Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  “Where?” Randy’s level question is edged with threat.

  “Out back.” Blake lays Jana on the couch now that everyone is standing. They all dash to the rear door, peering at the smoking flora.

  Mr. Rendall turns around to face us, looking meditative. “Why didn’t you send for us? It’s not like we were miles away.”

  Blake covers Jana with a throw. “Because we wanted to prove that we can do this on our own, that we don’t need you guys to watch us twenty-four seven. We’re not babies.”

  “Ohh, Blake,” murmurs Mrs. Rendall. She approaches him, and then cups his face. “We’ve never thought of you as incapable of fending them off; we know you can. It’s a matter of lives being at stake. If something happened to you, Jana’s heart wouldn’t be the only one broken.” She pulls his head down and plants a light kiss on his forehead. “We love you as though you were our son.”

  “Tell us everything,” Mr. Rendall says. “Don’t hold back any details.”

  So, Blake does just that. He explains the sway in the air, the violent storm approaching, my gut feeling, and how he and Jana knew they were on their way. His ice, her fire. How the Followers are nothing more than ashes now, swept off with the wind.

  “We need to be on guard,” warns Dad, pointing his finger and directing it to whomever he speaks to. “They’ll return with back-up, if they haven’t already, and this time it’s going to take all of us.”

  “Problem.” I hold up my hand and drop it just as promptly. “I can’t shift, and I don’t have a power, so what do you want me to do?”

  “Stay inside,” he replies. When I open my mouth to dispute, he gives me The Look, the stern one. The one that says I won’t win this mini battle between us.

  “Indoors it is,” I mumble. Yeah, right.

  They all congregate at the dining table to discuss the next plan of action, and so they won’t disturb Jana. I stand aside, listening to the conversation and wishing, once again, there’s something I can do to help. Arghhh. If Daci will cooperate, I can be out there, fighting alongside them. But as it stands, I’m totally screwed.

  Stepping onto the foyer and away from the commotion near the kitchen, I have my own conversation with the Ancient inside me. C’mon, Daciana. They need me right now. We’re severely outnumbered.

  Give me a superior reason, and I will allow it, she answers.

  How is this not a good enough reason? You know, I shouldn’t be asking for your permission to shift; it’s my body.

  No, you should not. But it is my decision nonetheless. This is the consequence of holding my soul hostage.

  My hands squeeze into fists at my side. Look, do you want to be with Ulric? If you keep me from helping my family and friends, you will never see him again. Are we clear?

  A tense silence sandwiches itself amongst us. I hate using a mean and haughty tone with her, but something’s got to give. Either she’s with me, or against me. There is no in-between.

  Have it your way, Candra.

  YES! Victory! As much as I’d love to stand on the roof and shout to the world that I can transform into a werewolf freely, it doesn’t matter. Right now, we have thornier problems.

  I barrel into the kitchen. “I can do it! I can help! She’ll allow me to transform.”

  Beth’s the first to speak. “That’s great, dear. Maybe we should test it out first?”

  It’s then I see the skeptical expression in their eyes. They don’t believe a word I tell them, which sucks, because I’ve reserved a list of useful ideas in my head. And since this takes too much convincing, I might as well prove myself.

  “Let’s go outside,” I say, “to see if she’s telling the truth, or if she’s lying.”

  They follow me around the side of the house, back into the open lot. At first, they want to check the outskirts, for protection purposes, but I’m too giddy to wait. It’s been days since my last conversion, and my body is plummeting into a state of despair because it can’t chase its impulses.

  I bend at the waist, the familiar sensation coiling within and allowing me to shift. My white fur, my long snout and black nose, my lethal claws and fangs—I missed all of it! I missed being me. Now, I won’t be sidelined for another fight; I can offer support.

  Beth sighs. “All right, Candra. You’re on patrol. Scout the areas nearby, stealthily, and then return with your findings. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you. Consider this your first test.” She pats my wooly head, and I bolt into the forest, like the lightning flashing on the horizon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Plop.

