Beneath the Neon Moon (10 page)

When it was done Mal stood, raised his head and looked at him once more, wolfen eyes yellow and green, body long and graceful, strong. Larger than any wolf should ever be.

The cuff still held him, but the bloody, hated chain lay on the ground, dirt sticking to the gore on the links. He'd broken free of it.

Something passed between them. A warning, the last one. Zach nodded again and opened the door. He didn't look back, just walked through the doorway and fell against the door with his back, closing it. He locked it and sank to the floor.

It had been like watching Mal die, or something so near as to make no difference. It was who Mal was now, and who he'd be for the rest of his life, dying once every month.

Zach bent over and vomited, clutching his stomach, gasping air in between heaves until nothing was left but stringing yellow spit, and still he saw Mal eaten up by something he didn't want to be, something that tore his body up like a dirty rag and tied it into a new shape. Something that didn't know to love Zach.

Zach barked a laugh, deep and raw. Love. Two days.

He laughed again but it sounded more like a sob. He remembered the wild slant of Mal's eyes, unspeakable and hungry and enraged, unwilling and terrified and alone.

Zach dropped his head and cried.

Chapter 12

A
FTER ZACH STOPPED crying he walked to the bathroom, washed his swollen eyes and rinsed his mouth out. He stared at himself in the mirror, hair like wheat bleached under the sun, shorn short like always. A full mouth, eyes of speckled gray stone. A face a lot of people had told him was handsome in one way or another, by spoken words or groping hands and mouth. By taking when it wasn't given. It never meant anything, never touched him.

He looked at himself, thinking about how it always used to feel like staring at nothing. He wondered why it felt like maybe now he was something more than that.

Zach went through the house, looking for a key to the ankle cuff. He didn't have much time to worry about what he'd do if he couldn't find it before he actually did find it, in the desk of a little office set up in an alcove. He took the key with him into the kitchen and sat at the table. He propped his foot up on the seat of a chair, then inserted the key, lips tightening until he heard the small click as the lock disengaged. He only realized he'd been holding his breath when he let it out. He sat with the cuff in his hands, staring at the smooth dark metal, hating it.

Carrying it to the kitchen window, he opened it and then flung the cuff outside, as far away as he could. He put the key in his pocket.

There was a tool cabinet in the pantry closet. He pocketed a screwdriver, saw a roll of electrical tape and took it as well. 

He found what was probably Aaron's bedroom at the last door off the hall, shirts tossed on the floor and a drawer not quite shut, clothes sticking out over the top. The clothes looked too large for Kane. He went through the bureau and found some jeans and a shirt for Mal. By no means a perfect fit, but they'd do. He saw a pair of sunglasses on the dresser and took those, too.

Then he went back to the kitchen, stared out the window and waited.

He'd left the window open, and the wind blew in. He watched as the rain came in from the west and listened to the sounds of the wolf below. He'd heard it as he searched the house, fading when he'd walked into the rooms facing the front of the house. The cellar door was in the kitchen, and the sounds were very loud.

The hair on the back of Zach's neck prickled, and goose bumps rose on his arms at the utter, alien rage pouring over the kitchen from downstairs.

It grew quiet after midnight. After a while Zach moved to the door, listening. He heard nothing. A couple of hours later he heard movement and went to the door again, pressing his ear to it. He heard a low, vibrating growl and then crashing sounds. He thought of the piles of junk in the cellar. He heard something high-pitched, a squeak, then another, rising, terrorized, ending in a shriek. He heard the wolf snarl. He pushed away from the door as if it'd gone white-hot beneath his fingers.

He retreated back to the sink, staring out the window, fingers clinched colorless over the sides. He waited for daytime, for the memory of those sounds to stop.

It rained and rained. It was hard to tell when dawn arrived with all the clouds. Zach opened the door and climbed down the stairs. Mal lay at the back wall of the cellar, curled in on himself. His body was bruised, pale, and his breaths fast and shallow, pushing his ribs in and out. His clothes were rags on the floor. His ankle was tacky with old blood. He was still bound by the wall chain.

