03 Long Night Moon - Seasons of the Moon

by SM Reine

  “I’m not safe tonight.” Her voice came out rough, like it did shortly before the change.

  “We have a safe place for moons. All three of us—you, me, and Levi. Dad told you his specialty is teen wolves, didn’t he? But we have to hurry. You’re going to change soon. You should see your eyes.”

  “It’s too soon,” she whispered.

  “You’re not in control. Come with me! Please!”

  Her muscles shivered under her skin. So many people…

  The room was crowded with bodies. Hormones ran high. They were all on edge, and all so tender.

  Nobody would expect an attack. She could feast.

  Seth’s hands caught her shoulders from behind. The comfort of his skin brought her human mind back to the surface, if only a little bit. She stepped back into his arms and leaned against him.

  “Back off,” he barked at Bekah, and her eyes went wide and round. “You heard me! Go!”

  “Rylie…”

  He dragged her toward the doors. Abel was waiting outside.

  “We have to hurry,” Seth said. “You’re changing.”

  Fifteen

  Cold and Dark

  Rylie felt drawn to get in the Chevelle with Abel, but Seth threw her into the truck. “Not now,” he said sharply.

  “Bekah said Abel’s killing people,” she said.

  Seth put the truck into gear and roared out of the parking garage. “That’s what Scott said, too.”

  “It’s not possible. Is it?”

  His eyes cut over to her. “Rylie…” His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I’ve had suspicions, but there’s an easy way to find out. We’ll lock both of you up. If people die tonight, we’ll know it couldn’t have been him.”

  “And if nobody dies?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Seth had prepared a safe place for Rylie to change after hunters began combing the wilderness for coyotes. It was an old cellar beneath an unoccupied farmhouse a couple miles from the ranch, and they had to race to make it there in time.

  Rylie hadn’t expected he would lock Abel up in there on the moon, too.

  She had to keep her forehead pressed to her knees to keep from getting sick as they drove. Seeing the night sky was too much. It made the wolf want to run into the darkness searching for prey.

  The Chevelle beat them to the cellar. Abel leaned against the hood, arms folded tight and brow drawn low over his eyes.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  Seth stopped him before he could go inside. “Let Rylie get ready first.”

  Get ready? She looked down at her dress and realized she would have to strip if she didn’t want to destroy it. She hadn’t been able to figure out a way to change with her clothes on. The build of the wolf was too weird—aside from being four-legged and hairy, she developed a lot of chest muscle that she didn’t have as a human, and her body became as thick around as a keg of beer.

  And the tail was another thing entirely.

  “Can we change in different places?” Rylie whispered, clinging to Seth’s arm. She tried to keep her skirt out of the snow, but the hem was already soggy. “Please?”

  He rubbed her shoulders. “I don’t know anywhere else secure to put him, and we’re out of time. This is all we have.”

  “But what if Abel isn’t becoming a werewolf again? What if he’s still human, and I hurt him?”

  “You’ll both be tied up tight. Don’t worry.”

  Rylie went into the cellar alone. The air was musty and stale. Cobwebs clung to the low ceiling. Dusty old boxes were labeled with things like “Vacation 1983” and “Christmas decorations,” but it looked like Seth had cleared a dark, empty corner for her.

  She stripped to her underwear. Knowing she would have to transform after the dance, she had spent way too long trying to decide if she should wear something sexy or modest—though she had only expected Seth to see it. She picked a strapless bra and panties with lacy parts on the sides. Now she wished she had worn long johns.

  Seth joined her after a minute and laid a blanket around her shoulders. “I’m not cold,” she said.

  “Keep it anyway.” He was bundled up in a leather jacket, gloves, and a scarf over his tuxedo, and he still looked like he was freezing.

  The stairs creaked as Abel came down. He looked even bigger without a shirt on. The scars on his face went all the way down his chest and side, breaking up the black curls that covered his torso.

  Seth dropped black ropes and thick steel chains on the ground. Rylie shuddered. She remembered those way too well.

