Silver Moon (11 page)

“I have these crazy dreams.” They’re
dreams
, so why do they bother me so much? “It’s nothing, really,” I say, quickly changing my tone and waving off my words.

“It sure doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me. You look awful. I mean, I hate to be the one to tell you.” She pauses, biting her lower lip. “Candra, if there’s anything you want to tell me—”

“There’s not,” I interrupt her, turning away and sitting my cup in the sink. “It’s just dreams. Dreams aren’t real.”

“Okay, well, if you change your mind, I’ll listen,” she says, patting me on the back. I nod, as she leads me into the living room. “Whenever you’re ready to do this, we’ll go.”

“Let’s go then. I’ve been ready since this morning.”

Outside, the air is as thick as concrete. Clouds lay low in the sky, creating a blanket of grey. We load up in Beth’s white Infiniti. She quickly turns a few knobs, trying to get the heat rolling, but the vents blow chilly air. My legs shake and I rub my hands together, since I’m not wearing gloves.

“I think this weather is getting worse,” Beth says, glancing through the windshield.

“I h-hate c-cold w-
wea
-weather,” I stutter.

Beth frowns. “I’m sorry, Candra. The engine will be warm soon.”

Heat circulates through the car by the time we reach the stop sign at the end of the street. I hold my hands in front of the vents, so they can defrost. Beth glances at me for a second, and then pays attention to the road.

“So this
Magena
…” I begin. The heat starts to relax me, and I lean back against my seat.

“
Mmhmm
?” Beth questions.

“What’s she like? Is she one of us?”

The crook of Beth’s mouth jerks. “She’s a lot older than Randy and I. She also doesn’t take sides. Ever. She doesn’t agree with the constant battle we’ve fought for decades. Be sure not to bring it up. We don’t want to upset her. There’s no telling what she might do,” she warns.

“But why doesn’t she pick sides, especially if she’s friends with you?” I ask, situating myself so that my body is turned toward the driver’s seat. The vent next to my window blows heat, feeling like it could scorch a hole in my jacket. I crack my window.
 

Beth glances at me, but doesn’t say anything about the cool air rolling through the car. Instead, she says, “Nobody asks her that. I can’t tell you.” She shrugs. “I do know that she comes from a very old line of werewolves. They believe in peace between humans and our kind. She stays out of our problems, and doesn’t ask questions.”

“Why don’t they ask her?” I stare out my window. The frigid air licks my forehead and makes my skin bristle.

“Someone asked her once, and they were literally kicked out. She’s made it crystal clear that she wants nothing to do with our families going back and forth with each other.”

“Okay,” I start, “no mentioning the
Conways
or anything having to do with people taking sides, and I’ll be good to go.”

“Right,” Beth confirms with a nod.

“What if she brings it up?” I glance out the window.

Beth falters before saying, “I wouldn’t count on it. She can be a tricky one, and she’s been known to test people. I’m positive she expects me to advise you beforehand of what she stands for.”

“Okay,” I say, pretending to zip my lips.

Magena’s
decrepit house is on the other side of town, surrounded by—surprisingly—a rainbow of flowers. Sure, the place is a bit creepy, but the flowers add color and life. Beth and I wait at the front door. I’m scared one of the wooden porch boards will snap underneath our weight.

The front door creaks open.

“Come in,”
Magena
says with a couple of waves of her left hand. Her right hand is occupied with a cane. Her hair is a mixture of salt and pepper, and puffs up like a blowfish.

I sneak a quick glance toward Beth, but she ignores me.

“Hey, Maggie,” Beth says once she’s inside. I’m close behind her.

Maggie shuts the front door and says, “Is this her? Bill’s daughter?” Her voice is croaky and razor sharp, like she’s been smoking for one hundred years.

“Yes, this is Candra.” Beth places her hand on my shoulder.

No, I’m Mother Theresa in disguise.

Maggie gives me one sweeping glance up and down, then grunts. “She’s a strong one. More than she knows.”

I just stand there, convinced this woman is loony. Maggie hobbles toward the kitchen without saying another word. Beth turns to me and says, “She’s dealt with magic and she’s good at deciphering the core of people. If she says you’re strong, then you are, though you may not know it yet. C’mon,” she says, leading me into the kitchen.

Maggie stirs a pot full of something that smells like a mixture of freshly cut grass and blood.

I want to vomit.

To redirect my attention, I take in the house. It’s cramped, and random stuff adorns the walls. The kitchen is a faded pink. Not quite Pepto-Bismol pink, but at some point in time it might’ve been. Dried herbs hang from the window and in the arched doorways. A doll made out of wicker dangles on the wall nearest the front door.

The woman’s a freaking witch doctor.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Maggie wheezes. Even while standing in place and stirring her poisonous soup, her breathing comes out strong.

“What are you making? It smells delicious,” Beth praises.

I shoot Beth a crazy-eyed stare. She catches it and mouths, “
What?
” at me. I roll my eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes, young lady,” Maggie says. I whip my head around and see that her back faces me. She’s still fixing dinner. Carefully, she turns, tapping her skull, and says, “I have eyes in the back of my head.”

I’m flabbergasted. Does she really…
 

Beth leans over and whispers, “Told you.”