  The squall leisurely progresses across the sky and each pelt of raindrops are followed by another. Overhead, the clouds darken the further they travel. I need to hurry this mission; otherwise, I’ll be soaked within the hour.

  Plop. Plop. Plop.

  I’ve investigated much of the woodland behind our neighborhood, but found nothing. No Followers hiding in trees or bushes, no Conway’s doling out magical powers, no Ben. It’s as if the Followers we saw earlier decided they’d attack on their own free will, like the Conway’s had nothing to do with it.

  Weird.

  Even weirder is the fact that I can’t smell a damn thing. I mean, it’s just the usual—trees, wildflowers, dirt, animals. No werewolves. They have a distinct odor, the Followers; a mixture of sweet pollen and damp fur and . . . magic. They reek of magic.

  Wow. I really am losing my mind out here.

  A bush to my left rustles. I freeze, assessing whether I should run back to Randy and Beth’s, or whether I should wait it out, to see if it’s just my imagination. Another bush stirs to my right and slightly behind me, and then a twig and some leaves crunch deeper in the wooded area. Ever so slowly, I back up; one paw at a time. Straight ahead, yellow eyes materialize, followed by another set, and another. What’s going on? Why can’t I smell them? Unless they’ve physically covered their tracks, this shouldn’t be possible.

  They used magic. Has to be it.

  I should’ve known they’d planned this. The first batch of Followers was just an experiment, a strategy to rile us. When no Followers returned for round two, the Conway’s knew my family would send out a patrol. Little did they realize that patrol would be me.

  So, now I’m cornered. Well, sort of. If I can weasel my way out of this spot, I’ll run for my life. I scan the minds of my family, and the Watchers. My family hovers over Jana, shoveling food into her mouth so she’ll eat and regain her strength. The closest Watchers, other than Jana, her parents, and Blake, aren’t nearby. Bad timing. Really, really bad timing. Oh, I hate to do this.

  We’ve got company, guys.

  Where? asks Dad.

  Um, see, that’s the thing. I don’t know where exactly. I’m attempting to slip out, but they’re too close.

  Candra, get out of there! Now! Beth yells.

  Trying, I say. Continuously stepping backward, I notice more atop a nearby hill . . . and more . . . and then their cousins and best friends and significant others and possibly even some kids. They’re oozing from the woodwork! You guys better call all Watchers, immediately.

  What’s wrong? Mrs. Rendall questions me this time.

  I’m calling a Code Red, or Blue, or Green, or Black. Never mind . . . I’m calling all fucking codes. My limbs react to the somersaults my stomach performs; the more Followers I see, the more I realize how shaky I am.

  Calling them now, says Beth.

  I’ll meet you, Cee, Blake declares. Give me two seconds to be there.

  No! I blurt. No impulsive movement until everyone is lined up and ready for combat. I’m not joking, guys. This is serious business. Oh, and I’d move Jana someplace safe, like the back room of the basement.

  No way. I’m fighting, Jana responds. I just needed something to eat.

  Now isn’t the time to argue with anyone. I need to keep my head clear so I can focus on fleeing the area, and preserving my life. When I’ve reversed myself enough, I whip around and dart. Several hundred fe
et clobber the forest floor behind me.

  I’m on the move, I tell the others.

  And where are they? asks Beth.

  On my heels.

  Help is on the way, Candra. Whatever you do, don’t stop.

  Eh. Easier said than done. What if I trip and shatter a tendon or bone? I won’t be able to continue then. I shake my head. There’s no use thinking like that; I need positive vibes right now. As I pick up speed, they synchronize their steps to mine. I wish at least half of them would wear out and stop the chase, but I can keep dreaming.

  The forest seems endless; it doesn’t matter how many trees I pass, they never cease. With out knowing where I am, or where I’m headed, I might be running into a trap. At least it won’t be the first time today. Maybe I’ll actually be prepared for the next.

  Hang on, Candra.

  Wait for us, Candra.

  We’re almost there, Candra.

