Gray Moon Rising: Seasons of the Moon

by S. M. Reine

  Rylie bounced down the steps on one foot as she tried to pull on her shorts.

  “How did you find us?” she asked, hurrying to Abel’s side.

  “You’ve been missing for hours. I followed your trail. Watch out.” Abel shoved Rylie behind him and raised the gun to point it at Seth.

  He froze in the middle of putting the rifle’s strap across his chest.

  Rylie grabbed Abel’s arm, dragging the pistol down. “Wait!”

  He wrenched away from her with a disbelieving look. “Did you seriously just jump me when I had my finger on the trigger? Do you know how easy it would be to accidentally fire?”

  “You had your finger on the trigger? Did you actually plan on shooting me?” Seth asked. He lifted both of his hands in a gesture of peace. “Dude, trigger discipline.”

  “Yeah, I’d shoot you. You’re here with hunters. You’re here with Mom!” Abel waved the gun at the trees. “That was her, wasn’t it? How else did she know where to find Rylie if it wasn’t for you?”

  “It’s not like that, you big dummy,” she said, angling to put her body between Seth and Abel. “He only followed the hunters so he could help us. He’s still on our side. Okay?”

  “Are you willing to risk your life on that?”

  “Yes,” Rylie said firmly, wrapping her hand around Seth’s.

  Abel glared at them for a moment longer, and then dropped the gun. “You’re hanging out with a bad crowd, bro.”

  “Not anymore,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away from his brother’s gun to watch the trees. It was disturbingly quiet again. Midnight was approaching. “But we shouldn’t talk here. Let’s move.”

  “Okay.” Rylie paused to button up the shorts she had taken from the lost and found before following Abel. She was probably trying to be discreet under her baggy shirt, but Abel noticed anyway. His eyes went from her to Seth, and then his eyebrow lifted.

  “Where’s your shirt, man?”

  Rylie flushed and stared at the sky like it had suddenly become really, really interesting. “I lost it in the cabin,” Seth said, trying not to smirk, or look too hard at his girlfriend, or otherwise project “we had awesome sex” vibes all over the place.

  But hanging out with werewolves made it really, really hard not to share their private business. Their senses were too keen. Abel’s narrowed eyes flicked between both of them, and he could practically see the moment that his brain shifted interpretations of Rylie putting on clothing from “just changed back from werewolf” to “formerly undressed with his half-naked brother.”

  He leaned over Rylie’s shoulder and took a short sniff of the air. She kept staring at the sky. Her face couldn’t get any redder.

  “Lost your shirt. Uh huh,” Abel said. “You lost something.”

  Seth shoved him away from Rylie. “Move it, you ugly maniac. And keep your nose to yourself.”

  He tried to keep his dignity when he ducked back into the cabin for his shirt.

  They were quiet as they headed up the mountain. Rylie and Abel seemed to know where they were going, so Seth took up the rear and watched for any more potential signs of attack. But Abel didn’t seem willing to let him out of his sight. He kept a steady gold eye on Seth over his shoulder.

  After about an hour, Abel stopped them near a trail.

  “I’ll go ahead to the rocks and check on them,” he said. “Keep your clothes on until I get back.”

  He vanished.

  “Check on who?” Seth asked.

  “We’ve met up with other werewolves. Some of them are injured. I think he wants to make sure that you aren’t going to run in and shoot them. Oh, Seth!” Rylie flung her arms around his neck, and he hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s being so… I don’t know. Weird.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.

  “Ignore him,” he said, massaging her back.

  “But Abel knows about us.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So if he knows then—then everyone else will know, too,” Rylie said. It was a pretty lame excuse. Seth held her at arm’s length and studied her face. Even in the dark, he could see that she was still pink-cheeked and having a hard time looking at him.

  “Are you embarrassed because we did it, or because you don’t want Abel to know?”

  She didn’t get an opportunity to respond. Bekah appeared out of the trees.

