Sweet Moon Dreams

by Rose Marie Wolf

  Her smile faded as Jason shut the engine off and silence reached her ears, but her mind was already far away, more than ten years into the past…

  * * *

  It was perhaps the most memorable summer of Rose’s childhood. It was two weeks before Glen’s twelfth birthday, a week after the death of his parents, and the PRDI had sent them here three days before.

  No one had told them exactly what had happened, just how they had died, and it had left the two children confused and scared. But the PRDI was there for them. They would take care of them now.

  For Rose, the loss of her guardians had hit her a second time in this life. Her parents had been taken from her in a car accident when she was four, and now, a little more than four years later, her aunt and uncle had been taken as well. She didn’t feel much emotion this time. It had happened one too many times and she was numb.

  And she had thought, finally, she had a family to take care of her.

  There was a growing sadness circling around the two children as they sat quietly in the gaming room, not really feeling like playing. Rose was curled up on the window seat, staring out at the dark clouded sky, watching rain drops as they hit the window. Occasionally lightning would strike across the sky and cause her to jump.

  Glen was seated in an armchair, facing the television. Its screen was black and empty, but he continued to stare at it. It had been suggested maybe television would get their mind off things, but neither had made the move to switch it on.

  He was overdue for a haircut, and black wisps fell across his forehead and into his brown eyes. His lips were turned into a frown, and his willowy frame was swallowed up by the massive cushions of the chair. His thin arms were crossed over his chest.

  For Glen, the loss of his parents had been horrible. For the first few days, he was inconsolable. He had torn through the PRDI’s main building, shattering glass and throwing furniture and things. Tears continually streamed down his face.

  They dutifully attended the funerals. Everyone approached them with condolences Rose was sure they didn’t feel. They had expected the kids to cry, to pour their little hearts out, but that didn’t happen.

  Once the truth had sunk in, Glen went strangely silent. He threw no more fits, shed no more tears and said nothing to anyone but Rose, and only then it was hushed whispers about possibilities late at night when everyone else had been asleep.

  And they still didn’t know just why they had died. No one would tell them. Glen felt there was a mystery behind it all. He wanted to know, but their new guardians wouldn’t divulge that information to them.

  One such guardian was Gavin Newark. He was an older man and of the werekin kind, a werewolf, just like them. He was the one who had brought them here, and the one who had shown the most kindness to them. He was a tall man, with brown hair that was only slightly graying at the temples, and always dressed nicely. He had the noticeable were-scent both children were learning to identify and find comfort in.

  And of all the other PRDI associates there, Rose liked him the best.

  Gavin didn’t push them to do things they didn’t want to do. While the others were trying to get them interested in activities and television, Gavin had them back off.

  “Give them time,” he had said to the others. “It’ll take some time before they’re ready to do things. Let them sit around. They’ll soon realize what they’re missing.”

  And Gavin was right. Rose was becoming bored here. Her initial mourning had ended and she was ready to move on with other things. She was sympathetic, however, to her cousin who was not quite ready to begin life all over again.

  A thunderclap sounded loudly overhead and Rose jumped yet again. She turned to regard Glen. The boy no longer stared at the TV. He looked out the window. Rain splattered more on the pane, and Rose followed his stare.

  They were on the second floor, and she could see the sidewalk between the swaying branches of the oak tree in the front lawn. Though Glen did not have the viewpoint she did, somehow he had seen the car approach and stop in front of the building before she had.

  She sat up to get a better view, and Glen moved out of the armchair to stand beside her. His dark eyebrows touched as he thought hard about something. He stared down at the car.

  The car was unrecognizable, black and fancy looking. Perhaps it was another PRDI member, come to stay here or to teach them. Or maybe it was someone with some news about the untimely deaths of Glen’s parents.

  A surge of hope washed through the young girl’s entire body, and she spoke softly.

  “Who is it?”

  Glen merely shook his head and watched as the car door opened. A figure stepped out, and stumbled up the curb. Glen moved closer to the window, his face almost pressed against the glass. His breath made fog against the cold pane.

  Rose broke her gaze from the person below to briefly glance at her cousin. When she turned her gaze back, the person was making their way slowly to the front door. Rose, like Glen, furrowed her eyebrows and moved closer to the glass.

  The person, a man, was moving funny. Rose blinked a few times.

  “Something’s wrong,” Glen suddenly said. He looked down at her.

  “What is it?” she asked. He was using a tone that scared her. She licked her lips.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  Before she had a chance to react, Glen pulled himself from the window and ran out of the room. He paused only to throw open the heavy door. His footfalls echoed as he ran down the hall toward the stairs.

  “Glen! Wait!” Rose called after him and scrambled to her feet. She started after him. Her sandals slapped against the hardwood floor loudly. She soon caught up with him.

  Glen crouched at the top of the stairs and peered through the banister spokes. The front door was open. The sound of the rainfall echoed loudly in the spacious front hall. Water had formed a dark puddle on the floor.

  Rose held her breath as she crouched down beside him. Her small hands held onto the bars, and she pressed her face between them. She watched closely.

