Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  I roll my eyes and snap my fingers a couple of times. “Focus. Their fate,” I say, pointing at the house, “rests in our hands. We have to keep ourselves in check.”

  Ben shoots me an annoyed glare. “I wasn’t going to chicken out, if that’s what you’re saying. I just meant this is pretty fucking surreal at the moment. Like, our past meets our future at the same time, and they won’t even know it. If that doesn’t count as a mind fuck, I don’t know what does.”

  “Yeah, I’ve reached my daily limit for cerebral fornications. C’mon, we have work to do.”

  Ben motions toward the front door. “After you.”

  I stomp up the steps first, and then rap three times on the door. Idly, I run my fingers over the indentations on the wood. Had we not been on the road here, I hate to think what would’ve happened to them. Would the werewolf have continued its assault until it broke through the paneling? Would it have cornered them, possibly ripped them apart, limb by limb? I shudder.

  The door slowly creaks open, and the woman on the other side is none other than the bitch I had words with at Fiona’s. I’ll be damned.

  “Thou art not welcome here,” she says pointedly.

  “You see, that’s the thing. I think you need our help.”

  Cautiously eyeing the two of us, she asks, “And why would thou think such a thing?”

  Ben says, “We know about your wolf problem, and we’ve come to lend a hand.”

  Her eyes enlarge, then progressively contract. “We are just fine without thee.” She begins closing the door, ready to shut it in our faces, but I jam my foot in the crack before she can seal it.

  “Listen, you crazy woman, if I have to fight you, I swear I will. It’s nothing to me to punch you in the face and knock some sense into that thick skull of yours. We’re helping, whether you like it or not. You need us.”

  She huffs. “I need naught from thee! Leave now!”

  “I don’t think so,” Ben growls. He rams the door with his shoulder, nearly causing the woman to fall down. While he virtually foams at the mouth, and I try my best to calm him down.

  Easy, tiger. Let’s not scare them just yet. We have to be civil for this to work.

  Screw what’s correct. If they’re going to listen to us, we have to be aggressive.

  I sigh. Totally unnecessary. Watch. Taking a couple of steps forward, I say, “I’m sorry about all of this, but I want you to know we’re not here to harm you. I’m sure you’re frightened. I would be, too. I’m Candra, by the way. Candra Low—” I catch myself before I make a big mistake. “Candra Lowry.”

  Pulling herself together, the woman says, “And I am Daciana Lowell.”

  I knew it, I think.

  You should just call her great-grandma, you know, Ben adds.

  I smack his arm for the internal monologue he provided, but Daciana doesn’t need to know that. “Apologize,” I tell him, making up an excuse.

  “For what?”

  “For busting through the front door uninvited.”

  Though reluctant at first, Ben resigns. “I’m sorry.”

  I face Daciana again. “You have to understand this is for your own good”—I peer around, noticing she’s alone—“and the good of the man we saw you with earlier. Where is he, anyway?”

  “He is ensuring the doors and windows are securely fastened,” she replies. Jutting her nose in the air, she says, “If we plan on working together to rid this town of the wolf, then I suggest we begin by acquainting ourselves.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I say. God, I can’t believe I’m concurring with her at all, the crazy lady who has a knack for making others feel like shit. But if this is the path to Ben and I gaining her trust, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes to go the distance.

  Daciana leads us down a long, dim hallway. No candles are lit, and even though it’s late afternoon, light is few and far between. Turning the corner to our left, the passage abruptly ends just ahead. Daciana opens one of the last doors, and we enter a room fit for a king. At least, that’s what I think. Numerous elegant chairs and mahogany tables adorn the room, and antique tapestries and artwork hang on the walls. The coffered ceiling is hand-painted; cherubs and angels keep each other company while playing musical instruments.

  Across the room, a single candle is lit, and Daciana uses it to light the others in the room. When she finishes, a soft glow emanates from every corner. Suddenly, I do feel as if I’m in the sixteenth century. No electricity. No technological hoopla. Just books read by candlelight, and people who enjoy being in the company of others. Life was simple back then.

