Bright Moon

by Andria Canayo

  She felt light as air and even a little giddy. Her stomach rumbled and she made her way to the kitchen where she hoped to find Dawn. Her chipper demeanor was short-lived when she crossed the entertainment room to the dining area. Koty sat at the table, sipping something steamy from a mug. Her heart fell a little when she saw they were alone. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and went to Koty.

  “We haven’t been introduced.” She attempted to sound natural and confident. “I’m Clara.”

  Koty took her time looking up from her drink, her bright blue eyes shadowed. “I know who you are,” she said thickly. Awkwardness clung in the air.

  “I know your name as well, I just haven’t seen you around.”

  “There’s a reason for that,” Koty got to her feet, moved around Clara and dumped her warm beverage down the sink. “I don’t approve of your presence, I think you’re endangering the pack.”

  Clara reacted to the verbal attack by stepping back. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  Koty wheeled from the sink to face her. “Don’t be sorry when it’s simple enough to fix. Go home.”

  As hurt as she was, she had no response. When she didn’t offer words of retaliation, Koty sneered and stepped toward her. Clara refused to be further intimidated and stood her ground. Koty glared through her lovely blue eyes and pulled the rose from Clara’s hair, yanking a few strands loose.

  “These are a lie!” she hissed and threw it to the ground. Clara’s hot temper flared and she would have come unglued if not for Callan’s timely arrival.

  “Koty!” he growled and pushed Clara back while getting in Koty’s face. “You have no right to say those things, lay off her!”

  Koty grinned then laughed. “She knows I’m right and you know I’m right.” With that she turned away, her hair whipping the air.

  “You’re wrong,” Callan said.

  She ignored Callan and went out the back door. Callan turned to face Clara.

  “You don’t believe her, do you?”

  She averted her gaze and an answer wouldn’t come.

  “Clara?” Callan put a hand on her shoulder. She pushed it off and stormed to her room. She slammed the door only to find Mesha on the bed. Blinking back tears, she sat next to her.

  “Don’t worry about Koty,” Mesha said calmly. “You know she’s only one voice of the seven of us, don’t you?”

  “You heard everything then?” Clara asked while going to sit by her.

  “It was hard not to,” Mesha admitted.

  “She may be one voice, but there was some truth to her words. Tyson himself told me Parker would stop at nothing to have me. What if any of you are hurt? I don’t want to take that risk. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  “Tyson doesn’t have the most eloquent way of putting things. He probably should have considered how his words would affect you. This situation might be a little strange, but Koty is wrong. The fact of the matter is that we have to bond together as a family, not tear one another down. Like it or not, you are a part of this family.”

  Mesha’s advice was solid, but Clara couldn’t keep from dwelling on Koty’s accusations. If she really felt a part of their odd little family, shouldn’t she be more willing to sacrifice herself for their safety? She faked a smile and tucked her thoughts away for later.

  “When did you gain all this wisdom?” she asked.

  Mesha chuckled. “You do remember I’m somewhere around a hundred years old?”

  She smiled and nodded. Mesha got to her feet. “I’m going for a run, do you want to come?”

  Tyson’s warning rang in her ears before she answered, but it only made her more determined to go. “You don’t have to ask!” she said with a sense of relief. They descended the stairs and made their way out the backdoor. The cars were lined in the carport, the only variance of color in the surrounding plant life. Birds chittered from unseen perches and the pine needles rattled in the breeze. The air was fresh and smelled of dirt and pine, making her think of Tyson. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the mountainous air push her problems to the furthest recesses of her mind. When she opened her eyes again, she jumped and swallowed a scream. Mesha had shape shifted to her amazing wolf form.

  “I thought you said we were going for a run?” she asked as Mesha lowered in front of her, a sure indication to climb on. Her yellow eyes sparkled with humor. Hesitantly, Clara pulled her body onto Mesha’s and hugged her neck. She waited for the alarming, gut wrenching speed, but Mesha sauntered forward at a less unsettling pace. To say Mesha was pacing herself would have been an understatement. Perhaps extreme athletes might have been able to keep up. Still, the trees zipped by and wind pulled at Clara’s hair and clothing.

