Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  I gawk at the creation. “How does this work?”

  Ben clears his throat. “Um, if I want to craft or remove clothing, I have the ability.”

  “One of the Conway spells?”

  “Something like that.”

  I smirk. “So, what you’re saying is clothing’s optional when we’re together.”

  His cheeks radiate a fiery red. I’ve never seen him blush before. Then, salvaging his composure, he retorts, “Only if you want it to be. I mean, I can remove what you’re wearing now, if that’s a problem.”

  I shake my head. “Nope, no problem at all.”

  He lifts one eyebrow. “You sure? Because I—”

  “Promise. It’s fine, really.” I nod to show him I’m serious, and hopefully he’ll believe me. I don’t want to imagine what our meetings will be like if I’m naked. How humiliating!

  “Okay,” he says, but doesn’t sound certain. “I’ll run upstairs and grab some washcloths. Stay put.”

  Like I can go anywhere else . . .

  While waiting for his return, I think about how the hell I’m ever going to escape here, and how my friends and family better think of something quickly. I can’t spend another night in this Godforsaken prison.

  ~*~

  “So, storytelling time!” I wiggle my fingers in the air. Ben gapes at me like I’ve completely lost my intellectual capability. Maybe I have. This dark place will do that to anybody, I’m sure.

  “Take off your shirt,” he orders instead.

  “Um, wha—what?” I stammer. Surely, I misunderstood him.

  “Take. It. Off.” When I don’t move, he huffs. “I can’t treat your injuries if there’s no way to get to them. Either take it off or I’ll force it to disappear. Pick one.”

  Oh, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. I’m not about to show him the goods—not when anyone can barge in and see me!

  “You can stop the psychological wrestling and just do it,” he says. “It’s not like I haven’t seen them before.”

  “What?!”

  “Boobs.”

  I just . . . I can’t even . . .

  “Not yours. Ali’s,” he amends. “They’re pretty the same everywhere, just different sizes.”

  Oh my God. Stop it! I use my inner voice to communicate with him because my real voice would totally falter.

  His façade cracks, revealing his gorgeous pearlies in a spacious grin. “What’s wrong, Candra? I thought you liked teasing. Oh, wait—just dishing it out, not the taking part, right?”

  You are insane. Only crazy people would be having this conversation right now!

  Then call me crazy, but I’m serious. Remove your shirt.

  I pace back and forth debating whether this is right or wrong. My cuts do hurt, and they could potentially become infected if I remain in this grubby basement and don’t heal quickly enough. Ah, screw it!

  “Thatta girl.”

  Turning my back toward him, I strip off my shirt, leaving myself half-undressed. He strolls up behind me and lightly presses a cloth to my gashes.

  “Does that hurt?” he asks, low and gruff.

  “No,” I squeak, “not at all.”

  An awkward hush fills the air. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m furious and embarrassed and wondering if he’s purposely doing this to me.

  “When we turned,” says Ben, slashing through the thick atmosphere between him and me, even though we’re inches apart, “the cosmos decided we’d have reincarnated souls living inside us.” He mentions this randomly, like it’s an afterthought, like it’s not a big deal to have restored souls living inside us. “Centuries ago, two of our ancestors fell in love. They were from opposing sides. Families warring against each other and all.”

  “Sounds familiar,” I joke.

  He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he replies, “The problem with these two, though, is not that they were enemies, or that they happened to love one another; it’s that they were Ancients. The one who dwells inside me—Ulric—has a brother—Alaric.” Can’t say their names.

  I know. Remembering what Maggie told me a few months ago about Ancients, and how speaking their name is a direct summons, I understand why Ben can’t verbalize.

  He carries on with the story. “And the one who lives in you was the object of affection for both brothers.”

  Alaric and Ulric?

  “Right. Al decides that if he can’t have her—Daciana—then no one will. So, he kills them.”

  I turn around this time, still covering myself, of course, but I have to see his face to confirm what I’m hearing. “He killed his own brother?”

  Grimacing, Ben nods. “Yes. But before their souls departed Earth, Al banished them to the Otherworld—a location neither the living nor the dead want to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “From what I’ve heard, it’s purgatory. There’s nobody to converse with, and you can’t leave. Once you’re there, you’re there forever.”

  I can’t believe Alaric would do something so selfish. “So, are we . . . ourselves? I mean, can they takeover our bodies?”

  “They already have, which is why we saved you. I figured your parents didn’t explain just yet—and I was right. By the time we reached your house, you had already changed into Daci.”

  “My parents knew? Why didn’t they . . .” I let my voice trail off. Why didn’t they what—explain everything? It’s a joke how they refuse to inform me of what’s happening.

  Ben shrugs. “Maybe they wanted to focus on one issue at a time. That night just happened to be your transformation; the next day might’ve included the legend. Your mom mentioned something about they were going to let you know, but I doubted whether they would.”

  I glare at him. “Don’t talk about my mom like that.”

  “Sorry, but they’ve already withheld too much. When do you think they would’ve told you about this part? Did they even have a spell to control Daci’s soul, or were they going to let you continue living as her?”

