Blood Moon (18 page)

Beth motions all of us inside, and I step onto the foyer and realize everything is exactly how I remember. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Candra, dear,” says Beth, “your room is the first—”

“On the right, upstairs? Got it, thanks.”

All four adults stand dumbfounded in the entryway. I’m sure, if I could read their minds, they’d be questioning how the hell I know so much and why I’m acting so strangely.

I don’t hesitate to make myself right at home. Besides, this place
is
my second address. Well,
was
. I keep forgetting I’m not on the old time anymore.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, I say, “By the way, I know why you guys brought me here.”

They all share dubious looks, then restore their attention to me.

“It’s because you’re going to teach me how to become a werewolf,” I state matter-of-factly, displaying a clued-up grin on my face.

A few seconds of silence ensue before all four of them cackle and shake their heads.

“What an imagination you have, dear,” Beth announces through her laughter. “Amy, Bill, you two never told me she was one for theatrics.” She ushers them toward the kitchen, where a pot filled with goodness bubbles on the stove. “Did she take acting lessons? She’s quite good.”

I have to close my mouth; it’s wide open and cavernous. They’re joking, right? Is the universe toying with me? If it is, I don’t like being punked.

The longer I watch them from my spot upstairs, the more I realize they aren’t joking. And if that means I’m not here to become a werewolf, then what am I here for? I mean, yeah, it was my suggestion to my parents and the judge to ship me off so I could live with Randy and Beth, but I thought that was part of the plan. My fate. Whatever you want to call it.

I drag myself, and my suitcase, into the guestroom. I no more sit down on my bed than I’m hitting the floor running to the bathroom, where I throw up. Car sickness? No, that can’t be right. I would’ve been under the weather on the long trip up from Charleston by now. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold, or the flu. Oh, God, I hope not, especially when I’m about to embark on a quest to revisit everything I miss about Hartford. I can’t do that if I’m not well.

“Candra, dinner’s ready!” Mom calls from downstairs. I’m almost afraid to eat anything. Perhaps that’s the problem—I haven’t eaten in a while. Not since we stopped for gas and I scarfed down crappy, gas-station hot dogs.

“Coming!” I shout, as I leave the room and bound down the stairs.

The dining table is set with tableware and napkins, and Beth has bowls resting on the countertop, ready for use.

“You first, dear,” Beth says to me.

I obediently fix my dinner, grab a couple of slices of bread, and return to the table, where I wait for everyone else to join me.

“You guys were joking earlier, right?” I fearfully inquire, once they’re all seated. “About the werewolf thing, I mean.”

Mom and Dad contain their smiles, like they’re embarrassed I’m asking such a question. Mom’s the first to reply.

“Candra, why on earth would you believe we’re werewolves?” Visibly becoming more irritated, she adds with a sigh, “It’s such a silly inquiry, we had no choice but to think you’re joking.”

“But I’m not joking,” I emphasize.

“All right, Candra, that’s enough,” Dad belittles. “We’ve all had a long day—hell, a long month—and we understand you’re just as tired as we are, but that’s no excuse to continue this skit.” He spoons a huge bite into his mouth and compliments Beth on her cooking.

“It’s not a skit,” I mumble.

Dad’s fists pound the table once, causing the tableware to clink. “Enough!” he shouts. Lowering his voice, he adds, “Stop it. Do you understand? This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not,” I agree. “It’s not hilarious. It’s not a joke. I’m being dead serious. Am I really not here to become a werewolf?”

Randy and Beth refuse to look at me. Instead, they keep their gazes directed at their food, as if I’m not even in the room.

“I’m with your father on this one,” Mom says, raising her voice. “Go to your room.” She extends her arm, pointing toward the stairs.

Lifting my chin, I respond with a bold-faced, “No.”

Dad pulls the napkin from his lap and tosses it onto the table. “That’s it, young lady. You’re grounded. I don’t care if you are in someone else’s house. No TV. No phone. You go to school, eat, sleep, and do your homework. That’s it.”

“That’s all I do anyway,” I retort. Ignoring both my parents, I turn to Beth. “Are there Rendall’s or Thomas’s who live around here? Do you know them?”

