Bright Moon

by Andria Canayo

  She felt childish waking from a nightmare and expecting comfort. Tyson studied her and squinted.

  “Mark called you baby, were you romantically involved with him?”

  “No!” she gasped, shaken at the sudden change of topic. “Our relationship wasn’t anything like that.”

  “What sort of relationship did you have?”

  “He’s…he was my boss.”

  Tyson’s jaw clenched and he leaned forward. “You said relationship, which implies something more. Were you in love with him?”

  “Of course not! He was…”

  “Yes?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know if I can explain this correctly.”

  “I’m not as dense as you think.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she waved his temper off. “It’s hard to explain unless you know a little of my history, even then it’s hard to define.”

  “Callan told me about your mom, I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere.

  “Thank you.” She pushed her hair back with her fingers and hoped she didn’t look a mess. She also hoped Tyson would forget his original question and let her hide away in the bathroom.

  “You haven’t explained about Mark, I need to know.”

  “I don’t want to admit it, but if it’s that important I will. Mark was the only person who went out of his way to be nice to me. It’s cruelly ironic now, but his kindness is what kept me sane everyday.”

  Tyson’s lips parted and his face drew in a slight scowl. A thick silence blanketed the hotel room. Presently he broke it after a brief struggle of emotion. “You weren’t in love with him?”

  “No, I was under the assumption he was my friend.”

  “I wonder how he got so close to you without my noticing. He must have chosen the dog shelter to throw off his scent.”

  “What do you mean?” She gave up the hope of temporarily escaping and plopped onto the bed. “How would you notice when we’d never met?”

  “I knew who you were before I met you. Parker has been known to threaten families of werewolves and I wanted to be sure he didn’t involve you or your father.”

  “You watched us?”

  “A little, yes.”

  The thought was disturbing, especially when she wasn’t sure what exactly he knew. She lowered her eyes. “Oh.”

  “I know it’s creepy,” he said apologetically.

  “How long were you watching?” she asked without looking up.

  “Long enough to know Mesha told the truth when she said you carry pain,” he murmured.

  Clara’s emerald eyes flashed to him, but she shifted her attention quickly and picked at the hem of her pant leg. Another awkward silence engulfed them until she found her voice. “You never saw me go to work? Mark has been my boss for a year.”

  “He must have had this planned even before Callan was infected. I don’t know how it’s possible, but he knew where I was and knew how to avoid me.”

  “You were ill the night our lives crashed together. Mesha told me how hard it is to stay in your human form while the moon is full.”

  He nodded and shifted his weight. “I couldn’t let myself lose control, I was afraid you would die of shock.”

  “I probably would have.” She tried, unsuccessfully, to imagine what it would be like to see a person change to a monstrously huge wolf. Tyson laughed shortly. “What?” she asked when she noted his disbelieving expression.

  “Mortals have been thrown into our world before, but I’ve never seen someone stare a werewolf down for the first time without at least trying to run. When you saw Mark and me fighting, you came to us. When you saw I was the wolf you didn’t try to run.”

  “I wasn’t well, I fainted. Remember?”

  “I know why you fainted and it wasn’t because of what you saw, it was because of the physical trauma you’d endured. I saw your face, you weren’t scared.”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of individual I should be afraid of,” Clara mumbled.

  Tyson’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

  She shrugged.

  “I think that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  “Why wasn’t Mark so ill?” she asked quickly.

  “He wore silver,” Tyson answered simply.

  Clara wanted to laugh. “Of course. If it’s that simple, why weren’t you wearing silver?”

  “Silver weakens us to a mortal’s strength and leaves us vulnerable. The effects are even worse when we are in our wolf forms, but if worn on our human bodies, it keeps us from transforming. Mark can wear it because Parker protects him. If I wore it, I would be left with no strength to defend myself and Parker could easily have me killed.”

  “He kills werewolves?” Clara asked, mortified.

  “His family has passed traditions down for generations. They killed us for religious reasons at first, but they found out too much and became greedy. Now he hunts werewolves because he’s searching for the cure.”

  “The cure?” Clara asked. “There’s a cure for werewolves?”

  “There isn’t one now, but there’s supposed to be…eventually.”

  He was uncommonly nervous as Clara waited for him to explain. When he didn’t offer the information freely she pushed for the answer. “What is it?”

  “I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to tell you about the first werewolf before I can explain further. There weren’t always people like me around, at least not in this form. Many, many years ago, a man named Jothram was the first. He was a member of an elite group of men and women who were entrusted with the safekeeping of a dwindling race. He did not fully belong to the race, but their spirits were gentle and they accepted him as they would their own. His strength made him an opportune candidate for knighthood, so to speak—”

  “Knighthood?” she repeated the word in shocked inquisitiveness. “You mean to say this happened in medieval times?”

  He squinted thoughtfully and shook his head. “Jothram comes from a land unaffected by time. The people he became a part of were…special…different. They were not fond of violence, but violence was thrust upon them as it often is in such cases. Monsters sought treasures they were willing to sacrifice their lives for.”

  “Monsters?” she gasped. “You mean like dragons?”

