Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  Finally, after oodles of hilarity, he ends the ticklefest and pulls me up to him so we sit face to face. Brushing away strands of my untamed hair, he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

  I can’t help it; I blush and lower my eyes. “So are you,” I joke.

  He smiles, but doesn’t answer with witticism. In its place: “You’re right. We’re going to need our strength for tomorrow. If we’re not refreshed, we may not make it out alive.” Laying me back down, he nestles beside me under the covers.

  With a light kiss on my forehead, he says, “Goodnight, Princess.”

  “Night,” I mumble, closing my eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I swear my eyes aren’t closed fifteen minutes before a voice enters my head. Yes, enters. As in: takes over my psyche.

  Come to my house, both of you. I’ve had a premonition, says Maggie, her voice more imperative than I’ve ever heard.

  Ben rises before I do. “Seriously? It’s, like, after midnight,” he complains.

  “Must be really important if she’s contacting us this way. She’s never done that before. I didn’t even know she had the ability.” I force myself to sit up, though my body begs me not to do this.

  Ben, sliding of the bed, says, “She’s an Ancient, so what do you expect?”

  “What if it isn’t Maggie?” I think aloud. “What if it’s a trap?”

  “Nobody can enter our minds except Ancients.”

  “Right. So, it might be him.”

  Opening my bedroom door, Ben says, “It’s not, Candra. Can’t explain it, but I know it’s her.”

  The house is dark, excluding the lights outside the front door and over the back porch. Ben and I decide it’ll be faster if we shift. I remember walking everywhere a few months ago because I didn’t have a car or werewolf capabilities—which totally sucked in the cold weather. I am so glad those days are over.

  It takes all of five minutes to arrive. Maggie waits for us on the front porch. With a quick snap of her fingers, we’re human, and clothed.

  “No time to waste,” she says, quickly closing the door. She guides the two of us to her kitchen table, while she stands by the sink. Same as the last time we were here.

  “What’d you see?” Ben asks.

  “Many things,” she says. “All of them good, to a certain point.”

  She pauses, so we wait for her to continue.

  “I can only see to a specific area,” she explains. “I can’t view the past.”

  Ben’s eyes squint. “What are you talking about?”

  Maggie twists one of her wipe cloths between her hands. “I know how the fight will happen tomorrow, every move he and his friends will make. But I can’t see further than that, which means you two will go back in time.”

  “We’ll survive that long?” My eyebrows ascend in amazement. “I’m shocked. Didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Yeah, neither did I,” Ben chimes in. “So, what do we do?”

  Maggie describes every detail of the battle taking place at noon, from who will be there to how it ends. Since we are now familiar with the moves Alaric and his friends will make, we have the advantage. But does Alaric know we know?

  “Is there any possibility that he might catch on to our little secret and change the future?” I inquire. “Because if he does, Ben and I definitely won’t be returning to the past.”

  Maggie shakes her head in disagreement before I ever finish my sentence. “No. He doesn’t have the ability to see into the future like I do.” She grunts. “He wishes he did, though.”

  Changing the subject, she continues, “Listen to me. I don’t know what will happen in the door to the past, but you need to protect your power—” she points to my silver heart locket “—and use him to ride through as much of the gateway as possible. You don’t want to travel too far back, but too little would mean you’d have to spend more time resting and traveling than you would trying to find the original Ancients.” She hacks up some phlegm. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “So . . .” Ben starts, but he’s too lost to finish the question.

  “So,” Maggie carries on for him, “that means you two need to drop him off somewhere in Nowhereville, and rejoice once you’ve landed safe and sound.”

  “What if we can’t? What if he lands with us in the eighteenth century or the seventeenth century, or whatever century it is we crash into?” I ask.

  Maggie jabs a finger my way. “You can’t let him! You do whatever it takes to leave him in the future so you two can finish this, understood?”

  I shake my head vigorously.

  “In case you can’t manage that much and he tags along for the ride, then as soon as your feet hit the ground, you run. His present self will be returning to a time when his former self lived. That’s not a fantastic combination.”

