by E. S Night
Moon Rising
A Wolfland Novel
By E.S Night
Disclaimer
Copyright. 2016 E.S Night. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced without the written permission of the author. The distributing of this book without permission of the writer is illegal and punishable by law.
This book is for your personal enjoyment. The novel is a work of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, or to actual events is entirely coincidental.
Visit the author's website.
WWW.ESNIGHT.COM
Other Works by E.S Night
Titles of The Wolfland Trilogy
Moon Rising
Blood Ties
Silver Bullet (Part One)
Silver Bullet (Part Two)
The Greyblood Chronicles
Blessed
Gifted
Saintly
The Tales of 23
Short Stories
Chapter One
Desire
I had the dream again last night, the same inexplicable, lifelike dream. I can't stand this for much longer, seeing his face and feeling him here, I need something real. I wake up and my first thought is always. “Please take me back to him!” How can you miss someone who you don't even know? Somebody you've never even met! I don't understand.
This is the twenty-third time I’ve dreamt about this man and each time I end up deeper down the rabbit hole. Although, this time was different. Last night I found out his name – Grayson Hale. I must admit it's nice putting a name to the face that's been haunting me, despite it being meaningless. Grayson Hale wasn't real.Just saying his name makes this so much harder for me. Grayson – a name I must have gone over a thousand times in my head renders me useless in my existing reality.
The dream begins like every other night. I fall asleep imagining the white wolf and how I long to hear the howls of his pack. I’m taken there. I'm
flying like a bird above the ice and water as time slows down all around me. A wooden lodge captures my attention. At first glance, it's lit with warm candles reminding me of the front of one of my mother's Christmas cards. Some people are outside but I don’t recognise them, they're strangers but they seem to know who I am.
My heart stops as I notice my ex boyfriend, Jackson, sitting alone on a bench outside. I watch for a few minutes as a pretty, dark-haired girl joins him and reaches out to hold his hand. I’ve somehow settled my feet on the ground. My toes can't help but curl in the snow. Glancing down, I notice the white dress I’m wearing: it’s almost like a nightgown drowned in thin lace. I hope for a distraction, biting my bottom lip, trying hard not to let any of this upset me.
My eyes investigate the faces unknown in the crowd, but then, Jackson's eyes meet mine. Without a breath, he breaks through the horde of people, trying to reach me. I turn around, my blonde hair blowing in the cold wind. From nowhere, I spot a pair of green eyes lighting up beside the bar and I cry uncontrollably. It's strange, but I experience raw emotion surging through me and I begin to run.
I travel through the heavy snow, the dress getting caught under my feet. I stop just for a second and that's when I hear the footsteps of something coming after me. I can’t even look back. I can only run forward. I sprint with all the energy I can muster to the other side of the snowbanks, towards the thick forest.I'm seconds away from the forest edge but when I reach the woods, I slip off the embankment and plummet down not able to stop myself.
In every dream, he rescues me, grabbing me by the waist and never letting me fall. We race through the air and I can't focus on anything else but the pure ecstasy I’m feeling in that moment. I hit the ground in my saviour’s arms and like clock-work, I raise my head to see his face. He's beautiful. He is the most beautiful man I've ever seen. His dark brown hair falls perfectly onto his shoulders and his eyes glow bright in the shadows. He has one blue eye and one green; how unusual, I think to myself. His masculine arms tighten around me as if he knows what's about to happen and doesn’t want to let me go. His delicate lips part for what seem like minutes as he whispers in my ear, “Grayson Hale, that’s my name. Please remember.”
Everything then fades. He moves further and further away from me and then – just like that – I wake up. It's like the man knows me. Like I've known him my entire life. My mother interrupts my meaningful reflection by calling from downstairs, eager to drive me from my room. I travel to the edge of the bed, catching my blue sleeveless T-shirt on the corner of an old pine drawer. I shake the material free from the sharp wooden teeth holding my shirt hostage, falling back onto my bed in protest.
“Abigail!” I sighed, hearing my mum's second morning call. I lifted my head, blowing the hair from my face knowing the inevitable third squawk was coming. I tilted my head, puzzled at the fact my window was now open. I couldn't remember opening it. I shivered, realising it was much colder outside than usual. The sky was a perfect shade of white and I'd never seen it like that before. Perhaps it was an early sign that winter was coming.
On the largest island of the Isles of Scilly, a small settlement called Hugh Town thrives under the burden of Atlantic storms. The Isles of Scilly lie twenty-eight miles’ south-west of Land’s End. The word ‘isolated’ doesn’t do this place justice.
A kind of ‘love the one you’re with’ type of town. Most nights I watch the autumn storms when the winds are battering the boats in the harbour. I’m forever sunset spotting in the village, climbing up to the Garrison wall to watch the sun lay down over the islands.