  He separated out some of the ropes and tossed them to Abel before sitting next to her. Seth touched her cheek. “You okay? You’re being awfully quiet.”

  She tried to smile and failed. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Seth helped Abel with the restraints first. As soon as his wrists were bound, she pulled the loose rigging over her head. It sagged in the front where her muzzle would grow to fill it. She did the latch in the back with shaking fingers, then fit her hands into the wrist loops and wrapped the ropes around her ankles.

  Seth had to tighten the chains for her. They pinched.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  “Not really. You’ve upgraded.” She pillowed her head on her arms while he cinched the ankles tight.

  “You used to be weaker.”

  Seth checked the ropes one last time, gave her a kiss, and tossed her voluminous dress over his shoulder. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I’ll be right outside. Just think… when you guys wake up, it will be Christmas Eve.”

  “Yeah. Merry freaking Christmas,” Abel muttered. He sat stiffly in the corner with his chains looped around a wall hook.

  “Lay out my dress so it doesn’t get wrinkled,” she said.

  Seth winked at her. It was probably meant to be encouraging.

  Once he shut the doors and latched the lock, it was quiet in the cellar. Rylie stretched out as much as she could and tried to get comfortable, but something about being hogtied made relaxing impossible.

  “Are you scared?” Rylie asked.

  Abel folded his arms on his knees and didn’t respond. He definitely smelled scared.

  A familiar shudder rolled through her body. She gasped.

  It was time.

  Her fingernails had already fallen out, and her jaw had begun to shift, so she felt it in her spine first this time. Her lower back snapped and began to grind, like two rocks smashing her spinal column.

  She thought it would hurt less if she changed more often. But it didn’t. It only got worse.

  Her tailbone erupted from her back and wrenched free with a sick pop. Her chin cracked and spread forward as her ears slid up the sides of her head.

  Rylie screamed—she always screamed—and she registered the smell of adrenaline coming off Abel.

  Her chains rattled as she writhed. Her shoulders twisted as she strained to break free. Heat spread down her neck, shoulders, and hips as fur emerged. Her bra snapped off as her breastbone spread.

  She swelled within her bindings. The ropes pulled tight against her wrists. Her face filled the muzzle.

  As her body expanded within the ropes, the wolf expanded within her mind. It took control. Calm settled over her. A sense of peace—until it realized it was bound.

  The wolf thrashed, growling and snapping and straining to chew at the chains. But the muzzle held its mouth shut, and that only made it angrier.

  Abel’s screams pierced through her frenzy. She tried to get to her feet to help him, but she couldn’t.

  His human body distorted as the wolf fought to come through. His skin bulged in strange places. His back arched and his feet drummed against the floor.

  And then he became a wolf.

  Seth got in the truck, turned on the heater, and prepared to spend the night staked out by the cellar.

  He thought he could get some studying done
. He wanted to make up time he had lost to recent distractions, so he had brought everything with him even though they were on winter break for the next two weeks: binders, text books, note cards, the works.

  “Muscle memory,” he read aloud off his notes. It was cold enough in the truck that his breath fogged.

  Cerebellum. Easy stuff.

  He imagined Rylie sitting next to him, cheeks pink with cold and a big smile on her face. Teasing him for cheating even though he hadn’t. Promising to let him operate on her brain. They both knew his chances of getting into medical school weren’t great, but she would have supported him through anything.

  She was in the cellar—right now—in immense agony.

  Trapped with his brother.

  Seth dropped the cards and stared out the window at the snowy night. He hadn’t been shocked when Scott Whyte took him outside the dance to tell him that Abel was a werewolf. He wasn’t even shocked when the psychologist accused him of being the murderer and said they should leave town.

  What surprised him was how jealous he became when Abel demanded to dance with Rylie.

  Those powerful, possessive feelings had come from nowhere. He didn’t like the thought of Rylie giving Abel that dimpled smile.

