03 Long Night Moon - Seasons of the Moon (16 page)

Gwyn glanced at her over the work boots. She was inspecting the soles. “Like chemotherapy for AIDS?”

“No, not like that. Like…” She searched for a way to describe it without using the word “werewolf.”

“There’s no point talking fantasies, babe. You mean well and all, but I’m not one for dreaming.”

Rylie took a deep breath. “I’m not fantasizing or dreaming. Remember when I told you I’m a… you know… a werewolf?”

Gwyn set down the boots and let out a long sigh. “Rylie…”

“Listen to me. Please. I know you think it’s my crazy way of attracting attention because I’m depressed or whatever, but it’s not.” She paused, waiting for her aunt to protest, but Gwyn only watched her with sad eyes. It made Rylie’s heart sink. But once she started talking about it, she couldn’t stop. “Werewolves can heal almost anything. I haven’t gotten sick since I was bitten. Maybe if you became a werewolf too, you could heal the disease.”

“Babe—”

“It’s better than dying, isn’t it?”

“We’ve talked about this before, Rylie,” Gwyn said.

“You have to believe me! Watch this.”

She seized the glass on the bedside table and smashed it into the wall. It shattered and sliced into her fingers.

Gwyn shouted and reached for the nurse button, but Rylie grabbed her wrist with her free hand. “No! Wait!”

She held up her bleeding fingers. The skin had been lacerated, but she barely felt it. Her whole arm trembled with heat. She let out a slow breath.

When she wiped off the blood with a tissue, there were no injuries. Her skin was intact.

Gwyn’s mouth hung open.

“Look,” she whispered, turning her hand forward and backward. Her aunt dropped the nurse button and took her hand instead. Her face had gone bloodless.

“What…?”

Rylie gave a weak smile. “Don’t tell anyone. Just… think about it. This could save you.”

Someone knocked on the door. Scott Whyte stepped in, holding a big bouquet of fresh flowers and an apologetic smile. “Sorry to disturb,” he said.

“What are you—?”

Scott offered a hand to Gwyneth. “I’m Scott Whyte, a visiting psychologist who’s worked with Rylie. I wanted to offer my wishes for your good health.”

Gwyn’s mouth moved noiselessly. She stared at the glass on the floor. Eventually, her polite country upbringing overrode her shock, and she managed to say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He handed her the flowers and a little blue box. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a present.”

She opened it. A delicate gold chain with a single diamond rested inside on a bed of cotton. “Thank you.”

Rylie took a sniff. The flowers smelled normal, but there was a sharp metallic smell around the bracelet that wasn’t gold. It looked weird, too.
He’s cast a spell on it
, she realized.

“What’s that for?” Rylie asked sharply.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “For her good health. Didn’t I mention that?”

So it was a healing spell or something. She was torn between gratitude and worry.

“Very kind of you,” Gwyn said.

“Merry Christmas, Ms. Gresham.” He turned. “Can we talk outside, Rylie?”

She had been about to suggest the same thing. She kissed her aunt on top of the head before following him out the door.

They strolled along the walkway outside the hospital, where nobody would disturb them. It was too cold. Rylie felt fine, and Scott had a thick jacket, but everyone else rushed inside to escape the snow.

“Healing spell?” she asked.

His eyebrows lifted. “I’m surprised you picked that up.”

“I’m not stupid. I don’t want your weird black magic near my aunt.”

“I promise it’s benign,” he said. “A powerful witch could heal a lot of things, but I’m not powerful, and your aunt is beyond the healing abilities of anyone on this Earth. But she’s a strong woman. All she needs is a boost to get back on her feet.”

Rylie rolled her thoughts over on her tongue, considering what to say. There were so many answers she wanted to demand from him. But she started with the obvious one.

“Have you heard from Seth and Abel?”

“I have,” he said gravely. “They’re resting.”

Then why hadn’t Seth called her? She folded her arms tight across her chest. “Is Abel…?”

Scott nodded. “Yes. He’s the killer.”

Rylie felt sick. “But… Levi told me that we’re all killers. Why would he say that if he’s not the one eating people?”