It was only yesterday, before I went to sleep, that I spent too much time gazing through the lens of my camera. I take photographs of the green light that continues to brighten up the sky as the sun sinks down beneath the horizon. The locals like to call it a mystery. When I was younger, about six years old walking along the beach with my mum, the most brilliant green light flashed for just a few seconds as the sun disappeared. Mum likes to tell me, it's God's way of saying hello to us.
The Garrison wall has the best view of the green light. I must have searched a hundred places for just the right spot. The walls extend over 350 years. After the defeat of the Spanish Armada, some of the wall expanded around the cliffs fearing another similar attack. The wall’s defences were still being put into military operations during the Second World War. I guess that’s what I liked about it, that it had survived all
this time.
I keep myself to the outer wall at the top of Hew Hill. This section protects the town and castle, having gun batteries built at fixed points around the outer wall. I could talk about history all day.
“Abigail Marie Lawson!” My mum yelled. “Come down for your breakfast, you will make me late for the boat.” I fell out of bed, grabbing my dressing gown from the oak chair that my mum had refurbished last month for my birthday. I’d thrown my beautiful, handmade cushion on the floor she’d also crafted; I left it there in a silent objection to her getting me up.
I headed down the stairs unst
eady on my feet. I was still reeling from the dream I’d just had. I looked around the corner of the kitchen to find mum making pancakes on the stove. I paused for a second, realising how much I looked like her. Mum's blonde tresses of silky hair were wafting through the kitchen and her deep-set piercing blue eyes were reflecting through the bay window. She has an elf like nose that drops down from its point and her cupid's bow pink lips always pout to perfection. Dimples only slightly noticeable hide under her high
cheekbones, both complementing her snow-white complexion. My mum turned around quickly flying straight into the fridge injuring her elbow, blaming me for startling her.
“Sit down, I have to go soon.” She said moving all over the kitchen trying to put the pan in the sink. “You realise Abi that normal people don’t sleep until one in the afternoon.” My mum’s soft hands delivered my food to the table, her long, thin fingers tipped with painted and polished, ruby red nails. I nodded my head acknowledging her nice gesture and said thank you. I became extremely conscious of the fact our size was the only difference between us. She stood next to me at 5’5 and had a gorgeous slim figure; she must only weigh about 110lbs. I have to guess because there's no way that my mum would ever tell anyone her actual weight and that includes keeping it top secret from me. God knows why – she's perfect unlike myself. I'm more like 5’1 and have a voluptuous figure that pours into what I am told is a sought after hourglass shape. I'm secure in the 130lb bracket.
I sat down eager to tuck into my breakfast, hanging my legs over the wooden bench edging towards the kitchen table.
“Where’s Logan?” I dug the fork into my food, playing with the golden syrup my mum had poured on top of the pancakes.
Mum paused. “He’s in bed; he’s not going to school today.”
My humour turned to concern. “Why?”
“He's sick and has a temperature, so he’s staying home.” She bit the edge of her mouth, aware of my irritation.
“Mum! I can’t babysit Logan, the Wheelhouse and do all of my coursework! You're gone tonight and tomorrow for God’s sake.” I hated living in a bed and breakfast! Well, we sort of live in a B&B. Our house is our personal space, but it’s joined on to the guest section through the communal kitchen. It was my mum’s dream of running this business and my dad obliged, doing everything he could to make her happy. When we first moved in it was a right mess to be honest. Mum restored this elegant deep-rooted beach house through unyielding hard work and determination. I'm still in utter shock she completed it in only one year and stuck to dad’s tight budget. She loved decorating the guest bedrooms and cooking breakfast in the mornings. My mum was an amazing cook although you wouldn’t know it
from the burnt pancakes steaming on my plate.
Overall, my mum's great at her job. Most people who stay here come back time and time again just to see her. But, I repeat - I hated it! In the spring and summer, it’s fine; I have a good time with the guests and willingly do my bit to keep the place running smoothly. Despite this, in autumn and winter we have no customers. Winter's approaching and we’ve had the odd visitor staying with us but nothing even close to what we need to keep this place afloat. For these two seasons a year, my mum withdraws and I have to witness her stressing every day. I say again – I HATE THIS PLACE!
“Shush keep your voice down, I know it’s a lot Abi but I need you to do this for me while I go to the bank on the mainland. You understand how important it is that I get to that appointment tomorrow. I’ve explained this already, and there are no guests staying tonight. If someone asks for a room, ring Konrad. I’ve asked him to drop by and make sure you're all right, but I can’t take your brother when he’s ill, can I?” I could sense her embarrassment and I didn’t want to press any further, but, as if I needed Konrad to check up on us.
Konrad was my mum’s younger brother, also known as my angry, weird mechanic uncle. The shaping of tears in my mum’s eyes was now visible although she tried to hide her face from my line of sight. “I’m sorry, I can handle it. You get ready, everything will be fine.” Mum brought me closer into her arms and held me against her chest. I could sense her desperation as she held me, but I remained ignorant as always to our money problems, which is the way my mother preferred it.
