 
### Riley's Curse

By Christina Smith

Copyright ©2012 Christina Smith

Published by Christina Smith

Smashwords Edition

Cover art © by Stephanie Mooney. All rights reserved

For my husband Brad, and my son Josh, the two men in my life.

This is a prequel in The Moon's Glow Series. See what happens to Nate before he meets Megan.

If you enjoy this free book, pass it on to your friends and share your thoughts with a review!

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously

### Discover other exciting titles by Christina Smith:

### Fated Dreams (Book One in the Affinity Series)

### Delusions (Book Two in the Affinity Series)

### Riley's Secret, A Moon's Glow Novel #1

### Preface

The darkness holds many secrets, and in the forest, many dangers. I used to think of the forest as mysterious, and at night delightfully spooky. The tall oak and pine trees cast shadows the shapes of mystical creatures. The weeping willow emanates the illusion of secrets. What lies beyond its long low branches and what was it hiding?

The howls and moans from animals hidden in their burrows and dens, the hoot of the owl and the eerie caw of the crow. I once loved the forest at night. The romance of the unknown was exciting.

But now that I know, I yearn to return to the time when I was blissfully unaware. A time before I became part of the mystery. I long to go back to a time before that horrific night...

# Chapter One

### The Birthday Gift

June, 1894

The necklace was beautiful, I had to admit that. But would she think it too much? It was her seventeenth birthday. I had to splurge. The glass was cold against my forehead as I peered at the jewelry through the window of my father's general store. I was just passing by, with my friend Henry when it caught my eye.

"Nathaniel, are you coming?" Henry called, leaning against the wooden railing of the town's dress shop.

Lucy's birthday was tomorrow, and her family had invited me for dinner. I had been courting her for the last few weeks, and had every intention of asking for her hand when I was more established. I had known her since childhood. Her family lived in the home closest to ours and we had grown up teasing each other. It was only last year that I began to see her as more than the girl next door.

"Nathaniel!" Henry called, taking a few steps in my direction. I hesitated, unsure if I should purchase the necklace or go with my friend. He was in a hurry to get to the carnival. It was in town for a couple of days and he was hoping to meet a few girls there. I said I would join him when he asked.

"Can you wait a moment, Henry?" I asked, glancing again at the sparkling jewelry in the velvet box. "I won't be long. I've found the perfect gift for Lucy."

Henry's lip turned up in an amused grin. He knew how I felt about my fair haired neighbor. "Is it all right if I meet you there?" he asked. "You've found your girl. I'm still looking for mine." His eyes danced with mischief. He was my closest friend and spoke often of chasing girls.

I folded my arms in front of me. "Oh really? What about Ava? I thought she claimed you."

"Just keeping my options open." He turned and started down the street. "Besides, she's already there waiting for me."

I laughed to myself as I pushed the door open to our store. An array of smells accosted my senses. Since ours was a general store, we carried everything from spices, to figurines, and even garden tools. My father was leaning over the wooden counter reading a catalogue, and then writing his order on a slip of parchment. It was how we found most of our merchandise. Twenty percent was from townspeople that were talented enough to make interesting items. My father sold them for no extra charge. It was part of the reason he was so well liked. He looked up from the pages as I approached him. His smile was warm, matching the slight glint in his bright blue eyes. He was fair-haired, like my younger sisters and me. He was wearing brown trousers, white crisp shirt, and suspenders. "Hello Son," he said, folding the book closed, and pushing it aside. "I thought you were off to the carnival with Henry."

I placed my hands on the counter and nodded. "I was, but I noticed a necklace in the window as we were passing by. I still haven't found anything for Lucy."

"The dinner is tomorrow evening, is it not?" He asked, his voice held a hint of reprimand. I nodded again, feeling foolish for having waited so long, but I just hadn't yet found the right thing. Now, I believed I had. "Well, we just received a shipment this morning. Which necklace caught your eye?"

I pointed past him to the shelf in the window. "The green stone, with diamonds."

He reached into the window display and pulled out the item in question, holding it out to me. The diamonds sparkled brightly. However, it was the stone that had drawn my attention. "What is it?" I asked, touching the smooth gem.

My father leaned over me, his smell of pipe tobacco hovered in the air. "It's a gem stone called Chrysocolla. The diamonds are all clear, and the setting is silver." He touched the delicate rope design that framed the diamonds. The stone sat in the center.

"It's quite remarkable. I've never seen anything like it." I lifted my head to look up at him. "Where did you get it?"

His lips tipped upward. "From Mrs. Wallace. She says the gem stone is lucky. It will bring the owner happiness."

I was sold even before he spoke the words. "I'll take it."

"All right, I'll just take the amount from your earnings, and box it up. I'll bring it home with me." He put the velvet lid on the box. "Are you headed to meet Henry?"

"Yes sir." I stepped toward the door. "And thank you," I said, just as Mr. Tillman bustled up to the counter, carrying a rake. My father simply nodded to me, taking the tool from his customer to ring up his purchase.