  Gavin was at the door. He ushered the man inside. Rose had learned to distinguish many different scents here. Gavin’s werewolf scent, the scent of the humans and the everyday scents of the safe house, but there were new scents that lingered in the air, and she didn’t know what they could be.

  Rose pressed her face closer. Glen now lay prone on the floor, flat on his stomach so he could peer down at them better. She tried to figure out just what the smell was.

  “Do you smell that?” she whispered.

  Glen was silent for a moment. Both blessed with preternatural hearing, they tried to listen in, but as of yet heard nothing said. Gavin supported the man with an arm around his waist. More water dripped on the floor.

  “I think its blood…” Glen answered in a scared voice. Rose swallowed a hard lump in her throat. It wasn’t water that dripped onto the floor and formed a puddle. It was blood. The man was injured.

  “That’s why he was walking funny…” She breathed. “But that’s not what I meant…” She wanted to remove herself from her spot and slink back to her room, but found herself plastered there, staring. Her cousin didn’t answer. His eyes were wide.

  Gavin turned and regarded them on the second floor. His gaze indicated he had known all along they were lingering on the top of the staircase. He didn’t address them just yet. Instead, his eyes turned elsewhere, seeking assistance.

  “Someone help!” Gavin’s voice boomed through the place. It sent shivers down Rose’s spine. Glen’s knuckles had turned white where he gripped the bars.

  Rose sniffed the air again. She knew now that the scent was blood, but what was the other scent? She licked her lips again and adjusted her position, sitting back on her haunches. Her dark bangs were a little too long and stung when they touched her eyes. Annoyed, Rose brushed them aside.

  The scent reminded her of their kind. It was a kind of musky scent. Often, she imagined she could feel the scent,
and this scent was warm, like hers, and like Glen’s. Just like Gavin’s scent, and like her aunt and uncle’s, it comforted her and reminded her they were not always truly alone.

  But it was too faint. It wasn’t strong like she had grown used to. Maybe she had mistaken it.

  A groan sounded from below them, and the man collapsed against Gavin. More blood pooled beneath him. By now a couple of other people had arrived and eased the injured man away from Gavin. With a combined effort, the young man was taken into one of the first floor bedrooms.

  Gavin remained in the hall. He stared down at his hands at first, then at the floor. He wiped the blood stains from his hands onto his pants and drew his gaze up. For a long while he simply stared at the two children as they watched from the top of the stairs.

  It was Glen who stood and moved to the staircase to descend.

  “What’s going on, Mr. Newark?”

  “Nothing you should be concerned with as of yet.” Gavin sighed. He wiped his hands once more on his now ruined suit and started to step away from the door.

  “Just stay where you are,” he warned as he disappeared down the hall and into the room where they had taken the injured man.

  At the top of the steps, Glen and Rose exchanged significant looks. In an instant, both children raced down the stairs. They skidded past the pool of blood in the hall and stopped just outside the door.

  Glen got there first and pressed his ear to the door. Rose shoved her way beneath him to get at the door.

  “Watch it,” he whispered to her, but they both fell silent as they listened.

  Gavin’s voice was the loudest. “What happened?”

  There was a sickening wet cough that sounded next, and Rose could imagine it was blood caught in the man’s throat. She felt sick suddenly, but her curiosity held her there.

  There was a sound of a woman whispering, but neither could hear what was said. The man choked out the words.

  “Hunters…three of them…took me off guard…wasn’t ready…” There was another loud cough and Rose closed her eyes. “I didn’t know where else to go…”

  “You came to the right place. Just hang on.” Gavin spoke. “Let us look at the wounds…”

  “No!” the man screamed. There was a slight growl to his voice. “No, it hurts…”

  “Just calm down.” Gavin’s voice had taken on a soothing quality. There was a sudden crash, as if something had been thrown onto the floor and Rose jumped within her skin. Her ear remained fastened to the door.

  “No!” the man yelled again, the growl more evident and scary.

  “Calm down!” Gavin’s soothing tones had not worked and he had developed a more stern quality. He continued in a hushed whisper. “There are children here, and we don’t want them exposed to this…”

  Someone laughed suddenly. Rose felt cold at hearing it.

  “They’re already exposed! All of us, all of you are exposed…they’re gonna kill us…just give it time…they’re…gonna…” The man’s heated voice fell quiet.

  “We’re losing him,” the female from before said. “The bullets hit too many vital organs. He’s not healing quickly enough.”

  Gavin cursed and then was silent for a moment. After a while, he spoke. “Of course not. He’s only a half-blood.” There was a sadness Rose had never heard in his voice before.

  Footsteps reached the door, and both kids tried to scramble away, but it was too late. They tripped over one another and hit the floor.

  The door opened and Gavin stood. He stared at the two sprawled before him. Rose caught a glimpse of the man inside the room. His clothing was blood drenched. His shirt had been ripped away, and blood was still pooling from the many wounds in his chest. The door closed before Rose could get a closer look, and she was glad it had. She felt very sick now.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Newark,” Glen apologized. He was on his feet now, having grabbed Rose and pulled her up with him. “We only wanted to know what was going on…”

  They both expected Gavin to yell at them, but his eyes showed no fury. Instead, he regarded the children with a pitiful gaze. The blood scent was strong around him, and it stained his nice suit. He didn’t seem to notice, or care. He gave a bit of a frown as he spoke.

