My best friend Sheila was also a Witch, an honest-to-goodness Witch descended from a proud family of Witches—well, of skipped-generation Witches, anyway, since that’s how the gift usually passed on. Two months ago, I had no idea things like Witches and Werewolves existed, but I had a crash course on the supernatural after Carson changed into a wolf for the first time. He inherited the Werewolf genes from his father and—unbeknownst to me—from my family line through the recessive gene I didn’t know I carried. I had no Were abilities—and never would, unless my recessive gene was activated by a bite from a Werewolf. A bite might turn me into a Were, but also might kill me. At about even odds, I couldn’t risk it. Even if I wanted to.
We all quieted as a nurse bustled in, glanced at the oxygen meters still hooked up to my finger and Carson’s toe, and asked me how I felt. She said the doctor would be in shortly to talk about follow-up care before we were released.
When she left again, Tim said, “Tell me everything. What happened, Julie?”
I told them the whole story. Sheila sat next to me on the bed and she squeezed my arm at appropriate moments. Tim moved to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders, and nodded as if etching all the details into long-term memory.
“Carson called the moon at such a young age,” Tim said with a slight frown on his face, after I finished. He studied my baby, conked out asleep in my arms after nursing.
“What?” I said.
Tim glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “He must have called the moon and raised water as an instinctual defense against the fire.” He gestured to the spots of mud that lingered on my legs even after my feet had been cleaned in order to dress my cuts.
Raising water from the ground was a Were power, similar to the way the moon influences tides. I used to think Werewolves—if they existed at all—would just be humans that turned into wolves, but I learned they had the power to perform what I thought of as moon-magic. Since Weres drew their strength from the moon, they could influence things like water, shadow, creativity, and madness. Now I understood: the mud, the water, the wet pajamas. Except Carson was only a baby.
Carson’s lungs already sounded better. I cleared my own throat, which provoked a coughing fit. By the time I finished, tears flowed down my face. Just from coughing, though. I really was fine. I frowned at Sheila’s expression.
“Is that…unusual?” I asked, after catching my breath.
“Unusual? For a six-month-old full moon Were—who manifested at four months—to call the moon and raise water?” Tim shrugged. “How would we know? Carson’s so strong we can’t use normal standards to judge him.”
“When did you first call the moon? How long after you manifested?” Sheila asked Tim.
“I didn’t call the moon until my pack Full taught me how. I was twelve. I changed to a wolf for the first time when I was eleven, slightly earlier than average. To teach us how to call the moon, our pack Full demonstrated for me and the other young Weres, and we began by learning to shift darkness and hide. Not raising water. In fact, on a night like tonight, with the moon little more than half-full, I’d be taxed to make more than a mud puddle. Next week, I could draw up a decent trickle.”
Tim paused for emphasis. “But I’m not a full moon Were, just a waxing moon. And I’m certainly not…whatever Carson is.”
We all pondered his last statement for a minute. I rubbed my forehead, right between my eyes where stress always hit me. Hard enough to believe Carson changed into a wolf at the full moon, even though I’d seen it myself twice. He shouldn’t be able to access any of his other Were powers at this age.
“Did you recognize the other Were?” Tim asked.
“No. But I haven’t met that many. Like I said, he was really big and black.” I thought for a minute. The only black Were I knew was Ian McGregor, the younger brother of Carson’s father Mac. But this wolf hadn’t been Ian; I was positive. Besides, Ian wouldn’t want to hurt me or Carson—he loved his nephew. He visited during the last full moon and the two of them romped all over the backyard.
“Are you sure it was a ‘he?’ ” asked Sheila.
“Yes.” I answered, then frowned. “I think so, anyway. It seemed…like a ‘he.’ Male.”
“Thank goodness the fire engines scared him off,” said Sheila.
Tim’s usually mellow eyes narrowed. “I think I should go by your house and check things out. I can tell you how bad the damage is and also look for…any other signs.”
“Signs of what?” I asked.
Tim just shrugged.
Chapter Two
The doctors released us about five a.m., by which time I felt absolutely exhausted, yet somehow wired. They’d pumped me full of drugs to clear my breathing—perhaps explaining the jitteriness—prescribed my very own inhaler, and started me on a course of steroids to combat the inflammation in my lungs. Carson slept in my arms, though he kept startling and making small mewling noises. When that happened, I hugged him tighter and soothed him with whispers. Taking care of him somehow helped me: every time I thought about the flames chasing me, the smoke-filled air, my house collapsing, I fussed over Carson instead of falling to pieces.
The police department provided us with a car seat, after relaying the dire news my car burned to bare metal after part of my roof unexpectedly collapsed outward into the driveway. I thanked them for the seat and tried not to let the phrase “bare metal” echo in my head.
When we pulled up to Sheila’s house, Tim sat on the front step in wolf form. He rose and stretched his forelegs, then shook his head vigorously and loped to meet our car. I must have looked away for a minute, because when Tim—as a human—opened my door, I barely stifled a shriek. His eyebrows jumped in response.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Of course. You just surprised me.”
“Not that. How are you feeling? What did the doctors say?” Tim looked across me and addressed his second question to Sheila.
