Crying for the Moon

by Sarah Madison

  A young black man sporting a T-shirt that showed off his impressive physique seemed to be winning the punching game. As Alex watched, he registered a score of 880 points on the board. The next highest score was 650. Each player swaggered forward, intent on toppling the leaders from the board. Alex watched in idle amusement as the high scorer whooped and preened over his numbers, wondering what his reaction to a bar-brawler like Duncan would be and whether things would erupt in a fight.

  Something of that must have shown on his face because, when the boy’s gaze caught his eye, he addressed Alex. “Pretty good, huh?” He flexed a bicep, though whether it was meant to challenge or impress, Alex wasn’t sure.

  Alex didn’t care much for the kid’s posturing. He smiled briefly and looked away.

  “Aw, don’t waste your time, Ricky.” The sneer in the speaker’s voice made Alex turn back again. It was one of the other college kids. He held eye contact with Alex for a moment before continuing. “Pretty boy there’s not in your league. I doubt he even plays on the same team.”

  Alex could see that they’d all had a bit too much to drink. The kid who spoke had blond hair in a military-style buzz cut and was flushed with alcohol. Alex considered telling him what he’d look like in fifteen years, when he was no longer playing sports, with thinning hair and a beer belly, but he saw no sense in pouring gasoline on a well-lit fire. Only some perverse little imp made him respond anyway.

  “Not at all. I was just wondering if that was the best you could do.” He indicated the boxing bag.

  The boys began to hoot and slap one another, even as Blondie thrust his chest out in front of him. “Let me guess,” he said. “You think you can do better?”

  “Mind holding this?” Alex handed Tate’s coat to one of the other frat boys. “Now, how does this work? Anybody have some change?”

  One of the boys held out a handful of quarters. Alex smiled at the guy nearest to the coin slot, turning on the full force of his charm. He could feel the thrum of the boy’s heartbeat and could tell that the kid was turned on and excited without knowing why. “You mind?”

  The frat boy shoved the coins in the machine with alacrity.

  Alex approached the bag, eyeing it carefully. “I just hit it?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” said Blondie. “Try not to break a nail.” He chortled at his own joke.

  Alex had a mental image of driving his nails deep into Blondie’s skin, pinning him down as he shrieked, his screams turning to gurgles. He could almost taste the blood; his mouth watered and his cock throbbed in sympathy. Fortunately, the boys were too drunk to notice.

  He pulled his fist back and aimed it at the bag in slow motion, stopping just before he touched it. Shooting Blondie what he knew to be an evil smile, he returned his focus to the bag. With a blur of motion, he struck the leather bag full force. It exploded at the seams, releasing stuffing as it swung crazily from its hook. The numbers on the board scrolled upward over a thousand before stuttering and blanking out.

  “Oops,” Alex said into the stunned silence.

  The boys erupted into wild cheering just as Tate came out of the restroom. Alex collected Tate’s coat and handed it over to Tate as he walked up.

  “What’s all that about?” Tate asked, glancing over his shoulder as they walked back to the front of the bar.

  “I have no idea,” Alex said.

  Chapter 4

  THE closer it got to the next full moon, the more misgivings Alex started to have about Nick’s group hunting the property. It had been such an easy thing to suggest at the time; he knew how difficult it was for werefolk to find the kind of forest deep enough to allow the hunting they craved. Sure, they could go to a major city and find plenty of prey there, but for a pack such as Nick’s, who preferred not to kill humans or live so close to a large metropolitan area, Alex’s place was ideal.

  He couldn’t take back his permission now. Still, he worried about the brown tabby. EPT had begun regularly showing up for the little dish of canned food he put out every morning. At first, the young tom would flatten and hiss if Alex came too close to him, but as the days passed and Alex made no attempt to touch him, the tom had become amazingly friendly, becoming a permanent fixture around the house and running up to greet Alex whenever he pulled up in the driveway. The cat would roll on his side on the porch as Alex approached, entwining himself between Alex’s legs as he tried to enter the house. The cat even tolerated it when Alex attempted a cautious rub behind the ears. Alex knew if given half a chance, EPT would be making a bid to come indoors soon.

