Black Moon (4 page)

I tilt my head inquisitively.

“You wouldn’t have been trained, wouldn’t have been as strong as Blake.”

I walk around to the other side of the table, where she stands, and encircle her neck with my arms. “But it
wasn’t
me, Jana. I’m here, protected by all of you. And I promise this: when I do become a werewolf, I’ll give it my all.”

She sniffles, wiping away the next tear before it falls. “You don’t understand. We were going to raid that area in a week, after you turned. It was going to be a surprise birthday present from my parents, for you to get in on the action.” She pulls back from my hold and watches me, waiting for my response. When I don’t generate one, she continues, “Candra, it would’ve been
you
. If everything unfolded next week as it did tonight, you’d be lying on this table instead of Blake. And, more than likely, you’d be dead.”

I regard her words for a handful of seconds before shrugging. “Good thing you didn’t wait because I hate surprises.”

Chapter Three

O
ver the next three days, Blake regains his strength, Jana’s emotions even out, and I want nothing more than to inflict destruction on those who injured my friend. Like cataclysmic destruction. I can only hope that, when I acquire my power, I’m imbued with one from Zeus.

Oh yeah, almost forgot. My parents arrived in Hartford. Again.

After the Halloween incident, they were on the next flight to Connecticut. When they realized how out of hand this feud with the Conway’s has become, they booked it back to Charleston so they could settle personal matters. Now that those issues have been taken care of, they’ll be residing at the Lowell residence. Indefinitely.

I still haven’t figured out what, exactly, they think they’ll achieve in Hartford. It’s not like they’re werewolves; they stopped changing when I was born, to focus on me and living a normal life void of shape-shifting and magic and constant feuding. Once you make that decision, you can’t change it—you’ll remain human for the rest of your life. Maybe they’re just here because they want to act as a support system. For me. So much has happened already, and they weren’t close for any of it. Now’s their chance to prove themselves, to keep me safe, and to be the extra helping hands.

“Your bruises look much better,” Mom says, passing me at the kitchen bar on her way to the coffee machine. I was so relieved when they didn’t freak about the black and purple marks all over my body.

Taking another bite of blueberry muffin, I manage to speak while chewing. “I’m still sore, but I’ll heal.”

“Of course you will, but I don’t want you picking anymore fights.” She opens and closes cabinets, searching for coffee mugs, I suppose.

“I didn’t pick this one on purpose. It’s not my fault Ben has a jealous girlfriend.” Since she’s still searching, I add, “Right side, upper cabinet, above the stove.”

Opening the correct one this time, she smiles. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Listen, I invited Jana and Blake over for dinner. Hope that’s okay.”

Mom shrugs. “Fine with me. What time will they be over?”

“Not sure.” A couple of days ago Jana was worried about Blake’s condition, so she dropped me off without saying hello. Ever since, my parents have wanted to meet the heroic friends who saved my life.

“I can’t wait to thank them for what they did. That was very brave.”

I smile. “That’s Jana and Blake for you.” Finishing my muffin, I gulp down the last of my orange juice with it. “Where’s Beth? I should probably make sure she knows they’re coming.”

Mom picks up a local newspaper and straightens it out. “
Mmm
. Last I checked she and Randy were preparing the chair in the basement.”

“The chair?”

Distracted, Mom murmurs a confirmation.

I prod further. “What chair?”

“The one that we’ll use for your birthday.” She turns the page, eyes coursing down the left side, but then landing on the right.

“So, it’s a birthday chair? Like a queen’s throne or something?”

She glances up, smiling. “Something like that.”

“Okay. Well . . . I’m going to find Beth, then.” I don’t know what I need a birthday chair for; it’s not like I’ve thrown any major parties for prior birthdays. This one’s only different because of what I’ll become, not because I’ll legally be able to vote, smoke, or buy weapons.

Downstairs—like, basement downstairs—Randy and Beth surround a chair made of thick, wooden boards. Each timber has to at least be four to five inches in diameter, and the back and seat are armored steel. It’s not so much the planks and steel that surprise me; it’s the chains attached to every corner. Chunky, powerful chains. Chains meant to hold something in place without it breaking loose.

Chains meant for me.

At first—I’m not going to lie—I
suck
in a deep breath and cling to it. Everything I’ve been told will happen the night of my birthday seems just as bad, if not worse, in my mind. What if they’ve been withholding information from me? What if there’s something I’m supposed to do to make it easier and they haven’t advised me of it? Maybe I’ve been blind to the facts, or maybe I’m trying to ease my thoughts by cutting myself a break, but either way this isn’t going to be a great experience.
 

I take the few remaining steps to the ground floor, shifting my weight onto one leg, crossing my arms. “So, when were you going to tell me about this?”

They snap their heads toward me.

“Candra, dear—”

“I thought this would be an adventure, like free to roam the woods in our backyard, not tied to an electric chair.”

Beth moves her head in one swift movement, disapproving. “This isn’t an electric chair, Candra.” She glances at Randy, waiting for him to say something.