Fumbling over the right words, Beth finally says, “I’ve heard the names, but I’m not familiar with them.”

Well, that’s somewhat of a relief. Let’s hope it’s actually the Jana Rendall and Blake Thomas I came to know and befriend.

One more question . . .

“Candra, what’s the meaning of this?” Mom interjects before I open my mouth.

My resolve undeterred, I press forward. “And the Conway’s? Do you know them, too?”

To my surprise, Beth’s face illuminates. “Oh, yes. I know the Conway’s well. They’re good friends with Randy and me. As a matter of fact, they have a son who’s your age.”

My heart soars, and the intense mass in my stomach has lifted, leaving a bundle of pulsating nerves in its wake. “Ben?” I squeak.

Beth chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s concerned, and she has every right to be. “Candra, dear, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know so much about a town that you’ve never visited, with people you’ve never met?”

“Call it a hunch,” I say. “Or maybe I have a third eye. Or maybe I’m just a creepy stalker on Facebook, who searched for kids going to the same high school as me.”

Shaking her head, Beth says, “The Candra I’ve known my entire life is
not
a stalker.”

“So I’m right, then? They have a son named Ben?” I push for more information, wishing and hoping Beth will supply me with the response I’m searching for.

“Yes, dear, they have a son named Ben. They have another son, too.”

That doesn’t sound like the Conway’s I know. “They should have two more sons—Cameron and Ethan,” I dispute.

For a moment, Beth seems completely flabbergasted. She recovers promptly and replies, “They do have an older son named Cameron, who is off at college. I’m afraid I don’t know Ethan.”

My throat swells up so tightly I can’t swallow. “No Ethan?”

“No, dear,” Beth confirms, appearing uneasy about my mental well-being.

“But that means . . .” Oh, my poor, sweet Ben. If he’s my old Ben, if he remembers me and everything that’s happened over the last year, I honestly don’t know how he’ll handle the news. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a sibling. He thought we’d return to our previous lives—we both did—yet everything’s changed. And if Ethan never existed, who else is left out of the equation? Jana? Blake? Maggie, Sean, and Layla have already been removed.

I guess Georgina was correct when she informed us that our previous existence, and all that we had known, may not be as we remember it.

“I’m not gonna lie, kiddo,” Randy says, “you’re freaking me out.”

Speechless, I scoot my chair away from the table and exit the room without looking at anyone. I’m absolutely terrified about this new revelation. This means my family members really aren’t werewolves anymore, Ethan never took a breath in this world, and Ben’s memories may not be the same as mine. Every kiss, every hug, every soft touch and tender moment shared between us might be lost forever.

Although, there may still be hope . . .

Some of the items and people in this life mimic those of the past. Even now, as I glance around the guestroom, it’s exactly as I remember—the paint, the bed, the chest of drawers. All identical. Randy and Beth, and my parents, appear to be unchanged, as well.

I casually stroll to the window and peer out. Recalling the first time I stood here and saw the golden eyes of a werewolf, how terrified I was . . . now it seems trivial. For the briefest of moments, I silently wish they’ll reappear. Just once, so I can feel like a part of me isn’t losing my mind. The longer I stare at the forest, however, the more I realize they aren’t going to materialize.

To say I miss seeing yellow eyes, which were a major part of my old life, is an understatement, but it’s something I must face head-on. I, Candra Lowell, am no longer a werewolf with magical powers. My family is no longer in a centuries-old feud with the Conway’s. All of my prior accomplishments as a mythological creature, all of my efforts to end the war between my family and Ben’s have vaporized into nothingness. I should be overjoyed at the thought of not having to fight in battles against my arch enemy, but instead, I’m overflowing with profound misery. Part of me is gone for all eternity, and I will never get her back. It’s a heavy feeling. Difficult to comprehend, even. It’s as if someone reached into my chest and snatched my heart, crushing it between their fingers and laughing all the while.

A soft knock comes from the doorway to my new room. I swivel around as Mom and Beth cautiously enter. They seem guarded, like I have land mines planted underneath the floorboards and they’re speculating whether or not they should move one more step.