  “You made it!” She hugged Rylie tightly, and then Seth, too. “I was getting worried! Did you run across the hunters again?”

  “I think we were attacked by a hunter, yeah. But we’re fine. What about everything here? Did Stephanie stitch together the injured wolves?”

  Bekah nodded. “They’re healing. Come on, everyone’s trying to sleep.”

  She led them back to the hollow under the cliff. The group had expanded again. There were three more people squeezed in the back, and they slept on top of each other in a big pile. Stephanie wasn’t sleeping; she was deep in conversation with Abel. Every time Rylie saw her, she seemed to have lost a little more of her composure. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes were shadowed. She still managed to give a thin smile at the sight of Seth.

  “Tell her, Rylie,” Abel said. “Eleanor’s onto us. We have to move tonight.”

  Stephanie huffed. “Not all of these werewolves heal as well as you do. These people have been through a lot, and they’re working their way through silver-inflicted injuries. They need rest.”

  “They’ll get enough time to rest if hunters shoot them in the head!”

  Seth kneeled by the closest of the injured wolves—a sleeping man with olive skin who looked like he hadn’t shaved in a year. He gently moved the gauze to examine the wound. If they had been shot during the beach attack, then Stephanie was right. They were healing too slowly.

  “I think she’s right,” he said. “We should let them sleep it off.”

  Abel folded his arms. “I didn’t ask you.”

  “I’m really tired,” Rylie said helpfully. “Why don’t we take turns staying up to watch for hunters? We can leave in the morning.”

  The vote wasn’t in his favor. Abel threw his hands in the air, making a disgusted noise.

  “Fine. I’ll take first watch.”

  TWENTY

  Counterattack

  Seth and Abel spent the next morning arguing.

  They stood outside the hollow under the cliff and didn’t try to keep their voices down. Rylie listened as she helped Toshiko clean up camp. They covered the blood splatters with dirt and picked up their trash so the Union wouldn’t know they had slept there.

  “We can’t stay ahead of the hunters forever. They know too much,” Seth said. “Motion trackers, cameras, heat sensors, guns—”

  “That’s why we should just go to the top of the mountain.”

  “But they’ll expect to find you there. We have to go on the offensive.” Seth lowered his voice, but Rylie’s hearing was good enough that it didn’t really matter. “Get Stephanie’s phone, call Scott, get the van…”

  Abel gave a derisive snort. “I’m not going anywhere until I know why we’re here. I need answers!”

  “Your answers could get everyone killed. They could get Rylie killed,” Seth snapped.

  Her ears burned. She focused on putting trash in the bag that Toshiko held. The other werewolves were quickly working through their short supply of food, even though trying to choke down cans of vegetables was difficult for werewolves. They would have to find a new supply of food—preferably meat—and they would have to do it fast.

  Stephanie finished working on a patient, who shivered with a werewolf’s healing heat. She brushed a thick lock of hair off her forehead with her wrist, since her latex-gloved fingertips were bloody. “You should heal quickly now. Tell me immediately if you notice another bullet fragment emerging.” The doctor gestured to Rylie. “Bring me the trash bag.”

  Rylie took the bag and hurried over, holding it open so the doctor could drop her gloves into it. “Is ev
eryone going to be okay?”

  “These ones will be, thanks to my efforts,” Stephanie said. She gave Rylie an appraising look. “Let’s have a chat.” They walked to the back end of the hollow, several feet away from the nearest werewolf. Everyone was starting to move for the entrance. “This is an ugly situation, and it’s only going to get uglier. You know that, right? Quite a few people will die.”

  The memory of Trick sprawling on the sand struck her again anew. Rylie’s gut clenched. “I know.”

  “Seth is right. We must get off the mountain. But given the Union’s monitoring, it will be more difficult than just calling Scott. We can only fit so many in the van, and anyone left behind would be slaughtered. We must disable the devices at the Union camp first.”

  “But that’s a death trap.”

  “Yes. It could be, especially for anyone who attempts it as a human. You and Bekah are the only ones who can change between moons, so you’ll have to do it, as much as I hate endangering children.”

