Crying for the Moon (20 page)

“Look. Peter left because he’s a dangerous person now. He didn’t want to expose you to seeing him like this or risk something happening to you. It’s better if you just pretend you don’t have a brother anymore.”

“I love my brother.” Julie’s fear suddenly evaporated; her chin lifted stubbornly. “Warts and all. That means I don’t care if he’s gay, or a werewolf, or a Red Sox fan. He’s my
brother.
”

“He’s your brother and he’ll be devastated if he and his friends kill you tonight. So, do me a favor, okay?” He indicated the spare room. “Lock yourself in there
now.
Don’t come out before morning.”

Julie’s eyes widened but she hurried into the spare bedroom without another word. Alex waited until he heard the key turn in the lock before heading downstairs. As he moved off, he heard Julie drag a heavy piece of furniture in front of the door.

Tate entered the house just as Alex reached the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry we’re so late,” he said cheerfully, but Alex could hear the stress in his voice. “The van broke down, but Tish seemed to know what to do, so we got it limping along again. I think it’s looking at some major repairs in the future though.” He gave a startled little yelp as Alex swept him into an embrace and kissed him hungrily.

Alex winced when Tate’s fingers curled around his injured arm. Tate broke off the kiss.

“What’s this?” he asked with concern, his fingers exploring the bandage underneath the sweatshirt sleeve.

Alex explained. “It was getting late so we decided to remove Peter’s bandages. It hurt and he reacted. He didn’t mean to swipe at me. Werewolves just get testy when it gets close to the full moon.”

“You sound like Sparky’s people making excuses for the time he bit the mailman,” Tate said repressively. “How bad is it? Come on; there’s no use trying to pretend with me. You know I’ll see it in the end.”

Alex hesitated. He’d been tempted to downplay the injury, but he knew Tate was right. “It’s just a scratch. Okay—a bad one. But I’ll be all right.”

Tate let it go for the moment, but Alex could tell he wasn’t through with the topic by a long shot. He glanced back toward the door. “Are Tish and Duncan coming in?”

“Not likely,” Alex said. “Nick and Peter are upstairs in my room with plenty of food. You guys cut it pretty close. What did Tish want with you this afternoon?” There had to be a reason why Tish had invited Tate for the trip into town.

“Tell you later,” Tate said. “Where’s Julie?”

“Barricaded in the spare room. Literally. I think she’ll be safe enough there.”

“I guess it’s just you and me then.” A smile stole over Tate’s features. “How ever will we spend the time?”

T
ATE
left in the morning as soon as the full moon was no longer visible as a ghostly image in the dawning light. He had insisted on re-bandaging Alex’s arm first. “You call this ‘not bad’?” He’d not been pleased at the sight of the puckered and angry flesh.

“It’ll be fine,” Alex had lied, ignoring the painful throb that had set up in his arm. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll sleep for a while in the coffin and it’ll heal without even a scar.”

That had seemed to mollify Tate a bit. “I don’t want to leave, but I have to at least pretend to work,” Tate said, as he got ready to go. He kissed Alex several times at the doorway, postponing the actual departure. “I’ll be back to check on Peter this afternoon.”

They’d attempted to look in on Peter that morning, only to find Nick and Peter sprawled across the bed. Peter had been on his back, his mouth slightly open and emitting a faint snore. Nick had been lying on his stomach, with only a dark tuft of hair peeking out from underneath the covers. He had one arm flung across Peter’s body. Tate hadn’t had the heart to wake them. “They’re so cute together,” he’d said as they carefully shut the door.

“Better not let them hear you say that,” Alex had said. “I’m pretty sure werewolves don’t do cute.” He was just relieved that his bedroom was still intact and relatively unscathed, despite a faint doggy odor.

“So tonight’s the last night they change in this cycle?” Somewhere along the way, Tate’s pronunciation of the word
change
had taken on the meaning that the were gave it. Alex wondered just how that had happened and if the conversation with Tish had something to do with that.

