Magic of the Moonlight: A Full Moon Novel (10 page)

Dr. Maddox patted my shoulder and guided me away from the sleeping werewolf. I felt bad for Brandon that his heroism had come to this.

“He may be angry tomorrow,” Dr. Maddox said when we reached my car.

“I think I will be, too,” I mumbled.

ELEVEN

willow park

U
nfortunately the next day was a Saturday, so I awoke with a bit of melancholy, knowing I wouldn’t see Brandon in class. I could only imagine how Brandon would be feeling today, given his struggle with us last night. I called and texted him obsessively but didn’t get a response. I got dressed and hurriedly drove to his house, but it didn’t appear that anyone was home. I knocked on his guesthouse door and the main house door, but no one answered. Even Apollo wasn’t barking.

I wondered if his entire family had picked up and left town. Or did Brandon flee the area or not come home and they were out looking for him? I was worried. My mind was overcome with worst-case scenarios.

When I got home, “Fly Me to the Moon” began to play. I scrambled for my cell phone.

“Brandon?” I asked, breathless. “Are you okay?”

“Celeste?” a man’s voice answered.

“Dr. Maddox?”

“Yes. I wanted to call you and say thank you for your help last night. You are braver than I am.”

“Uh . . . you are welcome.”

“And I think the medical profession would be lucky to have you, though I’m not sure how many patients will struggle like my son did last night.”

“Where is Brandon?” I asked, worried.

“He’s right here.”

I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“I just wanted to talk to you first,” he continued.

“I appreciate your help, Dr. Maddox, and I’m sure Brandon does, too.”

I heard a pause and another voice in the background. “Celeste,” Brandon said into the phone.

“Brandon, are you okay?” I asked anxiously.

“Yes,” he said. “Now that I am talking to you.”

I melted hearing the comfort of his sexy voice. “How are you feeling?”

“A little moody, but I know a cure for that. It’s seeing you.”

I smiled into the phone.

“Meet me at Willow Park tonight?” he asked softly.

“Of course!”

“We’ll have a real date,” he said. “This time without my father.”

I hummed, sang, and whistled the whole way to the park. It was going to be a date to remember. It was the third day of the full moon. It was the last day in this cycle that Brandon would turn into werewolf form. And if we were lucky and his father could make an antidote, then this might be the last time I saw him in werewolf form forever.

That said, Dr. Meadows’s words still haunted me. But if Brandon was really dangerous, wouldn’t he have bitten me already? Last night, he could have bitten me or his father—and with all his anger, he still hadn’t. That’s not who Brandon was as a human or as a werewolf. He was kind and generous and ultimately so magnetic that the thought of being apart from him made me physically upset.

I carried a basket with a picnic dinner for us—a baguette sandwich with layers of roast beef, along with two sodas and chocolate cupcakes I’d made and topped with plastic wolves. I’d tied a pink scarf around the handle of the basket to add a little flirty romantic flare. I wanted to bring something special for my hot carnivore. I headed out early, just before sunset, so I could set the scene in the woods before he arrived.

As I drove through the twisting roads, I noticed a car following me into the parking lot. I caught sight of it in my rearview mirror. It was a familiar Beemer. Nash had followed me.

I got out of my car in a huff.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Nash. You can’t follow me everywhere.”

“Celeste, I can’t let you put yourself in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.”

“The full moon will be out soon. Please, come with me.” He grasped my arm.

“No, Nash.”

“Then I’m going to have to tell Ivy and Abby—”

“
No,
Nash. I want to tell them. They are my friends. The truth needs to come from me.”

“Then you admit it. He’s really a werewolf!” Nash seemed shocked by my statement.

“No—I admit that I’m dating him. And I’m happy to tell them.” I’d been keeping Brandon’s and my romantic relationship a secret for Brandon’s sake—so he wouldn’t be more tormented at school if Nash proclaimed he’d seen the Westsider’s transformation. But the part about Brandon truly being a werewolf—I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about that.

“It is a full moon tonight and it’s almost dark, Celeste,” he said. “I’m really asking you as your friend—come back with me.”

“And I’m asking you, as your friend, to let me go.”

