Dark of the Moon

by Rachel Hawthorne

  "Hey." He sat behind me and put his arms around me. "Hi, Ms. Reed."

  "Hello, Connor." She patted my arm. "Think it's time for me to go find some folks closer to my age. I brought the car. It's parked about ten miles from here. Find me if you want a lift home."

  I figured she was the only Shifter who had arrived in a car, but then she was the only one with a human daughter.

  "I'll see." I didn't know yet what my plans were. For all I knew, the elders would have me placed under house arrest for impersonating a Shifter.

  "Okay'" Lucas yelled. "No one is left in the building. Everyone stay back. They're ready to demolish the building." He raced toward us. Kayla met him halfway.

  Lindsey wandered over to where Rafe was waiting for her.

  Connor and I stood up to have a better view.

  The series of explosions went off in a timed sequence and the building crumbled into a pile of debris and dust. Somehow after all we'd faced, it seemed…anticlimactic.

  After the vaporous clouds settled, Lucas walked back over to us. "I'm going to send Guardians out to search for Mason and Dr. Keane. Their underlings I'm not too worried about. But the Keanes, we need to find. We can take them to Wolford, hold them prisoner there until the elders decide what to do with them."

  "I'll help you search in a minute," Connor said. "I need to take care of something first."

  Lucas nodded as though he knew what that something was. I was afraid I might, too. That something was me.

  My suspicions were confirmed when Connor turned to me. "We need to talk."

  I nodded. Yeah, we did.

  Taking my hand, he led me away from the others. We walked along silently. On the horizon, the moon was leaving its quarter phase. They hadn't waited for the dark of the moon. Our being captured had sped up their plans, but in the end, it seemed to have all worked.

  I wasn't convinced we'd seen the last of Bio-Chrome but no one else had seemed as obsessed as Mason and Dr. Keane—so maybe we were in the clear. We could always hope, but continue to prepare for the attack. I liked to think that the others were truly in it for the good of mankind, even if their methods were questionable.

  We were at the edge of a clearing near an abundance of trees when Connor finally stopped and turned to face me.

  "Were you serious about wanting to be Mason's guinea pig?" he asked.

  "He wasn't going to return me to the cage. So we made a deal. If he returned me, I'd take the first injection."

  "Why?"

  "Because I wanted to be with you. And I wanted to be a Shifter so bad. I wanted to shift. I wanted to be beautiful."

  "You're already beautiful."

  "Oh, Connor." His words made me happier than I thought I could ever be. But I needed to explain that it was so much more. "You can't understand how much I wanted it. It's hard to let that dream go. To know I'll never—" I reached up and rubbed his bristly cheek. "It won't work with us if I can't shift."

  "We can make it work."

  "Be realistic, Connor. You can shift and be home by dawn."

  "Or I could ride home with your mother."

  I released a strangled laugh. "Yeah, that'll always be your number one choice."

  "I'm not saying there won't be difficulties, but we could work them out. Besides, shifting is overrated."

  With a smile, I pressed my face into the center of his chest. His arms came around me. Was I being a silly dreamer to imagine that we might be able to make this work?

  Placing his knuckles beneath my chin, he tilted my face up. "I told you not to take the injection if you loved me," he said. "Does that mean you love me?"

  "I've loved you for a long time. I wanted to die thinking about you and Lindsey beneath a full moon."

  "You can walk away from those feelings?"

  "If I have to. You deserve a mate. I don't know if I can ever truly be a mate."

  Shaking his head, he gave me a soft grin. "I don't know if I've ever known anyone as strong as you."

  His mouth found mine with unerring accuracy. I wanted to believe that it wasn't so much because he could see in the darkness, but because of something stronger. A bond between us. My mom had talked about falling in love. I couldn't deny that I'd fallen in love with Connor. He'd said he loved me.

  Why was I so afraid to trust the intensity of his feelings? What if one day he looked across a room and felt that jolt that signaled he'd just found his true mate? How would he feel then if he was stuck with me?

