Black Moon (8 page)

“Candra?”

Again my thoughts are interrupted. Murky energy courses through me. All I want right now is to rip her throat out and eat, eat, eat. In response, I emit a warning—a do-not-come-near-me-again growl. But the cautionary measure does not work.

“Candra, it’s me Jana. You’re still chained up, but you should be through this phase by morning.”

I do not have until morning,
I think. Why am I chained up? This does not make sense. I tug and pull at the chains, grunting at the exertion it causes me. Why is this so tough?

Help! They will not let me go! Help me! Somebody . . . Anybody . . .

The heavens open wide and send me a fallen angel; a hallucination of the night breaks through the ground-level windows, shattering them, leaving more strewn glass in its wake.

I’m going to get you out,
a male voice says in my mind. I might otherwise be vexed by this, but his voice is a soothing calm in a violent storm. So, I overlook his angered tone and accept his offer.

Hurry, then. I need to be freed.

Others come through the windows. A standoff ensues in the dank dungeon these people dare keep me hostage in. Two of the newcomers are human, one of which sidesteps to me and, with magic like I have never witnessed before, unclasps my metal hold without touch.

Run!
yells my hero.
Get out while we have their backs against a wall!

These poor people . . . A tether in my belly twists, pitying them. They do not seem harmful; they actually seem pretty timid. As they shift into one of us, though, I realize I was wrong. They are willing to fight.

“Don’t touch her!” calls one of the female humans. Curious that she does not shift like the others. Perhaps she cannot?

I shake my head.
Hold them off to give me some time.

Of course
, answers the male voice. I have no idea who he is or why he aids me so, but I am eternally grateful.

I leap off a table against the wall and catch myself on the windowpane, pulling my body up and nearly through the hole. Claws dig into my legs, jerking me back down. I scramble to find my bearings and let my vision adjust. Against the bright moon, everything is kissed by its light. But in here, away from the dreamscape, I am left with nothing but shadows.

Fur clashes with more fur in a wild romp of breathtaking hostility. Teeth bared, both sides snap and rake at another’s throat. Yelps surmount the ruckus, and lighted bolts of magic bounce across the room. I back myself away, hoping to have a second chance at escape.

“You had the opportunity to tell her,” says a woman on the side who rescued me. She hasn’t changed, either. “But you took too long. Now she’s ours.”

“No!” cries the woman in the opposite region, by the stairwell. “We were going to tell her tomorrow, after she’s had her rest.”

The werewolves have stopped their fighting. Most of the opposing side is injured—an obvious victory for the side I am on.

“It’s too late.
Candra’s
been harboring a secret of her own from all of you.” This causes the entire room to shift focus, eyes on me. “Pity you wasted your time trying to keep her safe. All of it was for nothing.”

Again with this Candra name. This is something that needs to be addressed.

Leave now, while you can,
says the voice. One of the werewolves stares directly at me, and I can only assume he is the source.

As two of the others help me through the window and outside, I can still hear that woman in the cellar; her voice coils through the air and into the night: “Not my Candra!” In another time, I might have possessed some inkling of sorrow for this woman who has lost a dear loved one. But I cannot forgive these people for my capture.

When all of us reach a clearing in the wood, I linger behind. The moon above shines down, illuminating my all-white fur. The one who saved me steps forward, his coat as dark as the sky, motioning with his head for the others to continue on. Humorous that his fur resembles the black heavens, and I the moon which rests upon them.
 

Thank you for saving me from those people
, I tell him.
What is your name, wolf?

Benjamin, but you can call me Ben.

I will call you Benjamin, if you do not mind. Now, tell me, why am I here? And where is
here
exactly?

You’re not going to believe anything I tell you, but I know someone you can trust. He says he knows you, and he has to be the one to fill you in on what’s going on.

What? Who is he?

Candra, listen to me—

My name is not Candra! Why does everyone insist on calling me that?

Because you are in Candra Lowell’s body. I know this is tough for you to accept, but there’s something I need to know before we catch up to the others, something I need to confirm. What is your name?

If I could sigh to show how exasperated I am with this man, I would.

My name is
Daciana
.

Chapter Six

“
I
t’s true, all of it!” Benjamin announces as he bounds through the front door. This family has a stash of clothing buried deep in the heart of the wood near their residence, and I happily took a couple of pieces to cover myself before we arrived. “
Daciana
is her name!”

“Is it now?” someone in the crowd before us asks.

I would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Alaric. I should have known.” I maintain an even tone, unwilling to show him any sign of my distaste.

“So many years,
Daciana
. So much has changed.”

