MoonFall: A Paranormal Werewolf and Urban Fantasy of Suspense (Supernatural Siblings Series Book 2)

by Drew VanDyke

  Will decided to take a day of R&R, so after a leisurely morning together in the main house, breakfast in bed – don’t tell Amber, she’s anal about stuff like that – and a nap in the afternoon, we went out with his mother that night to meet the man she’d been dating.

  At first glance, Mr. Constantine Shelby seemed enchanting. Not a tall man, still he had an old-school gravitas and charm you just don’t see too often nowadays. He reminded me of the leading man from some old black-and-white classic movie, like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck, or maybe a young David Niven. Black hair with a touch of gray at the temples enhanced the impression, as did fair skin that glowed in the subdued lighting of the restaurant.

  He met us at the Boxcar and had a table reserved in the nicest section. It was at the far end of the caboose and set up on a dais, and depending on where you sat, you either had a view of the whole restaurant or a quick getaway to the smoking section, an outside patio. I experienced déjà vu and hoped to God I didn’t know any of the servers. I’d worked there for a while during high school.

  Foul-mouthed Sid no longer worked in the kitchen – I checked – so I didn’t have to worry about him spitting in my food or coming out to make embarrassing comments in front of the rest of Knightsbridge’s finest. “Love me, or hate me,” he would say, “but you damn sure won’t ignore me.” That was his highest aspiration I guess: to be noticed. Pathetic.

  The hostess seated us and passed out menus, pertly delivering the specials of the evening, and then the bar waitress came by to take drink orders. Poor Will, he tried to make me laugh by ordering a Chelada. I’d jokingly told him when we visited San Fran that it was the go-to drink for the discerning bisexual man. He kept ordering it just to make me laugh, because if you knew Will, you would know that being attracted to another guy just wasn’t in the realm of possibility.

  “Call me Con,” Shelby said, so we did. It appeared he knew just about everybody who was anybody in town. The mayor came by and inquired about the magic-and-antiques shop Con ran, made a comment to Will about how he heard good things about the landscape business and told me that he was sorely missing his city attorney, but was finally happy that she was using up all of the rollover vacation days he’d given her. And he did say he heard a rumor that they might be returning early, even as soon as next week.

  Holy Shit, I thought. I need to start cleaning for my twin sister’s return.

  “Ashlee,” Will whispered and I came back to myself. “You in there?”

  “Sorry, wool-gathering.”

  Con charmed everyone around him with witty banter and fierce repartee, as if he were a movie character with perfectly written lines. Will’s mom tittered and held onto his arm like a teenager, which was, you know, ew. People ought to act their age. I guess her medical issues had been handled, though, which was a blessing.

  Within Con’s presence, people seemed to glow with an infectious vitality, as if they were better people to be near him. Except me. He gave me a sinus headache and made my inner bitch put her paws over her eyes. To me, it felt fake, yet no one else seemed to notice.

  “Good to see you again, William.” Con flashed him that million-dollar smile and Will’s eyes glazed over, kind of like when he had been mesmerized by Sierra, I thought, and then the man turned to me. “And Ashlee. You know, I met Amber about a month ago when she was shopping with John Robert.”

  My wolf whined and the pain in my head made me bitchy. “Oh, you’re the guy that convinced Amber to get JR to take up ventriloquism. Thanks for that by the way. Now we have to listen to the kid’s uncensored inner monologue disguised as smartass dialogue from the mouth of a dummy. I saw the movie Magic, and that doll you gave him is just as creepy.”

  “That smartass dialogue just may make him famous someday.” Shelby oozed charm toward me and I sneezed.

  “Other than Jeff Dunham, no ventriloquist I know even makes a living.”

  Con smiled. “One is enough. I think JR might be the next.”

  “Yeah, well we like the kid the way he is, er, was. Whatever.” My allergies were kicking up and I felt like I’d walked through a patch of ragweed. I put my hand on Will’s arm and excused myself before I had an asthma attack, speeding out the nearest exit onto the terrace.

