Moon Struck

by Ben Alderson

  Their dark hoods are raised above their faces, the strange emblem flashing across their breast pockets in a clear threat. This is the same mark Chad claims covered his parents’ dead bodies.

  “Murderers!” Chad screams, followed by Savi’s powerful roar that shakes the very trees in the forest. She too must see the symbol. Chad’s fangs lengthen, and Savi snarls, both capturing the coven’s attention.

  “George.” Mother ignores Chad and Savi, her voice gentle as she calls for me. “Come, my son. Join us.”

  Must we? I ask Abraxon.

  I do not like her, it says. She speaks to you as you are nothing, but we are powerful. We are more than her and this pathetic coven.

  Now that the demon is whole, I can hear its voice as clear as if it stood beside me. It is deep yet soft, dark and light, a multitude of pitches and tones that blend together to make one voice.

  The demon and I share the same thought. I have the book, which will provide me with answers to my questions, but even though the demon is reluctant to go with Mother, part of me longs to take her hand.

  I find my legs moving without permission. Chad hisses my name, but I am moving for Mother. Only when I get two steps before her do I stop. She speaks three words, and my world shatters.

  “Kill the hybrid.”

  The command is aimed for the coven of witches, not to me. In the breath that follows her command, I sense the elements explode.

  I spin on my feet, facing Savi, who cowers briefly, tail hooked beneath her legs as she peers at the coven and waits for their magic.

  Wind increases, roaring like a caged animal. Water thickens in the air, pulling from the trees and puddles that cover the forest bed. The very ground shakes, trees dancing and leaves floating from the ground, spinning into a vortex of sharp edges. But it’s the flames that send fear shooting through every limb of my body.

  Fire springs to life at the feet of those who command it. In lines of racing heat, they cut across the ground toward Savi with such furious speed that I fear she won’t have a chance to move. Destroying the dry bed of the forest, which only fuels the flames, the fire is nearly upon her.

  With a powerful pounce, the alpha is airborne, slamming into Savi’s side until she is thrown out of the way of the flames. In the place she stood moments before, the lines of fire reach each other and explode into a pillar of magic.

  What shall we do, George? Watch or end this? Abraxon asks.

  End this, I say.

  I move forward, hands extended beside me. The elements conjured do not belong to me, but I know I can use them as my own—even fire. Finally, I sense fire call to me, begging me to use its strength, but before I can, Mother rips her iron grip around my shoulders and pulls me back. She whispers something into my ear, and my body stiffens.

  “Do not be a fool, boy. The hybrid will die tonight.”

  Her words have turned my body to stone, so I can do nothing but watch. In seconds the coven’s circle is broken as the witches are forced into battle. Chad and the wolves are surrounding Savi, trying to protect her. Teeth snap out at witches, who rush the group. Some pack members spring and jump atop witches, devouring flesh with their teeth and claws.

  Chad moves with speed, his body no more than a blur. Witches fall around him, clutching their throats and chests as he rips his own nails and teeth into them.

  Mother pushes me to the floor and throws both arms wide. Wind knocks into the wolves and Chad, sending them flying on all sides. Yelps of the wolves as they smash into trees echo loudly in my mind.

  “Silly beast,” Mother screams as she steps face to face with Savi. “As powerful as you are, I cannot have you running around this town. You must die, just as you should have before my fool of a son brought you back.”

  Mother keeps one hand out toward Savi, pulsing air atop her to keep her pinned to the ground. She struggles under the weight of the element. Mother pulls an antler-handled athame from her cloak. She strengthens her hold on Savi with each step she takes.

  “You’re suffocating her!” I screech.

  Like the melting of a candle, Savi’s wolf form slips from her, leaving behind her naked vampire form, weak from magical assault. Curled in on herself, Savi whimpers on the floor as she gasps for air, skin pale beneath the watching moon. Wolves howl as they anticipate what is to follow. Even Chad’s scream rips through the night, but he too falls to his knees as witches steal his breath.

  I can help.

