Bright Moon (33 page)

Everything came in a rush—the vibrant
colors, the sounds, the smells. She could sense the rest of
Parker’s men reacting to the new threat and moving to kill whomever
they could reach first. Callan’s emerald eyes flashed in her mind
when she reached down to rip the silver blanket off him and sprang
at another of Parker’s men, all of which she did before even a
second passed. She ripped the silver blanket off Mesha the next
second. Callan attacked behind, stopping Parker’s wolves from
burying her outright. Shots began ringing as she attacked in a
manner she never imagined she could. Her mind was suddenly one with
her pack. She could hear their thoughts, feel their emotions
without touching them. She sensed her brother’s pain when he took a
bullet to the shoulder. Jack’s pain blossomed bright red behind her
sight when he accidently ran over one of the silver nets and his
feet burned. Their thoughts and emotions flooded into her until she
thought she would be weakened, but her new form allowed for it and
even gave her strength, letting her attack with more precision.

Tyson’s thoughts and emotions were unlike
the others. Each of theirs flooded forth as if they could not be
contained by their minds alone, but Tyson was reserved and allowed
very little from his mind unless it was in a fit of utter and
complete fury. His thoughts turned to Parker and the heat of his
emotions began to bubble forth. Distorted images flashed through
her mind when he leapt upon his prey, ripping his head from his
body.
So much for immortality,
she thought.

Slowly, the surrounding action began to die
as Parker’s men fell or fled. The pack paced about when the final
contending rival went down with a cry. They stood still a moment,
listening. When no one offered a challenge, they came to her,
pressing their noses into her sides and face. Relief washed over
her and the rage dissipated. She fell back, suddenly in her human
form without the anger to sustain the wolf. She reached out and
grasped the nearest wolf snout, which happened to be Mesha. Pain
blossomed through her torso and she fell back again. Callan
appeared by her side in his human form, but his eyes burned golden
and he could not keep control. He touched the blood on her stomach
and stumbled backward, instantly transforming to a wolf.

The others paced and sniffed. Tyson appeared
over her, perhaps the only one able to hold his human form. Clara
snatched his hand as her vision darkened and her head felt heavy.
“Infect me,” she gasped. He growled and his eyes turned vibrant
yellow.

“Never!”

“You have to, I will heal,” she begged in a
whisper.

His body heaved when he growled and breathed
deeply. Mesha’s snout came between them and she licked the wound,
shooting a glare at Tyson. The infection took effect right away and
the wound healed. Even in her infected form she was weakened from
the repetitive loss of so much blood over a long period of time.
Callan approached, once again in his human form.

“There is work to be done here,” Tyson said
and glanced downward.

“We will deal with it,” Callan answered.
“Take her away.”

“Clara,” Tyson said gently. “Do you think
you can ride?”

“Yes,” she answered, eager to do just
that.

The ground was slick with blood as he helped
her up. He morphed and crouched down. His emotions were black and
his mind in a dark place. He hid it all from her and kept his
exterior thoughts calm. He ran and she clung to him, trembling at
times. She said nothing for the first while, still trying to absorb
all that happened.

“
You were stunning you know,”
Tyson
thought, breaking the silence after a time.

“Stunning?” she asked.

“
Your wolf form—not that your current
form is anything less.”

“Now?” she asked in shock. “You think
now
is the time to tell me you think I’m stunning?”

Guilt ate at him and his ears fell.
“You
don’t want to hear it…right?”

She buried her face in his fur. “Of course I
do. It’s just…why didn’t you tell me before?”

“
Things were complicated before.”

“Mark showed me your journal.”

“
He…my what?”

“I think it was your journal. He said you
killed Angela.”

“
Maybe we should save that talk for
another time.”
Anger welled in him and he growled.

“I want to know…why did you do it?”

“
I thought you read it?”

“Well, not really. I didn’t want to so Mark
read out loud,” she confessed.

“
And he only read my confession?”

“I wouldn’t hear more.”

“
It’s a shame you wouldn’t, because the
entire story was there.”

