Silver Moon (14 page)

She clears her throat. “Listen, I can’t stay on here for long. Mom’s already yelling at me.”

“Still upset about the trespassing crap?”

“Yeah, that and we spent the night in a barred cell.” She giggles. “Maybe Sean and I can come up and visit sometime.”

“I’d love that! When do you think you two could get up here?”

“Don’t know. I’d have to ask Mom. But check with your aunt and uncle first. I’m sure we could come up there soon.”

On my end, I’m totally jumping up and down in the kitchen. I’m glad no one can see me right now. I restrain a squeal and put my head on straight.

“Dude, this is going to be awesome. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither. Call
ya
later?”

“Sounds good.”

“’Kay. See
ya
.”

“Bye.”

As soon as I place the phone on its charger, I hear the front door creak. Stepping into the hallway, I see Beth pulling her keys out of the lock.

“You’re home early,” I say. “Hey, I need to talk to you. Just got off the phone with a friend from back home. Turns out—”

She interjects, “Since when do you hang out with Benjamin Conway?”

Uh-oh.

“I told you he’s nice to me. He’s taken me to and from school two days in a row now.”

Beth points at me. “Under my roof, you are forbidden to see him.”

The color drains from my face. It’s like she made a fist and punched me in the gut.

“I mean it,” she continues. “I’ve told you they’re nothing but trouble.”

“But he hasn’t—”

“Done anything? No, not yet, I imagine. He’s
using
you. There’s something you have that he wants, and he won’t stop until he has it.” She spaces out, somewhere I can’t see, like she’s in deep thought.

My chin quivers, and no matter how hard I try to stop it from shaking, it won’t quit. I feel like I’m in one of my weird ass dreams, and the world kind of swirls around me, making me light-headed.

“I hate doing this to you. I feel like the bad guy, instead of them,” she say, the corner of her eyes droop down in a sad expression.

I can’t say anything. My mind’s numb, along with the rest of my body. I can’t even move. Everything’s been going so well. For once I think I’m doing something right, for it to feel this
good
.

But I’m wrong. All of
it’s
wrong. We were born enemies, and we might as well die as enemies. Nothing will change that.

Beth’s at my side within a fraction of a second, cocooning me in her arms.
 

“I’m so sorry. I know you care about him—I can see it in your eyes.” She props her chin on my head and lets out a sigh. “There are many things that happen in life that we can’t explain. Some good, some bad. But of one thing I’m certain—in the end, it all works out.”

I barely nod, still having absolutely no idea what she means. I’ve never been one to follow any rules. That’s what caused me to be sent here in the first place. What’s stopping me now?

“Here,” she begins, steering me into my bedroom, “lay down, and I’ll bring you up some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” I whisper, trying to hold back the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.

Beth doesn’t say anything. She grabs a blanket from the end of my bed and throws it over me, tucking me in. I’m too busy drifting off into la-la land.

I stand in the middle of an open field—much like the one beside the house. The man stands ahead, his looming presence even worse in the fog. I can hardly see anything. I turn and run, but end up in a corn field. The stalks are at least ten feet high. There’s no way out.

I don’t know how he can run so quickly, but he catches up. His breath is hot against my neck. He doesn’t stop me, though. He
lets
me run.

Wind whistles through the tips of the corn stalks, all of them pointing in the same direction. I can feel him right behind me; it’s the same feeling as knowing something’s in the room with you, though you can’t see it. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

Kicking up more dirt, I run harder, faster. My legs blaze. My lungs strain for air that doesn’t come. The stalks bend more, and I think they’re pointing me toward an exit. I follow without reason.

Stupid corn.

Stupid trees.

Nobody ever points to the way out, just more silly ways to get me hunted by this crazed stalker. But right now, I don’t have much of a choice. There’s no way of knowing what he might do if he catches me.
 

I sneak a glance over my shoulder.

He’s gone. I don’t hear his rhythmic breathing anymore, either.

“This way,” some low, guttural voice lures up ahead. I definitely don’t want to follow, but I can’t stop my body. I’m being
forced
.

Besides, it’s not the same voice I’ve heard before. This one’s deeper, more menacing—a complete one-eighty from the last. An icy chill barrels down my spine.

Trees howl in the distance. Their voices drift upward, carried by the wind.

Then I realize it’s not the trees howling…

I wake up and stagger to my window. The eyes aren’t there, though. Sighing with relief and frustration, I flip the latch and open the pane for fresh air. As much as I hate the cold, tonight is different. It’s a stark reminder that I’m alive, even if I do have haunting dreams. Nature has its own way of telling me my nightmares are fictitious, as if the words
it’s just a dream
are riding on the edge of the breeze.

The damp atmosphere sends a draft into my room, and I close my eyes. I have no idea what these dreams mean, but for the first time in awhile, I know they’re not just coincidence.

I have to do something. Let someone know. I can’t keep running from my problems. The longer I wait, the harder it’ll be.

Fleetingly, I wonder if Jana’s up. With all this commotion about staying away from Ben, and her and Blake judging me, there must be something I’m missing.