  Yes! I will Abraxon to do something, anything. Please, save her.

  I shiver and explode with dark energy. A blanket of darkness fills the small clearing, just as it did back home. The scene before me mirrors the pages in my father’s grimoire. Yellow eyes of the demon fill the blanket of darkness.

  Mother screams.

  A wolf growls in pure, heated anger.

  I cannot see what is happening, not as Abraxon devours light. Now freed from my frozen body, the demon moans with pleasure.

  Suddenly, I can move, and I know Mother’s spell upon me has broken.

  Abraxon recoils, seeping back into my body through my mouth until we can see once again.

  Witches run, so the werewolves are no longer held down by their power. Chad stands, hands grasping his throat as he takes hulking breaths. Savi shivers on the ground, but it’s what is next to her that pulls a piercing cry from my throat.

  The alpha, muzzle stained red, stands above Mother. Her neck is snapped, bone protruding from her aged skin. Her eyes are open, and they’re looking right through me. A large pool of blood spills beneath her. It seeps from the puncture marks that scatter across her neck.

  Dead.

  She is dead.

  Killed by the alpha.

  The alpha.

  Just as the wolves act on instinct, so do I. I throw myself up from the floor, anger and hate focused on the alpha, who licks Mother’s blood from his lips. Pure power explodes from my hands. Abraxon does not show itself to me, for I do not need the demon’s power to kill the alpha—payment for what he has done.

  Fire.

  I command the flames, sending a tidal wave of heat toward the wolf. It races across the forest for the beast. Seconds is all it takes.

  But my fire never reaches the alpha.

  Savi moves fast, standing before him in the blink of an eye. I try to pull back, but it’s too late. The fire devours her. Full of horror, I suck in a panicked breath.

  My heart seems to stop as I watch the fire lick up Savi’s naked body, covering it like a grand dress of orange and red, but when she should cry out in pain, she is silent.

  Only when the flames die do I notice the silver shimmer around her body. It keeps the fire inches from her skin.

  Magic.

  My magical essence surrounds her, protecting her.

  A terrible explosion of grief makes me lose control of my legs. On all fours, I cry into the ground, face pressed to the dirt. I cannot focus on any one thing as the pain of Mother’s death overwhelms me.

  My mother has been murdered, killed by the alpha who chose to protect Savi. I aided this monster, allowing Abraxon to coat the world in black and give the alpha time to move for Mother.

  She is dead, and the blood is on my hands just as much as it’s on his.

  Mother is dead, Father is dead, and I’m all alone—left with nothing but the presence of a demon within my blood.

  Savi

  I thought I was having a horrible night before I was standing nude in front of my brother, best friend, psychotic witches, and pack of wolves. Just when I thought my evening couldn’t possibly get any worse, I was surrounded by fire but enveloped in a bright, shimmering light. Thankfully, I didn’t feel the heat of the flame or the lick of pain that should have followed.

  George once explained elemental magic to me when we were kids. He told me never to tell a soul that he could control all four. All witches could conjure the elements, but most could control only one. He said fire was the strongest yet most vulnerable. It was a witch’s best
defense against other supernaturals, but that power came at a cost. Unlike air, earth and water, fire has no effect on other witches. It’s harmless, he once told me. But for some reason, even when he conjured the others, he never once invoked fire.

  At least, not until today. Not until Zane, the alpha wolf, killed his mother. Not until he tried to avenge her death, and I stopped him. Not until he cast the raging flame directly at me.

  I’m standing nude in the darkness of night, knowing every single supernatural creature around me has senses heightened enough to see my vulnerability, but I don’t care.

  I look down and see splashes of crimson coat my bare chest. My tears fall and splatter against my subtle curves like the bottom of a riverbed. And I don’t stop them. Instead, I watch as my best friend breaks.

  After the death of my parents, I indulged the darkest parts of me. I took my very first human life, and I continued to kill even when Chad begged me to stop. What he didn’t understand was that I couldn’t stop. I needed to kill, because it was the only way I felt something.

