by S Bolanos
Sara's Moon
Moons of Mystery Book 1
S Bolanos
Contents
1. Sweet Freedom
2. Home at Last
3. Meat Cute
4. Storm Moon
5. Lost in Suburbia
6. A Familiar Face
7. Rumor Has It
8. Werewolves Are Real
9. Test of the Senses
10. Practice Makes Perfect
11. Reservations
12. Lone Survivor
13. The Date Debate
14. Heat of the Moment
15. A Real Run
16. The Twisted Truth
17. Kisses that Burn
18. David
19. The Fun House
20. Survival Instincts
21. Charline's Big Play
22. Running Away
23. Ghosts in the Attic
24. Let's Talk About Us
25. 20 Questions
26. Plan of Attack
27. Triggers
28. Wrong Turn
29. Running in a Pack
30. Lone Wolf
31. Friend & Foe
32. Instinct
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 Chaotic Neutral Press LLC
Cover copyright © 2019 JJ’s Design & Creations
All rights reserved.
Paperback: 978-1-956128-00-0
Ebook: 978-1-956128-01-7
To my incredible husband who believed in me when I couldn’t. You’ll always be my werewolf.
*No, for the last time, the love interest is not named after you.
1
Sweet Freedom
I opened my eyes to the macabre array of tubes and wires pulling unpleasantly at my arm. I clenched my jaw to keep the frustrated sound at bay lest it provoke another round of sedation. Yes, the wires pinched. Yes, my arm hurt something fierce. And yes, the pain in my leg bordered on mind numbing. But I was freaking done with lying around in a hospital bed.
I shifted my focus from my mottled arm to the optimistic kittens decorating the door. The calendar was likely meant to inspire cheer and hope. While it was pleasant in a forced sort of way, all I cared about was the date written in large green numbers.
Friday. Finally.
Excitement at my pending release surged through me, simultaneously waking me the rest of the way up and painfully drawing my attention to my restrictions. I scowled when I stretched my legs and only one bothered to comply, the other currently wrapped in so much gauze that it could have belonged to a stuffed animal rather than a human.
I drew in a deep breath as I pushed past the fuzzy pain and forced the miserable thing to move. Along with the breath came the tantalizing smell of baked goods so strong I could almost taste the promised sugar. It definitely wasn’t an allergy conscious hospital treat either, but the gooey decadence of something with way too many calories.
Did someone bring real cookies?
I rolled carefully onto my back, mindful of the bandaged leg. The wrappings itched like poison oak, but the nurses, doctor, and anyone else I tried to ask about removing them, insisted they were necessary despite my argument to the contrary. The smell of cookies got stronger as I shifted to my other side in order to face the window and the likely source of the delicious smell.
Please be chocolate chip.
My pupils contracted painfully at the bright glare from the open curtains and I let out a strangled squeal of pain that sounded remarkably like my neighbor Mrs. Oliver’s ornery cat. By the time I managed to blink the world back into focus, a shadow fell over me, obscuring the intense sunlight.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep. Some friend I am.”
I squinted at the figure hovering above me and was rewarded with a glowing halo of red. It took a half second longer than it should have for my brain to finish making the connection.
Charline.
She’s here. She’s, like, actually here.
I really am going home.
A quick look around revealed she’d brought a clean stack of clothes as well as a polka-dotted balloon, a rainbow bouquet of flowers, and a big teddy bear card.
How long has she been here?
She glanced down and her eyes widened. “Oh, sweetie, you’re awake!” Her natural southern accent added a twang to the words and helped soften the pitch.
“I am now,” I mumbled as I carefully maneuvered to sit up. Charline did what she could to assist me, then gave me a fresh glass of water. I sipped at it gratefully, despite the fact that it was bitterly cold.
“It’s about time.” She flounced back into her seat, causing her yellow, polka dotted dress to puff up. I envied the way the material accentuated her figure; no dress would ever be able to create those kinds of curves on me. She absently smoothed it back down and returned her intense focus to me. “I swear those nurses intentionally upped your meds so you’d always be asleep when I came by.” She flapped a dismissive hand. “Oh well. You’re alive and well, plus it gave me plenty of time to get to know that doctor of yours. Isn’t he a treat? Shame I’m already taken,” she added with a dramatic sigh.
I chuckled softly. Charline was a fantastic friend, if a bit high strung. “God it’s good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours. When I got the call, I totally freaked and came right over. Of course, I only got to see you for a moment before they whisked you off to more surgery and then you were asleep forever,” she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “Pretty sure the nurses got tired of me asking if you were in a coma. That yummy doctor though—”
“Dr. Chandler,” I supplied.
