Moonlight (6 page)

“Well, then, maybe you’ll get lucky and see some.” Lucas shoved away from the tree. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow. I’m going to bed. Rafe, make sure everything is secure for the night.”

“You got it,” Rafe said, before popping a burned marshmallow into his mouth.

Once Lucas had gone into his tent, the tension around the campfire eased. I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one who thought Lucas and Mason were headed toward a brawl.

“Do you really believe in all that stuff?” I asked Mason.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Nah, but wouldn’t it be cool?”

“They’re always a little rabid in the movies,” I reminded him.

“A wolf bit me once,” he announced.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He leaned down and rolled up his pants leg. There on his calf was a horrible scar. “Took a chunk.”

“Mason has been studying wolves ever since,” Dr. Keane said, his voice echoing a sense of pride.

“But Lucas said there were no documented accounts of wolf attacks.”

“Guess he doesn’t know everything,” Mason said quietly, and it sent a shiver through me.

“So do you turn into a werewolf when there’s a full moon?” Lindsey asked.

Mason snorted. “I wish.”

“I always root for the werewolves,” Lindsey replied. “They get such a bad rap in movies. Demons from hell. I think they’re a metaphor for how badly we treat people who are different.”

“It’s just fiction, Lindsey,” Connor said. “No subliminal messages or great truths revealed. And anyway, a girl isn’t going to scream and snuggle up against you if you’re watching a movie where the werewolf is sweet and understanding.”

“But there’s a bias against them. They’re always the bad guy. Just once, I’d like to see a werewolf portrayed as heroic.”

“You really take it personally,” Mason said, starting to toast his next marshmallow.

“What can I say? I like canines.”

“Vampires get the same bad rap,” Brittany said. “Are you going to defend them?”

“There are lots of vampires who are portrayed in movies as fighting their addiction to blood, trying to be noble. I’m just saying it would be nice to see a noble werewolf in a movie once in a while.”

“They always lose their humanity when they transform,” Mason said distractedly. He removed his perfect marshmallow from the fire and glanced around. “Or at least that’s the way it is in the movies.”

“In all the legends, werewolves do horrible, unforgivable things,” Dr. Keane said. “It’s only natural that Hollywood would incorporate those fears in its storytelling.”

“Still,” Lindsey mumbled, but she seemed to have given up arguing on behalf of werewolves. It was silly anyway. It was, after all, only make-believe.

Mason offered me his lightly browned marshmallow. “I can’t take it,” I told him. “You worked too hard to get it just right.”

“Because I wanted it perfect for you.”

How could I refuse? I popped it into my mouth. It was heavenly. I smiled at him. He smiled back. When we weren’t discussing werewolves—and Lucas wasn’t around—I enjoyed being with Mason. And he was safe. He didn’t make me want to do things I shouldn’t do— things that went way beyond a kiss.

After Brittany, Lindsey, and I got into our tent, Brittany stretched out on her sleeping bag, rolled over, and went to sleep without a word. I quirked an eyebrow at Lindsey. She shrugged. “Something is bothering her. I don’t know what.”

We got into our own sleeping bags. Lindsey turned out our main lantern and turned on a small penlight. It cast a ghostly glow.

“So what’s up with you and Mason?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I like him.”

“You need to be careful. Some guys think that sherpas are only for hooking up—that we’re easy.”

“I don’t think Mason’s like that. And I’m definitely not easy.”

“Just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt on your first expedition.”

“I might hang out with him, but I would never get serious with someone I may never see again.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” Brittany muttered.

“Thought you were asleep,” Lindsey said.

“How can I sleep with you two yammering?”

Lindsey stuck out her tongue at Brittany’s back. I stifled a giggle. Lindsey settled down into her bag. “Just be careful,” she whispered before curling up to go to sleep.

