Midnight Moonlight

by Chambers, V. J.

Ryder was already getting out of the car and striding forward to meet the man he’d called Enoch. Jasper cast a glance at Calla, swore under his breath, and then unbuckled his seatbelt. “Stay here.” He got out of the car too.

  Calla could hear what they were saying, though it was muffled by the car, and she could see them illuminated in the headlights.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” said Ryder.

  “Leroy got in contact with me,” said Enoch. “Apparently, he needed some reinforcements.” Men appeared behind Enoch, pouring out of the woods. There were at least twenty of them, and they all looked burly and dangerous. Leroy was there as well, sneering.

  Calla cringed from him, even though she didn’t think he could see her through the shine of the headlights.

  Enoch surveyed Ryder. “Leroy told me that you were messed up in the head.”

  “He was,” protested Leroy.

  Enoch chuckled. “He pulled the wool over your eyes, Leroy.”

  “No,” said Leroy. “I swear, he wasn’t faking it.”

  Enoch folded his arms over his chest, eyes still on Ryder. “Don’t you know that if I couldn’t get payment or service from you, I’d just get it from your family?”

  “I don’t serve you,” said Ryder, nostrils flaring.

  “No one serves me,” said Enoch. “But you do owe service to the cause. Or else pay back our loan. That’s the deal, Ryder. One or the other. Money or time.”

  “And if I refuse?” said Ryder.

  “It’s only one night,” said Enoch. “One night of service to the cause or all that cash. Now, which seems better to you?”

  “I won’t help you kill innocents,” said Ryder. “I told you that when I left.”

  Enoch shook his head, making tsk-tsk noises. “That’s the wrong answer, Ryder. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult.” He leaned close. “None of them are innocents. I’ve explained this to you before.”

  “No.”

  Enoch shrugged. “Then pay me the money back.”

  “I can’t do that either.” Ryder lifted his chin.

  Jasper was standing behind his brother. Now, he put his hand on Ryder’s shoulder and started to say something.

  But Ryder shook him off. “What are you going to do about that?” he asked Enoch.

  Enoch glared at him.

  “You going to kill me?” said Ryder. “After everything you’ve said about the lives of wolves like us being sacred? About how we need to be here to carry on after the purge? About how it’s better for twenty humans to die than one true-born wolf?”

  “You betray your ancestry, though,” said Enoch.

  Ryder put his finger in Enoch’s face. “You’re a liar that’s what you are.” He turned to the other men, who were gathered behind Enoch. “This man’s a liar. You all see it. If he kills me, you know he breaks his word.”

  Enoch looked uncomfortable.

  Calla held her breath. She wasn’t sure what Ryder was up to, but she was beginning to think that he knew what he was doing. What was he going to do?

  Ryder poked Enoch in the chest. “I’ve got a proposition for you. We’ve got a disagreement, so let’s settle this like wolves. One on one.”

  What? What did that mean? Calla twisted her hands together in her lap.

  “What do you mean?” said Enoch.

  “A duel,” said Ryder. “Both of us in wolf form. We fight until first blood.”

  Enoch pressed his lips together.

  “If I win,” said Ryder, “then you forgive my debt, and you leave me alone from now on. If you win, I’ll be in service to the cause like you want.”

  “No,” said Enoch. “That’s not enough. If I win, you pay me back my money and you march in service to the cause.”

  Ryder sucked in breath. He hesitated. Then, he nodded. “All right. Okay, I can do that.”

  Calla wasn’t sure if that was a great idea. What was this duel thing? And what would happen if Ryder lost? Was he so confident that he could take on Enoch? Enoch looked pretty intimidating. She chewed on her lip, feeling nervous.

  But—even though Ryder had said they’d be in wolf form—she was utterly surprised when the next thing happened.

  Both Ryder and Enoch tore off their clothes, and they shifted into wolves. It was quick and fluid, fur and claws and teeth taking over their features so fast that it was a blur. One minute men, the next minute wolves.