“Celeste—we don’t have to get back together—” he said. “It’s not about that anymore. It’s about you. Please. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Nash was as sincere as I’d ever seen him. This was different from when he had tried to charm me to get another kiss. He was really pleading with me not to go—for my sake, not his.

“I can’t just stand here and watch you walk into a darkened place to meet a werewolf,” he said. “Are you insane?”

Perhaps I was, if Brandon had been like what people might expect a werewolf to be. Dr. Maddox, Dr. Meadows, and Nash were concerned for my safety. So why was I so sure Brandon would be different? Maybe I’d been so blinded by love that I couldn’t see the forest through the wolves.

I paused. For a moment I really reflected. Nash was my friend, my first crush. A guy I’d known for years. He was happy and handsome and well liked. Brandon was an outsider, a guy whose father was now afraid of him, and a werewolf. It wasn’t very logical, but I knew I had to follow my heart—and that would lead me into the woods.

I turned away from Nash and made my way to the end of the asphalt before he stopped me.

“You are just going to walk into this forest alone?” he asked.

I didn’t reply. He already knew the answer.

He peered in my basket—noticing the contents.

“Are these the things a werewolf eats?” he asked, the sun setting behind him. “What if it’s you he’s planning to eat for dinner?”

A deer shot out from the woods a few yards away from us. It stopped along a wooded brush near our cars.

“See?” I said. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yes. But you should be enjoying it with me, not some circus freak.”

“But you never wanted to do these things,” I charged.

“I do now,” Nash said sincerely. “And I want to do them with you.”

He stepped in front of me, blocking me from going any farther toward the woods, and then I noticed a pair of gray eyes a few feet behind him.

I raised my hand to him. “Uh . . . you need to stay still.”

Nash and I were between a wolf and his prey.

“Don’t tell me how I should behave,” he said angrily.

“Nash, I’m serious.” I spoke softly, my voice quavering. “There is something behind you.”

“Are you pranking me?”

I shook my head with fear.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A wolf,” I whispered.

“Now I know you’re pranking!”

He swung around so quickly that he startled the wolf. It growled low and fierce. Nash gasped and, in the motion, twisted and lost his footing. He stumbled.

The wolf must have thought Nash was attacking. The animal sprang forward and within a heartbeat had taken Nash’s arm in its mouth.

Nash yelled a horrible, gut-wrenching yell.

I screamed and dropped the basket.

Nash tried to kick the wild wolf away, but it kept its jaws clamped on his arm.

I screamed again as I searched the area for a branch or anything to help.

Just then I heard another howl from the woods.

The wolf’s ears perked up, and he released Nash. Nash yanked his arm away and stepped back from the wolf.

The wolf stared at Nash and growled as Brandon raced out of the woods and jumped between Nash and the wild wolf.

Brandon stared at the wolf with such fierce intensity that the wild animal retreated in fear, backing away slowly before turning and loping off into the woods.

I was very relieved but still scared, and tears streamed down my face.

“Are you okay?” Brandon asked me, resting his hands on my shoulders and looking at me squarely. His gray eyes stared down at me. I could barely nod my head.

“But he’s not,” I said, pointing to Nash.

Brandon noticed blood dripping from Nash’s arm and ran to the basket. He untied the scarf from the wicker handle and handed it to me.

“I thought that thing was going to kill me,” Nash said, in shock.

“You’re all right now,” I said, trembling. “It’s over.”

I tied my silk scarf around Nash’s arm, just like I’d done to Brandon in the wintry woods. The pink scarf was quickly dotted bloodred.

Nash was clearly shaken. The things he feared most in life—wolves—had attacked him. Maybe he had a sense about them all his life. Legend’s Run was known for a wolf population, but Nash wasn’t a hunter, and before this school year, we hadn’t seen any up close and personal. I always found his fear to be odd, but it was one of the things that made Nash vulnerable.

I rubbed Nash’s back as he was, understandably, still visibly shaken.

“It’s okay, man,” Brandon said. “You’ll be okay.”

“I can’t believe you look so different,” Nash said. “You look like a wolf yourself.”

Brandon cracked a smile, exposing two sharp lycan fangs.

“You’d better drive him to the hospital,” Brandon instructed.

Brandon didn’t have time to kiss me good-bye before he disappeared into the woods. His gray eyes shone through the edge of the woods as I drove Nash out of the park.

