Moon Struck: Book 1 (When, Were, and Howl)

by Raleigh, Jeanette

  The furniture store delivered my desk, and restoring the office was actually a lot of fun. Right on the hour, Francis Edwards, vampire extraordinaire, strolled in.

  In case you were wondering, I’m bitter about vampires, too. They get great press in the movies, but most of it is spin. No one in their right mind would choose to kiss a walking corpse. I’m sorry, but there, I said it. A vampire is a blood-drinking dead thing that needs someone else’s life to animate itself.

  From what an acquaintance told me at an office Christmas party (the job before this one), vampires weren’t interested in kissing humans either, unless they got something out of it, and I’m not talking sex here. She acquired this knowledge through personal experience of the kind I hope never to have.

  Anyway, my own personal feelings aside, Francis definitely looked the part, jet black hair, pasty complexion, and lips far too deep a shade of red for my liking. He must have had lunch before coming. I guess I should be grateful.

  Rob opened the door with that ever-charming smile lighting up his face. “Come in. Can I get you something to drink?”

  I wanted to shout at Rob. Are you crazy? You don’t just offer a vampire beverages. I’ve had a bad enough day without being someone’s slurpy. Guess I was wrong because Francis accepted a coke.

  Rob likes me to sit in on his appointments, generally to take notes and get an impression of the customer’s needs. I’m pretty good at that. I fidgeted under the gaze of ancient eyes. Francis stared a lot, and I had the feeling that I was just a speck of curious flotsam in the chain of life compared to a vampire like Francis who by legend has probably lived a thousand years.

  In reality, I have no idea how long a vampire lives. What I do know is that sunlight doesn’t affect them much, other than to do what any other source of light does and point out the flaws a reanimated corpse has, such as a certain inflexibility in the facial muscles, kind of like botox.

  The plastic vampire face really gives people the heebie jeebies. I tried very hard not to stare at Francis, particularly the lines in his face, but I caught a glimpse now and then with my not-staring. I’m pretty sure that’s the real reason vamps prefer the night-time. That and people get drunk at night and a drunk is generally easy to feed off of.

  I’m not sure how many people have been to an open casket funeral. I went to my grandfather’s. He was missing the essence of him, that spark of spirit or soul that living people have. Watching Francis was like looking at someone who had lost that essence and yet still talked and moved and even drank soda.

  When I saw the way Francis moved his tongue around the soda can, I finally figured out why creative types started the fascination with vampire sex. Francis knew how to work his tongue. Still, cold and dead is cold and dead.

  When Francis told us what he was looking for, I’m sure my face reflected the shock. He told us that he wanted to buy a ranch. “I need enough acreage to raise a couple of horses, cattle, chickens, dogs, the whole works.”

  The whole works, as if he were ordering a burger. The look on Rob’s face was priceless. He recovered quickly, though. Me? I’m afraid my mouth just hung there a few moments wondering if I would ever shut it again. I said, “Chickens?”

  Francis smiled, disconcerting on a vampire with those plastic-looking laugh-lines, but the smile was in his eyes, so I guess it was genuine enough. “It’s been a life-long dream. Once I joined the undead, I thought the dream lost. Vampires are not known to be ranchers. But I’m just not satisfied with life as it is and I want to make a change.”

  Now that fascinated me. I had to ask. “What are you going to do with the cows?”

  Rob scowled at me, but I pretended not to see. Hey, I was curious.

  “Whatever is normally done with cows. I’ll raise them for beef.” Francis spoke with that smooth knowledgeable affectation that most people take when they are pretending confidence they don’t have.

  I nodded without further comment. I wouldn’t cost Rob this commission even if he did make wild passionate love on my desk with someone else, leaving wolf hair and spots to show for it.

  Francis went on and on about his requirements, and I asked pertinent questions every now and then while writing everything down on a yellow pad. Rob did most of the interviewing. That’s what it’s like, interviewing for a perfect house. Our discussion went smoothly and Rob showed Francis a few properties online. A brown hair was stuck to the monitor, and I felt a wild giggle when Rob brushed it off, shuffling papers as he did so to draw attention to left hand while his right hand did the deed. To his credit, he didn’t even seem the slightest bit embarrassed.

