Chapter 10
The rush. The exhilaration of running, of my hands and feet digging into the damp soil of the forest floor, of my heart racing impossibly fast with each powerful stride. I was searching. Looking for something that I could taste just on the tip of my tongue. Something delectable. Something... satisfying.
It was close. I could smell the sickly sweet aroma in the air mixed with the scent of freshly disturbed earth and wet leaves. An almost metallic taste on my tongue. Almost there. My stomach clenched with ravenous hunger. It was so dark and yet I could make out every tree and bush, every single leaf in my path. I could see it all.
The huddle of brown and taupe and black fur stopped suddenly as I eased away from the bushes. Their heads lifted and stared in my direction, masks of red across their eyes and snouts, mouths dripping with something thick and crimson. They waited as I made my way closer to the group, that wondrous aroma getting thicker in my nostrils. Each step found the dirt wetter and wetter, until the earth was saturated in something much warmer than rain. It coated my palms and soles in the reddest red, and dirt clung to my skin possessively.
The wolves in front of me parted, and in the middle of the gathering, on the blood-soaked floor, was... me. At least something deep inside me told me that I was staring at myself, because what lay on the ground was unrecognizable. Honey blond hair was matted with chunks of flesh and tacky blood. Her stomach—my stomach—was torn open. Sinew and entrails ripped apart and strewn along the ground around my body, dark blood glistening in the moonlight as it poured effortlessly from the wound. An arm stretched out across the forest floor limp and appearing lifeless at first, but as I stepped closer it reached up to me, pleading to me.
There was the distinct scent of fear—of blood, too, but mostly fear. The aroma of my terror, of my blood and meat, was intoxicating. It reached every crevice of my being, and I was drunk with the need to feed.
I stared down at the body I had known for so many years and felt... nothing. No sympathy. No regret. No affection. No loss. Just hunger. I looked into the eyes of my former self, wide and smeared with my own blood, and without mercy I lunged and sunk my teeth into my throat. Blood poured like wine into my mouth. Meat melted between my teeth and I ate. I feasted to my heart's content with the wolves around me.
◊ ◊ ◊◊ ◊ ◊
My eyes flew open and I sat straight up in my bed. I’d woken myself with my own screams. My stomach was heavy, the room was spinning, and before I could even manage one linear thought, I was out of bed and running to the bathroom.
The entire contents of my stomach emptied right then and there. I hovered over the toilet bowl, my arms draped over the top, and I swear I could taste blood and raw meat in my mouth. It was thick, and rancid, and the mere thought of it made my stomach tighten and forced me into another heaving fit.
When I was certain the vomiting was over, I splashed my face with some water and brushed my teeth with extreme scrutiny. Even when the taste of vomit was gone, I continued brushing until the taste of blood was a hazy memory. It was the most intense dream I’d ever had. So real, so vivid. I could still feel the dirt between my fingers and toes. Could still feel the exhilaration of the run, of the hunt. The kill.
Thoughts of the wolves in my dream turned to the animal sleeping beside my bed. God, did I even want to look at that thing after the dream I had? I needed to. I know I did, if for nothing else, then to let it out of the apartment.
I peered around my bathroom door and listened for movement. Silence. She was probably still sleeping.
"Wolf?" I called out softly, making my voice as soothing as possible.
My toes flexed over the carpet anxiously, but I found reassurance in the absence of blood-soaked dirt.
The last thing I wanted to do was startle it. What if it was more hurt than I thought? The idea of some poor animal silently dying on my apartment floor, especially one that had gotten hurt helping me, all but broke my heart and gave me the extra push I needed to round the bed, the nightmare long forgotten.
"Wake up, girl," I coaxed as the spot I’d last seen her came into view.
What I saw knocked the wind right out of me.
Naked! There was a naked woman on my floor! How did a naked woman get in my apartment?! Why was there a naked woman in my apartment?! I stared down at the curled up legs, the blond curls running down her back and around her shoulders, thankfully covering the more private bits from view. A white rag was wrapped around her forearm, smeared with dark red smudges.
Oh... fuck.
