All Hallows' Moon

by Reine, SM

  They went to the second bedroom on the left. Gwyn’s room was at the end—Rylie could tell by the bed covered in silky red sheets. Her night stand was covered in orange pill bottles.

  She shut her door. “That one’s mine. This one’s yours.”

  Rylie’s bedroom was a white box with wood floors and a bay window. It looked like it used to be wallpapered, but it had since been torn down, leaving glue stains. An old corkboard was hung on one wall.

  “I haven’t dragged the dresser in from the garage. That’s your job,” Gwyn said. “You can do whatever you want in here: new paint, new carpet, furniture, whatever. Anything short of setting it on fire. I’ll go into the town hardware store to get paint for the kitchen tomorrow after school, so maybe you’ll want some too?”

  “School?” Rylie asked, startled.

  “Yes, school. What did you expect?”

  “I thought I was coming here to help around the ranch.”

  Her aunt grinned, and it wasn’t a pleasant expression at all. “You’re fifteen. You can’t become jaded and give up on society until you’re at least seventeen. Jessica helped me enroll you at the high school in town.”

  Her heart dropped. “But...”

  “You can paint lime polka dots on the walls of my house, but you can’t sit around all day. You’re going to school tomorrow. Got it?”

  She kicked the door frame. “Okay. Fine. Can I have a minute alone?”

  “You going to kill more of my cows if I turn my back on you?” Gwyn asked. Rylie’s jaw dropped. “I’m kidding, girl. Don’t be such an easy mark. I’ll be picking fruit in the orchard if you want to find me.”

  She left. Rylie sank to the bed and buried her face in her hands. The empty room felt like it was crowding in around her.

  Nothing had been the same since camp. After her first real change, Rylie had woken up to find herself naked in the forest with no company but the squirrels, who weren’t too keen on having her around, either. It wasn’t until a park ranger found her and dragged her back to civilization that Rylie learned she had lost two full weeks of her life.

  She still didn’t know what happened during that time. Rylie suspected she must have transformed again since the moon was waning when the ranger found her. She wasn’t sure if she had become human again between the moons or if she had been a wolf for weeks.

  They declared her healthy but dehydrated at the town hospital, where Jessica picked her up. The city was even worse after her change. Rylie barely tolerated three days in her mom’s condo before calling Aunt Gwyneth.

  She had been sure she could make it to the ranch before changing again, even if she hitchhiked. But obviously she hadn’t.

  Rylie remembered riding with the trucker. She also remembered waking up with the cows.

  But between that... nothing.

  Was this her life now? A series of moments between blackouts? Rylie had floated through the last month in a dreamlike haze. The entire summer felt like a nightmare. Her dad’s death, almost getting mugged, Jericho and Cassidy’s attack on the camp, Seth...

  No, not Seth. He could never be a nightmare.

  The last time she remembered seeing him, he had been dragged off by the werewolf who changed her. When she woke up in the forest two weeks later, all traces of him were gone. She still didn’t know if he was dead or not.

  Rylie studied the corkboard. It must have been left by the previous owners, since her aunt wasn’t an artist and several pencil sketches had been pinned to its surface. They illustrated the house and the fields around it, including stables and a little pond. Boring. Safe. Ordinary. Three qualities Rylie’s life would never again possess.

  She ripped down the pictures and stuffed them under the bed.

  One minute, Rylie drifted in a dreamless haze, caught in the confusing place between asleep and awake. The next minute, her bedroom door slammed open and her room was flooded in light.

  She almost fell onto the floor. Rylie had her hackles up until she recognized her aunt’s silhouette. “Get out of bed!” Gwyn ordered, jerking the sheets off her bed.

  Swallowing a growl, Rylie glanced at her fingers—which were tipped with fingernails, not claws—and she squinted through the light at her aunt. She was already in Carhartts, work boots, and a sweater.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s time to do chores. Why aren’t you getting dressed? I told you to get up!”

