Bound to the Moon

by Kristy Centeno

  This wolf means to kill me and he will if I get distracted again.

  Using my ever-present ally—my anger—to my advantage, I turn slightly to my left and slam my elbow underneath his muzzle. The impact unsettles him and he stumbles back, flailing his arms wildly in order to keep himself balanced. I don’t wait for him to recover and bend at the waist, body slamming him to the ground.

  His back hits the ground hard, disturbing the soil underneath him. I straighten up quickly and press my left knee into his abdomen while my fists keep his elongated snout wired shut with every blow I deliver. Every time my hands connect with his hairy face he winces, growls, and buckles as he tries to unhinge me, but I’m not going anywhere.

  He’s not a purebred and it shows clearly when he lacks the strength to unbalance me and get the upper hand. However, as I pummel his face with fist after fist, I realize he’s no longer fighting back.

  There’s a war going on around us. Loud roars and shouts can be heard for miles, I’m sure. Yet, this individual wolf isn’t putting up a front so I stop, with my right fist up in the air, and stare down at him. What’s with this submissive demeanor? I observe him for a moment longer because I can’t shake the feeling that I know him from somewhere.

  Familiarity hits the second I take another look at his remaining green eye.

  “Jack?” Recognition sets in and I back off, shocked. It is Jack. He escaped last week, but he’s here now. Why? “You came back to finish what you started?”

  He looks up at me expectantly, his eye pleading. I’m confused. I stand over him, muddling over what’s going on and find myself hesitating. If he’s here, it has to be under the alpha’s command. But why has he just given up? Why isn’t he fighting back?

  “Jack, why—” my question is cut short by needle sharp canines being deliberately embedded into my left shoulder. I roar in anger more than by pain and lash out, throwing my head back, I use it as a defense mechanism and head-butt my opponent. He lets go, but not before ripping my skin wide open first.

  In pain and boiling up in anger, I turn, frame his face between my hands, and sharply snap his head to the right, cracking his neck with one quick jerk. I let go and he slumps to the ground, dead. It’s survival of the fittest and right now is either kill or be killed.

  “Kyran! Watch out for—”

  I turn to my right at the sound of Alexis’ warning. I see he’s busy with three other wolves, they have cornered him into a tree and by the blood pouring down his leg and the red stain on his abdomen I can see he’s sustained significant injuries.

  I mean to move in to help him but there are another set of three wolves moving quickly in my direction. As much as I want to go in and help my twin, things are looking grim on my end as well. I take a second to scan the area and I’m quickly able to locate Dario and Esteban. Each one is occupied with their own set of furry problems.

  It is safe to say we have been ambushed and I’m still wondering where Gage is. He should have been here by now. I can’t sense him anywhere and I’m beginning to worry.

  I stand my ground and face the oncoming threat head on. The werewolf in the front seems to be the group leader. He’s not an alpha, but he’s a high ranking wolf. The lead Tracker of the invading pack, maybe. I’m not sure but he appears very determined to finish me off.

  His dark eyes asses me. There’s hostility clearly written there. He doesn’t like me any more than I like him. We’re enemies, brought to this place by the same eager passion to fulfill our goals. The difference between us is that he seeks to destroy that which I’ve been fighting so hard to keep alive.

  “You’ve crossed the wrong wolf,” I warn.

  He meets my gaze and holds it, letting me know he’s not afraid of me. The message is clear: he’s not going to stop until I’m dead.

  It will be a fight to the end then. So be it.

  I straighten up and let my claws push through the tips of my fingers. They’re sharp and ready to go. So am I. Anything might happen. I keep my guard up as the intruder moves in closer, his determination clear.

  For a very brief second, it strikes me as odd that his companions aren’t attacking, but keeping to the sidelines. However, it doesn’t matter if they attack now or later. I have to be ready just the same.

  The leader gets within a few feet from me before coming to a halt. He cocks his head to the side, as if he’s getting ready to say something. But before he can get a growl in, shots ring out. The brown wolf in front of me howls in pain as a bullet strikes his lower abdomen. He curls inward, clutching at his lower left side as he barks a series of yaps that indicate he’s in a huge amount of pain.

