You’ve almost got him, I say to Ben. He’s more or less nipping at the wolf’s hind legs.
The cold night air burns my lungs, and my breaths exit my snout in small, white clouds. One might think my senses are completely up to par, but the fact of the matter is I never see the second wolf coming; it attacks me from my right. Where it came from, how it found us, I don’t really know. What I do know is that its fangs are firmly imbedded into my fur, and it’s not letting go anytime soon.
Candra, I’ve almost got him! Ben excitedly shouts. He doesn’t realize I’m somewhat preoccupied at the moment, which is why I don’t respond. Candra? I hear the panic in his voice, but it’s all I can do to fight off this rogue wolf. What bothers me the most is how I didn’t see or hear it coming. That frightens me. Candra! Where are you? I see straight through Ben’s vision, as he can with mine, and he’s stopped the chase to search for me. Hold tight, baby! I’m coming.
Well, this is embarrassing. My boyfriend has to aid me in thwarting off my assailant, when he should’ve been after that other wolf. Jeez, how many of them are there? Seems like these woods are infested, which doesn’t sounds familiar at all.
I pivot my head around swiftly enough to bite the wolf’s ear, and it emits a high-pitched yelp. Just as it goes for my skin again, Ben sideswipes it with a loud oomph. Both tumble and roll on the ground, through the leaves and twigs and dirt, flipping over each other a few times. I slowly stand on all fours, shaking off the slobber and blood coating my fur, thanks to Mystery Wolf over there, and join in on the social gathering. Ben’s too busy taking his rage out on the midnight creature. I guess he doesn’t like anybody messing with his girl. This makes me smile inside.
Ben, for God’s sake, don’t kill the poor thing.
I’m going to rip it to shreds for touching you! he exclaims. Yeah, I totally called that one.
We need to find out who it is and what it wants, but we need it alive to do that.
Finally seeing past his anger, Ben pins the wolf to the forest floor as I approach. I can’t help but notice the fury in the wolf’s eyes as I stand over it. Apparently, it didn’t see Ben coming, just like I didn’t see it. Completely caught off-guard.
How are we going to do this? Question it, I mean. We can’t drag it back to the barn, and we can’t stand here naked, in the cold, interrogating it.
Ben releases a low growl. I don’t know, Candra. We didn’t exactly think this through before you performed a peep show and took off after the first wolf. But if this means I stand here all night, then so be it.
Don’t be silly. It’s freezing out here, and besides, what if that other wolf comes back?
Then take care of it yourself. His eyes cut into mine and weigh me down with their glare.
I sure as hell didn’t ask him to stop chasing the other wolf so he could fight this one off of me. Now he’s pissed? Like this is my fault . . . Whatever.
Looks like we don’t have much of a choice. We need to get it out of these woods and back to the farmland so we can shift.
And if it doesn’t cooperate, if it doesn’t shift like us? What then?
Fiercely glowering at him, I say, Do you have a better idea, or am I the one making all the decisions now?
Ben tersely removes his paw from the wolf’s side and jerks his head in the direction we came from, hoping the wolf will catch the message. Gradually, the wolf rises to all fours and shakes itself off. But just as we’re about to head back, a black mist, like a fog settling over a lake, rolls in from all around us. I step back a few feet, unsure of what this mist is, or what it might do. Ben does the same.
I have a bad feeling about this, I say.
Ben concentrates on the shady vapor swirling around his legs. Candra, we have to get out of here. This is black magic, darker than anything my family or our Followers ever used.
Hearing his words, my body doesn’t react right away. Instead, I’m too busy eyeing the wolf before us, to which the dark mist is headed. It’s like the wolf is a giant vacuum, and it’s sucking all the fog from the forest. Maybe even the surrounding village and countryside.
Candra, run! We have to get out now!
Ben bounds over and nudges me with his snout, pushing me toward the route we came from. But, me being me, I’m utterly fascinated by this wolf, who holds so much power. Where did it get its abilities? There had to be an original source.
