Magic of the Moonlight: A Full Moon Novel (2 page)

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure how Brandon would react to me.

He spotted me, and for a moment I sensed his pain. I knew he loved that Jeep and took great care of it. I also knew that it must be horrible to have your property and name defamed in front of the entire school.

However, his royal blue eyes bore through me, and I saw a hint of a smile. I felt the sadness wash away and was exhilarated in his presence.

“I can help you with that,” I said, walking to him.

“No, that’s okay,” he said, standing up. “It needed to be washed anyway.”

I took the rag from his hand and began to wash away the letter
W
. The paint was pretty thick, and it took some muscle to get rid of it.

“Fortunately the morons didn’t use spray paint,” he said. “It’s just like paint you’d find in art class.”

“Nash didn’t do this,” I said. “He might have left the costume there—he’s a prankster—but not a vandal.”

“So? Why should that make me feel better?” He took the rag from me and began washing it himself.

“I didn’t mean to defend him. I just wanted you to know.”

He didn’t respond but kept on scrubbing.

“I want to tell them,” I began. “I want to tell my friends how I feel about you.”

Brandon was surprised. He wiped his hands off with a dry rag. “About us?”

“Yes,” I said. “And if they don’t like it, then they’re not true friends, right?”

“Well, I can see Nash not liking it.”

I cracked a smile then, too.

He took my sudsy hands and began to dry them with the rag. It was relaxing as he attended to me by rubbing my hands with the cloth, and I stared blissfully up at his gorgeous face.

“And Ivy,” he said. “She seems possessive of you. And I don’t fit neatly into her world.”

It would be hard—our clique was strong, and no one had penetrated it for years. If she knew I was seeing Brandon instead of Nash, she’d be bummed, to say the least. I imagined Ivy and Abby snubbing me in class, whispering together when I walked in the hallway, filling in my seat at lunch with their backpacks. No calls, texts, or study buddies. I was afraid I’d lose my best friends.

But it wasn’t going to make me happy to lose Brandon, either.

“I’m ready to tell them,” I said. “That is . . . if you want this, too.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

He tossed the rag into the bucket, took my hands again, and drew me to him. A few soap bubbles from his sleeve tickled my cheek as he caressed my face. My boots splashed in the sudsy puddles.

“So, you’ll sit with me at lunch?” he said dreamily.

“Or you’ll sit with me.”

It was going to be different. I’d sat with Ivy since elementary school. I knew it would be difficult to stare at her from across the lunchroom and watch her and Abby giggling and gossiping without me. But if it was too awkward with Brandon and me at our table, we’d have to eat at his.

“And we’ll meet each other after class,” I said.

“I wouldn’t want to meet anyone else,” he replied with an extra squeeze.

I imagined getting smirks as we passed other Eastsiders in the hallways. And who knows, the Westsiders might not be too happy, either. There would be obstacles, but to be in the company of the guy I was in love with, I was ready.

But then I remembered that night Nash saw Brandon change into a werewolf. And I thought about how Nash had threatened to tell my friends what he’d witnessed if I continued to see Brandon.

“But there is one problem,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Nash threatened me—he said that if I continue dating you, he’ll tell the whole school what he saw that night—you changing into a werewolf.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“He’s genuinely concerned for me,” I confessed. “I can’t blame him for that.”

Brandon appeared sullen. “I know . . . I’d be the same if I saw what he saw.”

“But I tried to convince him it wasn’t as bad as he thought. That you aren’t dangerous.”

“I’m sure he believed that,” he said, kicking the dirt.

“But what if he tells someone?” I asked.

“Who will believe him?” he wondered. “He doesn’t have proof.”

“I’m hoping that everyone will think he’s pranking them again and they won’t listen. But you’re already being called Wolfman and had your Jeep vandalized. I’m not sure what those vandals might do next. People love to pick on someone—and now you are the target. This could make it worse.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” he said.

I was pleased with his reaction, but I wanted him to have full disclosure of what the challenges might be. “I know you can. But Nash is competitive,” I said. “It’s in his nature to fight. I’m afraid he’ll go for the jugular.”

Brandon thought. “I’m not going to let him dictate my life.”

