03 Long Night Moon - Seasons of the Moon

by SM Reine

  He sank to his brother’s side.

  “You screwed up, man,” he whispered.

  He had to have known he was changing. Why hadn’t he asked for help? Maybe Seth couldn’t have fixed him, but he could have kept him from killing people.

  But now there were eight dead bodies. Abel had ruined his life—both of their lives.

  Scott clapped a hand on Seth’s back. “You know what you have to do.”

  Unfortunately, he did.

  Sixteen

  Christmas

  Rylie awoke naked on her own doorstep.

  She sat up, brushing snow off her shoulders. The ranch was silent in the early morning hours. All the animals were in the barn or their pens, the fields were empty, and there wasn’t a car in sight.

  Where was Seth?

  She stood on trembling legs and took a sniff of the air. There was no hint of the perfume she sprayed on her clothing, so she couldn’t have changed nearby.

  Shutting her eyes, she wracked her brain for answers. There had been a dance, hadn’t there? She danced with Seth—and Abel, she recalled with some embarrassment—and spoke to Bekah. But everything was a blur after that. She had no idea when or where she changed.

  So why was she at home?

  She went inside. The floor was so warm on her icy feet that it burned. She held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she called Seth, trying to rub circulation into her extremities.

  He didn’t pick up. “This is Seth. Leave me a message.”

  “Call me back,” she said, blowing on her fingers. “Or even better, come here. I don’t have my truck. What happened? Where are you?” She hesitated. She wasn’t sure if they were at that place in their relationship where she could say she loved him at the end of messages yet. “So… yeah. Bye.”

  She hung up.

  After that, she didn’t know what else to do but shower, dress, and do her chores.

  But Seth never called her back.

  Christmas in the hospital was a muted event. Holiday lights presented a fire hazard and weren’t allowed in the ward, but Rylie had brought some dusty old garland from home to hang around Gwyn’s bed. She put a couple stuffed Santas and nutcrackers on the windowsill, too. By the time she finished decorating, the room almost looked cheery.

  The floor was quiet other than the occasional visit from a nurse. Nobody bothered Rylie as she made a second trip to her truck to retrieve presents, although a few people did stop to open doors for her.

  She dropped the presents and stockings at the foot of Gwyn’s bed. “Looks great, babe,” she said with a weak smile. She was propped up with a saline drip and very pale. “You should be spending Christmas with the boys, though.”

  Rylie bit her bottom lip. Seth still hadn’t called her. The only sign he was still around was that her truck had reappeared at the ranch the night before—but he didn’t come in to say hi. “They aren’t much for the holidays.”

  Gwyn touched her hand. “Why so sad?”

  “I’m not sad. Here, look in your stocking.” She passed it to her aunt and took her own, which Gwyn had filled before her collapse. “I didn’t do much with yours. I kind of ran out of time. Sorry.”

  They didn’t speak while they picked through their stockings. Rylie’s had a little candy and a lot of lip gloss, which made her smile even though she didn’t feel up for it.

  She set everything by her feet under the chair.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Gwyn said as she studied the earrings Rylie gave her. “I’m supposed to be the one giving you a nice Christmas.”

  She shrugged. It wasn’t like Rylie was short on money. She was actually kind of rich, if she considered the value of everything her dad left when he died, but she wouldn’t have access to most of it until she was eighteen.

  Rylie would have given it all away to cure her aunt.

  You could try biting her…

  She pushed the thought back. It was way too dark for Christmas morning.

  “Did you find all the presents in my closet?” Gwyn asked. She nodded. “Good. Open the big one first.”

  The big one turned out to be a fancy tablet computer. Rylie gasped. Her aunt hated technology and refused to have gadgets in the house. The thought of Gwyn going into an electronics store was as shocking as the present itself.

  “Oh, wow! Thank you!”

  “It’ll be helpful for school. Don’t know if it’s any good. That’s what the guy at the store told me to get.”