  What kind of game was he playing? Asking his brother’s girlfriend to dance?

  He made himself pick up the flash cards again.

  Heartbeat. That was the brainstem.

  Which part of the brain controlled jealousy?

  He threw the cards across the dashboard. No way would he get any studying done with thoughts like those.

  Motion on the horizon caught his eye. For a moment, Seth thought it was the wind blowing through the trees, but then a light flickered. It wasn’t a star—it was a flashlight.

  The hunters, he realized. Rangers and cops looking for coyotes to shoot.

  He glanced at the cellar door. It was locked from the outside.

  The hunters didn’t turn in his direction. The silhouettes on the horizon stayed on the horizon, then faded as they went the other way. The tension in his shoulders relaxed. It would be a long night.

  Seth stretched out on the bench seat and pulled his jacket around his face. A tangled mess of emotions knotted in his chest. The fear that his brother might have lost his fight to stay human was the worst, but the jealousy was a close second.

  He didn’t mean to sleep. He wanted to wait until the hunters were gone, and then check to see if Abel had changed.

  But his eyes were so heavy. He relaxed into the seat.

  The truck warmed with his body heat. Engine sounds made him drift. It was a little like Rylie’s angry growl, which he thought was kind of cute—not that he ever would have told her that.

  He hoped she was okay in the cellar…

  A bang made him startle.

  Seth sat upright. His body was slow. A glance at the dash clock told him he had fallen asleep—and worse, he had slept through most of the night. It was already four in the morning.

  A second bang reminded him why he woke up. He rubbed his hand over the foggy window to see the cellar door shudder.

  The door burst open, and a dark shape exploded from the depths of the cellar.

  No—two shapes.

  Seth’s stomach pitched. He seized his rifle, leaped out of the truck, and almost slipped in the snow. A few extra inches had accumulated in the hours he was unconscious.

  “Wait! Stop!”

  One was clearly Rylie. He had seen her golden fur and sleek body enough times to recognize her.

  The second figure was unfamiliar. It was a huge, black-furred wolf bigger than a horse. He knew who it had to be. There had only been two people locked in the cellar.

  “Abel!”

  They chased each other into the darkness.

  Seth couldn’t run fast enough to keep up with a werewolf, and the truck couldn’t go the kind of places they could. He couldn’t catch them. He had to outsmart them.

  Where would a pair of werewolves go?

  No—wait. He wasn’t dealing with two of them. There were four. And they wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to fight.

  He shouldered his rifle and jumped back in the truck. He drove at an angle to Rylie and Abel’s path, heart pounding out a bass rhythm in his chest.

  Seth took shortcuts through the hills. He didn’t see any killer coyotes, hunters, or werewolves by the time he came upon the first houses. He went straight for the Riese house at top speed and jumped out on the driveway. He didn’t care if anyone saw him with his gun. There was no time to be discreet.

  The entire neighborhood was dark. He prayed nobody would be home.

  He didn’t feel the itching in the back of his neck that would mean Bekah and Levi were nearby. But the house smelled of them. He was sure they would go there first.

  Tires whispered at the end of the street. A white luxury sedan sliced through the snow and stopped in front of the Riese house. Scott Whyte stepped out into the cold morning with a frown.

  “What are you doing here, Seth?” he asked, elbows resting on the open door.

  “Get back in the car,” he said. “Turn around and go back wherever you came from.”

  The psychologist sized up the situation—Seth covered in snow with a gun over his shoulder—and seemed to realize what was happening. “They escaped, didn’t they?”

  “You know where they’ll hunt first,” Seth said. Scott took a heavy jacket and earmuffs out of the car before slamming the door shut. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to help you find them.”

  “What about Bekah and Levi?”

  “They’re in a safe house,” Scott said. “We need to—”

  A distant thunderclap echoed over the silent night. Seth’s head whipped around. Dark shapes with flashlights—more hunters—ran through the snow in the fields beyond the house.

  One of them had fired a gun.

