Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  “Of course you will, but I don’t want you picking anymore fights.” She opens and closes cabinets, searching for coffee mugs, I suppose.

  “I didn’t pick this one on purpose. It’s not my fault Ben has a jealous girlfriend.” Since she’s still searching, I add, “Right side, upper cabinet, above the stove.”

  Opening the correct one this time, she smiles. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Listen, I invited Jana and Blake over for dinner. Hope that’s okay.”

  Mom shrugs. “Fine with me. What time will they be over?”

  “Not sure.” A couple of days ago Jana was worried about Blake’s condition, so she dropped me off without saying hello. Ever since, my parents have wanted to meet the heroic friends who saved my life.

  “I can’t wait to thank them for what they did. That was very brave.”

  I smile. “That’s Jana and Blake for you.” Finishing my muffin, I gulp down the last of my orange juice with it. “Where’s Beth? I should probably make sure she knows they’re coming.”

  Mom picks up a local newspaper and straightens it out. “Mmm. Last I checked she and Randy were preparing the chair in the basement.”

  “The chair?”

  Distracted, Mom murmurs a confirmation.

  I prod further. “What chair?”

  “The one that we’ll use for your birthday.” She turns the page, eyes coursing down the left side, but then landing on the right.

  “So, it’s a birthday chair? Like a queen’s throne or something?”

  She glances up, smiling. “Something like that.”

  “Okay. Well . . . I’m going to find Beth, then.” I don’t know what I need a birthday chair for; it’s not like I’ve thrown any major parties for prior birthdays. This one’s only different because of what I’ll become, not because I’ll legally be able to vote, smoke, or buy weapons.

  Downstairs—like, basement downstairs—Randy and Beth surround a chair made of thick, wooden boards. Each timber has to at least be four to five inches in diameter, and the back and seat are armored steel. It’s not so much the planks and steel that surprise me; it’s the chains attached to every corner. Chunky, powerful chains. Chains meant to hold something in place without it breaking loose.

  Chains meant for me.

  At first—I’m not going to lie—I suck in a deep breath and cling to it. Everything I’ve been told will happen the night of my birthday seems just as bad, if not worse, in my mind. What if they’ve been withholding information from me? What if there’s something I’m supposed to do to make it easier and they haven’t advised me of it? Maybe I’ve been blind to the facts, or maybe I’m trying to ease my thoughts by cutting myself a break, but either way this isn’t going to be a great experience.

  I take the few remaining steps to the ground floor, shifting my weight onto one leg, crossing my arms. “So, when were you going to tell me about this?”

  They snap their heads toward me.

  “Candra, dear—”

  “I thought this would be an adventure, like free to roam the woods in our backyard, not tied to an electric chair.”

  Beth moves her head in one swift movement, disapproving. “This isn’t an electric chair, Candra.” She glances at Randy, waiting for him to say something.

  Taking the cue, he says, “It’s for your protection, and ours. You won’t be use to the change, so we wouldn’t be able to stop you except through violent force.” With a somber look, he adds, “It’s just easier this way.”

  I’m not convinced. “Does everyone have to use this chair, or is it just me?”

  “Everyone in our family,” he boasts.

  Still not convinced. “Why are you guys so afraid of letting me loose? Jana, Blake, their families, the rest of the Watchers—all of them change without problem.”

  “That’s different,” says Beth. “After your first time, there isn’t pain and you can control your body. But your first night is completely different. The hurt, your limbs shifting—it’s too much to handle and your brain can’t process the changes. So, more or less, you wouldn’t be you.”

  I can’t believe my family is going to shackle me to a chair and watch me turn. How repulsive is that? Although part of me is grateful to have them care so much, the other part is sickened that they would spend my birthday eating cake, watching me open presents and waiting in the wings while I turn into a fur ball.

  “Candra . . .” Beth begins, but doesn’t finish. She reaches out to me, then retracts her hand like I’m surrounded by an unseen, flaming bubble.