  “What?” Ben inquires, finally finding his voice.

  Maggie sighs like we should know this information by now, impatient even. “There is no hocus pocus so the present him can disappear—there will be two of him. Double the trouble. Twice the menace. Do you comprehend now?”

  Ah, crapola. We don’t need this. Well, I don’t know about Ben, but I don’t need this. Two Alaric’s in the same location is asking for a swift death, although I seriously doubt whether the original Alaric, the past Alaric, will have the same powers as his futuristic twin. Never hurts to ask, though.

  “Hey, uh, what about his former self?” I’m over trying to hide his name. I should call him out right here, right now and get this jamboree over with. “Back then, did he have his powers yet?”

  “Oh, he had them all right. He had them when that witch cast a spell on his bloodline, and the bloodline of her.” Maggie looks like she might spit dirt. I assume her aggression is aimed at the witch, not my great-grandma. “To finish all of them, you need to not only find the wolf that bit them, but also find the witch that began their true affliction. The curse.”

  “I . . . don’t understand. I thought they were bit and that’s why we change, not because of magic,” I say.

  “Why do you think we use magic now, child? It was given to us.”

  “So, the witch—we kill her, too?” says Ben. “Great. This should make for a long and eventful trip.”

  Maggie cuts her eyes toward Ben. “Now is not the time to be feelin’ down on your luck, Benjamin Conway. You both need your strength for tomorrow . . . and yesterday, the day before that, and the century before that one.” A smile wedges itself into her lips, alleviating the sober expression. I guess that’s her lame attempt at being comical.

  “The plan,” I say, clearing my throat and bringing the discussion back to reality. “We need to recap every move he and his friends make at least one hundred times, like it’s a play by play for a sports game. One small slip-up and we’re toast.”

  The three of us work diligently into the wee hours of the morning. To my surprise, Maggie is the least tired; Ben and I are the ones losing a battle against drooping heads and heavy eyes. Although Maggie offers to cook breakfast, we politely decline, offering her the excuse we need to return before those spending the night at Randy and Beth’s organize a search party.

  “Well, then, you be careful. Remember all of what I’ve told you. My mind isn’t so sharp these days, so I may forget a thing or two,” Maggie says, squinting at the sun rising up on the horizon.

  Ben and I linger on the porch. I think both of us share a bittersweet moment—we might not ever see Maggie’s home again.

  “Go on now,” she says, biting her lower lip.

  I turn around and hug her. “Thank you for everything.”

  Ben half-smiles, and then waves with a flick of his hand. “See ya, Mags.”

  “Wait—” Her bottom lip quivers, and she looks anywhere but our faces. “I have one last . . . something for the two of you.”

  “A gift?”

  She closes her eyes, and just as quickly, opens them. “There. It’s done.” With that, she walks in
side, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ben and I manage to get back to Randy and Beth’s before anyone wakes up. Thank god. I can imagine them bombarding us with questions about where we’ve been all night and what we’ve been doing. Nestling into bed with Ben again, I may consider this to be my personal slice of heaven. Instead of our close encounter last night, though, we pass out cold. At least for a little while . . .

  “Honestly, would you look at them? So adorable.”

  “There are some days I have no doubt they are meant to be together, and other days I never want to believe it.”

  Ugh. Please stop talking about us like we can’t hear you.

  Ben jerks away from me. I guess he forgot where he was when he woke up.

  Stretching the length of my bed, I say, “We’re not deaf, you know.”

  Mom and Beth tsk me, like it’s my fault they’re standing in my doorway, carrying on a conversation while two people are sleeping. They share an open look.

  “Candra, it’s almost eleven thirty,” advises Beth. “If you’re going to beat him, I suggest you leave now, for all our sakes.”

  I haul my butt out of bed, hugging both Mom and Beth before rushing downstairs and saying goodbye to everyone else. Ben’s sluggish on following. Just as I’m about to head out the front door, Ben takes the stairs, running a few fingers through his unkempt black hair.

  “Ready?” I ask, checking to make sure he’s fully alert for this.

  Ready, he responds.