  He pulled back. "Do you smell that?"

  "Monique? I'm still wearing her clothes."

  "No…it's"—he inhaled deeply—"Mas—"

  A growl echoed through the air and a heavy weight thudded into us, taking us to the ground.

  It was Mason. His shape was more man than wolf. He was covered in fur. His face was a caricature of a wolfs. It was as though when shifting it hadn't been able to decide exactly what it should be.

  His long fingernails cut grooves down my arm. I yelled, kicked, maneuvered out from beneath him. Connor made his escape as well. He was ditching his clothes as quickly as possible, while I began looking for a weapon. I'd felt Mason's strength. I didn't think my wrestling moves were going to take him out.

  He leaped on my back, crushing me back to the earth. He'd misjudged, though, and overshot his mark because when we landed I was tucked up beneath his chest, which made me beyond reach of his snapping teeth. Growling and snarling, he leveraged himself so he could get to me.

  It was all I needed to position myself so I could toss him off. I scrambled away.

  I heard another growl, this one more menacing, more controlled. I looked back in time to see Connor diving for Mason. They were both brutal in their attempts to take the other down. But there was a madness to Mason that I wasn't sure we could defeat.

  I found a branch on the ground. It was sturdy but too long. I grabbed both ends, put my foot in the middle and jerked up. It snapped in two, giving me what I wanted: a stick the length of both my hands—a stick with a pointed end.

  I hurried over to where Connor and Mason were locked in battle. They were snarling at each other, snapping their teeth. Connor was on top but he couldn't get close enough to the jugular because Mason's absurdly long arms kept him beyond reach.

  Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I prepared myself. Then I swung my leg around and knocked Connor off. Immediately I went to my knee and plunged the stake through Mason's heart.

  He wasn't a vampire, but a stake through the heart will kill practically anything.

  SIXTEEN

  It was sad that in death Mason reverted back to his human form. He looked so innocent, almost sweet. No harshness, no cynicism, no obsession.

  Before Connor shifted back, he had howled into the night but it wasn't a howl of triumph. It was a call to the others. That he'd taken no satisfaction in Mason's death made me love him all the more.

  I didn't know where Kayla had found the blanket but she knelt beside Mason and draped it over his still form. With gentle fingers she combed back his hair. "Find peace, Mason."

  Earlier in the summer they'd been friends. It occurred to me that it was his obsession with the Shifters more than the formula that had destroyed him.

  And that left me to wonder if I was any different. Was I letting my obsession with not being a Shifter destroy what I might have with Connor? Or was I truly being unselfish in my desire to let him go?

  "Found Dr. Keane—or what's left of him," Rafe said, as he and Lindsey joined the group. "Looks like he was Mason's first victim."

  I wanted to believe that Mason hadn't realized he was killing his father, that every aspect of him that was human had disappeared until he was only a beast that he couldn't control.

  "Poor Mason," Kayla said. "I like to think that in the beginning he did want to do something good for mankind. Our healing properties are miraculous."

  "He got greedy," Lucas said, slipping his arms around her. "We can lay him and Dr. Keane to rest at Wolford."

  Sh
e glanced back at him and smiled. "Thank you."

  Holding me close, Connor whispered, "Are you going to be all right? I know the first kill is never easy."

  "He would have killed us if he could have."

  "Still doesn't make it easy."

  "Sorry I kicked you."

  "I'm not. I couldn't have held him off much longer."

  I nestled my face into the curve of his shoulder. "I want to go home."

  My mother hadn't yet left so Connor and I found her. The three of us hiked to her car. When Connor and I started to get in the back she said, "Hey, I'm not a chauffeur. You drive me." She tossed him the keys.

  She sat in the back while I sat in the passenger seat. I think she forced that arrangement so Connor and I wouldn't be snuggling in the backseat. Mom was okay making out with a Spaniard when she was seventeen, but she didn't want her daughter doing anything of the sort.

