Blood Moon's Fury: A Young Adult Fantasy Thriller (Curse of the Blood Moon Book 1)

by Leah Kingsley

  Zack’s friend blinked in surprise. “Zack went to your place? He told me he had to scoop Chris from a friend’s.”

  “Yes.” Amy threw up her hands. “Chris is friends with my sister, Susan.”

  “Oh.” Jessie face-palmed, giggling. “Now it makes sense.”

  “And we’re not dating, I swear!”

  “Okay, but he’s been talking about you a lot lately. It’s Amy this and Amy that. We’re loving teasing him about it because he makes fun of us for the same behavior.”

  Amy’s heart soared. Zack had ditched his annoying-as-hell girlfriend and might have a thing for her? She was dying to quiz Jessie but didn’t want Zack’s best friend passing her interest along.

  The bell rang. “Want to head to class with me, Amy?” Zack’s friend asked with an easy smile.

  Sitting with him would make her less of a target and distract her from her financial woes. “Sure.” The word popped from her mouth before she had a chance to consider Jessie. What if this cheerleader freaked like Chelsea had?

  “See you in chemistry!” Jessie flashed a grin over her shoulder. Amy smiled. This girl had a heart of gold.

  She waved goodbye and fell into step with Zack’s friend. “You do realize I don’t even know your name.”

  “Really? I never told you?” The corners of his eyes crinkled.

  “Nope.” She smirked. “I know you only as Locker Buddy.”

  “It’s Ken,” he said and chuckled. “No wonder you acted weird whenever I said hello.”

  They chatted all the way to homeroom and sat together by the window. Amy was surprised to find herself enjoying Ken’s company. He was easygoing and hilarious.

  “Wonder where Zack is,” Ken whispered. “He’s usually here by now.”

  The mention of Zack Donnellson was a bucket of freezing water thrown onto the tentative embers of her mildly good mood. What if he had tried to confront Assassin’s Honor on his own? Her gut clenched at the thought. Surely he wasn’t that stupid. Or was he?

  Nineteen

  ZACK WOKE EARLY Friday morning with a gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. Assassin’s Honor had it out for Amy, and they were not going to leave her alone until and unless the score had been settled. Worry niggled at the back of his mind until sleep became impossible. He dressed quickly and went to wake his brother.

  Chris was grumpy at being dragged out of bed before his alarm. Zack wound up telling him about ending it with Chelsea and that made him so happy, he agreed to leave early.

  They drove to Amy’s and found her house silent, the blinds shut and the lights off. “You sure you have the time right?” Zack anxiously checked his watch.

  Chris nodded. “Sue said they catch the seven fifty bus.”

  Amy’s front door opened, and a middle-aged woman stumbled out onto the porch. She looked like a walking skeleton, pale and scarily thin with wispy salt-and-pepper hair and tired cloud gray eyes. Her sweatpants were old and faded with an obvious rip near the knee, and a faint brown stain ran the length of her baggy T-shirt. A light breeze carried cigarette smoke toward Zack’s car as the woman swigged straight from a wine bottle.

  Zack frowned. “Who is that?”

  “Susan’s mom.” Chris goggled at her.

  Zack poked him in the shoulder. “Quit staring or she’ll notice us.”

  “Too late. She’s already coming over.”

  Zack swore and jammed his keys into the ignition. The last thing he wanted was a parental chat.

  The lady staggered to his car and tapped on the driver’s side window.

  “We’re in trouble now.” Chris sank lower in his seat.

  “You’re acting like we’re being busted by the cops.” Zack snickered.

  “I’d rather the cops.”

  Zack rolled his eyes and lowered his window. Mrs. Evans removed a cigarette from between her colorless lips. “Are you boys lost?”

  He raised his eyebrows. Why was Amy’s mother talking to them as if they were five? He shifted in his seat. “Uh, no, we’re waiting for someone.”

  Mrs. Evans squinted through the window. “Hey, I know you from somewhere.”

  Chris squirmed in his seat and nodded. “I’m Susan’s friend.”

  “That’s right.” She tapped her fingers against her wine bottle. “Kyle, is it?”