I pushed through the door into the spring evening, enjoying the soft breeze as it touched my face. I couldn't wait to give Lucy the necklace. Anticipating her reaction put a spring in my step as I headed down the walk toward the fairway.

It wasn't until we were finished dinner the next evening that I had a chance to be alone with Lucy. We had spent the evening discussing my future plans, and listening to Mrs. Stewart list Lucy's accomplishments. She was learning the piano, and studying a variety of languages. She had finished school this year, but her mother wanted her to continue with a tutor, instead of going to college. Of course I knew this, Lucy was just a year younger than I, and we grew up together.

Finally, after dessert and wine, I excused myself. Lucy asked her father if she could walk me out.

"Thank you for coming, Nathaniel," she said softly as we stood on the veranda, a slight blush touched her cheeks. The June air stirred lightly, the hint of orange blossom wafted from the girl beside me.

"I was very happy that you invited me to celebrate with you." I reached into the pocket of my trousers and pulled out the velvet box. "Happy birthday, Lucy," I said, handing her the gift.

Her face was filled with surprise and delight when she took the box from me. "You didn't have to do this, Nathaniel."

I smiled, enjoying the look of happiness on her beautiful face. "I wanted to."

She opened the lid and gasped. "Oh, Nathaniel, it's stunning." Gazing at the necklace, her finger gently stroked the stone. Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes shining. "Thank you," she whispered, lifting the necklace out of it's wrapping to hold it up closer.

"Here, let me help you." As I took the delicate chain, our fingers touched, her skin was warm and soft. Brushing her silky locks off her shoulders, I fastened the necklace and stepped aside. "It looks lovely on you, Lucy." My voice was low, the image of her wearing my gift, made it difficult to speak. The moonlight shone, giving her and the necklace an exquisite glow. Unable to resist, I leaned down to gently brush my lips onto hers. She tasted of sweet wine. Her only reaction was a soft gasp, before responding to my touch.

When I pulled away, her face was flushed.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Lucy."

She bowed her head shyly. "Thank you for coming, and for the beautiful gift."

I felt light headed as I left her standing on the porch. It had been our first kiss, and I couldn't wait for the next.

After her birthday, I saw more of Lucy, at least once a day. Even though we were both busy, me with the farm, and her with her private lessons. There was always time to sneak away for a few moments. A week after the dinner party I met her at the river that bordered our two properties. "Lucile," I called to her softly, when I saw her sitting on the bank with her feet in the water. Her hose and shoes were tossed on the grass beside her.

She jumped at the sound of my voice. "Oh, Nathaniel, you gave me a fright."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her. Her fancy dress was caked with mud at the hem, and her golden hair had fallen loose from the bun on her head. But despite all of this, as soon as she looked at me with those bright sapphire eyes, she took my breath away.

"Why are you grinning? You have seen me with my feet in the river before."

"Yes, but not in some time. Have you forgotten that you are supposed to be a lady now?" I took a few steps closer and sat down on the bank beside her. Since I was wearing work clothes, having been doing chores on the farm, I was not worried about getting them dirty.

She waved away my comment. "I am tired of trying to be perfect all the time. Those new dresses mother has me wearing are too stuffy." This was the girl I knew, she had been trying hard to act the lady ever since she came out last year, but honestly, I preferred her this way. She seemed more approachable. Although her features were perfection, resembling a porcelain doll, her manner was altogether different. She could roughhouse as well as any boy, and liked an adventure as much as I did. She wasn't this proper lady that Mrs. Stewart wanted her to be, and I was ecstatic to see that Lucy realized this as well.

I gazed at her face and noticed a smudge of dirt on her nose. I leaned closer, to wipe it away. Her smile disappeared and her eyes became hooded. I heard her gasp just as I bent down to kiss her. It wasn't the first time since her birthday that we kissed. However, I relished each one. I kissed her longer, savoring her taste and scent, but when I had the urge to guide her down onto the grass, I pulled away. I was a gentleman and I had to remind myself of that. "I must go Lucy."

Her lips pouted at my words. "Must you?" She asked. Her voice held a hint of the longing I felt.

"Yes, meet me after dinner tomorrow evening, and we'll go for a stroll along the square."

She brightened, as she sat up straight. "That sounds lovely, Nathaniel."

I left her then, knowing that if I watched her dress, I would not be able to leave.

As I walked the short distance to my family's property, I couldn't help feel excitement, to see her again.

# Chapter Two

### Monster

The next evening, the air was warm, despite the slight chill brought on by the quick disappearance of the sun. It was dark, with the exception of the occasional flash of a lightning bug, and the bright glow of the moon. All I could focus on was the blood that dripped from the wolf's fangs, her blood.

Finished with the girl, it turned to me. It's growl was low and terrifying. It stared at me where I stood frozen with fear. The wolf's fur was reddish brown, and the body was nearly tall enough to look me in the eye.

Standing up on it's hind legs, it took a step toward me, and I realized this was no ordinary wolf.

