Moon

by Samantha Allard

  Great, maybe insanity is catchy.

  "I don't want him touching me." I aimed for confidence, but the squeak that came out sounded far from it.

  All three of them faced me. Rose and Colin shared a look, but whatever passed between them, they didn’t bother to share with the rest of us. The older woman smiled at me, and it was a scary sight. She walked toward me, hands held out with palms up.

  There was no mistaking the impression she was trying to give me. I'm just a harmless woman. No need to be scared of little old me.

  Yeah, right.

  "It's all right, sweetie. This isn't going to hurt."

  Colin snorted. The noise drew a sharp glance from his mother, and my heart skipped a beat. He cast a quick look at me and shrugged before Rose turned her attention back to me.

  "Okay, it might hurt a little,” she admitted. “But you won’t remember the pain."

  That didn’t particularly fill me with confidence, fear spiraled in the pit of my stomach.

  Henry pushed away from the kitchen counter. "It's okay to be afraid, but we're not here to hurt you."

  “You just need me to believe something that’s impossible? You’re not asking a lot.”

  He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. I’d kept my arms folded, but he reached out and picked up my left hand. His fingers were warm against my skin. I wasn’t happy with how the night had been unfolding, I wasn’t any closer to my brother, but there’s something about Henry’s touch that centered me.

  Colin sat opposite me. His bald head shone under the lights in the kitchen. I still didn’t like him. He reached out, palm up. With my free hand, I reached for the glass and took a sip of water, my mouth dry.

  Just touch it, Rachel. Prove them all wrong, and then find a way out of here. Setting the glass aside, I reached out gingerly and slipped my hand into his. It felt cold and clammy, how a dead fish would feel.

  I didn’t have time to focus on that. A stab of pain shot through me and my vision flashes white.

  Chapter Seven

  I wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. The whiteness was almost tangible, a thick mist. The last time he touched me it had been normal. It hadn’t been like this. Suddenly there’s a flash and the mist takes a shape. The light was bright enough to hurt my eyes and a headache brewed behind my eyes. Something about it reminded me of a camera caught mid-flash. Then I was standing in a field. I shielded my eyes from the bright glare of the sun. Strands of grass brushed against my bare feet. Bare feet? When did I take off my shoes?

  I took in my new surroundings. There's something familiar about the place. I’ve been there before.

  A couple appear on a blanket in front of me. One second, I was the only one there, but as soon as I remember something, they appeared. The woman’s long dark hair was plaited down her back. The man was laughing.

  I didn’t remember seeing dad look so relaxed and happy before. Dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt. An outfit very far removed from the suits I’d seen him in the past.

  If they're here, it means so are we.

  The laughter of two kids made me spin around in surprise. There we are. Michael has to be about ten, which would make me five. He's the spitting image of dad, only shorter. A head of dark hair that looked as if he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. The little girl—it's weird to think of her as me—chases after him. Her blonde pigtails flying out to either side of her as she giggles. She's wearing a blue dress with white spots that ends at the knee. Her feet are bare.

  It’s as if I’m standing in the field we used to have picnics in.

  Colin was making me remember a part of my life that I’d forgotten. Not that I didn’t want to. I could have used remembering moments like that after Michael had disappeared. A reminder that one time we’d been a family.

  The images change again. I'm standing in Trafalgar Square. It's raining, but it doesn't touch me. I was here this morning, handing out pictures of my brother. I watched the events unfold in front of me.

  God, it feels surreal to watch her. I mean me.

  I picked out the vivid shade of red from an umbrella and flashes of colors as people rush through the crowd eager to get where they need to be. A lot of the people ignored me. Then I see the man stop. He sees me before my past self-notices him. He uses a newspaper as a makeshift umbrella. Before he reaches me, something like realization crosses his face. Does he recognize me? He hadn’t said anything when he talked to me that afternoon.

  "Who is he?"