Zach knelt beside him. "Mal?" His voice was rough. He cleared his throat. He put a hand on Mal's shoulder. The skin was cold. He rubbed it. "Wake up. Please wake up. We've got to get out of here."

Mal opened his eyes. He rolled over on his back. Zach gave him water, asked about his ankle. Mal looked up to the pipes crisscrossing the cellar, eyes unfocused. He didn't answer. Zach used the key to free him from the cuff. He offered him Aaron's clothes and watched Mal put them on. Mal still didn't speak. He didn't limp when he walked. 

They climbed up the stairs for the last time. Zach closed the door and locked it behind them. Maybe it'd give the wolves something to think about.

They left the house and walked down the graveled drive to the steep, winding mountain road, listening for any approaching vehicles. The morning sky was dingy, a ceiling of soft gray cloud and shrouded mist, drizzling a little. Rain pattered on the leaves of the trees, and birds called softly from the branches as if the rain had hushed them.

After fifteen minutes they came upon the house Zach had spotted from the kitchen window yesterday at twilight. The driveway was paved and empty. They looked inside a window. The place was bare of furniture.

"Doesn't matter anyway." Zach stepped back from the window. "We can't exactly call the police and tell them we were kidnapped by a werewolf pack. We'll have to figure out what we're going to tell them if we go to them."

"No," Mal said, the first words he'd spoken. He looked back the way they'd come, then tilted his face up to the drizzly sky. "We come back and burn the place down."

Zach shrugged. "Works for me."

They walked. The road curved down and down. The land grew less steep for a mile or so. They got off the road and hid in the trees whenever they heard a car. They walked past an area a quarter mile long that'd been clear-cut, the land shorn and severe. There was nowhere to hide. They both walked faster, feeling exposed, even more so when the sun came out, steam rising like ghosts from the road.

Mal still wasn't talking much, but once the trees crowded around the road again and gave them some cover, he unbuttoned his shirt and fished out the sunglasses from Aaron's shirt pocket. His shirt flapped back as he walked, and the sun brought shining bronze highlights to his hair.

Zach got ahead of him and then turned around, walking backwards. "You've been stuck in a cellar for two days." He looked Mal up and down, then flapped a hand at him. "You're dirty. You've been bleeding. You've been a werewolf. You're not supposed to look like this."

Mal's slow grin faltered at 'werewolf.' He kept walking. "Like what?"

"Like … good."

Mal kept walking.

"If you don't start talking to me soon, things are going to get extreme." Zach's heel scuffed the pavement. He nearly stumbled.

"Turn around. We've been through nothing but extreme for two days now. Let's give it a rest, try for normal." Mal paused. "Guess I can't do that anymore. Be normal, I mean."

Zach stopped in front of him in the middle of the road. "Are you okay?"

"Good as a new were can be, I guess. Are you?"

"I'm alive. That's good enough."

"Yeah." Mal nodded, looking into his eyes. "It is." He took a step into Zach's body, nudging him. "We need to move. Aaron and Kane are coming back for us." 

Zach took the hint. "We need a car. We'll be going through a residential area soon, I think. Look out for an old one, mid-nineties or earlier. I know, good luck with that in this area, but they're easiest to get into and I don't feel like trying to finesse my way through anything if we don't have to. Besides, I don't have the equipment."

"Imagine that. You know how to hotwire a car."

Zach tugged the screwdriver and tape out from the back pocket of his jeans. He smiled. "Used to, anyway. We'll see."

Half an hour later, they heard a car approach from down the mountain. Zach and Mal took off for cover behind the trees lining the road. A small black import appeared and then disappeared around the curve. They waited until the sounds of the engine died out completely before they got back on the road.

"It was them," Mal said after a moment.

Zach nodded. "We have to find a car."

Fifteen minutes later, with the sun back behind the clouds, they came upon a cluster of one-story homes and log cabins dotting one side of the road. A stream ran parallel to the road on the other. A long grassy area with picnic tables and grills stretched alongside the stream. Wooden walking bridges crossed the stream periodically, leading to hiking trails on the other side.