  “I just don’t understand why nobody tells me anything. Just because I’m not like you yet doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to learn like everybody else.”

  “We know,” says Randy. “And we promise that, once you turn, you’ll be included on the action. But until then, we have to keep you safe.”

  There’s really no reason to argue with them. It’s always the same damn thing—protecting me from harm. I feel like I’ve lived with a family of superheroes for the past six months rather than werewolves. Maybe I should buy them long, red capes for their birthdays.

  “We’ll see,” I say. Right now is normally the time when I do something careless, something that will garner attention so they have no choice but to explain withheld facts. This time, though, I’m going to let the events unfold independently. My lips will be sealed like a good little girl, and I’ll overcome this experience. When the timing is right, when they slip and fall onto their puddle of secrets and lies, I’ll know all.

  You just wait, dear family.

  I turn on my heel and march upstairs. Mom assesses me when I stroll into the kitchen.

  “Everything all right?” she asks, skeptical.

  “I’m fine. Why?” I try to add that air of indifference to my words, but I’m not quite sure it worked.

  She shrugs. “You looked perplexed, is all.” She hesitates, taking a deep breath and releasing it when she speaks. “Candra, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  I cut my eyes at her, glaring for what feels like hours. “Please, Mom. There are bigger things to discuss right now than a chair.”

  “Okay. You’re upset. That’s understandable.” She slides off the barstool and nears me. Still not close enough to touch me, though. “Whatever it is you want to get off your chest, go ahead. I’ll listen.”

  Thinking about my master plan, I decide it’s best to remain hushed. “Rain check? I need to call Jana and Blake, find out when they’ll be joining us.”

  Defeated, she forges a smile and nods.

  I’m finally allowed the silence—seclusion—I’ve needed for some time as I close my bedroom door behind me. For too long I’ve been under a watchful eye by everyone I know. I miss working at Livia’s. I miss school. I miss feeling normal. Now my life consists of being shuttled from one house to the next, always with someone, never alone. Sometimes a person just needs their privacy.

  I don’t bother flipping the light switch. The black curtains hanging over my window conceal most, but not all, light from entering the room—great for sleeping in, by the way—so I fumble for the familiar bed post and edge of the mattress. The digital clock on the nightstand glows blue, and tells me the time is 4:02 p.m. I hurl myself forward, twisting my body to face the bedroom door, ready to sleep until Jana and Blake arrive. Remembering I never told Beth they’re eating dinner with us, I smack my head.

  My concern is abruptly cut short, though. There’s intense warmth radiating from behind me, as if a space heater has been placed on the other side of my bed. I know that feeling. There are two options: make a run for the door or wait, motionless. Neither sounds like a winning situation.

  Bolt for it!

  Before I can reach the edge of the bed, one muscled arm loops around my waist while the other covers my mouth, muffling my screams. Whoever he is, his breath is sultry against my ear, sending unpleasant sensations up and down my body. I close my eyes. This cannot be happening right now. My family will freak knowing
their hard work has been for nothing.

  This leaves me no choice but to fight back. I kick at his shins, but he locks one of his sculpted legs over both of mine, holding me in place. I try screaming, but he rearranges his arms so that the one holding my waist covers my mouth and the other slides up my body, to my neck, choking away my panicky cries. Gasping for air doesn’t make this easier; it only makes me more terrified. Claustrophobic, even.

  His breath launches itself against my ear again, and I voluntarily tremble under his hold. A low growl escapes his lips. “Why did you fight Ali?” he asks, only for my ears.

  I should’ve guessed it was him, but in a time like this I can’t ever be sure.

  He relaxes his grip a little, dropping his hand from my mouth. “No screaming,” he says, “or I’ll gladly restrain you.”

  “Why are you here? Don’t you know how dangerous this is?”

  Again, he demands that I answer him. “Tell me why you and Ali fought.”

  I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see my face. “Ali started it.”