  “No,” Tyson shook his head. “Just foul folk. This was in a time when power was not completely lost to the lives of men, when things were a bit…well, unusual. To keep their treasure safe, the gentle spirited people used their rare magic to anoint the strongest of their knights. The magic allowed them to take on the shapes of creatures of the woods and mountains. Not all were wolves, some were mighty eagles and others bears, some even took the shape of stags or owls. They did such to better protect their people and their lands.”

  “And their treasure,” Clara added.

  “Of course,” Tyson agreed with a nod and small smile. “This must sound fanciful to you.”

  “It sounds…magical,” she admitted.

  “Magic is what doomed Jothram. He did everything required of him to become a knight of the gentle spirited people and was given the blessing of their beautiful queen who had a silver brow. He was anointed with four others for a special mission, but he received the curse.”

  “They cursed him?”

  “Certainly not! It wasn’t their magic, and he wasn’t aware of what happened until later. The dark forces that sought the hidden treasure plotted a way to gain entry. They knew the fair people were also a strong people. For years they tried, time and again, to breech the mighty fortress. Time and again they failed until they realized they would never gain access unless it was from inside. Unfortunately for them, the gentle race was one that could not be bribed, or corrupted. Their queen was wise and powerful and her warriors loyal. The monsters that bred darkness in the land decided to create a weakness conjured by their own hand. They knew of the anointing of the knights for the special mission and spied out the time of the ceremony. Every ounce of their darkest magic was used
to thwart one single sanction and Jothram’s blessing was tainted.”

  “Didn’t the gentle people know their magic was tainted?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

  “If only they had! Jothram became a monster and the spell was irreversible. The good queen used her powers to appease the beast within and promised redemption would come, but at a great price. The promise only added to his curse, because it was said that the woman he would one day love would be the cure.” Tyson paused and leapt off the table in a liquid motion.

  “How can a woman be a cure?” she asked, watching as he went to the window. She could see his reflection in the glass as he studied the goings on below.

  “Not the woman, her blood.”

  “How horrid! She would be killed!”

  “Not necessarily,” he said without turning around. “It’s a gruesome idea nonetheless, especially when you consider she would have to be infected before the cure could take effect.”

  “If she is the cure then who would cure her?”

  He faced her again, going to sit on the end of the bed. “She wouldn’t need anyone to heal her. She doesn’t have a wolf form after becoming infected.”

  “This man, Parker, wants the cure to stop the spread of werewolves? I thought you said he became greedy?”

  “He doesn’t want the blood to cure anything. When a mortal drinks her blood on the night of a new moon, they become immortal without the curse of the monster.”

  Her fingers went numb. “Immortality?”

  “You can imagine how such a priceless promise would entice someone.”

  “Obviously, but what does that have to do with me? You said Parker sent to those dogs to infect me.” She pointed a finger to her chest.

  “He did.”

  “Why?”

  “He thinks you are the cure.”

  Words failed as her mind went blank. She stared at Tyson in wide eyed shock. “He can’t believe that!” she finally exclaimed. “I’ve never met a man named Jothram.”

  “Parker is delusional and I don’t know how he found out about you, but I fear he’s right. You are correct, you’ve never met Jothram, although he doesn’t go by that name any longer. He hasn’t been seen since he went into hiding, but the way you’ve bonded with Mesha has made me wonder if there isn’t a grain of truth to what Parker believes. Either way it doesn’t matter. If he believes you are then you’re in danger. He’ll stop at nothing to have you.”

  Already drained because of information overload, she couldn’t respond. She drew her knees to her chest and let her head fall to them as her mind worked to retain the shocking new information. She felt him move off the bed to stand.

  “I’m sorry about everything, I wouldn’t choose this for any person.”

  “It’s shocking,” she mumbled from her knees. “I am sorry about your house, but I am glad to have found Callan.”

  “Don’t worry about my house. As for Callan, he missed you,” he said.

  Not enough, she thought.

  He returned to scanning the surrounding streets in effort to give her some space. Everything jumbled in her mind until she came from the shock long enough to finally lock herself in the bathroom, afraid she’d be ill. She took another long, steaming shower. When she emerged, Mesha sat at the table once more. She almost didn’t recognize her because her dark brown hair had been cut short.

  “Mesha!” she said in surprise. “Your hair!”

  “I know,” Mesha hung her head. “It’s horrible.”

  “I don’t think so, you look cute!”

  “My appearance resembles that of a boy,” Mesha muttered.

  “Not at all,” Clara assured her. “A lot of girls wear their hair that length.”

  Mesha’s mouth twitched irritably. The beauty of her features was not lost, even when she grimaced and her oval face turned downward. Her power was even more apparent under the new clothing she wore. She carried her strength well and was ever graceful and attractive. “Tyson asked that I tell you the others will arrive soon.” Clara took a quick survey of the room. She hadn’t noticed he was gone. A clock on the nightstand said it was getting on toward noon.

  “How long did I sleep?” she asked.

  “Awhile.”

  “Where is Tyson?”

  “I don’t know, he doesn’t tell me where he’s going, or what he’s doing.”

