By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) (34 page)

"We'll think of something," I said.

We sat in silence. I spent the time racking
my brain to come up with an idea of what to do. The situation
seemed hopeless.

"I just don't know, Ty."

He pressed his clenched fists to his mouth
and watched me. I returned his gaze, trying to read his thoughts
and failing miserably.

"I know one thing I can do," he said,
standing. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"What!" I refused to believe what I was
hearing. "You're breaking up with me?"

"Yes." He held up his hand to stop me from
interrupting. "We both know this is because of me. Someone wants to
take you out because of your relationship
with me
. If I
can't keep you safe, then I'll make damn sure I take away this
bastard's motivation for wanting to hurt you."

"You can just do that? Just walk away?" Tears
burned the back of my eyes. "I thought you loved me."

"It's not a matter of whether or not I love
you. It's a matter of what will keep you safe."

"And leaving me exposed and alone is the only
way?"

"Until I root out the killer, yes."

Part of me knew his idea made sense. But
mostly I was scared to death to be without him. "You don't have to
do this." My voice broke on the words.

His eyes hardened. "I do, and I will. I want
you to stay away from me. Don't call and don't try to contact me on
the sly. I want this person to know we've gone our separate
ways."

"Ty..."

"No." He paused. "I'm sorry, Mac. This isn't
easy for me, but it's for the best. You deserve someone better
anyway."

My tears fell freely at his words. "Please
don't do this. I need you."

He knelt down in front of me and brushed the
hair away from my face. "You'll be better off, and we both know
it."

The back door slammed when he left. Watching
him go finally loosened my hold over my emotions. I buried my face
in the arm of the couch and cried.

o0o

When at last I thought I had cried my very
last tear, I locked myself in my room. My bed called to me, a
weariness like I'd never known pressing down on me. But sleep
wasn't an option at that point.

I quickly unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it
off along with my cardigan, wincing with each movement.

The bandage on my right arm was thick, the
ash leaves I'd used to mask the smell of blood stuffed beneath the
linen. When I pushed the last layer of cloth aside, I hissed softly
through my teeth as the air hit the open wound.

Three distinct lines ran the length of my arm
between elbow and wrist.

"No! Don't!"

The words barely passed through my lips
before Ty sprang toward me. His weight hit me square in the chest
and it felt like every one of my ribs might snap beneath the
blinding pressure. I hit the ground hard, the rough surface cutting
into my back. He glowered above me, his paws like steel clamps on
my chest as he pressed me down. Saliva dripped from his teeth, so
close and sharp.

Led by some force outside myself, my hand
fumbled for the baton I had hastily stuffed in my pocket. With a
firm grip on the wooden stick, I jabbed him hard in his lower
torso. He roared at the sudden attack and flew backwards off of me,
his claws sinking into my right arm. I screamed as the sudden
ripping pain set my arm on fire.

"I think they're a mark of what I am," Ty had
said about his own wound.

A mark of what we both were now.

I was wrong. I still had plenty of tears
left.

Three days later, I attended Carrie's funeral
with my parents. Things were still tense between us after my abrupt
departure from my aunt's home the previous weekend. Once I erased
all evidence of that night—the voicemails, the scratches on the
door—I returned just in time for my cousin's birth. That smoothed
things over to a point, but they still wanted answers I couldn't
give. During the car ride back to Eddington, we declared an
unspoken truce. I was grateful for their presence more than I could
possibly say.

Standing by Carrie's gravesite, I drew my
coat tight around me. The dark gray skies threatened rain and my
hair flew in the hard wind. It suited my mood and lent to the
somber occasion. Unlike Kim, half the school had shown up to pay
their respects to Carrie. I scoured the throngs of students for Ty,
finally spotting him on the opposite side of the grave. He kept his
eyes down, thwarting my efforts to catch his attention.

He had kept his word. We hadn't spoken since
the day of Carrie's death. I'd called only to be told he was
unavailable. If he happened to answer, he unceremoniously hung-up.
Come hell or high water, apparently he was determined to go through
with his plan.

