Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2

by C. D. Gorri

  My phone vibrated, shaking me from my reverie. I gently placed the picture on my desk and looked at my cell phone as it continued to buzz. It was Sebastian. Oops. I forgot to call him back. I wiped my eyes with a tissue and answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, um, Grazi. It’s me, Sebby.”

  “Yeah, hi. How are you feeling?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Things got sort of weird last night. I don’t really know what happened. I was wondering if maybe I did or said something inappropriate to you? I can’t really remember, you know, it’s all kind of foggy.”

  “Well, you just didn’t seem yourself-”

  “Yeah, I heard you helped with the sheriff when he raided the party and you got him to take me home and talk to my dad. How did you do that anyway?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t really me. The uh, the bouncer at the party insisted and then the cop knew your dad so I figured you’d be okay. Are you? Okay, that is.”

  “I don’t know, you know. It’s weird cause I don’t drink or do drugs, but I swear this is what having a hangover must feel like. I am like dying of thirst and my head is killing me.”

  “Jeez, I’m so sorry Sebby. Make sure you, uh, stay hydrated. Maybe it was something you ate?”

  “Nah, my tia thinks I was drugged, like someone put something in my water bottle at the party. I had some blood tests, but it’ll be a while before they come back.”

  “I hope you feel better. I really do and I am really, really sorry.”

  “Nah, no worries. How could it be your fault? Some jerk playing pranks is all. Thanks for talking to me though. I was worried I did something, you know, to you.”

  “It’s alright, I knew you weren’t yourself. Um, are you up for visits?”

  “No way, um, that is I think I’ll just rest, but thanks.”

  “Okay, goodbye.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up feeling uneasy. He sounded off. Could have been the after effects of the purging potion Sherry had given him, but I didn’t think so. He sounded distant. Afraid even. Maybe it was for the better.

  A boy that beautiful didn’t deserve to get mixed up in my crazy world. He should have a normal girlfriend, a pretty one. Like Julianna. If only she would stop talking about making out with Ronan. My Wolf growled at that and I agreed with her. I wanted to rip my cousin’s face off when she talked about that. Hmm, pretty violent reaction for a friend.

  I stood up and paced. Okay, I definitely wasn’t tired. I had so much information swimming around my head that I couldn’t make one single coherent thought. I knew what I needed.

  Thwack! Cara came swinging at me full force with the bamboo staff. She was like a whirlwind and had I not been defending my life at the time I would have appreciated her skill more.

  Crack! My own bamboo staff split in the middle. Better it than my face, I thought as I backed up a few steps. I mean hello! It’s not going to win me any prizes, but it’s still my face!

  I held the two shortened sticks, one in each hand and I began my attack. Left, right, high, low. Was she kidding me! This was practice, not try and get Grazi some plastic surgery before she turns sixteen. WTH!

  I swung and swung and swung. All my frustrations, all my recent revelations. Everything coming out with each swing of my sticks. Swoosh, swish, swoosh. Faster and faster I advanced until Cara landed on her butt. I put my foot on her chest and tossed her staff far off to the side.

  “Match.”

  “Good work, Grazi.” Uncle Sean applauded as I immediately backed off Cara. Just cause I got her down didn’t mean she acknowledged the fight was over. I still held my sticks and waited as she got up, picked up her staff and hung it back up on the rack.

  “Good work.” She said and walked away wiping the sweat from her brow with a small towel.

  Ronan watched from the sidelines and nodded at her as she left the sparring room. He trotted over to me and I handed him the two sticks.

  “Well, they can be sanded and used as short batons. What do you think, Sean?”

  “Why not, then? Grazi, it’s about time you start learning to fire a real weapon. I was going to take Ronan over to the outdoor range tomorrow morning, what do you say?”

  “Sure.” I had never fired a gun and admit to never really wanting to. But hey, I’m a Werewolf. My friends were being targeted by witches. I was having dreams about some poor boy held prisoner and memories of my mom that I had buried. Things change I guess. There was no place in my life for pacifism. Not when there was a battle to prepare for and people I cared about to keep safe.