Just like that, I realize my mission for this trip—to find out where the earliest werewolf came from, and how it got its magic. My gut is telling me there’s more to Alaric than meets the eye. It’s also telling me the wolf standing directly ahead isn’t Alaric. And if that’s the case, then who the hell is it?
As the dark fog disappears all around us, the wolf soaks it up. The mist swirls around and around the body of the wolf, and the wolf leisurely rises to stand on its back legs. Ben and I observe the wolf transform into a human, though we can’t see the face because the black vapor swallows it whole. The body is definitely that of a woman, so no Alaric here.
Who is she? I distractedly think aloud.
Ben barely shakes his head. I have no idea, but I think there’s more going on here than we originally thought.
The woman’s voice emanates from the dark blur surrounding her, and the sound echoes itself. “The source for which ye seek this magic is nearer than ye think. Be forewarned, young ones, solving the mystery shall come with a price, one which neither of ye are ready to pay.”
She grabs hold of the shadowy veil, as if it’s a cape, and twirls once, exploding into hundreds of black crows. They circle us overhead like vultures over a carcass, cawing incessantly, then nosedive directly at us, so quickly Ben and I don’t have time to react. The explosion when they hit the ground is the last thing I remember, before the darkness settles over me like an icy blanket.
Chapter Three
When I awaken, I’m not lying in the forest, amid the trees and dirt, like I thought; I’m back in the barn, in my clothes, wrapped in a warm, snuggly blanket. The hay scratches my cheek and itches, but it’s better than freezing my naked ass off. Glancing up, I catch sight of Ben, who sits at my feet and is watching me closely.
“Hey,” I murmur.
He smiles. “Welcome back, Princess.”
I smirk and look up at the rafters in the barn, contemplating last night’s events. Maybe it was a stupid idea for me to run off like that, after a wolf we know nothing about. We still don’t. All we’re sure of is that the wolf’s sidekick is some woman, who can turn into a flock of angry birds and summon black fog.
“I know what you’re thinking,” says Ben.
“Of course you do. We’re marked.”
He grins, but in his eyes, he looks exhausted. “That’s not what I meant.” He goes on, “I can’t stop thinking about last night; it was a little too weird for me. I’ve seen some strange shit in my day, but this doesn’t even come close. The magic she used is powerful. My family would love it; it’s what they ultimately want.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees and rubbing his hands together. “But what she said about us finding the original Ancient, the first person who conjured this magic, is what’s bothering me. What’s the price we have to pay? And why aren’t we ready? None of this makes any sense.”
I gulp away the knot in my throat. “What if all of this was a trap? What if Alaric knew we couldn’t handle the magic in this time period? He’s probably laughing somewhere in the future, wherever it was we dropped him off.”
“It’s like a bad dream I can’t wake up from,” says Ben. He stands up, walks a few steps, and lies down next to me. I share the blanket with him, and nuzzle up against his neck, entirely content for now.
“Where’d you get this?” I inquire, lifting the cover a tiny bit.
Ben chuckles. “It’s a horse blanket.”
I bolt upright. “What? Ew. Gross.”
“Hush. It’s better than freezing our asses off.” He tugs me down next to him again. “You know, we still need a plan.
”
“Like, how not to piss off an Ancient, yet still be able to figure out who they are?”
Ben grunts. “Yeah, something like that.”
“We’ll just have to keep an eye out for anything unusual—behavior, people unaccounted for, strange occurrences, etcetera. But first, we need clothes to blend in with the rest of civilization, and food.” He rubs my side, which is slowly lulling me to sleep. I close my eyes and snuggle closer to him, half my body on top of his. “I’m so calm right now, I don’t even want to get up and do anything.”
“Okay, how about we take a nap, and then we can figure our next course of action?” he suggests.
I grin. “Sounds fantastic.”
