Page 13 of Luna & Andres

Mortale turned away from me. His voice lowered to a soft stutter. "I just-well, I just thought you'd want to keep your gun, that's all."

"And how'd you know it was mine?" I questioned him.

He raised his head and furrowed his brow. "It is your gun, isn't it?"

I slid off the mattress. My eyes never swerved from his confused expression. "And where did you pick it up?"

He looked down at the gun in his hand and frowned. "I. . .I don't remember."

I hopped out of the culvert and slowly approached him. "You don't remember, or you won't tell me?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I really don't-" I snatched the weapon from him. He winced as though I'd slapped him.

I pointed the barrel at his head. His eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. He held his palms out towards me.

"Whoa, wait a minute. What did I do?" he asked me.

"Everything," I told him.

"I didn't do anything. Really," he insisted.

I sneered at him. "Tch. Still trying to give me the innocent act? I've seen what you can become."

He placed a hand on his chest. "Become? I'm just me. Plain old Vincent Morale. There's nothing special about me."

"Don't lie to me. I've seen your other form. Your werewolf form," I revealed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he persisted. He took a step towards me. "Come on. You have to believe-" I stepped around the fire so we stood on opposite sides. He froze. A pained expression overrode his confused one.

"I don't have to believe anything you say. Now tell me about the werewolves, and don't lie to me," I ordered him.

"But I don't know anything about werewolves! I'm not a werewolf!" he persisted.

His eyes met mine. Those bright emerald eyes were steady and pleading. Even if I didn't believe him, he believed his own words. Doubt crept into my mind.

"Tell me what you remember about tonight," I commanded him.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I. . .I remember Matilda and Jeff coming home, and you came. Then I. . .I felt bad, so I went into the bathroom."

"And after that?" I persisted.

He shut his eyes and clutched his head in both hands. "I don't remember."

"Then how do you explain how we got here?" I wondered.

He cringed and turned away. His eyes reflected the glow from the fire. "I. . .I don't know. I really don't know how we got here, or why we're here." He stiffened and his hands balled into fists at his side. "But I want to know. I. . .I have to know something."

I lowered my gun a little. Just a little. "You have to know what?"

Morales sat down on his log and stared at the ground. He shook his head. "I don't know. I just know I have to get out of the city, and from there-" He hung his head. "I don't know. But I have to go. Something's waiting for me."

I tucked my gun in its holster and glared at him. "Then I'm coming with you."

He raised his head and stared at me with his mouth slightly agape. "You do? Why?"

"Let's just say I want to find out for myself what that thing is that keeps hanging around you," I answered as I seated myself on an overturned drum opposite him. I looked him over. "You have any cash on you?

He patted himself and shook his head. "Not a dime."

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