“Yes,” Alex answered. It had been the longest three days of his life.

“Well, I’ll have a better idea of how much longer everyone will need to stay after I recheck Peter later on. Don’t worry; they’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Alex watched Tate drive off. He couldn't explain it but, though he enjoyed having the company, he found it wearing as well. He debated getting a head start on the chores around the place, but in the end, he went into the living room and crawled back under the blanket on the couch. The blanket smelled pleasantly of Tate and still held his warmth.
Everything else can wait
.

It was late morning when Alex got up a second time. He could smell the scent of frying bacon and fresh-brewed coffee; it took him a moment longer to recognize the smell of baking bread in the air. Bemused, he paused in the kitchen door to watch Duncan, a dish towel thrown over one shoulder, as he wiped the countertop with flour-covered hands. Alex didn’t even know he
had
flour.

Duncan looked up at his approach. “There’s food if you want it.” His expression said he knew that was unlikely, but he was polite enough to offer just the same.

“You’re industrious this morning.” Alex looked around at the wreck of his kitchen and hoped Duncan meant to continue cleaning.

Duncan gave him a little smile that suggested he knew what Alex was thinking. “It’s par for the course,” he said with a little shrug, pausing to rinse his hands. “It’s the last night of the change. I always get the urge to fix or make things about now. You should take advantage of that.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Alex said dryly, helping himself to a mug of coffee. A thought struck him. “Duncan,” he asked, “why do you think the were and vampires hate each other?”

Duncan rinsed out the sponge he’d been using to wipe the countertop and laid it by the sink. “Competition for the same food source, most likely,” he said. “Maybe recognition that we’re each other’s natural enemies, as nothing else could easily hurt us. Peter thinks we’re all from outer space and we’ve been at war for millennia. He thinks we destroyed our home world and brought our battle to Earth.” Duncan’s grin told Alex what he thought of Peter’s hypothesis. “Why do you ask?”

Alex smothered a chuckle. “And Peter thinks the real reason he hasn’t risen to the heights of academia is because he’s a werewolf. He told me that one too—and the one where the coffins are genetically coded to only recognize certain individuals.” Alex shrugged as he continued. “Tate asked me last night and I didn’t have a good answer. He said it seemed to him to only make sense that we, as supernatural beings, that is, would want to stick together against the humans.”

“Tate is an unusual human,” Duncan admitted.

“He is, isn’t he?” Alex couldn’t help smiling, pleased on Tate’s behalf that he passed some sort of weird werewolf test.

Duncan removed the dish towel from his shoulder and carefully threaded it through one of the cabinet handles to dry. “What’s the one thing you miss most about being human?” he asked. He began running water in the sink to wash the dishes.

The unexpected question caught Alex off guard. This was the sort of conversation he might have with Peter, not Duncan. He never thought about it before, but he’d supposed that Duncan only tolerated him because of Nick and Peter’s friendship. It was startling to realize that maybe he hadn’t been paying attention. He shook his head. “I was practically born to the Life, Duncan. I know no other way. What about you?”

Duncan glanced at the oven, where the smell of baking bread wafted out into the room.

“I miss bread,” he said simply. “I miss the way food tastes. I miss enjoying a meal cooked with laughter and love among your friends. These days, I’m always so hungry I just bolt it down without thinking about it.”

Alex nodded. It wasn’t that he couldn’t eat food; it just had very little flavor to him. He was seldom hungry for one thing, and when he was, only blood would answer. Well, that or the Godiva.

The moment hung in the air between them and then Duncan abruptly changed the subject. “Nick tells me you have some electrical issues. Let’s make a list and tomorrow I’ll head into town for the supplies so we can set things right.”

He was tempted to protest, to say that it wasn’t necessary, but the truth was he could use the help. And he recognized Duncan’s need to feel useful as well. “Just remember, you volunteered.” He chuckled. Duncan had no idea just how bad the wiring problems were around here.

