Moonglow (24 page)

“The Taser, Caleb, grab it!”

I don't know what this thing is, but when the yellow-haired one grabs it I see that this Taser is the thing that the other one pointed at me that knocked me out. I cannot allow them to strike me again.

“Shoot!”

The crackling sound slams into my ears. Stupidly, the younger one misses even though I'm less than two feet away from him. His hand is still shaking as he tries to point the object at me again, but I knock it out of his hand and hear it careen across the floor to the other side of the room. They have no weapons, just like me. Finally it's a fair fight.

As I'm about to leap into the chest of the yellow-haired one, I hear another wolf howl outside. I turn toward the sound and feel something tugging at my heart. It's the cry of a male wolf. He could be my companion; he could travel and hunt and sleep with me. Do I give in to the innate desire to connect with my own species? Do I let these disgusting creatures live so I can go in search of one of my own kind?

Yes.

At the open door leading to the outside I turn around and look at the two things huddled together, eyes and mouths wide open, like the feeble prey that they are, and I growl at them. Spit is dripping from my jagged fangs, and I open my mouth wide so they can see my red tongue and my black gums and the power that I possess. I'll return for these two, but for now I need to search for the maker of that howl.

Outside I try and smell the scent, but the wind only brings with it a cool breeze, nothing more. I travel in the direction I believe the sound came from, but after a few paces I stop, unsure. I turn around, then to the left, but I can't track it. It's as if the sound and the smell disappeared into the night, as if they never existed, as if I only dreamed that another of my kind was calling out to me.

But what does it matter? I'm here, free, enveloped by the glow of the moonlight, the glorious moonlight, basking in its radiance. I howl at the moon, a sound filled with pride and thanks and servitude. I am but a humble servant, a glimmer in the eye of the almighty, a meager offspring who must prove its worth.

No! I am nothing but a servant who has squandered a perfect opportunity.

I start to race back to the cabin when my body twitches at the arrival of a new scent. This is even sweeter, even more precious, even more worth killing. Bowing my head I take a moment to thank the moon for its gift. A blessing must be acknowledged.

I turn to the right and see another house, smaller than the one I was trapped in, from which the intoxicating smell is escaping. Lavender and rain and decay all combined into one delectable aroma that I must revel in. The scent is calling me, and I cannot ignore it.

A foot from the house I stop, the smell growing from a flame into an inferno. I lift my front legs and spring forward so I can pounce onto the door, both front paws pressing into the wood and tearing it from its hinges so it falls flat to the ground. Inside the room I see two more creatures, one a male and the other a female huddled in opposite corners. They're human, like the ones I just left, the ones I just spared, but I no longer feel kind; I no longer feel like exhibiting mercy. Hunger has evicted compassion from my brain, and I want to taste their flesh and drink their blood. So that's what I intend to do.

A sound rips out of my throat, part growl, part howl, filled with savagery and purity and command. I want these two to know what's coming for them. The wood of the door splinters underneath my paws as I walk toward them.

“Dominy!” the white creature shouts.

That word again. I must uncover its meaning.

“Oh my God, it's her!” he cries out again. “She was telling the truth!”

The white creature is shivering, not from cold, but from fear. How majestic his blood will look when it runs like a twisted river down his pale, thin, lifeless body.

“Nadine!”

A new word. I don't like it.

“Nadine! What do we do?!”

Futilely, he reaches out across the room to the female, but she ignores him. She's moving her lips, but no sound is coming out. If she's speaking, she's doing it silently. She's not like the other one; she's not like anyone I've ever seen before. I can see a layer of silver smoke outlining her body, like a stained halo, that slowly turns to liquid. The vision is really quite beautiful, but the smell emanating from her is rancid. The one who looks like snow is the opposite. He's day; she's night. He's good; she's evil.

“Oh my God, it's Dominy!” he cries out again. “The curse really did come true!”

Still, she doesn't respond, but merely keeps moving her lips, and the smoke around her shifts restlessly and grows in intensity and thickness. Despite the toxic smell living inside the darkness, I sense great power thrives there as well. Power that needs to survive because it's a power that can help make me even stronger, closer to the invulnerability that I know is within my grasp.

A triumphant howl escapes my lips.

I turn to face the creature made of all white. Sometimes deciding which one to kill is such an easy task.

Chapter 18

The man made of ivory is about to be burned.

As I walk toward him I can feel the heat rise in my body and greet the cold air that rushes against my fur. I imagine each strand of red hair acting like an army of flames, extinguishing the cold as it ripples across the length of my body, filling me with fire, fire that needs to spread. I'm a moving torch, and I cannot be stopped.

“Dominy! It's me . . . Archie!”

I hear words coming from the male, but I ignore them because his words no longer have any meaning; only his fear has purpose. Let his mind fall into the abyss of fear that consumes him so I can devour his flesh and remind the world of my strength without any interruption. But when I'm only inches away, when my hot, hungry breath mixes with his cold fear, I am interrupted. By the other one. Her words are different.

The words seep out of the female's mouth in a whisper, barely audible, but the sound echoes in my ears like thunder. I'm caught in an explosion, and I stumble. Her power is greater than I thought, and if I weren't so hungry it would be amusing.

