Whispers at Moonrise (11 page)

Tears filled her eyes. Kylie screamed louder when she realized she once again lay flat on her back. Darkness swallowed her up. Panic tightened when she felt something moving at her side. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She leapt up and banged her head so hard, it rattled her brain. She collapsed on her back again.

“Where the hell are you?” A voice echoed around her. A familiar voice. Della’s voice. “Mofo!” Light suddenly filled Kylie’s vision. “What are you doing under there?”

Kylie gasped, swallowed her scream, and realized she lay on her bedroom floor with a shivering Socks plastered to her side.

“You are just too friggin’ weird.” Della, looking half-pissed and half-asleep, stood over Kylie holding the bed up above her head. Yes, the whole twin bed—frame and mattress. Holding it up as if it were nothing more than a lightweight piece of foam.

Socks let out a pathetic meow.

Afraid Della might drop the bed, Kylie snatched up the little skunk and lunged to her feet. Her knees wobbled; the skunk trembled in her arms. She glanced down, praying it would be her bedroom floor and not a grave.

No grave. No dead girls. No dead Holiday.

Kylie inhaled. As much as she wanted to push the gruesome memory from her brain, she couldn’t. Something in the vision might help her. Help her figure it out so she could prevent it from happening. Help her save Holiday’s life.

“What the hell is going on?” Della asked again. “Or do I not want to know?”

“Sorry. Bad dream.” Kylie’s voice shook.

Della dropped the bed. It banged and clattered on the floor.

“Is there a ghost here?” Della glanced around, obviously not believing Kylie’s bad dream excuse.

Kylie took a second to feel the temperature. “No,” she said honestly.

Della studied her, her expression softening. “Are you okay?”

Kylie nodded and watched Della’s frown return.

“And you aren’t going to explain this?” Della asked.

Kylie shook her head. Della really didn’t want to know.

“Then good night!” The little vamp shot out of the room, leaving as quickly as she’d come.

Kylie breathed in. Breathed out. Tried to calm her racing heart.

She tried to see the bright side—the bright side of being in a grave with three decaying bodies.

Not an easy task.

However, at least she had something to go on. But would it help her? Oh, God, it had to, didn’t it?

She pulled Socks closer, offering comfort and trying to take comfort in holding something as scared as she was. It might have worked if the loud knock on her window didn’t have her heart slamming against her rib cage. Kylie jumped clear across the room.

Another scream rose in her chest, but before she released it, she spotted Miranda peering through, her palm pressed against the glass.

“You coming?” she yelled. “We’re going to lose the first light.”

The cold filled the room. And so did the spirit. Kylie looked over at the ghost who looked just like Holiday.
“I’m so sorry. She shouldn’t have done that.”

Kylie tried not to envision Holiday, or God help her, the Holiday lookalike, as she had appeared in the grave. “It’s okay,” Kylie said, and she meant it. She could do this. If hanging out with dead people would save Holiday, she’d do it. Heck, she’d dance with the dead if it meant saving Holiday.

“I need to know things,” Kylie said. “You need to show me things so I can figure out how to help you.”

“Show you what?” Miranda asked.

Kylie ignored Miranda.

The spirit shook her head.
“I told you, I don’t think I’m the one you have to help.”

And wasn’t that just like Holiday, Kylie thought, too damn stubborn to accept help. Even in ghost form.

“The only help I need is you to bring out Socks,” Miranda called from the window again.

“You should go,”
Holiday said.
“That little fellow would like to be a cat again.”

Kylie looked at Miranda and then back to the spirit. “How do you know what he wants?”

“It’s one of my gifts; I can communicate with animals.”

“No, you can’t,” Kylie said. Or Holiday couldn’t communicate with animals. Did supernaturals who passed over change their gifts? Kylie didn’t think so. Did that mean this wasn’t Holiday? And if so, who was she?

“Fine, you want him to stay a skunk,” Miranda said in her irate voice.

Socks chose that moment to put his paw over his eyes and Kylie moaned.

*   *   *

A few minutes later, Kylie walked out behind the cabin with Socks held close to her chest. It was still dark and quiet, as if the world hadn’t woken up yet. Unlike her, the world didn’t get woken up by witches or visions of dead people.