  “He does keep to himself, doesn’t he?”

  Mesha looked amused. “I wouldn’t say that, no.”

  The doorknob rattled and Clara looked up, fully expecting Tyson. To her surprise, Callan pushed the door carefully open. His body relaxed when his eye rested on her and he sighed with relief. She wanted to move like they could and reach him in lightning speed. Before she’d completed the thought, Mesha leapt up, knocking over the table and chair. She flew across the room at the unsuspecting Callan and pinned him to the wall with a gut wrenching snarl.

  “YOU!” Her voice was no less than rolling thunder and her eyes glowed vibrant gold. Tyson appeared in a flash of movement and yanked her off with a warning growl that distorted his face.

  “You are not to behave like a wild animal!” His voice boomed through his teeth and the room shook.

  “He’s one of them!” Mesha’s voice was deep and her limbs shook with anger. “He’s responsible for her pain!” She pointed to Clara. “How dare he come to her? How dare he show his face?”

  “I don’t care what he’s done! If you can’t behave yourself then you’re out of the pack.”

  Mesha’s eyes slowly slid to Tyson who stood between her and Callan. Her head gave a small nod to show she understood, but her glare snapped back to Callan. Tyson grabbed her arm and thrust her out the door.

  “Take a walk and don’t bother coming back until your emotions are in check.”

  Her face twisted in anger, but she complied. Callan watched with wide eyes and pressed himself to the wall where Mesha had thrown him, as if she would return to finish him off. When she’d gone, he turned to Tyson. “I thought you said she was tame.”

  “She was fine until she saw you,” Tyson growled.

  “What did I do to her?”

  “It’s not what you did to her.”

  Callan’s brow fell when he looked at Clara. “What did you tell her?”

  She was hurt by his accusation and crossed her arms. “I didn’t say a thing!” she said haughtily. A half grin touched Callan’s mouth.

  “You haven’t changed much, have you? You’re still too easy to tease.”

  Tyson watched their exchange with an unreadable face. “I better make sure she doesn’t do anything to compromise us,” he said.

  “Ty!” Callan grabbed his arm. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “You’ll be fine, just don’t lose your temper.” Tyson shook Callan’s grip loose then left, shutting the door. Callan shifted unsteadily and slowly slid his hands into his pants pockets.

  “A-are you still mad?”

  “Mad?” she crossed the room and hugged him. “How could I be?”

  Callan tensed before he relaxed enough to return the embrace. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

  Emotional, she blinked rapidly. A burden she was not aware of owning lifted when she hugged her twin after they’d been apart so long. “I forgive you Callan, but only if you promise never to do that again!”

  He chuckled and hearing his warm laugh made her want to laugh too. After an extra tight hug, he broke the embrace to meet her eye. “I promise.”

  A little alarm started at his words. The feeling was too small for her to give any notice when she was so full of joy. “How did this happen?” she asked.

  “My becoming infected?”

  She nodded. “And everything else.”

  “I’m ashamed to admit the story, in particular to you.”

  She shook her head. “Do you think there’s anything you’ll say that will make me run now?”

  He sighed. “You never know, I did things I’m not proud of.” He ran a hand t
hrough his jet black hair that was so much like hers, only much shorter. His emerald green eyes grew somber and serious. “I was wasted one night…who am I kidding? I was wasted most nights. I’d found friends who helped me access alcohol. This night I didn’t have enough money for a cab and my friends had left. I stumbled toward my hotel, but didn’t make it. I can’t recall exactly how it happened. I was lost and fell into a dark alley by mistake. I startled an animal there and it attacked me. I was sure I would die in the filth of the street. Honestly, I felt I deserved it. Following the attack, I knew nothing but pain, nausea and hot and cold flashes. When morning came I was shocked to find I was alive and even more surprised to find no evidence of a wound or any attack. I felt surprisingly invigorated, especially after being out all night. I shrugged the attack off as an alcohol induced nightmare and tried to go back to my life, if you could call what I’d been doing a life. I lost interest in wasting my time on things that made me forget about mom and my anger towards dad…and how I’d left you. I suddenly wanted to go walking at night and the urge became worse as the moon waxed full. I didn’t know what happened until the full moon.” He shook his head and grinned. “I might have remained a wolf forever if Tyson hadn’t found me.”

  “What’s it like? Being a wolf?”

  “Incredible!” Callan said with a small smile. “I hear, smell and see everything! I run faster and without tiring! I have strength I could never achieve in my mortal body.”

  Her forehead creased and he noticed her puzzled expression.

  “Don’t get me wrong, if I could go back to my human self I would.”

  “No, it’s not that. Tyson makes it sound dreaded and awful.”

  “Yeah well, Tyson hates being a werewolf more than anybody I’ve met.”

  The question she most wanted answered was on the tip of her tongue, but now he was there she was afraid of the answer.

  “You’re holding something back,” he said, tuning into her emotions as if they’d never been apart.

  “I understand you were…or that you are a-a…”

  “Werewolf,” he supplied.

  “Yes.” Clara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you come back anyway? You are my brother, we are family. Nothing can change that.”