I had worried over this first meeting.
Worried he would realize what I'd become. Blame himself for yet
another thing he couldn't control. All of it turned out to be
pointless. He hadn't taken notice of me in the church, hadn't
seemed to sense me at all.

Not as I sensed him.

True to how Ty explained his experience, I
didn't change during the three nights following the full moon. And
this morning, the cuts on my arm were gone, the flesh once again
smooth and unblemished. That's when reality sank into my
bones—followed closely by fear.

For despite outward appearances, deep inside
I could feel other changes taking place. Subtle changes. A shift in
perception as my senses sharpened, growing stronger every day. It
felt as though I had lived life in a blur and only now was the
world coming into focus.

I could smell Ty. A slight rangy scent
beneath the smell of rain and decaying leaves.

If I could smell—sense—his presence, he damn
well should have been able to sense mine. He didn't. He would've
been by my side in an instant if he knew. I spent the entire church
service in shocked silence, unable to understand how this could be
happening.

Determined to catch him when he couldn't turn
me away, I started in his direction. A shift in the air made me
pause, confused. Then it hit me.

I knew the minute she approached. A slow
crackle of recognition inched across my skin until every cell in my
body felt electrified with awareness. The hair along the back of my
neck stood rigid, and my fingernails dug reflexively into my palms.
I winced beneath the pain, incapable of fighting the natural
response of my body—the equivalent of a dog's hackles rising as a
threat enters its territory.

She reeked of death and self-satisfaction.
The sour smell of it flooded my senses, and my natural instinct was
to run. I knew she sensed my fear and the putrid stench of her
triumph hit me as she stepped in close to Ty. Only then did she
raise her eyes to mine.

If I managed to hurt her the night of the
full moon, she hid it well. She casually pushed a lock of dark hair
behind her ear and leaned in to whisper something to Ty. All the
while, she kept one hazel eye trained on me, a smile playing on her
lips. He, on the other hand, stared straight ahead, unaware of the
communication transpiring between us.

How could he not sense her presence? How
could he not know what she was? What I was?

The service began, and I felt a tug on the
sleeve of my coat. I reluctantly stepped back to stand beside my
parents. Tears welled in my eyes, my attention focused on Melanie
and Ty.

Melanie.

It wasn't possible.

Betrayal coursed through my veins as I
watched her, the girl I once regarded as a friend—a best
friend.

o0o

As soon as the service ended, I pushed my way
to the other side. Mourners milled around, stepping forward to pay
their respects at the casket, effectively cutting me off time and
time again. When I finally reached the spot where Melanie and Ty
had stood, they were gone.

It didn't take long to locate them again.
They were winding their way around headstones on the far side of
the cemetery. I could see a flash of orange in the distance—Ty's
car was parked on one of the side roads that weaved through the
cemetery. They would be long gone before I caught up with them.

I called out his name, knowing I was making a
spectacle of myself, but too upset to care. Disapproving looks were
thrown in my direction, but I ignored them, yelling louder. Ty
continued his pace, Melanie at his side.

Finally, I gave up, my throat thickening at
the sight of the two of them walking away together. Somewhere along
the way, Melanie had gained his trust, effectively displacing me
from his life. In one fell swoop, I had lost two friends—one to
betrayal, one to...I didn't know what. Was Ty really trying to
protect me, or did the sight of me simply bring too many bad
memories to the surface?

I swept my eyes across those in attendance.
Most of them were now making their way toward parked cars, all of
them looking slightly stunned, some holding on to each other for
comfort. There wasn't a single person that I could turn to. Jenna
and David had been there, but even they were far out of sight, off
to grieve in their own way. My one light of strength was dimming,
and would soon disappear, maybe forever.

I swung around to Ty's retreating back.

"Don't do this to me, Ty. Please." I spoke
the words softly. There was no need to raise my voice—there never
had been.

I could tell by the sudden falter in his
steps that he heard me. He stood with his back to me for the
longest time, but then, to my relief, turned and made his way back
in my direction. Melanie watched him go, but he gestured for her to
continue on without him. She did, occasionally throwing a concerned
look over her shoulder as she trudged her way to his car.

