Ghost Moon Page 3

He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk in the exact place Alia had been earlier. It bugged me that they did so much the same. As the oldest of the werewolves who had left the Lair, he deserved the respect he had earned. At the same time, I couldn’t help entertaining the want to challenge him to a good old-fashioned duel like we used to do in the Lair. He looked all too comfortable with humans; it would feel nice to remind him where he came from.

  “James showed me a video. It’s apparently all over town. How do you feel being the hero?” He shot me a smile as if he guessed the answer to his question.

  The urge to wipe his smile off his face made me clench my hands into fists. He glanced at them and his eyebrows lifted in question. I caught the look in his eyes before his usual calm wiped the expression from his face. He would welcome a brawl. The thought surprised me. Perhaps he wanted a fight as badly as I did.

  We had spent our entire lives surviving from battle to battle. Besides the few ghosts wandering around, it had been days without any threat to Brickwell or its neighboring larger city of Township. Was it possible I wasn’t the only one who missed the fray? I made a mental note to follow up on that later.

  “I’m not a hero,” I replied shortly. “I just couldn’t stand by and watch him get run over.”

  “Said like a hero,” Mitch pointed out.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t push it.”

  Alia’s phone beeped. “Time to close up,” she announced.

  I reached for the pile of clothes to finish, but Mitch beat me to them.

  “Go ahead,” he told me. “I’ll help close.”

  I looked from him to Alia. “You sure?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “We’ve got this.”

  I didn’t need to be told a second time. I left through the back door of the store, but not before the sound of kissing reached my ears. I shook my head and stepped into the alley. That was something I didn’t need to hear.

  The setting sun turned the sky into a million shades of pink edged in gold. The few clouds were bathed in rose and silver, and the town itself felt caught holding its breath as dusk eased into the cooler embrace of the night.

  I usually rode the bus back to Brickwell, but for some reason the thought of riding one didn’t appeal to me. I walked through the alleys I was beginning to know quite well and paused on the edge of Township where a grove of trees sheltered me from view of the closest houses. I dug up the bag that had been shallowly buried beneath the biggest tree. Dropping my shoes inside, I pulled off my shirt and pants and added them as well.

  Quickly, for propriety’s sake, I changed to wolf form. We phased so often at the Lair that being naked didn’t bother me. Yet I knew if someone wandering the woods came upon an unclothed man in the middle of the trees, it would cause a bit of chaos. My goal was to avoid stirring up trouble as much as possible, and I hadn’t proven very good at that.

  I nosed the bag back into the hole and buried it. There was something satisfying about using my paws to push dirt into the hole. The rich scent of the black loam combined with the earthy scent of the worms and beetles that called it home. It made me feel like a pup again to snuffle through the clumps in the search of a satisfying morsel. But worms and grubs didn’t appeal to me the way they had when I was younger and desperate for sustenance, and I left the thicket after ensuring that the bag was completely buried.

  I stretched my muscles and broke into a run. Wolves were known for the mile-eating lope that they could sustain for hours, and werewolves even more so. Bigger than normal wolves because our mass stayed the same in either form, we could run both faster and longer than our lupine cousins. I put it to good use on my return.

  My goal had been to go back to the Willards, but the thought that James had already shown Mitch and who knew who else the video, I altered my path a bit. Pausing in a grove near the far end of Brickwell, I pulled on a set of clothes I had buried in a bag there. I reluctantly slipped on the worn sneakers to avoid questions and walked into town.

  My footsteps slowed when I reached the bookstore. The Inking Post was looking a bit worn. Leaves and debris Virgo had always swept away cluttered the sidewalk below the stained glass window and door. The pane of glass Professor Shipley had broken when he stole a book of magic from the store was still covered in cardboard, but the top edge had come loose and hung partially open. I smoothed it back before opening the door.

  “Virgo?” I called out.

  By the smell, the warlock was inside somewhere, but the lights were out and only a flicker showed near the back.

  “Who’s there?”

