The Lunam Legacy (The Lunam Series Book 3)

by Nicole Loufas

  I bolt out the door and down to the street. I refrain from calling her name because my grandparents live two buildings away. Which means my mom is nearby. The last person she wants to see is Raine. They have competed for my attention, love, and respect for years. Now they’re officially on opposite sides of a line, waiting to see which way I fall.

  “Abbi?” Raine yells from the corner.

  I leap into her arms, slobbering apologies into her hair. “I’m sorry. I am happy for you and Oz.”

  “I’m sorry too. I was a major bitch. Please forgive me.”

  When Ozzy gets out of the car, I hug him and wonder if he’s spoken to Jay. It takes a tremendous amount of willpower not to ask about him.

  She takes my hand, and we walk to my building. “We found a place to have the ceremony. It’s happening in two weeks.”

  “That soon?”

  “We have almost thirty participants. Parents are even helping prepare, there are so many traditions and rituals. It’s overwhelming but so incredible.” She gushes over details with a light in her eyes I’ve never seen before. “It isn’t just a ceremony. The party starts in the morning and goes all night and into the next day. It’s part rave, part campout, part phasing into a wolf for the first time. We have a DJ and food. It’s like the prom we never had.” She makes the ceremony sound like a once-in-a-lifetime event, and I’m missing it. Fear of missing out is a powerful thing.

  “I’m happy for both of you.” We share a group hug. When we break, I tell them my good news. “Mom got me into city college. I start next week.”

  They share a look of pity. “That’s great, Abs, but is that what you really want?”

  “Of course it is.” I doesn’t even convince myself. For years I cried for the freedom to make my own choices. Now that I’m faced with two paths, I can’t decide which one to take.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jay

  Raine told me to wait in the car. It’s been an hour, and I’m still sitting here like a stalker down the street from Abbi’s new apartment. This is a nice neighborhood. Top of the food chain nice. My father was right about the Tallacs. When they thrived, my family fell apart.

  I lost both of my grandparents in the big fire: Lowell Duke, the man who raised Dillan and Adel my biological grandmother. I remember bits and pieces of her. She was a quiet, timid woman with a loving smile. Adel set money aside for Dillan in the event of her death. That money kept food in my belly and clothes on my back all these years. I never dreamt about living someplace like this.

  I pull out my phone to text Raine and suddenly Abbi runs down the street. Her face shines with excitement. I grip the door handle, ready to jump out and swoop her into my arms. Raine beats me to her. She can have her moment. I plan to spend the rest of my life with Abbi in my arms. I check my hair in the mirror, then my breath. I’ve planned my speech. I know exactly what I’m going to say. How I’m going to win her back. I don’t even care about the ceremony.

  I tap the steering wheel as they disappear around the corner. I wait ten minutes, then text Raine:

  Me: Was this part of the plan?

  I don’t even know the plan. She told me to come to this address if I wanted to see Abbi. Here I sit. It takes six minutes for Raine to reply.

  Raine: I don’t want to push her too far. Let’s regroup tomorrow.

  Me: What the hell? Does she want to see me or not? What did she say?

  Raine: Trust me, Jay. This is not a good night. Let me work on getting her to the ceremony. That’s what matters, right?

  Raine is trying to let me down easy. Of course Abbi is going to forgive her. They’re best friends. I’m just some guy who showed up at camp and rejected her. There’s an old song lyric that goes You don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone. Well, I never really had Abbi, yet I feel a tremendous loss. The what-if’s are brutal.

  What if I’d taken her virginity in the boom-boom room?

  What if I’d told her the truth from the beginning?

  What if she never wanted to be with me?

  I start the truck and take off, nearly side-swiping an SUV. They honk. I press the gas pedal harder without looking back.

