Black Moon (19 page)

What do you want me to do, Jana? I’m a little busy at the moment.

I’m fine, guys. Really,
I say.
If I can lose the first, then I can beat the second with no problem.

 
Yeah, right. I can barely hold my ground with the one. By the time I’m finished with him, I won’t have any strength left for the other guy. With one hasty glance, I realize none of us are sufficiently conditioned, not to skirmish with everything we have.

This is going to be a long night.

The Follower on top of me nips the skin at my neck; my paws push him off long enough that he can’t wholly bite me. Just when I think I have him under control, his tag-team buddy decides he wants in. I sense this isn’t going to play out so well, not without help, anyway—which I don’t have.

Damn. We’re really in over our heads this time.

Out of the blue, the Follower on top of me is picked off in midair, thrown like a ragdoll, and then rolls several feet before coming to a halt, motionless. I look up and see a coat blacker than the night sky, silky and full, and a pair of golden eyes burning into mine. Under careful judgment, I realize they aren’t hostile or goaded like the other Followers. And there’s something about this one’s fur . . .

This black-coated werewolf receives a rough snarl from the tag-team werewolf to my right, but Blackie returns the gesture with a warm, threatening growl—one that sends shivers the length of my spine. Tag-teamer’s demeanor amends and he runs over to check on his friend, who still hasn’t moved.

I remember now . . . the way he looked staring down at his mom from the roof of his car, fully shifted. But why hasn’t he spoken, said
something
?

I stand up on all fours, shaking off the dirt and dead leaves. Looking at Ben, there’s a fear in his eyes, one that wasn’t there before. He whimpers, shifting his weight from paw to paw, urgent. Frantic, even. Oh, Ben, I wish we had the ability to communicate.

What have they done to you?

It’s clear he can’t hear me, so there’s no reason to press on with an exchange. He closes the two-foot distance between us and begins licking my snout. I pull away, but he continues, eventually stopping and pressing the top of his head to my side, pushing me. But why? Is this a warning?

I don’t have time to consider this, as Blake chooses this moment to save me. Apparently, he missed the substitute of Ben for the two Followers, so, to him, Ben just looks like another adversary. Blake tackles Ben, tearing into his haunch. Ben emits a high-pitched howl, but, with the way Blake has him pinned, is unable to fight back.

Blake, stop! It’s Ben!
I shriek.

Blake glares up through lowered lids.
Doesn’t matter. He’s still our enemy.

But who is your
real
enemy, Candra lovely?
Daciana’s
soothing voice is like Aloe Vera on a burn. She’s been silent through this disorder, so I’m surprised she bothers to speak her opinion at all. Her question arrives at a fitting time, too, one that has me choosing between my friend and my soul mate.

Ben isn’t fighting back; it’s evident he didn’t come here for that. But Blake picks him apart, relentless in his quest. Inside me the familiar oomph—the one which steps forward when Ben’s in harm’s way—has now surfaced. There’s no escaping what I’ll feel if Ben is lost. A wilting, grave emotion weighs on my heart, and I know what
Daciana’s
statement means.

I have to stop him.

Charging straight ahead, I jump onto Blake, prohibiting him from taking another taste of Ben. My Ben. Blake’s eyes widen in shock, but then darken, concealed by betrayal.

Traitor!
he screams.
You have no right!
He snaps to his feet.

And you don’t have one either!
I retort.
He was trying to warn me about something, and then you attacked him. Can’t you see he doesn’t want to fight you?

Get out of my way, Candra.
Blake’s lips pull back over his teeth in a sneer, meant as a warning, but I refuse to budge.

Blake darts around me, aiming straight for Ben’s neck. I howl in aggravation and move to stop him, but he’s too fast. Even with all of my prior training, Blake’s just more experienced.

NOOOOO!
I screech.

The world stops. I can move, but everything else is frozen in mid-action. Blake is inches away from seriously injuring Ben, my parents are fighting more Followers than they can handle, and Jana is lying on her back, impaired and struggling to get up. In the distance, more Followers are paused by trees, followed by the Conway’s and Alaric on foot.

Ben was trying to get me out of here before they arrived.

Use it to your advantage, Candra,
says
Daci
.
Do you want your love to live or not?

This otherwise might be an easy question, but my family and friends are warring, too. I can’t just leave them behind.

Can I get him out of here and then return?

It’s your power. You can do with it as you so desire.

I tap Ben and he stirs, looking up at me. Motioning with my head, I tell him to follow. He whines, his breath exiting in rapid pants. Then, sluggishly, he rises. I don’t know where I’m taking him. I
do
know that he needs medical attention, and there’s a single residence which comes to mind.

If I can get him there before my power breaks . . .

We traipse through all-too-familiar neighborhoods and business areas, everyone and everything suspended. Leaves fall off trees, but haven’t reached the grass below. Cars are mid-way through intersections and green lights. A woman waters her yard, while a dog pees on her rose bushes. All the while, she’s oblivious.

