Page 117 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
Narrowing my eyes, I nudge her with my elbow. “What is it?”
Her eyes skate around the forest before she settles them on me. “I think you’re in danger.”
“Why do you say that?” I lift my brow, trying not to give anything away. There’s no way she knows about Joan missing… unless… she’s a spirit and I didn’t realize it.
I reach out and grab her hand. Nothing happens. No rush of memories, no sense of death or the other world filter through her hand to mine. Bea is alive.
That’s a relief.
“The badness is coming,” she says, chewing on her lower lip and glancing around again. “It always comes during the full moon. You have to leave.”
“What happens during the full moon?” I furrow my brow and continue to hold her hand.
Her face lines with worry and her eyes stray back to me. “Death.”
* * *
Everett findsme later in the cafeteria as I’m mindlessly chewing a bite of apple. Since Joan isn’t here demanding meat, I’ve been eating more fruit. Bea wouldn’t tell me much more than her ominous warning that death was coming. I’m not sure if she knows about the missing wolves the guys told me about and maybe that’s what she means, or if it’s something else. Either way, her eyes were haunted enough to make me worry. She’s seen something.
“What’s up?” Everett steals a piece of apple. He takes a bite and makes a face. “Ugh, my wolf does not like apples.”
“Then why did you take my food?” I ask, slapping his hand away when he reaches for my dinner roll. “Go get your own.”
He sighs dramatically. “Sharing is caring, Raven. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”
I glare at him. “Go get food.”
“Fine,” he says in mock offense. He gets up and moves to the buffet. There’s a short line, as per usual, and no one casts a glance in his direction. It’s almost like he doesn’t exist.
Which is impossible. I’ve touched him. He’s alive. Bea’s little confession has me a paranoid mess. Shaking my head, I finish the apple and move on to the steak.
“Happy?” Everett asks and sets his tray down across from me.
“Yup.” I grin. “So what are we doing tonight?”
He smirks. “I was thinking about a movie. The theater is playing300.”
“Really?” I pull a face. “This is Spartapiques your interest?”
“Says the woman who knows a line from the movie.”
I scoff. “Everyone knows that line.”
“How many times have you seen it?” He picks up his drink and takes a sip, watching me over the rim.
“Three,” I admit and glance away. “To be fair, it was my dad’s favorite movie for a while.”
And I’m not particularly interested in re-watching it because I’ll end up wallowing in the past and my grief.
“I’ll make them pick a new movie.”
I swing my gaze back to him; his face is set with determination. “Everett, you don’t have to—”
“Too late. What do you want to see?” He takes a giant bite of his steak and smiles at me.
With a shrug, I try to think of something that won’t be depressing. “Bridesmaids?”
Funny and not at all in the danger zone of thinking about my parents. Mom’s visit last night is still too fresh. I don’t want to cry in front of Everett.
