Moon Rising (Mount Henley Trilogy Book 2)

by Kat Zaccard

  Jillian had avoided me since the incident in the forest. It was a welcome reprieve, but she still invaded my thoughts. I wished I could un-see that moment, but I couldn’t. The scene was burned into my retinas, their half-naked bodies scrambling to get dressed. Try as I might to scrub my mind’s eye clean, things weren’t going to be the same.

  I was grateful for a week of isolation and a chance to let my temper cool. Unfortunately, it also let my humiliation ferment. It was a relief when I was finally let out of quarantine. I needed my friends. The Fur Patrol was having lunch in the Artemis mezzanine. Shea and I had already told Hayley, Sara, and Lola about the incident in the woods. I’d been worried about letting Damka and Fanya in on it. Hayley argued that we should be telling everyone, that it could discredit the betrothal and set me free. Nadia had warned me that was far too risky. But Fanya and Damka were part of my junior patrol, which made them part of my pack. I had to trust someone, and I had to be worthy of trust in return. So I swore them to secrecy and filled them on Logan and Jillian’s tryst. They had been all kinds of aghast. Fanya stated she was personally offended.

  We were huddled close around our table keeping our voices low. I kept telling everyone to stop looking, but I knew they were sneaking peeks at Jillian’s table across the room. I really didn’t want Jillian to know we were talking about her. I felt bad about that. I wasn’t about to slut shame anyone, even an enemy. It was really none of my business and totally okay for her to do whatever with whomever. But this whomever did involve me, thanks to the stupid contract that said I had to marry Logan. I needed a strategy, and I needed my friends’ help.

  “Werewolves mate for life, and well, they mated,” reasoned Hayley.

  “Eww,” squealed Lola and Damka in unison. They looked at each other and laughed.

  “It’s not unheard of for previously betrothed couples to take a mistress after twining. It’s frowned upon and kept secret, but I know such things occur,” replied Fanya, to my surprise. The look she gave me conveyed more than I could intuit; still, what she said gave me pause.

  “Is it legal for one to take a mistress before the twining?” I wondered, desperate to turn this to my advantage.

  “And what about true mates?” asked Shea. I raised my eyebrows at her. Was she asking for me or herself? “You know, like Jack and Kulani,” she amended hastily. “If Logan and Jillian were true mates couldn’t, that persuade the council?”

  “If they even believe in that sort of thing.” I muttered it, but Shea heard me and sent me a withering look.

  “We’ve been studying it in biology. It’s common enough to be real,” Shea admonished.

  “We have many true mates in our country,” added Fanya. “We don’t need science to prove what our eyes can see.” She glanced out the window towards the Apollo dorm. I was starting to think I was the only person actually discussing the situation at hand.

  Lola worried that even if the council bought the idea that Jillian and Logan were true mates, it would only put Jillian in danger. “What if Logan’s family had her killed or something?”

  Sara snorted. “Yeah, they’re going to kill the Queen’s daughter.”

  “The Queen Regent,” amended Hayley.

  “They killed my parents, so why not?” I said and Shea kicked me under the table. She needn’t bother; I was already kicking myself.

  Damka gasped, but Fanya waved at her to hush. To me, she said, “Alice, you know we’re with you. Whatever you say to us is in strict confidence. How can it be treason for the rightful queen to want her throne?”

  I smiled at Fanya gratefully. “I have no proof except the word of one man who worked for my father. He saw my father brutally murdered by members of the King’s Guard. He helped me get away rather than pursue my father’s killers.”

  Damka’s eyes were wide. Fanya breathed, “Of course there was a reason you disappeared for so long.”

  “Yeah, well, who had the most to gain from her father’s death?” inquired Shea pointedly.

  “You said your ‘parents,’ plural.” Fanya was perceptive and persistent.

  “It’s a hunch.” I shrugged.

  “It’s more than a hunch,” declared Hayley. She took over the story to spare me the gory details. It didn’t matter; I still imagined something horrible every time. Knowing the truth, however gruesome, had to be better than not knowing. Not knowing was torture.