  The sun wasn’t even coming through the windows yet. Rylie rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I thought I was going to school today.”

  That cruel grin winked at the corner of Gwyn’s mouth. “You are.”

  “Uh,” Rylie said. She couldn’t think of a better response.

  Aunt Gwyn left her to dress, but she returned after about fifteen seconds. Rylie pulled a borrowed pair of jeans over her hips and tried to get the belt tight enough to keep them above her underwear. Her aunt was muscular and much bulkier than she was.

  Gwyn carried a huge bag of feed over her shoulder, and she looked annoyed to see her niece half-dressed. “You might want a shirt before we start working.”

  “I’m not done getting dressed!”

  “Too bad. Move it!”

  She pulled a sweater over her head as she stumbled out the back door. Static made Rylie’s hair stick straight up. Even with a heavy bag of feed over her shoulder, Aunt Gwyn’s stride was twice as long as hers, and she swept through the garden toward the chicken coop. The sky was black and the soil was sodden with dew.

  Stuffing her foot into one oversized boot, then the next, she tried not to trip over the laces as Gwyn shoved the bag into her arms. Rylie threw it over her shoulder.

  Her aunt gave her a funny look, and Rylie suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be a normal teenage girl instead of a super-strong werewolf. She feigned weakness. “Oof,” she said, staggering.

  It might have been the worst performance of her life, but it was good enough for Gwyn. “Feed the chickens, collect the eggs, and meet me in the barn.”

  Rylie hesitated. Animals didn’t like her anymore. The last time she had run across horses, her collarbone had been broken. They were a lot bigger than chickens, but... “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Gwyn was already gone.

  Standing back amongst the cabbages placed her upwind of the chickens so they wouldn’t notice her. The bag of feed felt like an oversized pillow to her, but the lead weight of worry in her gut anchored her to the spot.

  So what if the chickens didn’t like her? What could they do?

  “Feed the chickens,” Rylie muttered. “Collect the eggs.” A rooster cried out mockingly on top of the coop.

  She eased inside the gate. It smelled like the henhouse hadn’t been cleaned in a couple of days, and there were flies everywhere, but the hens weren’t making noise. Maybe they were still asleep. Maybe she could get in and out before they even—

  Feathers exploded around her. The rooster panicked and cackled, flapping its wings to send droppings flying everywhere. The hens awoke all at once, gabbling and bursting out of the coop.

  Shocked, Rylie dropped the bag of feed. It opened and dumped across the ground.

  “Oh no!”

  The presence of food didn’t calm the chickens. The wire enclosure rattled as the rooster flew at her, trying to attack her, and it was so ridiculous that she would have laughed if it wasn’t also a little terrifying.

  And if her stomach wasn’t growling.

  Rylie could see herself snapping her jaws on the neck of a hen and shaking it until its spine snapped. She thought how good it would taste, even if it was a little small, and...

  Wiping drool off her chin, she backtracked out of the coop and latched the gate behind her. Gross. Rylie’s stomach turned. The chickens smelled awful, not delicious. Those were not good thoughts to have.

  Her aunt was saddling up a horse when Rylie poked her head around the barn door.

  “Where are the eggs? And where’s the rest of the feed?�
� Gwyn asked.

  “There weren’t any eggs.”

  “And...?”

  “I dropped the feed bag,” Rylie said to her feet.

  Her aunt rubbed her face. A deep line had taken up permanent residence between her eyebrows. “Why?”

  “It was heavy.” When her aunt gave her a Look—the kind of Look that said she was reconsidering having Rylie help around the ranch—she hurried to add, “I’m really sorry.”

  “You know what? It’s fine. Come in here and saddle up Butch. You’re going to ride out to the goat pasture with me, and then we’ll check on the cows.”

  Rylie stared at Butch without coming into the barn. He looked about a million years old and as gentle as a bunny on Vicodin.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “What’s that? Speak up.”

  “I can’t ride horses anymore. I’m... uh, I’m scared of them.”