  “Chris,” he corrected, his cheeks turning red.

  “Of course, dear. And who are you?” She pointed a finger at Zack, her pale hand shaking with the effort.

  “Older brother.” He suppressed a stab of pity. What had she been through to end up like this, alone and frail and drinking at 8 A.M.?

  Mrs. Evans bobbed her head to a song no one else could hear. “Are you waiting for Susan? She and Amy already left.”

  “They did? Where did they go?”

  “School, I think.” Mrs. Evans tottered back to her porch.

  “Okay, we’ll be on our way then.” Zack watched to make sure she reached her door without falling. He started his car and reversed out of Amy’s driveway. What had he gotten himself into with this girl? Every time he talked to her or anyone who knew her, he uncovered more and more facets of her complicated life. And every time he tried to help her, she either wound up hating him or pulled a disappearing act.

  A disturbing thought crept into his mind. What if Assassin’s Honor had visited Amy’s house last night, beat her senseless, and left her unconscious on the bathroom floor? Would her alcoholic mother even notice? He took a deep breath and tried to ignore his overactive imagination. Amy had to be at school. In homeroom. With Assassin’s Honor. He pressed down on the gas.

  “Phew.” Chris relaxed after Amy’s street was a good two minutes behind them.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Zack drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and cursed the morning traffic. He was never going to make it to class on time.

  “No clue. Susan doesn’t talk about her much. She says her mom’s sick a lot.”

  Zack made a derisive noise in his throat. “Try hung over a lot. You think she’s mental? Explains Amy and Sue.”

  Chris scowled. “That’s not funny.”

  “Chill out, bro.”

  Chris sat in stony silence for the rest of the ride. Zack blasted the radio in an effort to ignore his sour looks. When had he stopped seeing the world the way his little brother did? He struggled to recall the last time he had believed the best of someone. Had high school ruined the illusion? Was it a natural part of growing up, or was he, Zack, becoming brainwashed and bitter?

  The school was quiet, the halls deserted. He peeked around the door to Mr. Fields’s classroom and checked the back row for Amy. Icicles of dread slid down his spine. She wasn’t there. Alex was lounging in her seat. His stomach lurched, and his heart pounded at twice its normal speed. He scanned the rest of the room and found her sitting with Ken. A wave of relief threatened to sweep him away. Amy had harnessed him to an endless emotional roller coaster. He snuck into class and searched for an empty seat.

  “Mr. Donnellson.” Mr. Fields barked his name like the crack of a whip. “I don’t see a hall pass. That’ll be detention, yet again.”

  “But sir.” Zack raised his hands in protest.

  Mr. Fields clenched his jaw, making his square, sallow face resemble a cube with a nose. “No buts. Sit down and shut up.”

  Zack hesitated. He had to drive Amy home or she’d be a walking target.

  Mr. Fields scowled at him over the top of his horn-rimmed spectacles. “Mr. Donnellson, do you wish to teach this class?”

  “No sir.”

  “Will you take a seat and allow me to teach this class?”

  Three straight years of loathing bubbled over and spilled into his insolent tone. “There’s nowhere to sit.”

  His teacher’s eyes narrowed into furious hazel slits. “Enough with the disrespect. Detention on Monday. And there’s a seat free next to Mr. Johnson.”

  Zack gritted his teeth. He had to sit with Assassin’s Honor?
He stomped to the seat and scowled at the clock. It was only eight forty-five, and he already hated his life.

  He glanced at Amy and caught her looking at him. She averted her gaze but her eyes darted back to him a few seconds later. He winked at her. She grimaced. Zack smiled. This girl was adorable, but the way she avoided people made him nervous. If Assassin’s Honor caught her alone, they could easily make good on their threats. He was grateful to Ken for sitting with her.

  He joined them after class. Amy was cramming books into her bag with frantic, manic urgency, while Ken smiled goofily at all the girls as they passed. The pair made seriously unlikely friends.

  Ken greeted him with a cheerful slap on the back. “Hey man. How’s it hanging?”