“My kids have had a tough time. Their family couldn’t handle them once they got bitten—which was a total accident, by the way. Just a madman who came across them one night.”

“How did you find them?”

“They were institutionalized. Even amongst mundane people, I have a reputation for specializing in teens with particular ‘delusions,’ so I was called in to treat them. But they were gone by the time I arrived. They killed two orderlies, another patient, and a security guard to escape.”

Her jaw dropped.

“So they’re even worse than me,” she said.

“No—none of you are
bad
. We have to put your experience in context: you’re sharing a body with a wild animal that was born in the dark times before human civilization. You were never meant to live in houses, attend school, or be locked in cages. If you roamed in a world empty of cities, you would be a normal part of nature. You would be safe.”

“Safe from what, exactly?”

“Yourselves.” Scott gazed out at the snowy landscape, brow furrowing with thought. “The investigation into the murders didn’t implicate Bekah and Levi. Witnesses saw two wolves attacking, so they assumed the kids took the opportunity to escape. When I found them, I made the same offer to them I’m making to you now—to help them heal. So they came to live with me.”

“I don’t need to be adopted,” Rylie said.

“No. You don’t,” he said.

“My aunt needs me.”

“Have you considered that she might heal better without having to worry about you?”

Stung, she kicked a clump of snow over the bridge onto the sidewalk below. “We’ll be fine.”

Scott nodded. “Abel felt the same when I gave him this offer, too. They thought it would be better to handle it alone, which is why they’re leaving, but you don’t have to—”

She wheeled around to face him, feeling as though she had been slapped. “Wait! They’re
leaving
? What did you say to them?”

“Nothing. This was Seth’s decision.”

Suddenly, nothing else seemed important. Not Christmas, not her aunt, not the idea of going to live with a bunch of witches.

Scott had to be wrong. Seth wouldn’t leave her.

Would he?

The Chevelle wasn’t outside when Rylie got to Seth and Abel’s apartment. Icy fingers of fear clenched in her chest.

Had she missed them?

She pushed into the apartment. The first thing she noticed was that all the research had been stripped from the walls. Then she noticed that the futons had been stacked on top of each other and shoved in a corner. Everything else was separated into two piles. One was next to two big backpacks, and the other was going into black trash bags.

Seth stood in the middle of it all, looking through one of his school binders.

“Thank God,” she said, moving to hug him. His expression stopped her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Scott Whyte told me you guys were gone. I knew that wasn’t right, because…” She trailed off. They weren’t ransacking their apartment for fun. When she spoke again, her voice was tiny. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Seth’s furrowed brow was answer enough on its own. “Rylie…”

“But you can’t go! What about graduation? What about college?”

His face crumpled with pain.

“Some things are more important than that.”

“You guys are overreacting,” Rylie said. “This is—this is stupid! I mean, yeah, so Abel’s made some mistakes, but who cares? He can learn to control himself.”

“He’s killed people.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. Rylie knew Abel was capable of that kind of violence. She wouldn’t deny it. But Seth wouldn’t let his brother deal with it alone.

“So you’re going away to… what? What will you guys get by running away that you can’t have here?”

“Your safety,” Seth said. “Abel could hurt you. And the pattern of killings will attract other hunters. My mom could come back.”

Ugly visions swam through her head. Eleanor had hunted Rylie, attacked her, and tried to murder her. She tied Rylie to the back of her motorcycle and dragged her through the dirt and then fed her poisoned meat to make her crazy.

But now she imagined Eleanor doing those things to Abel, too. Beating him. Tying him up. Pumping him full of silver.

“We’ll be safer if we’re all together,” Rylie said.

He stroked her cheek, eyes pleading. “Think about it. As long as Abel is out of control here, there will be policemen and hunters. They could get him, too. And what if they don’t? Abel could kill one of your friends. He could kill Gwyn.”

She shook her head, again and again, like denying it hard enough would make it stop. “He loves Gwyn. He would never do that.”

“You don’t understand. You’re different, Rylie. Most werewolves aren’t like you.”

“But I bit him. I made him like this,” she whispered.

