Lunar Rampage (Lunar Rampage Series Book 1)

by Samantha Cross

  I figured I could surprise Grandma by making us separate sauces—one for her that had meat and one for me that was without. When everything was all cooked, I put the noodles on a plate, draped it with the meat sauce, and even sprinkled parmesan on it. It was so pretty, I wanted to take a picture. Grandma took a seat in front of it and began devouring it all without saying a word.

  “Notice anything different?” I asked in the middle of sitting down.

  She stopped chewing for a half second. “What is it, dear?”

  “I put meat in your food.”

  Grandma glanced down at her fork that had spaghetti dripping from it. “Oh, you did. Thank you, dear.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said with a grin and began eating my own food.

  Suddenly, Owen popped in my head from out of nowhere and my mood soured. I kept wondering just how mad he was and if he had cooled down or not. I was in such a weird place, bouncing between thoughts of what tried to attack me and how I was going to make things okay with Owen again. I even wondered if Grandma would be upset that the only person helping me with renovations booked out of here as fast as possible. I’ve never been good with drama, and two issues had been practically thrown in my face at the same time.

  “You’re not hungry, dear?” She must have caught me dazing.

  “I think everything but my stomach woke up from my nap.”

  “I’d eat yours, but spaghetti without meat is just silly.”

  I grinned coyly. “It’s not silly. It tastes just as good.”

  “And how would you know this, dear? You never eat meat.”

  “I did when I was a kid.”

  “Your taste bud’s memory isn’t that good, pickle. I can barely remember how I got to the table, you think your tongue remembers how good meat tastes?”

  “I think my tongue would be better off not knowing what meat tastes like.”

  Her eyes narrowed to the size of peas. “Your mother tell you to say that?”

  I involuntarily laughed. “No, Grandma, that’s all me.”

  And then out of the blue she said, “Were you ever going to tell me where you were last night?”

  I dropped my fork on my plate and it made the loudest clank noise. “You couldn’t remember my name when I got here, but you remember this?”

  She nodded like an excited puppy.

  “I guess I may as well be honest. I was attacked by an animal when I was leaving Molly’s. I ended up staying at this guy Max’s house. And before you jump to any conclusions, I slept on his couch the entire night. There was no hanky panky or tiddly winks. Nothing weird. I just needed a place to hide.”

  “What animal was it?”

  I was pretty over going through my spiel of things I thought it was or wasn’t, and just simplified it with a shrug and a, “I don’t know.”

  “You’re all right, though?”

  “Aside from a near heart attack, I’m okay.”

  “That’s why you should always carry a gun.”

  “Uh, I don’t think Molly would have been okay with me carrying a piece over to her house. Besides, isn’t it illegal or something to be killing wolves?”

  “Shouldn’t matter! You have to protect yourself, dear.”

  “I also have to protect myself from getting arrested,” I replied with a chuckle. How ironic is it that I live in one of the most dangerous cities in the country, yet staying at my grandma’s house for the summer requires an automatic?

  “These animals have been a nuisance ever since I got here. Always wailing about at all hours of the night, killing cats and destroying my garbage. There ought to be a night watchman to keep them from ripping apart my flowers.”

  She piqued my interest. “Has weird stuff always been happening?”

  “Yes and no,” she said with a sway of her head and stuffed more spaghetti into her mouth. “It’s mostly gotten out of hand this summer with the dead animals on the porch and all that.”

  “Ew, gross, that’s happened? On the actual porch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nasty.”

  Out of nowhere, we heard a loud bang on the door. With the topic of animals attacking fresh on my mind, any kind of thudding was going to throw my heart into my throat. Grandma, of course, seemed mostly oblivious and focused on her dinner.

  “I’ll get it,” I told her and threw my napkin down on the table.

  I wasn’t expecting a visitor so late at night, and when I got to the door, I expected to see Max even less. But there he was on the porch, in the midst of turning away like he had second thoughts about bugging me, wearing his ridiculously comfortable looking flannel jacket and looking too good at it.

  “What are you doing here so late?” I asked.

  “Something’s wrong with Owen.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Owen? Oh, God, is he all right?

  Max threw his hands up and said, “He’s not dead or anything. A buddy of mine who works at the bar just called me. Said Owen is there drunk off his ass and making a scene.”

  My eyes leapt out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded once.

  “Is he okay? What’s going on?”

  “He’s pretty bad off, I guess. Drunk, slurring his words, throwing things around. They were going to call the cops, but someone working there decided to call me, for some reason. I guess because they know I know him,” he said with a shrug. “Who the hell knows?”

  “What about his sister?”

  “He didn’t want anyone calling Molly. I would have gotten a hold of her, but yeah...” With their history, I didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to Molly. The less drama, the better. “You were the only one he mentioned.”

  I was stunned. “Me?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I came down here. Wanted to get it done quick. I can drive you.”

  “Whoa, wait. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Talk him down before he gets arrested.”

  “Shouldn’t this really be for someone who knows him better?”