  The warlock’s voice sounded small amid the shelves. I steeled myself and walked around the corner.

  The books that were usually stacked with such care lay in droves on a table I didn’t remember being there before. Bookmarks, pieces of paper, straw wrappers, and even a leaf or two earmarked pages from a variety of books. I couldn’t tell what they had in common just by glancing at them. Topics ranging from ‘Volcanoes of Hawaii’ to ‘The Psychic Psyche’, ‘Dogs and their Masters’, and ‘Interesting Facts about Leaves’ made up the pile closest to me.

  Wrappers from candy bars, fast food, and a vast array of chip bags had taken over the smell of paper and ink. Other books spilled off of chairs and were stacked in two corners high enough that I was afraid they would fall over and bury the form sitting on the only chair left uncovered.

  “Virgo?”

  The warlock lifted his cellphone and shined the light in my face. I squinted until he lowered it.

  “Zev,” he said quietly before he returned to the book he held.

  My heart ached at the sight of him. The warlock’s long blond hair that was usually pulled back in a ponytail hung in limp strands over his shoulders. Scruff covered his usually clean-shaven face. A smear of ink stained his pale cheek and matched the dark mess that covered his fingers. A quill pen, inkwell, and well-marked paper showed the source.

  “I thought quills were out of style,” I said in an attempt at humor.

  Virgo glanced at his pen for a moment, then up at me. “I ran out of regular pens and nobody bought this.” He held out an inky hand. “I had a bit of a struggle figuring it out, but it’ll do.”

  I looked at the books. “Do for what?”

  “Research,” he said without looking at me again.

  I watched him closely. “Research for what?”

  My friend’s face was paler than usual. The lenses of his glasses were smeared and more of the ink marked the bridge of his nose. Bags under his eyes and the sunken hollow of his cheeks made him look nothing like the warlock I had known a week ago. The loss of his mother on top of that of his father had taken its toll.

  “I need to know why he did it.”

  I didn’t reply because I didn’t have to. His father’s betrayal of their coven to embrace the dark arts had come as a complete shock to Virgo’s family. When his mother died to send the dead Clay had commanded back to their well-deserved rest, Virgo’s father had gone mad and nearly taken Virgo with him. It was only through luck and Isley’s help that I was able to drag Virgo away from the fire and send his father into it instead.

  Mrs. Willard had opened her home to both Virgo and his sister Jemmy, but after a few days, Jemmy told us she needed space and time to find herself again. She had closed her antiques store and moved in with her aunt in a neighboring city. Even though she had begged her brother to follow, Virgo had refused on the basis that he didn’t want to leave his store. I had found Virgo sleeping in his truck on two occasions, and at the Inking Post the rest of them.

  “He didn’t do it on his own, I’m sure of that,” Virgo muttered.

  I picked up one of the books closest to me and flipped to the bookmark. The chapter heading ‘A Study of Contrast’ was sub headed with ‘How Darkness Cannot Survive Within Light.’

  “Are you done with that?”

  I looked up to find Virgo watching me. I put the candy bar wrapper bookmark back in place and returned the book to
its spot.

  “Virgo, you need a break.”

  He shook his head. “Not until I find it. There has to be a link here somewhere.”

  I replied with the question I already knew the answer to. “A link to why your dad did what he did?”

  He nodded, his gaze already focused again on the book in his hand. I tipped my head to read the title along the spine.

  “‘The Warlock Conundrum’ by Gregory Wolfsbane.” I grimaced. “I don’t like that name.”

  Virgo gave half of a humorless smile without looking up at me. “You wouldn’t. But it’s interesting.” He tapped a place on the page he was reading. “Gregory’s written this as fiction, but he sure knows a lot about the paranormal.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat and then read aloud, “‘The warlock felt the power of the ancient oak through his fingertips. It reverberated along his arm and through his shoulder until his heartbeat matched the pulsing rhythm. Life flowed from the tree’s core and into the warlock, restoring him.’” He looked up at me. “You hear that? The life of the tree restored him. My mom used to talk about that, and here it is. How else would he know?”