“I want to hear it from you. There are a lot
of things I should have heard from you.”

“
I’m sorry, I wanted to tell
you.”

“Tell me then,” she insisted.

“
Not now, I need to focus or I won’t be
able to keep control.”

She could sense his temper rising each time
he thought of his brother and knew he wasn’t saying it to avoid
telling her the truth. She fell still and enjoyed watching the
trees and plant life zip by instead. Her body had changed since
she’d last ridden, her reflexes were faster and she could see the
passing world in more than blurs and shadow. Her hearing, she
noticed, was sharper as well. She particularly enjoyed hearing his
heart thudding away as he ran. She knew her senses were nothing
compared to his, but it was an improvement from a mortal’s
standing.

Presently, she could feel the infection
wearing off and she began to feel sleepy. Her grip lessened on his
fur when her fingers began to tingle. He slowed and came to a stop
not long after. She practically fell from him and landed in the
soft earth of the forest floor.

“Clara,” he whispered, his voice strangled
by emotion. He reached to take her in his arms, but stopped and
stood suddenly. The air whipped around them when a corpulence of
flesh tackled him from nowhere. They skidded in the dirt a few feet
before leaping to face one another.

“You want to keep her blood to yourself,
eh?” Felix taunted with an evil grin. He circled Tyson, his face
screwed in demonic pleasure. “She is rather…
delicious
, isn’t
she?”

Tyson snarled, his voice resounding
powerfully through the night.

“You have to share, old man,” Felix growled
back.

“Tyson,” Clara whispered, just able to
stand. “He can have what he wants.”

He glanced to her and shook his head. “
No
one
can!” His anger distracted him from sensing anything but
Felix. His body was like stone, ready to fight. Felix laughed,
enraging Tyson further. Leaves and dirt swarmed when two wolves
attacked from either side, completely catching him off guard. Tyson
was thrown to the ground again, this time losing a chunk of
flesh.

“NO!” Clara screamed. Her chest shook when
blood stained his shirt. The wound healed as the newcomers circled
him. One was brown and the other a sandy color. In an explosion of
black, Tyson rose up and took the brown one by the throat. The
other pulled him off, throwing him to the earth with a shudder. The
sandy wolf’s white teeth flashed when they met air as Tyson sprang
to one side, avoiding another attack only to encounter the sandy
wolf. Their barks and snarls were ferociously hateful and so loud
that nothing else could be heard but the rumbling of the forest as
they fought.

She was desperately searching to locate the
wolf in her, but it had since gone. Felix’s evil laugh was one
she’d heard too often and she longed to cleanse her mind of it. He
was suddenly at her side, blocking her view of the fight as Tyson
emerged after being buried. He yanked her back when she tried to
run, throwing her to the ground. All the while, she could not
locate the rage that fueled her wolf form.

“My father was a dog,” Felix said as he
placed a foot on her abdomen to keep her still. He reached up and
unpinned the gold eagle head at his collar. “Not a literal dog, but
filthy scum. This was his.” He held the pin out to her and it shone
in the starlight. “I suppose it was the one good thing he gave me.
I wear it to remind myself to be more than my father was…more than
a dog. Now I find myself in his debt, because if he had not given
me this, I would have nothing to use to penetrate your skin.”

“You can have it!” she said and held her
hand out to him. “Make them stop!”

“I will have what I want anyway,” he pointed
out with a shrug. Behind him, the forest shook. They had moved away
and she could only see them in shadow. Felix removed his foot and
jerked her upright, jamming the pointed needle into the heel of her
palm. He squeezed her flesh around the puncture and forced a large
droplet to form. Before he put her blood to his lips, he pulled a
gun from his belt. “Don’t try anything cute,” he growled. “Or I
will kill Jo and he will not have a chance at life.”

His lips sealed over the wound and she
shuddered again, her stomach rolling. He broke the seal and
breathed deeply, then waited. The grip he sustained weakened. Clara
tried to yank her hand back, but he wouldn’t let go. He clicked his
tongue and shook his head, holding the gun tauntingly. He put her
blood to his lips a second time and swallowed it down. When she
pulled against his grip, she was able to break free.

