Ties to the Blood Moon 2nd Edition

LICENSE NOTES

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to thank the following for their support throughout this project:

To my friends, Author Aaron P. Lazar, Kristin Aragon, Steve DeWinter, and my two daughters, Erica D. Garner, and Alicia D. Page, who put up with my countless nagging emails and helped me in ways I will never forget. Thanks in large part to a wonderful community called Book Bloggers for taking the time to read and review
Ties To The Blood Moon
, and also for the author interviews, guest posts and blog tours.

And special thanks to my awesome editor Kelly Coffey, for working tirelessly to make sure this book could be its best. Thanks to Claudia McKinney-phatpuppyart.com for the beautiful book cover.

Special thanks to you, the readers.

Prologue

Aunt Bev kept telling me it wasn’t my fault. But, if I had waited one more day before leaving to spend spring break with her in Alaska, I would have been home to pull my mother from the burning house. I knew my aunt meant well, but it hadn’t helped with my dreams for the past two weeks. Or should I say nightmares?

As soon as I lay down and closed my eyes, the same scene filled my mind over and over again. Almost like a memory. I was in the woods just outside my house and helplessly watched a huge ferocious dog-like creature circling my house while it burned. At first glance the animal appeared to be red, but as I continued to stare, the color of his fur shifted like dancing flames.

My home was on fire and I looked helplessly on, listening to my mother’s screams coming from somewhere inside. I knew I had to save her, but I was afraid.

“Mom,” I screamed, and started to rush for the house when the beast noticed me and snarled. I froze, unable to move. His yellow eyes glowed as if they reflected the fire behind him and I saw his blood-stained fangs.

I quickly ran away from the house. Away from saving my mother from the hungry flames that consumed her. I glanced to either side as I ran and saw the faint reddish glow of several other dogs through the trees. They had joined the first dog in the pursuit of his prey.

My lungs burned as the woods ignited behind the dogs, forcing me to run faster or be consumed by the same fire that claimed my mother’s life. I skidded to a stop at the edge of a cliff and spun around to face the pack of wild beasts as one by one they emerged from the burning trees and approached me. They appeared to be almost smiling.

I had two choices—each of them a death sentence. I chose the latter and leaped from the cliff. The dogs peered over the edge as I fell away from them. They seemed disappointed with my choice. As they moved away out of sight I looked below and saw the ground rushing up at me.

Right before impact I woke up and realized I was still falling. I hit the hardwood floor beside my bed and cried out.

Chapter 1

Today would be my first day at my new high school. Aunt Bev didn’t know it yet, but she would. Between the nightmares and the long hours of sun I found it hard to sleep at all. Reluctantly, I climbed out from under the four thick quilts that lined my wrought iron bed and went to stand in front of the pine wood closet, staring at all the new clothes Aunt Bev had bought for me. I sighed heavily and dropped my shoulders. My heart ached terribly for my mom, and I needed to get out of the house and away from my aunt. I loved her for everything she was trying to do, but she was beginning to suffocate me.

Determined to get out of the house, I flipped through the rack of new clothes, but ended up choosing a pair of my old jeans, my favorite long sleeve hooded tee-shirt, and my old red converse shoes—all of which my mom had bought me. The only new item I chose was a black parka Aunt Bev had picked out. She’d insisted it was normal wear for all the residents of Haven, Alaska. When I had tried it on at the Haven Mall—that’s code for the only general store within fifty miles—I felt like a bubble wrapped package. And I’m pretty sure I looked like one, too.

After showering, I stared at my reflection. My carrot red curls seemed brighter in the Alaskan light, so did my light blue eyes which made my already pale complexion take on a bluish hue. I brushed my teeth and got dressed, but something was itching the back of my neck. I knew it wasn’t the tag inside my shirt, because it was an old shirt and I always cut the itchy ones out right away. I went back into the bathroom, but when I pulled my hair up, there was nothing there. I shrugged, and plucked the bubble wrap jacket from my bed before going downstairs.

I stopped at the bottom of the steps and gazed through the huge bay windows. Outside reminded me of a Norman Rockwell painting my mother had. Soft rolling hills casually dropping off into a small lake surrounded on three sides by large fir trees reaching for the sky. A low fog hung just above the water like a blanket of soft cotton.

“Gen,” my aunt called, for the gazillionth time since I’d gotten off the plane.

“Yeah—Coming.” I rolled my eyes.

Aunt Bev was just setting a giant stack of pancakes on the table when I pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door. I couldn’t help but notice the subtle muscles in her arm when she extended it to set the plate in front of me. Something else to remind me of my mom. She had always been adamant about working out and keeping fit. She glanced up and smiled. Just then my heart panged because she looked so much like my mom. They both had dark hair, brown eyes and shared the same quirky smile. Even though Aunt Bev was five years older than my mom, she seemed younger for some reason.