  Gwyn planted her hands on her hips. “Stop talking nonsense. You’ve ridden my horses since you could barely reach their knees. I don’t have time for games, so get in here and saddle up.”

  “Isn’t there something else I could do? Something that doesn’t involve animals?”

  “Honey, this is a ranch. Everything is for the animals. You want me to call Jessica, or are you going to help out?”

  Having her mom pick her up sounded almost as fun as getting her collarbone broken by a horse again. Maybe Butch wouldn’t notice that she smelled like a wolf. Maybe he’d let her ride him, and she could do her chores... until he realized there was something evil on his back.

  “Are you sure there isn’t something else I could do?”

  Gwyn’s eyes narrowed. “I might have something.”

  And that’s how Rylie ended up hauling bales of hay at five thirty in the morning on her first day of school.

  It wasn’t that bad, actually. Once her aunt stopped watching, she didn’t have to pretend the bales were hard to lift, and she was so sleepy that she quickly fell into a zombie-like rhythm. Bend, lift, throw, bend—over and over again.

  By the time the sun rose and the ranch hands arrived, Rylie had already unloaded all the hay and arranged it in a neat stack.

  Gwyn tipped her hat back with a knuckle to examine Rylie’s work. “Well,” she said. “All right. Get in the truck. Time for school.”

  Three

  First Day

  Her aunt had found a knapsack somewhere and given Rylie a few supplies. She searched through the bag while Gwyn drove the long road into town. There was a notebook, a couple of pens and pencils, and a white binder with a few dividers. She’d also packed a sandwich in the side pouch. It smelled like cheese and avocado.

  Rylie’s mouth watered, but before she could dig in, her aunt handed her something wrapped in paper. “The one in your bag is for lunch. This is breakfast.”

  She took a sniff of the paper, and images of sour cream, spinach, beans, and rice came to mind. “What is it?”

  “Breakfast burrito. I made it for you last summer, remember?”

  “But there’s no sausage or eggs,” Rylie said.

  Gwyn glanced at her. “Aren’t you a vegetarian?”

  She had been waiting for this question, so she gave her prepared answer: “It was just a phase. I changed my mind over the summer.” Actually, Rylie still found the idea of eating animals repulsive, but werewolves didn’t do well on a diet of vegetables.

  “A phase, huh? Well, if you wake up on time tomorrow, you can eat a real breakfast with me before we start working.”

  “When is ‘on time’?” she asked around a mouthful of tortilla. It tasted like sandpaper to the wolf, but she swallowed it anyway.

  “Four.”

  Not a chance. “Maybe,” Rylie said.

  The town started to appear bit by bit, like grains of sand scattered across paper. First there were a couple of small farms, and then there was a strip mall that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the fifties. Normal houses came next, followed by a gas station, and then Rylie realized they were downtown. It was a wide road with lots of antique stores and a bakery.

  She shuddered. A city girl at heart, Rylie had grown up in fear of towns exactly like this one. She used to love hanging out at art galleries, but she got the impression nobody here would have recognized a Monet if they saw one. “Is there a movie theater?”

  “Sure, the Valley Cinema. Two screens.”

  Rylie tried not to start crying.

  They turned off at the end of the street and went about a block before stopping. She got out of the truck. The high school buildings were scattered around the lot without any apparent reasoning, and one big tree with yellowing leaves guarded the entrance. Otherwise, it was as barren as the rest of the city—aside from all the teenagers.

  They were doing normal teenager things. Milling around to talk, parking their cars, playing hacky sack. It looked like morning at any other high school around the country.

  So why was Rylie’s heart pounding?

  Aunt Gwyneth leaned out the window. “You’ll need to get your schedule at the office before you go to class. Think you can handle it?”

  No! No, no, no!

  “Yeah... I guess.”

  “Great. See you after school!”

  “Gwyn!” Rylie called, trying to make one last effort at summoning her back, but the truck rumbled away without her.