  He’s no longer advancing. His focus has transferred from me to this newly acquired injury. I watch in shock and surprise as he stumbles a bit before falling to the ground, huffing, and puffing in obvious distress.

  What kind of bullets hinders a werewolf virtually immobile? Beta or not?

  I barely have time to pause to analyze what my eyes are processing since more bullets whiz by me, striking beta after beta. One potentially deadly miniscule missile whizzes so close to my face I can feel the heat it leaves behind during its route toward the wolf standing a few feet behind me.

  The destructive missile leaves behind an odd, familiar odor that I can’t quite place.

  Beta after beta fall to the ground in agony. Those who aren’t instantly struck, run off into the woods in chaotic panic. I look around for the source of the tiny missiles and though the fog encumbers my vision, scent soon identifies the ones responsible. Bray and his Trackers have arrived, fully armed, and apparently on some kind of cleanup mission.

  The sound of their heavy boots soon pinpoints their location. They’re not too far and approaching quickly. I have no way of knowing what their intention is so I turn back to where I last spotted Alexis and see him leaning heavily against the tree he’d been cornered to a moment before. Since I don’t know what’s in those bullets or if they’re as deadly to us as they seem to be to the betas, I decide it’s best to seek cover.

  My instincts scream at me to go straight to the hospital and pull Marjorie out, but I can’t leave my brother behind. He’s tired, hurt, and won’t get far before Bray or his Trackers catch up to him so I fight my instincts and rush toward Alexis.

  “Alexis? How are you holding out?” I put my hand on his left shoulder and quickly assess him for any severe injuries

  “I’m fine.” His chin rests against his chest. His breathing is labored. “I may have some internal bleeding, but that will clear up in a little bit. I just need to rest.”

  “You need to sit.” I force him to sit on the tree’s large roots protruding from the ground. He needs a moment and although I’d rather put some distance between Bray, his Trackers, and the rest of the wolves, Alexis needs just a second or two to regain enough stamina to move out of the area.

  He sits and leans forward, wincing as he struggles to deal with his discomfort. “What’s going on?”

  I look around, trying to locate Dario or even Esteban but I can’t make out either of them. All I see are masses of fur running left and right, and even more of them slumping to the ground a second after being impacted by a bullet. Those who try to escape don’t make it very far before they are hit.

  “We have to go, Alexis,” I say as Bray’s Trackers finally come into view. Their huge forms break free of the concealment provided by the dense fog and I can see all eight carry semi-automatic guns in their hands and are heading in our direction.

  “Bray,” I hiss. “I should have known.”

  Alexis lifts his head and looks around, confused. “What kind of bullets is he using?”

  “I don’t know.” I scan the area behind Alexis, looking for Dario and Esteban once again. Ever since the shots began, I haven’t seen either of them. I have no idea where Gage is either.

  “Kyran Rousseau.” Bray’s voice is barely audible amidst the sound of moaning werewolves. “You should have heeded my warning.”

&
nbsp; I glance to my left and find him locked and loaded, his semi-automatic pointing directly at me. I prepare myself for impact.

  “Did we ruin your plans?” I ask, stepping in front of Alexis to block Bray’s view of him. If he shoots me first, Alexis might have a chance to get away.

  “This?” He points behind him with the gun, motioning to the fallen troop of wolves. “This wasn’t my doing. I told you I’m here for the girl but I have no intention of hurting her.”

  “What are you here for?” Alexis forces himself into a standing position and steps beside me.

  Run. Away. You idiot, I mentally chastise him.

  He rewards my attempt at saving his life with a stern look that clearly says he has no intention of leaving me alone.

  “I’m here to make sure you two don’t fail to protect her and in case you do—” he shakes the gun in his hand before setting it to the side “—we have backup.”

  “What’s in those bullets? No werewolf is vulnerable to guns. Unless the bullet’s been planted in between our eyes.”