  “It’s perfect. I love it.” Rylie leaned over to hug Gwyn. She was even frailer than she had been before going into the hospital, like days without work were making her muscles melt away. The smell of sickness hovered around her.

  All it takes is a bite.

  Rylie opened her other presents. Gwyn was nothing if not practical, so the theme seemed to be supporting her education. She even threw in a book about preparing for college. Could she really expect to go to college when she could barely control herself in high school? The thought of a werewolf in the dorms was laughable.

  But if she stayed home, and Gwyn became a werewolf, she wouldn’t need college. It would be even better. She could have a pack.

  “What if there was a cure for your disease, but it was really horrible?” Rylie asked. “Like, if there was something we could do to make you better—a lot better, and a lot stronger, too—but it meant hurting sometimes?”

  Gwyn glanced at her over the work boots. She was inspecting the soles. “Like chemotherapy for AIDS?”

  “No, not like that. Like…” She searched for a way to describe it without using the word “werewolf.”

  “There’s no point talking fantasies, babe. You mean well and all, but I’m not one for dreaming.”

  Rylie took a deep breath. “I’m not fantasizing or dreaming. Remember when I told you I’m a… you know… a werewolf?”

  Gwyn set down the boots and let out a long sigh. “Rylie…”

  “Listen to me. Please. I know you think it’s my crazy way of attracting attention because I’m depressed or whatever, but it’s not.” She paused, waiting for her aunt to protest, but Gwyn only watched her with sad eyes. It made Rylie’s heart sink. But once she started talking about it, she couldn’t stop. “Werewolves can heal almost anything. I haven’t gotten sick since I was bitten. Maybe if you became a werewolf too, you could heal the disease.”

  “Babe—”

  “It’s better than dying, isn’t it?”

  “We’ve talked about this before, Rylie,” Gwyn said.

  “You have to believe me! Watch this.”

  She seized the glass on the bedside table and smashed it into the wall. It shattered and sliced into her fingers.

  Gwyn shouted and reached for the nurse button, but Rylie grabbed her wrist with her free hand. “No! Wait!”

  She held up her bleeding fingers. The skin had been lacerated, but she barely felt it. Her whole arm trembled with heat. She let out a slow breath.

  When she wiped off the blood with a tissue, there were no injuries. Her skin was intact.

  Gwyn’s mouth hung open.

  “Look,” she whispered, turning her hand forward and backward. Her aunt dropped the nurse button and took her hand instead. Her face had gone bloodless.

  “What…?”

  Rylie gave a weak smile. “Don’t tell anyone. Just… think about it. This could save you.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Scott Whyte stepped in, holding a big bouquet of fresh flowers and an apologetic smile. “Sorry to disturb,” he said.

  “What are you—?”

  Scott offered a hand to Gwyneth. “I’m Scott Whyte, a visiting psychologist who’s worked with Rylie. I wanted to offer my wishes for your good health.”

  Gwyn’s mouth moved noiselessly. She stared at the glass on the floor. Eventually, her polite country upbringing overrode her shock, and she managed to say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He handed her the flowers and a little blue box. “I hope you don’t
mind that I brought a present.”

  She opened it. A delicate gold chain with a single diamond rested inside on a bed of cotton. “Thank you.”

  Rylie took a sniff. The flowers smelled normal, but there was a sharp metallic smell around the bracelet that wasn’t gold. It looked weird, too. He’s cast a spell on it, she realized.

  “What’s that for?” Rylie asked sharply.

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “For her good health. Didn’t I mention that?”

  So it was a healing spell or something. She was torn between gratitude and worry.

  “Very kind of you,” Gwyn said.

  “Merry Christmas, Ms. Gresham.” He turned. “Can we talk outside, Rylie?”

  She had been about to suggest the same thing. She kissed her aunt on top of the head before following him out the door.

  They strolled along the walkway outside the hospital, where nobody would disturb them. It was too cold. Rylie felt fine, and Scott had a thick jacket, but everyone else rushed inside to escape the snow.