I couldn't help but notice that Ty didn't
look at me as he approached. In fact, he seemed to look anywhere
but, even when we stood mere feet apart, facing each other.

"Thank you for coming back," I opened, dying
a bit inside when even my words couldn't prompt him to look at me.
In the distance, Melanie lingered near the Cutlass. She could hear
us, of course, and I just knew she was hoping that her presence
would keep me in check. Not this time.

"It's Melanie," I said, not daring to allow
even the slightest bit of hesitation or doubt to weaken my tone. He
had to believe me. And he had to believe me now. There was no way I
could let him walk out of there with her.

He did look at me then. Just for the briefest
of moments, our eyes met. Then he jerked his head away in
exasperation. Disbelief. And what cut worse than anything—pity.

"Come on, Mac," he said. "This isn't the time
or place for this."

"But—" I stopped, the meaning behind his
words registering a heartbeat later. Heat flared into my
checks—part anger, part humiliation. "It's Melanie. You have to
believe me."

Ty rocked slightly on his heels, eyes on the
ground. He gave me the impression of a parent trying to figure out
how best to scold a child.

"I'm right about this. You have to believe
me."

His eyes tilted up to mine then. I found
myself pinioned by the accusation I saw in their green depths. He
jerked his chin at Carrie's casket. "Like I believed you about
Carrie?"

His words lashed out at me, and I took a step
back. "What? No. This isn't like that."

"Isn't it?" He stepped closer. "I let you
convince me Carrie was the one. I believed you, and look what
happened. She's dead."

He never raised his voice, but it felt as
though each word pierced my skin. My heart. He blamed me.

Tears pricked my eyes.

"I—" My voice faltered.

He was right. I blamed myself for what
happened, but to hear him voice my deepest fears, my own
condemnations, was something I didn't think I could bear. Not from
Ty.

I dropped my eyes to the ground, the weight
of his accusation too much for me. And that's how we stood for
several minutes, in silence. Me too afraid to look at him lest I
stir up more horrible words, Ty unwilling or unable to comfort
me.

It began to rain then, a light downfall that
wet my already dampened cheeks. I pulled my coat around me, wishing
I could somehow bridge the gap between us and step into Ty's arms.
But for the first time in my life, I didn't think he would welcome
me in.

That thought alone caused my tears to
thicken.

"Don't you see," I choked out. "She's turned
you against me."

Even to me, my words sounded feeble. They
were the words of a desperate person. Someone who would say or do
anything to keep Ty's confidence. I knew how they sounded, but I
couldn't seem to stop myself.

"She's trying to come between us. She—I don't
know. She hates me for some reason. She—God..." Somewhere in the
middle of my outburst, my mind started putting everything into its
proper place. What seemed a jumble of mixed up pieces, slowly began
to take form. "God, Ty," I said, looking at him, pleading with him
to believe me. "Don't you see what this means? She
killed
Kim. Carrie. She attacked me...she...God...she pretended to be my
friend, but the whole time she was setting me up." If I'd had the
slightest reservation about talking within earshot of the girl, it
dissolved as the full impact of my words found their mark.

"She knew the entire time," I spoke low,
almost to myself. "She knew and she toyed with us."

Ty and I both allowed Melanie to lead the
hunt for answers. Had her eagerness to help been a clever way to
hide the fact she was pulling us around by the nose, leading us
away from the truth? Jesus. She had slept by my side during a night
of Ty's cycle. She knew how to keep herself from shifting—probably
knew things we hadn't even begun to puzzle out. My mind reeled with
all this implied.

Ty rubbed a hand along the back of his neck
and glanced in Melanie's direction. She had gotten into the
passenger side of his car, probably when the rain began, and sat
with her head turned away from us. I had to hand it to her. She
feigned ignorance well. I almost believed she couldn't hear us. But
she couldn't fool me. Not now. I could feel the tension radiating
off of her. She, too, wondered if Ty would believe me. And she
wondered how far I would go to make it happen.