Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  Their grim faces agree with me.

  ~*~

  Five minutes until midnight. Six minutes until the transformation begins and my entire future changes, along with my body.

  “Let’s get you strapped in, kiddo,” says Dad.

  I reluctantly drop myself into the seat, arms resting inside the metal clasps, which are bolted in place. Dad snaps the wrist guards, locking them shut. Taking a deep breath, I resign to staying calm. Freaking out won’t help my situation. I have no choice but to go through with this. It’s who I am, who I’m meant to be.

  I have to help my family. They need me.

  “Three minutes,” Beth whispers to Mom, like I can’t hear her when she’s standing less than eight feet away.

  “All we can do is wait,” Mom replies in a tone as hushed as Beth’s.

  “I can hear you guys,” I say. “You’re only dragging this out. Three minutes feel like three hours.”

  Beth seems concerned. Does this bring back memories of those she knew who died? I’d hate to be the third name on that list.

  “Two minutes,” adds Blake.

  I give him the Jee, thanks look. He shrugs.

  “Is everything in place now?” Jana asks. “If she breaks loose—”

  “She’s not going to,” Randy interrupts. “We’ve made sure this is secure . . . for all our sakes.” A definitive glance passes between my family and friends, one that I can only assume means Randy and Blake literally shifted into werewolves to try out the mechanism. If the men can withstand this contraption while changed, then tonight might not play out as badly as I imagined it to.

  “Candra, remember this: you won’t know us when you transform,” says Beth. “We’ll be blood and fresh meat—food—to you. That’s what this chair is here for, to protect us from your other half.”

  God, she makes it sound like I’m a descendant of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Two halves? I thought my mind will work as one.

  “You guys said I’ll know. You told me I’d be coherent after this,” I say, now panicked.

  Mom purses her lips. “That’s correct: after tonight. During this adjustment, your body isn’t used to these new modifications, and you won’t be you.”

  Oh God Oh God Oh God. I didn’t think they literally meant the next day.

  We’re seconds away from finding out my fate. Seconds away from my becoming forever altered. Seconds from—

  A long, drawn-out shiver spreads the length of my body, from toes to head. There’s no turning back. This isn’t like driving halfway to your destination and realizing you forgot something at home, able to turn the car around. No, this is light years apart in difference.

  Blood leaks from my nose, tickling my upper lip, cascading over my mouth, and then dripping from my chin to the fabric of my jeans. My feet are stretched, the bones elongated, ready to shatter at any second. The distance between my toes rapidly increases as they spread apart; there’s no time for my body to catch up. My hands follow suit; I have no choice but to spread out my fingers, which are cramped. Mentally, I’m telling myself to shut up, that this will all be over soon. Physically, my body is fighting back at this unknown assailant.

  Pain doesn’t even begin to describe the ache ripping through me. I would rather gouge my eyeballs out with toothpicks than go through with this. Nausea rolls over and over again in my stomach like a giant tidal wave. Oh God, I’m going to puke. I’m going to puke. I’m going to PUKE. This sick sensation is keeping my mind off my bones cracking and popping in places I didn’t imagine they could. But I no more think that when the agony of this transition reaches my brain, screaming this is all wrong.

  “Make it STOOOP!” I cry out, knowing nobody will help me. I’m in this alone.

  I grit my teeth as my family stands back and watches, unable to help. Mom and Beth’s hands cover their mouths, Jana cries while Blake holds her close, and Randy and Dad stand aside in case something goes horribly wrong, which is still a possibility. There’s a sudden pinch in my eyes as they well with tears, dripping down my cheeks in the same direction as the blood from my nose.

  Their figures blur into mere shapes separated only by light and dark. The overhead fluorescents burn my retinas, adding to my discomfort. My left leg twitches inwardly, right leg following. Both arms contort at the elbows. One long, hair-raising scream tears up my throat and out my mouth when my shoulders dislocate themselves, my ribcage expands and breaks, and my legs bend backward at the kneecaps.