I was proud of Brandon’s bravery, and even though I was hoping everyone would see Nash’s declaration as a joke, I wasn’t convinced it would be okay. The more I thought about it, the more I worried.

“But . . .” I started, “when the next full moon comes out, do you think everyone will be looking for you?”

He thought again, this time taking a moment. “Yes, they will.”

Now I was really worried. It was one thing to be teased, another to be hunted.

“I can’t do that to you,” I said. “Just to have what I want. It’s not fair to you.”

“But then it’s not fair to you, either. To have to walk through the halls on the arm of a guy they are calling a werewolf.”

Brandon was so caring and concerned for my happiness. But, ultimately, I wouldn’t be happy if he was in danger.

“Then what do we do? Everyone freaked out about Nash in a costume. Abby, Dr. Meadows, the TV station. If they find out there really is a werewolf in town . . . who knows what they will do? I just know it won’t be good.”

Brandon stared off into the woods. “I’ve caused you enough trouble already,” he said.

“Caused me trouble? This isn’t about me—it’s about you.”

“I don’t care about me. I’m more worried about what will happen to you if everyone finds out you’re dating a werewolf. I can’t do that to you.” He leaned against a tree, as if we’d both been defeated. “There’s only one thing to do for now.”

“Yes?” I asked, hopeful he had a romantic solution. I imagined he’d suggest we run away together or meet again to figure out another plan.

Instead he appeared sullen again. “It’s best we stay apart,” he said firmly.

“What?” I asked, stunned. “But I don’t want that.”

“I want you to continue to hang out with your friends. I want you to continue to do what you’ve been doing. Until I find a cure.”

“You find a cure? Alone? I’m not going to just forget about you and go back to a normal life like these past few months haven’t even happened.” I took his hand and drew myself to him. “I don’t want us to be apart.” I leaned my head on his chest. He was trying to resist, but he caved in and held me.

“Then promise me something.” He took my chin and lifted it so I’d see him.

“What?” I asked. Everyone was asking me for promises I didn’t want to make. They weren’t the promises of love and romance that I was always looking for but promises of not seeing Brandon.

“That we’ll only see each other in secret. Until I find a cure. This is the only way I know no harm will come to you.”

I had to do what was best for him. In this case, Brandon was in much more danger of losing his life than I was of losing my friends by not sharing my secret with them.

“I want to tell them,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “I want us to be normal. I want us to be together.”

“But I am not normal . . .” he began, softly tucking my hair behind my ears. “Not now, anyway. And when I am cured, it will be safe for you. But only when that happens.”

“Nash will think he won,” I said, tormented.

“This isn’t about Nash. It is about you.”

Brandon was asking me to wait. “If it’s for my own good,” I asked, “then why does it hurt so much?”

He continued to caress my hair, trying to comfort me. But to me, it wasn’t about what
I’d
be going through. I could bear the thought of being teased, but I couldn’t bear putting Brandon’s safety at risk.

“No one will know,” I said, finally resigned.

He took my hands and placed them to his lips.

“You’ll have to find a cure before the next full moon,” I said, melting underneath his romantic spell. “I really want to tell the world I’m dating you. But for now you’ll be my best-kept secret.”

He leaned in and gave me a juicy kiss.

I continued to hug Brandon and noticed the suds had dripped down the side of his Jeep, erasing the word
WOLFMAN
.

It pained me to no end to see the struggle that Brandon’s condition presented to him. If only everyone in town could see how gorgeous and magnetic he was when he transformed, and that he should be admired, not feared. But change was scary in this town, and outsiders were even more so. A werewolf was a werewolf, and it would be hard to convince anyone that Brandon was a handsome and benevolent one—that he was more tormented by his own condition than anyone else should be.

But I knew that what I was hoping for was impossible. We had three weeks to find a cure for Brandon and make him one of the ordinary students of Legend’s Run before another full moon appeared. But even then, Brandon Maddox was anything but ordinary.

TWO

seeking solutions

I
t was time to find a cure for Brandon. I was more focused on it than I’d ever been. If we could find a cure for him turning into a werewolf, then we’d be able to deal with the singular conflict of me dating a Westsider.