  “Come on, Cora, you know he likes you. You may be the only one who can get him to calm down.”

  I wanted to help, but was simply afraid of not being helpful at all. I didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with drunks, minus a few bachelorette parties and that one weekend at my cousin’s involving a blender. But I won’t get into that.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Max said and grabbed me by my forearm.

  I stopped. “Are you sure you should be coming? You guys aren’t exactly buddies. I don’t know how drunk he is right now, and how much you’ll upset him.”

  “You’re going to need backup if you have to drag his ass out of there. Besides, I can take a hit if it gets to that point. Especially, one from Owen.”

  “You would know.”

  “That's why I said it."

  I grabbed my jacket, told Grandma where I was going and then headed out with Max. Truth was, I was a little relieved to not have to go out there by myself. Being outside at night, all alone, was now at the top of my list of things that scared the living daylights out of me.

  When we got to the bar, I insisted Max wait out in the car while I dealt with Owen. I didn’t know what I was walking into, and backup would have been nice, but I also didn’t want Max setting him off. Those boys were like cats and dogs, Priscilla said.

  It was a seedy little bar, not too big and mostly quiet and empty. It took me a whole five seconds before I found Owen slumped over at the bar, keeping to himself and looking like he was on the brink of falling asleep. On my way up to him, I stepped over little shards of broken glass and had to kick them off the bottom of my shoes. It must have been a glass he broke. When I got closer, I realized just how out of it he looked. His hair looked even darker from sweating out what I imagined was all the alcohol in his system, which appeared to be a lot, and he just looked so pitiful and sad, like a little kid who lost their best friend. It about broke my heart.

  “Owen,” I called out gently and tou
ched his shoulder.

  When he noticed I was there, a look of embarrassment came over him. “Cora? What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” I countered.

  He slammed his eyes shut. “Oh, man... did someone call you?”

  “I wasn’t going to let you fester here.”

  “I just didn’t want them calling my sister. She worries about everything.”

  “It’s fine. She doesn’t need to know.”

  “She’s going to know, eventually.”

  “What exactly happened here, buddy?”

  He sighed deeply. “I drank too much, I guess.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “I’m all right, though. I’m going to stay here till I sober up.”

  “I don’t think the bar is open long enough for that.”

  “I’m fine,” he said and attempted to stand up from the stool he was sitting on. He got to his feet, but was unable to maintain the stance and nearly fell over, but I caught him. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

  “Sure you are,” I said and thrust him upward. “Say the alphabet backward.”

  He looked up confused. “What?”

  “Exactly. Now, come on.” I knelt down and tried to get him to swoop his arm around my body so he could use me as a crutch, but it was like I was maneuvering a slippery noodle. He couldn’t remain strong enough to keep a good grasp, and for several minutes it looked like we were doing some ridiculous dance that was never going to end. Once he finally hooked an arm around my neck, I smiled with relief. “There we go. Let’s get you home and to bed. You’ll feel so much better.”

  We only made it one step before Owen began mumbling something in my ear. “I’m sorry I snapped at you today.”

  “What?” I asked. I was trying so hard to keep him lifted that I ended up asking it through this strained superhero voice.

  “Earlier. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  “No. I yelled and I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Owen. I’m not even mad.”

  A drunken smile came over his girly lips. “That’s what makes you so great. You’re never mad. You’re never mad and you always smell good.”

  “You always a sweet talker when you drink?” He laughed a very drunken laugh right in my face and I got a nose full of beer breath. I failed to breathe for a few seconds and decided to focus on getting him out of the bar. “Let’s make a list of things that make me great later, okay? And then tomorrow we can make yours. Sound good?”

  “Sure...”

  With the worst timing ever, the bar doors swung open and there stood Max. My little tango with Owen by the bar must have taken too long, because Max was only supposed to come in if things didn’t go smoothly. You know, to make sure I hadn’t been murdered. Suddenly, Owen, who had been too out of it to even hold himself up, stood as straight as he could and looked Max dead in the eyes with this horrible pissed off glare.

  “What is he doing here?” It was like Max’s presence sobered Owen up completely.

  I patted him on the chest and said, “Don’t get mad, Owen.”

  “You brought him here, didn’t you?”

  “Someone had to tell me you were down here.”

  “So him? You called him?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Just get away from me,” he said with disgust and attempted to wriggle me off of him, but there was no way I was letting go. He’d be on the floor in two seconds. Owen didn’t relent and ended up pushing his body too harsh and I fell right off of him and almost into a chair. He didn’t mean to do it and instantly I saw the regret in his eyes. Unfortunately, Max didn’t see it that way.

  “Don’t push her,” Max commanded and grabbed Owen by the collar.

  “It’s fine,” I said. I wanted to play it down, but I nailed my elbow into the chair and damn did it hurt.

  Owen shoved Max off of him and said, “Fuck off!” He balled up his fist nice and tight and swung for Max’s face. Owen was so drunk that all Max had to do was take one tiny step out of the way for Owen to miss completely. Owen ended up throwing all his body weight into something that wasn’t there, and instantly dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  I looked to Max, who was clearly annoyed, and said, “Help me get him up.”