I backed up slowly, afraid to make a sudden move.

Glancing down at Lucy's body lying on the ground beside it, I knew I was next. My only hope was that the end would come quickly.

The wolf continued in my direction, finally dropping down on all fours, preparing to chase.

Normally there were many sounds in the forest: crickets chirping, birds twittering, squirrels and moles scurrying through the brush. But right now, as the animal crouched down closer to the ground in order to stalk its prey, the only sound was the thump, thump, thump of my heart beating rapidly. It echoed loudly in my ears, and I was sure the wolf heard it too.

I couldn't help it, fear enveloped me, and I took off running as fast as I could, knowing it was not fast enough.

The moonlight helped guide me in the darkness as I rushed toward the road, praying someone would come along, causing the beast to run away. I felt him right on my heels, biting at the back of my leg. I stumbled. My hands flew out to stop my fall, and they dug into sharp rocks that were wedged into the rough ground. I knew they were bleeding, but I didn't have time to look at them before the wolf took the opportunity to pounce. I kicked it in the jaw with my boot. The beast fell back with a squeal. That's when I saw the road ahead. I gathered all the strength I could to reach it before the monster that was biting and growling behind me.

Just as my feet hit the dirt, I felt claws dig into my back, and I was shoved to the ground, my face smashed into the road. A sharp searing pain exploded in my nose, blood dripped down my face. The taste of copper filled my mouth.

When the wolf sat up on it's rear, preparing to feed, I took the chance to flip over. If I was going to die, I wanted to see it coming. His muzzle hovered above me. Glassy yellow eyes stared into mine, right before it let out a loud snarl, exposing long, pointed teeth. It's horrid breath smelled of death.

As the monster lowered his muzzle closer, I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the puffing of his breath, and drool dripping on my face--then nothing. I waited for the pain, for the end of my life, and for Lucy. But none of that came. When I heard the sound of horses galloping down the road, I opened my eyes, and the wolf was gone, scared off by the buggy that was now about to run over me. I couldn't get up. I was paralyzed with fear.

Once the buggy stopped, I heard footsteps running toward me. "Are you all right sir?" A deep voice asked.

He was bent down, hovering above me, his cap fell forward, covering his eyes, but I could tell that it was Mr. Morgan, Henry's father. "Nathaniel, are you okay? What happened?"

I tried to speak, but it was difficult, still winded from running, and shaken by what I had just seen. "It's Lucy," I gasped. "An animal...attacked her." The last few words felt like gravel in my mouth, I didn't want to voice them. "She's dead."

"You mean Lucile, Jonathan Stewart's daughter?" he asked, leaning down to help me sit up.

"Yes, we were out for a walk, when a wolf came out of the forest and attacked her. It was just about to kill me when you came down the road and scared it off."

His expression was a mix of terror, and grief. Events such as this never happened in our sleepy town. "Show me where she is. Come quickly before another animal comes after her."

I stood up, still feeling weak. Mr. Morgan held onto my arm as I led him through the meadow to Lucy's body or what was left of it.

He released my arm, and gasped at the sight before him. "Dear lord. What kind of animal would attack someone like this?" We stared down at her. She was lying among the clover and long grass. Her sapphire colored eyes were glassy and lifeless. The pale yellow hair I had once admired was now matted with blood, her body was mangled and unrecognizable. The necklace I had giving her just a week before, still hung around her neck.

Breath escaped his lips as he bent down to pick her up, it could have been another gasp or even a cry of grief. He remained still, his eyes closed with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Once he opened them, he stood up, and then headed back to his carriage without another word.

I followed slowly behind him, unable to look at Lucy's body in his arms. She was such a sweet, funny girl only an hour ago. Now, all that was left of her was this broken shell, flopping about in my friend's father's arms. I would trade places with her if I could. I didn't even hear the beast approach us. It was suddenly just there, and Lucy was dead.

Once we arrived at the Stewart's house with Lucy, Mr. Morgan told them the news. Her mother and sisters were crying loudly, while her father peppered me with questions I was too in shock to answer. Instead, I watched in silence as Mr. Stewart hounded Mr. Morgan, after his attempts to get answers out of me had failed.

There was a low sound in the corner. I glanced over to see Elizabeth, Lucy's four year old sister sitting on the floor playing with her doll. She was talking quietly to herself and moving the doll along the wooden floor, making it walk. She seemed to be in her own world. Her older sisters and mother stood beside her hugging, trying to sooth one another, but Lizzy never looked up. I thought she was too young to understand what was happening until I saw a shiny tear fall from the corner of her eye, sliding down her cheek. I turned away at the sight, the ache in my chest took my breath away, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me.

Finally, Mr. Morgan took me home. I went straight to my room, avoiding my parents. Once I was alone, I fell into bed without lighting my lantern. Although our house was well built, it wasn't sound proof, and again I had to relive the ordeal as Mr. Morgan told my story. Even my attempt to hide under the pillow did nothing to muffle the voices.