The howl that erupts from deep inside of me is so intense and sudden that it silences her. She reacts exactly the way that I want her to, accepting her fear like her companion already has, giving in to it, allowing it to fill her body like my hunger-heat is filling mine, so I can feast.

The female, now silent, looks at me with a face filled with shock instead of intent. She is staring at me with the awe that is appropriate, and she understands that if I want to kill her there is absolutely nothing she can do to prevent it. She is wise, and I am strong. We understand each other, we need each other, and as I look into her eyes, the color of unattended dirt, I see that she knows I will spare her. This time I'll allow her to live. Her eyes do not offer me thanks but something more important: respect.

Turning away from her I focus on the white male. His body is shaking more violently now as he crawls on the ground. His hands slam hard onto the floor; his knees slide after him, trembling, desperately trying to obey the command of the rest of his body. His eyes dart left, right, searching for an escape that we both know doesn't exist. Good. Welcome the fear, embrace it; the end is almost here.

With each step I take, I can hear my nails click against the wooden floor. With each step I take, I can feel my heart beat faster, and I consciously choose to slow down my pace. I do not want to rush this kill; I want to savor it. I want this time to be better. The last time was like a frenzy, a panic, flesh torn, blood spilt, hunger abated but not quenched. Now I must be in control from start to finish, enjoy every moment and not rush, even though I feel as if I don't have much time left.

My prey is stuck in the crevice of the wall, pushing against the wood as if his slight frame could break through to the other side to reach what he believes to be his freedom. But he will not be free, not until I break through the chains that connect him to life. Not until I decide to open my mouth and plunge my razor-sharp teeth into his flesh and claim what is mine.

His body is a crumpled, shivering mass of white bones. Tiny sounds escape from the mound, whimpers, cries, muffled gasps. Each sound a violation against me and against nature itself. He raises an arm in front of his face as if to prevent me from seeing him, as if he could disappear into the fear that surrounds him, as if anything could stop me from doing what my heart and my mind and my soul are telling me to do.

“Dominy, please,” he says, his voice quivering. “I'm your friend.”

For a moment the heat that engulfs me is cooled. I am no longer consumed with fire and rage and hunger; something else fills my body. I have no idea what it is; I have no idea what I'm feeling. It's foreign, and yet it's familiar, but whatever it is, it makes me pause.

I look at this thing huddled on the floor in front of me, and I wonder why I stop. Why have I given in to its plea? Why am I allowing this thing to have an effect on me, to control me when it should have no influence? It is just a thing. And yet this thing has an unexpected power.

“Dominy,” it repeats. “It's Archie. I'm your
friend
. You don't want to hurt me.”

Trembling words coming out of a trembling body. Weak words coming out of a weak body. I should not listen to them; I shouldn't let them swirl inside my head; I should not let them dictate how I will act. But I do.

My tongue glides across my lips, and I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of my need to drink. The white creature begins to stand to its full height, and he towers above me; he looks down at me, his limbs not still but no longer shaking violently. He is gaining control over his body and over the situation and over me.

“That's it,” he says. “You know me, and you would never hurt me.”

I look at him, and it looks like he is starting to move, but I realize it is my own vision, my own confusion that is making the entire room start to spin. Dizzy, I turn to the female, the one who understands me, to find my footing, to regain my composure. She is still on the other side of the room, but she is no longer looking at me with respect; her eyes are filled with a mixture of anger and disgust. Quickly her eyes dart from the white one and then back to me, and her lips move to form silent words. I can feel her power; I can feel her desire; I can feel her command.

This time my howl is filled with lust and wild abandon. Not an ounce of caution or restraint or pity is contained within its cry.

I turn back to the white creature, one last look before I kill it. I spring into the air, and my ears are bombarded with sound. My own growls, my prey's cries, and from behind me the sound once again of lightning. All followed by the dark quiet of silence.

 

Sounds fracture through the silence like sparks of light piercing a black sky. Fleeting, temporary, and then leaving the sky even blacker than before their arrival. I know that I'm surrounded by people. I can hear their voices, but I can't speak; I can't communicate; I can't make any sound of my own. The only thing I can do is listen and wait. An overwhelming sense of sadness threatens to suffocate me since I think this is how my mother may feel. I pray to God that I'm wrong. I pray that she isn't trapped within some dark world just out of finger-reach of ours, someplace where she knows she shouldn't be, but from which she can't escape. Someplace where she can hear our voices, but knows none of us will ever hear her replies. Someplace where I am right now.

When I open my eyes, I'm still connected to that other place. Half there, half here. I don't know how much time has passed. I don't know exactly where I am for a second because my vision is blurry. Then everything comes into focus. The cabin, the morning light, my father, Caleb.

I try to speak, but my throat is parched, dry like a burnt twig. Caleb shouldn't be here. My father and I are supposed to be here secretly, shut off from the world while the full moon loomed in the sky, while we waited to see whether the curse was mere words or something more. I turn my head and can see the sunlight. Whatever the answer is, it's already been revealed. Whatever the truth is, Caleb shares the knowledge. Quickly, I glance at my arms and expect them to be covered in an animal's red fur, but they're not. I look normal. I am normal. But why are my arms tied up with rope?