I laugh, cold and menacing. “I doubt
you
have. You never will.”

He smiles, but the mirth does not reach his eyes. “Tell me, do you know what’s happened to you?”

“I know I’m in a girl’s body, and no one has informed me why.”

Alaric motions for me to sit in what looks to be a sitting area. The room is dark, with little moonlight peering around the curtains. Portraits of family members, possibly previous relatives who have since passed, adorn the walls above a lengthy seat. I am wary of Alaric, but not so much the people who came to my aid. They were caring to do so. Alaric, however, always harbors alternative plans.

When I sit, Alaric asks, “What’s the last memory you recall?”

An easy question with an easy answer. “I remember you binding my soul, and that of
Ulric’s
, to an eternity in the Otherworld. There, we were to wait until the moment arises when we’d be together again, albeit in someone else’s form.” Glancing around the room, I realize any one of these men could be my
Ulric
. “Is he here? One of them, perhaps?”

“He is,” affirms Alaric, “but his soul is bound to remain silent until we allow him to speak.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by this?”

“We’ve placed a spell on him, just like we’re about to place a spell on you. Your soul fights to gain control over the body you’re in, and we can’t have that.”

“Why not? You promised he and I would be together again.” I stand and march toward him. He never stirs from my advance. “You promised,” I hiss in his face.

Tenderly, he pushes me away. “
Daciana
, please. There is no need to be angry with me. I told you both then that when the timing is right, you will be together. Unfortunately, now is not the time.”

“I have waited an eternity already. You cannot take this away from me—from
us
! You invidious, bitter man! You stole our
life
together. What gives you the right to take it away again?”

His eyes glow like burnt gold as he brings his face level with mine. “Because I have the power to.”

This is a moment when I should hold my tongue, when I know nothing I say or do will change his mind, but I cannot return to the Otherworld. The place is colorless, smells of damp air . . . and I would be alone again. No
Ulric
, just me. Even in the afterlife I am reserved from my love.

“What else are you withholding?” I glance back and forth between Alaric and the others. Most of them do not hold my gaze, save for one. Benjamin catches my eyes with his and does not release his grip; it is almost enough to steal my breath. “It is you,” I say to him. “You are my
Ulric
.”

“Now,
Daciana
—”

I cut off Alaric and move toward Benjamin. “Oh, my love. We can finally be together again. Just you and I. No more wandering through the darkness when we are together.” I throw myself at Benjamin, embracing him, caressing his face—anything to bring my
Ulric
to the surface in his transitory body.

Benjamin steadily unclasps my arms from around him. “I don’t know you. I’m sorry,” he says, remorse in his eyes. “I know Candra, not you.”

Realizing what Alaric has done to
Ulric
, that he is trapped in Benjamin’s body and cannot return to me, I circle around to face Alaric. Unfortunately, because he is an Ancient and much too quick for me—or anyone, really—this is a losing battle. The spell is cast before I touch him. My soul, though bound to this temporary body, is shrinking to the deepest recesses of this form, unable to take hold of anything.
Her
thoughts are current. Mine are just memories. And once again, I am in my own, private Hell; so close to being with my
Ulric
, yet we could not be further apart.

~*~

Grogginess fogs my mind. My eyelids feel weighted and are slow to open. This also means I’m alive, that I made it through the transformation. This is a good thing.

“She’s waking,” someone says.

I smile because I made it through the night.

“Do
not
touch her,” says an angry voice. I know that tone. I know him! It’s Ben.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Like you could actually stop me.” Oh, shit—Cameron.

I struggle with my eyes, to
force
them open, and to make my weak limbs work. I’m not at home; I’m at the Conway’s. Inside their living room. Lying on their couch. Most of their faces are within view, but some aren’t.

“Well, what a surprise,” purrs Mrs. Conway now that I’m fully awake. “Glad to see you’re back. I must say, you had an eventful night.”

Bolting upright and scrambling to one corner of the couch, I put as much distance between them and me. “What am I doing here? What’s going on?”

“You don’t remember?” Mrs. Conway asks mockingly.

I shake my head. Of course I don’t remember; I’m not supposed to during my first transformation.

She
tsks
me. “Such a shame. You missed out on all the fun.”

I stare at Ben. “What’s she talking about?”

Reaching for words that aren’t there, he falls on, “It’s a long story.”

“And he’ll have plenty of time to tell you all about it,” Mrs. Conway adds in a sugared tone. “You’ll be here for a little while. Might as well make yourself feel at home.”

“Home? Are you kidding me?” I snort. “I will never—”