  “Her mother was having twins. By all accounts, it’s perfectly normal and natural for werewolves to have even larger litters. Anyway,” Hayley hastily continued when I guffawed at the word “litters,” “her mom, the Queen, was perfectly healthy, and everything was going great. It wasn’t until after Alice was born, and her father left the room with the baby, that everything went wrong. Between Alice’s birth and his return to Queen Marguerite, she and her son had died.”

  Damka was crying and I felt my own throat close up. I cleared my throat a few times, picturing the family that might have been. I loved my parents. But I was starting to wonder what a life with my birth family might have been like. I’d lost a twin. I was angry that I hadn’t even known about him for sixteen years. I lost all that time to grieve. I kept losing him over and over as I thought of him as a baby, a toddler, and growing into a teen.

  “But there’s no evidence of foul play?” Fanya inquired. She was trying to tactfully ask a tactless question.

  Hayley, often tactless herself, didn’t mince words. “Do you think it’s all coincidence that the last remaining Lunas are attacked when they’re most vulnerable? Of course it was a coup, and it was an inside job. How else could they get to the Queen? There’s the highly probable cause, and we’re working on the proof.”

  “Do you have any leads?” asked Fanya. Sara glowered at her. “I’m trying to help. We need proof.”

  “I’m not sure we do,” I said to everyone’s surprise. “As long as they crown me next September, that’s it. I win.” I tried to make it a statement, but it almost sounded like a question.

  “What if the Dolphs and Reynoldses join forces to oust Alice?” exclaimed Lola.

  “You’re watching too much TV, Lola.” Sara rolled her eyes. Lola crossed her arms and looked away, pouting. Sadly, the thought had crossed my mind more than once.

  “But wasn’t that the queen’s original plan?” I asked. “Marry Jillian off to Logan to keep the crown in her family?”

  “Yeah, but that was before you returned. You’re the rightful Queen and all the royal and noble families know it,” Fanya declared. As another royal, having her support did offer me some relief.

  “Ugh, I just don’t want to think about it!” I argued, so we didn’t. We ignored Jillian and her friends and they ignored us. It was an uneasy truce, but the silence was pleasant.

  ◆◆◆

  November came with a bucket of snow. Before long, the campus and grounds were transformed into a winter wonderland. Junior patrols were going great. In the past two full moons running patrols, my pack-mates each had added another day to their shift. I had petitioned Olaf to let us run six days of junior patrols and he’d agreed. He had announced it to the entire training squad, earning a cheer from most and boos from Jillian and Pamela.

  Jillian’s team still only ran three days. She and Pamela were coleaders, and seemed to be butting heads more and more. It was strange, since last year they’d been friends and hung out in the same crowd. Lately, Jillian was more often alone. Pamela, on the other hand, had really taken on the leadership role seriously. I thought she just wanted to do a good job. Pamela had avoided me ever since I helped her first shift back to human last year after our first full moon run. I didn’t avoid her, but I didn’t seek her out. I hadn’t realized I was using my alpha influence at the time, or I would’ve asked permission. I couldn’t explain it to her. It made me sad, but I didn’t know how to fix it and feared making it worse.

  Our group, on the other paw, was really learning to move as one. Shea had really stepped up her game in training, and Hayley was al
ready a lethal weapon. I wasn’t the strongest or fiercest fighter in the group, but they all deferred to my strategies. We’d won nearly every game of capture-the-flag. Our signals were more and more nuanced, and I was learning to lead with tail twitches and soft barks instead of relying on my alpha abilities. I was determined to be prepared and to keep my pack safe.

  Shea and I continued to puzzle over the book Gwendolyn had given us over the summer. I often studied the strategies late into the night, trying to work out the diagrams since I couldn’t read the ancient text. Gwendolyn had sent me an email on November first, the day after Samhain. It was weird opening an email from her. I half-expected her message to come by owl.

