“Rise-n-shine, darlings! We have work to do,” she yells. I’m fairly positive that if Randy and Beth had neighbors, they’d call the cops.
I burrow further underneath my comforter. My bedroom door creaks open, and I envision Beth standing in the doorway, hands on hips.
“Today’s the day!” she shouts, a little too loudly. “C’mon, Candra. We have Followers to thrash into submission.”
Okay. Who is she and what has she done with Aunt Beth?
She jerks the covers off me, and I curl into a ball, seeking warmth.
“If I have to get one of the men in here to drag you out of bed, so help me . . .”
“All right. All right. I’m up,” I mumble, slothfully sliding off the mattress. “Let me brush my teeth and stuff.”
She sharply turns on one heel and leaves the room, bellowing as she goes. I’m sure Mom and Dad will get a kick out of this. Never in my life have I awoken to such a ruckus, and I’m pretty sure they haven’t either.
I tame my hair into a somewhat-presentable up-do and brush the morning breath away. My morning ritual nowadays also consists of attempting to contact Ben. So far, no word yet, which worries me. Either he’s completely ignoring my efforts to contact him or his family has figured out a way to block all communication between the two of us. If his family found out he put the idea of escape into my head, he’ll definitely be done for. Since our marking, my pull toward him has been a hundred times greater than before. Only, now it’s even harder to concentrate on responsibilities.
Like Daci said, I’m going to need all the rest I can get.
Downstairs, Randy is the man of the hour as he scrambles eggs and fries bacon. Jana and Blake sit at the table, slurping coffee. They look as disheveled as I feel.
“Morning, guys,” I murmur on my way to the coffee machine.
“Morning,” they return in unison.
“So, today’s the big day, huh?” Mom asks as she glides into the kitchen. “Can’t wait to see everyone in action. Candra, sweetie, how are you feeling?” She presses her hand to my forehead, like I acquired a fever due to the ritual.
I slip away and grab a seat at the bar. “I’m fine.”
“Good. I was certain there’d be some aftereffects,” she says more to herself than the rest of us.
“And that should just about do it,” Randy says, turning off the oven eyes and placing the pans on warmers. The bacon sizzles, and steam whorls off the eggs.
Blake all but topples his chair in an attempt to beeline for the food. Jana frowns and shakes her head. I laugh.
“What?” asks Blake, turning around to face us, a plate in one hand and a fork in the other. “We have to eat, don’t we?” He doesn’t wait for a response before munching on the crispy bacon. It’s enough to send my taste buds into overdrive.
“You’ve convinced me,” I say, snatching a plate and shuffling up next to him.
He gives me a sidelong glance, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not going to eat all of it, are you?”
I lift my chin a little higher. “So what if I am?” Eyeing his plate, I add, “Better watch it—I might eat yours.” With that, he keeps his distrusting façade all the way to the table.
Jana rolls her eyes. “Really, you two.”
Ignoring both of them, I decide it’s time to get down to business. “What’ll it be like today, play-fighting against non-existent Followers?”
“It was Randy’s idea to construct lifelike people and wolves to practice with,” Jana informs me. She briefly smiles at Randy, who’s too busy talking to Beth to notice. “They’ve helped us a lot, especially when dealing with the real thing.”
“Well, if what you two did with those Followers the other day is any indication of the training you’ve received, then I say we’re off to a good start. Not the best yet, but better than we were.” Blake’s pretend scowling has worn off, and I sit across from him at the table. “At least now we have an Ancient on our side.” Who has been surprisingly quiet since our chat last night.
“If—and that’s a big if—she’ll cooperate,” Blake reminds me. “I hope you don’t have another repeat of yesterday.” He’s implying about my transformation being half-assed, with Daciana preventing me from fully changing. Which has occurred for three straight days now.
“I think she’s slowly coming around,” I say. “It’ll take some time for her to warm up to me.”
Blake snorts. “You two better work something out soon.”
