Moon Shadows

by Neena Jaydon

  "I'm sorry," Max said. "I saw the cracked window and the front door was open and I just, uh—just came in. Are you okay?" Theo's glistening skin looked dull and pale.

  "Just the flu," Theo mumbled, leaning his forearm against the wall. The housecoat revealed his collarbone and the top planes of his chest, but Max didn't enjoy this as much as he normally would. He cast about, rudderless.

  "Are you sure? You look like death warmed over."

  "I'm fine. What're you doing here?"

  Gee, he really looks happy to see me. "I just wanted to apologize… Since when have you had a dog?"

  "Dog?"

  "Yeah, that big grey one." That doesn't look like a dog.

  "I don't have a dog." Theo's tone was flat.

  "What are you talking about? It was just here. It went downstairs. You had to have seen it."

  "I'd know if I had a dog. I—I want to go back to bed, and it sounds like you've got a fever or, y'know, or something too. Maybe you should go home."

  At a loss, Max stared at him. Theo glowered at the floor, impatiently wiping at his chin as sweat rolled down it.

  "I don't think I should leave you alone," Max said.

  "Just go." Theo pushed himself off the wall and returned to the staircase. "There's nothing to apologize for. Just leave me alone."

  Those words hit him unexpectedly hard, and Max didn't move right away. Then Theo began to tilt sideways. Max lunged down the stairs. He closed one hand around a wrist alarmingly warm to the touch. With his free hand, Max grabbed the banister before Theo's weight could pull him off his feet. All at once that weight was gone. Max caught the banister in the stomach.

  What the—Light flared up from below, obscuring everything. It sucked down to a rough outline, rapidly resolved into a familiar shape, then winked out.

  On the floor was the dog. The wolf. It was wrapped up in Theo's robe, one massive, white-tipped paw sticking ludicrously out of a sleeve. Already off-balance, spots on his disbelieving eyes, Max sat down with a thump.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Full Moon

  Anastasia had spent the last part of her visit insisting to her friend that she was fine, that she didn't regret coming out to her dinner party.

  I probably do regret coming out. Anastasia rubbed at her forehead, frowning at the curving rural road. She wasn't at full strength yet. It turned out that drowning took minutes, but recovering from it took weeks. My head hurts.

  It was a long drive home from her friend's place down on the river flats. Surprisingly, she didn't fear driving; her wrecked memory worked in her favour there. At this time of year the poplars were fancied up with golden leaves, especially nice with the setting sun filtering through them. Occasionally a pickup truck rattled past, but other than that she was alone on the road. The sedan she was driving, bought second-hand by her stepfather, had been waiting for her when she got out of the hospital, making her burst into tears. It didn't quite feel familiar yet, but she enjoyed its solidity.

  As she turned a long, sweeping corner, she saw someone standing in the road. Anastasia gasped loudly and slammed her foot down on the brake pedal. She heard the tires screech. Her heart nearly stopped as the back end of the car skidded to the right. It came to a stop, slightly askew, and she looked around wildly.

  She didn't see anyone as she fumbled with her seatbelt. Once free, she threw open the door and ran around the front of the car. Still no sign of anyone, prone or otherwise. The burst of adrenaline that numbed her lips and quickened her breathing distracted her from the tingling pressure at the back of her neck.

  Anastasia turned sharply to her left. Right next to her stood a solid shadow, about her height, in an unfinished humanoid shape. She recoiled in horror, the beginnings of a scream in her throat, as its spiny fingers reached for her. She felt pressure building in her head as she bolted around the car.

  "No! I'm not a vessel!" she cried. As she turned the corner of the rear bumper, she felt those peculiar fingers clamp around her shoulder. Its aggression terrified her. "My mind is my own. My mind is my own!"

  It felt like successive layers of thin film were separating her from her nervous system. Anastasia hurled herself clumsily forward. She hit the car with her side and bounced off to land on her knees. She scrambled up in time for the thing to seize her by the throat.