“I’m fine. They said we’d be fine,” I said, preempting any other response. “We’re both on steroids and inhalers. Well, Carson has a nebulizer, but he probably won’t need it for long with the Were healing. He’s practically better already. We’re just tired.”
Or I should be tired. I was tired, but…I reflexively glanced back to where Carson slept in his seat. He was fine, of course, safe and sound.
I jumped when Sheila spoke. Dammit, what were they trying to do to me?
Sheila’s forehead creased with that line she hated between her eyebrows. “I said, let’s go inside and get you comfortable.”
“Right.” I said. “Comfortable.”
My hands shook as I unbuckled Carson’s straps. Damned medicine. I felt my heart race, too. Sheila preceded us into the house, while Tim held the door and brought up the rear. He closed it very softly behind us, but tension snaked up my back. My gaze darted around the room cataloguing exits—front door, three windows, back door down that hallway through the kitchen—before I realized what I was doing. I leaned down into Carson’s head and inhaled, only to choke on the harsh smell of smoke and ash. I cleared my throat violently and swallowed hard.
Sheila came back into the room, and I still stood in the entryway like an idiot.
“I put down the futon in the office for you. I’ll get the sheets now.”
“Thanks.” I made my feet move in that direction. Tim hovered behind me.
We both waited while Sheila made the bed, Tim silently handing her pillows and a blanket. Carson slept against my shoulder, his mouth open, his chest rising and falling only slightly shallower and faster than usual.
“I don’t have a pacifier,” I said. “I don’t have a pacifier for Carson.”
“Do you think he needs one? He’s sound asleep right now,” said Sheila.
“He loves his pacifier. And I don’t have one!”
“Jules, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. Do you want Tim to go buy a pacifier somewhere?”
“I know. I know—I�
�m fine. But Carson—I can’t believe I don’t have a pacifier!”
Sheila crossed the room to me, but I backed away from her, shaking my head wildly to fend her off. Then she reached me and put her arms around me, talking to me softly, saying something I couldn’t even hear because the sound of my sudden sobs drowned her out.
****
I pulled myself together. Sometime, in the course of my crying, Sheila had taken Carson and snuggled him into a nest on the futon bed. He slept soundly. I looked at him for the space of several breaths and rubbed my eyes, then realized my glasses were probably a melted lump somewhere and sighed. Good thing I didn’t really need them too much, not even to drive legally.
“I’m sorry.”
Sheila frowned at me. “Sorry for what? For being human?”
“What, so if I was a Were I wouldn’t fall apart?”
For once, Sheila seemed at a loss for words. She just stared at me.
“You know that’s not what she meant,” Tim said. “You and Carson both nearly died in that fire. Your house burned to the ground, Julie. Anyone would be upset.”
I almost ignored his platitudes until his words sank in. I swiveled toward him.
“Did it? Did my house really burn to the ground?”
He nodded, slowly, and spoke with care. “Yes. The fire was too advanced when the firefighters arrived. The roof collapsed. They were still hosing down the building while I was there, so it’s impossible to know yet if any of your things might have survived.”
Sheila said something, but I didn’t listen. Tim’s face wore a sympathetic look, but his eyes were shuttered.
“Tell me the rest.”
Tim looked at Sheila.
“Dammit, Tim, what else? What aren’t you telling me?” I forced myself to lower my voice, because I didn’t want to wake Carson.
“Jules.” Sheila put her hand on my shoulder. “If Tim has more news, maybe it can wait until you’ve had a little sleep. And a shower?”
God. A shower. Suddenly, the reek of smoke still clinging to my hair overwhelmed me. I pushed the curls behind my ears defiantly and firmly decided the shower and sleep could wait.
“I need to know.” I set my jaw and matched Tim’s stare. “Tell me what you found.”
“Okay.” Tim sat across the room from Sheila and me. When he glanced at her briefly, the tension in his body told me he wanted to cross the room and touch her, to center himself. Out of deference to me or for some other motivation, he remained in his chair, though he leaned forward. He took a deep breath, and told me.
“Your house was burned down by Salamanders.”
The words didn’t match his tone.
“What…salamanders?” I echoed.
“No, not salamanders—Salamanders.”
This time, I heard the capital letter, but remained bewildered.
“What the hell are you talking about? Salamanders? Like, lizards?”
Tim’s face registered surprise. “Sheila?”
“I know what they are.” Sheila’s voice shook.
“Great. So glad you’re both part of the in crowd. Since my house burned down and my life nearly ended, do you think one of you could please enlighten me?”
“Dammit, Jules.” My sarcasm seemed to revive my best friend. “Could you drop the attitude for a while? Yes, shock and trauma and all of that, but you’re being a total jerk. Tim’s just trying to help.”
I meant to yell back, but the frustration on her face stopped me. I tried to give her a grin, instead. It probably looked like a grimace, but I gave my best shot.
“God, Sheila. Attitude is the only thing keeping me going right now.”
“I know, Jules. But you’re safe here—” She stopped. “Tim, are we safe here?”
“We should be. I’ll know if they’re around.”
“Hey, still waiting to hear who ‘they’ are.”