  “Super,” he said and sighed, surveying Amy with concern. There were dark circles under her eyes, her silky hair was in a hopeless tangle, and her clothes were wrinkled as if she had slept in them. Her soft gray eyes had an eerie, haunted look. “You okay?” he asked with tentative concern. He wanted to touch her arm but doubted she’d welcome the comforting gesture.

  “Sure.” She shrugged placidly. “It’s another wonderful morning at THS.” Chelsea pushed past them on her way out the door. Amy glanced between her and Zack. “So, I’m off.” She made a hasty escape.

  Ash broke away from his friends and followed her. Zack cursed under his breath. How was he going to keep her away from them? He and Amy had entirely different schedules.

  “Wonder what’s up with her?” Ken mused as he and Zack ambled down the hall together. “She said she was up late studying. Usually she ignores me. Except this morning …”

  A strange buzzing filled Zack’s ears. Nathan and his friends knew he had detention after school. His head spun with the implications of what that meant. They were going to get their revenge that afternoon, while he, Zack, was conveniently out of the way.

  Twenty

  “CHARLES!” SOMEONE BELLOWED from halfway down the hall. “Wait up!”

  Charles jumped and lost his grip on his ever-present stack of books. A flurry of loose papers fluttered to the floor around him as he scrambled to retrieve his stuff.

  Zack emerged, smirking, from a throng of snickering students. “What’d I tell you? Every time.”

  “Shut up.” Charles clenched his jaw.

  Zack handed him a few papers. “I’ve got detention this afternoon.”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “You’re in my homeroom too?”

  Charles shut his eyes, praying for patience. “So what if you have detention?”

  “So.” Zack shifted from foot to foot. “Something might happen.”

  “Something might happen to Amy, you mean.”

  “Exactly.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “Have you met Assassin’s Honor? What do you expect me to do about them?”

  Zack clenched his fists. “So you’re going to sit by and do nothing? After she stood up for you, you won’t even think twice about doing the same for her? You’re pathetic.” He thrust the last few books into Charles’s chest and stormed away. “No wonder everyone thinks you’re a loser. It’s ‘cause you are!”

  Charles shuffled through the rest of his classes under a heavy blanket of guilt. Alex had Amy trapped in a checkmate before the game even began, and there was nothing Charles could do to save her. If he raised the alarm, Assassin’s Honor would take it out on Amy. If he stood with her, they’d beat him up as well. If he did nothing, they would hurt her, and he would hate himself as much as Zack hated him.

  Charles stopped by his locker to retrieve his paperback copy of Hamlet, the play he had to read for English. He shifted his textbooks around, making a jumbled mess of his fastidiously organized collection. A low voice behind him made him freeze.

  “Cut class with me.”

  Charles snatched his math textbook, raised it like a club, and pivoted on his heel. Peter Jenkins was leaning against the locker next to his. He had ditched his leather jacket, and his thick arms were at his sides. The gangster was doing his best to appear nonthreatening, but Peter looked way too much like a nightclub bouncer to pull it off. Girls described him as tall, dark, and handsome. He more closely fit tall, dark, and shy. Most people labeled the guy brooding because he hardly ever smiled. Charles knew better. Peter never smiled because he was clinically depressed.

  “That’s your weapon of choice?” Peter eyed the textbook with a smirk.

  “What do you want?” Charles scanned the hall for the rest of Assassin’s Honor.

  Peter held up his hands. “Relax. I’m alone, but we’re short on time. Cut class with me, and I’ll explain once we’re out of here.”

  “You seriously think I’m that stupid?” He had thought these guys at least respected his intellect. Why else would they force him to do their homework?

  “The others are up to something, but they won’t tell me what.”

  “Feeling left out?”

  Peter scowled. “Nathan and Alex ice me out when their plans get violent. I think it’s about that girl.”

  “Her name’s Amy.” He resumed his search for the elusive novel.

  “Whatever. I want to help you and Zack help her.”

  Charles froze. Had Peter witnessed his confrontation with Zack? How else would he know Zack meant to protect Amy? “Go away.”

