Page 41 of Bad Moon Rising

I pause when I’m standing behind the couch and exhale sharply when I see a figure kneeling in the center of the dark living room.

“Mom? Dad?” I ask in confusion, unable to see which one of my parents it is with the blinds drawn shut.

The figure freezes.

Trepidation uncoils inside of me, but I try to tamp down my growing unease as I reach for the light switch beside me. My heart bangs against my chest hard enough to crack a rib, and I can’t get my breaths to come in anything other than shallow, choppy pants.

Light suffuses the tiny living room…

And the dead bodies in the center of it.

The dead, mutilated bodies.

A scream builds in my throat as horror like I’ve never felt before crashes through me.

The first thing I see is my father sitting on the armchair, his wheelchair resting beside it. But his eyes… His eyes are wide and unseeing, and there’s blood—so much fucking blood—seeping through his navy blue bathroom. Both of his arms have been cut off, though I have no idea where those limbs went.

I stumble back a step in horror as my gaze flicks to the figure in the middle of my living room. With its back to me, I can’t see its face—can’t even tell the gender—but the mysterious stranger only captures my attention for half a second.

Because it’s then I notice my mother’s body.

“Mom!” I scream in anguish, staring at what remains of the woman I love.

Her decapitated head rests in the center of what appears to be a pentagram. The remaining five points each hold a different body part of hers—both of her arms, her legs, and…oh god… Is that her heart?

Tears trail down my cheeks as a strangled, desperate sob gets lodged in my throat.

No. No. No. No.

The figure rises, and I can’t help but note it looks tall—taller than the average human. It’s dressed entirely in black, the cloak swirling around its legs like mist.

Without a word, the stranger grabs something from its pocket, pours it on its head in a barrage of ashy flakes, and then disappears before my very eyes.

It’s only then that I begin to scream.

16

BROOKS

I don’t know how long I hold my brother, listening to the sounds of his twin growl and snarl and batter at the silo door while the full moon mocks us from the dreamless sky.

At some point, Jackson looks up at me. His tears have dried, and his eyes are set with determination. “You can go now,” he says. “We’ve got a couple of hours until the sun comes up. I’ll watch over him.”

“Are you sure?”

Jackson flashes a wonky smile as he holds up his stake. “I’m sure. He’s safe with me.”

I don’t want to leave him, but I want to be out of Haddenwood as soon as it gets light, before the cops come calling. We need supplies, money, clothes, food, IDs.

I pat Jackson’s shoulder as I stand up and brush myself off.

I’m halfway to the car when I hear him call my name.

“Brooks?”

I turn. “Yeah?”

“If you see Lily…” Jackson’s jaw wobbles. “Tell her… Tell her that I’m sorry.”

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