  Calla stiffened. She didn’t like werewolves. She didn’t like seeing them.

  And when the two wolves both began to snarl, all she could see was the red balloon, drifting off into the sky, farther and farther.

  No, she thought.

  But suddenly, she wasn’t even in that car anymore. In her mind’s eye, she was transported to a different day, one so many years ago…

  * * *

  “Don’t let go of the balloon, Calla,” her father told her when they got it from the balloon seller on the street.

  Calla remembered being mesmerized by the seller, who was walking around with a huge bunch of balloons—so many that she wondered how he was even still standing on the ground. Why didn’t the balloons lift him up into the air? She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, and her father had knelt down next to her and said, “Do you want a balloon?”

  Calla was four. She didn’t even understand—not really—that the balloons were for sale, or that she could have one. But the minute that the prospect occurred to her, she nodded vigorously.

  Her mother had been a bit annoyed, muttering how they were wasting time and they were going to be late.

  It was getting dark and the tall buildings in the city cast dark shadows over the street as the sun sank in the sky. Calla wasn’t even sure where they were going, but that was typical. She didn’t pay much attention to those kinds of things.

  Later, she would wish that she remembered. She had only a few clear memories of her parents, and she wished that she had more.

  Her father was adamant that she have the balloon, however. He said it would only take a minute, and so he went to the seller and paid him. And the seller took out a red balloon from amongst the bunch. He handed it to her father.

  Her father handed it to her. “Don’t let go of the balloon, Calla.”

  She clutched it tightly, terrified it would slip from her grasp.

  One hand held the balloon, the other her father’s hand. And they walked through the streets of the city as the sun drifted further and further below the horizon and the shadows grew deeper and deeper. But the streetlights kicked on, and they illuminated everything. Calla could look up and see her balloon, bright red and gleaming under the lights.

  Her mother was yammering on. “I swear to God, I don’t see why they insist on staying in the city. Everyone else has moved out to the suburbs. And especially now that they’ve got a baby on the way. What kind of life do they think that child’s going to have growing up with concrete?”

  Her father chuckled. “You’re not going to say that to them, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Her mother laughed too.

  Calla beamed up at them. She liked their laughter. They were her world, her shining stars, the two anchors on which she hung the universe.

  And they walked.

  They walked and walked, and it got darker and darker.

  Her mother stopped at the end of a sidewalk, furrowing her brow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” said her father.

  Her mother pointed across the street. “It completely skips the number we’re looking for.”

  Her father furrowed his brow. “That can’t be right.”

  Her mother threw up her hands. “I knew that we should have taken a cab. They know where all the addresses are.”

  “No, it’s got to be…” Her father trailed off.

  Calla looked up at her balloon, feeling anxious. She didn’t like it when her parents were worried. It messed up the entire universe. She twisted on her feet, chewing on her lip, and watching the red bal
loon.

  Movement caught her eye, and she turned. There was a man coming up the alleyway. There was something wrong with him. Calla could see that, but she didn’t know what it was.

  The man was stumbling, and his eyes were bulging.

  “Daddy,” she whispered.

  “Calla, sweetie, I’m talking to Mommy,” he said.

  She tugged at the end of his shirt. “There’s a man, Daddy.”

  The man clutched the wall, as if he wasn’t able to stand upright. His face was agonized.

  “He’s sick,” said Calla.

  “One second, sweetie,” said her dad.

  And then the man doubled over and let out a horrific shriek.

  That got her parents attention. They both turned to look at the man.

  The man threw his head back and…

  His skin ripped.

  Something was inside him. Something furry. It was tearing away the man, like a chicken pushing its way out of an egg—a fearsome birth that destroyed.

  Calla backed up, reaching blindly for one of her parents, unable to take her eyes off of the man.

  Her father snatched her by the shoulder and shoved her behind him.