Not again. My mind railed at the sight of the woman lying where I had left a wolf. God, I had spent so many months trying to convince myself that I was crazy, that this shit couldn't be possible, and then this falls into my lap.
I raised my arms and laced my fingers behind my head while my mind went berserk. Who was she? Why was she here? Well, she was here because I brought her up here, but why had she come? Why protect me? I didn't recognize her as anyone running with Frank’s pack, but if she didn't belong to him then where did she come from?
My foot moved of its own volition and gave a gentle shove to the bottom of her bare foot.
"Hey..."
I tensed, but she didn't move. This time I shoved a bit harder, my panic and confusion fueling the anger slowly building inside of me. I hated being clueless. With another rough kick, I repeated, "Hey! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!"
The woman flailed, her curls hanging over her face and body as she swiveled around and got to her feet in a strangely graceful movement. She flung herself back against the bedside table, knocking my lamp over and busting the bulb. Fantastic. She just cost me six bucks, gave me a strong compulsion to shampoo my carpet and... Wait, is she growling at me?
I snatched the duvet from my bed and tossed it violently at her very exposed body.
"I don't know why you're in my house, or who sent you here, but get the fuck out before I shoot you in your bare ass!"
"Harley..." A soft, scared voice squawked out from behind the blanket.
My head pounded, my stomach was still tight from the very generous vomiting moments before, and I had just found a naked chick in my room. My eyes locked on the blond hair peeking out from the top of the blanket as she clutched it not only to her body but to her face as well.
I waited for her to say something else, but she stayed silent.
"Who the h—" But my interrogation turned into stunned silence as two very large, very blue, eyes appeared from behind the blanket through the mess of blond curls.
"Liz?" I could barely squeeze the name out of my throat.
"I'm sorry Harley." Her voice was strained, holding back the emotions that kept trying to force its way out with each syllable. "I didn't want you to see me like this. I had hoped—"
I held a hand up at her, silencing her. I couldn't speak.
"Harley," Liz whispered. I answered her with a step backwards.
"Harley," she repeated a little louder.
"No. No, not you. Not you, Liz," A sense of utter betrayal hit me like a punch in the gut. I kept moving away from her, and she stepped toward me. "Don't," I snapped, my throat tight. "Don't come near me."
"Harley! Please, stop and listen to me!"
I stopped at the front of the small hallway and stared at Liz standing in my bedroom door with her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she stared back at me, a complete mess from head to toe. We stood motionless in a long stretch of heavy silence.
My eyes dropped to her forearm, wrapped in the bloody bandage I'd put on the wolf last night. Her eyes followed suit before she moved her arm slowly behind her back, her eyes locked on her feet, and that was when I noticed the red smeared at the side of her neck too. It wasn't as dark as the blood on the rag, but lighter like it had stained her skin. Skin that was completely unbroken.
"I didn't mean for you to find out like this," she hesitated.
"Find out what? That you've be
en lying to me this whole time? That you've been spying on me? What, Liz? What didn't you want me to find out?" My voice grew louder with each word, the emotional floodgate inside me starting to crack and crumble away.
A soft sob broke from her throat, and she covered her face with her hands. This was hard for her, that much I could see, but I didn't feel anything but rage. I couldn't.
She lifted her face from her hands, the tip of her tongue darting nervously over her upper lip. She couldn't look at me. That was fine with me. Quite honestly, I didn't want to look at her either.
"What the fuck are you, Liz?" I demanded.
She winced like I'd hit her. I could see the struggle within herself as my words seared her. A small part of me hurt for bringing such a stricken look to her eyes, but I was pissed and hurt, too. I didn't know what was real and what was a lie anymore.
"The term," she whispered, so softly that I actually had to move closer to really hear her, "is werewolf."
It started off slow, quiet. A whispery titter of sound bubbled in my throat and rose into a full on assault before I could choke it down. I laughed good and hard, the tension breaking from my chest, the corners of my eyes getting wet.
I don't know why I laughed. Maybe it was the only way my brain could cope. Maybe all of the stress and restless nights I’d endured since Frank revealed what he really was finally caught up with me. Whatever the reason, I completely lost it; laughing myself to tears until my brain shut that shit off so abruptly the sudden return of oxygen made me swoon and catch myself on the doorframe.