  ◆◆◆

  I crash at my father’s place in Pacifica while I wait for Raine to text me with news about Abbi. Three days go by, and I hear nothing but updates on the location site, followed by details about food and sleeping arrangements. I could give a shit about any of that. I don’t even want to go to the ceremony. I just want to make things right with Abbi. I consider doing a drive-by past her house, but the stalker laws in California are no joke. I haven’t even checked her social media. Seeing her face makes me insane. I need to clear my head and figure out my next move. When a report comes in of a swell in Santa Cruz, I group-text Raine and Ozzy that I’m going off the grid.

  Ozzy: Dude, just come back to Tahoe. We need you here.

  Me: The waves are calling.

  Ozzy: We can’t do this without you.

  Raine: Quit being a dumbass and call her. I’ll tell her to call you.

  Me: NO. Stay out of it, Raine. Oz, a lil help here.

  Ozzy: I can’t control her. Believe me I’ve tried.

  Raine: I know ur not talking bout me!

  Me: I’ll be back for the ceremony.

  Ozzy: Hit me up if you need anything, bro.

  It takes five minutes for me to pack my shit and load the truck. My father’s most important life lesson was how to pack. Minimal and micro. I roll my shirts into a log and fold a few pairs of shorts on top of them. A week’s worth of clothes fit neatly into my backpack. I’m tying down my board when I hear ringing. Nobody calls me, everyone texts. Did Oz tell Abbi to call? I drop everything and bolt into the house. I pull the charger out of the wall as I answer the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, you.”

  It’s Lauren.

  “When are you coming home?”

  I look around the apartment. “I am home.”

  “I mean back to me… the sanctuary.”

  “Since when is the sanctuary home?” Since when does she want me? “I’m going to see this through.” I brace for her wrath.

  “You can’t be serious. That was never the plan.”

  Our original plan was to expose the Tallacs and turn their children against them. Ozzy is the reason we’re having the ceremony. He believes it will grant him, and the other Meyers kids, independence. Even if the pack has been dissolved, their families are still in control. At the very least, Ozzy will have the right to choose who he loves and how he will live his life. After spending time with Abbi, I get it. She is incapable of making her own choices. I didn’t realize this until our last day at camp. I was no better than her mother, forcing her choose, to say what I needed to hear. I didn’t listen to her. If I get the opportunity to make it right, I will, but I won’t force it. That’s why I’m not calling or texting her. She needs to make the first move, otherwise I’ll never know if it’s real.

  Lauren softens her tone. “I miss you.”

  I won’t go there with her again. “Things have changed.”

  “You wanted to bring them down. You wanted to out their parents and expose the lie, not become one of them. What changed?”

  Not what, who.

  “It’s her, isn’t it?” Lauren raises her voice. “You think you’re in love with her now?” She laughs. It’s a mean, ugly laugh. “You’re going to the ceremony so you can match with her?”

  “The ceremony is part of our heritage, who we are. It’s our birthright, even yours.”

  She is silent. A quiet woman is scary. “As if I’d go to the ceremony. What would I gain? I’ve already lost you.”

  “You didn’t want me.”

  “Plans change.” This is her game. One step forward, fifteen steps back. “Maybe I will go to the ceremony and prove to you we’re a match.”

  That isn’t funny on so many levels. The last thing I want is Lauren popping up at the ceremony. She knows another versi
on of me. I’m not the spiteful, vindictive man who left Oregon to bring down the Tallac family. If Abbi ever found out the truth, she’d never believe we’re meant to be. What I say next its crucial to keeping Lauren from coming to California.

  “I never said I was going to be part of the ceremony. I’m just consulting with dad.” I check the strap on my board. “In fact, I’m following some waves south. I’ll probably circle back to Oregon in a few weeks with Oz. Let’s talk more when I get back.”

  “Promise?” She sounds hopeful, like she wants to believe my bullshit. I’ve gone off the grid to surf with my dad plenty of times. This is nothing new.

  “Absolutely.”

