All Hallows' Moon (14 page)

The tug of the moon wasn’t as persistent underground. Rylie almost thought it wouldn’t be able to reach her and that she wouldn’t have to change.

Almost.

Seth fought to shove the door shut once he reached the surface, but it was much harder without Rylie’s help. No matter how he pushed and pulled and strained at it, he couldn’t make it budge.

The timer on his watch beeped. It was time.

He glanced up at the sky, wishing he had Abel’s ability to sense the motion of the new moon. Would Rylie be starting to change, or had she already become the werewolf and begun moving toward him?

He didn’t want to find out. He groaned as he threw his weight into the door, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his heels into the dirt.

“What are you doing?”

Seth froze. He knew that voice.

He muttered a silent prayer before turning around.

“Hi, Mom,” he said.

If Eleanor was frightening in the middle of her process, she was a complete nightmare on a moon. She stood four inches taller than him in combat boots with her hair pulled into a knot that made her face look like it was blown back by the wind. The rifle in her hands suited her like another appendage. Silver ammo hung from her belt.

And the look she gave Seth dripped with suspicion.

Abel loomed behind her. His broad-shouldered form would have been easy to mistake for a bear.

He realized she was waiting for him to answer her question. “Hunting,” Seth said. “I’m… hunting.” He moved his body to block the crack in the door, trying to discreetly shift his weight against it, but it was still stuck. “What are you doing here?”

His explanation seemed to satisfy Eleanor. She noted his lack of weapons and drew a pistol from her thigh holster, handing it to Seth. He checked the cartridge. It was loaded with homemade silver bullets, too.

“We’re hunting too. Abel’s been tracking the wolf’s smell. He picked it up at the Gresham farm.”

Seth looked over in time to see Abel slip a gray box into his pocket. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. It was his brother’s GPS receiver, which let him track the anti-theft devices he’d installed on his motorcycle and Chevelle. He hadn’t sniffed out Rylie. He had known Seth would go see her and followed them to her hideout.

“Good sense of smell,” Seth said.

Abel met his gaze without blinking. “Good thing we got here in time. You could have been hurt.”

Eleanor didn’t notice the silent conversation passing between her sons. She pushed Seth aside to look in the mine. “What’s this? Is that where it’s hiding?”

“I thought it might be a good place for the werewolf to use as a den, but I didn’t find anything. I was closing it up so I wouldn’t get caught trespassing.”

Abel knew him too well. His eyes sharpened. “Let’s take another look.”

“No!”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“Uh…” He thought fast. “It’s condemned.”

“I’m disappointed, Seth. A werewolf would have no interest in a mine. There’s not enough prey. Let’s get out of here before we’re found,” she said, and Abel looked like he was on the verge of exploding.

“Mom—” he began.

And then a noise echoed from the mine.

It wasn’t much of a noise. They probably wouldn’t have even noticed it under normal circumstances. It was a distant dragging sound, like hauling a heavy sack across the cement, and it faded within a second.

But it was one sound too many from an abandoned mine.

Eleanor and Abel exchanged looks.

“Shut the door,” Seth said as a second dragging sound echoed form the earth. He didn’t have to see what was happening to imagine a bloody, newly-changed werewolf pulling herself up the stairs. It wouldn’t be Rylie down there. It would be something else entirely. “Shut the door!”

“Why—?”

“Just do it!”

His mom looked surprised enough by his change in attitude that she didn’t stop him when he shoved her aside and grabbed the handle, hauling with all his strength.

The sliding changed to the padding sound of paws, and then a growl.

A very close growl.

Seth pulled one more time, but it was too late. White fur flashed in the darkness. Eleanor lifted her rifle.

And then Rylie leaped out of the mine.

A huge, furred body struck him, and his leg gave out. He hit the ground. The pistol skittered out of his hand.

“Shoot it!” Eleanor shouted.

He had never seen a werewolf move as fast as Rylie. She was a white-gold blur darting through the night. She snarled and snapped at Abel, who jammed his rifle in her mouth just in time to keep her jaws from closing on his face.

Throwing her to the ground, he tried to bring his gun to bear, but Rylie jumped at him again before he could collect himself.

Black blood cascaded down his shoulder as she ripped free of him. Shreds of his skin dangled between her teeth. Abel roared and collapsed.

“Stop!” Seth yelled.

She crouched over Abel and glared at him. Her gold eyes were like twin full moons. Did she recognize him? He couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t willing to bet on it enough to make a move for his brother.

Eleanor turned at an angle to get the wolf in her sights without endangering Abel.

Rylie burst into motion when she fired.

For a terrifying motion, he was sure she had been hit. But when Rylie landed, she shifted direction and bounded toward the fence, scaling it in an instant.

She rushed into the hills beyond, completely unfazed. Eleanor must have missed.

Spinning, Seth’s mom fired a half dozen shots into the darkness, but Rylie was already gone. “Dammit!” she swore, punching a fist into the air.

Seth scrambled to Abel’s side. He was curled into a ball and his face twisted with pain. Pushing him onto his back, Seth found his brother’s skin sweaty and ashen. Abel had his hands jammed against the wound, and he could almost fit his entire fist in it.

With a chill, Seth recalled that horrible night when his brother had first been bitten by a werewolf. What would a second bite do to him?