  “Abel won’t ever let me do that,” Rylie whispered.

  “We’ll separate. Abel will lead everyone up the mountain. You, Bekah, and Seth can splinter off to attack the Union.”

  “What about you?”

  “My skills as a doctor are too valuable to risk losing. Given the lack of alternatives, I’ll stay with the group. So what do you think, Rylie?”

  She cast her gaze at Abel and Seth at the head of the hollow. It was a steep climb to the surface, so she could only see their legs. Their argument must not have gone well, because they weren’t facing each other anymore. “I’ll talk to Bekah.”

  “I was listening,” Bekah interrupted. She was seated a few feet away as she tried to eat a can of green beans. “Super hearing, remember? It’s a decent plan. Let’s do it.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “Before I think about it too much.”

  So it was settled. All the werewolves congregated on the trail outside the rocks. Their numbers had somehow grown again, and there were over a dozen people Rylie didn’t recognize. They were a pretty weird mix of ages and nationalities. Many of them didn’t even seem to understand English.

  Abel climbed on a tall rock to point at the mountain’s peak. “We’re almost there. Let’s finish this!” he shouted.

  It was a pretty universal sentiment. People headed up the trail.

  Rylie hung back with Bekah to whisper the plan to Seth, who indicated agreement by giving her hand a hard squeeze.

  Even though they were turning into a pretty big crowd, it seemed impossible to find a chance to sneak off. The group moved slowly. They had to keep stopping to let the injured people catch up.

  And Abel watched Rylie closely. Every time she turned around, she caught sight of his eyes tracking her every motion. It was like getting Seth back only made her more of a target for his watchful stare.

  The entire day passed without a chance for her to leave.

  “We should go,” Bekah whispered to Rylie in the middle of the night. They had stopped to rest in a thicket, and everyone was scattered through the trees. “Now. While everyone’s sleeping.”

  But Abel wasn’t sleeping. He sat in a nearby tree, where he had destroyed another tracking device, and watched over everyone.

  “Not yet,” Rylie whispered back.

  She fell asleep before they could sneak out that night. And the next day wasn’t good for leaving, either. They had to make supply runs back to Camp Silver Brook in order to feed everyone, and Abel didn’t let Rylie or Seth do it.

  As they climbed higher on the mountain—so horribly slowly—the air got thinner and colder. Patches of snow started to appear. The plants were browner, the ground was muddier, and getting colder only made everyone even slower.

  Rylie thought she was going to go crazy.

  But eventually, the moment did arrive. It was early in the morning on the following day. Abel went off the trail to shoot a few devices he spotted in the trees, and Rylie, Seth, and Bekah jumped at the chance. They left as soon as he was out of sight.

  “Abel is going to kill me,” Rylie muttered, keeping an eye out for him as they ran deeper into the forest.

  “He would have to get to you before the Union does.” Bekah’s cheeks were colorless, and she didn’t even attempt to smile at her weak joke. “I can’t believe I’m going back there willingly.”

  “We’ll make it fast,” Seth said. “In and out. We have to kill their generators and grab the phone. It will be easy.”

  “Easy. Yeah. Right.” That didn’t really comfort Rylie at all.

  She remembered the route to the old settlement on the mountain, even though it had been a long time since she was tied up in its church. Bekah was too disoriented to find it, and Seth had difficulty keeping up with them, so Rylie took the lead.

  They must have traveled for a couple of hours, but time made no sense in the forest. But the smell of gun oil and silver was easy to follow. When the trees started to thin, she stopped.

  “It’s about a quarter of a mile that way,” she said, pointing. Fear and anxiety clenched her throat shut. It was hard to breathe, much less speak.

  “There are black boxes everywhere,” Bekah said, staring up at the trees. “They’ll know we’re coming. Should we shoot them?”

  Seth checked his rifle and the extra ammunition he had taken from Abel’s duffel bag. “In about two minutes, it won’t matter if they know we’re coming. You should shift now.”