  I power down my phone and drop it into my backpack. In the past I’ve given my father hell for bailing on life. For dropping everything to surf whenever things got hard. Now here I am, doing the same thing, repeating his sins. Am I destined to live my life on a board? Letting the waves decide my future? Or am I going to stick it out on land? Unlike Dad, I have something to stay dry for. Someone. All I have to do if figure out a way to convince her she wants me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The courtyard outside the administration building is filled with protesters. Signs bob up and down, accusing the dean of taking bribes. Another sign condemns students who allegedly paid their way to the top of the list. They might as well plaster my picture all over this quad, because I’m guilty of everything they’re marching against. The strings my mother pulled to get me into this school have a face, a voice. A gray-haired, middle-aged woman holds a sign that says ”You’re Welcome” in bright red letters. Beneath the statement is a cartoon drawing of a man climbing stairs to the word success, only the stairs aren’t made of wood or steel, they’re the backs of people.

  In the comfort of my home, safe in my bubble, I’m grateful for my mother’s connections and her persistence when it came to securing my admission. I’ve seen protests on television and the internet, but hearing the chants, smelling the desperation, feeling their hatred, changes things. I watch at the edge of the grass, scared to make my way through the crowd. Others push past me, wearing their privilege like a suit of armor.

  “It’s always like this,” someone says. “Don’t let them intimidate you.” A tiny girl in a yellow dress, clutching a book bag to her chest, comments on the scene. “They like to harass the rich kids to make sure they know how lucky they are.” She checks her cell phone, then tucks it into her bag. She refers to rich kids as if she isn’t one of them.

  “You won the lottery?” I guess.

  “Last year.” She pulls her badge out. “I’m a year two.”

  Her name is Summer Chandler. The name suits her: long blonde hair and sky-blue eyes.

  “I’ll show you around.” Summer moves toward the mob. “It’s always crowded on the last day of registration. The more people they can intimidate into backing out, the better chance they have of being drawn from the waitlist.”

  I recall the news articles about people waiting five, six, seven years on the waitlist, only to age off because rich kids like me have parents with money and power. I am the reason they’re here. I’m the problem. I’ve spent the better half of my life complaining about my dreams, my future. As we near the crowd, I look at the angry faces, old and young, and I wonder whose spot I’m taking. Whose dream am I stealing?

  Summer grips my arm. “Keep walking.” She trudges forward with her badge dangling around her neck. She’s right. Nobody throws insults her way. They’re here for me. My kind.

  “Summer.” I stop. “I can’t do this.”

  “Don’t let them win.” Her hand slips down to mine. “It’s right up ahead. Once we get through the door, it’s smooth sailing.” This girl has no reason to help me. Nothing to gain. She’s a good person, unlike me.

  “I can’t. I didn’t earn my spot here. My mother paid—”

  Her hand falls from mine. “Oh.” She steps back.

  “I don’t deserve to be here.”

  I back away. The mob grows louder. I run to my Jeep. It’s easy to be a tough girl in Meyers. Everyone bows to my family, now I know why. If I want to make it on my own, I can’t start with an advantage. Mom will never understand. Kalysia has dreams of her own for me. Today I’m crushing them.

  ◆◆◆

  Trevor is in his room when I get home. A small suitcase lies on the bed.

  “Knock, knock,” I call and push his door open.

  He turns from his dresser with a handful of socks. “That was quick.”

  I sit on his bed and fold a shirt the way Mom taught me, so it turns into a little square. “I didn’t do it.”

  “What do you mean?” He tosses the socks into the top pocket of the suitcase.

  “I decided not to go to school.”

  “I’m so glad I’m out of here for a few days.”

  “Why?”

  “You mother.”

  I’m not going to dwell on the negative right now. I’m riding the wave of self-righteousness as long as I can.

  “Can I borrow your toiletry bag? It has more pockets than mine.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I walk to the bathroom and retrieve it from under the sink. When I stand up, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Today I stood for something. I blew my one shot at going to college, but I feel good about myself.

