Ghost Moon

by Cheree Alsop

  I couldn’t help the smile that ran across my face.

  “Zev, are you crazy? You can’t take them all!” Ceren protested.

  “They’re hurting the dog,” I said in an undertone without looking at her.

  “They’ll kill you!” Her voice was high with worry.

  I didn’t bother to reply that it was a risk I was willing to take.

  The smell of blood from the dog drove me forward. I could hear the quiet whimpers that it let out with every breath. I hoped I could get it to help in time.

  The gang members moved toward me. I backed closer to the wall on my left in order to keep them from surrounding me entirely. I spoke as I sized them up to distract them.

  “What did the dog do to you?”

  “He lost me a grand tonight,” the leader said. “So I’m taking it out of his hide.”

  I glanced at the dog. Bite marks were evident along the animal’s ears, muzzle, and shoulder. Red stained his white neck.

  “He’s been fighting?”

  “Yeah,” a man with a straggly goatee said from the leader’s right. “If you could call it that. He’s worthless now.” He spat on the ground at my feet. “A fighter that can’t fight isn’t worth the food to feed him.”

  The flash of a knife caught my eye. The woman held it low. Her eyes never left my chest. Her knees were bent and when she moved, it was with a fluid, deadly motion. Instincts told me that out of all of the brawlers around me, she would be the most dangerous.

  Other knives were drawn. The leader passed his club to the man at his side and then opened a butterfly knife with quick, precise movements.

  “I’ll gut you and leave you with the mutt,” he said. His eyes shone in anticipation. “Two curs in one night.”

  I fought back the urge to growl at the insult I had heard all growing up. I could have phased and taught them exactly what it meant to insult a werewolf, but my emotions were so tangled from my conversation with Ceren that I needed the cleansing rush of adrenaline to help me feel like myself again. Like the monster again.

  I dove into the fray.

  Usually, I didn’t make the first move. But with eight assailants, my focus needed to be to eliminate as many of the lesser threats as possible so I could keep my attention on the real ones.

  I ducked under a knife slash, drove my elbow into one knee and felt it crack, then spun on the gravel and slammed a fist into the knee of the next man. I caught the second man on his way down and drove a punch into his chin that sent his head rebounding off the pavement.

  Catching the blade of a knife aimed for my head, I spun under the man’s arm, flipped him over my back, and threw him into two others. I followed with double knees to his chest and silenced the two he knocked over with a haymaker to each jaw.

  I rolled over the pile before another knife could embed in my back and rose with the dog behind me. A quick check showed that it was still breathing.

  The leader swiped at me with his blade. I dodged back and then kicked it out of his hand before he could regain his balance. When he looked up to follow its flight, I punched him once in the throat, swung a haymaker that connected with his head, and then drove an elbow into his back to drop him to the ground.

  I held out a hand and caught the knife on its way back down.

  The woman and two men remained.

  The one whose knee I had destroyed in my first attack was struggling to his feet.

  “Who are you?” the man closest to me demanded.

  I passed the knife to my left hand.

  “Someone who doesn’t like gang violence,” I replied.

  His eyes narrowed. “And what do you call this?”

  I glanced around the alley. “Violence toward a gang, and I’m alright with that.”

  He gritted his teeth and charged with the bat held above his head.

  I blocked the bat with my forearms, slammed one fist into his stomach, tore the bat free when he hunched over, and landed it with a resounding crack on his back. He fell to the pavement with a thud.

  I now had a knife and a bat. I twirled the bat experimentally. It was weighted well. The knife, on the other hand, was poor quality. The hinges for the butterfly opening were heavy and it was balanced wrong. I had never liked butterfly knives for that reason.

  I unclipped the hasp with one hand, spun it around to close it, and then shoved it in my pocket without taking my eyes off my assailants.

  The woman and man advanced. The man held his knife so tight in his right hand that the cords of his arm stood out taut against his skin. The woman’s blade was in her left, held casually by the point and low as if she hoped I wouldn’t notice it. Limpy, the first man I had attacked, leaned against the closest wall as if wondering the right course of action for his survival.

  The man attacked first, as I had guessed he would. I blocked one swipe and then another with the bat. His swings were wild, but the strength behind them said that if he did reach me, I was going to pay for it.

  As I fought him, I kept one half of my focus on the woman. Sure enough, her left hand drew back just enough to warn me.

  The man made a swipe for my eyes. I stepped back just far enough to feel the slight breeze the blade made as it passed my face. I followed his arc and landed a punch to his ear. He spun all the way around with his momentum before dropping to the ground.

  I raised the bat just as a cry sounded from Ceren. The blade the woman threw sunk deep into the wood where I held it in front of my face. If I hadn’t lifted the club, the knife would have stabbed deep into my left eye.

  I yanked the knife free and dropped the bat. As I advanced on the woman, I wasn’t surprised to see her pull two more blades from the back of her pants.

  I passed the knife to my right hand. Her eyes barely flickered. She kept her attention on the place just below my neck; it was the same way I had been taught to avoid being drawn out by a fake. My muscles tightened and my body fell into the stance of a knife fighter.