Instead of spending a romantic date with Brandon in the woods, I hung out with Nash and his family at the hospital while he got his wounded arm stitched.

Though the handsome jock might never admit it, I knew he was grateful to Brandon for saving him from the wolf.

Nash was tested for rabies, and the doctors said we would know within a few hours if he was infected. But it wasn’t rabies that gave me cause for concern. I thought that Nash might be safe because he didn’t have the werewolf blood that Mr. Worthington had talked about having in his own ancestry running through him.

Or did he?

TWELVE

catfight

I
spent the next day, Sunday, inside, worried and exhausted from last night’s events. Everything I was doing seemed to be bringing harm to others—Brandon saving me in the woods and now Nash following me, both resulting in them being attacked by wolves. I didn’t have the strength to leave my home, and at this point I wasn’t sure if I should. I used the time to regroup and hope that my lack of presence would ensure no one was harmed.

The following day at school, Nash was greeted by the student body as if he were a hero. The story that floated around the hallways, locker rooms, and classes, and took on a life of its own, was that Nash had saved me from the wolf and was bitten in the process. He held out his bandaged arm like a warrior on a battlefield.

Nash was getting the acclaim Brandon deserved. Both times. It was Brandon who’d saved me from a wolf pack when I was lost in the woods, and it was Brandon again who’d saved Nash from an attacking wolf. And somehow, Nash got the credit. But I knew it wasn’t a good idea to tell anyone what really happened—especially that Brandon was a werewolf.

“Brandon saved your life,” I said to Nash later that day.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he was the one who sent the wolf out there.”

“How can you even think that? The wolf was stalking a deer. Brandon helped you!”

“And how can you be so naive? You saw how he was . . . he’s not human.”

I was fuming. I knew it was his pride that kept him from admitting the truth: that because he didn’t believe me he stumbled, and the wolf, feeling threatened, attacked him.

“Are you okay?” Ivy asked Nash when she got to class. “Celeste called me from the hospital.”

Nash flashed his bandaged arm like a medal.

“I can’t believe you were bitten,” Abby said, examining the bandage.

“Maybe it really was a werewolf,” Dylan added.

“A picnic in the woods,” Ivy said. “How romantic. But no wonder you came across a wolf. Haven’t you ever heard of a restaurant?”

“Maybe Nash should stick to movies,” Jake said.

I was about to tell my friends right there and then that it was Brandon who had saved us from the wolf when my hero entered the classroom.

Brandon locked gazes with me as he took his seat. The girls continued to coo over Nash’s wound as Nash turned back to Brandon and gave him a thankful nod.

After class, Brandon gestured for me to meet him. I gathered my books and told my friends I’d catch up to them and found him waiting for me underneath the staircase.

“My dad left today for Europe,” he said. “He’s going to try to make an antidote.”

“That’s great news!” I said, giving him a hug. “How long do you think it will take?”

“It will take a while, but he said he’d check on me and let me know as soon as he has something.”

“That’s terrific!” I said. I snuggled up to Brandon. I imagined what our life would be like together without the threat of his transformations.

“I was going to tell my friends about you saving Nash,” I said. “They don’t have to know why or how you saved him, only that you did.”

“It’s over with now. I’m just glad you’re okay—and that he is, too.”

Brandon’s caring nature made my love for him even deeper. It was then I knew I couldn’t keep the secret any longer.

*  *  *

I found Ivy and Abby at a round table in the library. Ivy was fiddling with her makeup, and Abby was working on homework.

I didn’t plan on telling them every detail about Brandon and me, but I was bursting to tell them it was him who I was interested in—not Nash. How could I continue to keep this a secret when my heart was going to explode with love every time I saw or even thought of him? And to see Nash parade himself around school as a self-proclaimed hero when in fact he’d have been torn to shreds if it hadn’t been for Brandon? I was sure Nash wouldn’t tell them that it was a werewolf that saved him, but I knew that my former boyfriend wasn’t in the position to publicly disparage Brandon now. There were two witnesses Saturday night who knew who’d really saved him from the attacking wolf. And Nash had more to lose by us telling everyone he wasn’t the hero than Brandon had in Nash proclaiming the Westsider was a werewolf. It was time to come clean. I sat down and was anxiously bouncing in my chair when Abby looked up from her textbook.