  My eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “How—”

  “Maggie,” we both decipher at the identical time.

  Ben holds out his hand for me to take. Good to have you back.

  You, too.

  He and I decided during our long chat with Maggie that we can’t turn into werewolves today, no matter how angry or frightened we become. Should we transform, we’ll lose our powers. And where would that lead us? Nowhereville, the exact location we’re supposed to drop off Alaric. Or the Otherworld. I’ve heard that’s a great place to hang out, too.

  Hilarious, says Daciana.

  I laugh inwardly.

  Ben and I don’t speak on the walk over to the Town Hall. We already know what’s going to happen, so what’s the point? If we have final words to say, we’ll say them in the time tunnel, or portal—whatever it is.

  Don’t think too much about this, he says, crushing my thoughts like he can read me. We’ll be finished with him soon.

  I smile. Promise?

  He clutches my hand tighter. “Promise,” he says aloud.

  Even with the sun burning down on us, its heat is insubstantial compared to the chill, January air. Maybe it’s death prowling the atmosphere, or maybe it’s Alaric’s face—which is now in sight. He stands at the top of the steps leading to the large, white double doors of the Town Hall. Like a ceremony is about to take place, his friends line each side, one on each stair. They all turn to ogle Ben and me as a smile cracks Alaric’s formal features. We stop on the sidewalk across the street, where onlookers will be able to observe the clash in full view. Alaric proceeds to meet us halfway.

  “Ah, friends,” Alaric jests, opening his arms in a wide display of phony affection. He doesn’t have to speak loudly for us to hear, though cars pass by. Nobody stops to witness, because nobody knows the totality of what’s about to occur. “I’m so glad you made it. I was hoping you would heed my advice.” He peers past us, and all around. “No family or friends, I see?”

  I almost retch. “Cut us some slack. We’re not stupid.”

  “Of course. Of course. So, you won’t mind if we evade small talk and get to the point, will you?” He gracefully strolls across oncoming traffic, motorists slamming on their brakes and honking their horns. None of these reactions deter him, though. When Alaric wants something, it’s clear he’s going to obtain it by whatever means necessary. Safely, he makes his way to our side, positioning himself directly in front of me. Ben’s body, side to side with mine, stiffens.

  “What holds your prized power, dearest Candra? An earring? A ring, perhaps? Ah,” he lingers, eyes sparkling as my locket catches a glint of sunlight, “a necklace.” His fingers twirl the metal heart on a chain, his thoughts imperceptible as he hijacks the moment to reflect.

  I jerk away from his grasp, fortunately with the necklace intact. “I’m not giving it up that easily. If you want it, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

  His cackle echoes off the nearby buildings. “Candra, really, I thought we were past foolishness.” He motions behind him at the gang of Ancients. “Have I introduced you to my friends?”

  “I’m not blind,” I rejoin. “I know who they are.”

  Alaric’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes; he’s growing more and more annoyed with me. Good. This is what I hoped for. In reality, he’s just a big bully who gets away with it because of his age and what he is.

  Ben and I, however, are here to take a stand—and we’re not alone.

  Arms crossed, Ben joins the conversation. “Looks like you’re missing one of your friends.”

  Alaric glances over his shoulder, checking to see if a teammate has fled the scene. Chuckling, he says, “Your eyes deceive you; they’re all accounted for.”

  Ben sways his head the slightest bit. “Irrational Alaric, didn’t you know?” He pauses, adding, “I thought Ancients were always one step ahead. Guess not.” A sneer forms on Ben’s lips as he scans me, peripherally, and I direct the same sneer at him.

  For a short-lived second, Alaric resembles a young boy, cowering in a corner, afraid. He has absolutely no idea what’s about to hit him. What we have in store is so much greater than anything even I can imagine. But it seems we have to suffer before we’re relieved, because Alaric also doesn’t waste time. Unsheathing his magic, he forces much of his powers into Ben and me. I fall to my knees as earsplitting screeches tremor against my eardrums, my brain, my skull. My hands instinctively cover my ears, like they can suck out the unending agony. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out; it takes too much effort and energy, and somehow I fear it’ll only render worse pain. Ben’s not any better off; one look at him reveals he’s experiencing the same shrill torment as me. His eyes roll back so only the whites show. The noise rises higher and higher until I don’t think my insides can take anymore. My teeth vibrate, and I clench them so hard they might burst from the pressure. I can hardly process complete thoughts right now, but one thing’s for certain: this will all be over before long.