“Dr. Chandler,” she repeated with a wink which made me suspect she's known his name the whole time, “assured me that all of the sleeping was normal and good for the healing process. But man, that dog really did a number on you.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t remember anything about the supposed attack. Not when the hospital staff had asked, not when the officer had come by, and definitely not when I’d tried so hard that I’d given myself a migraine. I must’ve frowned or something, because Charline reached out a hand and placed it gently on my shoulder.
“You’re looking much better now though, almost can’t even tell.”
“Thanks. I think.” The ice clinked hollowly in the glass, while beads of condensation dripped onto the sheet, and the soft whisper of air filled the room.
I blinked and a flash of amber burned behind my eyes. A sound like tearing sheets echoed in my ears. Cold battled with the warmth saturating my arm.
I shook my head to clear the indistinct visions and inexplicable sense of fear that came with them.
“Sara, honey, are you okay?”
I nodded absently and returned the glass to her with a shaking hand.
“You sure? You spaced out a minute.”
“Yeah. It was…a memory,” I answered vaguely.
“About that night?” A touch of awe mixed with Charline’s concern.
I nodded again. “Dr. Chandler said that things would start coming back, fuzzy at first, then with more clarity.” Assuming they came back at all. The mind was funny like that. I shifted and fidgeted with the sheet, uncomfortable with Charline’s gaze. “Hey, did you bring cookies?”
Her face clouded over in confusion. “No. I made some this morning, but they’re at the house.” She plucked at her dress as if she was going to sniff it and let out a huff. “I knew I should’ve changed.”
“You cook in a dress?”
“Don’t you? Though technically it was bakin’ and that doesn’t count,” she add
ed with a flourish.
I rolled my eyes and smiled. “First off, we both know I can’t cook, and even if I could, I wouldn’t do it in a dress. Secondly, you do know it’s winter, right?”
“Of course I know it’s winter. What do you think that’s for?” She jerked her thumb at an over-the-top coat lying next to the ridiculously large card. The outerwear was a fluffy, PETA-approved, nightmare of fake fur that would hang to her knees and make it look like an actual bear was trying to absorb her body.
“Oh, I get it. You didn’t dress for the weather, you dressed for the doctor,” I teased.
“Hush you.”
Just then, the nurse came in. If I remembered correctly, her name was Katelyn. Thankfully, she was not one of the nurses I remembered having to restrain me. I hadn’t seen any of them since the night I’d been admitted.
“Excellent, you’re already awake,” she said, walking over to check my vitals. “Good to see you again, Miss Montgomery.”
“You as well.”
“And how is our patient doing this morning?” Nurse Katelyn asked.
“Not too bad. A little groggy,” I responded honestly.
She nodded and peered at the IV bag hanging by the bed, then moved on to inspect the bandages holding me hostage. “And how’s the leg?”
“Stiff, but otherwise alright.” Nurse Katelyn raised her eyebrows and gave a slight shake of her head, but otherwise didn’t comment on my assessment. I spared a glance at Charline who shrugged back at me. “Should be good to go home…” I ventured. The nurse chuckled and tucked the chart back at the end of the bed.
“In that case, I have very good news.”
“Woo!” Charline cheered and threw both hands up like she was on a roller coaster. I tossed the covers aside and made to hop out of the bed, heedless of popping my nearly healed stitches.
“Easy there. We have to go over a few things first,” Katelyn said, effectively dampening the mood. I scowled and fell back into the pillows while she rattled off a thorough list of instructions that I didn’t have a prayer of remembering. “Lastly, we’ll be sending you home with crutches to help you stay off that leg in addition to the medications and antibiotics. Any questions?”
“No?” A glance at Charline showed that she was equally overwhelmed at all of the information.
Nurse Katelyn gave a small laugh. “Not to worry, I have the instructions already printed out for you. I’ll give them to Miss Montgomery. Feel free to call the doctor’s office if you have questions or you start to feel worse. The number is with your instructions.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said as Charline took the page and slipped it into her purse.
“We’ll finish up your discharge paperwork and you’ll officially be ready to go.”
“Thank God!” I exclaimed. She smiled knowingly at my enthusiastic appreciation and set to task.
In hardly any time at all, she’d taken my blood pressure one last time, shaking her head as she did so, liberated me from the excess of wires and tubes, then left us to gather everything and make our escape.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, I turned to Charline. “Can I go home now?”
She positively beamed. “You better believe it! We’ll get you fixed up right and you can read your card when we get you settled in back at the house.” Like a force of nature, Charline immediately began the bustle of organizing my things, which mostly consisted of everything she’d brought.
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked as I gingerly swung my legs over the side of the bed.
She scowled at me, then promptly shoved a stack of folded clothes into my arms. “You can get dressed. I’ll take care of this, hon.”