  The day the cat proudly deposited a limp mouse body on the porch stoop for Alex to see, he’d experienced an odd mixture of pride and camaraderie. He’d thanked the cat and told him that he’d already eaten, however. EPT had seemed to take it in stride and had settled down to munch on the mouse himself.

  As the night of the full moon grew closer, Alex wondered if he could somehow tempt the cat into the basement, where he could keep him confined until the moon was on the wane again. He wished he’d never started feeding the tom and wondered how that had even begun in the first place. Something about that expectant little face looking in his door each morning, and the way EPT shifted his weight back and forth on paws that kneaded the air, had compelled Alex to start buying cat food and setting it out each day. EPT was still prickly, however, often growling and swatting at any other cat that showed up for the food. There was no way Alex could physically pick him up, either, so if the cat wouldn’t follow him into the basement, there was nothing Alex could do to protect him.

  Alex found a widget for the lunar cycle on his browser and added it to his home page so that whenever he went online, he’d know just how close it was to the next full moon. He’d never noticed before how quickly the moon went through its phases until he sat staring at his laptop, wondering how he’d become so attached to a feral cat, and how he could protect him from the coming hunt.

  He’d been out late one evening, walking through grass that was brittle with frost, when he’d noticed lights on the road. He had realized it was Tate, coming back from some emergency call, no doubt. He’d watched until he could no longer see the red taillights through the trees and had begun to worry once more. Tate’s late-night comings and goings put a new wrinkle in things, and Alex wondered how he could warn Tate to stay home during the full moon without sounding like a nut-job.

  He hadn’t spoken to Tate since the night Alex had watched Tate eat dinner. They’d said their goodbyes on the street, with Tate suggesting that they do this again sometime and Alex agreeing that it would be a good idea. Somehow, the days had passed without Alex attempting to contact Tate. Even though he had a perfectly good reason to do so now, he still hesitated.

  After dithering a few days, he finally decided to call Tate. He pretended the call was about getting EPT vaccinated and neutered.

  “Already taken care of.” Tate was uncharacteristically abrupt and Alex wondered if he was interrupting something. “I vaccinated him last spring. Don’t you worry about neutering him; I’ll catch him sooner or later. In the meantime, if he bites you because you tried to trap him, the health department will have a cow.”

  “You don’t have pets of your own, do you?” Alex asked casually.

  Tate laughed. “Not at the moment. It seems suspicious, doesn’t it? The vet who doesn’t have any animals of his own. I used to have a close-knit group though. Three cats and a dog. They eventually died of old age. I lost the last cat a few months ago. They all got along so well, they were like a little pack, and I didn’t dare introduce anyone new.” The warmth in his voice was clearly audible over the phone. “Kind of like Nick and his friends.”

  For the first time since he’d met them, Alex felt resentment toward Nick’s kind. Centuries of racial hatred between their peoples suddenly flared, and Alex felt ashamed when he’d realized that he was letting old prejudices impact his current relationships. He knew what Victor would have said. In his mind, werefolk were dirty savages tha
t could not be trusted. He’d never approved of Alex’s interactions with Nick’s pack in the first place. Now those very interactions were a threat to both Tate and the little cat.

  For that matter, Victor would have already made Tate his plaything or else drained him dry long ago. It startled Alex to realize Victor saw vampires as superior beings with every right to hold dominion over humans. He never saw them as people. He seemed to have forgotten his own human origins, and Alex knew that was exactly what frequent feedings or trips to the coffin would do. Not to mention, once you slept in your coffin, you awoke with an insatiable desire for fresh blood.

  “I’m guessing you’ll be taking the weekend off?” Alex tried not to sound as though he were holding an interrogation.