“Don’t worry about me.” She urged. “Everything will be okay. I love you, it’s just one night.” She let go of me and shifted into the hallway. I couldn't help wondering what life would be like if dad was still here. He moved out three years ago. My parents pretend that someday they’ll get back together, they’re only separated and seem to use this as an excuse. They do anything to avoid dealing with their problems. My brother and I aren’t in the same concerning denial about our parent’s relationship. We understand that it won’t end well, we get it, it’s over; we wish they'd realise it's finished so they can both move on and dad would stop holding his money hostage.
My dad, Henry is a top surgeon in London and lives in an amazing apartment. He's single because he never agrees to go on dates, although he has plenty of admirers. I think he’s still waiting for mum to take him back, which is not exactly working out for him. He's trying to blackmail her; it's almost become his sadistic little hobby.
My mum has no shortage of male attention, she’s beautiful so I understand why, but she says yes to any man who is remotely good looking. Last week she went on two dates with a landscape gardener. He validates everything that's wrong with the type of men she ends up with. Mum has him fixing our back yard at the minute so guests can sit outside. You can bet he's only doing that so he can get laid and knowing my mum, it’ll work, if it hasn't already.
A huge wave of anxiety came over me. I knew I’d left something at the Garrison wall last night. I'd taken my mum’s phone from the desk when mine wouldn't turn on. Worried that I would miss the green light, I borrowed, well – stole my mum's. Leaping from my seat and running out of the kitchen I knew I had to get it back before my mum left for the mainland. I shot upstairs in a
panic and changed into some tattered jeans and a white vest top, grabbing my converse from off the floor.
“Where are you going?” Mum asked from her bedroom.
“I’m just nipping to the shop; I’ll be about ten minutes!” I shouted knowing I would be longer.
“Be back for three, I mean it Abi, don’t be late. I need to catch the boat at half past.”
“I won’t be, I promise I’ll be back in time.” I said in hoping I was more convincing than I felt. I hurried downstairs snatching my leather jacket off the bannister and ran out of the door.
Crap, crap, crap! I thought to myself as I stumbled down the beach heading towards the forest. If I cut through the woods and didn't use the main road, I’d make up time. I hurried through the woodland as fast as my legs would allow. Something was making me uneasy, as if someone was watching me, staring me down. I continued up the forest path moving faster now, still believing I was being followed. I reached the clearing and could already see the phone lying there from last night. I moved up the hill and then climbed onto the wall, grabbing the phone. I tried and failed to switch it on, the battery was dead,
but I knew mum could charge it when she got off the island.
Out of nowhere, I heard a boat coming into the harbour. My eyes met the ocean and saw a few passengers, but I couldn’t see their faces. Fear crept up on me again as I remembered mum needed to be getting back on the same boat. I needed to hurry! I looked back to the water and couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted to know who was travelling to the island but I couldn't wait any longer. I stopped myself and hurried back down the wall to the woods and my house.
Chapter Two
Understanding Your Limits
“Are you serious Abigail? Did you leave it until the last-minute on purpose? It’s getting bloody dark.”
“I’m sorry, don’t forget your phone.” I handed it to her, attempting to look blameless. It didn’t work.
Mum locked on my childlike eyes, hesitatin
g before she spoke. “Come and give me a hug you, idiot.” She pulled me into her chest. “Now listen, I left Logan’s medicines on the kitchen table with a list of when he’s supposed to take them. Are you listening? Make sure he takes his codeine before he goes to bed, or he’ll be up all night in pain.”
“I have done this before mum, I know what he takes, don’t worry. It’s like what, a night and half a day. I think I can keep him alive for that long.” I laughed.
“That’s not funny, smart arse. I love you, I’ve said goodbye to Logan. I think he is on the verge of falling asleep, so just leave him to rest till he needs his pills.”
“All right, bye, love you.” I said, ushering my mum out the house.
“Okay, I’ll call you when I get to the hotel.” She said, closing the door behind her.
I watched from the living room window as mum walked down to the harbour in front of the house. At least I had some quiet for the rest of the day. Surprisingly, I was able to get the rest of my literature coursework finished in about three hours, although finding the rest of it in my bedroom would be a challenge.
“Abigail? Is that you?” Logan called. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. I ran upstairs to Logan’s room and opened the door.
“What’s up? Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine, I’m just hungry.”
“You're not in any pain or anything? Mum said you were sick.”
“My chest hurts, but nothing like I was making out. I didn’t want to go to school and then to the mainland. I wanted to stay here.” He explained pleased with the success of his little plan.
“You can’t joke about these things; how will I know now when you’re not messing about? Promise me you'll never do that again!”