  No! Anastasia glared at it through spots on her vision as its tepid fingertips pressed into her windpipe. It was eerily, blankly strong, but she could feel how clearly it wanted control of her, and that gave her something to fight against. She bore down with all her mental power until its grip loosened enough for her to pull free. It immediately came at her again. She wildly dodged one grab. It caught her wrist and she fell hard against the trunk of the car.

  "I said no," she spat, tasting blood. "I will not be a place for you. This is my body, my mind. It is not for you. I am not yours." Inside her skull the pressure grew heavier and heavier. Pain sliced into her body until the parts of her that made actions and words were cut away. She slid down the car and fell limply to the asphalt.

  Yet she was still present when her body got up. It unnerved her that she couldn't feel her feet touch the ground as her body walked across the asphalt and through the dried grasses on the side of the road. It continued down the hill, pushing aside bushes, tangled dead grass, and old fallen branches with rude force.

  Who are you? What do you want from me? She got no response; whatever this spirit was, it had no interest in her beyond as a vessel. It frightened her that the shadow was apparently taking her straight to the river, but she didn't ask for mercy. She didn't want it to know how afraid she really was.

  As she drew near the edge of the river bank, the spirit left her so suddenly that it felt like her body had been hurled aside. Anastasia fell to the ground, her head reeling. She stared up at the shadow, so impossible, standing there in the dimness of evening. It did nothing.

  "What are you waiting for?" she whispered. The answer came immediately.

  In the core of her awareness, she felt a new kind of pressure. The stronger the pressure grew, the more she realized it didn't feel the same as connecting to the spirit world. This was an alien energy forcing its way in. Her body jolted and then collapsed, distanced from her; she stared blankly up at the sky, seeing the first hints of stars.

  It didn't surprise her that she began to recognize the energy as it filled her to overflowing. It was simply a less coherent form of the shadow itself.

  She could do nothing to stop it as it congealed within her, then began to tug its way free. As the new shadow rose next to her, she found the strength to turn her head. The two shadows made no real acknowledgement of each other, instead immediately walking back up the hill toward the road. Anastasia, drained, could only watch them go.

  *~*~*

  Max sat on the stairs, gazing in shock at the wolf. He didn't dare stand up. The foundations of his world had shifted slightly, and he wasn't sure they'd come to a stop yet.

  The wolf lay on its side, ears flattened and eyes squeezed shut. It—he—raised his head and shook it. Theo hunched his back and slid out from under the robe; for a moment he was caught in the sleeve and repeatedly nosed and tugged until he freed himself. Then he made a beeline for the computer desk and tried to fit his massive frame under it. Only partially successful, he gave Max a hunted look around the base of the chair.

  Max's next words came in a wild rush.

  "Okay, ghosts are one thing. I've been around spirits all my life, and they make sense to me, but — but seriously — what? What the hell? Theo, what the hell?" Theo's head cocked to the side. "Don't look at me like that! You're the one who can explain this!"

  Theo flattened his ears and gave him a dirty look, then crept out into the open. Max watched in dry-mouthed bemusement as the big animal began nosing around in a pile of cardboard boxes. Backing up, Theo dragged a white poster board over to the bottom of the stairs. It had the alphabet printed on it in capital letters. Theo went to the desk and rose
onto his back legs, then returned with a notepad in his mouth. This he carried right to Max, who automatically took it. Theo made the same round trip again, this time depositing a damp pencil.

  As Theo started to retreat, Max reached out to push his fingers into the dense fur of his ruff. It was coarse at the edges and soft near the skin. Theo hesitated, glanced at him, then shook him loose and went to the alphabet poster.

  He put his big black nose on a letter. It was "I." He looked expectantly at Max. After about a minute, he made a grumbling noise in his throat. Max belatedly wrote an "I" on the notepad. Apparently satisfied, Theo nosed a series of letters. Seeing him mince around the poster was surreally cute. Max dutifully wrote them all down.

  IM A WEREWOLF.

  "No shit," he said. Theo's ears pinned to his skull, but he resumed pointing out letters.

  FULL MOON. WEAK.

  "Huh?" But Theo was at it again.

  CANT CHANGE BACK.

  "Oh." Max cleared his throat. "Ever?"

  TOMMOROW.