  I always believed the worst part of losing loved ones was selfishness. I wanted them back because I didn’t want to feel the pain of loss anymore. Even when death was merciful, by nature, I was still selfish.

  But the selfishness of death isn’t the worse part.

  The worst part of death is the broken, empty, soulless thing we become when we lose someone who was the best part of us.

  My parents made me better—a better daughter, sister, friend, and, yes, vampire. When they were alive, I wanted to be better, stronger, smarter. The moment they died—in that very second I discovered them—I succumbed to the shell of the girl I once was.

  And now, as I watch George, I see him breaking. He’s slouched on the ground, having fallen to his knees. Blood coats the charred grass at his feet. His skin is paler than usual, even though I can hear the steady beats of his heart eagerly pumping fresh supplies of blood to limbs. His upper lip is coated in a slick layer of sweat, and his bottom lip trembles. His pupils are dilated, even though the grass surrounding us still burns brightly. His hands are shaking, so he wraps them around himself. He teeters back and forth, and I know he is already on the edge.

  All of this takes only seconds, but I am frozen in time. I can’t let him break, but I cannot move. I cannot speak. And I certainly cannot beg for forgiveness, because I have stolen the one thing I would have offered my eternal soul to have.

  The ability to avenge the death of parents.

  A fowl shriek escapes him. The high-pitched screech is riddled with pain and it sinks directly into my heart, like dagger to flesh.

  Before him, his mother stares. Her eyes are glossy, her vision ice cold. She does not move, but even in silence, when her soul has left her mortal coil, she holds a presence over George, who cries for her.

  We spoke of his mother so few times I don’t even know her name. All I really knew about her was that George hated going home at night, and he hated her constant pressure to join a coven, to use his magic and become more powerful.

  But in death, we forget the short comings of those we love, and that is what fuels our desire to shut off our emotions, to let go, to break.

  The retreating footsteps of the other witches fall silent to my ears as I take another step toward George. I’m cautious. I don’t want to upset him, but also, so much has happened…

  I discovered the meaning behind his spell. I am an abomination—two supernaturals at once.

  I learned to trust my inner strength to defeat the darkness and pain. It sickens me to know that I must test this under these conditions.

  George’s magic didn’t harm me. Though I still don’t understand how or why, I fear those answers will only be given with more prices to pay.

  Before I’m able to reach George, I feel Chad rush to my side. He pulls off his coat and drapes it over my shoulders. I smile, sliding my arms into the sleeves before fastening the buttons. Somehow, the coat feels… wrong. Something about standing nude beneath the moonlight felt… right. I can only assume this is a side effect of the bite. The wolf in me is eager to run wild and free. She doesn’t like to be caged or wrapped up in someone else’s modesty.

  “George,” I whisper as I sink to my knees. I sit on my legs and reach for him. I run my fingertips up and down the length of his arm, but he never moves. It’s as if he doesn’t even register my presence. And I fear I may already be losing him. “Please, George. Say something.”

  “Baby?” Chad whispers. He too is crouched beside George. He sits and pulls George toward him. Without much resistance, Chad is able to pull George onto his lap. I watch as my brother soothes my best friend as he cries, screams, and moans in fits of anger, fear, and pain. His voice is often muffled by Chad’s t-shirt, but I needn’t heightened senses to understand him.

  George blames himself for his mother’s death, and he’s angry with the alpha. I swallow hard and glance back. The wolves have retreated to the woods, but I still feel them. I feel their eyes on me, but this time, it feels different. They watch me not as prey or as another predator, but as one of their own. They watch me out of protection, and I worry this isn’t the only behavior change I’ll have to get used to.

  I scan the tree line until my gaze lands on a familiar set of golden irises. Somehow, I recognize him above all others. There’s something in his piercing gaze that sends shockwaves shuddering through my frame. I could chalk up the shiver to being nearly naked, but I know it’s a lie. There’s something between us. I jumped to protect him without giving second thought to my own safety. I didn’t know the fire wouldn’t harm me, but more importantly, I would still give my life to protect him. And that is a feeling I am not okay with.