Observing their wary expressions, I blurt, “I haven’t lost my mind, you know. And if I told you the full story, you wouldn’t believe me. Just know I’m going through some . . . adjustments right now, and I need you guys to be there for me, even if you don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom coos, “I’ll always be here for you.” She crosses the room and enfolds me in her arms, lovingly, so my cheek is smushed against her shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, you let us know.”

See, the thing is: I don’t know if I can tell them. The real story might get me sent off to a mental institution with a diagnosis of “dissociation.” They’ll visit every now and then, they’ll throw pity parties on a daily basis, and I’ll forever be known as the girl who believed she was a werewolf in another lifetime. It’ll be a charade.

I pull away from my mom’s embrace and glimpse at Beth. “Is there a way I could meet the Conway’s before Monday?” Having not thought of a legitimate excuse as to why I want to meet a family I’ve never met, I hastily add, “It’d be nice to meet Ben, since he’s my age. At least I’ll know somebody.”
Because nobody else will remember me.

Beth claps her hands together once, with enthusiasm. “Of course, dear. I’ll call Sylvia and ask her and the boys to join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow it is, then. Tomorrow I’ll learn whether Ben remembers me as much as I remember him. Tomorrow I’ll discover if I have to start over from the beginning.

“Awesome, thanks,” I say, with a smile.

Beth leaves us alone, closing the door on her way out. Mom and I plunk down on the edge of the bed. I finger the thick fabric of the quilt as a distraction. Honestly, I don’t know what to say to Mom, or how to say it.

Luckily, she starts the conversation.

“There’s something I want you to have. I was going to wait and give it to you before we left tomorrow afternoon.” Reaching into her front pocket, she pulls out a folded envelope. If this is what I think it is, the contents contain a silver heart locket and a letter. “Go ahead,” Mom says, handing it over. “Open it.”

Obediently, I tear the envelope. Inside, however, there’s only a letter. No necklace. I even run my fingers from side to side, double-checking I didn’t miss anything. Then I realize that’s because it never existed in this world. There are no magical powers, so therefore I don’t need a piece of jewelry to hold them. Though I doubt it to be possible, my heart shrivels even more. I guess I need to get used to the idea that nothing will be as it was.

As I slide the letter out, Mom bites her lip, anticipating my reading of whatever emotions this piece of paper expresses.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait until after you guys leave?” I ask.

She replies, “Only if that’s what you want. I’m not forcing you to read this letter now. I just wanted you to know, in light of the most recent events, that your father and I will always stand by your side, through the good and the bad. Forever.”

I snort. “Sounds like you’re reciting wedding vows.”

Mom chuckles along with me, then dabs her finger at the inner corners of her eyes. I unfold the stationery and begin to read.

Candra,

I know you don’t understand why we did this, and this was the hardest decision we’ve ever made, but just know it’s for the best. Your father and I love you so very much, and only want your future to be bright and prosperous. I think you’ll come to like Randy and Beth, as they are wonderful people.

Please call me as soon as you can.

Love always,

Mom

I really don’t know what to say—other than the fact that the silver heart locket part has been omitted—so I throw my arms around my mom’s neck. She returns the hug and lightly taps my back, like she always does; it’s a Mom thing, I guess. Then I realize how much I’m going to miss her and Dad. This time around, I can’t call them to say our enemy is wreaking havoc on my life. They won’t pack their bags and drive up immediately. No, this time around, they’ll stay put in Charleston, until I graduate next May.

My stomach rocks back and forth, like I’m aboard a ship at sea.
Oh, no.
It’s that sick feeling I had earlier. Just as I think that, my body automatically heaves forward against my will. Thank God there’s a bathroom in here; otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it to the toilet.

“Candra, are you all right? I’m worried about you,” Mom says. Next thing I know, she’s running a washcloth under cold water and applying it to the back of my neck.

Hugging the toilet, I vomit my dinner. “I don’t know,” I choke out. “I think I’m sick.”

“Oh, dear,” Mom fusses, “I hope you’re not coming down with something. Maybe it’s a stomach bug. You know, I heard there’s one going around back in Charleston.”

“Mom,” I say hoarsely, “there’s
always
a stomach bug going around. It doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re in, people are constantly ill.”