I try to lift my arm, but it won't budge. Neither will the other one. That's because thick pieces of rope are wrapped around my chest and arms and around my ankles. Twisting from side to side I try to wrench myself free, and despite the rope burning against my skin I don't stop moving until I feel Caleb's hands on my arms.

“Easy, Dominy,” he says.

His eyes are focused on the rope and they look beautiful and compassionate and scared. Oh God, please no, please don't let it be true.

“Mr. Robineau, can I untie her?”

My father must nod his consent because Caleb's fingers start to loosen the ropes, and soon my upper body is free. I try to catch a glimpse of his eyes, but he's avoiding me. He can't bring himself to look at my pitiful face. In fact he turns his back on me to untie the ropes around my ankles and doesn't turn around when he's finished.

“Here, drink some water,” my father says, taking his place.

Lifting my head to follow my father's command, I feel a burst of pain erupt at the nape of my neck and spread down my spine. When it reaches the end of the bone it doesn't disappear, but spreads out so my entire back feels like it's a twisted piece of fiery metal. I gulp down some water and lie back down on the couch.

Now I'm frightened. It's as if the fear that was living in Caleb's eyes is an airborne virus, and it's leapt into my body, infecting me with the same poison.

“Daddy,” I whisper.

I don't have to say another word. My father knows exactly what I'm asking him; he knows exactly what I need to know. I just can't believe he says it out loud in front of Caleb.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “The curse is real.”

The fire-pain reaches out from the back of my neck and grabs hold of my throat, squeezing, pressing onto my larynx so I can't reply. Then it rises, squirming into my cheeks, my lips, my nose, eyes, forehead, until my entire head is consumed with a blinding ache that no medicine will ever be able to soothe.

“No.”

It's a pathetic word, useless, but it's the only one I can think of to say.

I look at Caleb who still hasn't found the courage to look at me, unlike Archie and Nadine standing behind him. They can't take their eyes off me. Wait! What are they doing here too? They shouldn't be here either; I should be alone with my father. He's the only one who can help me; he's the only one who can possibly understand. Why the hell did I say anything to those two? I must have been out of my mind to think that confiding in anyone else would be a good idea.

“Get out!” I shout.

My voice has no power, and no one moves.

“I said get out of here!”

“We're not going anywhere,” Archie replies.

“Daddy, please . . .”

It's hard to speak with tears streaming down my face and a twisting pain in my throat, but I have to fight back. I grip the side of the couch to lift my body up to a sitting position. Maybe this way I won't look so feeble. Maybe this way they'll listen to me.

“Please, Daddy, make them leave.”

Begging gets me nowhere except on the receiving end of more pitying expressions. What in the world happened? And do I even want to know?

“You heard what Archie said,” Nadine interjects. “We're not leaving; we're staying right beside you.”

I don't want you here! I don't want anyone to see me like this.
My words must be silent because no one responds to my commands. Fine, if they're not leaving, then I am.

Swinging my legs off the couch I try to press my feet into the floor, but I feel like I'm paralyzed from the waist down. No pain, no feeling, no nothing.

“What's wrong with me?!”

“It's the aftereffects of the Taser,” my father explains.

The what? My stunned expression is all that's needed for my father to continue speaking.

“I had to, Dom. It was the only way to get you to stop.”

I have to ask. I don't want to, but I must. “Stop me from doing what?”

“Killing Archie,” Nadine replies.

What?! I have no memory of what I've just been told, but I understand everything.

“The curse . . . the curse turned me into something that wanted to kill Archie?”

“Yes,” my father confirms.

First Jess and now Archie. I'm not a werewolf; I'm a murderer.

“Once the full moon appeared,” my father continues, “you were turned into a werewolf.”

Why aren't they laughing at my father? Why aren't they telling him that he's crazy and needs to book an adjoining room next to my mother at The Retreat?

“I tried to keep you here,” my father explains. “I used the Taser on you, but I didn't have it on its highest frequency, so it only knocked you out for a few moments.”

Once again I try to remember what I'm being told, but no memory returns. I have to give in to blind faith and trust that what I'm being told is the truth. Just as I have to trust that my father's ripped shirt and bandaged arm are the result of my attacking him.

“We ran after you, but lost you until we heard . . .” Something catches in my father's voice, and he can't continue.

“Heard what?” I ask.

“Until we heard you howl again,” my father adds. “We caught up with you just in time.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “I really turned into . . . an animal?”

It's more of a question because I can't comprehend that something so supernatural, something that should only exist in books and movies is actually real.

“Yes,” my father answers.

“Well, we didn't see you turn into anything,” Archie says, tilting his head toward Nadine. “But we saw you turn back.”

Clutching my mouth, I'm not successful in preventing my cry from being heard; the second escapes me and invades the room. I have never felt more disgusting and exposed and vulnerable in my entire life. My father, my friends, and my boyfriend saw me in the most repulsive, incomprehensible state imaginable. How can they ever look at me the same way again?

“We brought you back here,” my father recounts. “And put you in the cage. After a few hours you transformed back.”