  Still, Connor held my hand, his thumb sometimes circling my palm, and I wondered what he was thinking during those moments. I still didn't know what I was going to do about us. But I was too exhausted to think clearly. I figured he was as well.

  When we got to the house, Connor pulled into the drive. I tried to get out of the car, but it was like my body didn't want to work. It had grown heavy, weighted down. Or maybe it was just so incredibly tired that it could no longer send messages to my brain.

  "Brittany?" Mom prodded.

  "I'm fine." An easy enough lie to pull off since Connor had come around, opened the door for me, took my hand, and pulled me out.

  I'd forgotten that he was raised in a traditional, well-mannered family that did things like that. I didn't know what I was thinking to fall for him. We had nothing in common.

  With his arm behind me, he practically propelled me up the walk to the door. Mom opened it, then turned around and held up her hand like a traffic cop. "Five minutes."

  She closed the door, leaving us on the dark porch. The light suddenly came on.

  "Has she always been like that?" Connor asked.

  "There's never been a guy in my life before. She's probably making up for lost chaperone time or something. She'll settle down." I had to shove out each word.

  He trailed his fingers along my cheek. "Call me if you need me."

  He bent his head and kissed me so gently that I almost didn't feel it. Then he opened the door and pushed me inside. "Tell your mom she owes me some rollover minutes."

  I released a light laugh as he pulled the door closed. I stood there for the longest time, envisioning him walking home. He didn't live that far. How many times in high school had I detoured by his house after school hoping to catch a glimpse of him?

  I might have stayed there all night if Mom hadn't come over and put her arms around me.

  "Come on. I prepared you a bubble bath."

  "Will you burn Monique's clothes?" I asked as she led me toward the bathroom. "I never want to see them again."

  "Consider it done."

  As I got undressed, I noticed that I'd collected a few more bruises. I had a couple of scrapes but nothing that would scar. The scratches I received when Mason raked his claws over my arm were another matter. They might scar.

  When I sank into the hot water, I thought I'd found heaven. I didn't remember anything feeling so good—except lying against Connor. Even on a concrete floor, curled up against him was wonderful.

  There was a knock on the door. "Brittany, can I come in?"

  "Sure, Mom."

  She handed me a glass of white wine.

  "I'm not twenty-one," I reminded her.

  "Sometimes, my dear, you're older than your birth certificate claims."

  I took a sip. It was sweet and smooth going down my throat. It sent a warm lethargy through my veins.

  Mom knelt beside the tub. "Relax now. I'm going to wash your hair."

  "Mom, you haven't washed my hair since I was about six."

  "I still remember how."

  She poured water over my hair, added shampoo, and began to massage my scalp. I thought I might just sink below the water and sleep forever.

  "So," she began. "You and Connor."

  That was subtle.

  "Maybe. I don't know, Mom."

  "I like him."

  I smiled. "You mean I got the guy thing right on the first try?"

  "It happens."

  "Was my dad your first?"

  "Mm-huh."

  "You've never seen him again?"

  "In my dreams. Every night."

  "Is that enough, Mom?"

  "For me. But I wish more than that for you."

  I wished more than that for me, too.

  After my bath, my hair and skin practically squeaked. I applied some antibiotic cream to the scratches on my arm and bandaged it up. I slipped on soft cotton shorts and a tank, said good night to Mom at my bedroom door—unable to remember the last time we'd actually taken a moment to say it—then crawled into my bed. My body sank into the mattress.

  I tried to close my mind but the events of the past several days were running through it like a slide show. I'd see Connor fighting the cougar, the shock on his face when he learned the truth about me, Mason holding up the syringe…

  The stake. The way it had felt going through his chest—

  I wanted to concentrate on the good moments: Connor kissing me, holding me, defending me…

  But the uglier images kept shutting them out. My chest grew tight and I felt a building up of tears behind my eyes. I felt as though I was strangling.

  I heard a knock on my window. Glancing over, I could see a shadow. I scrambled out of bed and pulled back the curtain. Connor was balanced on a tree branch. I opened the window. "What are you doing?"

