Blue Moon

by J. A. Belfield

  “I’m sorry …about yesterday.” He shrugged. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  I slid my hands into my pockets, pulling the coverall tight over my shoulders as I dug down. “So, you didn’t want to bring them home with you, then?”

  “Of course I did.” He raised his hands, showing his palms. “But I knew we’d probably get into trouble.”

  “But he wouldn’t listen?”

  He hesitated and shook his head.

  “Don’t you find that odd, Danny? Josh not listening to you over this?”

  Daniel shrugged.

  “Don’t you think there’s something off about her?”

  His gaze returned to me. “Actually, she seemed really nice, Jem.”

  My eyes narrowed, but I kept my scowl at bay.

  “Her sister seemed really nice, too.”

  I almost questioned how, if related to Marianne, how she could seem nice, let alone really nice. “Is she like Marianne?”

  “A little. In some ways.” He smiled. “Her mannerisms, some of the words she used were the same. But she was a nice girl.”

  I gave a nod, hopefully succeeding in hiding my disagreement. “What’s her name?”

  The green of his irises warmed. “Amber.”

  “And you had a good time with Amber?” As my frown tried to sneak in, I ran a hand over my brow.

  His smile suggested I hid it well. “Yeah, I did.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “You’ll see her again?”

  “We never got as far as talking about it.”

  Because of me? Maybe I’d scared them off. Perhaps they realised they’d bitten off more than they could chew once they saw the boys came as a package deal with the rest of us. Man, I sound selfish. I pushed the thoughts aside. “I’m really sorry, Danny.”

  He took a step forward. “Me, too.”

  I trampled through the spilt paint to cover the remaining ground, stretched up and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  Daniel offered a tight hug as he lifted me and pressed his face into my hair.

  “We okay?” I murmured.

  “We’ll always be okay.”

  Josh, though, would be a challenge.

  • • •

  It took much longer for Josh to come.

  To begin, I told myself his being the instigator had earned him a detainment by Nathan.

  Deep down, I knew he was probably too mad at me to apologise.

  Over an hour after Daniel had left me alone, Josh’s familiar footsteps entered the apartment. I put down my paint roller and turned.

  Josh came to a stop at a distance and rested his hands on his hips. Head hung low, muscular shoulders high and tense, he trained his sights on his work boots. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out gruff. Without awaiting a response from me, he spun and strode from the room.

  I frowned. “Josh?”

  He didn’t stop, not even a pause—just kept moving.

  I took a few steps. “Josh?”

  He reached the door to the outside hallway, rounded the frame and stormed off, his pace increasing as though to put distance between us.

  Disappointment swept through me, anguish, too. Beneath those, my temper brewed as I pursued. “Josh?”

  His palm pressed against the glass door at the main entrance, pushed it open. After a glare over his shoulder toward me, he marched off, leaving the door to swing shut in my face.

  Stunned, I watched him for seconds through the glass. Temper evaporated as a deep ache settled inside my chest, and a tear of desperation leaked out.

  Brushing at the liquid travelling over my cheek, I shoved through the door. “Josh?” I picked up my pace until almost at a jog to catch up with his long strides and tugged on his arm.

  He snatched it away.

  I grabbed it again.

  Josh growled at me.

  Darting forward, I raced round in front of him, blocking his path.

  He went to walk around me.

  I sidestepped to prevent him.

  “Move,” he said.

  Another tear pushed out as I shook my head.

  He stepped to the other side.

  Again, I moved into his path and stalled his escape.

  “Get out of my way.”

  I stood my ground.

  Josh grabbed my shoulders. A breath of relief shuddered from me—until his hold tightened, and he swung me from his path. “I’ve got nothing else to say to you, Jem.” He strode away again.

  I watched his receding back, swiping a hand over my eyes when my vision blurred.

  From one of the upstairs windows of the apartments, Ethan stared down, and I mentally willed him not to tell Sean.

  Ahead, Josh entered the cabin and sealed himself inside.

  Taking a deep breath, I marched over and let myself in.

  Josh stood in the coffee corner with his back to me, spooning sugar into a mug. He didn’t turn as I closed the door.

  “Josh?”

  No response, not even a grunt.

  Another tear escaped and trailed along the same route as the last few. “Josh?”

  Although he ignored me, the clang of the teaspoon against the side of the mug told me enough.

  “Josh?” I whispered. “Please . . .”

  “What, exactly, do you want from me, Jem?” His voice came out deep and measured.

  “I don’t . . .”

  “Nate told me to apologise. I did it. Now, what do you want?”

  “I—”

  “What am I supposed to do exactly?” As tension raised the set of his shoulders, his voice deepened further. He made a slow turn, his jaw tight and gaze burning. “I have feelings for a woman who belongs to someone else, and it’s wrong.” He waved his hands in my direction. “So, I show an interest in someone else, and . . .”

