Moonglow (23 page)

“What are you doing here?!”

All I see is dark blue. The sun is gone. Night has come. The truth is only moments away.

“Answer me, Dominy!” the voice shouts again. “What are you doing here?”

This doesn't make any sense. What is Caleb doing here? How did he find me? “You have to go,” I tell him, my voice sounding incredibly tiny compared to his shouting.

“Not until you tell me why you're shacked up here with Napoleon!” Caleb demands.

“What?”

Okay, now something makes sense. Caleb's comment answers my first question; he's here because he's jealous. But why? And how the hell did he know to find me here?

“You lied to me!” Caleb shouts.

“About what?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm not stupid, Dom!” he reminds me. “Bethany College is in Kansas, not Iowa!”

My mind goes blank until I remember the conversation we had about my visiting potential colleges. I was trying to make our faux excursion sound real, and all I did was make a mistake. At least we're getting closer to the truth,
his truth
for being here, but with a side glance at the sky I can see that we're also getting closer to my truth.

“I figured out that you lied to me, so I followed you,” he explains. “I can't believe he made you take your father's car!”

The blue in the sky is getting darker.

“Caleb, you're wrong. Napoleon isn't here,” I say, my voice starting to shake. “Now go.”

“This is his cabin,” he replies, his voice solid and strong. “Nadine told me her family has a place near the edge of the hills.”

My boyfriend's done being polite, and he bursts into the cabin. He pushes the door open, and because I'm still holding on to it, because I'm afraid to let go of something stationary for fear of passing out, I move with it. My father is less than a foot away on the other side of the door, but I don't see him. And neither does Caleb as he starts pacing throughout the room.

“Stop being such a douche, Nap, and get out here!”

When Caleb sees the door at the end of the small hallway, he pauses. He thinks he's discovered Napoleon's hiding place.

“So you want me to come and find you? Is that what you want me to do, you coward?!” he cries.

“No!” I scream.

I race in front of Caleb and stand between him and the bedroom door. There's no way I can let him see the cage my father built.

“Get out of my way, Dom!”

“Caleb, I'm begging you! You have to go!”

The way I'm standing—with my arms out to my sides—it truly looks like I'm trying to prevent Caleb from entering the bedroom because I'm hiding someone in there, and that's exactly what he thinks.

“Oh my God,” Caleb sighs, completed dejected. “He really is in there.”

Seeing his hurt expression, I don't care if he finds out what we're really doing here; I'd rather him think that I'm this disgusting, vile creature than think that I would ever cheat on him with someone like Napoleon. But I don't get the chance to explain what's really going on. My father takes the chance away from me. He comes up from behind Caleb and slams the gun down on the side of his head.

My boyfriend slumps into me, and I stumble back, slamming hard against the door. I try to keep him upright, but he's deadweight, and I'm unable to break his fall. I look down, and I see a bruise start to form on his temple, purple, and I think that it looks pretty against his blond hair, but I know it's going to look ugly when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

“What the hell did you do that for?!”

My father looks at me like I'm some ungrateful brat and points toward the window. “Look outside!”

I don't have to move; from where I'm standing I can see it. The change happened so quickly it was hardly noticeable. The full moon has replaced the sun. One moment it was daylight, and the next it wasn't. Usually it doesn't matter, but tonight is not like any other night. Tonight the moon is going to tell my fate.

“Get inside the cage!” my father screams.

But I can't move; I can't take my eyes off of the moon. My father opens the bedroom door and starts to drag me inside, desperate to get me into the cage, but I don't want to go; I just cannot go inside that thing. I feel like I'm spinning, like everything is completely out of control; I feel like I'm being dragged to my death.

“Dominy!”

I hear a voice somewhere off in the distance. I think it's coming from a man; it sounds like a man's voice.

“Dominy! Come with me!!”