  Mesha pranced lively, clearly thrilled to be in the wilderness. When she landed in the soft earth, a small thud resonated through the forest. Clara yelled and gripped Mesha tighter. “Be careful!” she called over the wind. Mesha glanced at her and shook her head with a glint in her eye. A few miles later, Clara relaxed and sat back a little. Mesha climbed rock and skimmed the terrain. Clara hunkered close to her body when the air bit at her exposed arms.

  Mesha didn’t seem to have a destination as she wound in and out of rock and trees. The sky was clear and blue with wisps of cloud scattered over the horizon. Clara thoroughly enjoyed the tranquility until Mesha surprised her by stopping short. She raised her snout to the wind and sniffed, her ribcage expanding and retracting. A growl rumbled deep within and she sprinted forward. Clara yelped and barely grabbed the thick coat of fur in time to keep from being thrown. When Mesha stopped again, they were in a particularly dense and dark area of the forest. She shook Clara off her back.

  “What is it?” Clara asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Mesha’s eyes burned bright with anger. She didn’t pause and was gone in a flash of grey. Clara leaned against the rough bark of a tree and glanced around to try and get her bearings. Nothing seemed familiar. She waited in the hopes that Mesha would come back. Moments after, an unmistakable report of gunfire broke the peace of the woods, followed closely by men yelling for their lives. Fear for Mesha made her stumble toward the shot instead of away. Her mortal speed was never more evident, but she eventually ran into a scene that made her stop short.

  Mesha had shifted to her human form and knelt over a lump of fur. Clara’s first fear was that someone in the pack had been shot down, but the mound was much too small. She picked her way to Mesha’s side. She held a wolf’s head in her lap. The wolf had been a mighty creature with a dull grey coat and a white underbelly. A hole in its side produced a small fountain of blood and it wasn’t breathing.

  “Mesha?” Clara asked quietly.

  “Poachers,” Mesha growled.

  “Where are the poachers?” Clara asked.

  “They shot me and ran when it didn’t have the desired effect.”

  “You were shot?”

  “Yes,” she waved a hand as if it were no big deal. “It wasn’t silver.”

  “They saw you change shape?”

  “No, they only saw my wolf body. I’m not that careless. Although, I did have a hard time keeping myself from killing them.”

  Clara bit her lip and knelt next to Mesha. “What they did is horrible, but it’s probably better you didn’t.”

  “Tyson would have killed me for letting humans see me at all,” Mesha said with a laugh. “He may still.”

  While Clara’s heart wrung with sadness by the gruesome display of calloused disregard for life, Mesha seemed cut to the soul by it. She stroked the wolf’s head and sniffed back tears. Unsure of what to do, Clara put a hand on Mesha’s arm and watched. Mesha startled her again when her head snapped up as her eyes went wide. She stood quickly, pulling Clara to her feet.

  “Now what?”

  “Sh!” Mesha stood fast and pulled her a few yards from the remains. Clara followed blindly, ducking behind a thick of undergrowth when Mesha disappeared there as well. She thought the poac
hers had returned to retrieve their prize. “Look,” Mesha whispered and pointed. There, where the grey wolf lay, a half a dozen wolves appeared with ears lowered. They crowded around the dead wolf, touching her with their snouts and licking her wound.

  “She was the dominant wolf,” Mesha whispered to Clara.

  “I thought males were the dominant ones,” Clara whispered back.

  “They work in pairs.” Mesha pressed her finger to her lips. The wolves congregated around their leader comfortingly. “We should leave,” Mesha whispered. Clara’s eyes lingered on the wolves and when she turned, Mesha was in her wolf form offering her a ride. After seeing the wolf, Mesha seemed to need to run to take the edge off. By the time they were back at the house, Clara was stiff. She dismounted and was startled by Tyson’s booming yell. “What is going on here?”

  She wheeled around guiltily. Tyson was next to them, his body rigid with agitation. “We went for a run,” Mesha answered, having transformed when Clara wasn’t looking.

