Outcast (Moonlight Wolves Book 4)

by Jasmine B. Waters

  Monica laughed again. “Elizabeth, come on,” she said. “I know why you’re worried. You think he doesn’t want you because he’s involved with his sister.”

  I stared at her in disbelief.

  “And she’s crazy,” Monica continued, apparently unruffled by my changing facial expressions. “She’s totally nuts, and we have to prove it.”

  I swallowed uncomfortably. “I…I don’t really see how that’s possible,” I said flatly. “We’re not doctors, Monica. We’re kids, just like Andrea.”

  Monica laughed. The sound sent chills down my spine. I wished I could close my eyes, cover my ears with my hands, and sing really loudly to drown her out, but I knew I couldn’t. ‘For fuck’s sake, Elizabeth, pull yourself together,’ I ordered myself. ‘She’s probably been through something really horrible and traumatic, and you’re her best friend! You should help her!’

  “Look, we don’t need to talk about me right now,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, where you went?”

  “Later,” Monica said calmly. “I wouldn’t worry about that right now.” She raised an eyebrow. “Listen, Elizabeth, I know how we can prove it.”

  I sighed. It was obvious she was dead-set on telling me … well, whatever it was that was on her mind. That wasn’t exactly unusual when it came to Monica. Sometimes, her incredible intelligence was like blinders that kept her eyes straight and narrow, focused on just one thing. Obsessing over it, even. I knew I should be glad that she was back to acting like her old self, but there was something different about her. Something off, like a piece of her personality had changed and become harder. I felt like I knew nothing about her as we sat together.

  “Okay,” I said uncertainly. “Tell me. How are we going to prove that Andrea is insane?”

  Monica chuckled. “That’s the easy part,” she said. “Andrea’s insane because she’s a reincarnated Puritan.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “What?”

  “She’s a reincarnated Puritan,” Monica said in a bossy voice. “She’s a direct descendent of this woman, Prudence Arrowsmith, who devoted her life to hunting witches and ridding the world of them.”

  I sank against the wall. “Monica …”

  “What?” Monica’s brown eyes flashed. “What is it?”

  “That …” I trailed off, biting my lip. ‘That sounds crazy,’ I finished in my head. But I knew I couldn’t say that, not to my best friend. ‘Maybe this is Monica’s way of dealing with whatever trauma she just experienced,’ I thought. Tears of worry and fright came to my eyes, and I blinked them away before she could notice.

  “It’s true,” Monica said confidently. “She’s exactly the same soul as Prudence. Why the hell do you think she hates me so much?”

  ‘Well, for one, you scared the shit out of her last year,’ I thought grimly, biting my lip. But I knew I couldn’t say that to Monica.

  “I don’t know,” I said weakly. “I guess because you’re not crazy about religion like she is.”

  “That’s part of it,” Monica said. She grinned. “But it’s also because she knows me. Our souls have known each other for a very long time, Elizabeth.”

  I stared at her in shock. Every word that came out of Monica’s mouth made her sound more and more deranged. The worst part of it was her infuriating calm, the way she sat there smiling, acting like she was giving me some kind of secret news.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “How do you know this?” My heart was racing. I wondered if I shouldn’t be recording our conversation. Monica was obviously very sick. My mind began spinning down a frantic path as I wondered what the hell I was going to do when she left. Obviously, I couldn’t call Jamie and Brian. Even if they did care, they weren’t likely to do anything. Maybe I could talk to my mom, but I had a feeling she’d just call the cops. Maybe—

  “You’re not listening,” Monica said peevishly, interrupting my thoughts. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Elizabeth, it’s really simple. We just have to get Andrea to reveal who she really is, and catch her saying it, and then she’ll probably get locked up or something. It’s that easy.”

  “I …” I trailed off. ‘Yeah, but do you even realize how you sound?’ I thought as I stared at my best friend. ‘You sound totally nuts. And by your logic, how come they wouldn’t lock you up, too?’