  I took the opportunity to study him in more detail. At the time, I’d thought he’d been just another passerby, but there was something off about him. He looked like a well-dressed businessman. He wore a long, dark green jacket that reached his ankles, but I could make out the navy suit underneath it. A well-kept beard, a moustache, and rain splattered glasses completed the look

  "He's my brother."

  I didn’t move, but I found myself standing next to myself. The mysterious man takes the photograph from me, and I watched his facial expression much more closely. Something that I hadn’t done earlier. He frowned slightly, I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching him so closely.

  "I'm sorry."

  He’s lying. Why?

  "It's okay. It's starting to feel a little like an impossible task," earlier me admitted.

  I looked incredibly young, and I’d been naive, I had believed him outright. A lot had changed since the morning. I’d been asked to believe in a world that shouldn’t exist. I was reliving a memory so clearly that it scared me.

  "Do you have a copy I can take? I'll show it to my friends in the office. Maybe one of them has seen him."

  "You'd do that? Thank you."

  He opened his jacket and tucked the photograph into the dry folds. "Where are you staying? In case I need to get in contact with you?"

  "Rose Hill. The number is on the back."

  He reached out, offering his hand, and I shook it "I’m John."

  "Rachel."

  "I'm sure I'll be in contact soon."

  "Come back, Rachel." Henry’s voice comes from somewhere in the distance. Ghostly. I looked around but he wasn’t in the crowd. He wasn’t anywhere. “Rachel, open your eyes.”

  ***

  I was back in the kitchen. Something had happened. Judging by the look on Colin's face, I might have grown an extra head. I looked at Henry and noticed that he still had a hold of my hand. There was no mistaking the worry in his eyes. Whatever happened, I was sure it wasn't good. With a gentle tug, I pulled my hand free.

  "You've met Jonas?"

  I rested my head in my hands. If I would’ve tried to stand up, I would have probably fallen over. "He said his name was John."

  God, I think I’m going to be sick.

  "What do you mean she's met Jonas?" Rose sounded shocked. “She’s only been here for a day.”

  The tone in her voice worried me.

  Henry slipped out of his chair until he knelt next to me, I didn’t fight him as he guided my face so he could look at me. I didn’t want him to be so close. I could barely breathe. His eyes were brown, which only seemed to magnify his sad expression.

  "I'm sorry, Rachel." He glanced towards Rose. "Plan B."

  "Are you sure?"

  He nodded. "It'll be safer for all of us. We can't afford for him to get his hands on her."

  "What are you guys talking about? What’s plan B?" I turned around and watched Rose.

  She stood next to the kettle, preparing another cup of tea. She added herbs and things that I didn’t recognize into a small cup with blue flowers painted across the side.

  Nobody talked to me. Colin left without even sparing me a backwards glance. How could someone just leave after destroying a person’s whole world with one touch? I still couldn’t get my head around everything that they’d told me. A world of monsters existed, and my brother was a part of it. I was a part of it.

  Henry didn’t look at me. "I thought, if Jonas hadn't found you yet and d
idn't even know that you existed, then you could stay. You're mentally tied to your brother. It would make finding him easier.” He glanced up, but he still couldn’t meet my eyes. “That attack was deliberate.”

  “You think he sent those boys after me?” I hadn’t seen their faces earlier, but what were the chances that it was a different set of boys?

  He nodded. “We can't afford for him to have another genetic wolf. I’m sorry."

  I shook my head as I finally figured out what he was trying to say. "I'm not leaving without my brother. I can't. There's nowhere else I can go. Don't think the nuns will take me back."

  He smiled, looking bemused. "Did you say nuns?"

  "It's a long story," I said with a shrug.

  Rose placed the small, delicate cup in front of me. "Drink this, sweetie. It will make you feel better."

  Remembering the other cup of tea made me ask, "What's in it?"

  She placed a wrinkly hand on my shoulder. "It's a special blend. It'll help calm you down. A memory trip with Colin can be a little hard on a sensitive stomach."