  Then she couldn’t see. She could hear more ripping, more screaming…

  She looked up at her red balloon.

  Don’t let go of the balloon.

  She clutched it.

  “Alan, we need to go,” said her mother, her voice panicked.

  “Go where?” said her father. “If we run, it will chase us. It’s instinctive for animals like that. They think we’re prey.”

  Animal? What animal? Calla peered around her father’s legs to see that there was no longer a man standing there. Instead, there was a large, furry wolf. There were pieces of skin and gobs of gore scattered all around it, lying on the ground. The wolf was baring its teeth, wrinkling up its muzzle.

  “We have to go,” said her mother, grabbing Calla’s hand and dragging her down the street.

  “No, Beverly, wait,” said her father.

  But the wolf bounded forward, after them, and Calla could see it as she and her mother ran.

  The wolf tackled her father, knocked him down on his back just like that. And Calla had always thought her father was so strong. She hadn’t thought that anything could hurt him.

  “Get Calla out of here!” her father was screaming. “Go, Beverly.”

  But her mother had stopped moving. Her mother was rooted to the spot, watching the wolf and her father.

  The wolf snarled in her father’s face.

  “Stop!” Calla’s mother hurled her purse at the wolf.

  It hit it right in the face, and the wolf turned its snarl on her mother.

  Her mother shrieked.

  Calla looked up at her balloon. She was terrified, but she didn’t know what to do.

  Don’t let go of the balloon.

  The wolf bounded off of her father and onto her mother.

  Her mother was sobbing, scrambling on the pavement under the wolf, trying to get away, to get up.

  Her father staggered to his feet. He was bleeding.

  Calla didn’t know what to do.

  Don’t let go of the balloon.

  But she did. The balloon slipped out of her fingers and went up into the sky, past the streetlights, past the stars, far, far away…

  And when she looked back, after watching the balloon’s ascent, it was over.

  Neither of her parents was moving.

  * * *

  The wolves circled each other, both growling.

  Calla felt frozen in terror. She understood it now—more than she had quite understood it before. Ryder was a werewolf. He was like that savage creature that had ripped her parents to shreds that night. He turned into this beast, the thing that was right in front of her.

  It really was all over, whatever had been between them. She couldn’t be with a man who wasn’t really a man. She couldn’t be with a monster. She watched the wolf that had been Ryder, its muscles moving beneath its pelt as it circled the other wolf. Ryder was a predator. She could see the way that he was sizing up his opponent. He was ferocious.

  But she thought of the tender way that he had touched her, the reverence of his fingers gliding over her skin…

  Enoch lunged.

  Calla cried out.

  But Ryder backed away, avoiding the attack.

  Despite everything, she wanted him to win. She didn’t want to be at the mercy of this Enoch person, who sounded cruel and horrible. Ryder was at least better than that man, she had to admit. Maybe they could never be together, but that didn’t mean that she wished him harm.

  No, she hoped that Ryder won this fight. She hoped it with every fiber of her being.

  Ryder swiped at Enoch with one of his paws. He connected, knocking the other wolf off balance.

  But Enoch just shook it off. He leaped on top of Ryder.

  Both wolves went down in a tangle of limbs and claws. There was a whimpering noise and a growling noise, but Calla couldn’t tell who was making which.

  She clutched at the car door, terror gripping her. She was trying to see if she understood what this was all about. Ryder had said first blood, hadn’t he, which meant that all one of them had to was to make the other bleed.

  She struggled to see if Enoch’s teeth were in Ryder.

  Now it seemed that Ryder’s skin was far too fragile for such a stupid trial. How dare he risk everything this way? What if he lost? What would happen to all of them? What would Enoch do?

  Calla’s heart thudded in her chest.

  She was terrified, but she was also angry. She couldn’t believe that Ryder would take a chance like this.

  And she couldn’t see anything.