  Chapter 3

  I knew better than to skip out on Grandma's dinner. I showed up promptly at five. Grandma opened the door with a welcome smile. “Jen, how good to see you. It’s been ages.” Our last dinner was two months ago. She opened her arms and gave me the standard family hug-greeting.

  I looked around the room with an internal sigh. Most of the family sat perched in the living room in a pre-dinner prelude to the torture some poor soul would later endure. I could only pray it wasn’t me. They took turns.

  “How are you?” That from cousin Nate.

  “Fine.” I tried not to smile sarcastically. I needed to practice my smiles in the mirror so I seem more genuine in my discomfort.

  My brother walked out of the kitchen, and I waited for the punch line. He always had one. “Hey, Jen, we got you some string cheese.” He tossed me the package. At least Mom put an end to the jokes about traps. I think she feared that one day my animal self would forget and take cheese from a trap or maybe just imagining me stuck to a tiny board with a broken neck was enough. Hey, I don’t carry the plague like some rodents I can mention.

  “Are you, like, ten? It’s not even funny anymore.” I hung my coat in the closet.

  Grandma never stepped in when Todd started in on me. Mom did in a passive kind of way. “You are too old to tease your sister.” Todd was a wolf, former basketball star, and he graduated summa cum laude with a business degree. I’m the mouse dropout of the family. Dad put an arm on Mom’s shoulders and looked disappointed. I’m hoping his disappointment was aimed at Todd.

  I once overheard Grandma’s lecture to my mother, and she clearly said that if my mom had conceived on the first night of the full moon, I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did. I was six. It didn’t take me long to realize why my family was ashamed of me. I made the childish mistake of talking about my were-animal with a couple of wolf-children down the street. After proudly telling them I was a mouse, the round of teasing lasted years.

  Just the other day, I saw one of those neighbor kids at the grocery store and ducked back down the aisle to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. I’m hoping they mostly got over it, but the humiliation still sticks with me. Most people think I’m a regular non-were human unless they smell the animal on me after the moon the way Rob did. And I’m happy to let them believe it.

  After a few minutes of getting reacquainted with the family, Grandma called dinnertime and we went into the dining hall to eat. The table we ate around was massive and the floor plans for Grandpa’s dream house were clearly built around the family’s need to entertain large family dinners. I think it’s a pack thing, and maybe that’s why I’m such a misfit. Everyone else seems to enjoy the get-togethers.

  Instead of grace, we go around the table youngest to oldest and say something we’re thankful for. My niece, Piper, started with innocent importance. “I’m grateful for my puppy, Truffles.” (The irony is that family pets tend to get along with weres although my brother was never allowed a cat or dog for obvious reasons. When I change, I’m not much larger than the average mouse.)

  And away we go. I’m fairly young in our family structure, so my turn came quickly. I froze. What am I grateful for? Two months ago I said my job, and while I could always repeat my answer, it wasn’t true anymore, was it?

  Todd tapped his fork on the plate. “Trick question? Hurry up, dinner’s getting cold
.”

  Annoyed, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Flannel pajamas.” I stared Todd down until his turn. He picked his girlfriend Camilla. A few congratulations from family members who were hearing about her for the first time and then the rest of the family finished the ritual. That ordeal over, we started eating.

  Most of the conversation revolved around Camilla and an invitation for her to join the next family dinner. I thought I’d gotten away free and clear until Grandma said. “So, Jen, have you found anyone to bring home to the family?” Grandma alternated between siblings.

  “No, no one special.” I hated the way everyone looked at me with pity. I have my flaws, but I’m all right. My face is pretty, even if I do shift into a mouse.

  Uncle Jack made things worse. “You don’t have to hide from us. There’s no shame in dating a non-shifter, as long as he’s good to you.”

