“Remember,” Tyson whispered to her when she reached for the handle. “Behave.”
She turned to scowl, but he’d already left the car and opened her door for her. Mumbling her thanks, she slid from her seat, glad to have her feet on solid earth for a time. She took a deep breath of the crisp air in effort to regain some composure. She nearly screamed when an unfamiliar voice spoke from directly behind.
“Do you think it wise to keep the pup with the mortal?”
She turned to face the man behind the voice. Tyson went to her side. “Rodger, this is Clara.”
The man was a lot older than she first anticipated, looking to be well over eighty. His skin was wrinkled and stretched. He carried his body on thin, knobby legs. His arms were even thinner and he held a cane to help support himself. His eyes were hidden under the baseball cap he wore. “Well, at least she isn’t sore on the eyes,” his aged voice cracked when he spoke. Clara felt her face fanning alive with embarrassment once again. Tyson chuckled.
“The pup you spoke of is Callan,” he said, drawing Callan’s attention from his uneasy pacing.
“It’s plain as day they’re siblings,” Rodger said then turned his head to address Callan. “Don’t you know to leave everyone behind?”
“They are siblings,” Tyson said agreeably. “But I’m afraid my brother has complicated things when it comes to Clara.”
“He’s threatened her?” Rodger asked.
“He’s done more than threaten.”
Rodger sighed and shook his head. “You’re welcome to wander as much as you need, young Callan. I own over a hundred acres, so if you stay within the fence you should be alright. Even so, there isn’t another ranch or dwelling for miles and miles beyond the fence.”
“Thank you, sir,” Callan said and looked to Tyson who nodded once. Callan took off running, leaving them in a blur of motion.
“My boys are out there,” Rodger said, “but they won’t hurt him.”
“We appreciate your hospitality,” Tyson said.
“Well…I suppose we’d better get your girl to the house. Forgive me if I don’t wait, I’ll see you inside.”
Clara knew Rodger was a werewolf, but it shocked her to see such an old looking man move as if the very wind gave him speed. When their host was gone, Tyson went to the rear of the car and reached for the hatch door. His phone rang before he could open it.
“It’s them,” he said to Clara before flipping it open. “Where are you?” He waited before speaking again. “That’s right…if Felina needs the help, then I suppose we can wait one more day, as long as Rodger doesn’t mind. He’s nervous having an innocent around, so be sure to come as fast as you can. Don’t take more than two days.” The phone snapped shut and was hidden in his pocket again.
“What happened?” she asked.
“He says Mesha’s going crazy being away from you so long. Aside from that, Felina’s lost two of her pups. They went wild and ran off in the mountains.”
“They’re going to help find them?”
“As long as it doesn’t take long.” He jerked the hatch open and pulled the luggage from within. “Come on, we’d better not keep Rodger waiting.”
Rodger’s house was a rather big one, with three stories and plenty of square footage. The face of the house was made of logs and large stones. They came to the front door, painted a forest green, and found it propped open. Tyson moved inside without a second thought, shutting the door behind them. Rodger sat on a large leather sofa that faced the front window. He leaned forward while resting his weight on his cane. Even in the well lit room, his face was obscured by his red hat.
“It’s been awhile since a…lady paid us a visit. I’m afraid our rooms were designed more for the masculine taste.”
She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or not and was about to respond when she felt a gentle pressure on her elbow. “Whatever you have will be fine, thank you,” Tyson said.
Rodger stood slowly, giving the impression his joints hurt. “Well, I suppose we’d best get to it then. Follow me.” His aged legs bent as he hobbled to a staircase, leaning on his cane all the while. Every other stair creaked as they climbed and he led them down a hall then up another set of stairs. “I thought it would be best to keep you on the third floor away from the others. The recreation room is up there, but the boys don’t go there much in the evenings.” He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open to reveal a plain room. The walls were painted white and a bed had been shoved against the furthest wall. Brown curtains draped the small window and matched the dull tone of the carpet. “This is where you’ll stay. I hope it’ll do.”
“It’s perfect, thank you,” Tyson said and placed the suitcase against the wall inside the door. She wanted to express her thanks as well, but another gentle pressure on her arm told her to keep still.
“Dinner is in a half hour, at five-thirty,” Rodger said and began hobbling up the hall. Tyson grabbed Clara’s arm and pulled her in the room. The latch clicked shut behind them. He stayed perfectly still and she held her breath, knowing he was listening.
“It’s fine,” he said when he realized what she was doing.
“Is it? How can things be fine if I can’t even speak?”
“Rodger is old and set in his ways.”
“Older than you?”
“His mind is old, Clara. He has certain views on things and this situation is odd to him. We would do well to just stay out of the way until we can leave. Try to avoid talking to him, or any of his pack.”
“Where are the other members of his pack?”
“Working. Rodger’s ranch is a fully operating one.”
“You mean they breed cows to sell for meat?”