Ivy, Abby, and I were in the school library, and I was surfing the net for anything that could help solve Brandon’s lycan condition while they were occupied with a pile of magazines. However, in my surfing, I wasn’t finding anything that seemed reasonable and was becoming increasingly frustrated.

Annoyed, I was tapping my nails against the keys when Ivy placed her hand on mine.

“Stop!” she said. “What are you so worked up about?”

“Oh . . . nothing.”

“Are you still thinking about werewolves?” Ivy asked, looking up from her rag mag and peering at the screen. “We know that Brandon was the costumed stalker. And your report is done. What gives?”

“Uh . . .” I switched to the school’s home page. “I don’t know. It just stuck with me.”

“Are you trying to cure the Wolfman?” Ivy teased. “You’re always helping out the underprivileged.”

“He’s not underprivileged, Ivy.”

“Well, he isn’t one of us.” She rolled her eyes and returned to her mag.

I know, I know,
I thought. I didn’t want to be reminded that my friends didn’t approve of outsiders.

“I’m thinking of having a party this weekend,” Abby said. “Ivy and Nash had one, so it’s my turn. Then it will be yours, Celeste.”

I couldn’t imagine hosting a party at my house. Our house was modest, not the grand estates my friends called home. We had a few rooms, but they were filled with hand-knit blankets, outdated sofas, and decades-old carpeting instead of designer decor.

“Well, speaking of werewolves,” I said. “Maybe we could invite Brandon?” I asked gingerly.

“There she goes again,” Ivy protested. “You are always stuck on him. You feel bad for him because everyone’s been calling him Wolfman?”

“Including you,” I said. “And yes, I do.”

“Well, I kind of do, too,” Abby said.

“You do?” Ivy and I asked in unison. I was happy that I had someone on my side, but I could tell by Ivy’s tone of “you do?” that she felt betrayed.

“He did find Pumpkin,” Abby said. “I was distraught without her.”

“Yes, that was a nice thing to do,” Ivy said. “But you’ve seen how he eats. Those gloves. He’s weird.”

I took Abby’s positive remark as an opportunity to continue to bring Brandon into the mix. “I think inviting him to your party would be a great way to pay him back,” I said. “Someone vandalized his car, so I’m sure he’s feeling awful. This could be an olive-branch opportunity if we included him.”

“Uh . . . sure,” Abby said. “What’s one more?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. She didn’t like Abby being more amiable than her.

“That would be great!” I said.

“Are you kidding?” Ivy said. “Just like that? Let him into your house?”

“He was at Nash’s and seemed pretty normal,” Abby said.

“You don’t think people will talk?” Ivy asked. “All the popular students, and then him?”

“Let them,” I said. “Maybe it will be fun to be the center of gossip for a change.”

“Everyone thinks he was the werewolf,” Ivy challenged.

“So, maybe he is,” I said. “But it won’t be a full moon for a few more weeks.” I gave her a shot back.

“This will be cool,” Abby said. “I did want to do something for him—for finding Pumpkin, but I didn’t know what. I feel good about this. Thanks for suggesting it, Celeste.”

Ivy snarled under her breath. “Awesome, I do, too,” she said. “Why don’t we pick him up?” Ivy asked sarcastically. “Celeste and me. We can bring him to your house,” she teased.

I seized this opportunity as well. “That’s a great idea!” I said.

“But I was just—” Ivy tried.

“I knew you guys had soft spots in you,” I said. “I’m so proud of you both.”

“It’ll be fun to have a werewolf at the party,” Abby said. “People will be talking about it for ages.”

I was happily daydreaming in third bell, imagining Brandon at Abby’s party. I envisioned Abby and me giving him a tour of her house, he and I exchanging glances from across the room and stealing a kiss in her garage when she needed extra drinks.

After fourth bell, I closely followed Abby and Ivy as they approached Brandon at his locker with their mission.

“I’m going to have a party this weekend,” Abby said. “And you should come.”

Brandon appeared surprised by their friendly conversation and invite.

“Excuse me?” he asked skeptically.

“I’m having a party Friday and would like to invite you,” Abby said, adjusting her ponytail.

I stepped out from behind them. Brandon noticed me, and his skeptical expression brightened. We locked eyes, and for a moment, I was lost in his gaze.

Abby must have noticed because she nudged me. I blushed and twisted my beaded necklace.