  “Healing spell?” she asked.

  His eyebrows lifted. “I’m surprised you picked that up.”

  “I’m not stupid. I don’t want your weird black magic near my aunt.”

  “I promise it’s benign,” he said. “A powerful witch could heal a lot of things, but I’m not powerful, and your aunt is beyond the healing abilities of anyone on this Earth. But she’s a strong woman. All she needs is a boost to get back on her feet.”

  Rylie rolled her thoughts over on her tongue, considering what to say. There were so many answers she wanted to demand from him. But she started with the obvious one.

  “Have you heard from Seth and Abel?”

  “I have,” he said gravely. “They’re resting.”

  Then why hadn’t Seth called her? She folded her arms tight across her chest. “Is Abel…?”

  Scott nodded. “Yes. He’s the killer.”

  Rylie felt sick. “But… Levi told me that we’re all killers. Why would he say that if he’s not the one eating people?”

  “My kids have had a tough time. Their family couldn’t handle them once they got bitten—which was a total accident, by the way. Just a madman who came across them one night.”

  “How did you find them?”

  “They were institutionalized. Even amongst mundane people, I have a reputation for specializing in teens with particular ‘delusions,’ so I was called in to treat them. But they were gone by the time I arrived. They killed two orderlies, another patient, and a security guard to escape.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “So they’re even worse than me,” she said.

  “No—none of you are bad. We have to put your experience in context: you’re sharing a body with a wild animal that was born in the dark times before human civilization. You were never meant to live in houses, attend school, or be locked in cages. If you roamed in a world empty of cities, you would be a normal part of nature. You would be safe.”

  “Safe from what, exactly?”

  “Yourselves.” Scott gazed out at the snowy landscape, brow furrowing with thought. “The investigation into the murders didn’t implicate Bekah and Levi. Witnesses saw two wolves attacking, so they assumed the kids took the opportunity to escape. When I found them, I made the same offer to them I’m making to you now—to help them heal. So they came to live with me.”

  “I don’t need to be adopted,” Rylie said.

  “No. You don’t,” he said.

  “My aunt needs me.”

  “Have you considered that she might heal better without having to worry about you?”

  Stung, she kicked a clump of snow over the bridge onto the sidewalk below. “We’ll be fine.”

  Scott nodded. “Abel felt the same when I gave him this offer, too. They thought it would be better to handle it alone, which is why they’re leaving, but you don’t have to—”

  She wheeled around to face him, feeling as though she had been slapped. “Wait! They’re leaving? What did you say to them?”

  “Nothing. This was Seth’s decision.”

  Suddenly, nothing else seemed important. Not Christmas, not her aunt, not the idea of going to live with a bunch of witches.

  Scott had to be wrong. Seth wouldn’t leave her.

  Would he?

  Seventeen

  Goodbyes

  The Chevelle wasn’t outside when Rylie got to Seth and Abel’s apartment. Icy fingers of fear clenched in her chest.

  Had she missed them?

  She pushed into the apartment. The first thing she noticed was that all the research had been stripped from the walls. Then she noticed that the futons had been stacked on top of each other and shoved in a corner. Everything else was separated into two piles. One was next to two big backpacks, and the other was going into black trash bags.

  Seth stood in the middle of it all, looking through one of his school binders.

  “Thank God,” she said, moving to hug him. His expression stopped her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Scott Whyte told me you guys were gone. I knew that wasn’t right, because…” She trailed off. They weren’t ransacking their apartment for fun. When she spoke again, her voice was tiny. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  Seth’s furrowed brow was answer enough on its own. “Rylie…”

  “But you can’t go! What about graduation? What about college?”

  His face crumpled with pain.

  “Some things are more important than that.”

  “You guys are overreacting,” Rylie said. “This is—this is stupid! I mean, yeah, so Abel’s made some mistakes, but who cares? He can learn to control himself.”