  Once Owen was conscious and out of the bar, he spent the next several minutes puking his guts out into the bushes of the bar’s parking lot. I stayed with him and rubbed his back, while doing my best not to focus on the horrific noises coming out of his throat that I swore weren’t human. He may have been my friend, but my stomach could only handle so much.

  Max got off easy. He stayed by the truck, leaned against the hood with his arms crossed, simply waiting for Owen’s stomach to empty. I had to respect the guy for dealing with the drama when he didn’t have to.

  I left a hurling Owen behind for a second to come talk to Max and told him, “You may as well go. Owen is pretty sick. Who knows how long this will last.”

  “That sounds good and all, but you’re forgetting I drove you.”

  “I could always call up my grandma. She may be older than sin itself, but she has bat vision.”

  “I’ll just wait.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You don’t have to, really. I’ve already put you out enough tonight.”

  “That’s all right, I like putting out,” he teased with a sinister grin.

  I tried not to laugh over the crude joke, but cracked a smile, anyway. It seemed a tad bit wrong to be making sex jokes while Owen was in the corner spitting out an organ. “Really, Max, it’s fine.”

  “It’s not like I’m the most noble guy in the world, but I don’t exactly trust you being left alone with him when he’s like this.”

  I glanced back at Owen who was still throwing up. “He’s harmless.”

  “You sure about that? He tried to hit me. Again.”

  “Maybe you have one of those faces people really want to hit.”

  “Ha,” he sarcastically responded.

  “But really, you can’t really compare it. Owen actually likes me.”

  Max unfolded his arms and leaned away from his truck. “Just let me take you guys home.”

  I caved. “All right, but we’re dropping Owen off first.”

  “Fuck yeah, we are. I’m not having his stomach acids all over my seat.”

  “I don’t know, he’s puking pretty fierce over there. It might happen.”

  “Not in my truck.”

  “What, should I lean his head out the window like a dog?”

  “Works for me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Help me get him.” Max pretty much had to carry Owen out to the truck and plunked him down in the passenger seat so he could rest his face on the windowsill. I did my best to comfort him and ensure Max’s seat wasn’t destroyed by whatever creature Owen was throwing up.

  I had to drag Owen up the pathway of his house and to the porch without Max’s help. The whole Molly thing was obviously still a sore topic and he didn’t even want to be on their property, let alone walk into the house where she’d be. Luckily, by the time we got inside, Owen had emptied most the alcohol from his system, so he was able to walk up the stairs and throw himself onto his bed. I wasn’t going to undress him or anything crazy like that, so I just took his shoes off and dragged the covers over his body. Once I was done, I stood up straight and my back cracked about five times. My body was not built for lifting full sized men.

  “I’m gonna head out,” I whispered to him.

  With his eyes still closed he mumbled, “Did I throw up on you?”

  “You got me a little bit.”

  “Oh...”

  “It’s all right. It was just the shoes. They’re an ugly pair, anyway.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries.”

  “Tell Molly, I’m so sorry. About everything.”

  That sounded a bit dramatic for a
little drinking gone bad. “Uh, okay,” I said. For some reason, I felt like we weren’t talking about the same thing. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I told him and then crept out of the bedroom quietly.

  I came downstairs and immediately noticed a figure wrapped up in the white curtains to the main windows of the living room. It looked like someone was dressed up as a ghost for Halloween. It took me just a few seconds before I realized it was Molly, who wasn’t sleeping as I had assumed, peering out the window at Max’s truck, remaining still and wrapped up in the white material. It was a little weird.

  “Out with Max, huh?” she said very calmly, knowing I was behind her without even having to turn around.

  “He’s the one who told me about Owen.”

  “How convenient.”

  I hopped down to the final step of the stairs and said, “I’m going to head out now. You might want to check in on Owen every once in a while. Make sure he’s not choking on his own vomit.”

  Molly unwrapped herself from the curtains. “He’s just going to use you.”

  “What?”

  “Max. He’ll use you and toss you to the side. That’s what he does.”

  “Molly, I really don’t want to get involved in your guys’ personal stuff.”

  “You’re nothing special to him. No one is.”

  “I know you’re heartbroken—”

  “I am not heartbroken,” she snapped. “I don’t care about him.”

  “Then why...?” I wanted to ask why she was so angry if she didn’t care, but I decided to drop it. I wasn’t really going to have a rational conversation with a bitter ex-girlfriend, so best to leave things alone. “I better go.”

  “Fine,” Molly responded bitterly. “Don’t cry to me when he gets tired of you.”

  I bit my tongue and walked out the door. The nerve of the girl. I got feeling heartbroken and sad, but I really didn’t need the claws coming out.

  “Owen still alive?” Max asked as I sat down in the passenger side of his truck.

  I sighed and said, “What exactly did you do to that girl?”

  He exhaled deeply. “Let me guess, she was talking shit about me.”