Blood Moon (6 page)

I pull one of the chairs from the dining table over in front of Francine. Her knitting slows down, but doesn’t fully stop. “I know you probably think it’s weird to have strangers in your house, but I want you to know that we don’t mean any harm to you or your mother.” Her eyes are vacant as I speak, so I press onward with my speech. “If you need anything from Ben or me, don’t hesitate to ask us. We’ll be more than happy to help.”

It’s as if I was never here, and never spoke a word to her. She ignores me completely. Reaching a dead-end, I slide the chair back where it belongs and motion for Ben to follow me into the bedroom. We toss our normal clothing onto the guest bed and awkwardly stand in place for what feels like eternity.

“What was that about?” Ben whispers. “We can’t become attached to anybody in this time period, Candra; it’ll make it harder for us when we have to leave.”

I puff out a heavy breath. “I know, but she seems suspicious of us, and I don’t want her to feel like we’re intruding on their personal space. I mean, think about it . . . What if we couldn’t see the people who entered our lives? What if they were just phantoms to us, shadows at the edge of our vision? Wouldn’t we express the same emotions toward them?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Exactly. But the point is: would they take the time to get to know us if we were in that situation? Would they take time out of their day to make us feel like they’re trustworthy?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, so we have to step up and be friendlier, so she will trust us, and so she won’t visualize us as deceitful guests who are impeding her and her mother’s lives. I’m not saying it’ll happen overnight, but maybe over the next few weeks she’ll actually have friends in us, which is better than no friends at all.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth curves into a fond smile. He lifts his hand and tenderly runs two fingers down my cheek. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

My entire body hardens to marble. My heart, instead of steadily pounding against my chest, decides to take a flying leap into the depths of my stomach. And a tickly-static sensation starts at the top of my head and flows through my limbs, all the way down to the tips of my toes. “Um . . . I . . . Y-you’ve never told me that before.”

He frowns, not confusedly, or mockingly, but in a way that’s caring and open. “Oh, Candra,” he says, “I thought you already knew.”

Why am I crying? The tears won’t stop puddling in my eyes, or spilling over and running down my cheeks. Each time I lose a fresh droplet, Ben softly wipes it away. “I love you, too,” I say, once I recover my voice. His eyes sparkle and dance behind their dark-brown coloring, and the grin that spreads across his face makes him look all the more relieved. Was he actually afraid I wouldn’t return those three words? He’s an idiot if he thought that. Recalling his declaration to me moments ago, I think I’ve always known he loved me, but it’s different when a person actually
tells
you.

Ben leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my lips, so feather-light it’s as if it never existed at all.  “C’mon,” he murmurs, “let’s go check out the town and surrounding areas, see if we catch any strange happenings.” He clasps my hand in his and leads me out of the room.

Francine doesn’t acknowledge our presence, but I acknowledge hers.

“See you later, Francine,” I say, as Ben opens the front door.

Although the air is cold outside, my new dress prevents any drafts and maintains warmth. I don’t know about Ben, but I’m actually happy with my new outfit. Maybe now we’ll blend in with the rest of society.

By the time we arrive in town, some sort of commotion has broken out between the shop-lined streets. A growing crowd circles a small area, and gossip spreads from ear to ear. Ben and I creep up next to the nosy onlookers and ask what’s going on.

The older man to my right is the first to respond. “One of those mischievous Conway brothers shoved a poor woman into a mud puddle,” he explains.

Bingo.
I glance over my shoulder, where Ben stands behind me, and his expression is priceless. I’m sure it sounds odd, hearing his name in this era and knowing one of his ancestors is within reach. At least we know they exist and nothing magical has happened yet.

Another man on my left pipes up and says, “He grabbed her and took off down the lane.” He points toward the mucky, potholed road ahead.

“Do you know, by chance, where they might be headed?” I ask.

“Mayhap the Lowell residence, where she lives. Used to be the old Peabody mansion.”

Two birds with one stone? Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Thank you so much,” I tell them, snatching Ben’s hand and briskly walking in the same direction where either Ulric or Alaric, and Daciana, disappeared.

As soon as we’re out of hearing range, Ben says, “Well, that was easy.”

“Too easy,” I retort. “All we have to do is catch up to them.”

Ben stops so quickly, I almost trip as he jerks me backward. “And what are we going to do when we meet them? We can’t tell them who we are.”