Taking the cue, he says, “It’s for your protection, and ours. You won’t be use to the change, so we wouldn’t be able to stop you except through violent force.” With a somber look, he adds, “It’s just easier this way.”

I’m not convinced. “Does everyone have to use this chair, or is it just me?”

“Everyone in our family,” he boasts.

Still not convinced. “Why are you guys so afraid of letting me loose? Jana, Blake, their families, the rest of the Watchers—all of them change without problem.”

“That’s different,” says Beth. “After your first time, there isn’t pain and you can control your body. But your first night is
completely
different. The hurt, your limbs shifting—it’s too much to handle and your brain can’t process the changes. So, more or less, you wouldn’t be you.”

I can’t believe my family is going to shackle me to a chair and watch me turn. How repulsive is that? Although part of me is grateful to have them care so much, the other part is sickened that they would spend my birthday eating cake, watching me open presents and waiting in the wings while I turn into a fur ball.

“Candra . . .” Beth begins, but doesn’t finish. She reaches out to me, then retracts her hand like I’m surrounded by an unseen, flaming bubble.

“I just don’t understand why nobody tells me anything. Just because I’m not like you yet doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to learn like everybody else.”

“We know,” says Randy. “And we promise that, once you turn, you’ll be included on the action. But until then, we have to keep you safe.”

There’s really no reason to argue with them. It’s always the same damn thing—protecting me from harm. I feel like I’ve lived with a family of superheroes for the past six months rather than werewolves. Maybe I should buy them long, red capes for their birthdays.

“We’ll see,” I say. Right now is normally the time when I do something careless, something that will garner attention so they have no choice but to explain withheld facts. This time, though, I’m going to let the events unfold independently. My lips will be sealed like a good little girl, and I’ll overcome this experience. When the timing is right, when they slip and fall onto their puddle of secrets and lies, I’ll know all.

You just wait, dear family.

I turn on my heel and march upstairs. Mom assesses me when I stroll into the kitchen.

“Everything all right?” she asks, skeptical.

“I’m fine. Why?” I try to add that air of indifference to my words, but I’m not quite sure it worked.

She shrugs. “You looked perplexed, is all.” She hesitates, taking a deep breath and releasing it when she speaks. “Candra, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

I cut my eyes at her, glaring for what feels like hours. “
Please
, Mom. There are bigger things to discuss right now than a chair.”

“Okay. You’re upset. That’s understandable.” She slides off the barstool and nears me. Still not close enough to touch me, though. “Whatever it is you want to get off your chest, go ahead. I’ll listen.”

Thinking about my master plan, I decide it’s best to remain hushed. “Rain check? I need to call Jana and Blake, find out when they’ll be joining us.”

Defeated, she forges a smile and nods.

I’m finally allowed the silence—
seclusion
—I’ve needed for some time as I close my bedroom door behind me. For too long I’ve been under a watchful eye by everyone I know. I miss working at
Livia’s
. I miss school. I miss feeling normal. Now my life consists of being shuttled from one house to the next, always with someone, never alone. Sometimes a person just needs their privacy.

I don’t bother flipping the light switch. The black curtains hanging over my window conceal most, but not all, light from entering the room—great for sleeping in, by the way—so I fumble for the familiar bed post and edge of the mattress. The digital clock on the nightstand glows blue, and tells me the time is 4:02 p.m. I hurl myself forward, twisting my body to face the bedroom door, ready to sleep until Jana and Blake arrive. Remembering I never told Beth they’re eating dinner with us, I smack my head.

My concern is abruptly cut short, though. There’s intense warmth radiating from behind me, as if a space heater has been placed on the other side of my bed. I
know
that feeling. There are two options: make a run for the door or wait, motionless. Neither sounds like a winning situation.

Bolt for it!

Before I can reach the edge of the bed, one muscled arm loops around my waist while the other covers my mouth, muffling my screams. Whoever he is, his breath is sultry against my ear, sending unpleasant sensations up and down my body. I close my eyes. This can
not
be happening right now. My family will freak knowing their hard work has been for nothing.

This leaves me no choice but to fight back. I kick at his shins, but he locks one of his sculpted legs over both of mine, holding me in place. I try screaming, but he rearranges his arms so that the one holding my waist covers my mouth and the other slides up my body, to my neck, choking away my panicky cries. Gasping for air doesn’t make this easier; it only makes me more terrified. Claustrophobic, even.
 

His breath launches itself against my ear again, and I voluntarily tremble under his hold. A low growl escapes his lips. “Why did you fight Ali?” he asks, only for my ears.

I should’ve guessed it was him, but in a time like this I can’t ever be sure.

He relaxes his grip a little, dropping his hand from my mouth. “No screaming,” he says, “or I’ll gladly restrain you.”

“Why are you here? Don’t you know how dangerous this is?”

Again, he demands that I answer him. “Tell me why you and Ali fought.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see my face. “Ali started it.”