  Though I am not in wolf form, I hear him in my mind. The alpha—my alpha—tells me to be safe. He calls me his weird pet name before retreating into the darkness. Like the witches, the wolves retreat until Chad, George, and I are once again alone on the forbidden lands of werewolf territory. Though, I guess they are no longer forbidden to me. I shake at the thought.

  Chad stands, scooping George in his arms. Before he can take even a single step toward Hillcrest, George is sitting upright, screaming and pounding his fists against Chad’s chest.

  “We can’t leave her!”

  I stare at his mother, and her lifeless eyes stare back at me. Even in death, her eyes hate me, calling me the names her lips cannot. Voiceless, she still speaks with such hate. Knowing she has something to do with my parents’ death, I would love nothing more than to leave her here to rot. Silently, I wish her to spend an eternity being eaten by the many creatures who call these woods home. But I know I cannot do that to George. He needs me right now, and he needs me to be understanding. In time, Chad and I will learn the truth. We just need to accept that that won’t be tonight.

  “Savi.” Chad’s soft voice breaks the staring contest I was having with George’s dead mother.

  “I can bury her,” I say.

  “Would you?” George asks. His voice, too, is soft.

  I smile as I unbutton Chad’s coat and let it fall to the ground in a heap. Chad jerks his head away, clearing his throat.

  “Modesty, Savi. Honestly,” Chad says.

  He doesn’t understand why I am unashamed, and what he doesn’t realize is that he doesn’t understand because he isn’t a wolf. The thought aches my heart. When I was just a vampire, I always had him. Chad always understood, always backed up my reckless nature. He defended my careless actions when my parents thought I went too far. But now, I’m alone. No other creature like me exists, so no one will ever truly understand my ways, my feelings, my actions. It’s a cross to bear, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to face it alone.

  I morph. Dropping to my knees, my skin tears, turning to fur. My hands extend to paws. My bones snap, transforming into the powerful frame of a wolf. Mere seconds pass between the moment I am vampire to the moment I become beast. It’s so quick, I wonder if onlookers would miss my transition in th
e blink of an eye.

  I find a spot beside the brick cottage where George and I used to spend hours playing. It is shaded by an overgrown oak tree, and I thought that to be fitting. After all, George and I would escape all too often to these woods, meeting at Old Oak.

  I dig. I fling dirt behind me until I’ve gone deep enough to bury a body. When I turn to face the others, I see the mound of earth piled high. I pull her toward the hole, dropping her hardening frame into the ground, letting the earth have its way with her betrayal to the many gifts it gave her at birth. I cover her, and when I’m done, I return to vampire form and quickly redress.

  During the slow walk back to Hillcrest, I pick at the soil that’s embedded beneath my nails, a constant reminder that buried deep beneath the forbidden grounds of Wolfsbane Forest is the very person who knows what happened to my parents the night they died. I worry Chad and I may never learn the truth, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.

  George

  The house is silent, for the dead cannot make sounds.

  Ever since Savi and Chad reluctantly left me at my front porch, I can’t help but notice how incredibly still everything is inside.

  Although they were persistent, I didn’t want my friends to follow me in. Just the thought of being around anyone turns my stomach. They tried to fight my decision, but in the end, they understood.

  “What about the front door?” Chad asked, looking down at the shattered bits that remained after Savi kicked it off its hinges.

  “I’ll enchant it.” One simple mumble of words and the ripple of an illusion stood where the door used to be. Anyone passing by wouldn’t see the truth.

  Grief is heavy, but with the added weight of this insidious silence, it’s almost unbearable. Now, I stand in the foyer, looking at the destruction left behind. The door is discarded across the floor in pieces. The wallpaper is scratched and ripped. Dark smudges mark the wood floors.

  I take careful steps and look into the living room. It looks as if a storm passed through and devoured every morsel of normality. I don’t have enough energy to waste with worrying about cleaning it up—at least, not now.