The voice is lost to me; it means nothing so I don't turn to it. I turn to the only thing that matters. The moon. I look out the window and see the glorious full moon against a backdrop of deep blue. So beautiful, so powerful, so understanding. I have no choice, so I willingly give myself up to the moon as I hear my mother's sweet, angelic voice.

And then the transformation begins.

Chapter 17

My mother is wrong; her daughter is not blessed.

The pain is excruciating, and the worst part is that it's not the first time I have felt this way. It comes back to me in a blinding flash, a jolt, as if someone snapped an old-fashioned Polaroid camera, and an empty white light is followed by a crystal-clear image. Nothing, then everything. I remember everything that happened on my birthday, the night I killed Jess. I remember everything, because it's all happening again. And because I can remember, I want to die.

Just like before, the pain starts in my stomach, deep inside, where my soul is supposed to be, but I can't have one; there's no way I could feel such agonizing pain if I had a soul. It isn't only physical; it's emotional as well, and I know that my appearance isn't going to be the only thing to change; my mind is going to become altered as well. I am going to become a very bad person. Or to be more accurate, a very bad thing.

From the center of my body, the pain spreads out slowly in four directions and travels down my limbs. It doesn't speed; it takes its time so my mind can assess what's happening, so my mind can be aware and alert and afraid. It's a cruel pain. Vaguely I'm reminded of the one time I had to have general anesthesia when I had my tonsils removed. A few seconds after the doctor put the needle in my arm I felt a burning sensation, and I could literally feel the hot liquid travel underneath my skin. That's what this feels like, only amped up, ten times as hot. But whatever is attacking my body doesn't want to shelter me from the pain; it wants me to be a participant.

I look down at my left arm, and I can see something crawling inside of me, just under the skin, weaving, careful not to linger in one spot for more than a few seconds, but not in a rush. The pain wants to take its time; it wants to play.

I turn my right arm over, and I see the exact same thing, the same pattern, the same rhythm, and I know the same thing is happening down my legs. Wherever this pain is coming from, it's controlled; it's not unruly or disobedient; it has a job to do, and it knows exactly how to do it. I close my eyes because I remember what the next phase of its job is, and I don't think I can stand to see it again.

Screams echo throughout the cabin, and I don't know if they're my father's or mine—probably a combination of both. I lurch forward, no longer able to stand on my two feet, and my hands slam into the wooden floorboards. My face is inches from Caleb's, and I thank God—though his existence at this particular moment is questionable—that my boyfriend is unconscious. At least he doesn't have to bear witness to this revolting transformation.

The screams are joined by cracking sounds, one, two, three, four, and I know that my elbows and knees are breaking, snapping so my joints will bend in the opposite direction. The pain is so intense my body is on fire, and I start to shake; it's like the blood in my veins is starting to boil. I try to shake the heat and the pain off of me, but only end up hurling myself into the wall and quickly crashing back onto the floor. Once again the only thing I'm grateful for is that I feel the cold wood, not Caleb's body, pressing against my face. Underneath me I can feel my limbs scratch the floor, and the sound of sharp nails scraping and clawing and clicking against the wood sickens me, fills me with despair because I know there's no way to fight this; there's no way to turn back; there's no way to remain human.

It's only a matter of time before I'm completely lost within this curse.

Looking up I try to focus on things that have nothing to do with me so my mind can go elsewhere and not have to deal with what's happening to my body. On the mantel of the fireplace I see a photo of Napoleon and Nadine with their mother and a man who I assume is their father. It must be their father; he looks more like the twins than their mother does. It's a beautiful picture filled with sunshine and smiling faces; they're on the beach, maybe at their old home in Connecticut or some tropical island, some place where there's light and hope, some place that looks nothing like where I am right now. I wish I were standing next to them, frozen in time, smiling and basking in the sunlight instead of being devoured by the moon.

