Riley's Curse, A Moon's Glow Prequel

by Christina Smith

  Chapter Eight

  Sacrifice

  In my father’s crowded office, I lit a lantern and started searching for what I needed. I tore papers out of drawers, books off of shelves. Finally, in the back corner of my father’s desk, I found the bullets I had been looking for. In another desk drawer I found the pistol my father had recently purchased after the general store was robbed. It was wrapped in newsprint.

  I tore the paper away, throwing it to the floor, and rushed outside.

  I had almost made it to my destination, under the cover of the trees, when I heard my father’s voice. “Nathaniel!”

  I spun around with the pistol in my right hand, pointed to the ground. “I’m sorry, Father, but I have to protect our family.”

  My father’s eyes widened with fear. “Son, what are you doing with my pistol? Put it down now. I mean it.” He was holding his hands up as though I was a jittery colt.

  Tears poured down my face. “I’m sorry, Father, but I have to. That thing that killed Lucy was the woman at the store. She bit me that night, and now I am like her, a werewolf. A monster!” I screamed.

  He started to come closer.

  “No, stay where you are. I don’t want to hurt you.” He stopped about ten feet from me. I could smell fear coming from him. “Tonight Charlotte and I became wolves and I watched her kill Eva’s brother. I tried to stop her but she was stronger than me. If I hadn't gotten her away from my other friends, she would have killed them too. Father, I am like her. I have to protect you.” I lifted the pistol and pointed it at my temple, the cold metal was a shock to my over-heated skin.

  “Nooo! Nathaniel, please don’t do this. You are not a monster. I believe what you say. I’ve noticed you changing, but if anyone can fight it, it’s you.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I knew better. I lowered the pistol and stared down at it, the moon shone onto the metal creating a glow. It was a sign, and I knew I was doing the right thing. “Tonight when she killed him, the only reason I didn’t join her was because I knew who he was. If it was a stranger, the wolf inside me would have taken over.” I was whispering, afraid of my own words.

  He was standing in front of me now. I was lost in my thoughts and hadn’t notice him approach. He took the pistol from my hands.

  “No Father, please don’t try and stop me. I could kill Mary or Rose. When I am a wolf, I do not see people, I see easy prey. And since they are children I would go for them before you. I am a monster and I must be stopped. Please kill me." I gulped. "Or I will kill your daughters.” I yelled the last words, trying to force him to do what was right. His eyes widened and he slowly raised the pistol.

  I closed my eyes and waited. But nothing happened. I opened them and saw my father crying. A sight, I had never before seen in all of my eighteen years.

  “I can’t do it. You are my son.” He still had the pistol pointed at me, but his hands were shaking.

  “Do it Father, or I will! Do it!” I shouted.

  His eyes were tortured. “I cannot,” he whispered lowering the weapon.

  I grabbed it, aimed and pulled the trigger, the pistol exploded in my hand leaving a ringing in my ears. Just then, my farther hit the barrel and the bullet lodged into my shoulder, instead of my target--the heart.

  I fell to the ground. My father stepped back in shock, his eyes wide. Then gaining his senses, he pushed his hands onto my shoulder trying to stop the blood. “Nathaniel how could you? I can’t lose you. Why?” He fell on top of me, weeping.

  I felt tingling where the bullet went in, then pressure. I pushed my father up and lifted my shirt. We both sat and watched the bullet fall out of my shoulder.

  My father watched in disbelief as my wound slowly healed. He stumbled back, as if he had been burned.

  I bent down, resting my head on my knees in defeat. I was a monster and there was nothing I could do about it.

  He sat across from me on the grass thinking. His head was lowered, resting in his hands.

  After a few minutes, my father lifted his head. “You will go. We will pack your things while they sleep and you will live at our old cabin in Baycrest. The cabin is isolated, surrounded by forest. If you stay around the property, there won’t be a problem. If anyone can fight this, it’s you. I believe in you, Son.”

  His confidence gave me hope.

  I thought about it. “Charlotte said I will only change once a month on the full moon. I can make sure I stay at the cottage on those days. But how will I live? I have no money.”

  “I will give you what I have saved for you to go to school, you can’t go now. And I will send you bank drafts monthly. We must change your name and I will send funds to the post office in Baycrest.”

  I had hope for the first time in two days. “I’ll do it.”

  My father and I packed up my belongings. While I was out at the old buggy loading my things, my mother came out of the house.

