Blood Moon

by KB Anne

  “You are Ryan. You love Lizzie. Scott and I are your best friends.” I’m not ready to let the beast take full possession of my friend.

  “You lie,” he snarls. His rotting breath wafts across the room. “You are my enemy. I must kill you.”

  I remain motionless, painfully aware that my life is in this creature’s hands. My heart pounds a drum roll in my chest as a reminder of my own mortality.

  Abruptly, the creature springs onto the table with teeth bared, transforming into an even more terrifying monster. I leap out of my chair and throw it at him, then sprint down the hallway to the stairs, hoping to lock myself in my room before he gets there.

  A blood-curdling howl shatters the silence as the wolf leaps from the table.

  Taking the stairs two by two, I strive to get away. Hot breath on the back of my neck tells me it’s only a matter of seconds before the beast tears me apart and everyone will finally realize that I am not Brigit, that I am nothing more than a foolish girl who mistakenly released a terrible monster and killed one of her best friends in the process. I propel myself forward as fast as I can go, but it’s not fast enough. Sharp claws swipe at my sides, trying to pull me back down the stairs. Blood seeps from the wounds, but instead of distracting the beast, it spurs him to move faster. Hot rancid breath burns my ears, and I know the end is coming soon. He will not stop until his bloodlust is sated.

  His teeth clamp down on my hood, knocking me down onto the remaining steps before he descends upon me.

  “Ryan, no!” I shout, clawing and kicking at him, but he’s too strong. Whatever once remained of my friend has disappeared. He throws back his head in a victorious celebration before his teeth prepare to clamp down on my throat.

  The end nears . . .

  And I welcome it.

  * * *

  A shot shatters the space between us. At the beast’s hesitation, I roll out of the way. He lands next to me, filling the span of stairs with his body.

  I lie beside him, trying to catch my breath, until I realize the steady rise and ebb of the heartbeat next to me is waning. A compelling need to help any injured creature overrides my sense of reason. The fur covering Ryan’s face recedes, and there, lying before me, is my dear friend. I lift his hand and smile down at him. “Hey.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mouths to me.

  “Is it still alive?”

  I peek over my shoulder to see Scott standing at the foot of the stairs with a gun in his hand. Wisps of smoke spiral out of the shaft.

  “Ryan is, but not for long,” I whisper. “You can come up. It’s okay.”

  When he sees Ryan’s fully revealed face, he sits down on the other side of him and takes hold of his hand.

  Ryan smiles weakly at him, but his life force is leaving him quickly. As it drains from his body, I become aware of someone else on the stairs with us.

  “He’s almost with me,” Lizzie whispers. Her excitement seeps into the world of the living, but I don’t share it. There is no victory in death. I hand Ryan’s hand to her.

  Scott watches the arm dangling in midair and jumps up. “Is that . . . is that who I think it is?”

  Lizzie winks at me.

  “She came for Ryan.”

  I lean down and kiss him on his forehead, which is still warm but won’t be for long. His face grows peaceful, and his body relaxes into the stairs. His spirit form rises from the lifeless body, no longer constrained by gravity.

  “Goodbye, Gigi, and thank you,” his spirit says. Then he gives Scott a giant bear hug. Tears stream down Scott’s face as he returns it.

  Lizzie touches my shoulder. “You have a long journey before you, but soon we will meet.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

  She smiles at me. “I didn’t.”

  Lizzie and Ryan descend the stairs. Dad, Amorin, and many of the coven members have congregated at the base of the stairs. Although there is a dead body in front of me and a dark pool of blood dripping down the steps, they possess expressions of sheer wonder as they observe us. I don’t know if they can see Lizzie and Ryan, but just as the spirits are about to pass directly through them, they step aside.

  As Lizzie and Ryan disappear through the front door, my attention returns to the lifeless form on the stairs. Scott sinks down onto the steps beside Ryan’s body. He can’t believe he killed his best friend.

  And that’s when reality hits . . . What will become of Scott?

