Black Moon (17 page)

“Let’s play,” Jana says, disturbingly, and without looking at Blake or me.

“Do what you do best, baby,” he encourages. “I have your back.”

Jana extends her arms in a loop, like she’s hugging an invisible person. Deliberately, she decelerates her movements as she brings her arms together, to touch. My eyes dart between her and the fire ring yards ahead, and then I realize what she’s doing—she’s closing them in. The Followers have nowhere to run, unless they want to be burned. It’s a big risk to take if they try.

I can only imagine the telepathic signals they’re sending to the Conway’s right now, and I’m certain it won’t be long before the Conway’s turn up. We’ll have to hold them off until then, somehow. If this is a full-blown attack, we haven’t seen the last of their Followers, and the Conway’s will only arrive as a last-ditch effort. I shouldn’t be surprised they tried this during daylight hours, but I am.

Jana tortures the werewolves, expanding and decreasing the size of the circle using her arms. At last, whether she’s tired and her energy is used up, or whether she feels like offering mercy today, Jana decides to end the faction before us. Several howls exit the conflagration until all is hushed, except for the crackle of flames.

Dropping her arms like they weigh a ton, Jana then collapses. I plop down on the grass beside her.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, glancing up at Blake. He doesn’t seem concerned.

“She needs food and rest. This,” he says, nodding toward the fire, “takes a lot out of her. Give her twenty-four hours, and she’ll be good as new.”

Blake twitches his hand and shoots water at the fire, then freezes it just as he did before. Within fifteen seconds, the blaze is nothing but smoldering ashes. I’m surprised nobody noticed smoke and called the fire department. How fun would it be to explain that a supernatural feud is happening in everyone’s backyard, in the middle of the day?

Blake bends down and lifts Jana into his arms, carrying her toward the house. Inside, Beth prepares lunch while the others rest in the living room, watching the news for any weird developments.

“Oh my! What happened?” Beth shrieks, rushing from the kitchen counter to the doorway as we pass by.

“Followers,” Blake responds. “Don’t worry, we took care of them.”

Mrs.
Rendall
panics and jumps up from the loveseat. “Is she . . .?”

Shaking his head, Blake replies, “She’s just drained.”

“Where?” Randy’s level question is edged with threat.

“Out back.” Blake lays Jana on the couch now that everyone is standing. They all dash to the rear door, peering at the smoking flora.

Mr.
Rendall
turns around to face us, looking meditative. “Why didn’t you send for us? It’s not like we were miles away.”

Blake covers Jana with a throw. “Because we wanted to prove that we can do this on our own, that we don’t need you guys to watch us twenty-four seven. We’re not babies.”

“
Ohh
, Blake,” murmurs Mrs.
Rendall
. She approaches him, and then cups his face. “We’ve never thought of you as incapable of fending them off; we know you can. It’s a matter of lives being at stake. If something happened to you, Jana’s heart wouldn’t be the only one broken.” She pulls his head down and plants a light kiss on his forehead. “We love you as though you were our son.”

“Tell us everything,” Mr.
Rendall
says. “Don’t hold back any details.”

So, Blake does just that. He explains the sway in the air, the violent storm approaching, my gut feeling, and how he and Jana knew
they
were on their way. His ice, her fire. How the Followers are nothing more than ashes now, swept off with the wind.

“We need to be on guard,” warns Dad, pointing his finger and directing it to whomever he speaks to. “They’ll return with back-up, if they haven’t already, and this time it’s going to take all of us.”

“Problem.” I hold up my hand and drop it just as promptly. “I can’t shift, and I don’t have a power, so what do you want me to do?”

“Stay inside,” he replies. When I open my mouth to dispute, he gives me The Look, the stern one. The one that says I won’t win this mini battle between us.

“Indoors it is,” I mumble.
Yeah, right.

They all congregate at the dining table to discuss the next plan of action, and so they won’t disturb Jana. I stand aside, listening to the conversation and wishing, once again, there’s something I can do to help.
Arghhh
. If
Daci
will cooperate, I can be out there, fighting alongside them. But as it stands, I’m totally screwed.

Stepping onto the foyer and away from the commotion near the kitchen, I have my own conversation with the Ancient inside me.
C’mon,
Daciana
. They need me right now. We’re severely outnumbered.

Give me a superior reason, and I will allow it,
she answers.

How is this not a good enough reason? You know, I shouldn’t be asking for your permission to shift; it’s my body.

No, you should not. But it is my decision nonetheless. This is the consequence of holding my soul hostage.

My hands squeeze into fists at my side.
Look, do you want to be with
Ulric
? If you keep me from helping my family and friends, you will
never
see him again. Are we clear?

A tense silence sandwiches itself amongst us. I hate using a mean and haughty tone with her, but something’s got to give. Either she’s with me, or against me. There is no in-between.