“I’d like to repay you for finding my dog,” Abby said to Brandon.

Abby was the tallest of us girls, but even she didn’t stand as tall as Brandon. He smiled down warmly at my friend, and I wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to blush as well. “You don’t have to repay me,” he said sincerely.

“No,” she said. “I insist you come.”

“Celeste and Ivy will pick you up,” Abby instructed. “Be ready at nine.”

Brandon was taken aback. “You are going to pick me up?” he asked Ivy.

“Yes,” Abby answered for her. “They’ll be your escorts.”

“Well, this is really cool,” he said with a radiant smile.

“You’ll want to come,” Ivy said in her bossy voice. “What else do you have to do?”

I gave him a quick wink, and we moved to our lockers.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you?” Ivy said to me. “Like a wolf on fresh meat. He’s always staring at you. I think he likes you.”

“Good thing you are going out with Nash,” Abby said. “Otherwise, you could be dating him.”

“Ooh!” Ivy cringed.

My friends cracked up. It was comments like that that made it hard for me to burst out the news that I was in love with Brandon.

That afternoon, I was hanging out at Brandon’s guesthouse. The air was still too chilly to spend any time outside without his werewolf form to keep me warm.

We were sitting on top of his bed watching TV, our legs intertwined, sharing a bowl of popcorn.

“That was nice of Abby to invite me to her party,” he said. “But if you hadn’t been with them, I’d think they were up to something sneaky.”

“No, Abby really wants you to come.”

“Abby? Or you?” He was skeptical.

“Well, both, silly.”

“I thought you might be behind this . . .”

“No, she really wants you to come. They also think they are inviting a werewolf to the party,” I confessed softly.

“Uh . . . they are.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” I asked. We both laughed. His gorgeous smile radiated like before.

“Yes. Fortunately the full moon is still a few weeks away. I’ve been trying to find a solution. But I haven’t found anything.”

Deep down I couldn’t help but wait impatiently for the full moon to appear. As a werewolf, Brandon had a magnetic and spellbinding quality that I couldn’t bear to be without.

“At this point, I might do anything,” he said. “I don’t want to be a werewolf and I don’t want us to be apart.” He gazed at me longingly. “Maybe I should meet Dr. Meadows.”

Dr. Meadows was the psychic who originally predicted that I’d be in a snowfall surrounded by wolves and warned me against kissing a werewolf. I had returned to her for help for Brandon, but ultimately she was more interested in getting fame and attention for herself than finding a cure for him.

“We can’t go back to Dr. Meadows,” I said. “We can’t trust her.”

“Then what do we do?” Brandon was frustrated. He stood up and paced in his room.

“I think we should go back to Charlie and see if he has any ideas,” I said.

I’d discovered my favorite resident at Pine Tree Village Retirement Community, Mr. Charlie Worthington, was Brandon’s great-grandfather. The elderly man was keen on his Legend’s Run werewolf folklore and liked to talk about how the original creature of the moonlight was his great-grandfather.

Brandon seemed pleased with my idea as his dark mood lifted. We grabbed our coats, and he locked his guesthouse door. He politely opened the passenger door of his Jeep and helped me inside, then drove us to Pine Tree Village.

Mr. Worthington was sitting on the couch in the foyer with an inviting grin, greeting all guests.

“What a nice surprise,” he said, rising. “It’s not even the weekend.”

“I’m not here to volunteer,” I said. “We want to know more about the Legend’s Run werewolf.”

“Sit down, please.” He was excited to have an eager audience. “Hold my calls,” he said to the receptionist, who cracked a smile.

“Do you remember if he was ever cured?” I asked him.

Mr. Worthington took a moment to recollect. “No, I’m sorry to say he never was.”

Brandon sighed.

I, too, was disappointed. I was hoping for some magic answers that the Legend’s Run werewolf had discovered that helped him become human again.

“He lived the rest of his life as a werewolf,” Mr. Worthington said, “if you believe it in the first place.”

“We believe it,” I said. But I was bummed thinking that Brandon, too, would have to spend his entire life running from the full moon.

“I think you’re among the few who do,” Mr. Worthington went on. “So why, may I ask, are you two so convinced that my great-grandfather, Brandon’s ancestor, was a werewolf?”

