Page 46 of Blood Moon
The ground trembled. Branches snapped and rustled as a small wind caressed my face. I braced myself, until suddenly, all was quiet.
No one was there when I opened my eyes. I slid further down to capture a better view, but it was as if they’d been gobbled up by the thicket, dispersed into thin air.
Tried to breathe, but couldn’t. It had only been a matter of seconds, and they were gone. I swallowed, and behind my eyes were flashes of Bobby’s findings. The moon. Rena’s scars. A set of human tracks following behind a pair of animal ones. What could explain the actions that took place here?
And then I considered, what iftheywere the monsters? Albeit, each one of them appeared human, so the theory didn’t stick quite right. Another thought. What if, perhaps like my mother, they worked for someone as terrible as a monster, someone who controlled what they did and when? It was a loose concept, but it would explain why Julian knew so much about the necklace, why he was aware of the thing that threatened my safety.
I’d lived here my entire life, and never in my adolescence had I considered the lore in this town to have any truth to it. But now, in this upside-down reality, there was something feral about it, unbecoming, and the simple thought of that unveiling was something I couldn’t shake.
Because whatever just happened here had to be magic.
CHAPTER25
A noble sacrifice—it’s what you wanted from me.
Article IV, Lost Letters from Aadan the First
A week had passed. In that time, I’d read every published article I could find on the animal attacks in Timber Plains. It was true, they followed a pattern. A majority of the deaths occurred on the night of a full moon, and the survivors either reported the locations of the attacks or vanished.
Very few articles mentioned werewolves. The few that did were simply due to who was interviewed. The townies, the ones that believed in the folklore, proclaimed it was a werewolf every single time—a vicious beast that stood on two legs, howling at the moon. The victims, however, never witnessed what attacked them. This made many of the reports inconclusive.
On one of the days, I borrowed a car to return home. I needed to see Bobby’s collection again, study the reports he deemed crucial to the case. But the papers were gone, which I supposed was good for Bobby—growth—but it was a dead end for me.
Then there was the inexplicable behavior from Julian. We hadn’t conversed since the party, nor had I seen him since that night in the woods. Part of me wondered if he’d died at the hands of the woman that troubled him. Perhaps he’d been swallowed whole by a creature. Every thought was perturbing, and on the seventh day since I’d last seen him, I’d committed to filing a missing person’s report.
That was, until today.
A few yards away, amid the sea of hurried students, he was there. Only he wasn’t alone. Chase stood across from him, a firm hand on his shoulder. A showing of superiority as he leaned in with low brows and a snarl on his lips.
They stood in the darkness between buildings, and it wasn’t a conversation they shared, but rather what looked like an urgent warning. At once, Julian shook away from his grasp, leaving Chase behind as he headed toward the Lansing Building.
The tan bandage, wrapped around his right hand, caught my eye.Figures.He was a magnet to trouble, that boy. But what had happened? Did Chase fulfill his promise, or had the woman taken part in this?
However, when Julian sat beside me in class, I was completely unhinged.
He didn’t assess me, didn’t so much breathe in my direction. There was an airiness about Julian, a wispiness that worked its way through his muscle and bone, slowly molding him to the chair.
I leaned away, glaring as he began to jot down notes. Had he forgotten the aversion we shared? The malicious nature that tied us together and turned us upside down like a bunch of wilting, dead flowers? Perhaps. But as I further observed him, I saw additional signs of a prior conflict. A light scar on the apple of his cheek. Another on his forearm. Both fresh, still tinted shades of pink and red.
His mouth, his lips, were what I noticed next. I was seized by the sudden reminder of how we’d shared breath, how we’d come together to create a moment that still sent shudders through me. How the thought of it now made me ache. That kiss was perfectly imperfect. A memento of our past selves, something we’d never get back. Not in this reality. Not when everything was on the line.
I caught my breath, snapped out of it. “Why are you sitting here?”
Julian adjusted to the bend of the chair, pulled down the sleeves of his waffle-knit shirt. “What? I can’t sit here?” His voice was low.
A twitch there, in the corner of my eye. “It’s not that youcan’tsit here—it’s that you’ve never willingly sat by me before—but also …you can’t sit here.”
His gaze tracked the professor as she progressed to the next slide on the screen. “Was there someone else?” he asked.
“No.”
A half smile crept to his lips. “Then I think I’m fine where I am. Thanks for the concern. Very considerate of you.”
I made a disgusted sound, gripped the pen in my hand. At this, he regarded me. His stare starting at my hands and trailing to my eyes, studying me in a way that brought discomfort—and another feeling, one I wasn’t ready to admit, not even to myself.
“Mirabella, has anyone ever told you what a joy you are to be around?”
“Fuck you.” The words came out in a whispered breath, and I sank in my seat. Julian smiled, his eyes glistening with a response he didn’t say. Though I was certain it was grotesque. “And it’s Mira,” I grumbled.