  “No purebred, you mean. Betas are susceptible to many things we are not. Including aging, disease, and even...” he takes a bullet from within the cartridge and tosses it to me.

  I catch it in my right hand and look down at its elaborate design in astonishment. The bullet is similar to any other except its chamber is transparent and inside I can see a violet colored liquid packed tightly inside the tiny vial.

  “Concentrated wolfs bane?” The odor finally makes sense. Back in the old days, it was common for those who feared werewolves to use wolfs bane as a means to repel them, but the poisonous flower didn’t really work. Or at least I thought it didn’t.

  “Legends ring with a bit of truth, Kyran. Wolfs bane does nothing to purebreds, but to those born of the bite, it is a different story. It is highly poisonous and in high doses can be even lethal.”

  I glance around at the fallen wolves. None appear to be dead, but not one is moving. They lay completely still, their breathing labored.

  “So they’re unconscious?”

  Bray nods. “They won’t be for long.” He turns to his right-hand Tracker and says, “Bayard, collect the wolves and make sure to dispose of them properly. We have little time but we can’t leave evidence of what has just happened here.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” Bayard bows respectfully before marching off to do Bray’s bidding.

  We gaze at the giant Tracker as he barks orders to the rest of his group, all of which are clad in dark clothing and carry what looks like specially designed equipment.

  “How did you know they planned a takeover?” Alexis turns an accusing glare in Bray’s direction. “Don’t tell me you just happened to pass by and—”

  “Kyran!” The sound of Jack’s desperate call forces our attention from the conversation. He’s being dragged away by one of the Trackers. From where I stand, I can see he’s been hit by not one but several bullets and his heart is already slowing down. “Kyran!” he tries again.

  “Wait!” I run toward Jack, taking in his now human form and I can’t help but feel pity for him even after everything he’s done.

  I approach just as the Tracker carefully places Jack back down on the ground.

  His eyes are wide and full of fear. “I have something to tell you.” He wheezes and clutches desperately at his chest. “I...owe...Marjorie and apology. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I didn’t have a choice. I—” he coughs, spitting up blood into his hands. He takes a few deep breaths before adding, “I didn’t choose this. They chose me.”

  “Who did? Santos?”

  “No. Not Santos.” His entire body shutters. His final moments were nearing. I could feel his pain. The poison was dispersing throughout his body quickly, spreading its deadly effects to every one of his organs. “Gandillon. The alpha’s real name is Gandillon. He threatened to kill my brother if I didn’t cooperate. I...had...to...”

  “What does he want with Marjorie?”

  “He...wants...to fuse the bloodlines.” Jack took a long breath, his eyes hazing over slightly. “He wants to...use...Marjorie’s DNA to create the ultimate werewolf.”

  “Jack. Wait.” I hurried to my knees beside him. “Where’s his hideout?”

  Jack coughed harder, his mouth filling up with blood. “Nearby...” His eyelids droop shut. “They...are...hiding...in plain...sight.”

  “Jack!” I shook his shoulders in an effort to keep him conscious long enough to share a few more details, but he seemed to be dying quicker than I could think to ask more questions. “Jack. Who’s working with him? Tell me!”

  His eyes open suddenly. “Tell...Marjorie...I’m sorry.” His body begins to convulse, his eyes roll into the back of his head, as his limbs grow stiff, rigid. He’s far beyond help so I hold his body down until it stops moving and then slide his eyelids down to hide the death stare in his gaze.

  Out of respect for the dead, I take a moment of silence next to Jack’s rigid body. No one else talks or moves. Whether out of respect for Jack or me I don’t know, but I’m glad no one speaks. My mind is close to bursting with doubts, indecisions, and suspicions by this point and all I need is a moment to mentally catch up.

  I glance over my right shoulder at Bray. Who is he really? And how did he know we were going to be ambushed?

  “Don’t you think you should be sharing what you know?” I pick myself up and face him. Our gazes collide. We are both dominant in our own way and neither of us is willing to back down. “Who are you? Really? My brother hasn’t heard of Bray Colton. Neither have I.”

