Bright Moon (10 page)

“I don’t care what he’s done! If you can’t
behave yourself then you’re out of the pack.”

Mesha’s eyes slowly slid to Tyson who stood
between her and Callan. Her head gave a small nod to show she
understood, but her glare snapped back to Callan. Tyson grabbed her
arm and thrust her out the door.

“Take a walk and don’t bother coming back
until your emotions are in check.”

Her face twisted in anger, but she complied.
Callan watched with wide eyes and pressed himself to the wall where
Mesha had thrown him, as if she would return to finish him off.
When she’d gone, he turned to Tyson. “I thought you said she was
tame.”

“She was fine until she saw you,” Tyson
growled.

“What did I do to her?”

“It’s not what you did to her.”

Callan’s brow fell when he looked at Clara.
“What did you tell her?”

She was hurt by his accusation and crossed
her arms. “I didn’t say a thing!” she said haughtily. A half grin
touched Callan’s mouth.

“You haven’t changed much, have you? You’re
still too easy to tease.”

Tyson watched their exchange with an
unreadable face. “I better make sure she doesn’t do anything to
compromise us,” he said.

“Ty!” Callan grabbed his arm. “Are you sure
that’s wise?”

“You’ll be fine, just don’t lose your
temper.” Tyson shook Callan’s grip loose then left, shutting the
door. Callan shifted unsteadily and slowly slid his hands into his
pants pockets.

“A-are you still mad?”

“Mad?” she crossed the room and hugged him.
“How could I be?”

Callan tensed before he relaxed enough to
return the embrace. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

Emotional, she blinked rapidly. A burden she
was not aware of owning lifted when she hugged her twin after
they’d been apart so long. “I forgive you Callan, but only if you
promise never to do that again!”

He chuckled and hearing his warm laugh made
her want to laugh too. After an extra tight hug, he broke the
embrace to meet her eye. “I promise.”

A little alarm started at his words. The
feeling was too small for her to give any notice when she was so
full of joy. “How did this happen?” she asked.

“My becoming infected?”

She nodded. “And everything else.”

“I’m ashamed to admit the story, in
particular to you.”

She shook her head. “Do you think there’s
anything you’ll say that will make me run now?”

He sighed. “You never know, I did things I’m
not proud of.” He ran a hand through his jet black hair that was so
much like hers, only much shorter. His emerald green eyes grew
somber and serious. “I was wasted one night…who am I kidding? I was
wasted
most
nights. I’d found friends who helped me access
alcohol. This night I didn’t have enough money for a cab and my
friends had left. I stumbled toward my hotel, but didn’t make it. I
can’t recall exactly how it happened. I was lost and fell into a
dark alley by mistake. I startled an animal there and it attacked
me. I was sure I would die in the filth of the street. Honestly, I
felt I deserved it. Following the attack, I knew nothing but pain,
nausea and hot and cold flashes. When morning came I was shocked to
find I was alive and even more surprised to find no evidence of a
wound or any attack. I felt surprisingly invigorated, especially
after being out all night. I shrugged the attack off as an alcohol
induced nightmare and tried to go back to my life, if you could
call what I’d been doing a life. I lost interest in wasting my time
on things that made me forget about mom and my anger towards
dad…and how I’d left you. I suddenly wanted to go walking at night
and the urge became worse as the moon waxed full. I didn’t know
what happened until the full moon.” He shook his head and grinned.
“I might have remained a wolf forever if Tyson hadn’t found
me.”

“What’s it like? Being a wolf?”

“Incredible!” Callan said with a small
smile. “I hear, smell and see everything! I run faster and without
tiring! I have strength I could never achieve in my mortal
body.”

Her forehead creased and he noticed her
puzzled expression.

“Don’t get me wrong, if I could go back to
my human self I would.”

“No, it’s not that. Tyson makes it sound
dreaded and awful.”

“Yeah well, Tyson hates being a werewolf
more than anybody I’ve met.”

The question she most wanted answered was on
the tip of her tongue, but now he was there she was afraid of the
answer.