  “Here you go.” I hand him the bag, and he loads it with items from the top of his dresser: condoms, cologne, gum. He’s packing like he’s going to a rave. I look at his clothes. His best jeans and T-shirts with designer insignias embroidered across the chest. With Raine in charge, I can’t even imagine the kind of party being planned. And I’m going to miss it.

  “What about you? You ready to find your true love?”

  “Ha. No. I’m just trying looking for a place to be me. When you’re in my shoes, you can’t leave any stone unturned.”

  Trevor leaves and I’m sitting alone in our apartment. This isn’t even our place. As much as Trevor loves his king-size bed and the free wi-fi, this place isn’t his home. We thought leaving Meyers would solve all of our problems. All it’s done was prove Meyers wasn’t the problem. Me and Trevor, Rory, Ozzy, and Raine, we’ve always been searching for purpose. The Lunam Ceremony gives us purpose. I won’t go in blind.

  The library at Layla’s house is stocked with books. It doesn’t take long to find the one I’m looking for. The worn leather spine is frayed, but the gold lettering remains intact. She read The Story of Gaia to me when I was little. She called them fables, but now I know better. She was teaching me the history of our kind. They didn’t always plan to kill the wolf inside me. At some point they believed I would phase. Layla was preparing me for that day.

  “That book was your favorite.” Monte enters the room. “I have a better one.” He reaches for a book on the top shelf. “This one too. You’ll need all of these to get a true understanding of who you are.” He places a stack in my arms. “You’ve always been ravenous for knowledge. That’s the trait of a great leader.” He kisses my forehead and leaves.

  I take my homework back to the apartment and spread the books on the living room floor. Following Raine has been the theme of my life, allowing her to make decisions about everything from pizza toppings to my hair color. Raine was the leader or so she thought. Silently coaxing her into believing she was the one who loved pineapple on her pizza wasn’t difficult. People like her only need to believe they are in charge. True leadership is isn’t learned, it’s inherited. Monte can see that in me, he always has.

  Three hours and six cups of coffee later, I stumble on a journal. The pages are burned on the edges. The first page has two letters written in calligraphy in the center on the sheet: LD. It’s the private journal of Lowell Duke. Most of the information is scientific garble. The entries most telling are ones about Patient L., a girl he dosed with R-49. He monitored her from the age of two until he died in 2017. The tests he ran, what he put her through, is pure evil. Breaking her bones, injecting her with viruses, starvatio
n. I pray Patient L. found peace after Lowell’s death. This journal also reveals Lowell wasn’t just turning adults. He gave R-49 to entire families. The Meyers kids aren’t the only ones who grew up oblivious to what we are. There are hundreds, possibly thousands of humans carrying the gene. The preservative can only do so much. There’s no guarantee it will be received by the target audience. We need a backup plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  You can always judge the fanciness of a restaurant by how many forks are laid out around your plate. I have three in various sizes, plus two knives and a spoon. My birthday is usually shared with the rest of the family. Dad had an emergency at the garage and had to drive home last night. Everyone else is wrapped up in pre-Lunam Ceremony planning. When mom said she was taking me to brunch, I assumed we’d eat at one of the family restaurants where a surprise birthday dessert would follow our meal. Instead we’re at the posh new eatery across the street. She turned my birthday brunch into a recon mission.

  She sips her mimosa, glancing this way and that as servers carry food to other patrons. I’m surprised she doesn’t pull out her phone and snap a picture.

  “I heard they’re doubling class sizes this year to accommodate more students. Did you get everything you wanted?”

  I haven’t told her I didn’t register. I leave the apartment every day for a few hours to give the appearance I’m in school in case she’s keeping tabs on me. Sometimes I drive to the college and walk around or sit and watch students bustling to and from class. I’m grateful not to be one of them.

  “Do you know what you want?”

  I look up in a panic. That question no longer has an answer. Moving to the city and going to college became the theme of my life. It was my identity. It’s a strange feeling, getting everything you want. There’s no sense of accomplishment when its handed to you.

  “Abbi, do you know what you want to eat?” She tips her head to the waiter.