  She stared at the high school sign. It loomed in her vision, shaded by the sun at its rear, and Rylie fought not to hyperventilate.

  I can’t do this. I can’t go to high school again.

  What if everybody hated her? After her problems at Camp Silver Brook, she couldn’t stand the thought of having to meet a whole new group of horrible girls.

  Rylie clutched her knapsack like armor, taking deep breaths. She needed the wolf. The wolf wouldn’t care about school, nor would it care if nobody liked her. It only cared about the hunger.

  Shutting her eyes, she sought out the warm, dark place inside herself where the wolf slept between moons. It hibernated in the days after a change, and it was especially satiated and quiet after getting to eat all those cows. Rylie tried to stir it, but the wolf didn’t think high school was worth waking up.

  It wouldn’t be any help today. She was on her own.

  The office was in the first building to the right. A secretary worked on a computer with a huge, blocky monitor that looked like it should have been in a museum. He looked up when she approached, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Rylie Gresham. I’m new.”

  “Oh, Gresham. Right. We’re expecting you. Here you go.” He handed over her schedule and a copy of the school’s map. “Do you need help finding your way around?”

  There were four small buildings marked out on the map, and a multipurpose room that served as both cafeteria and gymnasium. Her last high school had wings, the students were known by their ID number, and half of her classes had been in lecture halls.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Welcome to our school,” he said with a thin smile.

  Rylie could feel the weight of the eyes pressing on her as she searched for her classes. Students whispered. Teachers watched her for too long. There were about three hundred people in the entire school, so a new student couldn’t have been more obvious unless she blasted a foghorn from the top of the bleachers.

  She could hear her name underneath it all, like the whispering of a river: Rylie.

  Homeroom was supposed to be a half hour period of silent reading. She didn’t have a book. The teacher loaned her a dog-eared copy of “The Handmaiden’s Tale,” but he didn’t try to keep everyone quiet, so murmurs rolled through the room. Rylie’s sensitive hearing picked it all up.

  I heard she’s from the city.

  What’s she doing here?

  She’s so skinny.

  She looks mean.

  Rylie opened her book to a random page and pretended to read, but she couldn’t stop listening to ev
eryone. After everything she endured at camp, she felt like she should have been immune to the attention. All she wanted was to be invisible and ignored, and being new in a small farming town was just about the worst way to disappear.

  The half hour homeroom period crept along too slowly. When she finally escaped into the fresh air and sunlight, Rylie stood in the quad taking deep breaths with her eyes shut.

  When the bell rang for the next period, she opened her eyes to find a short girl standing in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Recharging my solar batteries,” Rylie said.

  “You’re weird.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She moved to find her next class, and the girl followed. “Why did you move here?”

  “I was extradited,” she said without stopping.

  “God, I’m just trying to be friendly. I’m Kathleen, by the way. I’m on the leadership committee. I was going to offer to show you around.”

  Rylie gave Kathleen a second look. She was one of those girls who had grown out rather than up when she hit puberty, and she had the unpleasant face of a pig digging through the mud. Even though she didn’t look anything like Amber, who taunted Rylie for weeks at camp before getting killed, something about Kathleen brought that horrible girl to mind anyway.

  “I know your type,” Rylie said in a low voice so nobody else could hear. “Don’t mess with me. I will mess you up.”

  Kathleen looked like she’d been slapped, and she was still standing there when Rylie went into her geography class.

  Ms. Reedy hovered over her desk and stared at her through glasses that made her look like an owl. Rylie tried to ignore her, but the teacher didn’t move until the bell gave its final chime. Kathleen took her seat just in time.

  “Rylie Gresham,” Ms. Reedy said.

  “What?”

  “Would you please come to the front of the class?”

  The teacher followed as Rylie went to stand in front of the blackboard and face her classmates. She had spent all morning trying not to look at these people, hoping that they would go away if she ignored them. Now she could do nothing but look at rows of unfamiliar faces.