  “I shall fetch Ulric so we may sit down and have a civilized discussion,” says Daciana. As soon as she leaves us, Ben and I stand in amazement at how beautiful the décor is.

  “So . . . she’s rich, I’ll give her that,” Ben states, staring upward at the painted ceiling. “The question is”—he glances at me—“are they already under the curse, or has it not taken effect yet?”

  “I’d say they’re normal right now. I mean, they wouldn’t have a werewolf after them if they weren’t. They’d be able to defend themselves, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he responds, inattentively. “But I’m curious as to why that wolf is after them in the first place. What does it want?”

  Both Ulric and Daciana enter the room.

  “I guess we’re about to find out,” I mumble, so only Ben hears me.

  Ulric observes us inquisitively, as if we’re rare pieces of artwork he’s about to spend lots of money on and he’s not certain he wants to buy. Although our attire is fitting for the sixteenth century, our lingo isn’t. Neither is our hair nor the way we carry ourselves. Everything about Ben and me screams, We’re not from here!

  “To what do we owe this pleasure?” Ulric inquires, still keeping a safe distance.

  Daciana gestures toward the chairs nearby, and we all sit in preparation of a severe chat.

  Ben takes the reins on the conversation. “We’d like to discuss the wolf, which is after you. There are other important topics, and, honestly, I don’t know where to begin. I guess I’ll start by asking if either of you two know why the creature wants to attack you.”

  A fleeting look passes between Ulric and Daciana, and Daciana is the first to speak.

  “When I traveled with my parents from London, we stopped at an inn for the night. The wolf was there, outside my window, but far enough away that it did not see me at first. ’Twas not until it charged at some drunken fools that I yelled. That is the moment it saw me. Just . . . raised its glowing eyes and peered into my soul.” She visibly shudders and closes her eyelids as she recalls the incident. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “The men never noticed me, but somehow I scared the wolf away. Even though I was terrified of what I witnessed, I reminded myself afterward that I saved those men. They would be dead had I not shouted.”

  “When you say you scared it off, what do you mean?” I ask. “Where did it go?”

  “It returned to the forest.”

  “And that was the only time you came in contact with the wolf before today?”

  “Aye,” Daciana responds.

  I nod sympathetically and direct my attention to Ulric. “What about you? Have you seen the wolf before today?”

  “I have,” Ulric says. “’Twas a night not so long ago, when I was in my cottage. I was restless and sought fresh air. That was the time I observed it first. It seemed to be looking for something, or someone. Another cottage sits nearby, but ’twas not concerned in the least bit with that dwelling. It then turned its enormous head toward our home and met my eyes. I felt as if . . . as if I could not breathe. As if it sucked the very air from my lungs.” Ulric is visibly shaken by the event, and his eyes dart around the room at nothing in particular, almost like he’s reliving the horror again. “It came at me, and I boarded up my room, and my brother’s. I checked the lock across the front entrance. Once I knew all was safe and secure, I returned to my window, where I sat, waiting
for the creature of darkness to burst through at any moment.”

  “And did it?” Ben questions.

  Ulric shakes his head. “Nay, my eyes did not see it again until this very day.”

  Ben sends me a sidelong gaze, expressing concern. His interest returns to our long-lost family members. “Neither of you have any clue as to why this wolf is following you?”

  They deny any knowledge of the why’s or how’s, which only causes more uneasiness. Here we are, facing our ancient flesh and blood, and they are absolutely petrified. They don’t know why a werewolf is after them. They don’t even know that it is a werewolf. All they know is that some wild, rabid, ginormous wolf has a vendetta.

  “This might sound a bit crazy,” Ben says, “but do you know anybody around here who has a hand in the dark arts?”

  “As in . . . magic?” questions Daciana. She furrows her eyebrows, mystified. “Does such a thing exist?”

  “Oh, it exists all right,” I say. “It’s all over the place where we come from.”

  Though he’s a little timid, Ulric exhales a weighty breath. “There . . . might be someone in Colchester, but this person, for the most part, is respected by many. Should thy accusations fall on suspicious ears, her life will be forever changed, and her reputation will suffer greatly.”