  “Don’t be scared, Elizabeth,” Monica said. She reached out and touched me on the shoulder. I tried not to flinch; her thin fingers were as cold as icicles.

  “I’m not really scared,” I lied. “I mean, about Andrea.”

  “I mean, don’t be afraid of her,” Monica continued. “Just because she’s made it her mission to continue the witch hunt of the old days, that doesn’t mean she knows what she’s doing.”

  I gulped. “Are you saying there are witches around here?”

  Monica shrugged.

  I bit my lip. “Monica, we’re best friends,” I said slowly, “but I’m really worried about you. Ever since you came back, you just seem so different,” I said, groping for words and feeling lamer by the second. “I just think something really bad might’ve happened, and maybe this is the way you’re choosing to deal with it.”

  Monica narrowed her eyes. “What? What are you getting at?”

  I blushed. “It’s just … you never talk like this,” I said quietly. “You’re so rational. And now you’re talking about witches and reincarnation. Monica, it’s too much. You know that stuff isn’t real. It’s never been real.”

  Monica raised her eyebrows.

  “And I’m just really worried about you,” I said quickly. “I don’t want anything to be wrong, Monica, but have you thought about maybe seeing a doctor? I could have Steven drive you if you don’t want Jamie and–”

  “Enough,” Monica said. She stood up and glared at me. “If you can’t listen to my advice, fine. But I’m just trying to help!” Her nostrils flared with anger, and she stalked toward the door, yanking it open so hard the wall creaked.

  “Monica, come on,” I said. “You don’t have to go! I’m just worried about you!”

  Monica’s eyes flashed with anger. “Forget it, Elizabeth,” she said. “I can take care of myself!”

  As she stormed out of my room, I felt powerless to stop her. I’d thought that when Monica came back, everything would be better. But now, things seemed worse than ever, and I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do to help.

  Chapter Two

  The next day, I called Steven and asked him to come over. My parents hadn’t come home yet, but I didn’t think they would care. Besides, for once, talking to Steven on the phone didn’t make me nervous. I wasn’t thinking about he and I together; I was worried about Monica.

  When Steven came over, I led him into the kitchen. “I was studying,” I said, clearing my stuff off of the table. “Can I get you anything?”

  Steven stretched. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m starving. Got anything to eat?”

  I burst out laughing.

  “What?” Steven cocked his head to the side and gave me a funny look. “What’s going on?”

  I blushed. “Nothing,” I said. After a pause, I added, “My mom just made a joke the other day about my little brother, after he ate a whole bag of clementines in one sitting. She said teenage boys are like vacuums.”

  Steven snickered. “I ate three sandwiches and two pieces of pizza at lunch,” he said. “And I’m already hungry again.”

  I rolled my eyes. Pulling open the fridge, I grabbed a container of brownies and some leftover chicken salad. When I set the boxes down on the table, Steven ripped the lid off the brownies and immediately ate four, rubbing his stomach and groaning. I felt both slightly embarrassed and intrigued – watching someone eat felt intimate and strange. Goosebumps broke out over my body, and eventually, I took a fork and picked at the chicken salad, too afraid that Steven would ask me something as soon as my mouth was full.

  “So, what’s up?” Steven belched, covering his mouth. “What did you w
anna talk about?”

  For a moment, the horrible text I’d seen on Steven’s phone came rushing back to the front of my memory. Closing my eyes, I forced it away.

  “Monica,” I said. “Ever since she got back, she’s…she’s been acting really weird, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Oh yeah?” Steven raised an eyebrow. “Like what? What did she say?”

  I blushed. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him everything, although I could practically hear Monica’s words of ‘how to win Steven for good’ echoing in my head.

  “Well, that’s the funny thing,” I said slowly, nibbling at a forkful of chicken. “It was kind of about you. Well, not you. I mean, yeah, you, but more about Andrea.”

  Steven narrowed his eyes. “Not this séance shit again,” he muttered under his breath. “God, Mom was about ready to kill Monica when that happened last year. Andrea slept with the lights on for six months after that.”