  “Josh?”

  “And it’s wrong,” he growled over me.

  I lifted a palm. “Listen . . .”

  “I go out on dates, and it’s wrong.”

  “Please, Josh . . .” Another tear fell.

  “I bring my date home with me, and it is wrong.” His volume increased with each word.

  I watched him through my abstracted vision.

  Josh’s hands fisted as he roared, “She gives me a fucking gift, and it’s wrong!”

  My own hands contracted but not from temper. My feet shuffled in a manic fashion, left and right, round and round on the hard floor beneath me as the shake of my shoulders affected my entire body.

  “I breathe. It’s wrong. I smile. It’s wrong. I try to get on with my life and meet someone new. I try to be happy, to do things that make me happy. And still, it’s fucking wrong. What, exactly, do you want from me, Jem? You don’t want me, but nobody else is having me either? Is that it?”

  I didn’t respond—could think of nothing to offer.

  “What?” he barked.

  My eyes blinked wide as my body jerked.

  “What is it, exactly, you expect from me?”

  I tried to murmur a sorry. Thanks to the tremble of my lips, it came out a small incoherent mumble.

  “I know.” He nodded as he perched on the desktop. “I know. How about you tell me what I’m allowed to do? Because I am obviously expected to dance to your bloody tune. So, come on. Tell me what you want.”

  My eyes had given up on their attempts to focus as I shook my head.

  “Tell me what you want from me.”

  I gave another head shake, jerked and robotic.

  “What? You’re not going to tell me?”

  I averted my eyes, aimed my fuzzy gaze at the floor.

  “Nothing then. That’s exactly what I thoug
ht.” He pushed to his feet, brushed past me and booted at the door three times until it bounced open.

  I tracked the sound of his receding footsteps—and heard his words when he spoke.

  “Hey, Marianne.”

  With a muffled growl of frustration, I shut the door.

  7

  The veneer of the desk did not make a good pillow, but hiding out came at a price, and lack of luxury seemed a small cost to pay. If Sean saw how upset Josh had made me, the distress would extend to more than just us. I refused to be responsible for a rift between him and Josh, too.

  The ring of my mobile disturbed my thoughts. Temptation to ignore it rose within me, but if it was Sean, and I didn’t answer, he’d come looking for me.

  It took effort to unfold my body from its crumpled position, to tug the phone from my pocket and check the display. Not Sean, but Jess, my sister.

  I hit connect and placed it to my ear. “Hello, Jess.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You called me, remember?” My voice sounded lacklustre, even to my own ears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  “I am at work. What’s wrong, Jem?”

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” I asked.

  “I’m a multitasker. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled.

  “Liar.”

  My sigh arrived heavy.

  “Come on, tell me. You sound about as happy as a slug beneath a pound of salt.”

  “I’ve fallen out with Josh.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s hardly the end of the world,” she said, faux chirpy.

  I sniffed at the snot clinging to my nostrils.

  When I gave no other response, she asked, “Okay, what did you fall out over?”

  “He’s got a girlfriend.”

  “Ah.” She paused, then, “Jealousy is such an ugly beast, though, Jem.”

  I scowled at yet another accusation. “I’m not jealous.”

  “Of course you’re not.”

  “Why would I be jealous? I’ve got Sean, for goodness sake.”

  “So, if not jealousy, what’s the true problem?”

  “I don’t trust her. She’s up to something, and Josh isn’t listening to me.”

  “Up to something, how?” Jess’s tone became serious as she entered ‘problem-solving’ mode.

  I breathed out a small huff. “Where would you like me to start?”

  “The beginning is probably best.”

  “Well, first she was spying on him, but pretended to be looking at the apartments . . .” I took a minute to explain Poppy’s and my initial encounter and impressions.

  “So Poppy doesn’t like her either?” Jess asked.

  “No.”

  “Hmm, Poppy’s usually on my wavelength in her opinions of people.”

  “I know.”

  “Is that it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not that fickle. What else has this girl done to annoy you?”

  “Josh took her on a date without telling me.” My voice rose in annoyance at the memory.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “I know . . .” The next few moments I spent recalling my reaction to Josh’s first date with Marianne, and how we’d made up—leaving out the part about Josh’s sort-of confession about his sort-of feelings for me.

  “Is that all?”

  “I wish.” I ran my hand over my forehead to smooth out the creases there. “She keeps turning up here. And she keeps bringing this crappy home-made herbal tea of hers. ‘I can’t stand the thought of you being cold, Josh’,” I mimicked in a Marianne-like squawk. “Josh hasn’t been cold since the day I met him.”

  “Herbal tea?” Jess asked. “Home-made?”

  I huffed down the line at her. “That’s what I said.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does hmm mean?”

  “I take it Josh has kept on seeing her from how upset you sound. What else has she done?”