I leveraged the bed in order to comply. The process was slow going and only added to my eagerness to be free of this place. The bandages already felt excessive. At least at home there wouldn’t be an army of nurses to stop me from ditching them. I pulled my brown hair into a ponytail, finished tugging the cotton sweater into place, and sat hard on the mattress exhausted.
Maybe I’m not as “good to go” as I think.
“You ready?” Charline asked from behind a wheelchair. My brows pulled together as I eyed the vehicle with no small amount of trepidation. She wiggled the chair and I winced at the screech of wheels on linoleum.
“I am not riding in that.”
“Oh, yes you are.”
“What about the crutches? The nurse said something about crutches,” I protested. Crutches at least were dignified.
“Right, almost forgot.” Charline promptly snatched a pair that had been unobtrusively leaning on the wall and stacked them with the rest of the goodies. “Come on!” she encouraged me. “We both know getting dressed completely wiped you out. If it makes you feel better, you’ll have to use the crutches when we get to your place. This’ll never make it up those death traps you call steps.”
I groaned and sagged my shoulders in defeat. She flashed a victorious smile and wheeled the chair closer so I could hobble awkwardly into it.
“This is completely unnecessary. And demoralizing. Everyone is going to stare at me.”
“Quit your bellyaching. We’re in a hospital, lots of people are in wheelchairs,” she scolded and promptly rolled us out of the room.
2
Home at Last
I stared at the front of my one-bedroom rental as Charline put the SUV in park. The bungalow style was prominent on Sycamore and though it was smaller than the three-story Victorian I’d grown up in, it was cozy—and affordable. Nothing about the faded blue paint, white columns, or shuttered windows hinted at any sort of past violence. Even the cobbled street boasted the serene quiet of established suburbia. The only thing even remotely amiss was the streetlight standing opposite my walkway that had yet to be repaired in the two years I’d lived here.
“Ready?”
I turned my gaze from the unassuming facade to meet the hopeful optimism of Charline. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Then let’s do this thing.” Knowing full well that I would deny any assistance she offered, Charline swung around to the trunk. She propped the crutches within easy reach for me and returned to unloading the plethora of goodies. “You sure you don’t want your coat?” she hollered through the vehicle.
“No, I’m good.”
She scoffed and pulled her own cream monstrosity tighter. Truthfully, I’d started sweating through my arguably thin sweater almost the minute I’d put the damn thing on.
I braced myself on the door and heaved my battered body out of the car. The nurse’s warning not to put too much weight on the leg or I’d end up back in her care rang loud in my ears. It took a few tries to get the crutches settled comfortably under my arms and I sent up a silent thanks for whoever had had the foresight to adjust the height beforehand.
Charline walked past me laden with gifts as I trudged my way slowly towards the front door. My gaze caught on an odd discoloration on the walkway. It spread out in a large circle that threatened to envelope an entire square of concrete. Distantly, I recognized the brown stain was what remained from a pool of blood left to sit for too long.
Funny, you’d think the rain would have washed it away.
I tried to take another step and one crutch caught on a loose piece of gravel. Any hope that I’d adjust perfectly to life with one leg went right out the window as I struggled to get my bearings and prevent my face from meeting rudely with the ground. I winced as the staples in my arm pulled at newly healed flesh. Balance restored, I carefully relaxed my death grip on the crutches and resumed my trek.
“You coming?”
I glanced up. Charline stood there, naked concern in her eyes, keys dangling from her hand. I wanted more than anything to be on the other side of the blue door behind her, but all the will in the world couldn’t get my feet to move.
“Sara?” The soft click of the door latch shifting pierced the inexplicable bubble of panic that had consumed me.
I shook my head to dispel the fog cl
ouding my thoughts. “I’m coming. Must be dazed from the meds.”
I continued forward with stubborn determination until my journey came to another abrupt halt at the stairs. My body froze mid stride. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Sweat coated my palms, causing my grip on the crutches to slip slightly. The sheer weight of my clothes was the only thing that held me in place in the face of the inexplicable need to run.
You’re fine, nothing is happening to you.
Despite the reassurance, my breathing remained heavy and the world was in serious danger of sliding right past its current alarming angle.
“Charline?” I squeaked out with the little air remaining in my lungs.
“Yes?” She turned to see me frozen once more. “Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry. I can be such an addle-brained ninny sometimes.” She immediately came to my aid and helped me up the steps. “I told you these rickety things are a death trap.”
I sighed with relief and leaned into her when she looped an arm under my shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. It’s a rental, it’s not like I own the place.”
Charline gave a rather unladylike snort and released me safely on the landing. “The offer stands. You could come live with me. It’d be fun. We could have girls’ nights all the time, I could teach you to cook…”
“I wouldn’t want to get between you and Ted.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed the door open. “Please. Ted and I are solid as a rock.”