  Will followed. Fortunately no one was smoking out there at the time. “You okay, Ash?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I must be allergic to something in there. All of a sudden it was like I couldn’t breathe.” I grabbed for my inhaler, and then realized I didn’t have asthma; that was Amber. What the hell was going on with me?

  After my breathing calmed, Will asked, “Do you want to try going back in again?”

  “What I want is a clove.” I grabbed one from the purse I’d slung over my shoulder. Lighting up, I took a deep drag and made as if to pass it to Will.

  “Naw, I’m good. Hey…Um. Have you thought about those vape things? I wonder if you could get one that tasted like cloves.”

  “It would probably be better for me,” I said, voicing the thoughts I knew he was having. “I’m considering it,” I lied. At least, right now I was lying. Hell, I was lying all the time to Will, what with the pack situation threatening to take over my life. I felt like such a schmuck.

  We didn’t speak for a while. Thank God for a man who doesn’t have to fill silence with words. With Will and me, it was easy that way.

  “Hey, isn’t that your brother?” Will asked as I stared into space, elbows on the rail.

  “What? Where?” I looked around, not seeing anybody I recognized as family. “Adam’s in Vegas and I don’t think he’s coming here before he heads to the cabin.”

  “No, not Adam,” Will commented. “Whelan.”

  “Whelan?” Just the name made me nervous. You see, Whelan wasn’t actually a brother, but a blood cousin that had come to live with us when we were little. Dad and Mom made us call him brother, but he never fit in. He was seven years older and a bully, which was a bad combination when we were kids. As a younger boy, Adam caught the worst of it, probably, but Whelan had scared Amber and me both.

  Even now, he scared us. When he showed up every month or three, he usually wanted money and you never knew if it was for drugs or what, and since he was a habitual liar – my Dad once said that Whelan would lie when there was no reason to at all – well, you never could tell whether or not you were helping him or enabling him by giving him something.

  Not that I had much to give, but since I wasn’t going to a church right now, giving to those who asked of me was my way of tithing to the universe. Ever since I was a kid, I kept an envelope full of singles in my purse for panhandlers. I don’t really know why; maybe to stave off the guilt. Funny, how we think more about the consequences of helping a family member than we do a stranger. Wonder what that’s about?

  Regardless, it made the thought of seeing him really awkward. “Yeah,” Will said, pointing across the road. “He was there just a minute ago.”

  “You know, I haven’t seen Whelan since the last time he got out of rehab.”

  “Yeah, well, if he’s out, you may want to keep the blinds drawn at the house, or stay with me.”

  “I can’t do that. What if he breaks in to Amber’s when I’m gone and steals all her stuff?”

  “Better that than he breaks in when you’re all alone. Besides, she’s got a monitored alarm for when it’s empty. Elle’s the city attorney, so I bet they get good police response.” Will took the clove out of my mouth and dropped it to the deck, grinding it out with his shitkicker.

  I started to complain, but he beat me to it. “You were done with that weren’t you?”

  “Guess I was.”

  The half-a-clove seemed to do the trick and I was able to get through dinner without another episode. But Con-man just seemed too perfect, you know. Like an actor who’s played this part so many times he could phone it in. Or like the retired magician he claimed to be, a master at misdirection. As much as he entertained us, he still didn’t feel fully present. Oh, he was ve
rbally present, like he followed the conversation, even if he seemed to be constantly thinking of something to say next. And he acted nice enough. But I had a feeling.

  As Will and I left, I said, “Glad that’s over.”

  He shot me a surprised glance. “It was just allergies.”

  “No, I mean Con. The whole thing felt like a performance.”

  “I like him. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, I have. More than you can count in the City. Posers, people trying too hard, has-beens, wannabees…”

  “I didn’t get that impression at all. Why are you trying to piss on my parade?” Will seemed genuinely irritated at my take on the situation.

  “Never mind. Forget it. I’m just tired. Take me home, please.”

  “Yours or mine?”