Chapter 8

“O
H
MY
God, this is amazing.” Tate’s voice was full of awe as he poked and prodded at Peter’s flesh. “Look at this! The lacerations we were unable to suture have almost completely closed down!”

Alex glanced at Peter’s face, which seemed to reflect equal parts embarrassment at the examination and pride in his ability to heal. Nick, on the other hand, looked both concerned over Peter’s welfare and relieved that Tate thought he was doing well. Alex was tempted to reach out and pat Nick on the shoulder but he knew how prickly he was about being touched by anyone outside his pack.

Tate checked the readout on the digital thermometer. “Your fever is down too.” He was obviously pleased at how rapidly Peter was recovering. Alex had a moment of regret: once Peter was well, there would no longer be any excuse for anyone to hang about the place, and everyone would leave. He suspected that any sense of relief at being alone again would be short-lived.

Tate announced that Peter was well enough to come downstairs for a few hours, and somehow they all found themselves piled in various heaps around Alex’s living room, watching
Galaxy Quest
. Duncan and Tish looked on in much put-upon amusement as Peter and Nick quoted lines from the movie. Halfway through the movie, Nick and Peter got into an argument as to whether it was the
suns
of Morvan or the
sons
of Morvan. Alex watched the animated discussion silently and discovered within him a fierce joy as he did so. He caught Julie watching them both and he wondered if she realized everything Peter had gained or if she could only see what he had lost. She’d been very quiet all day.

Tate checked Alex’s injury just before they headed up to bed. “That’s pretty ugly,” he said after unwrapping the wound and disinfecting it. He was obviously unhappy with how it looked. He laid the back of his hand across Alex’s forehead. Alex was conscious of that small tightness around his eyes and the sensation of being flushed that indicated he probably had a slight fever. He was so rarely ill that he’d scarcely given it a thought before now.

“I can give you some antibiotics,” Tate added uncertainly. He placed more ointment on a non-stick pad and rewrapped Alex’s arm.

Alex shook his head as he watched Tate’s skilled manipulation of the bandaging material. “Not necessary. If it gets any worse, I’ll just spend the day in the coffin.” Of course, that would mean he’d need a blood meal directly on rising. Tate’s eyes were dark when he looked up but Alex sensed an acceptance of this fact.

He looked down at his neatly wrapped arm as he picked up his sweater. “Tate,” he said slowly, as he peered at the bandaging material more closely. “Are those hearts and bones?” He indicated the brightly colored, flexible wrapping covering the gauze pad.

“It was either that one or the mice and paw prints. I’m a vet—so sue me.” Tate grinned.

The final night of the change passed without incident. Julie locked herself in the spare room again. Tate had produced an air mattress, which had proven to be moderately more comfortable than the couch. Tate wrapped Alex in his arms as they slept together, sharing a degree of intimacy that had nothing to do with sex. Alex lay for a long time, staring out the window at the clouds as they scudded, thick and gray, across the night sky, blotting out the full face of the moon at times. With Tate tucked in close behind him, Alex could feel each breath that he took. It wasn’t until he closed his eyes that Alex realized he’d let his own respirations slow until they’d matched Tate’s rhythm.

In the morning, Tate left early, as before.

Shortly afterward, Alex ran into Julie in the kitchen, looking as though she hadn’t slept a wink. “I need to speak to Peter before I go,” she said to Alex. “Only the door to their room is locked and they aren’t waking up.”

Tish came in on the tail end of Julie’s complaint. She looked sated and pleased with herself and she responded to Julie with a yawn. “They probably won’t wake for a while. We’ve been up all night, you know.”

“Well, some of us have to go to work, you know.” Julie mimicked Tish slightly, enough to be insulting but not enough to get called on it. “I haven’t had a chance to speak with Peter in private since I got here, and I have something to say to him. Alone.”