“I know. We’ve come to an understanding. But we’ll see how that unfolds.”
Randy and Beth end their hushed conversation near the kitchen doorway, Beth making her way toward the coffee, where Mom has been standing since she entered.
“You kids eat up,” Beth says over her shoulder. “You’ll need to convert that food to strength.”
Blake grins. “Can’t wait.”
Dad is the last of my family to arrive downstairs. He and Randy awkwardly pat one another’s shoulder in one of those half-man-hugging, bro-slapping attempts at affection. I nearly strangle on my eggs. Guys are so weird.
“Candra, since you haven’t participated in our weekly training sessions, you’ll need a few pointers,” says Beth, taking the moment to sip her coffee, watching me over the rim. “We begin after breakfast and break for lunch. After lunch, though, we won’t stop until the sun goes down. Then it’s showers, dinner and bed, but not necessarily in that order. We train on Mondays and Wednesdays, but we’re considering increasing our preparations to three, maybe even four, times per week. It’s in our best interest we practice as much as possible.”
I nod. “Of course. But why not every day? At least until we know we’re as powerful as the Conway’s.”
Beth’s face wrinkles with . . . what is that? Sympathy? “We’ll wear ourselves down, then how will we have the strength to progress?”
I shrug, browsing the room for something to latch on to, something that will help my cause. My eyes land on my plate. Ding, ding, ding! “I don’t know, maybe we should eat more food?”
Blake’s the first to duck his head in an attempt to hide his laughter, but the longer my words hang in the air, the more their faces lift, humored.
Smiling, Beth says, “All right, Candra. We’ll try it your way for one week. If it doesn’t work out, then we’re back to the old schedule. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” I reply. “When do we start?”
Chapter Eleven
“Stand over there.” Jana points to a spot near the edge of the tree line. She nods when I’m in the correct position. “Good. Now, pretend I’m not here, that I’m just a Follower.” To stress her point, she elevates the practice dummy two feet off the ground in front of her, hiding her face. “When I come at you, what are you going to do?” she asks, voice muffled.
“Um, attack?” I respond.
Blake cackles.
“Go away!” Jana snaps at him. “You’re interrupting our session.”
He doesn’t move, so she runs after him until he listens.
Returning to her previous position, with the dummy covering her entire upper half, she asks me again, “So, what are you going to do?”
“I’ve already answered this question.”
Jana pokes her head around the side of the dummy, glaring. “Candra, you can’t just assault them. They never travel alone, so you have to watch your back, and they always play dirty. If you want to frolic in the forest with your enemies, that’s your prerogative. They’re mean, they’re angry, and they hate you. Now, I’ll ask you one more time: what are you going to do?”
“Um . . . use the power I don’t have yet? I don’t know, Jana. Do you want me to step aside so Daci can answer? I’m sure she knows.”
Jana loosens her hold on the dummy, letting its replicated feet slide to the ground. She sighs and shakes her head. “The answer is: you have to use everything, every single ounce of energy and intelligence and muscle. You have to think like them, only faster, never let them be one step ah
ead, and always, always remember they’ll do whatever it takes to capture you again.”
“How am I supposed to apply that towards a training dummy?”
“Because we’re going to up the stakes,” Blake replies, stepping into the conversation from my right. “Jana and I will get you caught up on what we’ve learned so far, and then everything else will become easier.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s do this.” I stoop, preparing myself for the shift, but nothing happens.
“Oh no. Not again,” says Blake, running his fingers through his hair. “Cee, you seriously need to have a chat with that bit—”
“Okay! I know. I’ve got it.” Daci, they need my help, and you’re blocking my body from doing just that. I want you to stop. Do you hear me?
Candra, lovely,Daci hums, I’m afraid you cannot order me to do as you wish, for we both know where that might lead. If you sever our agreement, I will make your life Hell.
You think I won’t let you out after we kill Alaric.
Precisely.
I gave you my word.