  “Mine. I feel like shit. I need to shower to get the allergens out of my hair and off my skin, and then a double Nyquil will knock me out. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

  Will mock-pouted a bit. I couldn’t help but feel there was a little bit of genuine annoyance, but hell, I couldn’t control my allergies, and I couldn’t help the bad impression his mom’s new beau gave me. I guess I didn’t have to be so negative, but I was far from my best right now and it was that time of the month.

  Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

  The next few days we went back at it on the pool house. I continued to help as I could, especially since Will was mostly absent recently and when he was around, he seemed moody. We’d installed rebar in some of the retaining walls, shoring up the basement, set up a kennel in the corner, fortified like a cage, with eyebolts to attach chains, just in case. The rest of the team was tunneling out under the back fence to the edge of the hill, so I would have a duck blind entrance in and out of the property, in whatever form.

  Sierra and Dex, Geoff and Darla were working on the tunnel itself while Jackson, Twyla, Neal, and Sully built the duck blind. We managed to keep Will out of the basement when he was in the mood to help; Jackson had him doing detail work on the cabinetry.

  Today, Will and his mother Peg were soaking up the rays by the pool. They both looked way too pale. The sun would do them good.

  “Do either of you want anything to eat or drink?” I asked in Amber’s I’m not making a suggestion tone that she uses to mind-roll the rest of us. Surprisingly, it worked.

  Peg was a thin woman, and though she had strength of spirit, she appeared incredibly fragile in comparison, which brought out the caretaker in me. “I’ll help you make something in the kitchen. Put these old bones to use.” She rose gracefully from the chaise to wrap a white swim robe on over her blue aquatic one-piece.

  She reminded me of the actress Joan Allen, only with auburn hair like my mom’s. Speaking of which, I hadn’t seen my mother lately. Maybe she was up in Yosemite with Amber and the others.

  We padded into the kitchen and raided Amber’s stainless steel monstrosity that she calls a refrigerator. One thing you can always expect to be available at the Gordon-Scotts is sandwich fixings and we availed ourselves of these without qualm.

  I knew I should be writing down things to replace on a grocery list, but I just couldn’t be bothered. I know, it’s one of my less attractive quirks. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just my sister has such an exactness about how she runs the ship that is her family that I always feel as if no matter how well I perform, I can never measure up to her standards, so why try.

  Thank God she’d learned to turn a blind eye to the guest bedroom when I was here, but there was no way she was going to overlook the holes in her pantry. God, I dreaded the inevitable scene on that one. Maybe I should blame it on the guests and the contractors.

  “What are you thinking?” Peg asked as she busied herself slicing tomatoes and grating cheese. It appeared as if we were making some kind of turkey salad, with walnuts, cran-raisins and apples. I followed along, dragging out the French rolls, light mayo and Dijon mustard. I sighed. Amber swears that light mayo is an acquired taste, but I don’t get it. It might as well be Miracle Whip, which ain’t mayo. And the girl doesn’t even stock alfalfa sprouts!

  “Sorry, Peg. Brain fart. I’m thinking about how much work I have to do just to pass muster when Amber gets back, which if the mayor is right, could be as soon as next week. Even if I do the best I can, I know that I’ll still miss something.” Then I switched gears toward a safer topic than my judgmental attitude about my sister’s choice in condiments. “So, tell me about Shelby.”

  “Oh. Con. Isn’t he wonderful? Such a kind man. He’d make a great grandfather.”

  “Grandfather to whom?” Yes, I said whom. I couldn’t help it. I’m a writer.

  “To Will’s kids. You know, and yours.”

  “Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” I said, forcing myself to use a casual tone. Mothers. Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.

  “I suppose…but I have hopes. After all, since Will’s father died, I’ve been quite lonely…and he is such a nice man.” She’d misunderstood, apparently thinking I’d been talking about her and him rather than Will and me.

  “Okay.” I snorted. Were-pig again; that’s me.

  “What?” She turned to me and gave me a teary-eyed smile and I hugged her.