  “He’s killed people.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath. Rylie knew Abel was capable of that kind of violence. She wouldn’t deny it. But Seth wouldn’t let his brother deal with it alone.

  “So you’re going away to… what? What will you guys get by running away that you can’t have here?”

  “Your safety,” Seth said. “Abel could hurt you. And the pattern of killings will attract other hunters. My mom could come back.”

  Ugly visions swam through her head. Eleanor had hunted Rylie, attacked her, and tried to murder her. She tied Rylie to the back of her motorcycle and dragged her through the dirt and then fed her poisoned meat to make her crazy.

  But now she imagined Eleanor doing those things to Abel, too. Beating him. Tying him up. Pumping him full of silver.

  “We’ll be safer if we’re all together,” Rylie said.

  He stroked her cheek, eyes pleading. “Think about it. As long as Abel is out of control here, there will be policemen and hunters. They could get him, too. And what if they don’t? Abel could kill one of your friends. He could kill Gwyn.”

  She shook her head, again and again, like denying it hard enough would make it stop. “He loves Gwyn. He would never do that.”

  “You don’t understand. You’re different, Rylie. Most werewolves aren’t like you.”

  “But I bit him. I made him like this,” she whispered.

  “Don’t blame yourself. Hey, look at me, Rylie. You can’t blame yourself for this. Biting him was self-defense. It’s a risk we take when we hunt werewolves.”

  And suddenly, those horrible images Rylie had of Abel being tortured by Eleanor were replaced with the thought of Seth getting bitten instead. He was perfect in every way she wasn’t. He was strong and noble, like a modern knight crusading against the werewolf threat. Getting bitten would violate him. He would be ruined. It was too awful for her to imagine.

  Her chin trembled. “I don’t want you to go.”

  Seth responded by wrapping his arms around her, and she clung to his shirt, burying her face in his chest. He was so warm and safe, and he smelled so comforting.

  She might never get to smell him again, or be held by him again. Fear ached in her chest.

  Rylie grabbed his neck and dragged him down to her level, pressing
her lips to his. She kissed him with everything inside of herself, putting every moment they had shared together into it—their struggles at summer camp when she was bitten, the fight against his family, all the times he had looked after her and protected her when she changed.

  And Seth kissed her back just as hard. His hands dug into her elbows, pinning her arms to her sides, capturing her in his grip. It hurt. It felt good. Feelings swam through her, confused and disjointed. Her heart was too broken to beat.

  “Don’t stop,” Rylie said when Seth started to step back.

  So he didn’t.

  Rylie had been putting off having sex for weeks. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. She did—really bad, actually, way worse than she ever wanted anything ever before. But there was always a reason not to do it. They were never alone at the ranch. Abel was usually at Seth’s apartment. And when they really did get time to themselves, it was usually because Rylie was about to turn into a giant, murderous dog. Not exactly sexy.

  But now they were alone without anyone to stop them, and she might never see him again.

  Passion blazed inside of her like a wildfire, and once it began burning, it wouldn’t stop. She wrapped her arms around his neck, locking his lips to hers, and his hands burned hot paths up her back underneath her shirt along her ribcage. His fingers raked along the back of her and skimmed over the bra.

  His other hand cupped her breast through her bra. Rylie’s breath caught in her throat, and she pulled back a little to look at him. His eyes were filled with heat. It was a little scary.

  “Seth—”

  He kissed her again, and any thoughts of suggesting that they should slow down vanished from her mind. Every nerve in her body was on fire. He shoved her back until her calves hit the edge of the futons. Rylie lost her balance and fell, dragging Seth down on top of her.

  They hit the floor, and she didn’t care about how heavy he was or how much their apartment smelled like silver.

  She was lost in him, and she never wanted to be found.

  He sat back on his knees long enough to strip off his shirt. He was broad and muscled, with faint scars on his ribs. Sweat made him glisten.

  Delicious.