  With each new fracture of bones, shredding of muscle, and ejection of blood, I shriek. Again and again and again.

  Blinding pain . . .

  Blackness . . .

  Hold on, Candra. HOLD ON, I tell myself.

  Pop, pop, pop, pop. The fluorescent lighting overhead sounds like gunfire as it explodes.

  Then there are no faces anymore, only the dark depths of the basement, which mirror my soul. An otherworldly evil has taken over, sinking its incisors into my heart and body. Whatever this dark force is, it’s winning, taking over completely. Images of a time long ago, in a century so different from ours, flash through my mind. I can feel it boiling and bubbling, expanding to the surface of my perception.

  Now, I am someone else entirely, someone who has been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time.

  I am hungry, and there are so many live creatures nearby that I can lick the aroma of blood from the air, which overflows in this tight space. It is all I want, all I crave. There is no stopping me. Ever. So much flesh. So many bodies to feed on. I cannot see them. Why can I not see them? I smell them, though. They’re here.

  Tiny glass pieces glitter on the floor like sequins, the silver moon reflected on each shard. I stare through the small windows at ceiling level, up over the grass and through the trees, toward my old nemesis in the sky. I want to be closer, yet I fear its power over me, even after all these years.

  Voices in the corner break my trance, and I snap my head in their direction. Where are you, I want to say, but it comes out as a low, drawn-out howl. Feels good, too. Actually, it feels better than good—it is incredible. Every stress-induced burden that has infected me in the past is released. I feel so buoyant and airy. So free.

  “Candra?”

  Again my thoughts are interrupted. Murky energy courses through me. All I want right now is to rip her throat out and eat, eat, eat. In response, I emit a warning—a do-not-come-near-me-again growl. But the cautionary measure does not work.

  “Candra, it’s me Jana. You’re still chained up, but you should be through this phase by morning.”

  I do not have until morning, I think. Why am I chained up? This does not make sense. I tug and pull at the chains, grunting at the exertion it causes me. Why is this so tough?

  Help! They will not let me go! Help me! Somebody . . . Anybody . . .

  The heavens open wide and send me a fallen angel; a hallucination of the night breaks through the ground-level windows, shattering them, leaving more strewn glass in its wake.

  I’m going to get you out, a male voice says in my mind. I might otherwise be vexed by this, but his voice is a soothing calm in a violent storm. So, I overlook his angered tone and accept his offer.

  Hurry, then. I need to be freed.

  Others come through the windows. A standoff ensues in the dank dungeon these people dare keep me hostage in. Two of the newcomers are human, one of which sidesteps to me and, with magic like I have never witnessed before, unclasps my metal hold without touch.

  Run! yells my hero. Get out while we have their backs against a wall!

  These poor people . . . A tether in my belly twists, pitying them. They do not seem harmful; they actually seem pretty timid. As they shift into one of us, though, I realize I was wrong. They are willing to fight.

  “Don’t touch her!” calls one of the female humans. Curious that she does not shift like the others. Perhaps she cannot?

  I shake my head. Hold them off to give me some time.

  Of course, answers the ma
le voice. I have no idea who he is or why he aids me so, but I am eternally grateful.

  I leap off a table against the wall and catch myself on the windowpane, pulling my body up and nearly through the hole. Claws dig into my legs, jerking me back down. I scramble to find my bearings and let my vision adjust. Against the bright moon, everything is kissed by its light. But in here, away from the dreamscape, I am left with nothing but shadows.

  Fur clashes with more fur in a wild romp of breathtaking hostility. Teeth bared, both sides snap and rake at another’s throat. Yelps surmount the ruckus, and lighted bolts of magic bounce across the room. I back myself away, hoping to have a second chance at escape.

  “You had the opportunity to tell her,” says a woman on the side who rescued me. She hasn’t changed, either. “But you took too long. Now she’s ours.”