Another scream, and this time I'm certain that it's mine because the pain has entered the last stage. It feels like tiny pins, sharp, razor-like, are poking through my flesh, covering my entire body from the inside out. I try to scream again, but I don't have enough energy; every ounce of strength I have is going into breathing. Why can't I just die?! Why won't the angels and saints my mother always prayed to show me some mercy and kill me?! Why won't they take control away from whatever demon is doing this to me and remove my body from this agony?!

Because now it's too late.

This is NOT a blessing!

My flesh begins to tighten and harden, and when I glance at my arm I see that it's gnarled and knotted like I'm a burn victim who didn't have the good sense to die. I don't want to be that brave or stupid or heroic. I just want this to be over.

The razor-sharp pain returns, and I watch as my twisted flesh is covered by red fur that spreads out across my body like blood until my skin disappears. Gagging, gasping for breath I collapse as the nerves and muscles and veins inside of me acclimate to this vicious takeover. Slowly I adjust, and the fur covering me, encasing me, no longer feels bristly but soft and warm like a thick quilt. My new fur is the same color as my hair was when I was a girl. It's encouraging because it means there's a little bit of Dominy left; she hasn't been entirely erased. Before she recedes within the animal I've become, I have to make contact.

My father is huddled into a corner on the far side of the room, fear etched into not only his face, but every inch of his skin. I tilt my snout up, aware of how heavy my head has become, and stare at him. Hopefully my eyes look the same and he can see that it's still me; hopefully he isn't repulsed by what he sees and he can tell that under all of this is his daughter, his little girl.

When I hear the whimper behind me, everything changes. The little girl is ripped away, silenced, and in her place is something new and different and in many ways better. I notice that the nails on my paws are like curved white ivory, thick and massive, but tapering to a needle-fine point at the tip. I know that my body is lithe and muscular, and I feel invincible. I run my long, rough tongue over my teeth, and I feel that they're large and jagged and hungry. My senses are heightened, and I can see and hear and smell with more precision and clarity than ever before. Whatever demon or angel has cursed me knows exactly what it's doing. And I couldn't be more grateful. And this boy couldn't be more scared.

Although he's big, he's more child than man, and I can smell panic wafting off of him like disease on the wind. Slumped in a far corner of the room, he disgusts me and excites me, and I want to nuzzle my face into his body and rip his limbs from their sockets at the same time. I hear my panting get louder as I stroll toward him, lazily. I'm in no rush; there's nowhere for him to go, and there's no way for him to escape. So there's no reason for me not to take my time.

A puddle of fluid appears underneath his leg and spreads out around him, yellow with a strong aroma that stings my nostrils. It's his fear being released. I like when they're afraid, like the other one was before I killed her. Tasting their fear gives me more power, replenishes me. He looks just like she did, surprised and frightened, and he's wasting his breath begging to be spared. His words, like those of the girl who came before him, are useless.

This one has hair the color of the sun, and it repulses me so much that I can't look at it. Instead I focus on its eyes, brown like the dirt that gets crushed underneath my paws when I walk, much better. He's calling out to me, using the same name the girl did, must be common among these things, a word they use when they beg for their lives, when they don't want to die. Too bad I don't know what this
Dominy
means. If I did perhaps I would spare them their lives.

“Oh my God, Dominy! It's me, Caleb!”

He clings to the wall until he's upright and looking down at me. I sniff the ground, and the acidic aroma makes me dizzy; I shake my head to dislodge the scent from my body and howl. It's a long, thin, high-pitched cry, and it serves its purpose; it shocks the one in front of me so he teeters backwards and loses his balance. Now we're on the same level again; now he's going to find out who's superior, who's more powerful, who will survive.

Swaying my head from side to side I prepare myself, remind myself to lunge for the neck and pierce the flesh where the veins are visible so the blood will flow quickly, stain the ground, and release the life force. So the body can be mine. Now.

I spring forward, feeling my legs extend in front and behind me. I'm completely free, touched by nothing more than the wind that I create, hanging for a brief moment in the air like the moon. We are one and the same.