  “Who is she?” Ben asks. “Are you friends with her?”

  “I am afraid I am not,” Ulric replies. “However, my brother, Alaric, and this woman are quite familiar.” He smirks while voicing the last part. Collecting his self, he says, “Ah, ye want her name. I shall give it to ye, but ye must promise me one thing.”

  “What?” Ben and I inquire in unison.

  “Ye must never, ever speak of the conversation we had this day, and ye must never, ever bring Daciana, Alaric, or me into thy feud. Whatever comes of thy allegations, our hands are washed clean.”

  “Done,” I say, before Ben has a chance to respond.

  Ulric inhales a shaky lungful of air, then discloses, “In town, she is known as the herb witch, but her true name is Lavenia.”

  Chapter Six

  Since Ulric made us promise we won’t involve him, Alaric, or Daciana, Ben and I are on our own as far as finding this Lavenia chick. We trek back to town, always keeping a wary glance over our shoulders to ensure the werewolf doesn’t sneak up on us. I guess that crazy woman in the forest really did a number on the wolf, though, because we arrive safely and without incident.

  Most of the shops have closed for the evening, the patrons and owners calling it a day. Even Fiona’s boutique is locked. The only noise coming from the village is that of music and raucous chattering at Murdock’s Inn. I’m beginning to think the citizens have the right idea: drinking away their problems after a hard day’s work. If Ben and I had money, that’s almost certainly were we’d end up.

  “Fiona’s probably wondering where we are,” I say, lifting my skirts as we traipse across the mucky main road.

  Ben’s stomach growls. Patting his belly, he says, “I hope we haven’t missed dinner. I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, being chased by a werewolf is quite the workout,” I respond, “and walking in these damn heels isn’t much better.”

  Smirking, Ben says, “Maybe if you wore heels more often, your feet wouldn’t hurt as much.”

  “Maybe you should keep your mouth shut before I take one off and stab you with it.”

  He narrows his eyes. “So violent and angry.”

  “Yeah, well, if I wasn’t so stressed out, I wouldn’t be.”

  Ben scoffs. “Poor baby.” I jerk my head toward him and scowl. Undeterred, he continues mocking me. “I know just the thing to relieve stress.”

  “Oh, God. I probably don’t want to know.”

  With a mischievous look, he hooks one arm around my waist, tugging me closer to him. Lowering his head, he whispers in my ear, “A nice, hot bath.”

  My insides ripple with pleasure, and several heartbeats pass before my mind can process words. Then I realize how much of a game this is, so I shove him. “You’re doing this to me on purpose,” I say. My throat feels like someone suctioned out all the saliva.

  His pearly whites gleam as he smiles proudly. “That I am, Princess.”

  I kick at a clump of mud, sending it flying onto the side of a building, where it sticks. Ben’s chuckling wards off my punting another pile of wet dirt for the moment, but that only lasts until I see the next cluster. He laughs noisily as the clomp hits the side of a shop.

  “Careful, Ben,” I caution, “the next thing my shoe will meet is you.”

  Though his cackling dies down, it doesn’t stop altogether. “Oh, I’d love to see you try, Princess.”

  I circle in front, causing him to stop, so I can challenge him. “Are you forgetting what happened with Cameron?”

  “Are you forgetting I’m stronger than you, that I’ve been a werewolf a lot longer, and that I’m a dude?”

  Eyes constricted, I ask, “And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?”

  “That I could take you.” He shrugs. “What else?”

  “You know, if it wasn’t so muddy right here, I’d consider your offer.”

  Throwing his head back in amusement, he resumes the conversation seconds later. “And you would lose, Princess. Hate to break it to you.”

  I open my mouth to argue how wrong he is, but change my mind. “Whatever. I’ll catch you off-guard one of these days, when you least expect it.”

  He ambles over to me, leans in so close our noses almost touch, and says, “I’m always on the lookout. There’s never a moment that goes by where I don’t clad an invisible suit of armor, or have a giant brick wall built, fortifying my mind, heart, and body.”