  As soon as the sweet liquid passed my lips, somethings wrong with it. Calmness and warmth swept over and through me, unnatural and alien. I couldn’t move. Only a small part of me seemed to care. It liked being wrapped up in cotton wool. I felt safe and protected.

  "Is she all right?" Henry pushed my hair away from my eyes.

  "She's fine, boy. You know I don't like doing this. She's interesting, and she's a genetic wolf. Those are rare as it is. Rachel should be with a pack. Maybe your Alpha will take her after all this is done?"

  "No." He shook his head. "I already lost her brother." He moved the chair around until I faced him. "You heard her, Rose. She won't go without her brother, and it’s too dangerous for her to stay. Rachel, can you hear me?"

  My head felt heavy, but I managed to nod.

  "Right, tomorrow you're going to get onto a bus and go back to your parents." He smiled as his face went out of focus. It was like looking at him through water. "You'll forget all about Michael."

  I nodded again. Who was Michael anyway?

  Chapter Eight

  Everything hurt. I rolled onto my side, tugged the blankets over my head, and snuggled farther underneath it—not bothering to open my eyes.

  What time is it?

  Even through my closed eyes, I could still make out light—actual sunlight. The nuns woke us up early, but the sun usually didn’t make an appearance for another couple of hours. Had I slept in? No, that didn’t make any sense. The nuns would have knocked on the door. They weren’t a firm believer in sleeping in. I pushed the blankets off me and finally opened my eyes.

  What the hell?

  The roof at the boarding school had wooden beams. This one painted white, decorated with swirls created by thicker layers of paint. My stomach dropped, and I fought against the urge to be sick.

  Where am I?

  Whether I was it felt warm. In Scotland my goosebumps had goosebumps. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rubbed my eyes. The room didn’t morph back into something more familiar. Something about it reminded me of a room in my Nan's house. Large yellow sunflowers covered the wallpaper, and the bedcover matched it. My whole body felt sore—like the muscles in my legs have been overworked. I stretched out and realize I was still in my clothes. Not the uniform, but the clothes that had been taken by the Mother Superior when I’d first arrived at the boarding school. How the hell had I managed to get them back?

  I pushed the blanket off me the rest of the way. My bag was next to the wardrobe. A familiar coat draped over the back of a chair and my shoes pushed underneath it.

  Where the hell am I?

  Getting to my feet, I walked toward the mirror hanging above the desk. I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and opened them, but the second time wasn’t the charm. Nothing changed. I was still stood in a room I didn’t recognize. I peeked into the mirror. Dark circles under my green eyes showed that I hadn’t gotten much sleep recently.

  Have I been sick?

  I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. My dad’s voice echoed in my mind. Panicking never helps. Keep your head about you, Rachel.

  It had been one of the random times he’d offered advice. I’d fallen into a hole, and I’d been scared. The opening of the hole had been out of reach of my eight-year-old hands. Michael had rushed off to get help and had found dad. They’d both had run back and had rescued me.

  I took stock of my surroundings and ran my hands over my clothes, making sure they hadn’t been tampered with. Am I still in Scotland?

  With my breath held, I tested the door, and the knob turned easily. I went back to my bag, opened it and found some new clothes to wear. I quickly change into jeans and a T-shirt. A light came in through a small window, barely covered by the pale yellow curtain.

  The whole room had a warmth to it, but there wasn't much in the way of furniture. It reminded me of a spare room. I made my way toward the curtain, pulled the fabric aside, and glanced outside. My dorm had looked out on the tree in the courtyard but it wasn’t there.

  The nunnery was the only building around for a few miles. It sat on a small island manned mostly by fishermen and a very small town. I shouldn't have been able to see terraced houses, a wide road, and this many people walking the streets.

  Where the hell am I?

  I picked up my bag again and took it to the bed, sitting down. There's a zip at the base. I pull at it, and a wad of notes fall out. It confirmed what I’d suspected because of the clothes I’d found in my bag, but for whatever reason, I’d been in the Mother Superior's office.