“Stay with Abel,” Eleanor commanded. “I’m going after that thing.”

“I don’t think I can get him home alone, Mom,” he called. When she didn’t turn, he got to his feet. “Mom!”

She slung her rifle over her shoulder and scaled the fence.

Seth was torn. Abel was bleeding and groaning on the ground. He might be fine—but he also might not. Rylie was out there with Eleanor, and he wasn’t sure who he would bet on if they came face to face again.

He couldn’t face Abel alone. Praying that Rylie’s speed was greater than his mom’s wits, Seth hauled his brother to his feet.

“Let’s get you home.”

Twelve

Golden Hair

“Ouch! Watch it!”

“Shut up and stop being a sissy,” Seth said.

Abel sat on the kitchen counter, hunched forward so his head wouldn’t bump the cabinets. The family first aid kit was open on their kitchen table and the bottle of painkillers had been tipped to spill pills across the surface. Abel had swallowed a handful of them as soon as they got home. Now he was high enough to withstand Seth’s sloppiest attempts at stitching him up.

Biting his tongue, Seth moved slowly with his needle and wire to stitch the injury. There wasn’t a lot he could do. Rylie had bitten deep and it would definitely scar.

“Sissy? You think I’m a sissy? You’re not the one who got eaten by a werewolf!”

Seth’s hand slipped. Abel grunted. “Sorry.” He cut the wire on the right side and knotted it, leaving five sloppy stitches, and went to work on the other side.

“You owe me thanks, bro. You could have been bitten if we hadn’t been there.”

“Rylie would never attack me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he said. The more he thought about the moment his eyes met Rylie’s, the more sure he was that she recognized him. Any other werewolf would have attacked him too. Most of them were mindless animals, but she wasn’t.

“She would have come out of that mine and—ow!” Abel shoved Seth away from him. “Give me the needle. I’ll do it myself.”

“You’ve taken so many drugs that you couldn’t legally operate a pair of safety scissors. I’m not giving you a needle.”

“At least I don’t have the sewing skill of a Mack truck.”

Seth jabbed his elbow into Abel’s side when he tried to grab the needle again. Normally, his brother wouldn’t have put up with that kind of treatment, but the painkillers made him sluggish.

“I told you to shut up.”

“What was I saying?” Abel asked, swaying where he sat. “Oh yeah. Your girlfriend would have come out of that mine and killed you if we hadn’t been there. You weren’t even armed. You think the power of
love
is going to save you? Is love made of silver alloy?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Seth said. “And you promised not to tell Mom. You lied to me.”

“We saved your butt. You’re welcome.”

He shut the first aid kit. “Whatever. Sew yourself up. Stitch your eyes closed and bleed to death if you want. I don’t care.”

“I’m not joking. Rylie will kill you,” Abel said.

“At least she doesn’t lie to me.”

Abel craned his neck to the side to examine his injury. When he couldn’t see it, he jumped off the counter and moved for the bathroom. He staggered drunkenly and barely caught himself on the empty refrigerator.

“Whoa!”

“Sit down, stupid. You’re going to kill yourself before Rylie can finish the job,” Seth said.

Abel did sit down—on the floor. Hard. He tried to grab the table on his way down and managed to pull the first aid kit on his head. Seth grabbed the needle and scissors off the floor before he could hurt himself.

“This cheap trailer is such a piece of crap! The floor isn’t even level!” Abel snarled.

Seth didn’t argue even though the floor was fine. He rinsed out a cup of soda from a burger joint, filling it with water from the tap, and handed it to his brother. “Drink it.”

“Sure,
Mom
.”

Eleanor had never been the type to watch over them when they were sick, and they both knew it. The joke fell flat.

Abel chugged the entire thing in one breath, wiping water off his chin. Seth knelt beside him to examine the bite wound. “I’m going to have to put a bandage on it. I don’t think we can stitch the rest. You’re going to have a really bad scar.”

“Your girlfriend has a hell of a bite on her.”

“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend!”

“Good.” Abel gripped Seth’s shoulders in both hands. “Listen to me, bro. I protected you tonight. You’re an idiot, but we’re family, so we’ll have this mushy talk once. All right?” No response. “Werewolves killed Dad. A werewolf almost turned me. I don’t want to see you bitten or dead.”

Seth smacked a gauze pad on the wound and taped it down, then shoved his brother toward bed. “You should sleep.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Abel collapsed on top of a pile of sheets in the corner. They didn’t have mattresses. Buying beds didn’t kill werewolves.

Seth was so used to his mom’s Spartan approach to life that he usually didn’t think twice about it, but watching his injured brother trying to find a comfortable position on the floor made a knot of anger clench in his stomach.

“Think I’m going to turn into a werewolf on the next moon?” Abel mumbled into the sweater he used as a pillow.

It was a question Seth had been trying not to consider. He didn’t think anybody had been bitten by a werewolf twice before. So he didn’t respond.

“Rylie is different,” he said as he shut the door. “She is.”

Abel snored.

Seth stood on the porch, craning his neck back to search the sky for a moon. Moths fluttered through the air, and the light on the porch occasionally crackled and snapped as one drew too close and fried on the electrified wire. It was late enough at night to be considered early morning.