Later, after we’ve rested, Ben and I wander toward the heart of Colchester. We’re still not entirely certain what we’ll do without money, but I’m sure we’ll figure out something. We need to blend in, not cause a scene. So Ben gets this bright idea of offering our services—cooking, cleaning, whatever—in exchange for clothing. Of course, everybody in this time period sews outfits by hand, and obviously Ben and I don’t have the knowledge or the means to do so. Luckily for us, the woman who owns the fabric store, Fiona, is kind enough to take us up on our proposal, though she never questions why we’re dressed the way we are.
“Ye can start right away,” she says. A tendril of brunette hair dangles in front of her face, having loosened itself from her bun, and she hastily tucks it behind her ear. “I need the floors swept, the materials organized, and the inventory inspected.”
Oh, inventory . . . I can do that. It reminds me of working at Livia’s Corner Closet with Jana, where she and I stocked clothing and checked inventory all the time. The brief thought of Jana makes me homesick, though. I wonder what she, Blake, and the others are doing at this exact moment.
You can’t think like that, Candra, Ben says, interrupting my thoughts. Whatever happens in the future depends on us and what we find out within the next few weeks or so. But we have to play our cards carefully.
Ignoring Ben, I tell Fiona, “I’ll be happy to help with the inventory.” She raises an eyebrow inquiringly. “I helped at another . . . fabric store in my old town, so I have experience.”
“Well, that settles it, then. And ye?” She pointedly eyes Ben. “What are ye good at?”
“Uh,” Ben falters, “I can sweep the floors, I guess.”
“’Tis not a man’s job to clean, ye know,” Fiona explains. She narrows her eyes. “Word on the street is the two of ye are not from around here. Thy clothes are unlike anything I have seen before. Is this”—she gestures toward our attire—“a new fashion elsewhere?”
“You could say that,” I respond.
She steps closer to me, observing my face suspiciously. “And thy language is unique, as well. Also naught I am familiar with.”
Ben clears his throat. “Well, that’s just how we speak back home.”
Fiona turns her attention to Ben. “And where is thy home?”
He and I exchange a cautious glance. We can easily step on peoples’ toes around here and get caught. That’s not something which needs to happen. Like Ben said before, we have to play our cards carefully.
Ben replies, “Connecticut.”
Fiona ponders his response, then says, “My ears have not heard of thy land. ’Tis near England?”
Shaking his head, Ben answers, “No, our land is far, far away.”
“I see,” says Fiona. “Then, how did the two of ye arrive here?”
“We just sort of . . . dropped in for a visit. We heard England is a nice place. I hope Colchester’s citizens will prove this to be true,” I say, wishing this woman will end her grilling. I’m sure all of Colchester is dying to know who we are and where we originated from, but the less they know, the better. We can’t have these people submerging their noses in our business; it’s too risky.
“Aye, of course we will. Ye shall see our kindness thyself, just ye wait,” Fiona says eventually. “Allow me to gather thy measurements first, and then ye can proceed with tidying this place up.”
True to her word, Fiona takes Ben and me into a back room of the charming boutique and calculates our sizes. I have no idea what mine is, especially in this day and age, but I’m willing to bet it’s nothing like the size I sport in my world. The strange part will be when Ben and I have to actually wear these new clothes. Let’s get one thing straight: I know nothing about corsets and skirts. I haven’t worn dresses since my mom used me as her personal baby doll when I was, like, five or six. Once I had a mind of my own, I was dead-set on being the neighborhood tomboy.
“That should do,” Fiona says, as she finishes with Ben. “Candra, ye can stay here and I shall show ye the inventory. Benjamin, the broom is in the front of the shop, alongside the entrance.”
“Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to,” I tell her.
Her cheeks actually flush a rosy red. “’Tis the least I could do since ye are destitute travelers. I will say, I am envious ye are able to traverse different countries. It has always been my dream.”
“Well, maybe one day you’ll see your dream come true,” I say. “And maybe somebody out there in the world will be as kindhearted to you as you have been to us. You know, good karma and all that.”
Fiona’s eyebrows crumple together. “Karma?”
Ben pipes up. “It’s the universe making sure people get what they deserve, which means you’ll have something nice happen to you for helping the two of us.”