I just wanted to close my eyes and hope that when I opened them again, it would all be a dream. I would get up, and look out my window to see Lucy outside her house hanging clothes on the line with her house maid, just like every other Saturday.

I knew it was wrong to watch her, but she had such delicate features, and her pale blond hair always fell in wisps in front of her face. I loved watching her brush it back with a giggle. Since I had been in love with her for the last year, I always took a few moments every Saturday just to gaze at her.

Was it just yesterday that we had snuck a few kisses at the river? And now, she was gone.

# Chapter Three

### Confession

The morning sun shone through my window, waking me from my deep slumber. I had a deep nagging feeling that something was wrong, but I was so tired, I just wanted to go back to sleep.

Turning away from the sun's glare I nearly dozed off again, until Lucy's face crept into my mind reminding me of the horror that happened in the meadow. It all came flooding back. The beast, her death, listening to her family sobbing and begging for their daughter, and all the while, I wished for death.

I lifted the coverlets, exposing blood on my clothes, and bedding. I stood up, ripping the shirt off of me. The buttons popped, each one fell to the floor with a tick, tick, tick. I removed my trousers, tossing them in a clump in the corner of the room.

I pulled the items I needed out of my cupboard, and picked some linens and soap from the closet, sneaking out the back door to avoid my family's well-meaning queries. I wanted to go to the river to bathe instead of bothering Jane our house maid to fill the tub.

Once I reached the riverbank, I sat everything down and pulled off my underclothes. I dove into the water. The need to cleanse myself of that horrible night overwhelmed me. My hands were cut and smeared with dried blood. When I touched my nose, it was tender, and also caked with blood.

When all my injuries were taken care of, I scrubbed my body until my skin was raw. With every stroke of the cloth I saw the wolf's yellow eyes staring at me hungrily. The smell of lavender from the soap filled my sore nostrils, clearing the image from my mind.

The water was still a little chilly. It was early June and when my skin started to feel numb I decided to get out.

After I dried off, dressed and went back inside, one thought filled my mind. To get rid of every single reminder of the event that I knew would forever change my life. I gathered my bloody clothes from the floor of my bedroom, and rushed into the kitchen. I hoped that if I burned all of the evidence of last night, I would clear the guilt that was beginning to eat away at me. My mother was helping Jane clean up after breakfast, she saw me, and smiled sadly. "Good morning Son. Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

I simply shook my head, and opened the heavy iron door of the cook stove. Heat rushed out, warming my skin instantly, the fire leaped with the sudden wash of air. I tossed the clothes inside and watched them burn. The angry flames enveloped the shirt and trousers. I stayed until they turned to ash. Smoke billowed out of the stove making my mother cough. I closed the door, but watched through the window. Through the flame's, all I saw was Lucy's lifeless face, making my heart ache at the sight. Why couldn't it have been me that died?

I was so entranced with the vision, I vaguely noticed my sisters rush into the room or the tug on my arm when Mary tried to get my attention. I couldn't look away. I should feel better now that the clothes were gone, but I didn't. All I felt was guilt, so strong it ripped through my chest like a knife.

Unable to shake off my dark mood, I went outside to the woodpile to work off my frustrations with an axe. Physical activity usually cleared my mind, although I knew it wouldn't work today. I was right, the events of last night constantly flowed through my mind. I tried to think of ways I could have changed the outcome, but the problem was, how could I have saved her, when I hadn't seen or heard the danger? The wolf was silent, even when it took her life. It was my fault of course, if I hadn't have been rattling on about college, I might have heard the wolf and scared it away. Even as the thought appeared, I shook it off. I knew that the wolf that stared down at me would not have been frightened by anything.

The sun was hot with only a light breeze to cool me down. The smell of wood and honeysuckle filled the air.

I pulled down my suspenders, and undid my shirt when I started to sweat from the heat. As I picked up a large piece of oak and placed it down on the tree trunk I was using as a base, I heard footsteps coming toward me. I lifted my arms, plunging the axe into the wood. After it split in two, I bent down to pick up the pieces that fell to the ground.

"Are you ever going to talk to your mother or me?" I heard my father ask. I could see him from the corner of my eye. I didn't answer him, still unable to speak. The images of last night would not leave my mind.

"It might help to get it off your chest, instead of using up all your energy with that axe. You've been at it for hours without a break."

As he spoke, I split another piece, and then tossed them onto the pile.

He leaned against the fence waiting for a response. I didn't give him one. "Well, we're here if you need us," he said as he walked away. My father was a very patient man and knew that I would come to him when I was ready. But what could I say to him? There was nothing he or anyone could do to bring Lucy back, and that was the only thing that would help me.

I continued to cut wood for a while longer without any interruptions, although I did see Mary, my youngest sister leaning on the wooden fence nearby watching me. She had always looked up to me, even now when I proved not to deserve her adoration. I failed to save Lucy. How could she look at me with anything but disgust?

When I could no longer lift my arms, and was about to parish from thirst, I headed over to the well to pump water into my hands, sipping the cold liquid from them.