  The note was rather disappointing in its banality, but all-in-all, it wasn’t bad news. Gwendolyn affirmed that the other covens had noticed increased activity among the more malevolent groups the witches dealt with. She was extremely vague as to who or what these groups were, which only furthered my suspicions that I’d only scratched the surface of what the witches were capable of doing.

  Gwendolyn did say that the covens were prepared to battle the upyr. They’d heard about the increased sightings, and had a few run-ins themselves. One coven in Toronto had stumbled across an upyr attack. They chased the upyr out of the city but lost him in the woods. It seemed the witches were less in denial about the upyr threat than the werewolves. Gwendolyn said she was laying the groundwork for a truce between us, but until I took the throne, no witches would risk traveling to our territory. It made sense. It seemed I was powerless until my coronation.

  One late November evening, I had the leather bound manual by the fire in the parlor. My friends and I were studying in the common area before heading to bed. I was leaning so far into the pages of the book that Fanya snickered, “Careful, Alice, you might fall in.”

  I glanced up at her and smiled. “I wish I could; maybe then I could figure this out.” I tossed the volume on the coffee table irreverently.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “An old book I got from a friend. I can’t read it, but the illustrations look like ways to fight he upyr.”

  Hayley picked up the leather volume. “Hey! Are these werewolves and humans fighting together? Or maybe those are Weres in human form?”

  “Nah, they’re werewolves and witches,” said Shea with a yawn.

  “Shea!” I tossed a pillow at her. “Way to keep a secret.”

  “Witches?” squeaked Lola. “Like cauldron-stirring, broomstick-riding witches?”

  “Umm…”

  “Please! You Westerners are so ignorant sometimes.” Fanya laughed.

  Sara scowled at her. “Hey!”

  Fanya waved away Sara’s indignation. “You rely on science to prove what’s real and forget the teachings of the old ways. Of course there’re witches. We have very distinct territories from theirs back in Ukraine. They can be … problematic.”

  “My understanding is they help the, uh, humans,” I said, ignoring Hayley’s guffaw and Sara’s hostility.

  “Yes, we have an uneasy truce with them, and human villages are neutral ground,” added Damka.

  “How do you know about witches, Alice?” Hayley asked.

  I reiterated the need for discretion, reminding them that Queen Christina and her court would think I was gathering a secret army. I explained how Shea and I met Gwendolyn over the summer. I filled them in on the wolfsbane accident, to which they all rolled their eyes that we hadn’t known it was poisonous to werewolves.

  “It’s right there in the name,” admonished Sara.

  I also told them that Gwendolyn had helped me relocate to America after I’d been snuck out of the palace by Pierre at the request of my birth father. I swore them all to secrecy for the umpteenth time and told them about the three words that had been translated from the book: witch, werewolf, and vampire.

  Fanya snatched it up, examining it closely. “This is in an Old East Slavic language. It’s similar to Ruthenian…”

  “How do you know that?” Hayley squinted at the foreign language.

  “I’m well-read in many ancient languages. Aren’t all noble werewolves? Of course this one has regional significance for my family. Did you know that originally only royal werewolves were taught to read and write?”

  “Uh, no.” Hayley tried to keep a neutral face. “So can you read this?” She stabbed a finger at the text under a gruesome woodblock print of a man stabbing an upyr in the neck while four others held him down.

  Fanya started sounding out a few syllables and attempted to translate: “‘To strike a death blow, strike from above, angle down sixty degrees with point of’ … something, something … ‘the heart. Alternatively, attack from behind, go up under rib. Placement must be precise and deep to penetrate the’ … something.”

  “Damn girl!” Shea exclaimed, grabbing a pen and paper and thrusting them at her. “Start copying!”

  Fanya laughed. “This would take me all year!”

  “Fanya, you can read it! Please, you have to help us translate it,” I begged.

  Fanya preened at the attention. “Well, if my Queen requests it.” Fanya promised to work on transcribing the book in her spare time. We all agreed to take turns looking over the diagrams during our evening study sessions.

  For a moment, I felt hope stir. We had a plan of sorts and we were making progress. I sent Gwendolyn an update and the few sentences Fanya had transcribed. Who knew what the rest of the text might reveal? Perhaps together we could defeat this upyr threat.