Which is of no use to me, she concedes.
All right. What can I do to change your mind?
Her silence riles my mood. How does she expect me to facilitate if I don’t even know what to do? I wasn’t born a psychic; I was born a werewolf.
In due time is her response. That’s it. That’s all I get. I wish there had been a way to keep her away from my body and in the Otherworld, then neither Ben nor I would be in this mess.
“Well?” says Blake, crossing his arms over his chest, edgily drumming his fingers.
I shrug. “She won’t tell me anything.”
Blake cusses under his breath, intertwines his hands on top of his head, and stalks off.
“He’s just upset that none of this is going according to plan,” Jana admits. “I mean, first you were kidnapped, and obviously that wasn’t supposed to happen, then the Conway’s placed that spell on you to bind her, and now she refuses to help us, impeding you as well.” She sighs. “It just sucks, ya know?”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”
“Listen, why don’t we explain this to Beth and the others, and see what they say, hmm?”
Bless her. I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but right now is not the time to play the motherly type. I don’t need a second mom; I need a best friend.
“No. I want to stand here and do this. If it takes me all night, so be it, but I’m not leaving until I change. Got it?” My attitude emerges as more of a bark than an undemanding pact, and I see the sudden hurt navigate Jana’s eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that,” I say, silently petitioning for her forgiveness.
“It’s okay,” she says. “We’re all under a lot of stress, you most of all. If this is what you want, then who am I to tell you it’s wrong? I can’t leave you out here alone, though.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not safe,” she argues. “And I’d blame myself if you went missing again. Next time, you wouldn’t have a way out, Candra. You’d be stuck. Think about it.”
“I try not to,” I let slip, “but the memory will always be there.”
Jana crosses the space between us and hugs me. Not a pity hug, more like an I-don’t-know-what-I’d-do-if-I-lost-you-eternally hug. I circle my arms around her and squeeze.
“Dude, I’m gone for, like, two seconds and you chicks are having lovefest? Don’t tell me I missed the make-out session already.” Blake intertwines his fingers in front of his chest, wagging them forward and backward, begging. All while mouthing the word Please.
“Yeah, you know it,” Jana retorts as unenthusiastically as possible. “Anyway,” she continues, “Candra’s decided she’s staying out here until she transforms, and I’m staying with her.”
“All right. I’m in,” says Blake. “We’ll pow-wow it up until she shifts, huh? I’ll go tell everyone. Be right back.”
Might be my imagination, or I have horrible hearing, but I swear Blake mumbles something about marshmallows and firewood as he walks away. Great. Next, we’ll be swapping ghost stories and singing “Kumbaya.”
Jana and I sit on the grass, in the middle of the clearing by Randy and Beth’s, which is slightly away from the forest and close enough to the house so that if something happens, the others will know. A safe spot.
“Well, nobody was too happy, but they finally understood,” Blake announces as he nears. Hands on hips, he says, “I really should’ve brought a deck of cards. We could’ve played strip poker.”
Jana slaps his leg.
“Ow, joking!” He laughs.
Turning toward me, Jana says, “It’s all you now, Candra. We’re just here as bodyguards.”
I stand a few feet away, pushing my body to make the switch, but, of course, nothing happens. Again, I try, and again, I fail. I don’t end, even when I feel physically nauseous.
“This isn’t working,” I say, taking a break after ten non-stop minutes.
“Keep trying,” encourages Jana. “It’s bound to happen soon.”
I lie on my back, staring up at the overcast sky. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if I blew a blood vessel somewhere in my body, I strained so hard.”
“Good thing you heal fast, huh?”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
Around me, the air shifts. I can’t explain the sensation, but the atmosphere weighs much more than it did a minute ago. The skyline darkens to a deep purple, and a looming storm is headed our way. Bright bolts of lightning snake through the clouds—occasionally dropping to strike the earth—and rain cascades in sheets like one long, never-ending waterfall.