  “I know, Glen. I didn’t expect you to stay there on the staircase.” There was a pause and he looked over his shoulder as the other two PRDI associates left the room. Rose recognized one of them as Anna, an older human woman who always wore a smile, but now, her smile was replaced with a worried look. Again, they only caught a glimpse of what was inside, but the man’s body had been covered with a sheet that was slowly beginning to soak up blood from the wounds.

  “He’s gone, Gavin,” Anna said softly. Gavin nodded, and she walked away. The blood scent followed her. When Gavin looked back to the children, his face still held the serious look. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders and steered them away from the room.

  “We need to have a long talk about a few things…things we wanted to protect you from, but it seems…in light of…new events…it seems necessary.”

  There was silence as Glen and Rose exchanged nervous glances and continued down the long corridor. An ancient sword and weapon collection lined the walls on either side of them, and Rose found herself staring at them as she tried to get her mind off of things.

  What had happened to that man? What were hunters? What was going to happen? So many unanswered questions plagued her young mind.

  And when the questions were answered, Rose and Glen had their first lessons in werekin and werewolf hostility.

  * * *

  That was the night Gavin Newark taught Rose Sullivan and Glen Cole about hunters and the hostility they would one day most likely face. It was depressing news for children so young, children whose family had just been brutally murdered by hunters.

  It was also the first time half-bloods had been mentioned to Rose. Never had it crossed her young mind that there were others who were half-human and half-wolf, so like her and yet not. They shared the same hostility.

  To the full-blooded werewolf, a half-blood was easily distinguished. They possessed a scent on a lesser degree than a full-blood, but stronger than that of a human. They could heal faster than a human, in fact, they could see, smell and hear better too. They could change form, with practice and a lot more pain than full-bloods, to that of a wolf.

  There were other disadvantages to being a half-blood, as the children came to soon understand. They were unable to detect other half-bloods. Full-bloods were no problem, as their scent was so strong, but a half-blood, where the blood was half-wolf or less, was a little more difficult to distinguish. And even with some full-bloods the scent was off, but it was the best indication of the werekin the PRDI and their kind had come across yet, and it worked so far.

  The young man who had died so many years ago had been a half-blood. Rose had encountered only a few half-bloods in her lifetime since then, and one such was seated on the motorcycle ahead of her.

  Jason never spoke of it to anyone. He knew he was less than full-blood and made up his lack of strengths with determination and stubbornness, considering himself no less a werewolf than Rose, or Glen, or any other full-blood out there. It was just something he didn’t divulge to others, unless it was necessary.

  Rose was first to climb off the bike and begin her approach of the building. Before she reached the front door, it opened and a very familiar figure emerged. Glen stood in the doorway, clad in a black T-shirt and blue jeans. A wide grin spread over his face.

  “Rose!” he called, and Jason couldn’t help but smile at the reunion as Rose practically leapt into her cousin’s arms.

  “Glen. Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!” She hugged him tightly. She dangled a few inches from the ground in the powerful embrace from her cousin.

  Glen’s black hair had grown more since the last time they had seen him, and little ringlets of it fell nearly to his shoulders. His goatee was neatly trimmed and surrounded his b
oyish grin perfectly. It had been a long time since they had seen each other last, and he hardly looked like he had just turned twenty-nine.

  “I know. I’m glad you got here safe. Have any more problems?” His brown eyes softened as he released Rose and looked down at her from his tall height.

  She gave a shake of her head, unable to hide a genuine smile of happiness on her face. “Not really, no.”

  Jason reached the two and he extended a hand formally to Glen. “Hey, man. Good to see you again,” he said, stiffly.

  Glen raised an eyebrow and cast a glance at Rose, who was trying not to laugh.

  “Is this guy for real?” Glen asked. Before Jason could react, Glen had given him a one armed hug. “We’re practically family, man. Cut out the serious shit for once.”

  “Jason’s been under a lot of stress lately. In fact, we both have,” Rose explained. She looked up at Glen. “Thanks for helping us, Glen.”

  Glen gave something like a shrug. “Hey, don’t mention it. Would I miss the opportunity to hang out with my favorite cousin?”

  “You mean your only cousin,” Rose shot back, jokingly.

  “That too.” Glen smiled. He turned back to glance over his shoulder at the doorway. “Oh, there’s someone else here that wants to say hello.”

  Before Rose could ask who, another familiar male figure stepped out from the doorway. His hair held considerably more grey in it now, and there were more lines on his face, but those were the same kind green eyes that had taught her during her childhood.

  “Mr. Newark!” Rose shrieked. She wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him as well. Gavin chuckled.

  “You certainly sprouted. I haven’t seen you in years!” he answered when they had pulled back. “I’ve kept track of you through your novels though. It’s really good to see you again. Just wish it could’ve been under better circumstances.” His face had a grave demeanor all of a sudden.

  Gavin finally turned his gaze upon Jason and gave him a professional smile. He extended his hand.