  “Yeah, now she’s dragging Dan into it as well. She got him to double date with her sister on Sunday. And her bloody sister is like a mutant replica of her. So, now I have two of them to contend with, like mini-clones.”

  Jess snorted. “Mini-clowns?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Clones. But that’s not the only thing griping me.”

  “So, what is?”

  “Josh and I just had an almighty fight.

  “Why?”

  “Because he and Danny brought the girls home with them after their date—against pack rules. And I didn’t take it so well . . .”

  “Hmm-mm.”

  “Especially not when I saw some flipping bracelet on Josh’s wrist—some gift from his girlfriend.” My lip curled.

  “What sort of bracelet?” Jess’s all-business tone re-emerged.

  “Made from hair the exact same colour as Marianne’s, if you must know.”

  Static silence filled the line.

  My head tilted. “Jess?”

  No response.

  “Jess?”

  “Shush, I’m thinking.”

  My fingers drummed out a beat of impatience on the desktop as I slumped low in the swivel seat.

  “The tea?” she said at last.

  I straightened. “What about it?”

  “What does it smell of?”

  I screwed my eyes up in concentration. “I could smell woodiness in it, I guess.”

  “What else?” she said, her voice stern.

  My face tilted to the ceiling as I returned to thoughts of the tea. “Earthiness.”

  “Woody and earthy smells?”

  “Yes, Jess, but—”

  “Anything else? Liquorice? Can you smell any liquorice in there?”

  “I, um . . .” My mind reached into my memories, recapturing how disgusting the liquid had smelled. “Yes,” I said after a few seconds. “Now you mention it, I think I may have detected a hint of liquorice in there.”

  “Well, shit!”

  “What?”

  “Well …shit!” she said again.

  “Bloody what?”

  “How many flasks has Josh had?”

  Sirens began their tune of disquiet in my head. “None.” I think.

  Her heavily released breath buffeted against my ear. “Keep it that way.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Just make sure he doesn’t drink them.”

  “Jess, what’s wrong with the tea?”

  “I think this girl is binding him,” she said.

  My frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

  “It sounds like Josh has bagged himself a witch.”

  If the statement had come from anyone else, I’d have dismissed it. From Jess, however, who believed herself to be a reincarnated witch, and who I knew had creepy spell books stashed under her bed, the enlightenment didn’t sound quite so lame. I had little option but to take her seriously. “What the heck?”

  “And said witch is binding him,” Jess said.

  “What do you . . .” On the verge of repeating myself, illumination brightened my brain until it flickered into motion. “She’s binding him?”

  “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “How are the tea and bracelet going to do that?”

  “The drink sounds like a summoning tea, so she can command him to do her bidding. I’m not one hundred percent sure, so I’ll look into it further. But the bracelet being made of hair? That sounds like the same kind of binding that was performed for you and Sean.”

  My mouth opened and closed as I absorbed her words. “How could
you know anything about our binding ritual, Jess, if Sean and I can’t even remember it?”

  Silence, then, “Oh, well . . .”

  “Jess?”

  “Well …okay. Do you remember when you first told me about Nathan’s history lesson?”

  By history lesson, she actually meant when Nathan panicked me half to death by announcing my importance as the first ever female werewolf in werewolf history. My still being a mere human at that point helped my acceptance of the information not one bit. Of course I remembered it.

  I offered a hesitant, “Yes.”

  “And do you remember when you asked me to look it up and see if it was possible for two people to be bound for eternity, like Nathan claimed had happened to you and Sean?”

  Another hesitant, “Yes.”

  “And do you remember I asked if you wanted me to look up about the pack history regarding you, but you said not to bother because I wouldn’t find it, and I said I’d look anyway?”

  Something told me I wouldn’t like what Jess had to tell me, but I still answered, “Yes.”

  “Well, I looked. And you were right. I couldn’t find any pack recordings about you anywhere.”

  I expelled the breath I hadn’t realised I’d held. “I told you, you wouldn’t.”

  “I know. But there are recordings of you and Sean, Jem.”

  “What?” My whispered tone came out higher than intended. My throat did its little constricting trick—it had done that a lot since Marianne’s appearance.

  “I found recordings of your existence,” Jess continued, “of the two of you together. Well …I presume it was you two the information referred to, anyway. I mean, there’s only one recorded successful eternal binding spell, and that particular one states the binding was performed for two werewolves. So, I figure it had to be about you and Sean.”

  “But . . .” My jaw dropped and lifted to squish my lips together. “You never mentioned this.”

  “That’s because the only information I had then was that it had been done. I didn’t know how or for whom,” she said, her tone defensive. “But …since then, I’ve found more information.”

  “What? How? For goodness sake, where?”

  “Think about it. As far as your binding went, werewolves were not the only race involved.”

  I scrunched up my eyes. My temple throbbed. A wave of dizziness swept through me. “Witches,” I whispered. “Holy shit, Jess.”