  It was possible I'd finally had enough, and I had decided running away was the only option, but something about it didn’t make sense. However, much I hated the place that held me prisoner and my parents for sending me there, I wouldn't run away without a plan.

  I collected my things and made sure the money was secure in its hiding place. Carefully, I opened the door. The first thing I noticed was the hallway. Long, with doors on either side, it was larger than most houses I'd been in.

  A motel?

  I slipped both straps of my bag over my shoulders. There wasn’t any sound as I walked past but I got the feeling the rooms weren’t empty, and I wasn’t feeling brave enough to knock on any of the doors.

  Half tiptoeing, I made my way to the stairs at the end of the hallway. The walls were empty of photographs. There was nothing to give me a clue about my location. That thought scared me. What the hell had happened that I’d forgotten a large chunk of time? The last thing I remembered was being in the common room in the boarding school. Everything afterwards was a blank.

  A noise from downstairs stopped me mid-step. It sounded as if someone was cooking breakfast. Using the handrail to balance myself, I walked the rest of the way down the stairs and breathed in deeply.

  Bacon? My stomach growled at me.

  Damn, I’m hungry.

  One of the steps creaked as I stepped on it, and I froze.

  "Rachel?" an elderly sounding voice called out.

  Is it someone I know? It didn’t sound like my grandmother. I had two options. Keep my mouth shut and dart out the door, or go into the kitchen and find out what the hell was going on. Plus, there was bacon. My stomach made up my mind for me.

  "Hello?"

  I heard the sound of shuffling feet, and then someone appeared in the doorway closest to the front door. Large glasses covered a majority of her face, and her wrinkles had wrinkles, but the smile seemed genuine enough.

  "So you're awake. Come into the kitchen, love. I've made you some breakfast."

  She clearly wasn’t my nan, and I didn’t recognize her in the slightest. How did she know my name? Before I could ask, she vanished back into the kitchen. I followed her. The call of bacon was great.

  She stood in front of an oven with frying pan in one hand, as she glanced down at whatever was cooking. The hem of the dress swamped her tiny frame, and the old woman
looked harmless enough as she smiled at me over her shoulder. There was something familiar about her, but the more I tried to think about what it was, the more it eluded me.

  "Sit down, love. You're looking a lot better. For I second, I thought we might need to call an ambulance."

  I frowned at her words. “I’ve been sick?” That didn’t make any sense. I would remember being sick. “Where am I?”

  She sighed as she slapped the bacon between two slices of bread. After she put it on a plate, she cut the sandwich and handed it to me. "I think a better question is, where should you be?"

  Well, that question was easy at least. "Scotland. I'm supposed to be at Saint Mary's School for Wayward Souls." I glanced out the window. "But this isn't Scotland." I took a bite of the sandwich and fought against the urge to sigh in pleasure. I was obviously hungry. I couldn’t even remember when I’d last eaten.

  She pulled the chair out opposite me and sat down. Everything about her made her appear unthreatening as if she was someone’s kindly old grandmother that would be blown way in a gust of wind. I knew that, but there was something about the look on her face that made my stomach feel as if it were tied up in knots.

  "Last night, I was out walking with my son, Colin. We saw you by one of the bus stops. It was late, no buses were going to come by until the morning, and you just collapsed. We brought you here, checked your bag, and found the money and ID. Are you running away from home, sweetie?"

  She leaned forward, patting my hand, but I pulled away from her. Nothing she’d said made any sense.

  "I don't remember." The more I thought about it, the harder the memories were to hold on to. "Where am I?"

  She took a big breath, then stood. I watched as she switched the kettle on.

  "You're a long way from Scotland."

  "Where am I?" I said the words slowly, just in case the panic in my voice wasn’t getting through to her.

  She turned around and crossed her arms. "You’re at the Rose Hill Motel in London."

  No, that wasn’t possible. I laughed. "I'm in London?" I didn’t believe her. It didn’t sound possible. It took about a day to travel down to the city center. How could I have lost an entire day? Had I lost more?