“You’re holding something back,” he said,
tuning into her emotions as if they’d never been apart.

“I understand you were…or that you
are
a-a…”

“Werewolf,” he supplied.

“Yes.” Clara tucked a strand of hair behind
her ear. “Why didn’t you come back anyway? You are my brother, we
are
family
. Nothing can change that.”

“Believe me, I know. You would have accepted
and loved me regardless of my situation. I know you and I knew
that. You have to understand there are dangers in our world I would
rather not expose you to. I wasn’t going to let them get to you if
I could help it.”

She understood but it didn’t ease the pain.
Callan turned from her sad expression and went to straighten the
table and chair Mesha had knocked over. He handled each item like
they were fragile eggs and he might burst them. When everything was
situated he sat on the edge of the chair like it was made of
splintering glass.

“Tyson’s worried about your sanity,” he said
as he sat.

“Yeah, he told me,” she replied in a
huff.

He fidgeted and stood, pacing near the large
window. “Not many people have the courage to stare a monster down
and call him what he is,” he said as he walked.

“I only just found out what he is and he’s
not a monster.”

“I know, sis, but most anyone else would
have seen it that way.”

Her face got hot and she knew Callan would
see through the feeble mask she tried to display. He watched her
and smiled.

“You are very defensive of Tyson all the
sudden. Did something happen I should know about?”

“No,” she answered without meeting his
eyes.

He laughed then fell onto the bed that
hadn’t been used. Lacing his fingers behind his head he stared at
the ceiling as if challenging it. “How’s dad?”

“Bitter,” Clara answered honestly. “He
hasn’t changed since the day you left.”

Her brother didn’t move. “I wish I could go
back.”

She went to sit on the bed near him, resting
her back to the headboard. “Lots of people wish that about
different things. The fact is I’m glad we’re here and that we’re
together.”

He grinned and glanced at her. “Thanks, sis.
I do wish it was under different circumstances, but I’m glad to see
you too. It’s been hard to be away and not a day went by that you
weren’t in my thoughts. A part of me is angry at dad, but I miss
him.”

“We should call him,” she said brightly.
“I’m sure he’s starting to wonder where I went.”

“That would be nice, but we can’t. It would
put him in danger. Why do you think I never called you?”

“If Parker is after me why would he bother
with dad?”

“You don’t know how these people think, sis.
He would use dad to make you cooperate. I don’t think Parker knows
where dad is, otherwise he would have found you a long time ago. We
can’t leave any clues that will lead him to dad.”

She nodded. “Alright, alright.”

He stared intensely at the ceiling and she
knew he was getting ready to say something he’d rather not. She
wasn’t stunned when he asked the next question. “Did they ever find
anything more about mom?”
She suddenly became interested in picking at the ends of her hair.
“If they did, no one ever told me.”

“Do you think they told dad and he never
told you?”

Shrugging, she didn’t look up when he peeked
in her direction. “It’s possible. Dad hasn’t been much of a talker
lately.”

In one solid motion he sat up. “I’m sorry,
Clara. You never should have gone through all that on your
own.”

Unsure of how to respond, she nodded. He
looked as if he wanted to say more but the door bounced open. Tyson
and Mesha came in, Mesha’s eyes were alive and she glared at
Callan.

“You two,” Tyson pointed first to Callan
then Mesha, “need to sort out your differences.”

“I don’t have any differences,” Callan said
pointedly. “She’s the one—”

“I don’t care, you need to sort it out.
Clara, will you please come with me?” He spoke a little softer to
her.

“Where are you taking her?” Callan asked
quickly as she got obediently to her feet.

“To the store,” Tyson’s answer was lined
with a growl not suited for a human’s voice. Callan seemed all too
used to it.

“What about this one?” He pointed to Mesha
and she looked like she might bite his finger off. “She might need
something.”

“We’ve been already.”

“Oh.” He was crestfallen and glanced at
Mesha who glowered in his general direction. Tyson waved Clara out
of the room.