“Don’t blame yourself. Hey, look at me, Rylie. You can’t blame yourself for this. Biting him was self-defense. It’s a risk we take when we hunt werewolves.”

And suddenly, those horrible images Rylie had of Abel being tortured by Eleanor were replaced with the thought of Seth getting bitten instead. He was perfect in every way she wasn’t. He was strong and noble, like a modern knight crusading against the werewolf threat. Getting bitten would violate him. He would be ruined. It was too awful for her to imagine.

Her chin trembled. “I don’t want you to go.”

Seth responded by wrapping his arms around her, and she clung to his shirt, burying her face in his chest. He was so warm and safe, and he smelled so comforting.

She might never get to smell him again, or be held by him again. Fear ached in her chest.

Rylie grabbed his neck and dragged him down to her level, pressing her lips to his. She kissed him with everything inside of herself, putting every moment they had shared together into it—their struggles at summer camp when she was bitten, the fight against his family, all the times he had looked after her and protected her when she changed.

And Seth kissed her back just as hard. His hands dug into her elbows, pinning her arms to her sides, capturing her in his grip. It hurt. It felt good. Feelings swam through her, confused and disjointed. Her heart was too broken to beat.

“Don’t stop,” Rylie said when Seth started to step back.

So he didn’t.

Rylie had been putting off having sex for weeks. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. She did—really bad, actually, way worse than she ever wanted anything ever before. But there was always a reason not to do it. They were never alone at the ranch. Abel was usually at Seth’s apartment. And when they really did get time to themselves, it was usually because Rylie was about to turn into a giant, murderous dog. Not exactly sexy.

But now they were alone without anyone to stop them, and she might never see him again.

Passion blazed inside of her like a wildfire, and once it began burning, it wouldn’t stop. She wrapped her arms around his neck, locking his lips to hers, and his hands burned hot paths up her back underneath her shirt along her ribcage. His fingers raked along the back of her and skimmed over the bra.

His other hand cupped her breast through her bra. Rylie’s breath caught in her throat, and she pulled back a little to look at him. His eyes were filled with heat. It was a little scary.

“Seth—”

He kissed her again, and any thoughts of suggesting that they should slow down vanished from her mind. Every nerve in her body was on fire. He shoved her back until her calves hit the edge of the futons. Rylie lost her balance and fell, dragging Seth down on top of her.

They hit the floor, and she didn’t care about how heavy he was or how much their apartment smelled like silver.

She was lost in him, and she never wanted to be found.

He sat back on his knees long enough to strip off his shirt. He was broad and muscled, with faint scars on his ribs. Sweat made him glisten.

Delicious.

The wolf responded to all kinds of hunger—the kind sated by food, the kind sated by violence, and the kind sated with sex. And Seth looked delicious in every way at that moment. He dropped down again, and his lips traveled from hers to her neck, down her shoulder and onto her stomach.

When he came back up to be face to face with her, Seth looked hungry, too.

And then Rylie sank her teeth into his shoulder.

Seth shouted and shoved her away.

She landed on her butt. Instinct took over, and she rose to a crouch, baring her teeth. A growl rumbled in her chest as Seth scrambled to his feet.

He had attacked her
.

But he held his hands toward her palms-forward in the universal gesture of peace, keeping his eyes away from hers. “Whoa, hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to provoke you. Deep breaths. Calm down.”

Calm down?

Her blood thundered in her ears. She leaped for him, and he caught her wrist a half second before she could rake her claws down his face.

Seth flung her to the floor. Her head cracked against the wall.

She slumped on the carpet. Everything went fuzzy. Her ears were vibrating.

The sudden burst of pain was enough to jolt the wolf into silence again, but it still took her a minute to remember how to speak again. And once she did, she realized what she had done. “I’m sorry.”

When he spoke, it sounded like he was talking from a long distance. “Are you okay?”

“I think so…”

Seth went into the bathroom and flicked on the light. Rylie rubbed her hands over her eyes—where had the claws come from?—to keep from crying.

He was quiet for so long that she had to get up to see what he was doing.

“Oh man,” Seth said, craning around to see his shoulder in the mirror. There was a clear circle of tooth indentations in his flesh. “Jesus…”