“How’d you do that?” I ask.

“
Years
of experience, my dear. You have much to learn.” She places piping hot bowls of stew in front of Beth and me. She brings a loaf of sliced, dark bread on a platter and sets it in the middle of the table. “Rabbit soup. Eat up,” she roughly states.

I tempt fate and try the food. Believe it or not, it’s actually better than I imagined. Before I realize what happened, I’m scraping the bottom of the bowl and using the bread to clean it dry.

I’m shocked with myself, but scoot my chair back and take my dish to the sink.

“Have a seat, Candra,” Maggie says, tapping my chair with her wooden cane. I oblige. “What is it you want to know?” Her eyebrows crease and her gaze might be considered menacing.

“She wants to know—” Beth begins.

Maggie interrupts. “I asked
her
,
Elizabeth
. Let the girl speak.”

Beth folds her hands in her lap, giving a nod.

“What about these powers I’ll get on my birthday?” I nervously ask.

Maggie’s eyes glaze, as she stares off to somewhere I can’t see. “I’ll give you a rundown of the basics first. If, after that, you want to learn more, then I’ll be happy to tell you.”

“Okay,” I say, prepared to listen intently.

“We don’t know who the first werewolf was or how he came to have these powers. Even my ancestors whispered about who was first. Some say he’s still alive today. They say he’s wiser than anyone in history and that his powers are greater than all his descendants’ combined. We believe our powers now are fragments of his, broken and disbursed over time.” She says the words with great enthusiasm and great respect.

“How can nobody know who he is? I mean, someone had to know him at some point.”

“Only those in dire need of his help may utter his name,” she says, resting her chin and hands on top of her staff.

“That’s crazy. How can they call him if they don’t know what he goes by?” I snort.

“Don’t mock me, child. It is said by Ancients that you will know what to say at precisely the right time. Some say
he
speaks to
you
.”

“So, you’ve never met him?” I squirm in the wooden chair, as the back rungs press into my spine.

“I’ve never had a moment where I need him.” A deep, forced sigh escapes her lips. “Perhaps one day I’ll be honored enough to be in his presence.”

I think of something quick to say to get her out of the loopy daydreams about someone who may or may not exist.

“So it’s true that no one knows what their power will be until it happens?” I ask, interrupting Maggie’s thoughts. Beth remains eerily quiet.

“Correct,” Maggie says, with a swift nod.

“And I won’t necessarily get my powers as soon as I turn eighteen?”

“Some acquire their power when midnight tolls. Others may be late bloomers.”

“What if I don’t know what it is, even after it happens?”

“You’ll know,” is all Maggie says. One eyebrow rises, as if she’s tempting me to second guess her answer. “Anything else?” she asks when I don’t test her.

I shake my head.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve told you you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You just have to believe in yourself, believe in your family and friends.” Maggie nods for me to agree. When I do, she adds, “You have werewolf blood from both sides, not just one. You’ve also faced your enemies and stood tall, am I correct?” She lifts her eyebrows.

I throw a bit of confusion at her. How does she know about the fight?

Pushing it aside, I respond, “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, child.” She pulls herself out of her chair with great effort, waddling to the sink with her bowl.

“Beth, how does she know—” I whisper.

Her eyes grow. “No,” she says in a hushed tone, warning me.

I want to pursue this conversation further, but I don’t want us to get kicked out. I’m compelled to know answers. My mind reels with questions.

“How do you know about that?” I blurt, twisting around in my chair to view Maggie.

Beth makes an incoherent sound. I know I’ve probably screwed up.

Maggie grumbles, and then says, “Word gets around. Not many people defeat a Conway, let alone one who isn’t yet a werewolf.”

Chapter Eleven

M
aggie isn’t as mean and intimidating as Beth makes her out to be, but she still leaves thoughts lingering in my head. Who’s the mysterious Ancient who doesn’t have a name and has powers greater than anyone alive? How does she know so much about this town, when she tries to keep her nose out of its happenings?

After Beth and I get home, Jana picks me up.

“I’ve had the craziest day,” I tell her as soon as I plop down in the passenger seat. “I met this witch doctor woman. She can see stuff without actually
seeing
it, and she claims there’s some old guy who might be alive, but only aids those who need his help.”

“You’ve met Maggie.” She smiles at me.

“Yeah, you know about her?” My eyebrows meet my hairline.

Her eyes narrow, focusing on the road. “Everyone knows about her. She’s an Ancient.”

“How do you know about Ancients?” I question.

“The whole town pretty much knows about them since she arrived. Generations upon generations who’ve lived here talk about her. She never ages and she stays cooped up in that ratty, old house. It’s kind of weird.” Jana’s nose scrunches.

“Huh.” I can’t think of anything else to say. So, this town really does know werewolves are among them. Living and breathing, real-life werewolves. If everyone is aware of us, why hasn’t word spread? Do the
Conways
make the ones who know their Followers, and leave the rest to beg for mercy? That has to be it.

Jana pulls me out of my thoughts when she says, “I’ve never met her, though. I heard she deals with magic.” Her eyes light up like fireworks on the fourth of July.

“Don’t we all have a little magic in us from time to time?” I grin.