The air held an early morning chill, one of the first signs that summer had outworn its welcome and fall waited nearby to fill its shoes.

When she took another step, she felt it. The calling. Her gaze shot to the edge of woods. Her heart raced and the temptation to move closer whispered her name like an old friend.

Kylie took one step, almost answering the unexplainable yearning, but Miranda’s voice pulled her back. “What took you so long?”

“I had to get him out from under the bed,” Kylie said, not in the mood to do this, but she remembered the insecurity in Miranda’s voice when they’d talked earlier about the other witches giving her a hard time about the goof. Since the first morning light lasted only a few minutes, it was a small price to pay for Miranda’s happiness. Then Kylie would sit down and rehash what she’d gotten from the dream. Something in there had to help her make sense of the visions.

Miranda, holding her little black pouch of magic herbs, led Kylie around to the back. “I haven’t mistreated him. I have no idea why he doesn’t like me.”

“I know.” But after a month of Miranda following the skunk around trying different spells, Socks had grown leery of her. Kylie would have grown leery of her, too.

Miranda looked up at the eastern sky and saw the light. “It’s time.” She did a little happy dance. “Put him down.”

Kylie gave Socks’s black-and-white fur a soft stroke. As crazy as it sounded, she would miss his skunk side. Savoring the sight of him in skunk form one last time, she set him down and backed up, giving Miranda space to work her magic. Of course, Socks started following her, not wanting to be left behind.

“Stay,” Kylie said, and motioned for Miranda to start.

Miranda began chanting. Something about light and your true self. Socks started forward again. Miranda waved at Kylie to catch him. Kylie spoke gently to the skunk and he stopped moving. Then, reaching into her bag, Miranda pulled out a pinch of a strange herblike substance. She tossed it in the air over Socks; a few pieces popped and sizzled as they rained down around him.

Kylie held her breath, waiting to see her beloved pet transform into a feline. But nope. The little animal with a white stripe down his back remained in his skunk form.

Miranda frowned up at the sky and commenced chanting again. She tossed more herbs in the air. This time, Socks rose up on his short skunk legs and swatted his tiny paws at the sparkles.

Yet even after all the sizzle of crackling herbs, he remained the same black-and-white skunk. Miranda looked back at the sky as if desperate and commenced another chant.

She held up her little black bag over his head and just shook it down on the animal.

Socks spotted the string hanging from the pouch and leapt up in the air to catch it. When Miranda pulled it back, Socks started to leave.

“Stop him!” Miranda’s frustration rang loud and extra clear.

Kylie knelt and waved the little guy back. His beady black eyes looked at Kylie with confusion. Empathy for her pet filled her chest.

Miranda started to chant again.

Socks tried to escape again.

Miranda insisted Kylie stop him again.

It continued for several more minutes until Kylie held up her hand. “This isn’t going to work.”

“It has to,” Miranda said. “I only have another few minutes of first sun. Just keep him there.”

As if Socks understood, he darted between Miranda’s legs.

“No,” Miranda said.

Kylie caught the confused animal. “I think he’s had enough,” she offered in her most sympathetic voice.

“But he’s still a skunk. Put him down. I can do this. I
have
to.”

Kylie understood Miranda’s need to prove herself, but … “Can’t you try again tomorrow?”

“One more chant. Really quick, please? All he has to do is stand there.”

Relenting, Kylie set Socks down and Miranda went back to reciting some fancy spell.

When Miranda stopped and Socks was still a skunk, Kylie gave Miranda a look of condolence. “It’s okay. We’ll try another time,” Kylie said, beginning to lose her patience.

“Wait. I forgot to bless the light and wind.” Miranda paused as if recalling the words.

Kylie held her hand out, pinky first, and muttered, “Why can’t you just wave your pinky at him and say, ‘Change back into a cat’?”

The pieces of herbs left on the ground shot up in the air. They crackled and popped around the little skunk and then started swirling around him like a tiny tornado. Socks, raised up on his hind legs, swatted at the bits of herb.

And then, just like magic—well, it
was
magic—Socks the skunk disappeared and Socks the feline appeared.

Miranda gaped at Kylie. “How did you do that?”

Kylie’s gaze shot back to her kitten, still batting at the sparkling herbs floating around him. “I didn’t do that!” She stared at Miranda.