  “Oh, Mrs. S. Sometimes you are the most adorable thing. Now me? I’d make a terrible mother, but I’m a great aunt. Well, not a great-aunt, but a great, space, aunt, period. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

  “You might surprise yourself. Look at the lovely lunch you just made. Part of being a mother is taking care of others, and in my opinion what you just did there is a very good job.”

  “Then you’ll make a great mom-in-law,” I said, humoring her. There was no upside in arguing with her either way, because I simply didn’t know how things would work out between Will and me. If they did, my objecting would seem stupid. If not, it would hardly matter.

  “I hope I will,” she said, a wistful tear coming into her eye. “I’d love more grandkids.”

  I wonder what she would think about grand-puppies.

  “Don’t speak too soon,” Will said lightly, coming into the kitchen. “You’ve never seen Ashlee’s bitchy side.” He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek.

  Peg promptly grabbed a dishrag and turned it into a whip like we used to do in the girls locker room, flicking it at Will as he grabbed a sandwich off the plate. “Speak for yourself, young man. Neither of us girls has a bitchy side.”

  Her cell phone rang. She looked at the display, and then put it down.

  “It’s Con, Mom. Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  “Not right now, dear.”

  “What’s the matter? Trouble in paradise?” I asked, and then bit my lip as I realized how insensitive that could sound, especially if there was.

  “No, not really. It’s just…I need a bit of breathing room. I enjoy his company, but I tell you, he’s so solicitous that I question whether or not underneath it all, he’s really just needy. I mean, you know how boys can be.”

  “I gotta tell you both that I have a feeling I am going to be really offended if I stay and listen to this female-chauvinist conversation, so I think I’ll go butch it up with the gay construction workers. Oh, and we might as well feed them too while they’re at it. Can’t have hungry bears putting in drywall.” Will left with the sandwich tray.

  “Hey, that was…”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Peg said, grabbing me before I could chase him down. “We’ll make more.”

  I sighed. How was I going to replace everything? Maybe I could hit Will up for a few bucks. He had his own business, and he had grabbed the tray…

  “He’s really trying, you know,” Peg went on. “He’s not used to all these…city people.”

  For sure, she meant something else there. I mean, Jackson and Sully weren’t exactly discreet about their relationship, and with the outsiders’ eyes of Peg’s generation, the
pack probably looked like the modern businesslike version of a free-love commune.

  “He’ll have to get used to it if we stay together.”

  “I’m sure he will. He’s young and flexible. The world’s changing so fast, though…that’s why I like Con, I think. He’s a throwback to a more civil era, even more so than other men my age.”

  “Oh, you mean like the era where ‘colored people’ had to use different restrooms? Or the one where women were always the secretaries, never the executives?” My question came out with a little too much bile, and hurt blossomed in Peg’s eyes. “I’m sorry, that was unfair. It’s just, when people talk about the good old days, they only remember the good things.”

  “Isn’t that what you did when you saw our house – the house you grew up in – for the first time in ten years? I know your childhood wasn’t perfect.”

  “You can say that again.” Between Dad’s pharisaical attitude, Mom’s flightiness and Whelan’s bullying, it was amazing we turned out as sane as we did.

  “I rest my case. Don’t blame me for wanting to relive a bit of my own youth, Ashlee.” She reached out to rest a hand on my cheek. “It fades so fast. Enjoy it while you can.”

  I turned away, and my own mother’s voice whispered in my ear. “Will likes seeing the world through your eyes, dear.” I smiled involuntarily, catching the scent of Jean Nate as her voice wafted by like a breeze.

  “Well, I may want to have a come-to-Jesus with him about trying too hard,” I murmured, watching as he carried the sandwich tray around like a waiter. “At least he’s not taking drink orders.”

  I spoke too soon, as he set down the empty platter and bolted for the cooler.

  “May I ask you a personal question?” Peg remarked as we assembled new sandwiches.

  “Sure, um, I think.”

  “Well.” She hemmed and hawed a moment. “In your opinion, how long do you think it should take a man to make a move on you in this day and age?”