  Lawyer buzzwords fly around in my brain.

  Brutal murder. Absolutely.

  In cold blood. What could be more terrible than shooting your best friend in the back?

  Premediated. Got that right. Silver bullets aren’t easy to come by.

  Unprovoked. Could probably argue that one, but who would believe us? There’s no evidence to prove our friend had become a werewolf. No evidence to even suggest he, in fact, was after me. Ready to kill me. The only proof of evil intention is the dead body on the floor and the smoking gun in Scott’s hand.

  Verdict: Guilty. That’s what the lawyers will call it. That’s what the jury will decide. And who can argue otherwise? The gun was in his hand. His best friend dead on the stairs beside him. They’ll call him a monster. Lock him away.

  My only consolation is that he will be protected behind strong steel bars. His prison cell will allow him to sleep without fear of retribution.

  I, on the other hand, may never sleep again, afraid the second I close my eyes my worst nightmare will come lurking on the other side of my pitifully weak wooden door.

  12

  Lies and Deceptions

  I didn’t agree with what they planned. I fought. I yelled, but they acted as they always do. Like I don’t have a say in the future. Like I don’t know what’s best for me—which I know is true. But the thing is, I know what’s best for Scott, and their brilliant plan isn’t it.

  Dad stands in front of his son with his phone in his hand. “Are you ready?”

  Scott nods then takes a double shot of whiskey. Jameson Irish Whiskey. The same type Breas and I drank, which led to yet another hookup. Some are addicted to pills. Some are addicted to illegal substances. I was addicted to Breas, until he broke the habit by leaving.

  I watch with growing apprehension as Dad dials 911. When the operator asks him what his emergency is, he says, “There’s been a terrible accident. Someone’s been shot. Send emergency services and the police right away.” After the operator confirms his address, he ends the call and pours Scott another double.

  Most of the coven members have left. Amorin and two other women remain to bear witness.

  All too soon, bright red and blue lights flood the living room as the ambulance and police cars pull in.

  “Scott, you don’t have to do this,” I whisper.

  “Yes, I do,” he says before taking another shot. “You’re my sister. I will protect you.”

  My fist slams into the wall. Why must everyone in my family be so stubborn? When do I get to take care of them? What am I going to do without Scott?

  Dad opens the door. The paramedics rush in with a stretcher. I step away from Ryan and let them attempt to resuscitate him. I know their efforts will be wasted, but it always makes people feel better if they know they’ve done everything they can to save someone.

  “Hello, Officer Smith, Officer Lamberton,” Dad says.

  “Why is it I’ve been to your residence more in one month than I’ve been to any other house in Vernal Falls in the past ten years?” Office Smith scratches his head.

  “I’ve asked myself that same question.”

  Officer Lamberton watches the paramedics work on Ryan. Finally, they shake their head. One of them says, “I’m calling it . . .”

  Officer Smith sighs and takes out his notepad. “What happened?”

  Scott stands up, sways back and forth, and collapses back into the sofa. He doesn’t need to act drunk. He is drunk. “Ryan and I were sneaking shots of whiskey in t
he kitchen when everyone else was outside at the bonfi-re. I told Ryan about this cool old gun Gram owns, and he wanted to see it. So, I showed him!”

  “Then what happened?” Officer Lamberton asks.

  “Whelp, we started playing a-round with it. Cops and robbers, and Ryan was the robber, so I chased him up the stairs. Then I tripped and shot him,” he whispers, sobbing to himself. No amount of alcohol can remove that sting.

  Officer Smith shoves the notebook back into his front shirt pocket. “We’ve got to take him down to the station, Mark.”

  “I know,” Dad says. “I’d like him locked up in one of those juvie programs.”

  “Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Officer Lamberton asks.

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t strict enough. Ryan paid for it with his life, and his parents will suffer from my lack of parenting.”