Have it your way, Candra.

YES! Victory! As much as I’d love to stand on the roof and shout to the world that I can transform into a werewolf freely, it doesn’t matter. Right now, we have thornier problems.

I barrel into the kitchen. “I can do it! I can help! She’ll allow me to transform.”

Beth’s the first to speak. “That’s great, dear. Maybe we should test it out first?”

It’s then I see the skeptical expression in their eyes. They don’t believe a word I tell them, which sucks, because I’ve reserved a list of useful ideas in my head. And since this takes too much convincing, I might as well prove myself.

“Let’s go outside,” I say, “to see if she’s telling the truth, or if she’s lying.”

They follow me around the side of the house, back into the open lot. At first, they want to check the outskirts, for protection purposes, but I’m too giddy to wait. It’s been days since my last conversion, and my body is plummeting into a state of despair because it can’t chase its impulses.

I bend at the waist, the familiar sensation coiling within and allowing me to shift. My white fur, my long snout and black nose, my lethal claws and fangs—I missed all of it! I missed being
me
. Now, I won’t be sidelined for another fight; I can offer support.

Beth sighs. “All right, Candra. You’re on patrol. Scout the areas nearby, stealthily, and then return with your findings. Whatever you do,
don’t
let them see you. Consider this your first test.” She pats my wooly head, and I bolt into the forest, like the lightning flashing on the horizon.

Chapter Twelve

P
lop.

The squall leisurely progresses across the sky and each pelt of raindrops are followed by another. Overhead, the clouds darken the further they travel. I need to hurry this mission; otherwise, I’ll be soaked within the hour.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

I’ve investigated much of the woodland behind our neighborhood, but found nothing. No Followers hiding in trees or bushes, no Conway’s doling out magical powers, no Ben. It’s as if the Followers we saw earlier decided they’d attack on their own free will, like the Conway’s had nothing to do with it.

Weird.

Even weirder is the fact that I can’t smell a damn thing. I mean, it’s just the usual—trees, wildflowers, dirt, animals. No werewolves. They have a distinct odor, the Followers; a mixture of sweet pollen and damp fur and . . . magic. They reek of magic.

Wow. I really am losing my mind out here.

A bush to my left rustles. I freeze, assessing whether I should run back to Randy and Beth’s, or whether I should wait it out, to see if it’s just my imagination. Another bush stirs to my right and slightly behind me, and then a twig and some leaves crunch deeper in the wooded area. Ever so slowly, I back up; one paw at a time. Straight ahead, yellow eyes materialize, followed by another set, and another. What’s going on? Why can’t I smell them? Unless they’ve physically covered their tracks, this shouldn’t be possible.

They used magic. Has to be it.

I should’ve known they’d planned this. The first batch of Followers was just an experiment, a strategy to rile us. When no Followers returned for round two, the Conway’s knew my family would send out a patrol. Little did they realize that patrol would be me.

So, now I’m cornered. Well, sort of. If I can weasel my way out of this spot, I’ll run for my life. I scan the minds of my family, and the Watchers. My family hovers over Jana, shoveling food into her mouth so she’ll eat and regain her strength. The closest Watchers, other than Jana, her parents, and Blake, aren’t nearby. Bad timing. Really,
really
bad timing. Oh, I hate to do this.

We’ve got company, guys.

Where?
asks Dad.

Um, see, that’s the thing. I don’t know where exactly. I’m attempting to slip out, but they’re too close.

Candra, get out of there! Now!
Beth yells.

Trying,
I say. Continuously stepping backward, I notice more atop a nearby hill . . . and more . . . and then their cousins and best friends and significant others and possibly even some kids. They’re oozing from the woodwork!
You guys better call
all
Watchers, immediately.

What’s wrong?
Mrs.
Rendall
questions me this time.

I’m calling a Code Red, or Blue, or Green, or Black. Never mind . . . I’m calling all fucking codes.
My limbs react to the somersaults my stomach performs; the more Followers I see, the more I realize how shaky I am.

Calling them now,
says Beth.

I’ll meet you,
Cee
,
Blake declares.
Give me two seconds to be there.

No!
I blurt.
No impulsive movement until everyone is lined up and ready for combat. I’m not joking, guys. This is serious business. Oh, and I’d move Jana someplace safe, like the back room of the basement.

No way. I’m fighting,
Jana responds.
I just needed something to eat.

Now isn’t the time to argue with anyone. I need to keep my head clear so I can focus on fleeing the area, and preserving my life. When I’ve reversed myself enough, I whip around and dart. Several hundred feet clobber the forest floor behind me.

I’m on the move,
I tell the others.

And where are they?
asks Beth.

On my heels.

Help is on the way, Candra. Whatever you do, don’t stop.