We ate in silence. I pushed a fork around my plate trying to get up the nerve to tell her I wanted to go to school. I wanted to go anywhere outside of this house. I felt like a prisoner. My mom hadn’t been near as protective as Bev.

I felt her eyes on me, but I didn’t look up. Finally, I blurted out what was building inside of me. “I want to go to school. It’s senior year, Aunt Bev,” I pleaded.

“I thought we decided you would home school.” She paused, then added. “The weather here can be very unforgiving you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care,” I huffed and jumped from my seat. “I need to be around people.” I raked my plate in the garbage. “Come on, Aunt Bev—I’m seventeen for Christ’s sake.” I started to pace, trying to come up with some kind of rationalization that she wouldn’t be able to argue with. Then it hit me. “Please, Aunt Bev. I think if I was at school every day I wouldn’t think about mom so much.”

Aunt Bev tucked her bangs behind her ear and stood. I watched her face for any kind of telltale sign of what her answer might be. She just stood still like a statue.
Say yes, say yes, say yes,
I kept saying over and over in my mind.

That quirky smile of hers suddenly spread across her face. “Okay, okay,” she said, and laughed lightheartedly.

I screamed with delight and rushed around the table and wrapped her in a hug, lifting her off the floor. I didn’t think about it at the time, but lifting her was as easy as lifting my fork.

***

We pulled in front of the school. “This is it?” The building didn’t look at all like a school. Instead, it reminded me of a large airplane hangar huddled in the middle of a few smaller ones. I was totally relieved to see school had already started and the students were tucked in their classrooms somewhere—hopefully far away from view of the front office.

I exited Aunt Bev’s Jeep and to my surprise I heard the other door shut. I quickly turned to look behind me. Aunt Bev, wrapped up like an Indian papoose, had filed in behind me. I gave her the old, “you’ve got to be joking” look. A bubble-wrapped teenager and her blanket-wrapped aunt—I’ll bet we made the handsome couple.

“What?” she asked, her forehead wrinkled with a frown.

“I can register myself.”

“Like, no—you can’t,” she answered in a teenager’s mocking tone and out came that quirky smile of hers, again. I rolled my eyes and couldn’t help but smile back sarcastically.

“All right,” I huffed, not finding any humor in being treated like a twelve year old. My shoulders slumped.
Another few minutes and I’ll be free … for seven hours anyway.

When we entered the school it looked completely different than I had pictured. There were doors on either side of the hall with lockers in between. Aunt Bev pushed through the glass door marked office and I followed with my head down.

Once inside, we stepped to the long counter that split the office down the middle. It surprised me when the lady behind the counter called Aunt Bev by name. Why would she know her? It wasn’t like Aunt Bev had kids.

She had black hair, a round face, and high cheekbones. She didn’t look like the mental image of an Eskimo I’d always had. I pictured them with animal skin jackets, matching boots, ice hanging off their faces, and living in little igloos. Instead, she wore blue jeans and a neon pink shirt with a picture of a wolf screened on the front—which actually made me immediately feel at home. In my last school everybody over dressed. Even the coach wore designer wind suits.

She and Aunt Bev talked for several minutes, apparently forgetting the reason they had gotten the chance for their visit in the first place.

When they both finally took a breath I saw my cue. “Um … can I get my schedule and go on to class?”

“Oh … uh, of course. Here you go, Genevieve. And here’s a map.” She handed me a piece of paper with four lines and a few boxes on it. I eyed the paper briefly, then stuffed it into my pocket before looking her square in the eye.

“It’s Gen,” I said flatly, then looked over my schedule, told Aunt Bev bye, and hurried out the door.

“I’m free, thank God,” I mumbled under my breath as I strolled down the hall to find my English class. According to the map my first class was all the way at the end of the second hallway, which to my surprise turned out to be a whole lot shorter that what it looked like on the paper.

With my jacket over one arm and my backpack thrown over my shoulder I took a deep breath, which did nothing to slow my climbing heart rate. I entered the room, and all eyes were on me. I thought I might hyperventilate on the spot.

Mr. Donovan was short, bald, and his furrowed eyebrows said he was very perturbed that I had the nerve to show up in the middle of his class. I cleared my throat and handed him the piece of paper from the office. He looked down his nose through his little round glasses and squinted at the piece of paper before handing it back, along with a sheet of assignments.

“Find a seat, Miss Labreck.”

I turned and looked up. The kids had already lost interest, but I still kept my eyes glued to the floor until I reached my desk in the next to last row. After pouring over the essay list, I thought of my old essays at home and thought of my mom. My eyes grew hot with tears.
Not now!
I pretended to have something in my eye, rubbing at it with my fingers.

When the bell rang—actually, it sounded more like a loud, grinding buzzer at the end of a basketball game—I waited until everyone filed out the door before checking my schedule for my next embarrassment. I sensed someone watching me and looked up.