  “You cannot leave me,” she said touching my face with her hand. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She smelled of roses; I would miss that scent while I was gone.

  I held the hand she had resting on my face. “Mother I must, it is the only way. Did Father tell you?”

  She pulled her hand away, turned her head and nodded.

  “I am so sorry Mother, but this is the only way to protect you, Father and the girls.”

  She turned back to me, her face was determined. “You will beat this. I know it. You are a strong man. You go and learn to control what you are. But I will see you again. You are my child.” She took me in her arms and held me tight. “I love you,” she whispered, then ran into the house. With her light colored dress, she looked like a ghost in the night.

  I stood motionless watching her. Leaving them would be the hardest thing I had ever done, but it was something that I knew I must do.

  My father came out carrying the bedding from my bed, placing it in the buggy. “There are a few cartons of food your mother wants you to take. Have you got everything you need?”

  I nodded. “Nearly, I just want to look in my room to make sure.”

  We stepped into the house together. I went to my room and picked up the rest of the things I wanted to take, my favorite books and pictures of the family. I loaded them into a crate and then remembered my lanterns. I looked around my room one last time, and then walked out to load the crate into the carriage. My father was waiting for me, having loaded all of the food.

  “You keep Bessie and Franklin. There is a small stable to keep them in. I don’t think there are any supplies in the cabin. Did you bring your lanterns?”

  “Yes Father, and if I need anything I can go to the general store. I have my money,” I said, patting the breast pocket of my coat.

  “Tell them your name is William Riley, and that you are my cousin. I will send letters to you in that name."

  "Father, Charlotte told me that I will not age. What if someone notices?"

  "You will have to move on every couple of years, but never leave without writing me.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t Father, and I will write to you as soon as I can. Shall I write to the girls?”

  He hesitated for a few seconds before nodding. “Yes, but tell them you went to college early. We will have to explain the truth eventually, but not until they are older.”

  “Alright, Father. I have to go.”

  He stared at me, as if contemplating whether or not he should let me leave. His dark blue eyes, so like my own, looked black under the night sky. His cap was tilted, showing some of his light hair. I watched him, hoping I would not forget what he or the rest of my family looked like. At this moment, I was afraid I would never see them again, and an ache formed in my chest. When it looked like he was not going to say anything else, he wrapped me in his arms for a quick hug, the smell of his pipe tobacco whirled around us. “I love you, Son. Take care.” Releasing me, he walked swiftly i
nto the house without looking back.

  I glanced around the farm one last time before hopping onto the carriage. I was miserable at the thought of leaving our lovely home. I grew up here and had so many memories. For some reason, the image of Henry and me sneaking into the kitchen when we were only six years old popped into my mind. We were trying to steal a few lemon cakes. As we snatched them off the table, we thought that we had gotten away with the perfect theft. I found out later, that my mother had left them out for us.

  “Yaw,” I yelled, slapping the reins to get the horses to move. When I passed the barn, a memory of Lucy entered my thoughts. She was only ten, and I dared her to jump from the loft into the mound of hay. I was punished dearly when my father got wind of it, and Lucy was laid out for a week with a sprained ankle. Despite my dreary mood, a small smile appeared on my lips at the memory. My mother felt so bad at what had happened that she made me visit Lucy everyday to keep her company, which was when my feelings began to develop. The smile vanished as the now familiar image of Lucy's dead face took over the memory.

  There was a loud boom of thunder, followed by a streak of lighting that flashed in the sky above me, reminding me of my current state. I could no longer linger here. This was my past, and as much as I hated to, I had to let it go. With a feeling of utter helplessness, I picked my hat up off the seat and put it on, waiting for the rain. I managed to get to the village square before the downpour started. Our old buggy didn’t have a canopy and the horses and I were drenched within seconds. This was not a good night for Franklin and Bessie. When I had helped Father, put on their bindings, they were skittish around me. They must have been sensing the change in me. Using a soft voice and gently stoking them calmed them down, but there eyes never left me. I might have soothed them, but I hadn't gained their trust yet.

  The rain was relentless as we made our way, I didn’t mind it though, it just added to my dismal mood. I was leaving the only place I felt at home, everything and everyone I ever knew, to make a new life. I didn't know how to be a werewolf and I couldn't help feeling as I made my way alone through the deserted roads, that my life was over.