  “No!” cries the woman in the opposite region, by the stairwell. “We were going to tell her tomorrow, after she’s had her rest.”

  The werewolves have stopped their fighting. Most of the opposing side is injured—an obvious victory for the side I am on.

  “It’s too late. Candra’s been harboring a secret of her own from all of you.” This causes the entire room to shift focus, eyes on me. “Pity you wasted your time trying to keep her safe. All of it was for nothing.”

  Again with this Candra name. This is something that needs to be addressed.

  Leave now, while you can, says the voice. One of the werewolves stares directly at me, and I can only assume he is the source.

  As two of the others help me through the window and outside, I can still hear that woman in the cellar; her voice coils through the air and into the night: “Not my Candra!” In another time, I might have possessed some inkling of sorrow for this woman who has lost a dear loved one. But I cannot forgive these people for my capture.

  When all of us reach a clearing in the wood, I linger behind. The moon above shines down, illuminating my all-white fur. The one who saved me steps forward, his coat as dark as the sky, motioning with his head for the others to continue on. Humorous that his fur resembles the black heavens, and I the moon which rests upon them.

  Thank you for saving me from those people, I tell him. What is your name, wolf?

  Benjamin, but you can call me Ben.

  I will call you Benjamin, if you do not mind. Now, tell me, why am I here? And where is here exactly?

  You’re not going to believe anything I tell you, but I know someone you can trust. He says he knows you, and he has to be the one to fill you in on what’s going on.

  What? Who is he?

  Candra, listen to me—

  My name is not Candra! Why does everyone insist on calling me that?

  Because you are in Candra Lowell’s body. I know this is tough for you to accept, but there’s something I need to know before we catch up to the others, something I need to confirm. What is your name?

  If I could sigh to show how exasperated I am with this man, I would.

  My name is Daciana.

  Chapter Six

  “It’s true, all of it!” Benjamin announces as he bounds through the front door. This family has a stash of clothing buried deep in the heart of the wood near their residence, and I happily took a couple of pieces to cover myself before we arrived. “Daciana is her name!”

  “Is it now?” someone in the crowd before us asks.

  I would recognize that voice anywhere.

  “Alaric. I should have known.” I maintain an even tone, unwilling to show him any sign of my distaste.

  “So many years, Daciana. So much has changed.”

  I laugh, cold and menacing. “I doubt you have. You never will.”

  He smiles, but the mirth does not reach his eyes. “Tell me, do you know what’s happened to you?”

  “I know I’m in a girl’s body, and no one has informed me why.”

  Alaric motions for me to sit in what looks to be a sitting area. The room is dark, with little moonlight peering around the curtains. Portraits of family members, possibly previous relatives who have since passed, adorn the walls above a lengthy seat. I am wary of Alaric, but not so much the people who came to my aid. They were caring to do so. Alaric, however, always harbors alternative plans.

  When I sit, Alaric asks, “What’s the last memory you recall?”

  An easy question with an easy answer. “I remember you binding my soul, and that of Ulric’s, to an eternity in the Otherworld. There, we were to wait until the moment arises when we’d be together again, albeit in someone else’s form.” Glancing around the room, I realize any one of these men could be my Ulric. “Is he here? One of them, perhaps?”

  “He is,” affirms Alaric, “but his soul is bound to remain silent until we allow him to speak.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by this?”

  “We’ve placed a spell on him, just like we’re about to place a spell on you. Your soul fights to gain control over the body you’re in, and we can’t have that.”

  “Why not? You promised he and I would be together again.” I stand and march toward him. He never stirs from my advance. “You promised,” I hiss in his face.

  Tenderly, he pushes me away. “Daciana, please. There is no need to be angry with me. I told you both then that when the timing is right, you will be together. Unfortunately, now is not the time.”

  “I have waited an eternity already. You cannot take this away from me—from us! You invidious, bitter man! You stole our life together. What gives you the right to take it away again?”

  His eyes glow like burnt gold as he brings his face level with mine. “Because I have the power to.”