  Confrontation aside, I contemplate what he just told me. I’ll be honest: my feelings are a little hurt. Why does he need to keep a metaphorical brick wall up, especially when he’s around me? That doesn’t make any sense. Thinking about his words, my heart melts into a pile of mush, liquefying, dropping into my stomach as one big, fat glob of emptiness. Fortunately, I’m able to black out my mental opinions so he can’t recognize he’s deeply upset me.

  “Let’s just go,” I say, defeated.

  “What, you suddenly don’t want to kick my ass?” He thinks this is highly amusing, judging by the grin on his face.

  I begin walking and disregard him. We need to keep our heads in the game if we want to return to Hartford, not stand here and argue over who has the upper hand in fights. With the newest information Ulric and Daciana revealed to us, we have a long journey ahead, one riddled with complexities and danger. Should we stray from our original plan, what we came here for, our futures will become completely nonexistent, including the future lives of those we love.

  Unexpectedly, Ben rushes up from behind, enclosing my waist with his arms and stopping me in my tracks. “Hey,” he murmurs against my hair, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just messing around.”

  “It’s nothing,” I say, waving him off. My attempt to squirm out of his grasp doesn’t work, as he decides it’s best to hold me in place.

  “Friends?” he jokes.

  I can’t help but smile. “Yes, Ben, we’re still friends.”

  “Pinky promise?”

  “Oh, my God. Stop. No.”

  His chuckle is deep and husky. “Fine, then. Have it your way.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  Nodding, he replies, “Yes, Princess, you do.”

  We resume our trip to Fiona’s house, where she’s undoubtedly wondering where we disappeared to. I hate to assume she’s made dinner and it’s sitting on the table, cold from the lack of our presence. These people work hard enough as it is. Coming home at night and managing cooking is just another chore in their lives. There are no microwaves or ovens, only food straight from their backyards and meals prepared with kindness.

  Not surprisingly, Ben and I open the front door and are met with the scent of warm bread and an aromatic stew bubbling in a large pot
over the hearth. Fiona and Francine’s wooden bowls sit in front of them at the table, half-full of whatever concoction Fiona created before we arrived.

  “I’m so sorry we’re late,” I say, as Ben closes the door behind us. “We were sidetracked with sightseeing both the town and the fringes.”

  Although Fiona smiles, there’s no twinkle in her eyes telling me it’s okay to show up at whatever time works to our advantage. “No matter. Did the two of ye have a pleasant time?”

  “We did,” I reply, “and we’ll be sure to make this up to you.”

  She dismisses my offer with a wave of her hand. “No need. As long as ye arrive safe and sound before evening, all is well. There are too many strange happenings in the forest of late, and I would not wish for anyone to be near that region.” Curling her lips, she adds, “Come now, sit and eat.” She stands and walks over to the blazing hearth, ladling out large portions of stew into our bowls, while Ben and I seat ourselves. Francine has yet to say a word.

  With fresh, piping-hot food before us, we happily dig in. Going an entire day without food is not what I’m used to. Normally, Beth prepares both breakfast and dinner. I can skip lunch without a problem, but that’s only because I’m full from eating scrambled eggs and pan-fried bacon. Sadly, I miss her, just as I miss Randy, my parents, Jana, and Blake. My throat tightens, and I nearly choke on my supper thinking of the fond memories I shared with loved ones not so long ago.

  “Do either of ye have plans tomorrow?” Fiona inquires, breaking my trance.

  Glancing from Ben back to Fiona, I answer, “We do.” Unsure whether I should keep my mouth shut, or explain who we plan to visit, I decide on the latter. If Fiona knows anything about Lavenia, now’s the time to listen. “We’re going to visit the herb witch.”

  Fiona, who had lifted her cup to drink, nearly spews her water across the table. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she says, “Do not trust her. Many believe she practices the dark arts. ’Twould be a perfect location, I must admit. She is on the outskirts of town, away from the rest of us commoners, doing God-only-knows in that cottage of hers.”