  “Give me the necklace,” Alaric articulates through gritted teeth. Like I’ll hand it to him that easily . . .

  There’s a word bubbling in my throat, and all my energy is sacrificed to speak. “No.”

  With a tic of his head, he says, “Fine. Have it your way.”

  A part of my skull pops as if it’s being flattened, as if someone is taking a baseball bat and beating me with it. My mouth opens to emit a blood-curdling scream, but no sound is released. I can only slouch in misery. Of course, I knew this would happen. Ben and I are very much aware of every action Alaric and his friends will make. Every hit, every spell—all of it. This is just a dance to us, and soon we’ll finish the last steps.

  On cue, Alaric is propelled off the sidewalk and into the street, where he’s hit by an oversized, extended-bed truck. Hit so hard, in fact, that the rear of the vehicle lifts into the air before falling to the ground, smashing against the pavement. Immediately, the piercing noise in my head ends.

  Ben and I are slow to rise just as the Ancients dash down the steps of the Town Hall. From behind us, the Lowell’s, Conway’s, Randall’s, Watchers, and Followers storm the scene, with Maggie leading. We knew they’d show up, but we fake disbelief when they actually do. Mrs. Rendall sprints for Ben and me, casting a healing spell on the both of us. My cranium begins to reposition, patching itself up.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling. Her nose scrunches and eyes squint as she acknowledges my gr
atitude.

  Cameron, Ethan, Jana, and Blake bypass the rest of us and meet the other Ancients head-on. Jana uses her fire ability to trap them in a large circle, while Blake sends sheets of ice across their bodies, freezing them. Most are overwhelmed, but not all. Several of the Ancients have easily sidestepped Jana and Blake’s skills, shaking off the ice and stepping through the fire. Cameron and Ethan, side by side with Jana and Blake, launch their powers. Cameron couples his gift with Blake’s, electrocuting those who are frozen solid. Ethan punches the ground, rippling the asphalt and sending shockwaves to the advancing Ancients. All four of their talents combined are enough to hold off the faction so we can progress with one Ancient only.

  Alaric brushes off flecks of plastic and paint that exploded from the front end of the truck.

  “Leave him to me,” says Maggie. Once again, she picks him up from a distance and chucks his body clear across the road.

  Now that we’ve caused utter destruction in the middle of Hartford, we’ve gained an audience. I glance at Mr. Rendall, who ducks his head, closes his eyes, and raises his hands, gradually lowering them. “Sleep,” he whispers. As quickly as the word is formed, those viewing us from the sidewalks and cars fall into a coma-like state. All remain in the same position they were in before the slumber, and will remain that way until the damage is cleaned up.

  Everyone joins the fight against the Ancients, save for Ben and me. We can’t exactly conjure flames and electricity, so we spare our verve for the remaining assignment. We watch both sides of the battle. At one point, Dad picks up a car—thankfully with nobody in it—and chucks it at an Ancient, who ducks, narrowly missing a wake-up call to the face. The combat radius has shrunk considerably since the beginning of the fight, so now those tussling with the rogue Ancients are closer than ever. Close enough they struggle hand to hand. Even tiny Jana continually receives whacks to the face and body. Mom knocks one Ancient off his feet by dropping low and swinging her leg against the back of his kneecaps, and Mr. and Mrs. Conway literally rip two Ancients apart.

  Studying the progression made, I must say I’m shocked we all can work so well together. Three months ago, if somebody told me where I’d be and who I’d be working with, I would’ve laughed. Looking at the turmoil, I realize you can’t mess with fate. Ben and I were brought together for a reason, and that reason is this, right here, right now.