  “Do you mean he’s a warlock?”

  “I don’t think so,” Virgo replied. He pointed to another pile of books. “He writes about werewolves, vampires, demons, and the rest with the same knowledge. I think he’s a paranormal scholar. I’m hoping my answer is somewhere within these pages.”

  I had never had parents, but it was easy listening to Virgo to understand what an impact parents had on a person. He was lost, sad, and wandering. The worst part was that I had no idea how to help him. I picked up a book.

  “Want me to research with you?”

  The warlock’s gaze lifted from his book and he gave me a true smile this time. “I thought you didn’t like to read.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t, but if it’ll help, count me in.”

  A scream made me turn. It was followed by another one.

  “What was that?” Virgo asked, rising.

  “No idea,” I replied. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

  Chapter Three

  We ran to the door. I threw it open to see a family of five standing in the road with terrified expressions on their faces.

  “What’s going on?” Virgo asked.

  The dad pointed toward the house a few doors down from Virgo’s store. “Something’s in there.”

  “In your house?” Virgo said as he and I joined them in the street

  Every member of the family nodded. Their wide-eyed expressions and pale faces made my stomach tighten.

  I eyed the open door of the house and tested the air by habit for any strange smells. A slight, sour odor wafted from the family. The familiarity of it whispered at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t remember where I had smelled it before.

  “Let’s go take a look,” I told Virgo.

  “You shouldn’t,” the dad of the family said. “You’re just kids. It might hurt you.”

  His wife nodded with tears in her eyes. “It killed our dog.”

  The daughter she held in a protective embrace burst into tears. Both the older boy and girl who stood with them had tear tracks on their faces. Whatever had happened had been traumatic.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Virgo said. He threw me a grin. “We live for this sort of thing.”

  I followed him up the front steps and couldn’t help repeating, “We live for this sort of thing?”

  “It sounded heroic,” Virgo replied over his shoulder. “Besides, we do, right?”

  I had to admit that putting ourselves in danger to protect humans was something we did on what was becoming a regular basis. No reason to stop now.

  Our steps slowed as we approached the door. The sour odor wafted strong enough that even Virgo covered his nose. The smell of blood colored the air as well.

  “What is that?” the warlock asked.

  “I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” I replied.

  A crash was followed by the sound of sliding footsteps. The chill-inducing skritch of nails on glass made my nightmare during Professor Shipley’s class come rushing back. My heart started to pound. I put a hand on Virgo’s shoulder.

  “Uh, Virgo? I think we should call for backup,” I said.

  He glanced at me. “What do you mean? We should see—”

  His voice cut off when the creature appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her hair was stringy and long. When she turned her gaze on us, the sight of her black eyes without irises made my blood run cold. She lifted one hand and opened her abnormally long fingers. A single drop of blood dripped from one of the deadly sharp claws at the end. It fell to the floor with a tiny splat that gave off a slight, canine scent.

  “Zev, what is that?” Virgo asked in a whisper.

  “I have no idea,” I replied without taking my eyes off of the creature. “But she’s dangerous.”

  He snorted. “Was it the claws that gave her away, or the blood?”

  I ignored his comment and placed myself between the warlock and whatever it was. She stalked into the room, her gaze predatory and alert. My instincts screamed that she didn’t belong, that she was an abomination, and that she would kill us.

  “Virgo, run,” I said quietly.

  He glanced at me. “What?”

  “Run!” I repeated.

  I picked up a lamp and threw it at her to shield our escape, but she moved even faster than I could. The door slammed shut. Virgo and I turned to find her blocking our exit. She was taller than me and hunched forward. When she grinned at our failed escape, her jagged teeth revealed the flesh caught within them. I tried not to think about whose skin it was.

  “I think we’re in trouble,” the warlock whispered.

  “Do some magic,” I replied. “Ward her or something.”