“Yes,” Tyson said with a nod. She made a face. “It is only until tomorrow night. We are as safe here as anywhere, so try to enjoy what time you have to rest.”
“That’s all I ever do,” she said.
“I know it’s not what you want,” Tyson replied, going to the window and drawing the curtain. “Do you remember my saying we should leave the country?”
She nodded, pulling a bit of her hair over shoulder to twist in her fingers.
“I know you want to find Jothram and,” he said, holding up a finger when her eyes brightened, “you were right when you said I probably had an idea of where he would go.”
“You know where he is?” she asked excitedly.
“I don’t know, but I can guess. I think my guess is a pretty good one too.”
“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?” She held her breath waiting for the answer. He blew a sigh, fighting to remain calm, and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Just do something for me, alright?”
“Sure,” she agreed.
“Tell me what you’ll do when you meet him,”
Her brow furrowed and she wrapped her hair between her fingers again. “I don’t know…I couldn’t until I meet him.”
“Just imagine you have,” he said and bit his cheek.
“I-I would see if there is any truth to the legend…to this belief that I am…”
“The cure. Yes, but how would you?”
“I don’t really know, Tyson. That’s why I have to see him first.”
He paused and seemed to be chewing straight through the flesh of his cheek. “Would you ask him if he loves you?”
She nodded.
“What if he says yes?”
“I would tell him he’s wrong,” she whispered and looked away.
“You seem so sure,” he said quietly. “How are you so confident that you are not the one?”
She studied the boring carpet, although there was nothing to study, doing anything to keep her attention from his entrapping eyes. “I…just am.”
“Please, Clara, let’s assume for one minute that Jothram has professed his love for you, what then?”
“It isn’t possible,” she could barely force the words out. Unable to sit any longe
r, she used her suitcase as an excuse to stand and went to unzip it. She made a show of pretending to look for something, but scarcely saw what was right before her eyes.
“Why not?” he asked, coming to stand behind her. She zipped the compartment back up and started to unzip the second. Tyson’s warm hand came over hers and he sat on his haunches next to her, keeping a hold of her hands. “Clara, just tell me why.”
“I can’t love him,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the carpet. “How can someone love me if I can’t love them?”
He laughed, but his eyes seemed sad. The floor creaked when he stood and released her. “I think that’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say since we met.”
“Why?” she asked sharply, her attention fully on him.
“You can’t love Jothram because he’s a werewolf.”
She shook her head, wanting to scream at the irony. “That’s not what I said, nor what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?”
“Tyson, please…” she got to her feet once more. “Allow me a few secrets and believe me when I say I cannot love him.”
“Love him or not, I promised I would take you to him and I am one who keeps my promises.”
“Really?” Clara asked hopefully.
“I will certainly try. I can’t promise he’ll be where I think he is, but he can’t hide from us forever.”
She let her fingers slide through her hair as the cruel reality of it all hit her. The truth was Jothram could hide forever and forever was too long.
Tyson thought it best they skip the formal dinner that night. Even so, a tray of food was sent to them. Clara picked at her salad while Tyson ate the rare piece of meat sent for him. Callan didn’t return that night, but she woke to her pink rose standing straight in its vase. Callan lay spread out on the floor with nothing more than a thin blanket between him and carpet. Experience told her he would not wake for some time. He had never been a light sleeper, but since she’d come into the pack, she noticed he was extremely difficult to wake. Tyson was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t surprise her. Nor was she surprised when he appeared in the door after she began rustling around to change.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she said and combed her messy hair back with her fingers.
“I thought you might want to go for a walk after breakfast.”
“And…what’s for breakfast?”
“Cold cereal is all they have, aside from animal proteins.”
“I appreciate your looking. Cold cereal is perfect.”
He nodded once. “When you’re ready, I’ll be downstairs.”
She dressed and readied for the day, prepared to face the unknown of Rodger’s ranch. The kitchen was large, but otherwise nothing special. It reeked of bacon grease and sausage. Tyson sat with her as she ate, but was his normal, taciturn self. Callan had not come downstairs when they left the house via the backdoor. There was a vegetable garden just beyond the stretch of lawn that surrounded the back wall. Rodger was there, leaning against a shovel and talking with a young looking man.
“Hello there, Tyson!” Rodger called and waved a hand to them, inviting them to come over. “Did you sleep well?” He raised his face toward them and Clara was able to discern his features for the first time, thanks to the light of day. His brown-green eyes were lifeless and his expression sad, even when he smiled. He had a wide forehead and high cheekbones from which his loose skin hung.
“As well as could be expected, I reckon,” Tyson said.
“I was very surprised that you stayed indoors until the light touched the horizon. The moon is getting brighter. I hope you don’t strain yourself too much, I wasn’t planning on remodeling that room.”
“I am under control,” Tyson answered smoothly.
“Have you met Dingo?” Rodger asked and lowered his head until his hat hid his eyes again. He gestured toward the young looking man. He was as well muscled and large as most other werewolves she’d seen. His dark hair was long, falling to his shoulders. He wore a red kerchief tied around his neck that was half hidden under a red checkered shirt and blue denim pants.