I stared at the tent ceiling. Lindsey wanted the penlight on to serve as our nightlight. I’d learned last summer when we were out in the wilds that she wasn’t a big fan of absolute darkness. Late at night, after my parents went to sleep, I’d snuck out and crawled into Lindsey’s tent. We’d talked for hours about school, clothes, and guys. She was the first person outside of my family who I’d ever told about my parents getting killed. For some reason, except for last night, I didn’t have the nightmares when I was around Lindsey—maybe because she didn’t define me by my past. In some ways, she was far more accepting than my therapist.

I’d met Brittany last summer as well, but I didn’t feel as close to her. Maybe because I sensed that she had her own issues. She was snoring now. It was a little snuffle, similar to the sound my Lhasa at home, Fargo, made.

But it wasn’t the light or the noise that was keeping me awake. It was wolves. They weren’t howling, but I had a feeling they were lurking nearby. If what Lucas said was correct, they’d been in these woods for only twenty years. Long enough to have been around when my original parents and I had come camping that long-ago summer. Had those hunters seen them? Were we hiking now near where the wolves had been, near where my parents had died?

I hadn’t wanted to visit the spot last summer. I wasn’t ready for that. Besides, no one had seemed to remember where it had happened. Or so they had said. Maybe they were afraid the trauma would be too much for me. But tonight, I was remembering low-throated growling and snarling that weren’t dream-induced. Had we been running from wolves? But Lucas had said they never attacked people, so my strange musings made no sense.

What had really happened that day?

I threw back the top of the sleeping bag and sat up. I suddenly felt as though I had to get out of the tent. I hadn’t bothered to undress earlier, so all I had to do was put on my hiking boots. When they were securely tied, I grabbed my flashlight. As quietly as I could, I unzipped the tent opening and slipped outside.

A couple of lanterns had been left on, but no one was around. I didn’t want company. I just wanted . . .

I didn’t know what I wanted.

Face your fears
, Dr. Brandon had urged me. It would be a lot easier to do if I knew exactly what those fears were. I honestly didn’t have a clue. I just had a sense that something momentous was on the horizon, that I was poised on the edge of change. I didn’t know what to expect, but I felt as though it was connected to my past and would influence my future. I had questions, but no answers—fear without justification.

I skirted around the side of the tent and headed into the forest. I’d taken only a couple of steps before I heard low voices. They were nearby, near one of the other tents.

I knew it was none of my business, but I crept closer.

“I know, Dad. God, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” I recognized the voice. It was Mason.

“We don’t want to raise any suspicions.”

“You’re the one who started talking about werewolves.”

“As legend.”

“But you were sounding like a preacher, preaching the gospel of werewolves. That’s the reason Kayla asked you if you believed in them. You did just as much damage as I did.”

“We just need to stay alert and be more careful about what we say to them.”

“Like I said, I’m not the one who started it.”

“Seriously, Mason, any of our guides could be one.”

I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud.

“My money’s on Lucas,” Mason said, and I was even more shocked. “That guy is too quiet. It’s eerie how he can get so still. Why does he keep disappearing, every time we stop to rest? What does he do when he’s gone?”

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

I stood there, stunned, while their voices got quieter as they walked away toward their tents. What were they saying? That they thought the sherpas were werewolves? That Lucas was a werewolf?

The whole idea of people morphing into animals was ludicrous, but the thought of anyone truly believing it was frightening. I thought about all the equipment they were carrying. Was there a cage inside that large crate? Were they going to try to capture a wolf? And when they realized the wolf was just a wolf . . . what then?

I knew people believed in all kinds of things that didn’t exist, but this seemed a little out there.

As quietly and cautiously as possible, I crept toward the trees. I certainly didn’t want them to hear me, to know that I’d overheard their conversation. I didn’t think they’d kill me to silence me or anything crazy like that, but I was a little spooked that they seemed to be on a werewolf-hunting expedition. Although where was the real harm? People searched the skies for UFOs. Some believed they’d been probed by aliens or been in a spaceship. Others invested in fancy equipment to detect the existence of ghosts. I guessed it wasn’t so strange that someone would believe in werewolves. I thought it was loony tunes, but as long as they didn’t hurt anyone, I supposed they had as much right as anyone to explore the forest.