After quenching my thirst, I sat on the edge of the river where I had last met Lucy, to watch the fish swim around. They bobbed their heads, nibbling at the bugs on the water's surface. This was the spot I liked to come to think when something was bothering me. But until today I had no idea how enormous my troubles could be. It was a beautifully warm day. The slight breeze blew the branches of the trees above me, creating a soothing, rustling sound. The birds chirped from a nest in the maple tree that towered above. It was a lovely day, and I could almost forget what happened only hours before. Until Lucy's image appeared before me, with her feet resting in the water just as they had two days before. Her laughter echoed in the air, mixing with the rustling branches. When I blinked at her, the image disappeared, and the pain in my chest returned tenfold.

"Excuse me, Nathaniel?"

I jumped at the sound of my name. I was lost in the memory and didn't hear anyone approach. Lucy's mother, Mrs. Stewart stood behind me, next to a tall willow. She was wearing a long black dress, and a wide brimmed black hat that covered most of her pale hair. She was holding a familiar velvet box. Just the sight of Lucy's birthday gift, filled me with dread. I took it from her, stuffing it into my pocket, knowing without looking, what was in it.

"I thought you might want this back," she murmured, unable to look into my eyes.

I simply nodded, hoping to forget that it was in my pocket. I could hide it somewhere later, so I wouldn't have to be reminded of the night not so long ago when I had given it to her.

She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, "Nathaniel," she said again, this time, with more meaning.

"Yes?" I asked, wishing I had chosen a spot to hide where no one would be able to find me.

"I know that you are upset, and you do not wish to speak of what happened... however, Mr. Stewart and I really need to know. We realize that a wolf killed her. We just want to know what led up to it. We do not understand why it would come after you both in the first place. There are plenty of animals in the forest."

She was barely holding in the tears, and perhaps I could have denied her had I not seen them. I could not refuse a female of anything when they wept, a fact my sisters took full advantage of.

I hesitated for only a moment before slowly standing in front of the woman I had someday wished to be family. I saw how much she was suffering, and I knew I had no choice. I nodded slowly, and then followed her into the house with my shoulders slumped with apprehension.

Once inside, she led me into our parlor.

The room was full of people. My parents were sitting on the settee near the window. Mr. Stewart occupied the one by the entryway. The Sheriff was standing by the woodstove, and our Minister sat in the chair by the corner. My mother's antique spoon collection hung right above his head. The slightest movement could knock them down onto his lap.

My mother gestured for me to take a seat in the chair they had placed in the center of the room. Mrs. Stewart joined her husband, grasping his hand for support.

I felt as though I was on trial as I sat down where my mother instructed. All eyes were on me.

"We all know that you've been through a terrible experience, Son. But we have some questions that need to be answered, and if we could avoid bringing up these awful memories, we would. Since you're the only witness, we cannot," my father said, leaning forward in his seat.

Sheriff O'Neil stepped up to me, and placed his hand on my shoulder, it felt cold through my work shirt. "Just tell us in your own words what happened," he said, and then stepped back to his spot leaning against the wall.

I sat silently gathering my thoughts, but only one popped in my head, Lucy's lifeless eyes. I flinch at the memory and gazed down at the brightly colored Oriental rug, while everyone stared at me in anticipation. It was so quiet that the ticking of our grandfather clock echoed through the house. I could hear the wind whistling outside, and my sister's distant laughter. I listened to hear if the neighbor's dog was out, and sure enough, I heard a soft bark come from the back fields. The parlor was crowded, but still smelled of my mother's perfume, and candle wax.

My father shifted in his seat and coughed, letting me know without words that I had prolonged my explanation long enough.

Still focused on the rug, I tired to wipe the image of Lucy from my mind. I cleared my throat and began. "I called on Lucy just after the dinner hour. We decided that since it was such a lovely evening we would go for a walk in the town square. We were deep in conversation, and didn't realize that we had wandered off the path. Before we knew it, we were in the meadow behind the park. We had turned around, knowing that it was not proper." I glanced at her father apologetically, when he simply nodded, I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat and continued.

"We must have been walking for some time, because it started to get very dark. We were lucky there was a full moon out or we wouldn't have been able to see a thing. Lucy had asked me if I was ever going to take those business courses I had talked about. I answered the question, telling her that I was planning to start at the college over in Macon City in the fall." I paused to swallow again, my throat was suddenly dry. "I asked what her plans were, but she didn't answer. I turned my head to look at her, and saw her lying on the ground with a very large wolf leaning over her. I didn't even hear it approach us. I stared at them, shocked at what I was seeing." I gulped in air, wishing I didn't have to speak the next words. "She was already dead." There were a few murmurs, but no one spoke, they were waiting for me to finish my tale.

My heart began to race. "The wolf looked up at me, and I swear it smiled. It started to stalk me slowly. I backed up, afraid to make a sudden move. But I couldn't take it, the fear took over and I sped off running."