“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind. Ideally,
I would prefer you spend more time with Cal, but we have to get
going. Arrangements have been made for us at the new hideout. We
won’t get there for a few days and I thought you might want a
change of clothes in that time.”

“Of course, thank you,” she muttered.

Outside the overcast sky threatened to burst
and pour. The smell of autumn was on the slight breeze. The car
Tyson assisted her into was different from the one they’d ridden
out of the mountains. It smelled new and sported dealer’s
plates.

“You go through cars quickly,” she observed
when he got behind the wheel.

“We’re harder to trace that way.”

Unsure if he was serious, she stole a quick
look at him as they pulled out of the parking lot. Of course he was
reserved and distant, yet calm and collective as he drove. He
didn’t take her far and never went above the speed limit. He parked
at a general supermarket and switched the car off. Immediately he
dug in his pants pocket and produced a wallet. Extracting a few
hundred dollar bills, he handed them to her.

“Here, get anything you want or need.”

“I can’t take—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, cutting her off.
She eyed the money and shook her head. Anger shadowed his features,
but the moment passed and he laughed. “Listen, Clara, I’m not sure
you’re aware how old I actually am.”

Instantly interested, she sat up straight.
“How old are you?”

Amused, the corners of his mouth twitched.
“I was nearly twenty-eight when I was bitten, but I’ve been this
way many, many years. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I would,” she said quickly.

“You wouldn’t, but that’s not the point.
I’ve had money in banks for ages. I’m sure you know what that
means.”

“It accumulates interest, but it’s still
your
money. My purse was in Mark’s truck, didn’t anyone grab
it?”

“Of course.”

She sat expectantly. When he was obviously
not going to produce it, she asked, “Well? Where is it?”

“Burned,” Tyson said as if that were the
only clear thing to do with a purse.

“What? Why?” Clara practically
screeched.

“Anything that could be traced to you was
burned…along with your car.”

She shook her head and looked away with an
incredulous laugh. “How can you burn someone’s things?” she asked
heatedly.

“I didn’t, but it was the only thing to do.”
Tyson held out the money again. “You could buy a new purse.”

Without further hesitation, she snatched it.
“As far as I’m concerned, you owe me the value of my car at the
very least!” She threw her door open and marched toward the store’s
entrance. She thought she’d have a few seconds to recover from the
shock of learning her things had gone up in smoke, but had
forgotten his inhuman speed and he matched her pace stride for
stride. In the store Tyson, a habitual leader, led the way passed
aisles. The lights reflected in the shiny, waxed surface of the
floor and seemed to move when they walked. It was before five on a
weekday and the store wasn’t very busy. She noticed older couples
and a few couples pushing shopping carts, some with small children
in tow.

Tyson’s rapid pace brought them to an aisle
of luggage and travel bags. He pulled a black nylon duffle bag off
a metal shelf. “Here,” he said and pushed it in her hands. “Use
this. It will save time.”

“Thanks.” She pulled the strap free and
slung it over her shoulder.

“I have to get some things. Will you be able
to manage on your own?”

“Of course.” She waved him off.

She quickly found everything she needed,
going from department to department and perusing the merchandise.
She was in the jeans looking at a pair she liked when she noticed a
young man eyeing her. At least, she thought he was eyeing her. His
black, glossy hair was combed in such a way that his bangs covered
his face and he had to continuously jerk his head in order to see
at all. He was a teenager, probably still attending high school,
and he wore the store’s uniform. He straightened a display of
cotton shirts as he watched her between twitches. She ignored him
and went the other way. When she looked again, he was gone and she
went back to find the jeans. She was startled from her shopping
when the boy returned with a man in a security guard uniform.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked as he
approached, stopping at the rack she stood near. “Are you Clara
Rita?”

“No,” she lied quickly, feeling trapped and
suddenly very alone. “You have the wrong person.” Her attempt to
put some distance between herself and the guard was thwarted when
he took a hold of her arm.

“I’m going to have to ask for ID,” he
stated.

Panic gripped her as she stared into his
brown eyes. “I don’t have my ID. If I’d known I’d be interrogated
in the middle of shopping, I would’ve brought it.”