Black Moon (7 page)

Read Black Moon Online

Authors: Rebecca A. Rogers

Tags: #Teen & Young Adult, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban

BOOK: Black Moon
7.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

My expression must say it all because Jana giggles. “Better late than never, right?”

“Sure,” I mumble, surprised. I knew I’d find out sooner or later what her, and Blake’s, powers were.

“Candra, make a wish,” Beth encourages. Jana is the only one sitting down. Blake, Randy and Dad went downstairs to double check the chair will withstand me, and Mom and Beth are gathered at the kitchen island.

I wish . . . I wish . . . I don’t know what I wish for . . .

Of course you do,
says the all-too-familiar voice.

Get out of my head, Ben.

Can’t. Remember?

“Candra?” Mom’s face bears a semi-smile, but the confused look she’s giving me questions my sanity.

“Don’t know what I want,” I say, hoping they won’t catch on.

Yes, you do,
he says.
Think really hard about this. What have you wanted most since you moved here?

Besides you?
Oh God. Did I just say that?

There’s a long pause.

Besides me.

Um . . . for our families to get along.

Now you’re getting somewhere.

I smile despite wary observation. “Just thought of something,” I say, dodging quizzical glances. I lean forward, close my eyes and create my wish.

I wish everything would return to the way it was, before this war began, before the Lowell’s and Conway’s existed, when all was peaceful.

Nice.

Oh, and I wish for some quiet time from this crazy guy in my head.

Not nice. You shouldn’t have kissed me, you know. Then you could still be the same Candra Lowell we’ve all come to know and love.

Not funny. Get out!

If you say so.
He pauses, then adds,
By the way, good luck tonight.

Thanks. I’ll need it.

Nah, it’s not that bad. Once you get past the blood, sweat and bones breaking, it’s fine.

What?!

He ignores me, of course.
Oh, and Candra?

Yes?

Happy birthday.

Mom, Beth and Jana clap as I blow out the candle.

~*~

Later, after the males have given the OK for the chair, we all group on the back porch . . . despite the frigid weather. Above, the moon watches over us, alluring and harrowing, a white orb on a sinister canvas. I stare back at it, wondering if it’ll become another enemy to add to my ever-growing haters list.

Beth waitresses a tray of mugs filled with hot chocolate, while the rest of us gather round the fire pit—which Jana lit, by the way—each grabbing a cup. The warm, sugary drink feels wonderful on a night like this; its tepidness courses through my body, heating me from the inside.

After sitting, Beth raises her mug in the air, toward the bonfire. “To Candra. May you live as long as you desire and may all your wishes come true.”

I nearly choke on my hot chocolate. If only wishes
did
come true . . .

“Thank you. All of you, really,” I say. “I hope I’m a help to our family, ending the Conway’s and their Followers.”

A unison of “hear, hears” rises from our small circle, and everyone sips their drink.

“What time is it?” I ask. Not that I should be inquiring, as this will only add to my anxiety.

“Ten past nine,” answers Blake.

The question and response earns a silent reaction. Quietly, we all swallow our beverages, waiting for the right conversation starter. I can’t think of anything except
three hours
. In three hours I’ll be transitioning into my werewolf form, praying for death. There’s a good chance those prayers will be answered, too.

“Well,” Beth begins, breaking the awkward calm, “at least it’s not snowing tonight.”

Weather? Really?

Mom chimes in. “It’s unusual this time of year. I’m surprised we’re not buried under eight feet of snow.”

“My dad always makes me get out and shovel,” says Blake, which garners a few laughs.

“Yeah, but I help,” Jana adds.

“You do, babe, and I’m eternally grateful.” He leans over and kisses her forehead.

“Okay, well, besides the weather and relationships, I’m glad everyone’s doing well,” I say. “Mind talking about stuff that eases my nerves?”

Jana frowns. “You’ll be okay, Candra.”

I raise one eyebrow, questioning her.

She continues. “I’m serious. If we all made it, you should be fine. And you don’t have a cold so . . . I mean, at least that helps, right?”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

She sighs. “Candra, it’s fine.”

“Well, we’ll know in a few hours, won’t we?”

Their grim faces agree with me.

~*~

Five minutes until midnight. Six minutes until the transformation begins and my entire future changes, along with my body.

“Let’s get you strapped in, kiddo,” says Dad.

I reluctantly drop myself into the seat, arms resting inside the metal clasps, which are bolted in place. Dad snaps the wrist guards, locking them shut. Taking a deep breath, I resign to staying calm. Freaking out won’t help my situation. I have no choice but to go through with this. It’s who I am, who I’m meant to be.

I have to help my family. They
need
me.

“Three minutes,” Beth whispers to Mom, like I can’t hear her when she’s standing less than eight feet away.

“All we can do is wait,” Mom replies in a tone as hushed as Beth’s.

“I can hear you guys,” I say. “You’re only dragging this out. Three minutes feel like three hours.”