  A choir of anonymous voices, who I presume are Watchers I’ve never met, echo against the inside of my skull. Other than vigorously sprinting, I can’t do much of anything except hang on and hope this ends well for me, for all of us. And it seems I won’t have to wait long—a strong defensive line emerges from my left. So strong, in fact, that I’m dazed by how many there are. My new Follower BFFs behind me are in for one rude awak—

  Thump, thump, thump, thuuuuuuuuump.

  The whacks, smacks, and splats continue until there are so many of the same sound they all resonate as one. I don’t dare stop, not when I’ve come this far. Peeking back over my shoulder, I realize I’m no longer being pursued; the Followers have turned their attention to the Watchers, who made a hefty dimple in the mass of opponents. Though I should hang back and fight, I need to press on. My family will be waiting for me.

  They’re here, and just in time, I advise.

  We know; we’ve been watching, Beth says. Stay put, Candra. Find a place to hide. We’re on our way.

  Hide? Stay put? If they want to protect me, this isn’t the way to do it. There’s a nagging spasm in the back of my head, and it refuses to leave me in peace. It takes only a moment to process what, exactly, that annoying sensation is. I circle around, facing the massive encounter. No great warrior ever sat on the side, watching his comrades fight for him, watching his comrades die for him. So, why would I step aside and let the Watchers do the same for me?

  Ahead, one Follower catches my attention. Out of the numerous hundreds before me, he grabs hold of my ethics and won’t let go. I scrutinize the way he snubs fighting alone; he helps his fellow pack members take down Watchers, two against one. A damn coward is what he is. Just wait until I get a hold of him.

  I move forward; unhurried at first, then faster and faster, until I slam into into his side, ousting not only him but also a few others. The sudden jolt sends him skittering for solid ground as he cries out from the scare. I savor his fear, which causes my mouth to salivate. What would he taste like? Just one bite—no, not even that—one nibble and I’ll be sated. My inner beast is ravenous.

  He stands, shaking off fright, and blood from those he’s already disposed of. Head lowered, his lips draw tight, presenting sharp teeth. The blame is intended for me, and I snarl guiltily. He moves, I move. We meet in the middle, amid the turmoil surrounding us. At the last minute, I jump over his head and clamp down above his neck, where he can’t turn and reach me. A thunderous cry rings out from his throat, but our friends don’t seem to notice; they’re preoccupied with each other.

  Hurling me off his body, he’s more agile in snapping to attention than I am, even when injured. He also doesn’t show reluctance on whether he’ll be returning any favors; the moment I get into position is the moment he chooses to fling me several more yards. I land on my shoulder, which fractures upon impact. I cry out in pain.

  As he leaps through the air, aiming to jump on me, he’s taken out of flight by Blake, who has now arrived with the others. They wrestle, rolling over each other, snapping and gnawing. Blake lands a mark on the Follower’s side, ripping away at his flesh. The Follower jerks back as a reflex, triggering Blake to shred extra skin and fur. Then, with one final blow, Blake plunges his incisors into the Follower’s neck and tears his head clean off.

  Blake turns around, facing me. You okay?

  Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll heal soon, so no worries.

  The rest of our pack has formed a protective circle around me.

  I thought I said to hide somewhere? Beth’s clipped tone angers me.

  I’m not hiding from anyone anymore, I say. I think it’s time we face our own battles. We can stop with the secrets and lies, and face the truth, even if it hurts. On that note, Ben and I are marked.

  All of Kodak’s marketing for priceless moments pays off when I see their expressions. If only I had a camera available . . .

  What? Why didn’t you tell us? Mom asks.

  Because on a grand scale of one to ten, this is on the low end of things that matter.

  Jana steps forward, scowling. I told you what would happen if you two were marked. How could you have done this?

  I didn’t mean to! It was an honest accident.

  For how long? Blake’s voice is as tight as Beth’s.

  It happened before my birthday. Ben kissed me and forced me to kiss him, to start the process. But when we were joking around, I threw my pillow, he caught it, and now the rest is history. Simple mistake.