When I thought I was far enough away not to be detected, I switched on the flashlight. It provided a reassuring light, but strangely I was as comforted by the trees surrounding me as by anything else. I heard the leaves rustling in the breeze almost like a lullaby. For a crazy moment, I thought I could hear my mother singing. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I believed that the soul or the spirit or whatever made us who we were lived beyond death. So maybe believing in werewolves wasn’t so crazy after all.

“Going somewhere, City Girl?”

I swung the beam of the flashlight around to where the voice originated. Lucas was standing beside me. I hadn’t heard him approach. How had he arrived so quietly?

I pressed my hand to my chest, where my rapidly pounding heart was threatening to crack a rib. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” My voice held accusation—rightly so.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you thought it was a good idea to wander from camp?”

“I wasn’t wandering. I was just—” Why was I explaining myself? I narrowed my eyes at him. “What are
you
doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep either. What was keeping
you
awake?”

Having regretted being so open with Mason earlier, I decided to be vague. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Your parents were killed out here, right?”

His voice held sympathy and understanding.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Heard something about it last summer. We were told why you were here. So we wouldn’t say something insensitive when we were guiding you through the wilderness. Must have been hard coming back here.”

I nodded, my throat suddenly thick with unshed tears. “Yeah.”

“If you want to walk some more, I’ll walk with you.”

“Thanks, but . . . I’m not really in the mood for company.”

“No talking. Just walking. I can keep an eye out, keep you safe.”

“And if we get lost?”

“I know these woods like the back of my hand. When you grow up in Tarrant, the national forest is your playground.”

“Okay, yeah. If you don’t mind. I just need to wander for a while.” I started walking and he fell into step beside me. I didn’t like to admit it, but he was way more comforting than the trees or the beam of my flashlight. It was actually kind of nice just having him there, not needing to keep up a conversation or anything.

It was strange, but as we walked along, I was able to smell the unique scent of his skin. It was an earthy smell like the woods around us. It was pleasant, powerful, and sexy. I couldn’t believe how quiet he was. I swept my flashlight back for a second. He was barefoot.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” I asked as I redirected my light forward.

“My feet are tough. I’ve gone barefoot since I was a kid.”

“You move so quietly.”

“Had to learn to do that. Connor, Rafe, and I used to play war games with the other kids. The only way to win was to be able to sneak up on people undetected.”

“And you like to win.”

“Absolutely. No point in playing if your goal is to lose.”

I came to a stop and leaned my back against a tree. I pointed the flashlight down so we had light but our faces were lost in the shadows. But still I felt him watching me. “Do you have any bad memories?” I asked. He had an idea about mine. I wanted us on even ground.

“Everyone has some bad memories,” he said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some.”

His voice held no emotion, and I knew he wasn’t about to talk about them, but knowing that he had them was enough. I sighed heavily. “I was with them when they were killed. My parents. But I don’t really remember what happened. I remember the echo of the gunshots. They were so loud. And then my parents were dead. It’s been driving me crazy lately, ever since I came back to the forest this year. Last year it was like I was inside a bubble, trying to insulate myself from the past. I didn’t want to face it. But this year it’s different. It’s as though something inside me wants to break free. I can’t explain it, but I feel like I’m on the verge of remembering something really important.”

He moved closer to me and skimmed his knuckles along my cheek. Until that moment, I didn’t realize I was crying. I released a short burst of embarrassed laughter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lay all that heavy stuff on you.”

“That’s okay. It has to be difficult, being back here again. I love these woods. You must hate them.”

“You’d think I would, but I don’t. In a way, when I’m here, I feel a connection to my parents.”

He kept silent. In an odd way, it made me think better of him for not trying to say something, because anything would have been trite. I felt like maybe I should pull away, but I didn’t. Even if he felt my pain, he couldn’t experience it.