  “I don’t know, okay? But this is big, so they had to realize they needed to be prepared. Instead, you guys ride in on white horses to save the day, kidnapping me in the process. Now I’ll die here unless they save me.”

  “Hey,” he says, moving forward and placing his hands on my upper arms. “I won’t let them kill you. We’re the link, Candra. We have to undo the past of our families.”

  “Oh, yeah? And how will we manage that?”

  “My family wants your power to bring back the Ancients, so we have them on our side.” But you and I, we could release them so they’d be at peace.

  “I don’t even have my power yet, so why are they convinced I’ll be the one that holds the key to bringing them back?”

  He frees my arms and steps away, not really looking at me, or anything else. “Because our powers are the exact same as Ul’s and Daci’s. I’ve already received mine, so that leaves yours. We already know what it’ll be; we just have to wait.”

  “What is it?” I ask in a tiny voice, one that doesn’t sound like my own; it’s remote and way too breathless.

  He smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “You can bend time, too. Only, whereas I can bend the present and future, you can bend the present and past. That’s why they need you, Candra, to go back in time and change everything.”

  “I’ll be able to go back in time?” I shrill, not really paying much attention to this last part. I hear the words, but they don’t register.

  “Yes.”

  “So, maybe I could be the one to change the whole thing, before they do.”

  “If you learn how to master it, you could get yourself out of here. But mastering something of that level would take time, which, ironically, you don’t have.” He adds, “And . . . you can’t go as far back as you’d like. There are limitations to your powers—to anyone’s, actually. You can’t undo death or life, and if you think returning to save Ul and Daci will work, think again. Traveling that far back in time will kill you.”

 
“So, what if I progressively went back in time? What if I traveled as far as my body would allow me, and then stop, rest, repeat? Eventually, I’d arrive in their era, wouldn’t I?”

  His eyebrows scrunch together; downward at the front, upward at the edges. “Don’t even think about it. You’d have no way to travel to the future, our present, and then you’d be stuck in their time, alone with three Ancients.” His face loosens a little as he says, “Besides, you can’t stop Ancients.”

  I think about this before I respond. What if I can? What if the reason I have these powers, and Ben his, is because we’re supposed to save Ul and Daci?

  “But they wouldn’t be Ancients back then, would they? They’d just be normal werewolves who just came into their powers.”

  Ben stares at me, his face unreadable. “I guess.”

  “Then we can do it,” I say, hopeful.

  He clears his throat. “Um, we?”

  “Yeah, you can help me.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t be a party pooper, Benjamin Conway. I’m going to need all the help I can get. Plus, I can’t return without you, remember?”

  We have one of those stare-offs, like the gunslingers used to have in the Wild West.

  Finally, he breaks, looking away. “I’ll think about it.”

  Better than no response, I suppose. “Okay, so, how will I get out of here before then? You know, before they hog-tie me and steal my power, which could possibly mean the end of this world?”

  Ben sighs. I haven’t figured that part out yet, but I’m working on it.

  “Great. So more likely than not, I’m stuck here until I acquire my ability. Then you guys will have your once-in-a-lifetime, let’s-destroy-Candra party.” I roll my eyes.

  Ignoring me, Ben drops his voice an octave. “Have you even been trying to search for a way out?”

  “Uh, there isn’t one,” I whisper. “Trust me, I’ve looked. I can’t fit through the window and these walls are probably indestructible. Plus, there are Followers outside standing watch; you guys wouldn’t be doing this alone.”

  “Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.” His eyes carve into mine and hold longer than necessary.

  Was that a hint?

  Yes. There’s a passageway out of here. You just have to know where to look. I can’t tell you because they’d know it was me if you escaped this early. Keep searching, wait a few days, then make your move, understand?

  I nod. Thanks.

  He smiles, and his voice returns to the normal octave when he says, “Now that you’ve had your lesson in genealogy for the day, let’s get back to business. Turn around, Princess.”

  This time, I don’t argue.

  Chapter Eight

  If there is a secret passageway in this dump, I haven’t found it yet. Three days have passed since Ethan and I fought. Three days since Ben explained the Ancients’ lore. Three days since I learned of my ability to travel back in time. If I can just figure out when, exactly, I’ll obtain my power, everything might work out. But until then, I’m up you-know-what creek.

  Since my stay in this shithole, I’ve had a lot of time to consider what my family and friends might be planning. None of the scenarios in my head have worked out. Every time I visualize their ambush on the Conway property, they’re outnumbered, seriously injured, or murdered. My loved ones are smarter than that, though. They won’t enter the area unless they have back-up, which means they’ll be gathering as many Watchers as they can.

  Abruptly interrupting my ideas of escape is Ben. Images of Ali dash by, and I’m unsure if they’re memories or the real thing. If they are bona fide, then Ali’s here, in this house, because the front door is directly behind her.

  Ben tries blocking me. He’s not very good at it, though, so I hone in.

  “I’ve missed you,” Ali says, sliding her arms around his waist and gazing up at him through big, blue eyes. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “Been busy,” he responds curtly.

  She sneers. “What’s more important than talking to me? Don’t say it has anything to do with that Ancient guy, or a Followers’ gatherings, because I don’t want to hear those excuses anymore.” Without giving him time to answer, she adds, “Want to go for a run?” Her eyebrows suggestively rise and fall a couple of times.