  When she lunged, I parried with the blade and attempted to catch her knife, but she pulled it back to leave a line of red fire down my forearm.

  A squeak of fear escaped Ceren.

  I kept my attention on the woman. Triumph showed in her light blue eyes. The sound of my blood dripping to the ground from my lowered hand calmed my nerves. The adrenaline that rushed through my veins slowed; my heartbeat evened out into a steady thump that rumbled in my ears. I knew what I was doing. I had been born for this.

  When she attacked again, I blocked with the blade and then my left forearm to keep her second knife from reaching my cheek. She spun away to untangle our arms and lashed back with two jabs that would have opened my stomach if I hadn’t moved just in time. Her gaze tightened at my elusiveness and she lunged forward once more. I batted her blades away, sending one across the alley, and kicked at her stomach. She barely moved back in time, but kept the taunting smile on her face.

  “You messed with the wrong gang,” she said, her voice sultry and deadly.

  “What, his?” I asked, nodding toward the leader I had already taken down.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Mine,” she replied.

  I lifted a shoulder. “They definitely follow him. You guys need to have a meeting about that or something. Leader confusion can be devastating for a gang.”

  She glared at me. “There is no confusion.”

  “You sure?” I asked, switching my knife to my left hand. “Limpy there doesn’t know whether to come to your rescue or run.”

  She glanced to the side. It was the lapse I was waiting for.

  I grabbed her left hand and met the resulting attack of her right with my blade. She pulled her hand back and stabbed at my face. I blocked the knife again. Using my werewolf strength, I forced my knife handle into hers with such power her blade flew from her hands.

  She clawed at my eyes. I caught her hand and threw her against the wall. She hit with a thump that knocked the air from her.

  The last man took a limping step forward.r />
  “You think that’s a good idea?” I asked.

  He glanced around at the rest of the fallen gang members.

  “Probably not,” he admitted.

  He leaned against the wall and slid to a sitting position near the woman.

  “Good decision,” I told him.

  I knelt and gathered the dog in my arms. He was larger than I had first thought. Muscles rippled beneath his skin and scars showed where he had survived fights before. His short white fur was speckled in blood. Another whimper escaped from him when I stood up.

  “I’ve got you,” I told the dog quietly. “You’re safe now.”

  I walked past the gang, careful to keep an eye on them in case anyone decided to try something stupid.

  When I reached the leader, I saw his hand twitch just enough to give him away. As soon as my foot was near, he pulled another knife from his pants and stabbed at me.

  I kicked his wrist and sent the knife flying. Another well-placed kick behind the ear knocked him out.

  “Consider the headache you’re going to have when you wake up as karma,” I said on my way to the mouth of the alley. I glanced over my shoulder. “And if I hear of any of you involved in dog fighting again, I’ll come back for each of you.”

  The two gang members who had struggled to their knees to watch me leave nodded. The fear on their faces let me know that I had at least left an impression on them. With the injured dog in my arms needing care, that would have to be good enough for now.

  I projected feelings of safety and security to the animal as I walked. Its tense, injured muscles eventually eased. With its head on my shoulder and its legs dangling between my arms, the dog gave a pained sigh. I listened to its breathing steady into the rhythmic cadence of sleep. A feeling of satisfaction rose in my chest. At the very least, he was safe. I left the city and made my way through the forest toward Brickwell.

  “What was that?” Ceren demanded a few minutes later as though she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

  “Just letting off some steam,” I replied, keeping my tone level.

  I saw her face blanche out of the corner of my eye. “By taking on an entire gang by yourself? That was insane! It was madness!”

  When I didn’t answer, she continued with, “I’ve never seen someone take such a risk. They wanted to kill you! Did you hear that guy? He would have gutted you with this dog, and happily!”

  I had heard, and the threat still festered. I wondered if I should have left him as the one gutted in the alley instead of just unconscious and probably concussed. I was trying not to kill people, but maybe I should have made an exception for a dog abuser. By the angle of his bat, he would have slain the animal if I hadn’t stepped in.

  “You could have called that friend of yours, Virgo. I’ll bet he would have picked you up instead of you having to walk all the way to Brickwell like this,” Ceren continued. “You really need to start thinking about logistics, especially when you’re trailing blood this entire way.”

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. The rage, the adrenaline, and the frustration I felt had been bottled up to the point that I could no longer keep it inside. I whirled on Ceren.

  “What would you have me do? I couldn’t walk away and let them just kill him. What kind of a monster would I be then?”

  My chest heaved up and down. It was all I could do to keep from saying more.

  She watched me for a moment, her gaze unreadable. When she finally lowered her eyes, something akin to sadness washed over her expression.

  “I shouldn’t have called you a monster.”

  “It’s what I am, Ceren. I’m a monster.”

  I started walking again.

  She was silent for a moment before she said, “A monster wouldn’t have risked his life to save a dog, a monster wouldn’t have conversations with an eight-year-old girl behind a cereal box, and a monster wouldn’t entertain a lost, lonely ghost when he could just as easily have pretended not to see her.”

  Her words came out steadily as if she had been thinking them for a while.