  "That's not how you spell that." This earned him a growl. "Is there anything I can do?"

  DONT TELL.

  "Who would I tell? You know you've put a space thing and a period on here, but no apostrophes, right?" Max frowned at the poster. "Or question marks."

  Sitting down, Theo gazed at him. One brow was furrowed.

  "Look, uh, Theo, my family's got a history with unusual things—not that you're a thing. But that would probably be why I'm not screaming and running away." Max cleared his throat. "Mom, Anastasia, and I can all talk to spirits. Ghosts. I don't tell people about my family's secret, and I'm not going to tell anybody your secret, either. You can trust me."

  Licking his nose, Theo looked away. Max just gazed at him for a minute.

  "Is this why you avoid people?"

  Wrinkles appeared on Theo's wide muzzle.

  "I'm not judging, I'm just curious. Seriously, I get it, in my family being a kid was—" Cold goose bumps rose all over Max's back, and Theo jumped to his feet, growling. Max pulled himself up and looked around warily. He backed down the steps and stood next to Theo, whose hackles were up. Tingles flared up on Max's neck and shoulders. Growing pressure in his head made dark spots dance in front of his eyes.

  "Theo, there's something there. Be careful."

  *~*~*

  Four-legged, Theo was almost overpowered by the inky scent. It sent adrenaline coursing into his body, banishing the aches and fatigue. He couldn't see what was stinking up the basement, only the effects of its actions. Boxes suddenly crumpled and metal shelves rattled. Theo lunged forward to stand before Max, who was wavering on his feet. Then the shadow grew visible just out of reach in front of them. Theo growled. It seemed to understand his warning, hesitating where it stood.

  "My mind is my own. I am not a vessel for you." Max was mumbling the same two phrases over and over again. Unnerved, Theo growled louder. He lunged at the shadow, a feint. It dodged him but didn't fully retreat. Frustrated, Theo made a bolder move, and the thing slipped past him. He whirled, horrified, at Max's strangled cry.

  After that inarticulate protest and a grab at his own temples, Max was still. He blinked very slowly as he looked around the room, then down at Theo as if he didn't recognize him. Theo bared his teeth completely and hunched. The scent was still there, although muted. It was blending with Max's scent. That spooked him further. When Max turned as if to move for the stairs, his posture rigid and odd, Theo panicked.

  You can't have him! He grabbed Max's pant leg.

  Max jumped as if he'd been burned, although he didn't make a sound. Theo tugged and felt fabric tear. One of his canines slid across skin. He didn't smell blood—he hadn't broken skin—but fear he'd hurt Max mingled with the stronger fear of letting go. Theo ground down with his teeth and yanked. Max fell forward onto the stairs.

  The shadow peeled itself free. It stood, hands held out warily, and stared at him. Theo stood his ground, all too aware of how still Max was. Finally, his nerve went, and he barked. The shadow flew up the stairs and away.

  Max shuddered. He groaned as he turned and sat on a stair.

  "God, that sucked," he said, rubbing at his neck and jaw. Theo sat down and gazed at him. It was frustrating not to be able to ask if he was all right. "Spirits don't usually do that," Max went on. "Just jump you like that. It's so weird." He looked Theo in the eye. "Uh, I told you I was a medium, right? I can let ghosts and spirits ride me. I usually keep them out unless they ask nice, though." Max shuddered again, blinking rapidly. "It really sucks when they do that without permission." He rubbed at his own upper arms.

  Theo whined. He turned and leapt on the bed, looking at Max. At Max's puzzled look, Theo pawed the blankets. He whined again until Max stood. Scooping up Theo's fallen robe, then the fallen notepad and pencil, Max joined him on the bed.

  "Okay, I get it." Max tossed the robe over the end rail of the bed, then stretched out, fully dressed, on the blankets. "Yeah, it didn't like you. You're probably better suited for guard duty than I am." Theo curled up near him. Max's hand came to rest on his head, and it was all Theo could do to stop from shaking it off. He could practically hear Grandmother's sharp voice scolding him that one did not pet a werewolf in four-legged form.