"It was right on my heels, and at one point it took a bite out of the back of my leg. I ran to the road and I was certain that I had escaped, but it knocked me down and was just about to kill me when Mr. Morgan came, and scared it away. I'm sure that if he hadn't been there, I would be dead, just like Lucy." My voice was beginning to shake, I stood up fighting tears. I had never broken down in front of anyone, and I did not intend to start now. "And I wish I was," I cried, my voice cracking, the pain in my chest was stronger than ever. I rushed out the door, but on my way, I noticed that every face in the room was frozen.

# Chapter Four

### The Funeral

"I knew I'd find you here." My mother said as I thrust the axe into the wood sending splinters flying. After my admission, I wanted to flee. But there was no where to go to escape what had happened. So instead, I found myself back at the woodpile, where I could take my mind off the memories for awhile. Although it didn't work, the horrific images followed me.

"You always release your anger this way. Ever since your father taught you to split, we've had plenty of wood for our winters." She stepped up behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Stop Son, and look at me."

I dropped the axe, and turned around to stare into her hazel eyes. Her honey brown hair was pulled up, but the loose strands were blowing in the wind. She pushed them out of her face as she gazed into my eyes with pure love and understanding.

"It's not your fault," she whispered. That's all she said, and suddenly I was in her arms sobbing like an infant. The guilt was like lead in my chest, it was smothering me. With her words, a fraction of the shame lifted. Even though I knew what she said wasn't true, it helped to hear someone say it out loud. "It's okay Son, let it out," she soothed, rubbing her hand gently on the back of my head. We stayed that way for a few minutes while I wept. When the tears finally dried up, I pulled away.

"Thank you, Mother. However, I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself." I rubbed all the evidence out of my eyes.

She laughed. "Of course, I won't tell anybody. It is just like you to hide your emotions. You know, you're not less of a man if you weep."

I laughed without humor as I bent down to pick up the axe. "Tell that to Father."

"Well, you have a perfectly good reason to be upset. You have never experienced death before, and for it to happen right in front of you in such an awful way. I can't imagine what you must be going through." She paused, eyeing me with concern. "You said the wolf bit you. How is your leg?"

The image of the wolf's hungry yellow eyes flashed into my mind, and I flinched. "It's fine. I washed it in the river. It was clean and no longer bleeding."

"Are you sure? Because I can look at it," she persisted.

"No. Mother, its fine," I repeated, my voice was harsher than I had intended.

"All right, but just remember, I'm here if you need me for anything." She touched my cheek gently before walking around to the front of the house. I heard my sister's laughter, and felt a little cheered by the sound.

After she left, I sat down on the grass, scraping my leg against a piece of wood. I was expecting to feel pain because of the wound, but when I looked, there was only dried blood and a scar. It was obvious this was where the wolf had bitten me, but all that remained was a crescent sized mark the shape of its mouth. It looked like it had happened weeks ago, not a day. I touched my nose where I had smashed it when I hit the ground, and again there was no pain. It felt normal, as if last night never happened.

That night in bed I dreamed I was running through the woods. I was free and one with nature. I had never run so fast. It felt like I was soaring through the air.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of my sisters playing outside my bedroom door. I sat up and looked down at my feet. They were covered in dry mud, which was odd, since they were clean when I went to bed. I rushed to my bureau where there was fresh water in a basin, and wiped away the evidence of my madness. Had I wandered around outside in my sleep? That had never happened before. With everything that was happening, the last thing I needed was another worry, so instead, I shook off this strange new development. I reached into my cupboard to retrieve my clothes so I could dress, and get ready for a day that I was not looking forward to.

I noticed Mrs. Wallace in the back of the church on Sunday morning. The small chapel was almost filled with people, smelling of candle wax and sweat. I excused myself from my family, and approached her. She was alone. Her husband died of small pox five years ago, and her daughter had married and moved shortly afterwards. She was an eccentric woman that some townspeople feared, even whispering the word "witch" when she was too far away to hear. But my parents enjoyed her company. She was nice, and liked to make sweets, and that was all that mattered to me. Today however, I had something more serious than baked goods on my mind.

"Mrs. Wallace?" I said, taking the seat on the pew next to her. She turned to face me, her chocolate colored eyes were full of concern, as she regarded me. She placed her hand on my leg in an offer of comfort. "Hello Nathaniel, how are you doing?" Her voice was soft and soothing. I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting a repeat of yesterday's break down.

"Can I ask you about the necklace you made?"

Her dark brow lifted. "Which one?"

"The one with a blue-green stone with diamonds." She nodded in understanding. "I purchased it as a gift for Lucy. She was wearing it the night she was attacked. My father said it was lucky and that it would bring the owner happiness."

Her lips pressed together, and she squeezed my leg. "Oh Nathaniel. You are the owner of the necklace. You paid for it, it will bring you happiness." If this was true, it made no sense. It obviously hadn't brought me anything but misery.

My stomach twisted, remembering the last night Lucy had worn the thing. "I... I don't understand. It didn't work. Lucy died."

