come. She could not eat and the hours dragged on like days. She
took to nervously pacing the front room as Mesha and Callan
watched. Jack and Dawn were out, patrolling the grounds as the sun
fell. Still, he did not return and fear for him overrode any
excitement she felt in anticipation of meeting Jothram. She went to
Callan, who was upside down on the couch with his legs sticking
straight in the air and his paws flopped over. He’d been sleeping
and peeked at her between thin slits when she rested a hand on his
chest.

“Do you think something’s happened?” she
asked him.

He inhaled slowly and the air whooshed out
through his nose.
“He can take care of himself, sis.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying so before…”

“
That was a fluke, he’ll be back
soon,”
Callan replied, trying to ease her worry. She sat on a
cushion, pushing at him so he would make room. Mesha lay on the
floor with her head on her paws. Clara could not fathom how they
could remain so calm. She watched the backdoor, which was visible
from her vantage point. She nodded off several times, but she’d
wake with a start, sure she’d heard someone coming through the
door. When she’d heard the sound the fifth or sixth time, she stood
quietly and slipped her shoes on. She paused to listen before she
opened the door and heard nothing. Mesha and Callan were sound
asleep, breathing heavily when she pulled the door open.

The night was cool and calm despite the
clouds blocking the stars that dusted the sky. The moon had not yet
risen and there was a sense of calm before the pure white light
would beckon to her sitters. She was about to shut the door when
she heard Tyson’s voice.

“Clara?”

His voice was weak and she rushed from the
safety of the walls without trepidation. She peered around the
corners of the house, glancing left and right in effort to catch
sight of him. The uncertain stillness reminded her of the promise
she’d made to stay indoors and she turned to go back. Her heart
nearly jumped from her chest when she saw Mark blocking the way.
His grin broke into a laugh at the look on her face.

“Go ahead and call to them if you like, but
you’ll never save Tyson that way.”

“What have you done with him?” she
hissed.

Mark held up his hands as if to calm her.
“Sh! I will give you the choice to come with me now and save him,
or go back inside where it’s warm and safe.” He stepped aside to
offer her a path. She glanced to it and could see her brother
through the door she’d left ajar. Shaking her head, she said, “Take
me to Tyson.”

Mark smiled knowingly. “Good girl.” He came
at her and knocked her out the same way Parker had before, only
this time she didn’t fight.

Water trickled
over her face, startling her from sleep. When she opened her eyes,
a bright light disoriented her. Her body lay against hard
cement.

“No!” a male voice cried out. “Don’t wake
her!”

She pushed from the ground and the light
shifted to reveal Mark. He was behind a smart phone with a dark
blue casing, using it to record. He held an empty plastic bottle in
his other hand. Next to her, kneeling on the cement floor was the
man she’d only ever seen the nose and eyes of, but knew to be James
Parker. It had been he who tried to stop Mark from waking her. He
held a syringe in one hand, poised to inject her with its deep red
contents.

“Where is he?” she asked Mark as she wiped
the water from her face.

“Don’t worry, I let him go,” Mark said then
turned the lens on himself. “He will see this later. Isn’t it cute
how she worries?” he asked the camera to taunt his brother.

“This would have been easier if she was
asleep,” Parker grumbled.

“Tyson deserves to see her struggle.”

Anger coursed through her with boiling hot
retaliation. Her green eyes glimmered when they shot from the phone
to the syringe Parker held. Without stopping to think, she pushed
off the cinderblock wall and swiped the needle from him. He cried
out and scrambled backward, but he misread her intent. Instead of
attacking him, she slammed the needle into her thigh, pushing the
plunger down until it emptied completely. A stunned silence
followed as the men watched with shocked expressions.

“You have the wrong girl!” she spat and
tossed the needle aside. Feeling vulnerable, she got to her
feet.

“How could you possibly know that?” Parker
asked and carefully reached for the pouch he’d abandoned at her
feet.

“I do
not
love Jothram! I never
could.”

He raised an eyebrow while Mark kept the
smart phone trained on her. “What does that have to do with
anything?”

“He can’t love someone who could never love
him, right? I don’t and never could love him.”

“What makes you so sure?” Parker asked.

She glanced to Mark’s phone. “I…I love
someone else.”

“Oh man!” Mark howled and a loud fit of
laughter followed. Parker didn’t laugh, but looked rather
amused.

“This man you love wouldn’t happen to be
Tyson, would he?”

She bit her cheek and nodded. Mark hooted
again and Parker chuckled. “Although your logic is a little skewed,
you seal your fate with your admission.
Tyson Knight
hasn’t
been honest with you in all regards. If he had, you would know he
is Jothram, and not only is it possible for him to love you, it is
reality.”

Her stomach dropped as if someone hit her
with a baseball bat. She reacted by physically cringing. Her hand
shot to the cold wall to steady her from falling. “You’re lying!”
she accused as her face drained of color.

“Your expression says you know it’s true,”
Parker answered. “Either that, or your mother’s blood has begun to
infect you.”

“My mother is dead!” she screamed in
frustration.

He smirked confidently. “Did you see her
body?”

She sucked in a deep breath and shook her
head. “But…she wouldn’t abandon us.”

“What if she didn’t have a choice?” Parker
asked quietly. “What if she left
for
you?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
she yelled. Her temper seemed to heat her body and she struggled to
catch breath.

“What does arguing profit us now? By this
time tomorrow we’ll know if you are the
cure
.”

The sensation of white hot heat started in
her thigh where the needle had pierced her skin. Slowly, the
burning spread until it covered her entirely. She waited for some
other tell-tale sign that she’d been infected. She didn’t burst
into a giant body of fur, nor did the overbearing wild wolf
instinct claim her thoughts. She wasn’t suddenly equipped with
lightning speed, or shocking strength. Instead, she grew weaker by
the moment until her legs gave way and she slid to the floor. The
room was suddenly very cold and she shivered.

“That was anticlimactic,” she heard Mark
say.

“She’s infected now,” Parker responded.
“What more do you need?”

Indescribable pain claimed her for what
might have been days for all she knew. Sometimes she woke to
unbearable heat and, other times she was even colder than she’d
been while submerged in the ice lake. Her body felt as if someone
were slowly turning her inside out. In her fevered state, she heard
her mother and felt her comforting arms. The vision was broken only
by Mark’s jeering voice when he came to film her misery for Tyson
and the others to witness. When he did, she was reminded of a pain
that would outlast any physical trauma. She emerged from the bleary
realm of darkness prematurely when someone shook her roughly by the
shoulder.

“Come on,” a girl’s voice was saying. “You
have to wake up!”