  Officer Smith hands Officer Lamberton the handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent . . .” he begins, and I fall into a blubbery mess. Amorin wraps his arms around me. Through swollen eyes, I watch as Scott is taken away in handcuffs, and Ryan leaves on a stretcher with a white sheet pulled over him.

  When will I get to save the ones I love?

  13

  Life Sucks

  All alone, I stare out the kitchen window. The full moon shines in the cloudless sky. The brightness spills into the room, a bitter reminder of its power and the terrible toll it exacted on my family. A lifetime of memories flash before me . . .

  My first ice cream sundae with Scott; my second-grade birthday party with Scott, Lizzie, and me in a pink princess dress with a matching party hat; sharing secrets with Lizzie, with Scott always close by; Gram kissing me good night; Gram knowing when I needed a hug; Gram, Gram, Gram . . . and the day Calliope betrayed us all. Instead of feeling joy or pain or anger, I feel nothing at all. I am too numb to feel ever again.

  Soft moccasins shuffle across the kitchen floor, sounding empty and lifeless. Dad flops down in a chair across from me, finally allowing the weight of the day to catch up with him. I pretend to be mesmerized by the knot on the table that has fascinated me as far back as I can remember.

  “How did Ryan get in here? I thought there were spells protecting the house.”

  Dad releases a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe werewolves are like vampires . . . once he’s welcomed in, he can come and go as he pleases. Or maybe the oak thresholds and doors don’t hold the same power over him because he’s been here so many times. Or since the back door was opened while we were putting new enchantments on, all the previous defenses were broken. We will never know how he got in.”

  I bite my lip, realizing the man with all the answers has none to give.

  “Gigi, do you want to talk about what happened?”

  I don’t know if he means Gram, Ryan, Scott, Lizzie, Clayone, or the whole goddess nonsense, but the answer is “No,” on all accounts.

  “In the morning, I need to go to the police station and the hospital to fill out some paperwork. Amorin will be around to keep you company. I just booked three seats on a flight to Ireland. We fly out at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Tomorrow? What about Gram’s funeral? What about Ryan’s? What about Scott?”

  He folds my hand into his. “Gigi, there’s no time left. We have less than thirty days to figure out how to protect you. We can’t risk staying in this house. The spells and enchantments are gone. You would be provided with no protection whatsoever.”

  “But how do you know? You don’t know for sure.”

  He sighs. “The truth is, much of the magic placed on the house remained in place because Gram lived here. She chose to never leave the property in order to ensure your protection. Think of it like a mist or a veil over the house and you. Now that she’s gone, the veil has lifted.”

  I jerk my hand away from him. “I don’t care about my protection. I care about Gram, Scott, and Ryan.”

  His eyes tear up. “I know you do, but Scott will be protected. The juvenile detention program lasts seven weeks. As for Gram and Ryan, there’s nothing more we can do here for them. Honor them by accepting your position.”

  I swipe at an errant tear. I will not be guilted into pretending to be a goddess in order to clear his conscience or anyone else’s.

  As I open my mouth, he raises his hand. “Regardless of what you believe, our best chance of honoring your grandmother and mother’s memory, to honor Lizzie and Ryan’s memory, to honor Scott, is to take every precaution necessary and protect you. Kildare, Ireland, is a long way off from Vernal Falls, Pennsylvania. Amorin lives in a small hamlet near Saint Brigit’s Cathedral. There isn’t a place on earth safer.”

  I’m about to argue, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to fight with you. I haven’t the strength left.”

  And that’s when I realize that I’m not the only one who has lost someone.

  14

  Journeys to Other Places

  The thought of entering the kitchen without Gram makes me sick. I thought a world without Lizzie in it was torturous enough, but with Ryan and Gram gone too, the end must be near. Without thinking about it, without intending to, I find myself at the ritual area behind the greenhouse. Amorin pokes at the remnants of the charred wood from the fire the night before.

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” I whisper.

  He raises a white, wiry eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

  “I want to visit the Otherworld.”