  I met Uncle Sean, Dimitri, Sascha and Ronan after Mass on Sunday morning. Fr. Verrell spoke mass beautifully. It hit me as I sat in church and stared at the beautiful stained glass windows and the gold etched murals on the walls, I truly love the Catholic faith.

  Not the politics, but the religion itself, the tradition, the wonderful stories, the mysteries and miracles. It was a privilege and a miracle, I realized to have grown up with these connections. Sure, it was hard for me to reconcile what I was learning about the world, my new world, and the things I had been taught as a child.

  But still. That didn’t mean I couldn’t do it. It certainly didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate a well-spoken homily and the beautifully written scriptures that were part of today’s readings. With the approach of Thanksgiving, Fr. Verrell liked to remind us of the wonder of God’s creation and the duty of us all to serve in the care of that creation. Beautiful really. I wondered how he felt about guns.

  I rode in the back seat of the large SUV with Ronan and Uncle Sean to the gun range. It was about twenty minutes away. Go figure. We were silent most of the way. I mean, what could we talk about? Uncle Sean, Dimitri and Sascha were too close for that. So, we just sat there.

  The smells and sounds of the shooting range were like nothing I had ever experienced. It was vast with both inside and outside target stations set up. Quite a few people were using the outdoor section of the range despite the cold weather.

  A lot of men, dads I guess, were teaching their sons to shoot with rifles. Hunters. New Jersey often sanctioned deer and bear hunts when the populations got too large. I guess they were getting ready.

  “Grazi, come here.” Uncle Sean called me over. There were a variety of weapons in our outside stall. They must have been expecting us. We didn’t register or anything. The guy behind the counter simply nodded when we walked in.

  My uncle handed me one of the guns. I’m not sure which one. It was heavy and cool to the touch. He nodded at me. After a few short instructions I lifted the weapon. I took a breath, aimed and fired. The day passed far too quickly after that.

  We returned from the range late in the afternoon. It had been cold, but the heat from the weapons and the excitement of target practice kept me warm. The smell of gun powder, which Dimitri told me was made up of mostly nitrocellulose and diphenylamine and not actually cordite like I thought, was fresh in my nostrils.

  I wondered if regular humans smelled it this strongly or if it was just me. All I knew was I desperately wanted to wash the smoke smell from my hair and change my clothes.

  “So what’d ya think?” Ronan asked when we got home.

  “Well, it didn’t suck.” He smiled and I returned the gesture.

  I had thought the entire way there that I was going to be a terrible shot. I mean I never fired a weapon before in my entire life. Turns out that, like with my newfound prowess in Phys. Ed., I had great aim.

  “Werewolves excel at certain things, Grazi. Mostly athletics, but we are also naturally acclimated to things that require excellent vision or hearing. It is not unheard of that certain famous artists or musicians are in fact Werewolves. Take Ronan’s affinity for the piano and guitar. The lad can hear a tune once and play it back to you because of his excellent hearing. Much like Mozart.” Uncle Sean had said this to me after I fired my first shot with his favorite gun.

  He told me later it was a Beretta 9mm pistol. It was heavier than I
had expected. I was shocked when I had hit my target right between the eyes my very first try.

  “You’re telling me Mozart was a Werewolf?” My uncle had spread his hands as if to say Duh. After that he told me to aim for the head and heart, and I did.

  “You play guitar too?” I asked Ronan as I looked at his hands. They were long fingered and strong. His nails clean and short, but not manicured or anything. They were good hands.

  “Um, yeah. Yes I do. Actually I play the piano, guitar, drums, and a little bit of the fiddle.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing.” He shrugged when I said that. OMG. I think he’s embarrassed. Yup, his cheeks went a little pink. He really looked good like that. You know, a little humbled.

  Nonna made a big Sunday dinner as usual. The house still smelled of fresh tomato sauce and basil. I ate a heaping plate of rigatoni with ricotta and sauce and an equally large portion of fried eggplant. She also made me a small turkey breast. I craved protein a lot more than I used to.