“Oh, my gawd!” Miranda squealed.

Someone whisked past them in a blur.

“What the hell is it now?” Della came to a jolting stop by Miranda.

“She’s a witch.” Miranda pointed at Kylie. “You’re a witch.”

Kylie shook her head. She was a chameleon. “I didn’t do that. It was you. Just … a delayed reaction.”

“No. You’re a witch. Right now, you’re a witch.”

Della rolled her eyes. “What the hell?”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do that,” Kylie insisted.

And she hadn’t. Had she?

Della squinted at Kylie.

“Mofo!” Della said.

Miranda slapped her forehead a couple of times. “Your pattern says you are a witch.”

“What’s wrong?” A deep voice came from behind Kylie.

Kylie turned around. Derek, looking disheveled as if he’d climbed out of bed in a hurry, came running up.

“She’s a witch,” Miranda screeched.

“No,” Kylie said. Swinging around, she stared at Socks, still in feline form. Her father had told her she was a chameleon. Her father would know, right? Sure, she hadn’t wanted to be a lizard at first, but she’d accepted it. Besides, why would her father lie?

From the corner of her vision, she saw Derek move in front of her. His brow pinched.

“It’s not true, is it?” Kylie waited for Derek to deny it.

Doubt filled her. Had Daniel lied? Had her grandmother just been confused when she told Kylie’s father they were chameleons? But why would Burnett have heard of chameleons if they didn’t exist? Why did her life have to be so damn difficult?

“Tell me already!” Kylie insisted. “Am I a witch?”

Chapter Eleven

Derek nodded. “It’s true. Your pattern says you’re a witch.”

Miranda folded her arms against her chest. “Don’t you want to be a witch?” She sounded offended.

“Of course she doesn’t want to be witch,” Della mouthed off, still looking pissed at being woken up. “It’s boring as hell. You don’t do anything but throw herbs around and the only way you can fly is on a broom.”

“It’s not boring! And I do not fly on a broom! I swear, one witch did that and now we all get stereotyped.” Miranda’s eyes tightened with anger.

“Admit it,” Della said. “If you had the power to change yourself, you’d be a vampire.”

Miranda vehemently shook her head. “Who would want to be a bloodsucking, cold bitch with fangs!”

Kylie stared at the two of them verbally sparring, tossing insults so fast she couldn’t even keep up. Then, too befuddled to intervene, she grabbed Socks before he wandered off in the woods.

Her gaze shifted back to the trees. The woods still called to her. What the hell was going on?

Her mind whirled as she headed to the cabin. Derek fell in step beside her. His shirt, left unbuttoned, fluttered open, exposing his hard abs. Not that she really noticed. Okay, so she noticed, but it didn’t mean anything. Except that she was female and females found shirtless guys appealing.

“You’re feeling confused,” Derek stated.

“Yup.” She didn’t slow down. She couldn’t. She was too annoyed that she found him so appealing. Too annoyed at the damn woods calling her like an old friend to come out and play. She didn’t have any old friends. Not anyone looming in the woods.

“You’re feeling betrayed,” he said.

“Yup. Well, sort of.” She continued to the cabin and snuggled her kitten to her chest. Her heart ached and the beginning of tears stung her eyes.

“And you’re scared.”

“Three out of three,” she said. Yet all she felt now was …

“Frustrated.” Derek finished her thought for her.

She stopped and looked him dead in the eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what I feel. I know what I’m feeling.”

“And you’re in a pissy mood,” he added with a smile. When she didn’t respond in kind, his humor faded. “Sorry. I’m just … I want to understand.”

“You know what I’m feeling; what more do you need to understand?” She stormed up the porch steps with Socks tucked under one arm, and yanked the door open so hard it made a loud banging sound when it hit the wall. Socks flinched. Derek followed her inside.

“I know your emotions, but I can only guess the reasons for them.”

She dropped down on the sofa and held Socks in her lap. “Look, I’m in a really bad mood right now, and I suggest you might want to leave.”

Derek dropped down beside her. He ignored what she said and continued, “For example, I know you’re afraid, but what are you afraid of? Are you frustrated because you’re a witch, or because your two best friends can’t stop biting each other’s heads off? And who are you feeling betrayed by right now? Is it me? Is it about…”