  The two wolves were still scuffling, rolling around in the light of the car’s headlights, kicking up dust. They were obscured by a cloud of dirt in the air, and the dust reflected the headlights back, making it impossible to see either of them.

  All she could do was hear the noises—the growls and snarls and yips and whines.

  It was too much. She was shaking. Her skin felt damp, as if a sheen of sweat had popped up everywhere. She didn’t think her heart could beat any faster. She felt it pounding everywhere—in her wrists, in her temple. It was almost painful the way it pulsed against her skin.

  She stole a glance at Jasper, who was white-faced, standing on the other side of the car, his hands clenched in fists.

  And underneath all the anger that was forming, and the fear for her own well-being, Calla was also worried for Ryder himself. What if the dust cleared and they saw him lying there, motionless and dead, like her parents all those years ago? What if he got himself killed?

  Was Enoch ruthless enough to do it?

  Calla was fairly sure that he was.

  She didn’t want Ryder dead. She didn’t even want him hurt. Even if he was a monstrous wolf, she still felt a bit of tenderness towards him.

  If he was dead… She felt the loss of it invade her soul, ripping through her and making her feel despondent. No, please don’t let him be dead. Please, please.

  She pictured his body all torn to pieces, bloody and destroyed. For some reason, in her imagination, he was in human form again, and he looked so vulnerable and sad.

  She shut her eyes, trying to drive the image away, but it only became stronger in her mind’s eye. She shook herself.

  And there was noise all around her—the men all bellowing in loud voices.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  Ryder was standing up in front of the car, naked and out of breath.

  The dust swam in the light of the headlights, but she could see Enoch, still in wolf form, licking a wound on his flank.

  “First blood!” Ryder called out, his voice seeming to echo off the trees.

  Enoch’s body twisted back into human form. He stood up to face Ryder, his expression fierce. “If you think—”

  “You won’t go back on your word, will you?” Ryder’s eyes flas
hed.

  Enoch sneered.

  It was tense, no one saying anything, all the men around staring at them. The light of the headlights seemed cold, and everyone seemed frozen.

  Then Enoch stalked over and picked up his discarded pants. He pulled them back on. “Fine, then. The cause doesn’t need someone like you.”

  Ryder lifted his chin.

  Enoch turned to the other men. “We wouldn’t take someone who wasn’t loyal, would we, boys?”

  The men seemed confused for a moment, but then they all roared out a rousing negative chorus.

  Enoch spat on the ground. “Get the hell out of here, scum. I never want to see your face again.”

  Ryder snatched up his jeans. “My pleasure.”

  Calla backed into the car as Ryder returned.

  Ryder yanked open the back seat and slid inside.

  Jasper got in the car too. He looked at Ryder in the rear view mirror.

  Ryder pulled the door shut.

  Jasper turned the key in the ignition.

  The car surged forward, past all of Enoch’s men.

  Calla peered out the back window, watching them grow further and further away, almost like her red balloon.

  “I can’t believe you risked that,” said Jasper.

  Ryder laughed. “It worked out, didn’t it?”

  “You had no way of knowing—”

  “I knew I could take Enoch in wolf form. I was a wolf for a long time. I’m just glad he actually went for it.”

  Jasper shook his head.

  Calla slumped in her seat.

  The car picked up speed, and they left it all behind.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ryder found Calla sitting outside Jasper’s RV, staring off into the distance. He thought that she looked beautiful but sad. They’d been back at the carnival for several hours, and he wanted to make sure that she got taken care of. He’d been working on that. But he had to admit that he wished she wouldn’t leave. He didn’t know much about her, but he sensed that she was a good person. And, of course, she was sexy as hell.

  He’d never much cared for incredibly thin women. He liked them to look like Calla, curvy and luscious. She was gorgeous.

  But beyond that, he was drawn to her in a different way. He knew that she’d cared for him when he hadn’t been himself, and he sensed her sensitivity toward him. He felt tenderly towards her as well.