  He crawled in through the window. "I've slept with you so many nights that now I can't sleep without you."

  "Seriously."

  "I am serious." He touched my cheek. "I just thought you might need holding tonight."

  Tears flooded my eyes. I shook my head. "I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not—"

  He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed. "It's all right to cry, Brit. It's been a hell of a few days."

  He laid me on the bed, slipped in beside me, and took me in his arms. The tears wouldn't stop, which really made me mad because they were making my nose go all stuffy and I was finding it more difficult to inhale his scent.

  "You smell so good," I said.

  "I showered. Best shower I've ever had."

  I slid my hand up into his hair. The ends were still wet and the strands curled around my fingers.

  "I'm so glad it's all over," I whispered.

  "Me, too. Cry all you want, Brit. It'll be our secret."

  While he rubbed my back, I cried long and hard. Loud sobs were muffled as I buried my face against his chest. All the fear, the terror, the grief from the past few days just built up and flowed out. The times when I'd pretended to be brave had been the hardest of all. The times when I'd tried not to let Connor see how terrified I was of what they might do to him. Or of what he'd think when he learned the truth about me.

  I cried until his shirt was damp and my eyes were swollen.

  I thought I was still weeping when I fell asleep.

  The knock on the door woke me.

  "Okay, you two, breakfast is ready."

  I gasped. I was still in Connor's arms. How had—

  "Don't be so surprised, baby. I have a keen sense of smell."

  I cringed. I knew she'd called me baby just to irritate me.

  Hearing her footsteps on the stairs, I dared to tilt my head back. Connor smiled down on me.

  "Sleeping with a babe and breakfast. What a deal."

  I nipped his chin. "Thanks for last night."

  "I've been there, Brittany. My first kill was a bear. God, he was magnificent, but he was attacking a camper." I could see in his eyes the sadness he was feeling with the memory. "He'd just kinda gone crazy. He wouldn't run off."

  I knew humans probabl
y couldn't understand the grief Shifters felt over the death of an animal, but they were part animal as well, and they grieved at any loss of life.

  "Does it get easier?" I asked.

  "No, but I don't think I'd want it to. If killing came easily then I'd be like the men my father prosecutes."

  I touched his cheek. I almost told him again that I loved him, but I wondered if repeating—confirming—my feelings would make it harder when the time came for us to separate. Instead I kissed him.

  Then we went down to the kitchen.

  "Better not have been anything other than sleep going on in that room last night," Mom said as we joined her at the table.

  "Mom'"

  "There wasn't," Connor assured her.

  With a nod, she passed him the biscuits. I couldn't remember the last time my mom cooked breakfast. We both usually just took care of ourselves.

  "You don't have to make things up to me, Mom."

  "I always cook when we have company. Don't expect this tomorrow."

  "The pancakes are delicious, Ms. Reed," Connor said.

  I narrowed my eyes at him and mouthed, "Suck-up." He winked at me.

  "Thank you, Connor. So what are your intentions regarding my daughter?"

  "Mom' God. That is so…a hundred years ago. People don't ask that anymore."

  "Maybe they should."

  Connor laughed. He was having entirely too much fun. He started to say something, but the doorbell rang.

  "I'll get it," Mom said, dropping her napkin on the chair and heading for the door.

  "I'm so sorry," I said, with a roll of my eyes.

  "Don't worry about it." He tapped his fork against his plate. "So what do you want my intentions toward you to be?"

  "Connor, I—"

  Mom walked in holding a black envelope. She was so pale that I thought maybe she'd left all her blood at the front door.

  "Mom?"

  She jumped, as though startled. "It's for you."

  "Me?" I took it from her. My name was written in elegant gold script. I turned it over. It wasn't an envelope. It was a piece of paper with all four corners folded into the center and held in place with a wax seal of a snarling wolf. I opened it carefully and read what was written inside. Suddenly it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I grew dizzy.