I lash out with one paw and my nails scrape this creature's arm, tearing away flesh, making blood squirt out in three horizontal lines. I touch down on the ground, only to spring back up, ready to pounce once again and rip more flesh away from the bone. But in midair I hear a crackling sound, what you sometimes hear when lightning flashes, and I turn to the left. The other creature is standing upright holding an object in its hand that's pointed toward me. I've never seen this object before, but I know that it has one intention: to destroy me.

I twist my body in the air and swerve to the left, avoiding the creature in front of me to land on the ground. This time the lightning sound is joined by a flash of light that flies past me and drills a hole into the wall, causing splinters of wood to spray into the air. The sound that comes out of my throat this time is a growl, low and guttural. The last sound that these creatures will take with them to their graves.

“Dominy, stop!!”

The one holding the object cries out to me, but I ignore him. I want the one with the yellow hair. I want to destroy the sun and consume his fear, make him die knowing that he was right to be afraid.

Once again I lunge into the air, my body stretched out, my red fur looking magnificent and sleek. I can see the scared creature under me, his arm shielding his face, one fear-filled eye visible, his body shaking uncontrollably. Then I hear the lightning sprint once more across the sky. It is the last sound I remember hearing before I'm struck by something that makes me fall.

“Dominy!!”

That word again! It's distorted, as if it's coming from miles away, but I know this thing under my weight is the one who screamed. His lips are moving, but I can't hear the words. I see the other one walking toward me but something's wrong with my vision; it's like my head is twisted on its side. The man is walking sideways as if his feet are touching the wall. What's happening to me? Why are my eyes closing? Why can I only see black?

When I pry my eyes open I have no idea how long it's been since I was last able to see. I'm lying on my side, and I can only see two pairs of feet standing next to me. I couldn't have been unconscious for very long; if I had been, these two would have fled. Staying near me means accepting death, and there's not a creature alive that would choose death over life. No, the interval must have been short. Whatever the dark-haired one did to me to prevent me from devouring his friend didn't work.

They're talking again as if I'm not here, as if they think I can't hear them. I don't understand their words, but I can follow their intent.

“Mr. Robineau, what's going on?” the yellow-haired one asks.

“I don't have time to explain,” the other one replies.

“But Dominy . . . she turned into that . . .
thing!
” he says, pointing at me.

How dare he call me a thing? I try to lift my head, but I think I only succeed in fluttering my eyes. It's enough though, enough for him to see that I cannot be defeated so easily.

“She's awake!”

The dark-haired one turns to me, and he's holding something else in his hands now. One side is thick and round and filled with a white fluid, while the other end is long and thin and silver. Silver. By instinct, I know that I have to avoid anything made of silver. I don't know why, but I know that it would be a fatal mistake to think that I could survive such an attack. Interesting. I may not be invulnerable, not yet, but I'm wise, and a wise creature knows its limitations. I don't have much time, I'm weak, but I have to try and escape; otherwise I may never have another chance.

I feign exhaustion and drop my head to the floor, keep my eyes almost fully closed, but open just a thin sliver so I can see the dark-haired man approach me.

“What's in the syringe?” the younger one asks. “You're not going to kill her, are you?”

“No!” the older one shouts. “It's only a sedative.”

Then for some reason the older one turns around to face his companion. It's a mistake.

“How could you ever think that I would kill my child?”

I leap forward, and even marred by fatigue, I'm stronger than him. I flail my arm so my paw slaps him in the back and sends him flying into his friend. Grinning, I watch the two fools fall to the ground into one heap. They're scrambling to break free of each other, screaming at each other and me, desperate to regain control of their bodies. But they're not fast enough.

My paw once again rips through the air and instead of hitting the older one on the back, I allow my nails to rip through the material that covers his flesh and dig into the skin. Body lurching backward, he screams, and I savor the sound, let it wash over me as I see the blood race from the cuts in his back.