A sidelong gaze toward Ben tells me he’s getting worse, which means I have to hurry. His head hangs, snout not quite touching the pavement. Legs wobbling, he barely has the strength to walk three feet, let alone an entire block or more.

Hang on, Ben,
I think to myself, knowing he can’t hear me.
We’re almost there.

Catching sight of the street sign, I recognize we’re headed in the true direction. Won’t be long before he’s safe with her, the one person I can rely on, the one who helped me through so much a few months ago.

Nearing the unkempt house, I can only pray that she’s home. Why won’t she be? She’s not one to leave her abode; everyone who knows her, knows that. Her yard is overgrown with weeds, fallen branches and trash people have discarded, thinking the place is abandoned.

I nuzzle Ben on our way up the driveway, hoping he’ll notice where we are, hoping he’ll make it the last leg of our journey. We’re so close now. If he does recognize this residence, his eyes don’t betray his thoughts. He’s in too much pain, I imagine.

Two of the wooden boards on her front porch are missing, and there’s the usual burnt sage aroma, so strong I can smell it out here. Glancing back at Ben, he hasn’t made it past the first step. His head droops even lower now, and his soft whine is barely heard. Turning to the front door, I press my snout against it, shoving. It creaks open without resistance. I meander through the foyer and into the kitchen to my right. There, busying herself with cooking and tying herbs is the woman I came to see. She’s my final tactic. I’d never ask her to get involved, and she would never agree to, but this is a life or death situation. Surely she’ll see that.

Without even so much as a glimpse of me, and in her normal, rough voice, she says, “No, no, and no again. How many times do I have to tell you I won’t do it? I am not to be bossed about in my own damn house!” She stabs a potato with a knife. Swiveling my way, her eyes widen when she see me for the first time. Did she actually
not
envision my arrival? That’s a surprise.

Since I can’t physically speak in werewolf form, I howl.

She grunts. “What’re you doing here?” With a snap of her fingers, I’m on two feet instead of four, human again.

“Hey, Maggie,” I say. “We need your help.”

Chapter Thirteen

M
aggie is unwilling to aid us, at first, but then, because she has a heart of gold underneath her gruff exterior, she changes her mind. She transforms Ben back to his human form like she did me, and we drag him inside, to the same bedroom I stayed in a few months ago. His wounds are deep—Blake really did a number on him—but Maggie says it’s nothing she can’t fix. Apparently, a little salve and a lot of rest will go a long way.

“How long before he fully heals?” I ask.

“Eh. A few days. His injuries are borderline severe.” She finishes rubbing the last of her homemade remedy on his cuts and scrapes, then leaves the two of us alone.

“I’m glad you came for me,” I tell him once Maggie’s out of range. “I was afraid you’d never speak to me again after the incident with Ali. Thank you.” I know he can’t hear me, but it’s worth a shot at his subconscious. Unfolding a quilt lying across the end of the bed, I drape it across his body, tucking him in. I softly kiss his forehead, and then wander back into the kitchen, where Maggie hobbles between preparing dinner and gathering herb bundles.

“Thanks, Maggie. I owe you.”

She replies, “Don’t thank me, child. You’re the one who has to take care of him now. It’s not my job.”

I nod. “Of course, but I have to go take care of something first.”

She narrows her eyes. “I won’t be bothered with this boy, if that’s what you think. I did my part.”

“No, I know. But my family and friends need me right now. After I help them, I’ll return.” She grunts in response, so I add, “Promise.” Closing the short distance between us, I throw my arms around her neck.

Maggie, caught off-guard, says, “Go on. Get out of here.” She practically swats me out of her house like I’m an insect. Deep down, though, I feel her smile.

~*~

Nothing has moved in the clearing since my absence, not even Alaric, which surprises me. Shouldn’t he be able to maneuver around all powers?

I dodge Followers, careful they avoid my touch. I don’t want them caught in the present with us. The only way my family and friends will survive this ordeal is if I get them out of here, individually. So, I tap them like I tapped Ben. It takes them a moment to realize they’re not in combat anymore, and another moment before they realize everyone
but
them is suspended in time.

It’s happened?
Mom asks, eyes wide.

Obviously.
I smirk.
By the way, I don’t know how long my powers will last. Haven’t really mastered them yet.
I motion toward the Conway’s and Alaric, and even more Followers, marching in our direction, legs and arms and paws frozen at odd angles.
We should get out of here. Fast.

Good idea,
murmurs Blake.

They bolt from the clearing. I turn around, scanning the area to make sure I didn’t leave anyone behind. With the coast clear, I dash for home. Blake and Jana stay behind to watch my back, just in case, while the others check the path ahead.

Screw this. I’m shifting,
I say, but as soon as I transform, a heavy feeling presses against my chest, as if energy sifts through my skin and vaporizes in the air. Gone. The only logical conclusion is that, since I’ve transformed, I no longer have access to my power. Which means those behind us have approximately five seconds to process they’re fighting no one.