  Good old Uncle Jack. He didn’t mean to dump propane onto a roaring fire, he just had a knack for explosive material.

  “I’m not embarrassed. I’m just not dating anyone.”

  Grandma started to argue with me, as if she knew. “Now, Jen, we're a family...”

  “I’m not…and for the record, I’m not embarrassed to be a mouse either. It’s not like I can help it.”

  The table grew quiet. The younger kids were looking around trying to figure out the silence. Between the plate staring contests and uncomfortable glances, I figure I finally brought the raw nerve out into the open. I’d spent so many years playing along, but I was tired of it. “May I be excused?”

  Those two seconds between asked and answered seemed an eternity. If I had stormed out without protocol, the next three years worth of gatherings would be filled with added innuendo and jokes, unless Todd miraculously grew up.

  While Grandma dished lemon meringue pie with slightly brown crusted tops, I washed the dinner dishes, scrubbing a little more dramatically than required. Putting a piece of lemon meringue aside for me, Grandma patted my shoulder. “You’ll find the right person when the time is right.”

  My sister, Andrea, brought in a few more plates and grabbed a towel to dry the ones I had already started. We hand-washed at Grandma’s house.

  “You’re being a bit oversensitive. Grandma asks everyone those questions.” She said in a low voice.

  “It’s different for you. You can give a running tally of your job and your husband’s accomplishments and your kid’s grade points. Mom and Dad should have stopped with you.”

  “Jen!” Andrea sounded truly horrified. Maybe she was.

  I shrugged and changed the subject. “Can I ask you something?”

  Andrea slid the plates into the cupboard. “Sure.”

  “Have you ever, you know, done it with a wolf in wolf form?”

  “Well, sure, that’s part of the experience.” Andrea tucked her hair behind her ear with a far-off smile, probably thinking of a few rolls in the grass.

  “What if you married a non-shifter? I mean with wolves being so..ummm.”

  Andrea laughed. “You should probably ask someone else. I’ve always been active on the full moon.”

  “Why is that? Is the desire really that bad?”

  “Yeah. Not all full moons, but during the spring, it’s hard. That’s why Mom and Dad were so careful with us at moon-time when we hit puberty.”

  “But a wolf wouldn’t force himself on another wolf, right?”

  “No, of course not. Unless they are human rapists. We’re still people underneath the fur. You know that. Believe me there are plenty of wolves willing, and when you find your mate, everything changes.”

  “How so? Don’t you worry that you’ll be cheated on with all of the hormones?” Again, thinking of Rob.

  Andrea shook her head. “The desire is focused on your mate. Werewolves don’t sleep around once they find the person they are meant to be with.” Andrea stopped drying and turned with a frown on her face. “Where is this coming from?”

  “Nowhere, I was just curious.” I twisted the dishrag and looked out the window.

  “You’re in love with a wolf!” Andrea grinned, her voice carrying outside the kitchen.

  “Shh…I am not.” I whispered. “I was just curious.”

  “Look,” Andrea pulled me close and put her mouth against my ear, whispering. “Don’t ever tell anyone I told you this, but there is a mix of herbs we can take to reduce desire during moon-times.”

  “Why is it a secret?” I whispered back.

  “Werewolves are supposed to run the pack and find their mate, but nowadays women have careers and don’t necessarily want to mate right away.”

  “I may be part of the family, but I’m not part of the pack.” I released the drain a little too hard and splashed water up. I’m twenty-four years old and this is the first time I've heard about how the full moon affects wolves and special herbs.

  “Maybe not pack, but you need to mate just like everyone else. Don’t think the interest stops when you get married, though. You know how it is.” Yes, I did. Like being a tiny bug in a giant spider’s web, and every strand tugged by a different member of the family.

  “Why didn’t anyone ever say anything? I’m just finding all this stuff out now?”

  Andrea bit her lip and smiled, a habit she had when something amused her. “You never really seemed to have the same problems other weres had. And you take everything so personally I don’t think anyone wanted to bring it up.”