  He broke into a run. Scott followed him, huffing and puffing as he fought to keep up.

  “Hey!” he yelled when he drew close.

  There were two people near the trees: a man in a plaid jacket and a sheriff’s deputy. Both of them had their guns drawn. Even in the darkness, Seth could see they were pale.

  “Who are you?” asked the deputy.

  “He’s with me,” Scott panted, coming up behind Seth. He leaned on his knees and wheezed. “What happened?”

  The deputy seemed to recognize him. Her eyes flicked to Seth’s rifle, then back to Scott. Guns were common enough in the country that she didn’t seem surprised by it. “You need to get inside, sir.”

  “Coyotes?” Scott asked.

  The hunter in plaid and the deputy exchanged looks. They didn’t have to say anything. Their expressions spoke volumes.

  They hadn’t been shooting coyotes.

  “It’s not safe out here,” said the deputy. “Get in your house and stay there, Mr. Whyte. We’re going to follow the trail.”

  Trail?

  Seth realized there was blood in the snow. The world spun around him. Did that belong to Abel, Rylie, or both? Either way, someone had been shot, and not with silver bullets. That was almost worse.

  Now there weren’t just two werewolves on the loose. There were two angry werewolves.

  “Thank you,” Scott said. “We’ll do just that.”

  The hunters moved for the line of trees, following the dribbles of blood. They had already forgotten about Seth and Scott in their pursuit. The deputy barked into the walkie-talkie on her shoulder.

  Seth’s scalp tingled. They were close.

  “I’ll get the restraints,” Scott muttered as soon as they were out of earshot.

  Seth nodded. He could feel a werewolf to the north, not far from the direction the hunters were headed.

  He looped around the trees to avoid the deputy, fingers freezing where they gripped his rifle. The darkness of morning grew lighter. The air turned deep violet as snow showered around him. It was thick and fluffy by the trees.

&nb
sp; Soon Seth was up to his knees and breathing hard. It was like running through quicksand. But adrenaline pushed him on.

  Gunfire cracked a few feet away, making his ears ring.

  In the trees.

  Seth dove behind a snow drift and braced his rifle on a boulder, aiming it at a dark form.

  The plaid-jacketed hunter was on the ground, his shotgun a few inches from his fingers. His head was bloody where it had hit a rock. The deputy was nowhere in sight.

  And a huge black wolf crouched over his body.

  Abel looked up. The ruff of fur at his neck was matted with snow, and his gold eyes glinted when he turned them on Seth. There was no mistaking his brother—even as a wolf.

  “Oh man,” Seth groaned.

  His finger trembled on the trigger.

  Shoot him, whispered his mother’s voice in the back of his head.

  Scott crashed through the trees behind him. “Blessed goddess,” he breathed when he saw Abel. There were thick black ropes in his arms with locks shaped like silver pentacles.

  The sound of his approach started Abel into motion. He lunged.

  Seth reacted on instinct. Jumping up, he swung the butt of the rifle with all his strength.

  It connected with Abel’s face.

  He crumpled.

  Seth stood over his brother, shoulders heaving as he sucked in huge breaths of cold air. It burned his throat and lungs. His eyes were stinging.

  Seth flung the rifle to the ground. He couldn’t shoot. He wouldn’t.

  Even if his brother was a murderer.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Scott said, dropping beside Abel. He expertly wound the ropes around his body and locked them with the silver pentacles, taking care to keep the metal from touching his flesh directly.

  Seth edged around him to inspect the body of the hunter, feeling numb inside and out. It looked like Abel had bitten a chunk out of his upper arm, but that wasn’t what killed him—that was the head injury.

  “Did Abel get shot?” Seth asked.

  Scott lifted a bloody hand. There was a bullet between two fingers. “Yes. In the leg.”

  So Rylie wasn’t nearby. He couldn’t find it in himself to be glad about that. The grief of finding his brother as a werewolf—a beast that had been killing people—was too powerful.