  Simple? SIMPLE? Jana overreacts. There’s nothing simple about this, Candra. They can now see what our next plan of action will be.

  No, I retort. Ben hasn’t used me for that. He hasn’t used the gift except to explain how to escape their basement. He told me about the secret passageway out, and how I needed to wait a few days to make it look like I found it on my own. Other than that, we keep the conversations to a minimum.

  And what does he say now? asks Blake. Useless information? Or how he can’t wait to see you again?

  Neither. They’ve silenced him.

  Feels like a minor weight is buoyed from our tight circle.

  It’s still wrong, argues Blake, no matter what anyone says.

  So, you and Jana can be marked, but I can’t? How’s that? Just because he has Conway attached to his name doesn’t make him as bad as they are.

  Whatever, Cee. I think you’ve slipped-up this time.

  And what was he doing your room? Jana questions.

  Don’t worry about it, I snap, because really, it’s none of their business. I thought the courtesy of informing them of my secret was the right thing to do, but now it seems wrong. I turn my attention back to what’s at stake here, what truly matters, not some dumb tiff between family and friends.

  The battle-wounded stragglers unite for one final assault. Many more lay injured or dead on the forest floor. I step through my family’s tight-knit ring and meander to where my allies stand. Nodding to them, we face our foes situated together on the opposite side. The scene reminds me of soldiers lined up during the Civil War, shoulder to shoulder, until the very end.

  My family and friends amble to where I am, a bit reluctant in joining the conflict. They need to learn that we’re in this together, that no matter what, we have to fight for each other. We lost a lot of people today, people willing to die for our cause.

  Don’t let them die in vain, I advise the others a second before I charge. A gust of wind lifts a new aroma to my nose . . . clammy fur and shadowy magic. The Followers we’re fighting now weren’t scented, which means extras are on their way, and close by. Will this never end? Seriously.

  I glance at those by my side before we impact with our enemies; their faces all carry the same confused look.

  There are more approaching, I say, to be blunt. It’s pointless to lie.

  Dodging trees, roots, and bushes, we collide with the last of the previous group. In my mind, I zip across the wavelength my pack and I share, always knowing where and what’s happening to one another. Everyone is tied up with an opponent.

  Jana says,
We have to hurry, you guys. It won’t be long before they get here.

  One down. Two, three, five, nine. They drop like pins in a bowling match.

  Finally, when we’ve had a minute to catch our breath, the scent of new Followers becomes stronger. I don’t know about the others, but I haven’t seen one yet. I just hope this isn’t another trap, one that has us secluded in the middle of the woods.

  Follow me, says Beth. Quietly, now. I know a place better suited for combat.

  We trail Beth until she stops at the edge of the woods, where a clearing lies before us. It’s wide, and long, perfect for viewing all sides of the forest. The grass is a little overgrown, but not so much that someone might hide and ambush.

  I like this place, I say. Never knew it existed.

  That’s because it’s too far from home, Beth responds.

  Above, the clouds split open, followed by a crack of lightning and a grumble of thunder. We settle down as the rain drenches our coats. Then, as if we’ve planned this for months, we all noiselessly sit so our backs are aligned to the middle of the circle and our faces are watching every inch around us. I admit it’s hard to see through heavy wind and rain, especially with trees obstructing the view, but this beats being apart so we can get picked off one by one.

  Ten to fifteen minutes pass calmly, and then the Followers appear from the north, one at a time. They hesitate at the first row of trees, curious if we’ve set a trap for them, or maybe waiting for a signal. It’s not long before they’re howling, snarling, ready to dart.

  Lightning flashes brightly as it claims a tree, splitting the top. As its crown falls, the tree groans. The opposing side seizes the distraction to begin their attack; the primary defense of the Followers sprints toward us, and then breaks into a full run.

  On your mark, taunts Jana.

  Get set, Blake adds.

  We brace ourselves instead of meeting them head-on. Developing a row, we remain strong, preparing for the first wave. They attack at full force. So much so, in fact, they knock us off our feet. There are too many of them. With what little Watchers we have left, we won’t survive past the third wave.