  “Candra . . .” He snarls my name like he can’t stand the taste of it in his mouth. “Either tell me or I’ll draw it out of you . . . slowly.”

  I won’t put it past him. I answer, “She asked why you spent time with me, what we were doing. I couldn’t help myself, so I told her.”

  “And that still didn’t get you anywhere,” he states indifferently.

  I sigh. “No, but I got a few hits in before I went down.”

  He untangles our legs and arms, and stretches out, bending his arm at the elbow and resting his head on that hand. “So, you two fought over me?”

  I sit up and turn around, facing him. “Don’t be cocky, Benjamin Conway. That’s annoying.”

  “Too bad I’m not trying to impress you; otherwise, I’d keep that in mind.”

  Ouch. “I’ll tell you what I told Jana—it has nothing to do with you. It’s between Ali and me.”

  With too much of a ‘tude, he asks, “And what did Jana say?”

  I swear, sometimes he knows. Regrettably, I respond, “She said it’d always be about you.”

  My eyes have adjusted enough to the dimness to see his muted features. His smile widens, making my stomach swim in numerous directions. Damn him! I was perfectly fine until he showed up.

  “Like I said: you two fought over me. I knew you liked me, Candra, but I didn’t realize you liked me enough to fight another girl.”

  Deflated, feeling like my body weighs a ton, I say, “She’s not just a girl, Ben—she’s your girlfriend. It’s different.” Something I never was. Something I never will be. I inhale a deep breath, determined to suck it up.

  With one hand, he cups my chin, forcing me to look at him. “And it has to stay that way, whether we like it or not.”

  “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” Then the revelation hits me. “Oh my God. You’re marked.”

  “I never marked her,” he says, sadness changing his voice. “Just you.”

  “It’s pretty obvious you two are destined to be together.”

  “Are we?” He rolls off the bed, stands, and then slowly paces across my room. “I’d be lying if I told you it doesn’t feel right being with her, but there’s still a gaping hole inside me. I don’t know what it is.” His fingers comb through his black hair, which has grown lengthy and now hangs well past his ears, almost touching the curve of his neck.

  “Well, you two have been on and off for a while. I’m sure your feelings for her will grow over time.” I want to take back the words. What am I doing, anyway, giving love advice to my arch rival?

  “Yeah. Sure.” He doesn’t sound convinced. Good.

  Another revelation hits me far too late. “How did you get in? We’ve had this place, and others, on lockdown ever since my stint with Ethan on Halloween.”

  “I used my power,” he says casually.

  “And what is your power?”

  “I can bend time.”

  “Bend?”

  “Yeah, manipulate it at will. So, it was quite easy to walk through your front door.”

  Well, that’s unnerving. While Mrs. Rendall can heal, Ben can stop time. Stop time! They definitely have the advantage on us.

  “Surprised?” he asks, shaking my thoughts.

  “Uh, yeah. A little. Does that mean you can spy? Freeze us in place and snoop around?”

  “I can . . .” When my eyelids stretch wide open, he quickly adds, “But I don’t. I’m not like my brothers, who would use this power against you.”

  I suppress a snort. “Yeah, right. Eventually, you will.”

  “No I won’t,” he says, matter-of-factly.

  Whatever. They’ll all use their powers against us, including Ben. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t have problems with magic being performed by Followers. He just can’t confess to anything . . . yet.

  “So, what else is going on? Why are there so many more cults around town?”

  Deviously, he laughs. “You know I can’t give you that information.”

  “Of course you can. Pleeeease?” I beg, but it does no good. Ben stands firm against our cause, reminding me that even though we’re not trying to kill each other right now, we might be forced to face one another in the near future.

  “Won’t do it. Sorry, Princess.”

  “You never answered me, you know,” I remind him.

  “About what?”

  “Why you’re here. You didn’t need to hear it from my lips that I lost to Ali in a blood bath. So, what’s the real reason?”