"Oh, dear, give it some time, it will. Lucy wasn't the one that will make you happy."

"Who then?"

She paused, watching as the Bennett family took their place in the pew in front of us. "I do not know. But you will when you find her. Just hold on to that necklace, and let it do its job. She wasn't meant for you, but some day you will see the necklace in the hands of the girl who is." She lifted her hand away and wiped a stray hair that had fallen from her bonnet. "It will happen."

The Minister stood in front of his pulpit, and our conversation was over.

I walked away from her heading toward my family, feeling more confused than before.

After the service, we all gathered for Lucy's funeral. I hated standing amongst my neighbors. Most of the mourners stared at me instead of listening to the sermon. I didn't blame them of course. This was the worst thing that had ever happened in our small town of Creekford. Even though we were part of New York State, we couldn't be further from the big cities. I had never known anyone that was killed before. I only wished it wasn't happening now.

After Lucy's parents threw flowers onto her casket, they walked over to me. Her mother gave me a hug while her father shook my hand. It was a gesture that was meant for comfort, but I didn't want that. I blamed myself, and part of me wanted the same from her parents.

As much as I hated to cry, I felt tears flowing down my cheeks. I turned my head so no one would notice, and saw a woman in the distance.

She was standing next to a tombstone near the edge of the graveyard, staring at me. I could physically feel her penetrating gaze. She wore a wide brimmed hat, with tendrils of red hair billowing out from under it. Her light blue dress blew in the wind. I felt a chill that came from more then just the air.

I turned back to see the men covering Lucy; the beautiful, sweet girl that was once so full of life, with dirt. I couldn't take it, I had to leave. I nodded at my mother, and walked away, heading through the forest for home.

It was a long walk, but it helped. I had to get the image of Lucy in a coffin and thrown into a hole, out of my head. Lately my thoughts were filled with morbid pictures, Lucy's dead eyes, her in a coffin, or the hungry eyes of the wolf. The constant flash of the images were torture to my soul.

I took deep breaths, and lifted my head, letting the sun soak into my skin. The smell of the grass, leaves, and fresh air relaxed me a tiny bit and for a moment my mind cleared.

The feeling was interrupted as the hairs on my body stood on end. I felt a presence in the woods watching me. I glanced in the trees, and thought I saw the yellow glow of two eyes staring out from behind some bushes. I blinked, convinced that my mind was playing tricks on me. When I looked again they were gone.

That was enough to rattle me though, I took off running. At first I ran out of panic, but soon began to enjoy myself. It felt exhilarating. I was running faster than I ever had, faster than I thought I could. The wind through my hair, the complete control and speed made me feel better then I had in days. It helped me forget for a time.

I came up to our yard and stopped in front of the house, surprised that I was not winded. Our house, a large, white two story colonial, looked quiet and empty. My parents must have stopped to visit a neighbor.

I decided to lounge on the front porch and enjoy the weather; the swing creaked under my weight as I sat down. I watched the wind blow through the trees, noticing that the colors and textures seemed more vivid than I remembered. I was twenty feet from the nearest tree, and yet I could make out the veins on the maple leaves. I must be losing my mind. I closed my eyes afraid of what else I would notice.

A few minutes later, the sound of horses coming down our lane had me opening my eyes. My parents and sisters had arrived in our horse and buggy. "Whoa," my father said, stopping the horses in front of the house. Mary and Rose jumped out, disappearing into the backyard, their squeals of laughter following them.

"Nathaniel, did you get a ride home with someone?" my mother asked as she stepped out of the buggy, her yellow dress ballooned around her.

"No Mother, I ran home. I started walking, but something in the woods spooked me, so I ran the rest of the way."

"I could see how the woods might frighten you after what you've been through-- wait. Did you just say you ran home?" she asked me, looking very confused as she climbed the few steps up to the porch, taking the seat beside me.

"Yes, why?" I was puzzled by the shock on her face.

She exchanged a worried glance with my father who was stepping up onto the porch.

"Nathaniel, how is that possible? We left right after you did. Are you suggesting you ran faster than the horses?" he asked with concern, shoving his hands into the pockets of his good Sunday trousers.

I could see that they didn't believe me. I had to admit it was strange. I knew I was running fast, but there was no way I could outrun a horse.

"Of course not, I took the shortcut," I lied, suddenly feeling a sense of dread.

They smiled and nodded as if my explanation made perfect sense, although we all knew that there was no shortcut. Even so, they accepted my fib because it was easier than dealing with the fact that I was lying, or there was something very wrong with me.

# Chapter Five

### Abilities

A few days later, I was outside repairing a hole in the fence. It was a workday so my father was at the general store, the business we owned in town.

During the week it was my responsibility to take care of the farm. I had finished school two years before. Instead of going to College, I stayed at home to help my father. This saved him money so he didn't have to hire anyone. He was putting my earnings away for me to go to school in the fall.