  “Is that an invitation?” Tate asked teasingly before sighing. “I’d love to take the weekend off, do a little climbing, you know? But it’s a full moon coming up and that’s when all the crazies come out. I’ll be lucky if I don’t have any emergencies. Tell you what: I’ll put out a trap up at my house and see if I can catch the cat.”

  “What if he bites you?” Alex asked.

  Tate seemed to think that was funny. “I’ve been vaccinated against rabies. It’s part of my job.”

  Alex had to leave it at that, chewing at his lower lip as he disconnected the call, wondering how he could force Tate to stay safe at home. You could invite him over, his mind had insisted. Yeah. Like that would keep him safe.

  A few days later, he was walking the gravel road in front of his house in the late afternoon when Tate came down the road in his car. The Subaru slowed, and Tate rolled down his window as the car came abreast of Alex and stopped.

  “You look like a bona fide member of the Dead Poets Society,” Tate said, as he leaned one arm against the side of the car door.

  That grin shouldn’t have seemed so engaging, nor should it have made Alex suddenly wonder what Tate would look like in bed. That had to be the reason why Alex felt so stupid when he responded. “Um, what?”

  “You. You with your hands shoved in your pockets, the windblown hair, and the setting sun behind you. You look like you’re off to a coffeehouse reading or about to give a lecture on Frost or Tennyson.” Tate ducked under the visor to look out the windshield in front of him. He indicated the forest before turning back to quote Thoreau. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”

  For the first time in his entire existence, all the claptrap that humans made about soul mates finally made sense to Alex. The realization annoyed the hell out of him. He nodded abruptly and started walking again.

  The Subaru inched slowly along beside him until Alex sighed and stopped. When he looked over at Tate, he was frowning.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Tate didn’t look particularly bothered by the idea—just confused.

  Alex sighed, hesitated, and decided to say it outright. “No. I’ve just got some things on my mind. Look. Do me a favor, okay? Stay indoors the next few nights. Please.”

  Tate looked up at him for a long moment before slowly passing the tip of his tongue over his lips. “Anything for you, Alex.” His sultry smile turned into genuine amusement. “I just can’t say that with a straight face. I’m no good at flirting.”

  Alex wanted to kiss him right then and there. Instead, he blinked and said, “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Trying,” Tate admitted. “But you’re a hard person to read, Alexei Novik.” They held eye contact as Alex focused on the sound of Tate’s heartbeat, noting with satisfaction that it was beating faster than usual. Alex started to speak when Tate smiled wryly and drove off with a wave.

  The first night of the nearly full moon, Alex found himself pacing restlessly in the living room. He’d built a stout fire, but it failed to comfort him. Darkness had fallen, but the moon had not yet risen. Nick’s pack was on the way; Tish had called earlier and Alex could hear the excitement in her voice as she’d spoken.

  He could feel the restlessness in himself as well. It had been a long time since he’d fed on human blood, and the smell and taste of it kept coming to mind, teasing him with the promise of satisfaction that only a real blood meal could give. He wondered what it would be like to stop feeding on humans altogether, to forego the coffin entirely. Would he begin to age like a normal person? Would he eventually die? The thought made him queasy and uncomfortable. The urge to feed was growing stronger. It wouldn’t be long now before the call of blood drove him to feed no matter how determined he was to hold out. The raw meat and bottled blood just wasn’t satisfying him anymore, despite the fact that he could order almost anything online these days. What if by refusing to allow himself to feed in a normal fashion, he suddenly snapped, taking the life of the next hapless person who crossed his path? What if it was Tate?

  See? This is why you need to feed while you can still control it. The insidious voice in his mind sounded suspiciously like Victor, and it annoyed him. He told the voice to shut the fuck up and noted with satisfaction when it did. He continued to wander about the house aimlessly, recognizing that it was going to be another long night and contemplating the best way to occupy his time until dawn. A Lord of the Rings marathon, perhaps? He glanced over at the stack of books piled onto the coffee table. Among the Scalzi and Tolkien now lay a copy of On Walden Pond.