“Hello?” She answers on the second ring.

I walk in circles in the middle of my room. The cordless phone is fixed between my ear and my shoulder. “Hey, it’s Candra.”

“Oh, hi,” she says, not sounding the least bit thrilled.

I blow excess air out of my mouth, hoping it’ll relieve some butterflies. “I need to ask you something.”

She hesitates, then says, “Go for it.”

“That night, at the movies, you said something about Ben marking me.” I pause, tilting my head toward the ceiling, trying to gain a little bit of courage. “I know I asked you about it the next day, but you never clarified. Actually, you kind of blew me off by saying it was just a joke, which I totally didn’t believe for a second.”

Jana remains silent.

I continue. “What did you mean?”

She nervously laughs. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just that you were marked as his or something. I don’t know. Sounds stupid, right?”

She’s lying. I’d place money on it. “Right. So, that’s why you and Blake left me high and dry? That’s why both of you gave me evil glares? Doesn’t make sense, Jana.” Okay, the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

Seconds roll by before she asks, “How much do you know, exactly?”

I frown. “Know what?”

“I’m afraid if I tell you, I’ll say too much. So, let’s start with the basics. How much has your family told you about this town, about you?”

She doesn’t have to ask me again; I know what she’s hinting at. This town is full of surprises, especially the one about werewolves being alive and well. I’m sure not everyone knows, but those who do have chosen their side.

“I know too much, I think. Things…aren’t what they seem around here,” I say with uncertainty. How much would be
too much
when explaining things to her?

“So, you know. It’s not an everyday occurrence to hear about werewolves around here, Candra, as crazy as that sounds. Not everyone knows.” She forces a sigh out. “When I said that, I didn’t think you’d take it literally. Ben’s kind, but they’re not the nicest people. I only wanted to look out for you. You
have
to believe me.”

I huff, “Yeah, seems like everyone is telling me to stay away from him.”

“Well, you should listen to us. We’ve lived here longer than you. We know how they are. I know about the sides, too. Basically, Blake and I aren’t among the Conway Followers. We try to avoid them at all costs. You can’t. You were born into this war, Candra,” she says.

“So I’ve been told…”

“And when I mentioned you being marked, well, it could mean a couple of things. Either he does want to be with you, or he wants something from you. I don’t know which one.”

For once, I want to trust someone. I want to push their ideas and theories into the core of my soul and flush them through my body, believe everything they’ve told me. I don’t want to be in the center of this battle. Not once did I ask for this.

“I believe you,” is all I tell her before hanging up the phone.

Chapter Fifteen

I
f my parents knew about this battle, why’d they send me here? I can’t picture them throwing their only child into the middle of a battle without weapons or an army behind her.

There are only two people who can answer this question for me—Randy and Beth. One happens to be home now.

“Beth?” I call, bounding down the stairs.

“In here!” she yells from the living room. I find her sitting on the couch with a worn book in hand.

I tilt my head to read the spine. Gold flecks once made up letters, words. Now there’s nothing left.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

“Shakespeare. He’s one of my favorites. It took me decades to understand the meaning of his lines, but once I learned, I couldn’t put him down.” Her eyes twinkle under the light of her reading lamp. She gently closes the book, as if it might crumble with any extra stress, and lays it on her lap.

“I need to ask you something.” I suddenly feel stupid for wanting to know why I can’t see Ben. But, instead of asking about him, I blurt, “Why did my parents send me here, if they knew about the battle between our families?”

Beth places her book on the end table. She sits up, hands in her lap, and says, “Because they don’t know the extent of it, how bad it’s gotten.”

I fall into the recliner. “How can they
not
know?”

She inhales sharply. “Well, because I’ve never told them. I never thought they needed to know. It began many years ago, but the
Conways
kept their distance. They weren’t
as
much of a threat…until you arrived.”

My gaze lowers to my hands, which are doing absolutely nothing in my lap. “I’m the one who stirred up old dust.”

I don’t get it. Sure, they want me gone. Does it have to be like this? What if I can change it? I know what I have to do, and it involves speaking to Ben. I’m not sure he’ll even listen to me, though. He is, after all, a
Conway
.

“Technically, yes. But is it your fault? No. We’ve known for a very long time it would come to this. Not only do they want your power, but they want to get rid of you. They just can’t figure out how. You’re protected by others, and you don’t even know it.” Her lips curve.

“Like who?” I press.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, c’mon. This town is full of surprises and secrets. You could at least tell me who these people are. I’d like to meet them,” I say, crossing my legs. This just got interesting.

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’d know who they are. They’re called Watchers, ghosts to you. They have specific orders to relay anything that happens to you to me and Randy. If you’re in danger, they’re there to help.” Her expression changes from day to night—total seriousness to being worried.

Leaning my cheek into my palm, I ask, “How does that work?”

“We can communicate through images and thoughts, without having to transform,” she replies. “Once they pledge their loyalty to us, they are gifted with the ability to speak as we do.”