“Stop shaking the table,” she said. “You’re making me seasick.”

“I have something to tell you,” I said intently.

“Wow, Celeste,” Abby said, “you look like you have major news.”

“Are you and Nash engaged?” Ivy teased, putting her compact in her purse.

“It’s about Brandon,” I said.

“Brandon?” Abby asked.

“You want us to invite him somewhere else again?” Ivy asked. “I think we’ve done enough babysitting. Besides, Jake is getting really freaked out that we’ve been including him. I think he gets jealous. I mean, he has nothing to worry about, though—as if!”

Ivy was making this difficult confession even more challenging. “No,” I said. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Abby asked.

“I have a confession.”

“Oh . . .” Abby said. “Sounds serious. What is it?”

“Did you paint Brandon’s Jeep?” Ivy asked.

“No!” I said.

“Then what is it?” she said, waiting for details.

“I like . . .uh . . . I . . .”

“Just spill it out!” Ivy ordered.

“I like Brandon!” I exclaimed. There it was. I’d laid out my confession to my friends. It was like a huge weight off of me. I only had to wait now for their response.

“Brandon?” Ivy asked, shocked.

“Duh,” Abby said.

Ivy and I were surprised by Abby’s response.

“What?” we both said.

“You talk about him all the time,” Abby said. “Trying to invite him everywhere we go.”

“So you knew?” I asked.

“This is the secret Dr. Meadows told me a friend would be keeping from me!” Ivy screeched. “I can’t believe you told Abby first!”

“She didn’t,” Abby said in a huff. “It was intuition—I just knew.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” I proclaimed.

“It’s okay,” Ivy said, resigned. “We all get crushes on people. And I guess I can see why you’d feel sympathy for your pet project. It’s only natural. I think you’ve got that Stockholm syndrome thing.”

“It’s more than that,” I said. “I’ve been seeing him.”

Both girls gasped.

“What?” Ivy said. “What do you mean? You’ve—”

“Kissed Brandon Maddox?” Abby asked.

“Girls, keep it down over there—” the librarian admonished us.

I nodded.

“I don’t believe you,” Ivy said.

“I do,” Abby said. “He’s hot—except for being a Westsider and all.”

Abby smiled. There was a tiny rebellious streak that ran through her and, though she’d never be seen dating a Westsider, my news was wildly thrilling to her.

“I can’t believe this,” Ivy said, trying to process the information. “But I’m glad you told us right away. We can help you now.”

“So when did this happen?” Abby asked.

“Uh . . . a few months ago,” I said, baring my soul.

“A few months ago?” Ivy asked, shocked again.

I nodded.

“And you didn’t tell me—your best friend since first grade?” she asked.

“I’m her best friend, too!” Abby said.

“I can’t believe you!” Ivy said. “You’ve been secretly dating Brandon Maddox and you didn’t tell your own best friend?”

“Best friends,” Abby reiterated.

“I wanted to—in fact I even tried.”

Abby had a hard time controlling her smile.

“I guess you don’t think that much of me, do you?” Ivy asked with disappointment in her voice. “All this time, not saying a word. You obviously don’t think anything of our friendship—or me.”

Ivy was mad—or, rather, disappointed.

“But you always teased him.” I defended myself. “How could I?”

“I don’t know. . . . But you should have.” Ivy gathered her purse and backpack. “I don’t care that he’s a Westsider, Celeste. I’ve only wanted what was best for you. So maybe I was wrong. But at least I was honest with you, something you obviously didn’t feel you could be with me.”

“It didn’t happen like that, Ivy. Let me explain.”

Ivy turned her nose up and stood.

“What are you doing?” Abby asked.

“I can’t sit here anymore. Not with her.”

“Ivy,” I said, “let’s talk—please.”

But Ivy was inconsolable. I knew enough about her to know she’d need to cool off. But I’d never been the object of her disappointment, and it broke my heart that I now was. If I had it to do over, I would have loved to have told her sooner. But it was her repulsion toward the Westsiders that made it so hard to do. And whenever I’d tried, for some reason I had failed. And with Nash adding his threat to the mix, it had been put off even longer. My stomach was in knots. My best friend since first grade moved over to the other side of the room to be away from me.