  “Zev, you’re not a monster,” she finally concluded quietly.

  I couldn’t look her way when I replied, “I am a monster.”

  “No, you’re not,” she began.

  I cut her off and said, “I know what I am. I turn into a wolf, into an animal. That makes me a monster in this world.” I glanced at her. The sadness of her brown eyes made me let out a breath. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have empathy for someone else.” I lifted the sleeping dog meaningfully. “Even if it might get me killed.”

  “You weren’t close to getting killed,” Ceren replied. “I’ve never seen anything like that. They were in trouble, not you.” She paused, then said, “Except your arm.”

  I glanced at it. Drying blood covered my forearm from my elbow to my wrist.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I told her.

  At her questioning expression, I knelt and rubbed my forearm on my leg, taking care not to jostle the dog. When I rose, the red line from the knife blade was merely a scratch that tingled in the light of the moon.

  “See?”

  Ceren stared at it. “But that gash was nearly to the bone. It was bleeding like crazy.” She met my eyes. “How is that possible?”

  I allowed a small smile to touch my lips. “One of the perks of being a monster.”

  She followed me deeper into the trees. “I don’t understand.”

  I gestured toward the dark sky. “The moonlight heals werewolves. It speeds the healing process and helps our bodies recover much quicker than humans.”

  “That’s neat,” she said, her tone uncertain.

  “It comes in handy,” I replied.

  “But you could still have been killed,” she said as more of a question than a statement.

  I didn’t answer her.

  Alia, her mother, and James were just visible through the kitchen window when I reached the Willard house. I tapped on the door with my foot and waited for them to open it.

  “Oh my goodness,” Alia gasped when she opened to door. “What happened?”

  She stepped back and I carried the dog inside. “A gang was going to kill it. I barely stopped them in time. At least, I hope I was in time.”

  “Bring him over here,” Mrs. Willard directed.

  She spread a tablecloth over the table where they had been sitting. I recognized it as the same one they had used when Ian and James carried me in injured and bleeding in my wolf form.

  James helped me set the dog down gently. He stirred at the feeling of the table beneath him, but I calmed him with a hand on his shoulder. His pain-filled eyes closed again.

  “Tell us what happened,” Mrs. Willard said.

  I kept the details sparse, aware of Ceren watching me from the far corner. I left out the part with the girl and knives, me throwing gang members into each other, and the leader’s head hitting the ground. In truth, I barely mentioned the violence at all. I couldn’t say who I was trying to protect, but the result was the same.

  “He’s in bad shape,” Alia said when she finished checking the animal over. “I think we should take him to Mr. Rexas. I’ll text him.”

  “I agree,” Mrs. Willard seconded as she put a blanket over the dog. “He’s got a soft spot for pit bulls.”

  “Who’s Mr. Rexas?” Concern for the dog’s wellbeing filled me. I stepped forward to help them.

  “He’s the vet I trained under,” Alia replied. “He’s really great at what he does. He’ll take good care of this big guy.”

  She set a gentle hand on the dog’s head. The dog gave a little whine and wagged his stubby tail. Alia’s phone beeped and she glanced at it. “He says we can come right away. He had an emergency call he just finished with and was just getting ready to leave the office.”

  I moved to pick up the dog again, but James beat me to it.

  “I’ve got him, don’t worry,” he told me. “You look like you could use some rest.”

  “
Yes,” his mother agreed, eyeing me worriedly. “Is some of that blood yours?”

  I shook my head. “It’s his.” I didn’t feel the need to mention the fact that some probably belonged to a few of the gang members. “I’m fine. I really can help.”

  “Get some sleep,” Mrs. Willard said. “If you walked all the way from Township, you need it.” She gave me a motherly smile. “And a shower.” She paused in following James out the door and commented, “Probably a shower first.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

  A thought struck me and I asked, “If he’s the vet, why didn’t you guys take me over there when I got hit?”

  “Because,” Mrs. Willard replied. “We know better than to show up with an injured wolf. Can you imagine the trouble that would have caused?”

  A chuckle escaped me at the thought of the trouble them keeping the wolf had caused. An answering laugh came from the woman before she winked at me and shut the door.

  Chapter Ten

  I didn’t have to open my eyes to know that Ceren was standing outside of the shower.

  “Are you spying on me?” I asked as I scrubbed shampoo through my hair.

  “If I was spying, I wouldn’t say anything,” Ceren replied. “I would be perfectly silent.”

  “That would be the day,” I muttered, but without any bite to it.

  I closed my eyes and let the hot water run down my head and across my shoulders. It was perhaps the most wonderful feeling in the entire world. I had endured cold showers in the Lair fed by an underground stream that turned the body to ice wherever it touched. Most showers were a survival affair, rushed through because it was ordered once a week and we didn’t want to attract too many vermin to our beds. Also, many of our paranormal enemies relied at least partially on their sense of smell; it didn’t do to become the obvious target.

  When I was younger, I couldn’t imagine enjoying getting clean. Now, I couldn’t think of anything better than scrubbing off the remnants of my fight with the gang using warm water and soap that smelled of the forest.

  “Are you going to stay in there all night?”