  “I can’t just ward her!” he shot back without looking at me. “That’s impossible!” He paused, then said, “But I can do this.”

  He whispered something and the runes on his hands began to glow bright blue. The creature’s grin twisted into a snarl.

  “You’re mine,” she hissed.

  Virgo grabbed onto her arm with his glowing hand. She jerked back, but he didn’t let go. He said something else in a language I didn’t recognize, and his runes glowed brighter. Smoke began to rise from where he grasped her skin. The creature’s eyes widened. She lifted her other hand and slashed downward. Virgo’s eyes were locked on her in concentration. He didn’t see the claws coming.

  “Virgo, look out!” I shouted.

  I barreled into the creature with my shoulder. It knocked her free from Virgo and pushed her back, but not before her claws tore through his skin.

  Virgo shouted with pain and gripped his forearm. Blood oozed out from between his fingers. The sight filled me with anger.

  “Enough,” I growled.

  I pulled off my shirt and phased before the creature could attack him again. When I was on all fours, she towered above me, but the wolf in me only knew two things; she was an abomination and she would kill Virgo if given the chance. I refused to let that happen.

  My snarl rumbled through the room. I bit at her in an attempt to make her back away from Virgo. The warlock stumbled to the side. I placed myself between them.

  “Mine,” she hissed again.

  The growl that tore from my throat must have said otherwise because she backed toward the door. I advanced, giving her no room to get past me. She stretched out a hand to stop me.

  When I snapped at it, she slashed at my face. I yelped at the fiery trail of claw marks across my snout. Enraged, I lunged at her and latched onto one of her arms. She lifted me completely up from the floor with inhuman strength and slashed at my exposed abdomen. I dropped before her claws could open my stomach.

  My body fell into the rhythm I had trained in my entire life. Defensive posturing, my muscles tight, and the ruff of my neck standing high to protect my vulnerable jugular and
spinal cord, I stalked toward the creature. When she lunged, I fell back. When she gave ground, I pressed my advantage, forcing her away from Virgo and the family in the street.

  I had never fought such a creature. At the Lair, we had been swarmed by countless demon hordes, phantoms, relics of ancient worlds, and dark denizens from the under planes, but I couldn’t place the creature I fought in any of those categories.

  For one thing, when I bit her, she didn’t bleed. Her flesh tore and tattered, hanging like battered sheets in a wind storm, yet no blood colored the skeleton beneath. I didn’t know how to kill something that didn’t bleed. For another thing, she made sounds that would cause the greatest beast to cringe. When she shrieked in annoyance at another slash of my fangs, it was all I could do to keep from cowering. And finally, the clove and apple scent of hunger mixed along with her sour odor. She wasn’t just here to terrorize; she was here to feed.

  I had faced creatures that were more petrifying; yet the memory of my dream hung in my mind. She was who had been chasing me. She had caused my heart to race with terror. I couldn’t help thinking that I was missing something. She was horrible, no doubt about it, but she wasn’t any worse than the fanged huge bat creatures who had picked up my brethren and sisters and flew high enough that the fall left them broken on the massive bricks around the Lair. So what was it I was missing? Why did my instincts scream to stay away?

  I leaped at her again, intent on tearing her jugular to see if there was indeed blood within her body. But with the lightning-fast reflexes, the creature grabbed me by the throat and lifted me into the air.

  “You’re mine,” she said with triumph in her raspy voice.

  I struggled until she unexpectedly pulled me close and put her forehead against my own. Her eyes changed. Instead of the shiny, pupil-less black void, swirls of white appeared. They whirled in mind-numbing patterns. I felt myself sinking inside of them, becoming a part of them, embracing the nothingness through which they swirled.

  The creature’s mouth opened wide. I could see it out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. A slimy tongue ran across her jagged teeth. She pulled me back just far enough that she could lower her mouth to my throat. I tried to care, I wanted to fight, but I couldn’t break free of the lethargy her hypnotic gaze had caused. I was about to have my throat slashed and I was unable to do anything about it.