  “And so, we shall.” He tosses some bundles of dried herbs into the hot ashes. As if by magic, the flames spring back to life, devouring the herbs. Sage, sandalwood, frankincense, and rosemary release into the air and mix with the comforting smell of wood smoke. A sense of calmness settles over me as I prepare the ritual circle. Instead of reciting the incantation Dad taught me, I chant words that come to me as natural as breathing.

  To cast this circle from Earth to Fire, from Water to Air, join together with Spirit to guide me to the answers I seek. I give you my love, my light, to show me the path to truth.

  To the East, I give to you my love, my light, to show me the path to truth.

  To the South, I give to you my love, my light, to show me the path to truth.

  To the West, I give to you my love, my light, to show me the path to truth.

  To the North, I give to you my love, my light, to show me the path to truth.

  As I light the final candle casting the circle, electricity begins to surge through me. Breathing deeply, I focus my thoughts toward finding a way to protect Scott and rid the world of Clayone. A tingling sensation reaches down to my fingers and my toes as I’m transported to the place I visited while meditating with Scott the evening before. Instead of being abruptly jettisoned back to reality, I observe a place more beautiful than I can fathom, greener than anywhere I’ve ever been. Energy pulses around me as I observe the lush landscape. Emerald-green hills sprawl farther than my sight can reach. Sparkling blue-green streams form breathtaking waterfalls that cascade onto rocks glowing with a translucent quality to them. Magnificent flying creatures challenge my imagination into believing that maybe unicorns, fairies, and dragons really do exist. Without purposely taking a step, I move closer to the fairies flitting about on a large green bush. I float over the ground, no longer constrained by my human form. A freedom I’ve never felt before rises within me as I glide across the landscape surveying this magical place, the Otherworld.

  Brilliant rays of sunlight shine down from the heavens onto an enormous oak tree spanning several stories, it’s branches like fingers reaching out and touching the sky. I sweep across the field toward the tree and find a cobblestone path meandering down the steep slope.

  From above, I can see a rose garden in the distance, and I know that’s my destination. A complicated hedge maze of vibrant holly blocks my path. In the real world, corn mazes were the bane of my existence, but I don’t feel the least bit intimidated. Confidence grows within me where normally self-doubt takes root. Upon entering the labyrinth, I
take a right without hesitation. At each intersection I turn left or right without thinking about it. After dozens of turns, I enter the beautiful courtyard filled with roses. There’s a familiar worn garden bench off to the east side of the courtyard. I hurry over, hoping Gram will be there, but find only a dusty old book lying in the spot she normally sits. In disappointment, I pick it up. It reminds me of the old spell book I found in Gram’s attic, but this time I can read the title: Briguathe Grimoire. I look up and realize I’m back home with Amorin sitting opposite me.

  “Where was I?”

  His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Where do you think you were?”

  “I don’t know. A place I’ve never been before.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No . . . I’m not. There was a maze, a complicated maze that blocked my path, and somehow, I got through it. Like I knew which direction to head. Does that make sense?”

  “It makes perfect sense. Did you see anyone?”

  “No. I was hoping I’d see Gram. I did find an old book.”

  He leans in. “Oh?”

  “The title was Briguathe Grimoire. Do you know it?”

  He pulls at his beard thoughtfully. There is nothing I can do to speed up his response. He answers in his own due time, which pushes the boundaries of my patience. But I wait and wait, and hope, and . . .

  My god, I hope he freaking answers soon!

  And finally, after I’ve cycled through various types of torture that would get him to talk, he answers my question.

  “I am not familiar with the tome, but it possesses the information you need.”

  Shit. Way to pop my fucking high. What the hell am I going to do now?

  “Not to worry, Gigi, there are hundreds of annals that the monks and nuns wrote at Saint Brigit’s Cathedral in Kildare. I’m one of the curators of the Cathedral Library. I’ve no doubt your book is within its confines. Between the three of us, we’ll find it.” He stands up and puts his arm out for me. “Now, you must finish packing for your long journey.”