  That was the part that worried Rylie the most—the part where she was not only supposed to change on command, but not kill her friends while she did it. But she didn’t need to worry about the first one. Going in to fight with the Union had already stirred her wolf, and her fingernails were itching.

  Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. “What if I kill someone?”

  “I’ll be there,” Seth said firmly. “You won’t.”

  Bekah gave them a faint smile. “Good luck, guys.”

  She stripped down and changed. She had the process down to an art; it only took a few moments, and if it hurt, there was no way to tell. Fur swept down her body in elegant lines. Her tail extended with a crunch at the same time as her face. She lowered to all fours before her popping knees made her fall.

  Before long, a wolf with a honey-blond coat stood in front of them. It shook blood out of its fur. Even in a nice transition, there was no way to stop some minor injuries.

  Rylie was sick with nerves. She grabbed Seth’s hand.

  “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered.

  He kissed her gently. “Trust me, Rylie. And trust yourself.”

  Seth backed away, but he never looked away from her. He trusted her. She knew it with every fiber of her being.

  Rylie shut her eyes and let go.

  Yasir was getting his unit ready to move out when one of the witches interrupted him.

  “You should see this,” Raven wheezed, out of breath.

  He followed her to the monitoring RV. The outpost was empty aside from his team and a few witches who had stayed behind to keep an eye on the werewolves locked in the church; it was like walking through a ghost town.

  “What is it?” he asked, leaning over her chair to punch the button that brought up recent alarms. The list was huge. It registered movements every thirty seconds, which included everything from squirrels and fat caterpillars to herds of deer.

  “We’ve been following the two surviving groups of thirty-twenties since the beach assault,” Raven said. “The smaller one is heading up the mountain. I think they’re going to the peak.”

  Yasir nodded impatiently. “Right. I was about to address that with my team.”

  “The big one is going around to the other side of the forest, maybe to attempt an escape.” When he opened his mouth to speak again, she hurriedly went on. “I know the other unit is already going after them with the vehicle fleet. They should converge in thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, so we’ll have all the wolves confined or killed by the end of the day. What’s
the problem?”

  “If those are the only two groups left… then what’s this?”

  Raven highlighted a few recent alarms he hadn’t noticed. Their corresponding coordinates looked familiar.

  He scanned the monitor with the map and saw a single red dot that had broken off from the other, bigger clusters of dots.

  It was right outside the camp.

  He breathed a swear word in Arabic. Yasir wasn’t a fluent speaker, but his grandpa had taught him a few of the worst phrases for fun when he was a kid, and he liked to save them for special occasions. And there was no occasion more special than realizing there was something unfriendly on his front doorstep.

  Yasir burst out of the RV. “Team! Move it!” he roared.

  His teammates ran over. They were only half-prepared for an attack. Jakob had his ammo belt on, but no gun. Stripes only had knives.

  “What is it?” Jakob asked.

  “I think Eleanor is back,” Yasir said grimly. “We’re delaying the mission.”

  He grabbed ropes off a supply table as they ran out to meet the red dot in the forest.

  But it wasn’t Eleanor waiting for them.

  Seth stood on top of a felled tree with the rifle Yasir had given him. There were two very large, very shaggy wolves standing in front of him—about three times the size of the average timber wolf. One of them was growling, drooling, and trying to chew off its own foot as the other sniffed the air.

  Both of them turned golden-eyed stares on the men when they burst through the trees. The moon wasn’t for three days, but they were unmistakably, undeniably werewolves, and the unit had nothing more than a knife among them.

  “Afternoon,” Seth said cheerfully.

  The werewolves jumped.

  They moved like lightning, too inconceivably fast for his mind to follow. Stripes screamed. A furry body knocked Yasir into a tree hard enough to make the breath rush out of his lungs. He flung his arms over his face with a ragged gasp, bracing himself for the bite—but it never came.

  Both wolves darted past them and into the compound. Seth followed.