  It was delicious as usual, but I was getting tired of eating alone. My family usually ate a late lunch/early dinner thing on Sundays. Usually at around two o’clock. Afterwards Nonna usually met up with Fr. Verrell for a game of cards with some of the other members of the Church. I had missed her. Again.

  I took a shower after eating and lingered in my room. I figured I’d get some school work finished. I typed my midterm research report for Ms. Theodore’s Lit class. Ten pages discussing the application of Shakespeare on the modern teen’s life. I really enjoyed doing the research for this paper.

  Geeky, I know, but I’ve always been that way. I used modern movies based on Shakespeare works to exemplify my argument that Shakespeare’s masterful understanding of human nature was and probably always would still be relevant. I mean how many people claim to hate Shakespeare and love the Lion King? Can you say Hamlet?

  I rechecked my bibliography, made sure the formatting was correct and hit send. Sacred Heart Prep was going green. No more printing papers. Now we emailed them to our teachers. I rubbed my eyes and shut down my lap top. It was later than I thought. I yawned and paced my room. I did not want to sleep. Not if it meant dreaming.

  I could hear my cousins talking downstairs with their parents. They sounded like they were getting along. I knew if I went downstairs that would end so I decided to stay put. I reached for my mom’s diary and snuggled on my small futon. It sat along my one free wall.

  A tiny shelf was screwed into the wall above it. I had filled it with rubber ducks of course. I loved rubber ducks. Anyway, it was like my own mini-reading nook.

  Hand crocheted cases covered four plump square pillows on the futon. They smelled like lavender and mint. Nonna made them for me. I placed one under my book, inhaled, and read.

  The wedding was blissful. I was right to do what I did. Otherwise Patrick wouldn’t have known about our beautiful little princess and he would have never come back for me. I am so happy he did.

  We are staying with my parents until his trust fund comes through. His father had argued, but the trust was from his mother’s side of the family and Rolf has no say. At least our future will be secure while I go to school and he, well he-

  Okay, Patrick has told me his secret. He thinks he is some kind of movie monster. A Werewolf for Pete’s sake! I don’t know what to think.

  Maybe he is delusional, but I trust him and I will support him in this. I told my mother, but she thought I was just being emotional. You know with the wedding and childbirth. I cried and cried but she just patted me and told me it would all be okay. I hope she is right.

  She didn’t believe him. I couldn’t blame her really. I guess their first full moon together was a bit of a shock. I read on.

  It’s been two weeks since our wedding and we’ve finally moved into our own apartment. We are close enough to mom that my original plan to go back to school is still on.

  Patrick is very supportive of me and he approves of my decision. I tried to tell him he could go back to school too, but he says he can’t. He doesn’t have the time. He keeps talking about a job, but he’s so mysterious. He doesn’t need the money. That much I know. But it’s not that kind of job. He insists he is this monster and that he needs to prevent a war. It scares me sometimes.

  My little Grazi is getting so big! And quickly too! I was scared to be a mom at first, but I guess that was natural reaction. I would do anything for my child. Just anything. She is and will always be first with me. I hope someday she will know and understand how much I love her.

  I smiled. I love you too, Mom. Del mare alla stella. My eyes eagerly found the next passage. Thank goodness for my mom’s careful script. That and my supernatural eyesight. Otherwise it might have been too much to read all these pages at once like this.

  Tonight is the full moon. Patrick says I have to stay home with my parents. He has to go out. We had a terrible fight. I know he thinks he is this thing, but I just can’t accept that. I know what I’m going to do I just hope he can forgive me.

  It is not yet dawn but I am afraid so afraid. I crept into the woods last night and followed Patrick. He was right! Everything he warned me about. What he is. All of it was the truth.

  He changed! Into a big Wolf with golden fur like his hair! I can’t believe it. He seemed to sense me, but I left as quickly as I could. Oh my Lord, please. What should I do? What about my child? If this is genetic please not my Maria.

  Patrick came home after nine in the morning. He asked me why I had followed him into the woods. He was angry. He said there are things out there, monsters that would hurt me if they could and that I needed to trust him.