“Where are you going?” he asked. She crawled
backward and stumbled to her feet. Felix groaned and bent at the
waist, overcome by the transformation. She ran in the direction
Tyson and the other werewolves had gone, but the woods were still.
Hoping to hear them, she stopped short. She only had moments before
Felix evolved and she wanted to get ahead of him. A sharp bark
sounded through the night and she ran toward the noise. The forest
was dark and she couldn’t see where her feet landed. She listened
intently and slowed when she did not come across them. Strong arms
came around her, pinning her arms to her side. She screamed in
shock and kicked back. “Looking for someone?” Felix asked in her
ear. “It must be hard for you to see, shall we find him
together?”
“No!” she protested, but he lifted her over his shoulder and began
tramping through the undergrowth. Soon she gave up trying to break
free from his iron grip. He stopped a moment later and let her fall
to the ground. She sprang back up to find the brown and sandy
wolves had Tyson pinned. His body moved like shadow as he struggled
and she only knew he was there because of the brilliant blue
glimmer that shone from beneath them.

“Don’t kill him,” Felix said as they tore a
chunk out of Tyson’s shoulder. “I want to test my new abilities on
Jo.” He pointed to Clara. “She’s all yours.”

The wolves released Tyson and slipped into
their human bodies, one male, one female. Clara remembered seeing
them going about doing Parker’s bidding. Their blue uniforms were
spattered with blood. The sandy wolf had been the woman. She was on
the short side for a werewolf. Her hair was the same sandy shade as
her fur. They strode away from Tyson, intent on their chance to
drink the cure. Tyson roared and attacked without warning. The
sandy wolf was destroyed as Felix rose in challenge. Tyson knocked
him back and made for the brown wolf who had tried once more to go
to Clara. He landed on him and tore a bit of his shoulder and neck
out again and again until he fell, never to rise again.

“It’s only you and me, old man,” Felix said.
“Now that I’m used to my body, you will not catch me by surprise
again.”

“I won’t have to,” Tyson said, once again in
his human form.

Felix growled when Tyson backed away, going
to Clara’s side.

“Come and face me!” he snarled.

Tyson growled and seeing him do such a thing
in his human shape was alarming. He shook his head and pointed
behind his challenger. “I think they want you more than I do.”

Out of the gloom came four figures—Lobo,
Lyca, Dingo and Griseous. They emerged in their human forms, but
when they saw the man who killed their pack leader, their eyes
glowed yellow. They morphed all at once, their bodies shredding and
piecing back together in seconds. They fanned out and surrounded
Felix. Tyson took Clara’s hand, drawing her attention away.

“Their wolf instincts have taken hold. We
don’t want to be around when they finish with him.”

“Alright,” she whispered.

He picked her up and bolted from the fight.
Felix’s torment screamed after them not long after. When they had
gone a safe distance, Tyson found a small brook and put her down on
the bank. He transformed and drank the water, his tongue working to
expel the taste of blood in his mouth. She went to put a hand on
his shoulder, standing ankle-deep in the stream.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“
They tasted awful.”
The reply came
in desperation and he snapped bits of grass from the bank to chew
in order to chase the flavor out.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to help. I
was trying to morph.”

“
Clara—”

His words were lost when she withdrew her
fingers from him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry, I’m
sorry…”

“Hey,” he said gently, no longer a wolf. The
water splashed when he left the stream and his hands came on her
jaw and neck, turning her to look him in the eye. “Everything’s
alright. You’re infected. You can’t take on a wolf form when you’re
infected.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, still in
shock.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said tenderly,
drawing her close. He held her for a few minutes before gathering
her carefully in his arms. Her head came to rest against his
shoulder. Under all the blood and filth, she could smell the
familiar scent of pine, earth and fresh plants.

“I missed your smell.” Her words were
quiet.