“Something’s not right,” I say, sitting up.
Jana and Blake already stare into the forest without blinking.
“They’re coming,” says Jana.
We wait, just in case our senses are screwed up. I must say, after awhile, I’m ready to stop looking at the same trees; I’ve deciphered faces on the bark, and that can’t be a good thing.
“Guys, I don’t think—” I begin, but Jana clamps her hand over my mouth. Pressing one finger to her lips, she taps it a couple of times, signaling I need to remain silent.
I turn my attention back to the wooded area ahead of us. Praise the heavens my hearing is a hundred times more amplified than when I was human, because somewhere in there, through the dense foliage, leaves crunch and branches snap under heavy tread. Blake and Jana stand up, and I follow their lead. A wave of werewolves bound into sight, running faster at the spectacle of us standing unaided in the open lot.
“Get ready,” says Blake.
He and Jana don’t transform, though, and it’s not like I can if I have to . . .
As soon as the first group hits the tree line, Blake twirls his hand through the air and rears back, like he’s throwing a baseball, then releases. Jets of water shoot from his fingertips and palm, covering the ground in front of the wolves. With another flick of his hand, Blake freezes the dampened soil. The primary line doesn’t notice, and they slip and slide across the forest floor. Whimpering and clawing at the ice, the initial horde doesn’t have traction, and the next round stops themselves short before they end up like their friends.
“Now, Jana!” Blake shouts.
In the same fashion, Jana whorls her hands in graceful motions and unleashes. All around the Followers, the trees ignite. The werewolves secluded on ice-covered sheets scramble to gain a foothold so as not to accidentally slip into the blaze. The secondary line panics; some attempt to jump through, but Jana raises her arms and the inferno climbs higher. They’re ensnared in a wreath of flames.
“Let’s play,” Jana says, disturbingly, and without looking at Blake or me.
“Do what you do best, baby,” he encourages. “I have your back.”
Jana extends her arms in a loop, like she’s hugging an invisible person. Deliberately, she decelerates her movements as she brings her arms together, to touch. My eyes dart between her and the fire ring yards a
head, and then I realize what she’s doing—she’s closing them in. The Followers have nowhere to run, unless they want to be burned. It’s a big risk to take if they try.
I can only imagine the telepathic signals they’re sending to the Conway’s right now, and I’m certain it won’t be long before the Conway’s turn up. We’ll have to hold them off until then, somehow. If this is a full-blown attack, we haven’t seen the last of their Followers, and the Conway’s will only arrive as a last-ditch effort. I shouldn’t be surprised they tried this during daylight hours, but I am.
Jana tortures the werewolves, expanding and decreasing the size of the circle using her arms. At last, whether she’s tired and her energy is used up, or whether she feels like offering mercy today, Jana decides to end the faction before us. Several howls exit the conflagration until all is hushed, except for the crackle of flames.
Dropping her arms like they weigh a ton, Jana then collapses. I plop down on the grass beside her.
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, glancing up at Blake. He doesn’t seem concerned.
“She needs food and rest. This,” he says, nodding toward the fire, “takes a lot out of her. Give her twenty-four hours, and she’ll be good as new.”
Blake twitches his hand and shoots water at the fire, then freezes it just as he did before. Within fifteen seconds, the blaze is nothing but smoldering ashes. I’m surprised nobody noticed smoke and called the fire department. How fun would it be to explain that a supernatural feud is happening in everyone’s backyard, in the middle of the day?
Blake bends down and lifts Jana into his arms, carrying her toward the house. Inside, Beth prepares lunch while the others rest in the living room, watching the news for any weird developments.
“Oh my! What happened?” Beth shrieks, rushing from the kitchen counter to the doorway as we pass by.
“Followers,” Blake responds. “Don’t worry, we took care of them.”
Mrs. Rendall panics and jumps up from the loveseat. “Is she . . .?”
Shaking his head, Blake replies, “She’s just drained.”
Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2) Page 10