  This is a moment when I should hold my tongue, when I know nothing I say or do will change his mind, but I cannot return to the Otherworld. The place is colorless, smells of damp air . . . and I would be alone again. No Ulric, just me. Even in the afterlife I am reserved from my love.

  “What else are you withholding?” I glance back and forth between Alaric and the others. Most of them do not hold my gaze, save for one. Benjamin catches my eyes with his and does not release his grip; it is almost enough to steal my breath. “It is you,” I say to him. “You are my Ulric.”

  “Now, Daciana—”

  I cut off Alaric and move toward Benjamin. “Oh, my love. We can finally be together again. Just you and I. No more wandering through the darkness when we are together.” I throw myself at Benjamin, embracing him, caressing his face—anything to bring my Ulric to the surface in his transitory body.

  Benjamin steadily unclasps my arms from around him. “I don’t know you. I’m sorry,” he says, remorse in his eyes. “I know Candra, not you.”

  Realizing what Alaric has done to Ulric, that he is trapped in Benjamin’s body and cannot return to me, I circle around to face Alaric. Unfortunately, because he is an Ancient and much too quick for me—or anyone, really—this is a losing battle. The spell is cast before I touch him. My soul, though bound to this temporary body, is shrinking to the deepest recesses of this form, unable to take hold of anything. Her thoughts are current. Mine are just memories. And once again, I am in my own, private Hell; so close to being with my Ulric, yet we could not be further apart.

  ~*~

  Grogginess fogs my mind. My eyelids feel weighted and are slow to open. This also means I’m alive, that I made it through the transformation. This is a good thing.

  “She’s waking,” someone says.

  I smile because I made it through the night.

  “Do not touch her,” says an angry voice. I know that tone. I know him! It’s Ben.

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Like you could actually stop me.” Oh, shit—Cameron.

  I struggle with my eyes, to force them open, and to make my weak limbs work. I’m not at home; I’m at the Conway’s. Inside their living room. Lying on their couch. Most of their faces are within view, but some aren’t.

  “Well, what a surprise,” purrs Mrs. Conway now that I’m fully awake. “Glad to see y
ou’re back. I must say, you had an eventful night.”

  Bolting upright and scrambling to one corner of the couch, I put as much distance between them and me. “What am I doing here? What’s going on?”

  “You don’t remember?” Mrs. Conway asks mockingly.

  I shake my head. Of course I don’t remember; I’m not supposed to during my first transformation.

  She tsks me. “Such a shame. You missed out on all the fun.”

  I stare at Ben. “What’s she talking about?”

  Reaching for words that aren’t there, he falls on, “It’s a long story.”

  “And he’ll have plenty of time to tell you all about it,” Mrs. Conway adds in a sugared tone. “You’ll be here for a little while. Might as well make yourself feel at home.”

  “Home? Are you kidding me?” I snort. “I will never—”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” she cuts in, wagging her first finger in a tick-tock motion. “Never write off this wonderful place until you’ve gotten to know it. All I’m asking is for a chance, Candra. You and I could become great friends.”

  I laugh, having no idea why. I sound crazy. Maybe I am losing my mind. “You’re so full of shit,” I tell her. Adding, “You don’t have any friends—and brainwashing people into choosing your side doesn’t count.”

  She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it just as quickly.

  Ben steps in. “All right, listen to me,” he says, focusing on my face, my eyes . . . my lips. Don’t even go there.

  I’m just observing you observing me.

  You’re dramatizing something that we need to refrain from at the moment, Candra.

  Such a charmer!

  He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Come with me.” He tugs on my arm, but I pull back.

  I half-snort, half-laugh. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going anywhere with you, except maybe through that front door.”

  He casts a quick side glance toward his Mom, and then back at me, which would’ve been undetectable if I wasn’t paying attention. You’re the one being stupid. They’ll only make it worse for you if you resist.

  Resist what? The fact that I was kidnapped?