  He is a Werewolf, an actual Werewolf, and he is a member of a powerful Wolf pack called the Hounds of God. His father, Rolf, the man who tried to keep me from Patrick, is the pack Alpha.

  That makes Patrick like a prince or something. He says because the baby is only half Werewolf she might not ever change. She has a chance to be normal. I pray to God that she is. What have I done? My baby an animal, a monster! I should have never had her.

  The diary fell from my numb fingertips. Had I somehow let my mom down by turning into the very thing she feared? I ran to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. She would probably hate me now, knowing what I am. I looked at my reflection and saw the Wolf in my eyes.

  It was unfair. All so unfair. My breathing was heavy and the image before me blurred. I was such a freak. My own mother would hate me for what I have become. I slammed my fist into the mirror and screamed.

  “Why me?” I pounded the glass until blood flowed from my hands. I don’t know how much time passed. Maybe seconds.

  I heard Nonna yell my name and Uncle Vito held her back and said something about calling an ambulance. Before he had a chance Uncle Sean was there and he had them leave the room. Ronan came shortly after.

  “Stay back, Ronan.”

  “No, I’ll not watch her bleed for naught.” He took his outer t-shirt off. He was always too hot for a coat or sweatshirt indoors so sometimes he wore two t-shirts doubled up.

  He must have run from next door. He was barefoot. He wrapped the shirt around my hand and picked me up. I was no longer crying. I was in some sort of shock I guess.

  “It’s alright, Maria. It’ll be alright.”

  “She hated this. What I am! She’d hate me.” I spoke to Ronan only, but I knew Uncle Sean could hear me.

  He picked up the diary and read the passage where my mother renounced me for an abomination. I sobbed and Ronan held me in his arms. He was solid and strong, dependable. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn his support, but I was grateful for it.

  “Ronan, take her to the house. I’ll stay and clean up in here.”

  “Right.” Ronan walked to the window with me still in his arms and leapt down.

  “I can walk.” He gripped me tighter. I put my head down on his shoulder. Too exhausted to argue over it. If he wanted to carry me then fine.

  No one seemed to be in the Kelly house. H
e took me straight to his room. This one was better than the one at the Rectory. It was larger for one thing and it was painted a nice pale blue. His bed was unmade. Big surprise there. A wicker hamper sat by the door. It was overflowing with laundry that needed to be done. For all that it was neat.

  His desk was tidy and the television was turned off. At the center of it all was a weird looking piano and an acoustic guitar on a metal stand. It was more like a cross between a half piano and a keyboard. He had a headset, microphone, speakers, and subwoofer each in its place. There was blank sheet music and what looked like a USB port.

  He elbowed his private bathroom door open and sat me down. He ran the faucet and gently unwrapped my arm. The water stung. I wiggled a little, but he managed to once again clean my wound. He bandaged it with quick, confident precision.

  “Thanks.” I said. He grunted and put away the first aid kit.

  “Seems like you’re always patching me up.”

  “Yeah, well you’d do the same. Here’s your phone. It fell out of your pocket when I put you down.”

  “Thanks.” He thrust the phone out to me and I could see I had another text from Sebby. I didn’t feel like answering him though.

  I stood up and managed to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Great, I looked like crap. My nose was red and my eyes were puffy from crying. I had a piece of glass in my hair. Our hands collided as we both went to take it out. I dropped mine and let him do it.

  “Sit back down, I’ll, uh, brush your hair to make sure there’s no more glass.”

  “Alright.” I sat down and he got out a fine tooth comb. I winced this was going to hurt.

  But it didn’t. Ronan was gentle and thorough. He parted my hair and worked the comb through the long wavy locks. I was glad then that I had never cut it.

  “It’s soft.”

  “Thanks.” Our voices were barely whispers. The house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, but to me it sounded like we were shouting. He moved in front of me and nudged my leg over so he could stand close and comb through the long tresses in the front. He pulled out piece after tiny piece of glass and dropped them in the waste basket.