I forced out a deep, calming breath and moved across the room to sit on my bed. I sat on the edge and folded myself in half placing my head between my knees. I was disoriented, so blown away by Liz's confession that I couldn't even stand upright. Even though the words came from someone I trusted completely, my brain was in full mutiny mode. It downright refused it.
This dear girl, who had never given me any reason to distrust her before, was telling me that she was the animal I had bandaged and cared for last night. She was one of the monsters that had haunted me for nearly a year. Even with everything we had been through together, my brain was calling her a liar and a fraud and every insulting name in the book.
"You're screwing with me. Right?" I finally managed, though my voice was slightly muffled. "Please tell me you broke into my apartment this morning, took the wolf out of here, and set this up to fuck with me. Tell me this is a cruel, sadistic joke."
My pleas were met with tense silence. I lifted my head from my knees and stared across the room at Liz who was now, wearing a t-shirt and pair of shorts from my dresser. I hadn’t even heard her move.
"Lizbeth," I stated more sternly, using her given name for probably only the third time since knowing her. "Tell me that I'm crazy. Please."
"You're not crazy," she said.
She curled up on the window seat in my bedroom and drew her knees to her chest. Her thin arm wrapped tightly around them holding on as if it was the only thing keeping her from running away in shame.
"How?! You tell me how it is even remotely possible that you... that you're a..." I couldn't say it. It stuck to the roof of my mouth like a fat glob of peanut butter. No matter how much I tried to force it I only spread it around making it more difficult to get it out.
She rested her forehead on the tops of her knees, her shoulders shuddering ever so slightly. Was she crying? I don't think I had ever seen Liz actually cry before, and it disarmed me almost immediately. I got to my feet on pure instinct and made my way over to her, sitting next to her on the bench and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"Hey... I'm sorry," I said and instantly couldn't believe I was the one apologizing.
She mumbled something I couldn't hear, and I swallowed down that small lump of anger that wanted me to snap at her to speak up. Instead I just waited. I forced myself to practice patience with her because, even if I was angry and confused, Liz appeared to be having a serious struggle within herself. I could practically smell the pain and shame oozing from her every pore.
After a few brief moments of contemplative silence, she lifted her forehead from her knees and rested her chin in its place. A soft breath blew from the small 'o' her lips had formed and she swallowed hard.
"I am an honest-to-God, howling, furry, dangerous, two-natured creature of the night. A monster."
I stared at her a good long moment, waiting to see if she was going to continue and hoping my brain was going to catch up sometime soon. My first instinct was to laugh, but I didn't want to laugh in her face again. Not when she had such a pained look in her eyes. Instead, I decided to ignore the anger, for the time being, and forced myself to be the calm and collected one.
Fuck, when did that happen?
"You're not," I said, barely convincing myself. "I don't know what you are, but I could never call you a monster. You're just... Liz." Maybe if I said it out loud I would start to believe it myself.
Now it was Liz that was laughing, but something dark coiled around the sound. Something bitter, cold, and defeated. It felt like tiny blades cutting at my heart. I never wanted to hear anything like that coming from my dearest friend.
"You really don't know anything about me, Harley."
"Okay, fine. You're right. We've only been friends for... what... almost a year? Obviously, I don't know a damn thing about you. So tell me. How long have you been a werewolf?"
Liz blinked at me, her jaw slack. I guess she wasn't sure where I was headed with that, or if I was biding my time until I could hurt her, but eventually she shifted in her seat and glanced down at her toes.
"My whole life. I was born like this."
"I thought werewolves became werewolves from bites or something," I recited my oh-so impressive understanding of storybook werewolves.
"Well, they can," she hesitated, wringing her fingers, "but I was born a wolf."
"Alright." I nodded and stood up, crossing my arms and turning to look down at her. "So you've been a werewolf the entire time I've known you. You're pretty damn good at hiding it."
Silence.
"Do you change at the full moon?"
"Yes."