  Chapter 15

  It was early December, and I was leading my junior patrol through the northeast pass. We’d been given permission to scout the outer ridge, only because regular patrols had gone through the area twice before an hour ago. Although it was only around five, twilight had come and gone and the night was settling in for a nap. Our eyes adjusted to the shifting light, and we scouted the ridge to the tree line. We stopped a moment to gaze at the moon. Impulsively, Damka reared back and let out a long howl.

  Sara tried to shush her since we were on patrol and needed to be stealthy. We heard answering calls from far away. I waved a tail at Damka, and she subsided. I felt a wave of apology emanate from her, but I wasn’t mad. I understood the pull of the moon and the need to howl. I grinned a wolf-grin at her, but something caught my eye, making my smile falter. Hayley turned to see what it was and darted towards the dark shape. There, just for a moment near the tree line, something had been startled by our approach.

  I projected at Hayley to wait up, and she slowed but didn’t stop. We all chased after her. Stopping near the trees, we saw a freshly killed deer, bleeding out in the snow. Hayley and Sara sniffed around, trying to catch the scent of the creature that had attacked the deer. It didn’t look like a normal animal kill. In fact, the lacerations on the neck and haunches looked almost human, like claw marks or fingernails. The odor of blood obscured the other creature’s scent. I signaled for my pack to round up and follow me.

  We headed directly to the patrol’s main cabin. Leaving my pack outside, I burst in and shifted into a human halfway through the door. There were half a dozen patrols hanging out by the fireplace. I recognized Olaf and Melinda. I also saw Diego in the corner look up, concerned to see me. In that moment, I remembered my nudity, but none of the patrols batted an eye. Werewolves just didn’t care about nakedness. Still, I grabbed a flannel blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  “There’s a fresh kill on the northeast ridge. We saw a shape and must’ve startled it, because it ran off. But there’s a dead deer and the marks look, well, I don’t know, but they’re not right.” I didn’t want to say what I feared. Last year, I’d been the wolf who cried upyr. This year, someone else could do it.

  Olaf was already on his feet coordinating Sir Henry and Melinda to investigate the scene. Someone was sent to notify Boris and Jack as well as Headmaster Giovanni. Diego approached as the crowd thinned out.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his chocolate eyes warm
ing me more than the blanket or the fire.

  “I’m fine.” I brushed off his concern. “I should get my junior patrol back to campus.”

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to escort you.” He motioned towards the door. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  “But maybe you should be out there?” I questioned. “To protect them in case it’s an upyr?”

  Diego grinned. “You overestimate my ability.”

  “I doubt that. Have you, uh, wolfed-out again?”

  “Nope, but if what you say is true, maybe I can test my theory. Let’s get you back to the manor and I’ll catch up with the others.”

  “Be careful,” I whispered, grabbing his shirt in my fist. “Don’t you dare die on me.” Images of Kulani flashed across my mind’s eye.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied softly, holding my urgent gaze. He disentangled my fingers from his shirt and led me outside. My pack was there, still furry. We shifted into our wolves and led them back to the dorm. Diego shifted into human form, explained to Ms. Grizzle the situation, and told her to put the dorm on lockdown. He glanced back at me, nodded once, then shifted and ran off into the night.

  The next morning, the school was abuzz with the news. Everyone swarmed us at breakfast, demanding we each tell our version of the story. Speculation was running wild. Ms. Grizzle soon put idle chatter to rest, admonishing us for gossip and glaring severely all around. Fanya whispered that Ms. Grizzle’s bun was pulled so tight it made her eyes bug out. We snickered at that but fell silent as Ms. Grizzle swiveled to turn her laser beam gaze at us. I gulped, wondering how good her hearing was. Ms. Grizzle informed us that we weren’t allowed to roam the campus today and were expected to go directly from class back to the dorms. There was a flurry of protests and questions, which she quelled with a glare. Then she added that additional patrols would be roaming campus and anyone caught outside would be severely punished.