Because Brandon is one,
I wanted to say. But I was afraid that Mr. Worthington would have a heart attack right in front of us.

“I just think it’s possible,” I said. “And you are so convincing.”

“Your mother did have a wild streak in her,” he said to Brandon. “But you seem to have turned out fine.”

“I’m not so sure,” Brandon said.

“Why not? You have a nice girlfriend. Don’t tell me you are a wild child, too.”

“I wouldn’t say that normally,” Brandon said. “But some things have changed . . .”

“Ah, your teen years, that’s all,” Mr. Worthington re-assured. “I shouldn’t have told you that story. Now you’ll think you are a werewolf, too!” Mr. Worthington laughed.

When we didn’t join in his laughter, Mr. Worthington grew concerned.

“Did I offend you?” he said.

“Of course not,” we both replied.

“You don’t seem to be the serious type,” he went on. “I thought I could poke a bit of fun.”

“But we are still interested in your stories,” Brandon interjected. “Is there any more you can tell us about the legend? About my family?”

“Ah . . . yes.” Mr. Worthington appeared delighted that we—or rather that anyone—was interested in his stories. Many of the seniors at the retirement home longed to talk about their past, but when no one came to visit them, the stories were left to be heard by busy staffers, nurses, or doctors.

“He lived in isolation. Every time there was a full moon, he roamed the woods alone, tormented by his condition—afraid he’d attack and afraid of being hunted down. Naturally the townsfolk were always trying to find ‘the wild creature cursed by the moonlight.’ There were those who said their livestock were mauled by him, and even a story in which a man claimed to be attacked by him. But without photos or other proof, they were just thought to be only stories.”

“Did anyone try to help your great-grandfather?” Brandon asked.

“Yes. The local Native American chieftain and several gypsies. Potions, salves, and spells. But nothing kept the full moonlight from changing him. Eventually he fled into the woods and never returned.”

I was saddened by his fate. Brandon hung his head low.

“I’ve often thought that is why your mother was so restless,” Mr. Worthington continued. “I can’t understand her behavior—not being responsible. Maybe it is just me trying to justify her behavior. But it is reprehensible.”

Brandon pushed his hair back off his face.

“But I see you have done fine, Brandon,” Mr. Worthington said. “Your father takes great care of you.”

“Yes. And now my grandparents do as well.”

“And you have this beautiful young lady here. You seem to have it all.”

“Yes, except one thing,” Brandon said.

“What is that?” Mr. Worthington wondered aloud.

“The answer to the mystery of your story.” Brandon leaned in toward his elderly relative. “What could cure the werewolf?”

“Ah . . . yes,” Mr. Worthington said. “That is what you came to find out? I think that is left up to science. Or the mystics. Or the imagination.”

“Mystics?” I asked. I wasn’t sure about going back to Dr. Meadows. But maybe we were supposed to heed Mr. Worthington’s advice.

“Science,” Brandon said as if that was the answer he’d been waiting for. “That’s just what I had in mind.”

“I guess we have to go to Dr. Meadows,” I said to Brandon when we got back into his Jeep.

“Charlie gave us the answer,” Brandon said. “My father.”

“But your dad isn’t a mystic.”

“I know. He’s a scientist.”

“But isn’t he in Europe?” I asked. Then I paused. “Does that mean you’ll have to go there?”

“I don’t know. I just know I have to tell him,” Brandon said. “But he’s going to freak out.”

“He’ll want to come and get you, won’t he?” I was worried that if his father took him back with him to Europe, I might never see Brandon again.

“Everything happened so fast,” Brandon said. “The thought of telling my dad—I was hoping to get this solved by myself. But I see now that I can’t.”

Of course I wanted Brandon to tell his father—we needed him to tell him. But I didn’t want his father to take him away from Legend’s Run and back to Miller’s Glen or as far away as Europe.

“He’s a busy man—and an ocean away. He’s going to totally flip out,” Brandon said when he pulled into his drive.

We both were lost in thought as he drove down his tree-lined driveway and parked by his guesthouse.

“How do you call your father and say, ‘Hey, Dad, I think I’m a werewolf’?” Brandon appeared overwhelmed by the task at hand and leaned back in his seat.