"Well, that will make work difficult for you, won't it? I don't know if many of the men that come in are into bestiality."
She made a face of absolute revulsion. A little piece of me, deep inside, found relief at her reaction. That same part of me was ashamed at being so harsh toward her, but what was I to do? I was trying to cope.
"Last night wasn't a full moon," I said with a flat stare.
"I change on the full moon. I can also change whenever I feel like it. It's just that I don't have a choice when the moon is full. It pulls the wolf out of me, whether I want it to or not. Any other time I can shift at will or," she hesitated, "sometimes I can't help it."
I stared at her as she went on, unsure of what to say to her or if I should even say anything. When I realized she wasn't going to continue I let out a soft sigh.
"Okay, fine. So yesterday you shifted, and this morning you shifted back. On my floor," I remembered the rag around her arm, just like the one I had used on the wolf's injured leg.
"Let me see your arm."
Liz sighed and held it out but hid her face in her shoulder. I tentatively reached for the soiled cloth. The blood was dry, the cloth brittle. My fingers worked the knot clumsily, afraid of what I might uncover. When the ends of the rag were finally freed, I quickly unwrapped her forearm.
I don't know what I expected to see. For a minute, when my guard was lowered, I thought I was going to find the bite marks I had seen last night, but that's not what I saw. The skin was tinged red, and was damp. Indentions from the rag were a purplish color, giving her skin a weird ripple effect, but other than that the skin was unmarred and flawless. It was whole. Not even a scratch.
I released that apprehensive breath that stuck in my chest and dropped her arm suddenly, pushing it away from me.
"I could have t
old you. I heal when I shift back..."
"Oh, of course," I gave an exasperated laugh. "How convenient."
"Well, if you want to know the truth, it is. It is pretty damn convenient. You know what would be inconvenient? Bleeding to death," she snapped.
My eyes met hers, and it was like two stubborn forces slamming into one another. Part of me wanted to tell her to get out and just leave me alone. I was through with games—had been since Frank—and all this was doing was making me more and more angry with each passing moment. The rest of me wanted to hold her hand and tell her everything was okay. I didn't understand that. I was the wronged party here. So, why did I feel the overwhelming urge to take care of her?
"Are you hungry?" I found myself asking without thinking.
She blinked up at me in complete bewilderment, "What?"
"Food. Werewolves still eat, right?" The word formed a knot in my throat. "I mean I'm not about to find you some roadkill or anything but..." I trailed off, realizing how mean I was being. If I needed further proof of that, looking at her hurt eyes drove the truth home. "I don't know how to react to this right now, Liz. I just don't."
She used her fingers to comb her hair up into a ponytail and grabbed a hair tie off of my dresser, her face tight and eyes distant. The tension in the room was heavy, a pressing weight on my shoulders threatening to crush me if I didn't do or say something, but I couldn't. I didn't want this conversation to continue.
"Okay," she said finally. "Let's just get some food."
I tried to force myself to smile at her but barely managed. With a quick nod, I went and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, slipped on my own flip flops, tossed her a spare pair, and grabbed my purse. Maybe after we got some food in our stomachs I would be able to wrap my head around this.
Though, something told me things weren't ever going to be normal again.
Breakfast was awkward. Neither one of us talked about that morning's events, but then again, neither of us said a word to one another aside from asking to pass the Sweet N' Low. So many questions built inside me, but I refused to re-ring that bell. Not yet.
We ate in deafening silence, barely looking at each other, before I took my leave. I had classes all day and I was back on stage later at work. It would all just have to wait. Maybe if I took a little time to myself, I could figure out what to do.
I wanted to go back to thinking I’d been crazy this whole time, and what I had witnessed a year before was a mental breakdown of some sort. I wanted to laugh and smile at my best friend and mean it. Most importantly, I wanted to know why this had caught up to me again. I needed to know if she had sought me out or if it was unlucky coincidence.
I paid both of our bills while Liz was finishing her food and left. I don't think I had ever left her without saying goodbye, but I couldn't talk to her right now. Maybe, by the time work came around, I'd be ready to delve deeper into this. Could I ever be truly ready?
Deny the Moon Page 18