  He shrugs. “Had to find out what it was really about.”

  “You don’t trust her information?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  I smirk. “How interesting.”

  “Shut up. Don’t get any ideas.” His footsteps approach the window. He tears apart the curtains, splaying light across the room.

  I shield my eyes, groaning. “What’d you do that for?”

  “You shouldn’t be hiding behind darkness all the time. It’s not good for you.”

  “Ha! That should be your family’s motto.”

  He wags a finger at my face, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t even.”

  Sadly, this brings back bittersweet memories. Even though he and I temporarily worked together, at least we proved the Lowell’s and Conway’s can get along. Too bad our families disagree.

  Knowing our little meeting has reached its end, I smile. “Bye, Ben.”

  He returns the smile with his own. But before he opens the door, he adds, “I still can’t believe she kicked your ass. This whole time I thought you’d murder anyone in your path. Guess I was wrong.” He shrugs.

  Just for that, he gets the nearest thing I can grab—a pillow—thrown at his face.

  The look he gives me after he catches the pillow isn’t one of silliness, though; it’s terror. Eyes wide open, jaw slack, body rigid. Fear turns into anger as he emits a low growl from deep within. His eyes smolder gold, and I have the funny feeling he might kill me. End it all right here, right now.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I slide off the edge of the bed, inching my way toward him slowly, as if he’s about to jump off the edge of a building. “Ben!” I snap my fingers a couple of times. He doesn’t move; he’s frozen in place, staring a hole through my skull.

  Shifting his eyes, he stares back and forth between the pillow and me, only responding one way: telepathically.

  Candra, what have you done?

  Ah, damn it.

  Chapter Four

  What have I done? That’s a fantastic question. Jana warned me not to relinquish anything of mine, but because he grabbed the pillow I sent it his way, we’re now marked. Holy hell.

  What do we do now? I ask.

  There’s nothing we can do. Once two people are linked together, they can’t be un-linked, explains Ben. He lost his fury; his demeanor turning into defeat. There’s nothing we can do to stop this, which means we’ll just have to liv
e with it.

  There has to be a way! I can’t listen to and see your thoughts forever. Perform some of your voodoo magic, whatever it is you Conway’s do. I hop from one leg to the other in a circle, imitating my version of putting a hex on someone.

  He groans, rubbing circles at the inner corners of his eyes. “It’s not that easy. This is an old charm, one that doesn’t have a solution.”

  “Ben, seriously, it was a mistake. It’s not like I gave you that pillow freely.”

  “From where I stood, it looked like you did.”

  I huff and cross my arms. This is so wrong. If I could retract the pillow-throwing incident, I would. Wait a second!

  “Can’t you turn back the clock and change this?”

  “I can only pause time in the present, and enter the future. I don’t deal with the past. That’s an entirely different power.” Tossing the pillow onto my bed, he adds, “And even if I could, I don’t know if I’d change anything.” He saunters toward me, gaze never leaving mine. “On second thought, I think this might’ve been the best thing that’s happened to us since you moved here.”

  I back myself against the wall, leaving me nowhere to run. “Ben . . .”

  “Candra.” Pressing his arms against the wall on either side of my head, he leans in so close I can smell him—spicy and woodsy, with a trace of mint. My eyes never leave his, even though they threaten to ogle his full lips and remember how they taste.

  “You know, if you want to kiss me, you should just do it,” he blurts.

  “Excuse me?”

  He taps his head twice. “We can’t hide from each other.”

  Oh, damn.

  “Oh, damn is right,” he says with a smile. “Now, tell me what I’m thinking.” He snakes one arm around my lower back, and with the other he wraps his fingers around my neck, forcing me to hold his gaze. He’s thinking about kissing me and how this might be a good idea after all . . . and . . . and . . .

  Whack. My hand leaves a mark on his cheek.

  “It’s not going to happen,” I hiss.

  He rubs the red splotch on his face, smiling the entire time. “Wanna bet?”