  It's okay, Grandmother. He just doesn't know any better. Adrenaline abandoned him, leaving him without the energy to protest. The familiar ill feeling of moon sickness stole over him again. Everything had happened so fast he was left dizzy.

  "Something weird's going on in this town, Theo," Max said.

  Theo whined agreement, but despite his best intentions, his eyes sank closed.

  *~*~*

  His nose was cold. That and the heavy warmth on his thigh were the first things Max noticed when he woke. He was lying on his side on Theo's bed, fully dressed, with the pen and notebook beside him; the poster remained on the floor.

  Oh yeah. He peered down at the great head resting on his thigh, then reached out toward it. Just before his fingers made contact, Theo's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head. Max's fingers continued on to delve into the fur of his ruff. Theo shook him off. He got up and climbed off the bed, making it rebound significantly.

  Max sat up, then hastily looked away from a blast of golden light. He peered through spots on his vision at Theo standing nude between the bed and the wall. There was a residual glow in Theo's eyes as he leaned over to pick up his robe. This eerie effect should have drawn Max's attention, but he was absorbed in Theo: from the hard angles of his thighs to the tight curves of his buttocks to his ridiculously tiny waist to the intriguing little indents and bulges of his back, Max took it all in. He slid across the bed as if Theo had just turned into a super magnet and he a nail.

  "Are you going to—" Theo stopped when Max caught his hand, preventing him from closing his robe. His cheeks coloured, but he didn't protest as Max raked his eyes over his body.

  "Holy motherf—" Max's left hand swept over his face, cutting his words in half "—rist."

  "Wh-what?" Theo flinched when Max slapped his stomach.

  "Where did these come from? How does a guy who lives in his own basement playing video games get abs like these?"

  "It's kind of our, uh, metabolism or something." Theo cleared his throat. "We just—do."

  "Do you know what my weird thing gives me?" Max surged to his feet; startled, Theo fell back against the wall. "Comments on my report card." He yanked the robe down off Theo's shoulders. "Weird dreams. Poltergeists trashing my room. My parents shouting down school counsellors who refer me to shrinks who want to diagnose me as schizophrenic!" He pressed against Theo, catching him by the back of the neck.

  "M-Max, uh—mmph!"

  Max sealed Theo's mouth with his own, sucking up his next words; jolting, Theo bumped a small computer speaker off the ledge behind him. Max caught it automatically, busy seizing Theo's lips, releasing them, and seizing them again.

  "Oh, god, you turn me on," he said breathlessly. Wide-eyed, T
heo stared at him, his cheeks dark pink.

  "Uh—ah—we just—you f-found out—and there were freaking ghosts and—"

  "Later," Max said, taking Theo's waist in both hands and looking right into his eyes. "I'm done chasing you." He smiled at Theo's quivering mouth and quickened breath. "You're caught, you understand?" Not waiting for an answer, he went at Theo's mouth with serious intent.

  There was no resistance. Hands fumbled at his shoulders, feeling more than trying to push away, then began to caress his neck. They were strong, soft- skinned, but a little unsure. Max didn't feel he had time for unsure. He backed onto the bed, drawing Theo after him. Turning to lie on his back, Theo looked into Max's face. His expression was endearingly serious.

  "Max," he whispered, "I don't think I can."

  "Sure you can." Max slid in next to him and started kissing his neck.

  "S-seriously."

  "Seriously, you stop me now, I'm going to die," Max said, pressing closer.

  Gaze darting this way and that, Theo didn't speak immediately. His cheekbones pulled up into clear view as his mouth quirked. Finally, the smile broke free, just a little.

  "What?" Max asked, charmed.

  "Just funny," Theo said. "You're usually so cool and together, and right now you're...really not."

  "Well, maybe you're making me lose my cool." Max ran his hand along Theo's side, shaking his head. "I don't understand why you hide yourself away when you're so damn beautiful."

  Theo turned a deeper shade of scarlet, but he looked Max in the eye.

  "I can't change who I am," he said. "Not for anybody." Running through both his gaze and his words was a thread of rebellion that made Max's body flush with heat. "And it's not—that I don't want—this. You. It's just it's right after a full moon. I'm not sure I physically can yet."