But, oddly enough, Abby stayed with me.

“She’ll get over it,” she said.

“Will she?” I asked.

“I’ve been keeping a secret as well. Just like Dr. Meadows said I would.”

“You’re going out with a Westsider, too?” I tried to make myself laugh.

“No!” Abby said. “And Ivy will be mad with this one as well.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Since you’ve confessed,” she said, “I’ll confess, too.” She paused. “But you may be really mad.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me. I feel upset enough for one day.”

“But I want to tell you. Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Uh . . . sure.”

Abby took a deep breath. “I know who painted Brandon’s Jeep and locker.”

“Nash?”

She shook her head, then leaned into me and whispered. “Jake and Dylan.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“I found out a while ago when I saw some paint in Dylan’s car. He promised not to do it again.”

“Why did they do that?”

“To get back at Ivy and me. They were jealous of Brandon. Silly, huh?”

“Why would they be jealous of Brandon?”

“I guess Dylan felt threatened after Brandon returned Pumpkin. I hugged Brandon in the middle of class, remember? I invited him to my party. Ivy picked him up. It didn’t go over very well. Even Ivy just told you she could tell Jake was jealous.”

“Wow—I never would have thought it was them.”

“Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?”

“No, I understand.”

“I kind of thought you would—but Ivy, she’s going to be livid.”

“Yes, I guess she will.”

“And are you mad at Jake and Dylan? Please don’t be. They were doing it because of us—more so than because of Brandon.”

“No,” I said, my spirit still low from Ivy’s anger. “It wasn’t nice, but they did use water-based paints.”

“I am so relieved now that I’ve told you.”

“Me too,” I said truthfully, even though I felt low.

“That’s what friends are for,” Abby said.

“Yes, we should have done this a while ago,” I said, breaking a smile.

While Abby tied her hair into a ponytail, I pondered my future with my first best friend.

“Do you think Ivy will ever forgive me?” I asked.

“Perhaps after she forgives me,” Abby said.

I gazed at my best friend, who had her back to me, while Abby was still focused on me.

“You have to tell me everything,” she said. “Where, when, and why? And is Brandon a good kisser?”

I couldn’t help but grin and nodded enthusiastically.

“And most important,” she asked, “what are you going to do now?”

Ivy continued to ignore me for the rest of the day. She talked to Abby but shunned me, sat on the opposite end of our lunch table, and didn’t wait for me after any of our classes. I was truly relieved my friends knew about Brandon but upset that Ivy was so angry with me. However, I understood her feelings. And I think she was right to feel them.

“I told Ivy and Abby,” I said to Brandon after school.

“That I’m a werewolf?” he asked, surprised.

“No, silly. About us.”

“What?” he asked, confused. “But I thought we were going to wait until I got a cure.”

“I know. But Nash can’t say anything now. He owes you his life. And he knows we could tell everyone he wasn’t the one who drove the wolf away.”

“Wow . . .” he said, the news finally soaking in. “So you told Ivy and Abby about us?” he asked, flattered. “How did they take it?

“Ivy hates me, and Abby admires me.”

“Well—I’m sorry about Ivy . . . but Abby?”

“She thinks it’s cool that—in her mind—I’m rebellious. But I’m not being rebellious. I just want to be with you.”

He gave me a squeeze.

“Well, that’s a shame about Ivy,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll come around. I guess she really detests Westsiders.”

“No—it’s me. She’s upset I didn’t think enough of her to share the truth with her right away. I do understand her feelings. And I wanted to tell her sooner—but this town is so divided, and she has always claimed to hate the Westside. I didn’t want her to be mad, and I wound up making her upset anyway.”

“It’s okay, all of your intentions were good.”

“I really am sad she’s so upset with me.”

“Maybe it’s best if you eat lunch with her for a while longer.”

“What? I thought you’d want us to start doing things together in public.”

“It can wait. Don’t get me wrong—I’m dying to be with you. But Ivy’s been your best friend since you were kids. It’s better to show allegiance to her than a guy you just met this year.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can wait. But she better get over it soon!” he said.

Brandon not only was a great boyfriend but a great friend, too.

For the rest of the day and evening my calls and texts to Ivy remained unanswered. I was wondering when Abby would tell her secret to Ivy, too, and be in the doghouse with me.