  “I don’t.” My protests were loud enough to get the attention of the family and Andrea shushed me.

  “Come over tomorrow night and we’ll talk more.” Andrea glanced over her shoulder at the table. “Too many wolf ears. Yeah, that means you.” She said to Piper on her way back into the dining room. Piper giggled and squirmed.

  “What are you going to talk about Mama?”

  “Aunt Jen has some problems at work that we’re going to discuss.” She thought she was covering well for me, but I turned a deep red and gave myself away. Andrea saw my face and pressed her lips together with an impish grin.

  Chapter 4

  Another Monday reared its ugly head much sooner than I possibly could have imagined. Sometimes it feels like there are two Mondays in the week...they seem to come with such speed. My stomach was in knots when I showed up at the office. I'd been that way for a whole week.

  Andrea didn't help. I'm in love with him.

  Now I knew. That whole deep depression every time he cuddled up to a hot wolf was more related to my feelings for him than my own self-hatred. I dreaded work, not knowing what to say, dropping paper clips in mid-clip, spilling cocoa on the brand new keyboard, and in general turning red and blustery when Rob asked anything, which goes back to the not 'knowing what to say' part.

  I suppose I should have faced my feelings long ago.

  And here I was again, feeling awkward, and rather put out that a week had flashed by so quickly. In three more Mondays, I might get to experience the same joy of rebuilding the office. I thought of putting dog repellent at the entrance. I wondered if that stuff really worked. Of course, Rob would know not only what it was, but who was responsible for it. Not the best idea. But I needed a good idea and fast.

  “Morning Sunshine.” Rob strode into the office with laptop case in one hand and bag of doughnuts in the other. Did I mention how much I love him? He brings doughnuts when I'm down.

  Somehow my lips quirked up. Maybe I should have made him work for my good mood, but I'm just not that kind of person. I gave my best cheery greeting. “Good Morning.”

  This was the day that we were going to have it out. That brow of Rob's doesn't just furrow over anything. He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them up without a word. The last time he did that the conversation turned to the color pink. It sounds weird, but Rob asked me to please not wear a particular pink outfit, which is rather a personal request considering that he's my boss and believe me, there is nothing wrong with that outfit.

  Anyway, with
furrowed brow and unbuttoned sleeves, I wondered if this conversation would cover black pencil skirts or the awkwardness between us. I was betting on the awkwardness.

  “I thought maybe we could talk.” Rob said in the tone that conjured images of dental drills and bleeding ulcers. What he really meant was that he'd sit very still and wait until I spilled my innermost thoughts in the awkward silence.

  I tucked a strand of curly hair behind my ear and practiced my best Homecoming Princess smile. It was a dream I'd had once, to be popular and loved. I'd practiced in the mirror for weeks, just in case by some miracle I had been picked, but the pack ruled and queen and court were combination wolves and human.

  Not a mouse, raccoon, ferret, or porcupine to be found. If nothing else, I gained a killer smile, which came in handy at times like this. “Sure.” I said.

  “Okay.”

  Rob turned and walked into his office. Safe in my leather chair, hiding behind my rather spacious new guilt-purchased desk, I waited. He probably wanted me to follow him in, but I was just ornery enough to stay where I was. Boss or no boss, I needed a better work environment.

  When I didn't immediately follow him into his office, Rob rolled his chair out. A werewolf giving up the high ground, now that was something. If nothing else, Rob liked me well enough to keep me.

  “Look, I'm sorry about last week. If I could do it over, I would.”

  I wanted to say, “It's okay.” But it wasn't, or “You're forgiven” but for what? It's not like I was his girlfriend or wife or anything important in his life. I shrugged, “Bad timing.”

  “Bad timing? You've been tripping around me for a week. What is going on?”

  But he knew. I knew he knew. He knew he knew. He probably even knew I knew he knew. And now I was a little mouse running on a little wheel in my mind wondering if I could safely jump off. I love you, Rob? The funniest thing happened over the past few months...I fell in love. Hey, did you hear the one about the wolf and the mouse.