Beth seems concerned. Does this bring back memories of those she knew who died? I’d hate to be the third name on that list.

“Two minutes,” adds Blake.

I give him the
Jee
, thanks
look. He shrugs.

“Is everything in place now?” Jana asks. “If she breaks loose—”

“She’s not going to,” Randy interrupts. “We’ve made sure this is secure . . . for all our sakes.” A definitive glance passes between my family and friends, one that I can only assume means Randy and Blake literally shifted into werewolves to try out the mechanism. If the men can withstand this contraption while changed, then tonight might not play out as badly as I imagined it to.

“Candra, remember this: you won’t know us when you transform,” says Beth. “We’ll be blood and fresh meat—food—to you. That’s what this chair is here for, to protect us from your other half.”

God, she makes it sound like I’m a descendant of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Two halves? I thought my mind will work as one.

“You guys said I’ll know. You told me I’d be coherent after this,” I say, now panicked.

Mom purses her lips. “That’s correct:
after
tonight. During this adjustment, your body isn’t used to these new modifications, and you won’t be
you
.”

Oh God Oh God Oh God. I didn’t think they literally meant the next day.

We’re seconds away from finding out my fate. Seconds away from my becoming forever altered. Seconds from—

A long, drawn-out shiver spreads the length of my body, from toes to head. There’s no turning back. This isn’t like driving halfway to your destination and realizing you forgot something at home, able to turn the car around. No, this is light years apart in difference.

Blood leaks from my nose, tickling my upper lip, cascading over my mouth, and then dripping from my chin to the fabric of my jeans. My feet are stretched, the bones elongated, ready to shatter at any second. The distance between my toes rapidly increases as they spread apart; there’s no time for my body to catch up. My hands follow suit; I have no choice but to spread out my fingers, which are cramped. Mentally, I’m telling myself to shut up, that this will all be over soon. Physically, my body is fighting back at this unknown assailant.

Pain doesn’t even begin to describe the ache ripping through me. I would rather gouge my eyeballs out with toothpicks than go through with this. Nausea rolls over and over again in my stomach like a giant tidal wave. Oh God, I’m going to puke. I’m going to puke. I’m going to PUKE. This sick sensation is keeping my mind off my bones cracking and popping in places I didn’t imagine they could. But I no more think that when the agony of this transition reaches my brain, screaming this is all wrong.

“Make it STOOOP!” I cry out, knowing nobody will help me. I’m in this alone.

I grit my teeth as my family stands back and watches, unable to help. Mom and Beth’s hands cover their mouths, Jana cries while Blake holds her close, and Randy and Dad stand aside in case something goes horribly wrong, which is still a possibility. There’s a sudden pinch in my eyes as they well with tears, dripping down my cheeks in the same direction as the blood from my nose.

Their figures blur into mere shapes separated only by light and dark. The overhead fluorescents burn my retinas, adding to my discomfort. My left leg twitches inwardly, right leg following. Both arms contort at the elbows. One long, hair-raising scream tears up my throat and out my mouth when my shoulders dislocate themselves, my ribcage expands and breaks, and my legs bend backward at the kneecaps.

With each new fracture of bones, shredding of muscle, and ejection of blood, I shriek. Again and again and again.

Blinding pain . . .

Blackness . . .

Hold on, Candra. HOLD ON,
I tell myself.

Pop, pop, pop, pop.
The fluorescent lighting overhead sounds like gunfire as it explodes.

Then there are no faces anymore, only the dark depths of the basement, which mirror my soul. An otherworldly evil has taken over, sinking its incisors into my heart and body. Whatever this dark force is, it’s winning, taking over completely. Images of a time long ago, in a century so different from ours, flash through my mind. I can feel it boiling and bubbling, expanding to the surface of my perception.

Now, I am someone else entirely, someone who has been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time.

I am hungry, and there are
so
many live creatures nearby that I can
lick
the aroma of blood from the air, which overflows in this tight space. It is all I want, all I
crave.
There is no stopping me. Ever. So much flesh. So many bodies to feed on. I cannot see them. Why can I not see them? I smell them, though. They’re here.

Tiny glass pieces glitter on the floor like sequins, the silver moon reflected on each shard. I stare through the small windows at ceiling level, up over the grass and through the trees, toward my old nemesis in the sky. I want to be closer, yet I fear its power over me, even after all these years.

Voices in the corner break my trance, and I snap my head in their direction.
Where are you,
I want to say, but it comes out as a low, drawn-out howl. Feels good, too. Actually, it feels better than good—it is incredible. Every stress-induced burden that has infected me in the past is released. I feel so buoyant and airy. So
free
.

Other books

The Ones by Daniel Sweren-Becker
Ghost Thorns by Jonathan Moeller
Slippery Slopes by Emily Franklin
Butcher by Campbell Armstrong
Tempted by Marion, Elise
Spirits of Ash and Foam by Greg Weisman
Beside Still Waters by Tracey V. Bateman
Wizardborn by David Farland