  His vampire acquaintances would laugh at his dilemma. The cat, Tate, Nick’s pack, all of it was of his own making because he’d chosen to care, damn it. The irony hadn’t escaped him: had he stayed in the Life he would have cared about nothing other than himself. He had more ties now than he’d had in centuries of being a vampire. He couldn’t decide if this was a good or bad thing. He knew he felt more alive than he had in years, but the threat of loss haunted him.

  He realized he’d never witnessed a were during a change before and wondered if there were certain procedures to be followed, unwritten rules to be observed, the way there were in the Life. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he should be a little concerned for his own safety, and something primeval inside whispered bring it on. He snorted at the audacity of his thoughts. No individual vampire was a match for a were pack on the hunt. He’d have to ask Nick when they arrived what he should expect. He wondered if he’d get a reasonable answer. In the few conversations he’d had with the pack over the past few days, he could hear the irritability and stress in their voices. Even Tish had been sharp and bitchy, which had astonished Alex at the time.

  He caught himself holding his breath when he heard the sound of Nick’s old van chugging up the drive. Stepping out onto the porch to watch it pull in, he glanced around anxiously for EPT and gave an internal sigh of relief when the cat was nowhere in sight.

  In a moment of whimsy during the summer, Nick had painted the dilapidated Chevy van to look like the Mystery Machine from the old Scooby Doo cartoons. The irony of this never failed to make Alex smile whenever he saw it. His amusement was short-lived tonight, however, when Nick’s pack spilled out of the van to stand in the driveway. A frisson of unease rippled through him as he watched the members of Nick’s pack make eye contact with one another and then silently approach him, letting Nick take point. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he felt their collective lethality, as palpable in the air as the scent of blood after a kill.

  “Alex.” Nick’s voice was gruff, almost growling. He and the others stayed just out of the edge of the light thrown from the open door. Behind him, Alex could see Peter tipping his head back to sniff the air. The light caught his eye as he turned his head, and Alex saw the bright gold flare he normally associated with wildlife and car headlights.

  “So how does this work, Nick?” Alex asked, deliberately keeping his voice casual. “Maybe we should’ve talked about this earlier?”

  A flash of white teeth gleamed in the dark: Duncan, reacting to his statement. Exactly
what that reaction was, amusement or anger, Alex couldn’t tell.

  “The moon will be up soon,” Tish said softly, her voice rich and sultry. Alex could feel the heat and sexual excitement in it and something stirred inside him as well. “When it does, it would be best if you stayed indoors. We’ll come back at dawn.”

  “Okay.” Alex frowned. “But I do have a request. There’s this one little cat—”

  Nick cut him off sharply. “It doesn’t work like that. If it runs, it’s prey. You know that, Alex.”

  “Are you saying you have no choice in the matter?” Alex knew he sounded belligerent and that wasn’t helping matters, but damn it, he had to try. “That you can’t choose your prey?”

  “If we’re sated, yes.” Duncan’s input was unexpected, and both Tish and Peter turned to look at him. “But when we first change, when the rush of the bloodlust is upon us, no.” It must have been his imagination, but he sounded a little regretful to Alex.

  Peter was shifting his weight on his feet, glancing alternatively at the sky and the forest behind them. He reminded Alex of EPT waiting for breakfast, and he felt a pang of impending loss. Stay away, little cat.

  “How’s about this?” Nick peeled off his shirt over his head and dropped it at his feet. He toed off his boots as he continued to speak, his words a slow and measured drawl. “We undress now and head out, putting as much distance between the house and us as possible. We were planning to go up on the mountain anyway. No sense in calling attention to ourselves by slaughtering Farmer Joe’s prize Holsteins.”

  He started unbuttoning his jeans. Behind him, the rest of the pack was following suit. The very casual nature of the disrobing was somehow mesmerizing, and Alex found himself wishing the moon would come out so that he could see the gleam of moonlight on all that bare skin before he realized how counterproductive that would be. He felt the heat of desire stirring inside him again, and he suddenly pictured Tate undressing in front of him instead.