“Dingo, is it?” Tyson asked and shook his hand.
Dingo nodded. “It wasn’t always my name, but I have decided to leave my old life behind.”
“They must choose a new name if they are to enter my pack,” Rodger said. “It helps them transition and forget.”
Dingo watched Clara closely as they spoke. “We are very curious about your mortal,” he said as if she were Tyson’s pet. “Why would you risk keeping her near?”
“Dingo,” Rodger said and slapped the man on the back. “His business is not ours.”
“It is curious to say the least,” Dingo answered ingenuously.
“Believe it or not, she has been invited into my pack to keep her from the infection,” Tyson said. “My brother set his sights on her and has endeavored to turn her on more than one occasion.”
“Brother?” Dingo asked. “A literal brother?”
“Come now, Dingo, back to work with you,” Rodger interjected.
Dingo disappeared with a look of confusion on his face.
“Please excuse him, he is young still. Well, young lady, I was disappointed not to see you at dinner last evening.”
“She was tired,” Tyson said for her.
“Is she mute?”
“I am not mute,” she said, finally finding her voice. “Please excuse my absence last evening, sir, I was tired.”
“I expect to see you at dinner tonight,” Rodger said. “We don’t often get a chance to break bread with company, especially company as lovely as you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said and her cheeks went pink.
“Please, call me Rodger. Tyson, you will share your mortal tonight, won’t you?”
“If it is alright with you, then of course.”
“She will do us good,” Rodger said as if convincing himself of the matter. “I expect you’ll be off now. Remember my boys are out there, so don’t be surprised if you run into any of them.”
“Certainly,” Tyson said with a nod.
Rodger nodded as well and lifted his cane to vanish from before them. She puzzled over how strange his pack seemed until Tyson’s large wolf head appeared in her line of sight. She jumped and took a step back. “Tyson! Warn me before you do that!” she gasped. His eyes glittered mischievously and she put a hand on his cheek. “I guess I should know better by now, but when you said we were going for a walk I thought I would be doing some walking as well.”
“Get on.”
She gasped and withdrew her hand. Not only could she hear him, she could sense how much he longed to run. His ears fell flat and he pushed his nose into her palm.
“You heard me?”
“I hear you,” she whispered. His eyes widened and an outbreak of panic washed over him before he yanked his nose away. “Tyson?” she asked in a small voice and stretched her hand toward him again. He huffed and shook his body like a wet dog. His wide, dog paws moved from her and he closed his eyes. She wrestled with disappointment until his eyes popped open again and he approached, touching his nose to her hand. There was a forced sense of calm about him.
“Alright, get on.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, remembering how Callan had laughed. “They will see.”
Her mind filled with images of him running and she felt excited. “Yes, now come on!” He crouched down and she climbed on. This time she knew to hug his neck and keep as still as she could. With time less of an issue than before, he moved more slowly. She wasn’t sure if he meant to or not, but they didn’t encounter any of Rodger’s pack.
He meandered about, searching through everything for nothing. The day was rather warm for late autumn. If it had been cold she would have kept warm in his dense fur. He remained silent after their initial conversation, but she could sense his thoughts as he investigated the area. Sometime after the sun reached high noon, C
allan found them and he too was in his wolf form. He came running up with his tongue lolling and his great chest heaving with exhilaration. She heard his laughter in the chuckles that echoed through Tyson’s mind.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha! I was hoping to get a chance to see this!” Irritation shot through Tyson before he forced patience to calm his thoughts.
“She can hear me when she touches my fur!” he thought.
“I can hear him too,” she added, sitting a little straighter. “I still don’t understand what’s so funny.”
There was gaping silence as Callan recovered from shock. “How can she hear me?” he asked.
“It’s probably due to the fact that I can hear you,” Tyson answered.
Callan glanced to his sister. “Why can she hear you?”
“I’m still not sure about that one. I can only guess that she has more werewolf in her than we first assumed.”
“I’m werewolf?” she asked, unable to keep the thrill from her voice. She gasped when Tyson’s fierce anger came into her mind, nearly burning her thoughts with the intensity of it.
“I’m sorry,” he growled. “Just…don’t sound so glad about it, alright?”
“Alright,” she agreed, but smiled. Callan’s tail wagged back and forth and his head cocked to one side.
“Hold on,” Tyson warned before starting off again. She shifted to a more comfortable position, content in listening to them share their thoughts. Callan’s emotions were off the grid and, like a child, he could only focus on something for a small period of time. They continued their romp and sniffed the wind for signs of their pack.
Hours later, they were making their way through a small clump of trees when Tyson came to an abrupt halt. He listened intently and sniffed the air. Jolts of fear ran up her arms and she pushed back in order to better see.
“It’s Rodger,” Tyson thought to her. “He’s taken his wolf form.”
Bright Moon Page 17