“Why not?” I shrug. “As long as we keep our last names confidential, they won’t be suspicious. We just need to squeeze our way into their personal lives, befriend them, and then we’ll know where they are and who they’re with. Five steps ahead, Ben. We have to be five steps ahead at all times.”

He purses his lips and gazes into the distance. “All right. Think of aliases before we take the next step.”

My mind in a frenzied fog, I say the first surname that comes to mind, “Lowry.”

Ben nods. “Mine will be Conwell.”

“Okay, Candra Lowry and Benjamin Conwell. Similar, but maybe they won’t be noticeable.”

Refraining from a good laugh, Ben says, “They’re horrible names.”

I abstain from laughter, as well. “Okay, yeah, they are.”

Up ahead, a scream pierces the air. Ben and I spring into motion, as there’s no time to waste. Only two people are going this way, other than Ben and me, and if they’re in danger, well, it’s up to us to help them. We just have to be careful.

Three silhouettes emerge on the horizon—a man and a woman, and a freaking werewolf, who is chasing them. Ben and I have the ability to transform, but
poof!
there goes our newly-crafted attire. We’ll have to figure out another way to stop the creature. Just as we pass through the woodland area, following the dirt road to the Lowell residence, the Conway brother and Daciana slam the front door in the werewolf’s face. It bashes against the entryway, clawing and biting at the wood, but the entry doesn’t budge. Pacing back and forth in front of the porch, it finally releases a long howl, scrapes the dirt like a bull about to charge, and lowers itself, ready to pounce.

“Stop!” Ben cries out. “Leave them alone, you mangy, overgrown sack of fur!”

The werewolf jerks its head around and exposes its fangs in an angry snarl.

Really, Ben? Really?
 

Do you have a better idea?

Not at the moment.

That’s what I thought.

We should feel special, since this was what we had hoped for, but all at once, my stomach suddenly performs a somersault, and the nightmare of the crow lady returns. After all, she and the werewolf are one and the same. Eyes glowing a vivid yellow, the creature bounds toward us, taking up several feet at a time with its extended legs.

“So, uh, now what do we do?” I ask.

Ben puckers his lips and sighs dramatically. “Run?”

“Yeah, good idea.”

He and I take off for the forest, even though we have no clue where we’re going. We can always sniff our way back to Colchester, if we make it out alive, but the likeliest scenario is that this werewolf has seen enough and will rip us apart. Ben and I jump over stray branches on the earth, dodge overgrowth threatening to slow us down, and duck from the trees’ outstretched limbs. Darting through the forest in human form is proving to be more and more difficult.

“This way!” Ben calls over his shoulder.

He and I are panting like it’s five hundred degrees outside. Sweat clings to my brow, and my lungs burn from overexertion. Oh, and sprinting through a twisted forest in a dress and heels? Not the best combination. If I had foreseen this coming, I would’ve waited on playing dress-up.

We burst through the trees as fast as our legs will carry us, stopping short of a clearing. Just on the other side is a dark-haired woman picking berries and plants. She’s completely oblivious to what’s headed her way.

“You have to get out of here!” Ben yells, his arms beckoning her to move.

She glances up, squints, and doesn’t seem the least bit surprised that two strangers are in the middle of the woods, midday, shouting at her.

“What seems to be the trouble?” she asks, as Ben and I approach.

Stopping long enough to catch my breath, I blurt, “There’s a wolf after us. You have to run while you can.”

“A wolf?” She laughs. “Aye, my ears have heard of this creature through those who wag their tongues, but my eyes have not yet seen such a thing.”

Ben frowns. “Well, it’s alive and well. You’ll see it soon.”

As if on cue, the werewolf materializes from behind us, teeth bared and snarling.

“Oh, that wolf,” says the woman. She steps past us, actually striding
toward
the werewolf. “Run along now. Shoo. Go on.” She waves a hand at the creature, and it immediately stops growling. As a matter of fact, it almost looks scared of this woman. Obediently, the werewolf tucks its tail between its legs and trots off, disappearing in the labyrinth of trees.

“How’d you—” I begin, but I’m too shocked to finish inquiring.

“’Tis like any animal or child—scold it and it retreats,” she says, returning to the berry bush she worked on before.

Ben and I swap a skeptical glance.

“Do you live nearby?” Ben asks.

She gestures toward an area ahead of us. “Just beyond those trees, at the edge of the forest. I have lived here long enough to know that neither of ye are from this town. What brings ye to Colchester?”