A lone Olds Cutlass was parked at one of the areas, rust creeping up the sides. They heard no voices, so they walked to the stream and peered down at the banks. Dappled sunlight winked on the surface of the water as it rushed over the rocks. No one was on or near the bridge in front of the Cutlass. They went back to the car and tried the doors. They were unlocked.

"Perfect. About time our luck changed." Zach sat in the driver's seat and patted the dash. "Baby, they think you're too old for anyone to want. They're wrong."

"Okay, just hurry, will you?" Mal looked up and down the road, then peered at the trail on the other side of the bridge. 

Zach jammed the end of the screwdriver into the ignition and pounded it with the heel of his palm. "Damn, wish I'd brought a hammer." He stopped and looked up at Mal standing beside the car. "If we stay lucky I won't need the tape or the knife. Or something I don't have. I think we're lucky. What do you think?"

"I think you better start the damned car," Mal snapped, and Zach grinned up at him. He turned the screwdriver. The engine cranked.

Mal grinned back at him, relieved. "Nice."

"She likes me," Zach said. "I knew it. Get in."

Mal rolled his eyes, long legs sliding into the car. "Go."

Zach patted him on the leg. "It's okay, relax."

Mal glared at him. "Don't you have better things to do? Like driving?"

Zach smirked at him. "Yeah, but this is more fun." He drove away from the graveled pull-off.

They stopped in the foothills to go through the drive-through of a fast food joint, then pulled over and ate, unable to wait. They watched a black and yellow helicopter with a wicked shine take off from a grassy place down the road. A dry erase board perched at the edge of the lot, advertising helicopter rides in big red letters.

They left the main drag, driving along twisting back roads. When they were within a couple of miles of Zach's place, they left the car by the road and walked the rest of the way.

The sun came out briefly, mist rising again from the road, trailing up and reaching for the sky. Zach listened to the faint sound of his and Mal's steps gritting against the road.

He wondered where Jasper was, guessing he'd given up on him by now. He was surprised to realize how much he'd miss him.

The houses got shabbier the further they walked, some of them with peeling paint, some with mold showing on the siding. Bikes and toys laid where they were dropped out in the yards. Zach stopped in front of a narrow gray house, situated on a lot only a little wider than the house. He put a hand on the gate. "This is home. Crappy as it might be."

"It's not crappy if it's home." Mal stood on the sidewalk, looking all around. 

"Give me a second." Zach climbed the steps to the wide front porch, looking for the cat. The blue plastic feeder he kept outside for Jasper was empty, the water bowl dry. He leaned against one of the old wooden columns at the top of the porch steps, looking out at the neighborhood. Mal looked up at him, not saying anything.

Zach went down the steps again and out the gate. He stood by Mal on the sidewalk, listening. Finally he called for the cat. He hadn't wanted to do it because Jasper might not come.

He heard Jasper before he saw him, a crabby, urgent meow that demanded to know where he'd been. Then came a little streak of yellow, legs blurred and hurrying down the walk. The cat slowed into alley cat slink as he got closer, his tail held in an elegant S-curve. Zach picked him up, the tightness in his chest loosening. He rubbed his finger against Jasper's cheek, feeling the stiff bristle of whiskers and the soft fur beneath.

"Think he purrs loud enough?" Mal asked. Water sparkled like diamonds in his hair. Jasper tilted his head into Zach's finger and rubbed.

"Jasper, meet our new wolf," Zach said.

"It's not a joke, Zach." Mal's voice was soft.

Zach stepped closer to him. "We've got nearly a month to figure out what to do next. Which is a hell of a lot more time than we had in that fucking cellar. It feels like enough time to deal with anything."

Mal shook his head. "You made it out. It's over for you, you know? You don't have to stick with me."

"I know I don't."

Mal looked at him. He held up his hands and opened his mouth, ready to argue.

"Just shut up, okay?" Zach looked into his eyes and waited.

Mal dropped his hands. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Okay."

Suddenly Zach could breathe again. He hid it by looking at Jasper, running a thumb in under his chin and rubbing back and forth. Jasper purred louder, little round head tilted blissfully.

Mal sighed, reaching out to rub behind the cat's ears. Zach put him down and he ran up the stairs ahead of them, then turned and watched expectantly. The white blaze on his face shone.