Tim said, “Salamanders are paranormal creatures, like Werewolves. They draw their strength from the sun and can call on its powers—fire, heat, light—similar to the way Weres draw on the moon to raise water, shift darkness, and such. Judging by the scents at the scene, at least three Salamanders called fire at your house. Not an accident, Julie. Arson. Someone—a group of someones—wanted you and Carson dead.”
“Why?” Sheila asked.
Me, I couldn’t even form the word. Dammit, I should have taken a shower and gone to bed and dealt with all of this later. Sheila had been right. As usual.
“I don’t know,” said Tim. “Yet.”
“I know Salamanders are…antithetical to Weres, but I thought you mostly co-existed peacefully.”
“We do.”
“Well, apparently not!” said Sheila.
“So these people turn into giant lizards? Instead of wolves?” I asked, not understanding why Sheila stifled a small laugh at my question.
Tim said, “No, they don’t change form. Sometimes when calling the sun, Salamanders have a different cast to their eyes or their complexion—minor changes—but they remain fully human in shape.”
“Then why are they called Salamanders? If they’re not lizards?”
Tim frowned, then finally crossed the room to stand beside Sheila’s chair. When he rested his hands on her shoulders, tension visibly drained from his body. Sheila unconsciously leaned back against him and his thumbs traced circles on her white t-shirt. They were physically opposite in so many ways, with Sheila’s striking looks and Tim’s extra-in-a-crowd-scene appearance; Sheila’s long blonde hair and smooth tan, Tim’s closely shorn black curls and dark brown skin. Yet there was an undeniable sense of rightness between them. I’d even stopped teasing Sheila about Tim being just another in her long line of throwaway men.
I realized my hands still shook and I clasped them together to hide the tremors. As Tim spoke, I forced everything else out of my mind to focus.
“You’d have to ask a Salamander for a full version of their history, but as I understand it, they believe they’re descended from a powerful sun-being, a lizard creature from the sun that came to Earth and mated with a human long ago.”
Sheila looked up at Tim. “Really? I always thought they were called Salamanders because people used to think salamanders—the real ones—lived in fire.”
“Why would people think salamanders lived in fire? Aren’t they amphibians?” I asked.
“Because salamanders lived in rotten logs and crawled out when the logs were thrown into a fireplace.”
“Well, both explanations sound equally bizarre to me,” I said.
“I don’t care how they got their name,” said Sheila. “Why are they trying to kill Julie and Carson?”
The million-dollar question. The one I’d been avoiding by focusing on the peripherals. I didn’t even know they existed. What could they possibly have against me?
We both looked at Tim.
He ran his fingers over his hair. “I’m going to check in with the council. They might know something helpful and they need to be informed about the attack. I’ll report the rogue Were, too.”
I nodded. Tim wasn’t in southern Oregon in his official capacity as a council investigator, but it made sense to consult them when any Were was attacked—especially when another Werewolf was the attacker, in addition to these Salamanders.
“What about the wolf?” I asked. “Did you find out anything more?”
“Definitely a male Were. He circled your house. I even found a paw print outside your window. I don’t know his identity, didn’t recognize his scent.”
A strange Were and at least three Salamanders tried to kill me and my six-month-old baby.
“I need to talk to Eliza,” I said. “I guess it’s too late to call her?”
Eliza Minuet was a full moon Were who’d been best friends with Carson’s father Mac since childhood. After Mac’s death, she transferred her love and devotion to me and Carson. If Carson was in danger, she needed to know because she’d do whatever it took to keep him safe. No matter what.
&nbs
p; Sheila handed me the phone. “You know it’s never too late to call Eliza, Jules.”
Eliza picked up right after the first ring. “Hello?” Her voice sounded sharp with alarm.
“Hey.”
“Julie? What’s wrong?”
A wave of emotion swept over me and I fought back tears, swallowing hard before I could speak again. “Yeah, it’s me. We’re okay. Salamanders burned down my house and tried to kill us. There was a Were, too. He attacked me, but he ran away because the fire engines got there.”
“Mother moon,” she said. “Are you okay? Really?”
“Yes,” I said, then undercut my adamant statement with a fit of wheezing coughs.
“Where are you? Is Tim there?”
“I’m at Sheila’s house, and yes, Tim is right here.”
“Did he recognize the Were’s scent?”
“No. He was big and black and strong. With sharp teeth.” I remembered how they’d glinted red in the firelight, pictured them tearing into Carson’s small body, and took a deep breath. It hadn’t happened. We were okay.
“Julie, listen to me. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Until I’m there, I don’t want you out of Tim’s sight. Do you promise?”
“Yes. I promise.” A small part of the tension thrumming through my body released.
“Okay. Good. Can I talk to Tim for a minute?”
I passed the phone over and the two Weres immediately traded information, discussing strategies for keeping me and Carson safe. I looked at Tim for a minute, his brow creased in concentration, then stood up.
“Can I get that shower now, Sheila?” I tried to smile.
Sheila sprang out of her chair and ushered me to the bathroom. She found towels, offered me a choice of several shampoos and body washes, and otherwise fussed over me until I gently pushed her out of the bathroom and started the shower.
Waxing Moon Page 2
