Page 28 of Bad Moon Rising

I need to remember who we’re doing this for.

I need to see her happy and radiant with someone normal, so I can snuff out this foolish dream that she could be mine.

My twin moves to stand beside me. I glimpse his reflection in the glass—he’s wearing a 1920s-style pinstripe suit and a fedora to top off the look. He looks so much cooler than Chase.

Jackson’s jaw clenches as he sees the car outside and the boy who should be him walking into the Dean house.

I don’t know how long we stand there, silent and lost in our own thoughts, but the front door opens again and Chase comes out…with Lily on his arm.

And she is radiant.

Luminous.

Perfect.

She laughs as she dances down the steps, twirling in a blood-orange dress that shimmers in the dusky light. Her hair is pinned up, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. Her eyes sparkle, and if I didn’t know that faeries are actually terrifying, capricious creatures with an ax to grind with humans, I’d say she was a faerie queen.

She’s magical.

Lily’s mother steps out on the porch, her phone raised, and begs them for just one more photo. Chase puts his arm around Lily’s shoulder, pulling her in close, and I want nothing more than to run outside and rip it off.

This is wrong. All wrong. It shouldn’t be Chase down there, laughing with our Lily.

It should be…

I glance at my brother and read the pain on his face. Jackson has made no secret of how he feels about Lily. The only reason he hasn’t made a move on her is because of me. Because he can read me just as well, and he won’t go after his own happiness if it leaves me behind. He’s always been like that—he could be the most popular guy in school if he ignored me, but he won’t do that. Not even for Lily.

And there was a while, before Brooks left, where we thought he had a thing for her, too…but that was obviously all in our heads.

Chase’s car roars away, taking our hearts with it. Jackson staggers back from the window, the spell broken. He shoves me downstairs, where Brooks is waiting. Our older brother paces across the living room, his duster flaring around his legs.

“I told you to be down here fifteen minutes ago,” he snaps, running his fingers through his hair

“Sorry. You can’t rush perfection. I guess it’s time for me to pick up my date.” Jackson straightens his lapels, though a grimace distorts his features on the word date. I get it—going on a date with anyone other than Lily sounds about as appealing as stabbing oneself in the eye with a rusty fork. “How do I look?”

“Ridiculous,” Brooks growls.

“Exactly what I was going for.”

Jackson leaves, twirling his keys around his finger. A moment later, I hear his car roaring down the street. Brooks shoves me toward the door. When he speaks, his voice is softer, and he sounds almost like the Brooks I remember—the older brother who would plan birthday parties and take us to the dentist when our parents were on the road. “Come on. We’d better get going.”

I climb into the passenger seat of the Mustang, while Brooks checks we have everything we need stowed in the trunk—stakes, restraints, salt, firestarters, bottles of chocolate syrup. Satisfied, he climbs in beside me, pulls his duster in after him, slams the door, and guns the engine.

“Let’s go gank a wolf.” He grins at me, and there’s something of Dad in his voice that makes my heart stutter. All those nights the three of us watched them drive away on a mission, wishing we could go with them, hoping and praying they’d come home safe. Years later, they’d take Brooks with them and he’d come home and have screaming nightmares for days.

They’d be so proud of us, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

As we drive out toward the old mill, I watch Brooks. He focuses on the road, nodding his head to one of his 70s prog rock playlists. This is just another day at work for him. He drives around the country with a trunk full of stakes and holy water and no idea if he’ll see the sunrise again. He doesn’t care that this wolf is a classmate of ours or that the monsters are in our town, threatening our girl.

All I can think is that if this wolf carves us up, Lily will be devastated.

* * *

“Where is he?” I stare at the clock on my phone for the hundredth time. The moon will be up in less than half an hour. What’s taking Jackson so long? He has to get here soon, or he risks Becka changing on him while he’s in the car.

“He’ll be here.” Brooks leans back on the Mustang’s hood. We’ve hidden the car behind one of the intact stone walls of the mill house, right behind the silo. Brooks cradles his arm behind his head and takes a sip from the hip flask pulled from the depths of his duster. He proffers it to me, but I shake my head. I’m nervous enough without being nervous and drunk.

“I’m going to call him.” I pull out my phone.

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