  “Mesha, Clara is healing. You can’t take her romping all over the woods.”

  “I’m sorry, I only thought she’d enjoy getting out of the house.”

  “Don’t take her unless you’ve asked me first,” Tyson snapped.

  “Hey,” Clara stepped toward him. “Don’t get mad at her, she didn’t force me to do anything.”

  “You should be resting,” Tyson persisted. “You were very sick.”

  “I feel great,” Clara said curtly. She turned from them and went in the back door, wishing she could move at their speed. Tyson followed her every step.

  “Are you sure you’re well?”

  Clara stopped walking mid-stride. “You think I’ve forgotten, don’t you?”

  Tyson lips twitched and he pressed them together before speaking, obviously suppressing a snarl. “You want to know Jothram’s location? I’ll take you to him,” he said heatedly.

  “You know where he is?”

  He reached like he wanted to touch her arm, but retracted his hand. “You don’t seem to understand that he is dangerous.”

  “How is he so much more dangerous than any of you?”

  “He was the first, Clara, do you know what that means? He could have kept this curse to himself. If he had just a little self control, he would be the only one.”

  “You yourself admitted you accidentally bit Mark, how do you know he didn’t make a similar mistake?”

  Tyson’s chiseled chin jutted forward. “You have to be the craziest woman I’ve ever met! You’re certainly the first mortal I’ve ever known who goes looking for more werewolves to socialize with. I’m warning you that I may not be able to protect you from him.”

  “I don’t want you to have to protect me from anyone. Where is he and when are we going to meet him?”

  Tyson shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, fisting a chunk of it in frustration. “We aren’t going to find him until you’ve healed completely. Running around trying to keep up with Mesha isn’t helping you heal.”

  “I heal quickly, remember? We can leave now.” She pointed to the floor to animate her meaning.

  “You’re going to have to exercise patience.”

  The opportunity to bite back was taken when Koty appeared at Tyson’s elbow. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she sang pleasantly. “Want to go for a run?”

  “I can’t,” Tyson replied simply without otherwise acknowledging her over cheerful demeanor. Koty’s face immediately fell and she gave Clara a glare.

  “Why not? Are you busy entertaining the mortal?” she asked bitterly. Raw fear clamped over Clara’s throat when Koty’s eyes began to glow yellow. Tyson, however, grabbed Koty and slammed her to the wall. The house shuddered on impact and cracks in the paint and sheetrock climbed down the wall.

  “Do not test me, Koty!” he snarled in her face with his arm pressed to her chest and neck. The look on his face was fierce. The yellow melted from Koty’s eyes and she wiggled from Tyson’s death grip. A crater in the wall outlined where she’d been.

  “You haven’t been the same since you came back! All you’ve done is agonize over the mortal,” Koty accused with a glare of hatred for Clara. “She’s making the pack weak!”

  “You don’t know the situation,” Tyson growled under his breath.

  “I know she’s Callan’s sister, what else is there to know? You told me we don’t make exceptions for our mortal relations.”

  “I don’t tell you everything. How can I when you question me this way?”

  Koty’s face went from angry to blameworthy. “I didn’t mean to question your authority,” she said apologetically.

  “You will be banished if you lash out again.”

  Clara gasped and Tyson’s head twitched in her direction, otherwise he ignored her outburst. Koty’s delicate chin moved back and forth as she ground her teeth. Her expression of anger was more telling than words could describe. She looked as if Tyson had just dug into her chest and ripped her heart out. She kept her lips pressed shut and walked away.

  “You shouldn’t—” Clara started to speak after Koty had gone. Tyson silenced her with a single stern look. When he stepped nearer she fell against the wall. He put a hand above each of her shoulders and leaned closer until she was encompassed by the heat emanating from his body.

  “I am not accustomed to being told what I should and shouldn’t do. I am used to getting my way. I’ve never met someone who dared try and advise me on so many occasions.” His voice was low and ominous.