  I bit my lip. “No, not about that, exactly…” I trailed off. “She just thinks Andrea is reincarnated.”

  “What?”

  “Like, she lived another life in another time,” I explained, feeling stupider by the second.

  “That’s crazy,” Steven said. He snorted. “Everyone knows that’s bullshit.”

  “I know,” I said quickly, suddenly worried that Steven would lump me into Monica’s newfound lunacy. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  “Well, what exactly did she say? And why does she care about my sister?”

  I blushed. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “I don’t really know,” I lied. “She was just really on this bender about Andrea, and how Andrea is crazy and needs to be locked up or something.”

  Steven narrowed his eyes. “My sister definitely isn’t crazy,” he said slowly.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Yeah, of course not,” I agreed. “It’s not really about her, though. It’s Monica I’m worried about. Like, why the fuck does she care about this all of a sudden?”

  Steven sighed. “Look, I know she’s your best friend,” he said slowly, “but she’s always been kind of weird, you know? It’s probably because of her parents.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re total idiots.”

  “They’re not idiots,” I replied. “They’re just kind of unconventional.”

  “Whatever,” Steven said. “My dad says it’s basically the same thing. I mean, why the hell did people like that even choose to have a kid in the first place?”

  I frowned. This wasn’t going the way I’d thought – not at all.

  “So, is that all that’s bothering you?”

  I sighed and bit my lip. “Not really,” I said. “I mean, when I told Monica that she sounded kind of delusional, she got really mad at me and stormed out. And, oh yeah, when she first came over, she totally denied that she’d been in school.”

  “Whoa,” Steven said. He lifted a finger to his ear and spun it in circles. “She’s totally losing her mind.”

  I slumped down in my chair. “I know,” I said morosely. “I have no idea what to do. It’s not like I could talk to her parents or anyone behind her back, really. She’d be furious with me.”

  “Sometimes, being a good friend is hard,” Steven said slowly. “Monica really sounds like she needs help, Elizabeth.”

  “Yeah,” I said glumly. “I know.”

  ---

  The next day at school, Monica seemed her usual, serious self. There was no more talk of Andrea being a witch, or anything ludicrous like that. Instead of going to the cafeteria for lunch, I followed Monica to the library because she said she needed to do some research for an upcoming paper. She really seemed truly normal again, and I definitely wasn’t going to bring up our conversation from earlier in the week.

  ‘Maybe she had kind of an adjustment period,’ I thought as I settled into a chair across the table from Monica, who already had her nose plunged deep in a book about seventeenth-century Americans. ‘Maybe she felt weird about being gone, and she thought lying would distract everyone from asking what really happened.’

  “I just want you to know that I’m really glad you’re back,” I whispered, pulling a notebook out of my bag and setting it down on the table. “I missed you.”

  Monica looked up and nodded. Her glasses were at the very edge of her nose, and she looked at me over the rims, unsmiling.

  “Yeah,” Monica whispered back. “I’m glad, too.”

  There was a pause as the librarian shuffled past us, pushing a metal cart loaded with books and DVDs.

  “Have you talked to David?”

  Monica nodded. She leaned in closer. “We talked on the phone last night,” she said. She sniffed. “He might be coming up this weekend.”

  I nodded. “That could be fun,” I said. “Maybe we could all go out and get pizza or something.”

  Monica snickered quietly. “Elizabeth, you don’t have treat me with kid gloves,” she said softly. “I know you don’t like him.”

  I almost sighed out of pure relief. It felt so good to have my best friend back, especially after all of this craziness.

  “Yeah, but I don’t really know him that well yet,” I whispered. “Maybe he’s just shy and we’ll wind up being good friends.”

  I thought Monica was going to rebuff me, but she nodded seriously. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “You two are the most important people in my life right now.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad.”

  Silence fell over us as Monica started scribbling down notes in a blank book, her pen scritching and scratching across the page. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. Maybe now that things were relatively normal again, everything would be fine. I was still dying to know what had happened to my best friend while she was gone, but I was starting to realize that maybe she’d have to tell me in her own time.