  All Ben thinks about is detaching her arms from his waist.

  “You know I can’t tell you anything,” he says, pulling out of her grasp and ignoring her last question.

  “Oh, please.” She scoffs. “I’m practically family. If you don’t tell me, one of them will. They love me too much not to.”

  He doesn’t say anything. As a matter of fact, he glances away. I see the living room through his eyes, still as dull and miserable as ever. Nobody else is around.

  “Answer me, Ben,” she commands, losing the sweet-girl veneer.

  Her face comes into sight again, but Ben remains quiet.

  “Oh my God. I’ve seen that look before. You’re after that bitch again, aren’t you? What’s it going to take for you to realize it won’t work?”

  As quickly as the anger arrived, it disappears, and she’s back to playing her I’m-as-sweet-as-cotton-candy skit.

  “Besides, your family doesn’t love her like they do me, and there aren’t any other wolf babes in the area who are willing to date you. What other options do you have, sweetie?”

  “That’s because you scare them off,” he says through clenched teeth. “And for the record, I don’t have to tell you anything. I have bigger problems to worry about than whether or not some ‘wolf babes’ want to date me.”

  She glares at him, with her forehead creased and lips tightly knitted.

  “Candra and I are marked,” he states flatly, giving in.

  BAM! There it is.

  Ali shakes her head, unconvinced, visibly pretending this revelation doesn’t affect her. “No biggie. Just undo it.”

  “Can’t,” he says, shrugging. “I kissed her.”

  This time there’s no mistaking her fury. She’s ready to kill one of us, and my bet is it’s not Ben she’s after. For whatever reason, girls like to blame other girls for their boyfriend’s inability to keep his hands and mouth to himself. Although, I can’t say I blame her; this is permanent. What she doesn’t know is that it was completely accidental. Well, except for the kissing part; Ben forced me to comply on that one.

  “She’s here, isn’t she?” Ali looks around the living room, as if I’m hiding behind the fichus tree or under the coffee table. “That’s why you won’t let me past the foyer.”

  “Do you honestly think my parents would allow Candra inside the house?”

  Ben tries throwing her off, but she’s adamant that I’m here, concealed. Which, I am, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Didn’t she have a birthday recently?” she asks. “I thought Jana mentioned something about her turning soon. If that’s the case, then your parents will snatch her before she attains her power. So, I’ll ask you again, sweetie, where is she?” For emphasis, she folds her arms across her chest.

  I can feel Ben’s heartbeat as if it’s my own, and Ali’s games do nothing to slow its rhythm.

  “She’s. Not. Here.” He backs her away from the living room, toward the front door. “It’s time you leave. I’m not going to be interrogated in my own house.”

  “Okay, then, I’m sorry,” says Ali, but she seems more agitated than apologetic.

  “I just . . . don’t feel like dealing with you today.”

  He continues pushing her, but she braces herself against the front door before Ben can reach for the knob.

  “Ben,” she states, sneering, “I’m not sorry for interrogating you; I’m sorry that I have to take care of her without your help.”

  She presses two fingers to his neck, wiping him out cold. Everything on my end is black. I can’t see his thoughts, the living room, or her. I have no idea where she’s headed. If she used her power on him, then she
has an idea of where I might be.

  And she’s coming after me with the ability to knock a person into Dreamland.

  I’ve got to do something—anything! One touch and I won’t know that I’m asleep. She can easily injure me . . . or worse.

  Ben, wake up! Please, wake up! My whining is useless. Now’s the time for me to act; I have to break out of this place.

  “C’mon, Candra,” I urge myself. “Find the hidden passage.”

  The window above me is looking great right about now, if only I can figure out how to reach it. There’s nothing in here to help me—no tables, chairs, boxes. Nothing! With the iron bars reaching ceiling level, and away from the window, I can’t shimmy up and climb across the top.

  “Oh, there you are,” says Ali, causing me to swivel and root myself in place. Every hair on my body stands on its tippy-toes. “I knew you’d be here,” Ali proceeds to say, “but Ben thought it’d be wise to lie. Of course, I’m sure you could see all that.” She takes slow, deliberate steps down into the basement, eyes never leaving mine, like a lion stalking its prey.

  “I’d be lying if I said I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I divulge.

  She halts on the bottom step, her face a blank slate. “Just so you know, before our little war is over, Candra Lowell, I’m going to kill you myself.”

  Man, she gets to the point rather fast, doesn’t she?

  “Oh, really?” I question, not believing her for one second. All of this is a sham, a crumbling foundation she builds her lies on. Once she erects her dishonesty to a high enough level, I’m going to bring a damn crane in and bulldoze the bastard.

  “It is. It definitely won’t be another fight in a parking lot, but I will win like I did last time. I always win.”

  “Not always,” I say, repressing a smile. “Sometimes you need to lose in order to see things differently, and I’d bet you’re just used to having things your way. That’s not winning; that’s a pampered monster.”

  One corner of her mouth curls into a calculating grin. “A monster? Funny you should think that since you’re exactly the same as the rest of us.”