  “You do realize you have just effectively described the essence of a bully?” she asked as her throat went raw with emotion.

  “A bully?” he repeated and raised a brow at her.

  She glared up and nodded.

  Callan filled the end of the hall just then. “What’s wrong with Koty?” he asked. Tyson leaned back when Callan saw them and made a strange sound in his throat. “I thought Koty might have done something to hurt Clara.”

  “No,” Clara said quickly, relieved Tyson had backed off, although he hadn’t relented his glower.

  “It seems you will get your wish, Miss Rita, because you’ll be meeting Jothram all that much sooner. We have to move,” Tyson told them and Callan’s face fell.

  “We just got here.”

  “Koty isn’t coming back, and if she isn’t coming back, then she’s not welcome in the pack. Nobody but the pack can know where we are.”

  “She’s walking out?” Callan sounded concerned. Tyson clapped a hand to his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking him in the eye and Clara realized her brother liked Koty more than she’d guessed. Tyson squeezed his shoulder once then started down the hall. “We leave in one hour.”

  “Oh, Callan.” Her emerald eyes dimmed and her own features fell.

  “It’s silly, I know.” Callan tried to smile, but only looked pained.

  “Silly? I don’t believe you to be silly at all.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Of course, if you’re silly then I’m ten times the silly, if not a hundred.”

  Callan laughed and pulled her into a hug. “I missed you, sis.”

  “You aren’t upset with me?” she asked when he released her.

  “Of course not, why would I be?”

  “She left because of me.”

  “She makes her own decisions. It was about time I got over her anyway, she never quite returned the sentiment.”

  “She wasn’t very smart then, was she?”

  He grinned as if she’d told a joke. “Thanks, Clare Bear.”

  She wanted to laugh at the reminder of her childhood name, and she might have if her brother hadn’t trivialized something she meant to be serious. “Laugh all you like, I can see through your tough exterior.”

  “Come on, sis, we’ve got to pack.”

  She sighed, not relishing the idea of having to move again. Building herself up mentally, she followed her brother down the hall to gather
her things.

  They left like thieves in the night, taking what little they were allowed and everyone squeezed in an SUV. Clara had no reason to assume their trip wouldn’t be like the one before and was surprised when Tyson steered them to an airport. He handled the tickets and paperwork and got them all through security. The flight lasted three hours and it was late when they landed. Just when she thought they might settle down for the night, Tyson had them on another flight. A few hours after the second flight, they were on a third. It went on like that all through the night and into what she thought was the late morning.

  An announcement made over the plane’s intercom informed her they were in Canada. Thick flakes of snow fell from the sky and Tyson insisted on getting Clara a warm coat from a gift shop, reminding her of her mortality. Finally, they were leaving the airport in a vehicle that couldn’t take to the air. He drove as he always did, like a madman, but she’d learned to expect nothing less. She wasn’t sure how often she fell asleep in the warm car and lost track of time.

  Just like the other hideouts, Tyson had chosen a location far from the reach of people. He drove and drove until they came to a high rocky area, much like the past two spots, except snow blanketed everything in sight. The ride was hard on Mesha and Callan more so than anyone. Once the engine switched off they were out of the car before Clara could blink. Jack followed closely behind, but Dawn seemed more than willing to take refuge inside.

  The cabin was nothing less than the picturesque scene from a Christmas card, covered with snow and surrounded by evergreens and snowdrifts. Clara was rushed in and she knew Tyson was mindful of her recent illness. He went as far as to insist she go straight to bed. Although she wasn’t really tired after sleeping most of the trip, she didn’t mind the time to herself.

  Her room was pleasantly snug. Brightly colored quilts were folded and stacked neatly on the end of the bed. The bedroom set was pinewood. There was a frosted window with a window seat where she could watch the falling snow. She spent a little while unpacking, but didn’t have many things. She wished Mesha or Callan would return to keep her company. Instead, she made good use of the window seat which was lined with plenty of cushions. Outside, the snow gently made its way to the ground creating a sense of somniferous calm. She soon became lost to her thoughts and eventually fell asleep.