Fiona considers this for a moment, then smiles. “That sounds lovely.”
Counting inventory and sweeping the entire boutique doesn’t take long for Ben and me. As a matter of fact, we complete our jobs and then some before the day is finished. In the meantime, Fiona and her helpers labor intensively in the back room over our new clothing, certain they will have the project finished by tomorrow.
As the sun sets on another day, I realize Ben and I haven’t made much progress toward our ultimate goal—finding Alaric, Ulric, and Daciana, and stopping the curse. Should we encounter another witchy werewolf in the near future, though, I’m not entirely sure I want to find our ancestors. Not only is it creepy, it’s just downright bizarre. Since when does a person go from transforming into a werewolf to transforming into birds? If I had a power like that, I’d definitely screw it up, possibly turning myself into a flock of geese rather than sinister crows.
And if what Ben said is true, if the abilities used are far greater than anything his family conjured back in Hartford, we’re royally screwed. We can’t even begin to comprehend magic this dark, let alone try to stop it from ever happening. There’s only one option to take at this point: blend in with the rest of Colchester and see if we can find anything abnormal. Maybe we can locate Alaric and the others, follow them to wherever they live, unearth whoever is using the magic, and then figure out a way to stop them from ever causing this curse.
Before we end their practices, though, Ben and I need to figure out a way to get back home. I’m afraid they’re powerful enough to revoke our magical capabilities, and if they do, they’ll revoke all access to the past, present, and future. Which means Ben and I are stuck in the sixteenth century until we’re dead, and that’s undeniably not something I wish to think about.
Fiona’s employees have left for the evening, and Ben and I join Fiona as she locks up her shop. She turns around to face us, seemingly happy with the day’s work.
“Ye toiled with many chores today, and ye went beyond what I asked,” says Fiona. “Gratitude for thy help.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Ben says. “If you need anything repaired, or need anything else cleaned, let us know.”
Fiona smiles and nods, but then her features shift into serious mode. “I do not mean to trouble ye, but where are ye staying? A room at Murdock’s, perhaps?”
Ben and I exchange glances. This isn’t something we discussed, should we be asked.
“Um,” I begin, deciding that, since I gave
a lecture about karma, it’s best to speak the truth, “we’re sleeping in a barn near the forest.” I point toward the horizon, where the countryside meets the densely-wooded area.
Fiona gasps, but collects herself, holding one hand atop her heart. “Nobody goes into the dark forest.”
Talk about theatrics! This lady can pass as an actress.
“And why not?” I try not to smirk, but this melodramatic performance is making it very hard not to be amused.
Expressionless, she says, “Because nobody comes out alive.”
Okay, seriously? If I hadn’t experienced the crazy witch-wolf last night, I wouldn’t believe her. This reminds me of those creepy movies where everybody tells the newcomers not to enter a specific vicinity, and then they do it anyway, only to discover they should’ve listened. Except, in mine and Ben’s case, we already know the dangers that lurk behind the wall of trees. Still, I pretend I have no idea what Fiona’s talking about.
I feign shock: eyes widen, mouth slackens, my hand mimics Fiona’s, which remains on her chest. “They all just . . . die? What, exactly, is in there?”
Cute, Princess. Really freaking cute, says Ben.
Shut it! She’s been nice to us so far, and she’s our only chance at surviving this place, so unless you have a better idea . . .
“The two of ye should join me for supper. I shall explain everything over hot fare—and we can get ye washed up. Come,” she says, using one hand to gently press between my shoulder blades and push me toward her home.
See, I enlighten Ben, she wants to help us. HOT FOOD, Ben, hot food! I’m so hungry and my stomach has been growling all day and . . . and . . .
All right, Candra, I get it. Mine has, too. The berries obviously weren’t enough.
Say it, then. Say, “You were right and I was wrong.”
No.
Ben!
“—are ye betrothed? Married?” Fiona says, yanking me out of my mental conversation with Mr. Sore Loser over here.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The two of ye,” Fiona repeats, “are ye betrothed? Or are ye married?”
Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) Page 2