  “You don’t understand. Alex—” Peter darted his eyes around the now deserted hall. He lowered his voice. “I’ve seen him like this before. It’s all a game, and he’s a sore loser.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. I trusted you once before, and look where that got me. We’re not doing this again.” Charles was pleased to see a telltale flash of guilt in Peter’s sea green eyes. He slammed his locker door and stormed down the hall. Peter Jenkins genuinely wanting to help someone? Yeah right.

  Peter reached to grasp his forearm, thought better of it, and dropped his hand. “You know I’m sorry about what happened between us, but this is important.” Guilt soaked his tone. “You know I’d never ask if I had anyone else.” Charles sighed. He was everyone’s last resort. Peter kept pace with him as he strode down the hall.

  “Quit following me!”

  “If you don’t listen, you’ll regret it.”

  Charles stiffened. “That a threat?”

  “No man, it’s the truth.”

  Jessie emerged from a classroom on their right. She waved her hall pass and smiled at him. A million butterflies swooped in his gut. “Why are you guys lurking out here? Don’t you have class?”

  Charles opened his mouth to explain, met her gorgeous emerald green eyes, and was immediately paralyzed. The only comments that sprang to mind were nonsensical compliments of her hair, her outfit, and her smile. Shakespeare himself would be proud.

  “Who died and made you hall monitor?” Peter said rudely.

  Jessie narrowed her eyes and turned her attention to Peter. “Shall I report you?” She smirked and waved her hall pass again. Charles breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t recited his soliloquy out loud.

  “I was just leaving.” Peter threw Charles a frustrated scowl and trudged toward the exit.

  “Thanks.” Charles ducked his head. He used to wonder if Jessie knew he existed. Now she would remember him as the sketchy nerd who hung out in deserted halls with Peter Jenkins.

  “No problem. I seriously have to run though, or I’m going to pee my pants.” She flashed him a grin and dashed down the hall. He gazed after her in openmouthed awe. She was gorgeous, smart, and handled enormous gangsters as effortlessly as directing a cheer squad.

  Daydreaming about Jessie calmed him down and helped him think. He had a solution by the end of the period. He would follow Amy, but from a safe distance. Assassin’s Honor never had to know, and he’d be able to get her help when she needed it.

  The last bell rang in his ears like the start of a boxing match. He hurried to the parking lot to stake out the exit. Droves of students streamed past him, segregated by grad
e, clique, and status. They babbled mindlessly about their rivals, friends, and weekend plans. Charles watched them wistfully, an island in a sea of peers who were never going to accept him.

  Ash and his girlfriend exited the school holding hands. They parted after a brief but heated argument, Lara heading for the bus and Ash crossing the street toward Parsons Elementary.

  Ten agonizing minutes dragged by without any sign of Amy. He checked his watch for the millionth time, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach clenching with nerves. Had he missed his chance at playing the hero? Had Assassin’s Honor trapped her inside? His palms grew slick with sweat.

  A slim, dark-haired figure slipped out a side exit. Amy marched across the parking lot like a soldier ready for war. Charles wished he had her confidence. But ready or not, it was showtime.

  Twenty-one

  AMY HAD BECOME a sensation overnight. Half the school hated her, the other half worshiped her, and four of her classmates wanted to kill her. Drama aside, she was having an awesome day. Jessie had asked her to eat lunch with her and her friends, and Ken had invited her to watch the lunar eclipse with them that night. She declined both offers, claiming she needed to work on an overdue paper. She had to limit her time with Zack until everyone quit gossiping about his breakup with Chelsea.

  Lunch in the library made a pleasant change from sitting outside in the cold. She spent a relaxing half hour flicking through magazines and was positively cheerful throughout the afternoon.

  Amy swept out of her last class, strutted confidently through the halls, and slipped out a side exit in the middle of a gaggle of loudly gossiping freshmen. She kept one hand in her pocket with her fingers clamped around her pepper spray and the other in her purse with a firm grip on her pistol. She crossed the street without even having to press the signal and arrived at Parsons Elementary in under two minutes. Unease fluttered in her stomach, even as the tension left her shoulders. Why had they let their opportunity slide?