  “Monica.”

  I jumped and spun around to see Andrea standing there, holding a leather-bound book and hugging it to her chest. She looked even younger than normal; her cheeks were as round as a chipmunk’s, and her eyes were big and vacant.

  Monica groaned. “I’m busy right now,” she said. “Whatever this is, can it wait?”

  Andrea’s eyes flashed, and she smiled coldly. I felt a sinking feeling wash over me, and suddenly, I wished I hadn’t told Steven anything. ‘Idiot,’ I thought. ‘He probably went home and told Andrea everything! Why the heck did I have to say all of that stuff?!’

  “Monica, I’m trying to help you,” Andrea simpered sweetly. I stood up and looked around in alarm, searching for the librarian. But everyone else in the library had vanished. Monica, Andrea, and I were completely alone.

  “Well, I’m trying to do research for a paper,” Monica said. She yawned, sounding bored. “And this is a library, remember? No talking.” She smirked at Andrea.

  Andrea glared. “I’m here to bless you,” she said. She set the leather-bound book on the table, and I groaned when I realized it was a bible. Closing her eyes, Andrea lifted her hands and held them over Monica’s head.

  “I command you, unclean spirit,” Andrea said in a low voice, “to–”

  “Hey, enough!” I snapped. I leapt up from my chair and grabbed Andrea’s hands, pulling her away from Monica. “Look, we’re busy, okay?” I forced a smile. “Whatever this is, it’s not a good idea right now.”

  “Oh, please,” Andrea said. She rolled her eyes and yanked her hand free with surprising strength. “Elizabeth, you’re just as wicked as Monica! You should be begging me to bless you!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, god,” I said dramatically. “What does that even mean?”

  Monica was glaring at Andrea with intense hatred in her brown eyes. “Andrea, leave,” Monica said darkly. “You’re not wanted here.” She raised her eyebrows, smirking.

  “Hush, evil one!” Andrea said. She lifted her hands and closed her eyes. “I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this se
rvant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment–”

  Suddenly, Andrea’s eyes flew open, and her lips clamped together. A strange noise emerged from her mouth, almost like she was struggling to talk. Her body began to shake, and she lifted her hands to her mouth. When I realized she was trying to pull her lips open, I gasped.

  “Monica, what the fuck?” I hissed. “What the hell is going on?”

  Monica didn’t reply. She sat stiff and tall, staring at Andrea. Her brown eyes were lit with intensity, almost like a light was shining through them. She jerked her head to the side, and I gasped as Andrea’s body was flung through the air like a rag doll. Andrea finally cried out, gasping and screaming as she slammed into the painted cinderblock wall. A sickening crack filled the air, and then Andrea crumpled to the ground.

  “Oh, my god!” I ran to Andrea’s prone figure and knelt down. Her eyes were glassy slits, and she was moaning through her mouth. I put my hand to her forehead. She felt cold and clammy.

  “My leg,” Andrea whimpered. Tears came to her eyes, and she blinked, spilling them down her chubby cheeks. “It hurts!”

  A wave of fear struck my heart as I looked down at Andrea’s limp body. Her left leg was sticking out at an odd angle.

  “Monica!” I yelled. “You’d better call 9-1-1!”

  But when I glanced around, Monica was leaning over her book, once again absorbed in taking notes.

  Chapter Three

  I was nervous as I sat in the waiting room of Manchester General Hospital, waiting for news – any news – on Andrea’s condition. After she’d fallen, everything seemed to happen in a blur. I grabbed my cell phone and ran out of the school, trying to get reception. But by the time I got on the phone with a 9-1-1 operator, the police had already been called. Soon, the school was swarmed with cop cars, ambulances, even a fire truck with the siren blaring.

  Monica had refused to come with me to the hospital. “I have to get home and start writing this,” she’d said, sniffing and holding her chin high in the air. “I missed a lot of work when I wasn’t in school, and it’s not like I can let my grades slip.”