“We’re just passing through,” I lie. “Hopefully, we won’t be here longer than a month.”

“And what does Colchester possess that is so appealing to ye?” She plucks a few more berries from the bush and tosses them into her basket. “Come now,” she says, “there must be something special here.”

“Like she said,” Ben starts, “we are just passing through and shouldn’t be here long. There’s nothing in particular that interests us about this town.”
But your freaking werewolf problem does,
he adds, for my ears only. I refrain from smirking.

The woman strides over to another nearby shrub and begins picking the berries from it. “Interesting,” is all she says.

“Well, we should probably be going.” I look to Ben for confirmation, and he bobs his head once in agreement. “It was nice meeting you, and thanks for getting rid of the wolf.”

She turns around from harvesting, eyebrows raised, and says, “’Twas not an issue at all. I am very pleased to meet ye, as well. Pardon me, though, but what are thy names?”

“I’m Candra. Candra Lowry.”

“And I’m Benjamin Conwell.”

A spark of knowledge passes so fleetingly in this woman’s eyes, I almost consider my mind makes it up. But it was definitely there.

“I hope we cross paths again,” she says, a little too happily for my taste.

Ben and I begin our long trek back to town, both of us puzzled by the stack of questions our minds have generated. I’ve certainly never seen a person approach a werewolf so calmly. Even in Hartford, we’d be fearful to advance on one another while transformed. But this woman? It’s like fear doesn’t exist inside her.

Ben chuckles.
What an experience that was.

Tell me about it.

I know what you’re thinking—

Of course you do,
I say sarcastically.

—and I have the same opinion. Nobody walks up to a werewolf and just shoos it off like a pest.

She can’t be a freaking werewolf whisperer. Either that woman used some sort of magic and compelled the wolf to leave, or she knows the creature personally.

“Oh!” I exclaim. “I forgot one thing.” Before Ben asks me what I’m talking about, I pivot on my heel and jog back toward the clearing. The weirdo woman continues to harvest fruit and hasn’t disappeared. That’s good.

“Hey!” I call out to her.

She casually glances over her shoulder and grins. “Back so soon?”

“I’m just curious about something,” I say. “I never got your name.”

A long, drawn-out smile stretches across her face. “That is because I never gave it to ye.” As quickly as I can snap my fingers, she vanishes into thin air, simply leaving a pallid mist in her wake.

Chapter Five

“Ugh. Not this shit again,” Ben murmurs. “I have a feeling there will be more freakish confrontations here than what we’ve experienced back home.”

“I think you’re right about that one,” I whisper, my voice raw. Seriously, though, why is it every time we come close to finding a missing piece of the puzzle something bizarre happens? Why can’t these people be normal, sixteenth-century men, women, and children? Instead, there’s black magic, a bird lady, a woman who can disappear into nothingness . . . Oh, and werewolves. Yeah, this is definitely not the sixteenth century I learned about in history books.

“So, what’s next on our agenda?” Ben asks, as we nonchalantly stroll toward town.

I lift my shoulders, then steadily let them drop. “I was thinking maybe we should talk to Daciana and whichever Conway brother is with her, if they’re still at the Lowell residence. My guess? It’s Ulric, but I can’t be sure.”

Ben exhales loudly. “I have a feeling you’re right about that.” He slides one arm around my waist and slams me against his chest. “One thing before we go.”

I refrain from grinning. “Oh? What’s that?”

He dips his head so our mouths are scarcely divided. “This.” Lips smashing against mine, he hugs me closer, pressing our bodies together in a unified pose—chests, stomachs, thighs, and everything in between are shared. Heat permeates our clothing, as strong as the humid breaths connecting our lips. Ben’s hand, which previously grasped my side, slides upward. I know exactly where this is going, and I have no qualms with allowing him to roam freely. Fingers spreading over my right breast, Ben squeezes until he elicits a moan from my mouth. His lips curl into a triumphant smirk, and before I can protest his obvious amusement, he twists us around and backs me against a tree. With no way to escape—not that I want to—I surrender to our mutual desire. Taking his sweet time, Ben strokes my tongue with his, thoroughly and skillfully, igniting a miniature firestorm deep within my core. I press against his chest, both partially wishing he’ll stop, and partially wishing he’ll never cease this devastatingly wonderful make-out session.