  “That’s because Bray Colton is just an alias a good friend gave me five hundred years ago. My real name is Bray ValKhazar.”

  Alexis’ quick intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed even by me.

  “You see, when I mentioned I came here for the girl I was not fibbing. I’m determined to save the last living relative I have left. She’s my uncle’s legacy. She’s my father’s legacy. Both men fought to keep her alive. To make sure the next generation had a right to live and pass down that, which marked our family as unique many years ago. I have been looking for the Lost Child for over five hundred years and after so many failed attempts at locating her I have finally found her.”

  I’m completely taken aback. I don’t want to believe a word he’s said, but for some reason I can’t deny there’s an obvious physical resemblance. Earlier, when I first saw him, he struck me as familiar and now I know why. The hair color, eye color, even the skin color is the same as Marjorie’s. They even look alike.

  “Marjorie is not five hundred years old.” I argue. How could he have been looking for Marjorie that long if she’s barely nineteen?

  “No. Of course not. But her mother—if she is alive—would be turning just over six hundred this winter.”

  I blanch. I can’t help the reaction. Marjorie’s mother? Six hundred years old?

  “My dear cousin, Elsa ValKhazar, fled during the Carlisle Castle takeover. We had many casualties that December evening, but she was not among the deceased. I was informed later that, upon being pursued by our old enemy—The Vernon pack—she traveled west to Ireland and from there I lost all traces of her.”

  “I have spent countless hours and resources in trying to locate her whereabouts, but there were many times when I was misled or followed false reports. It wasn’t until a little over ten years ago when I came close to finding her only to lose her trail. As far as I know, there was another huge pack—enemy pack— on her trail as well. She took off again, leaving very little for us to go on.”

  I’m taking all this information in, but I’m thinking of Marjorie. On how this will affect her. How will she take the news that her mother is six hundred years old? Will she even believe it?

  “Marjorie’s mother abandoned her to protect her.” It’s not really a question but Bray responds to it as if it was.

  “I suppose so. Elsa would have never left her child behind unless she was forced to in order to hide her identity,�
�� Bray adds matter-of-factly. “Now that we have established that the Gandillon pack is after Marjorie we need to come up with fool proof plan. One that will guarantee our success.”

  “Wait a minute.” I toss an irritated look in Bray’s direction. “I still haven’t established whether I can trust you or not.”

  “I have no reason to lie to you. I just came to your aid.”

  “Really? And you just happened to know these betas were going to ambush us? How convenient. I don’t believe in coincidences, Bray.” The remark comes out full of sarcasm but I don’t care. I’m not about to trust anything he says until I have proof I can count on him.

  Bray merely smiles. He doesn’t even look annoyed. “This wasn’t an ambush. The Gandillon pack was testing your defenses as well as ours. When the betas fail to show up, they will know they have worthy adversaries. They will also know on which side I stand and will come after me just like they came after you. They will move every able body within a fifty-mile radius. They will stop at nothing. The sooner you learn to accept that the better it will be for Marjorie.”

  “Kyran.” Alexis pats my arm. “Josephine is having trouble keeping Marjorie calm.”

  I glance at Alexis and find him texting Josephine. His eyes are focused on the cell phone’s screen.

  “She heard everything that went on and is freaking out. The police have been called, too. They should be here any minute.”

  “You should go in and calm your mate down.” I turn my attention back to Bray just as he adds, “She must be worried about you.”

  Alexis stiffens next to me.

  “I can’t go in the hospital like this.” I refer to my bleeding arm and shoulder.

  Bray smiles as he shrugs off the brown leather jacket he’s wearing and offers it to me. “Here, put this on. You need to go comfort her.”

  I don’t want to accept his hospitality, but pride really doesn’t have a place right here, right now. Marjorie is probably scared to death and I need to assure her that I’m okay so I take the jacket and don it. I zip it up and then turn to Alexis.