"Mary no!" I heard my middle sister Rose yell just as I lifted the hammer, about to pound a nail into the wooden post. I froze; the forgotten nail tumbled to the ground, disappearing in the long grass. When I looked up, I saw my six year old sister climbing up the ladder that I had left out. She was just stepping off the last rung preparing to climb on top of the barn roof. As Rose yelled, Mary looked down at her, and lost her footing. She was going to fall.

I dropped the hammer, and rushed over just as she fell, catching her just in time. Umph! Air whooshed out of me as her weight dropped onto my arms.

"Am I dead?" she asked, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. Her tiny fingers gripped my work shirt.

I laughed. Thank the lord, she was okay. I hugged her close, extremely relieved. She smelled of plum pudding and garden soil. "No, you are not dead, but you should know better then to climb up onto the roof."

"Nathaniel!" Rose yelled with a trace of panic in her voice.

I turned around to see her rushing toward me, shock clouding her face. Her long wheat colored hair hung in braids. Her bonnet was falling down off her head onto her shoulders as she rushed toward us.

"Yes?" I asked, setting Mary down on her feet, who stared up at Rose waiting for her answer.

"How did you get to her so fast?" She glanced anxiously from Mary to me, a look of complete bafflement covering her face. I understood why she was concerned. I didn't even realize until then that I had run thirty feet in a few seconds. "Uh...I was working on the barn door when I heard you yell at her," I lied, something that was becoming a habit for me. She accepted my falsehood, just as my parents had last week, only because not to, was too strange to comprehend.

Mary giggled, pulling Rose away toward the garden where she had been playing earlier in the day.

I was glad to see them go. I knew something was wrong with me, but I wanted to keep it to myself as long as possible.

The unexplainable behavior did not go away. Over the next couple of weeks I noticed I had acquired some very bizarre abilities.

One day, as I was repairing the barn roof, I lost my balance, and fell to the ground, landing on my feet. Thankfully no one was around to see. It was getting harder to hide my new found skills. The dishonesty to my family was beginning to weigh on me.

I could hear animals rustling in the woods, miles away. I could also smell them approach, even identify the species by their scent.

The most disturbing change was my bizarre new cravings. The food my mother prepared was not satisfying me. I finally realized what the problem was. She was cooking the meat, and I craved it raw. One day the craving was so strong I found myself about to gobble down the uncooked beef my mother had left in the ice box. I stopped myself just in time. I didn't understand why all of this was happening to me, and more than ever, I just wanted to go back to the life I had weeks ago.

Almost a month had passed since Lucy's death and I was starting to forget important details about her, the exact color of her hair, or the sound of her laughter. I hated myself for this. Since I was to blame for her death, I should remember every detail about her. Although I was losing memories of her alive, I couldn't forget her death. I remembered in vivid detail the night she died. Her lifeless face was seared in my brain. It was there every night before I went to sleep, and every morning when I woke.

One Saturday, I was working for my father at the store. He had gone to Macon City for supplies.

There were a few customers wandering through the aisles browsing. I was stacking boxes of food on a shelf when I sensed someone standing at the end of the aisle watching me. This was another new ability I seemed to be blessed with.

"Hi Nathaniel, how are you doing?" I turned my head to see Eva, Lucy's best friend standing beside me.

"I'm doing okay Eva. How are you?" I stepped down from the ladder I was using.

She took a deep breath to suppress her tears. "I really miss her, but it's getting easier with time."

I nodded in agreement. I understood what she meant. I just did not want it to get easier for me.

"A few friends are getting together tonight for a bonfire near the beach. Henry told me to ask you to come. He would have done it himself, but he's stuck at the lumber yard."

The idea of an evening with friends, sitting around a fire doing nothing but laughing, and joking sounded ideal, if not strange. It felt like an eternity ago that I had done anything like it. For the last few weeks, my mind has focused on death and worries about my new condition. Was I even capable of still having fun? "Sure Eva, I'll be there. I'll meet everyone at the beach after supper."

She smiled. "Good, you need some fun in your life. You have to stop punishing yourself for what happened."

I gave her a puzzled look.

"My mother and your mother are friends remember?"

"That's right, but that is something I do not wish to discuss." I glanced over at the register and saw Mrs. Grayson waiting impatiently.

"Sorry Eva, I have to go. I'll see you tonight."

She said goodbye and left the store without purchasing anything.

I hurried to the front counter. "Sorry for the wait Mrs. Grayson," I said, ringing up her items. She scowled at me, and except for a few exasperated sighs, made no reply. Mrs. Grayson wasn't known for her charming personality. The navy blue dress she wore was practical and severe, and her hair as always, was pulled tightly in a bun. She never smiled; her face always seemed hard and cold. Not an easy woman to talk to.

I handed the packages to her and after she paid, she left the store without speaking a single word.

The bell over the door signaled a new customer. I glanced up from the counter I was wiping and stared at the woman I saw at Lucy's funeral a month ago.

She was older then my eighteen years, maybe twenty or so. She carried herself well, with long curly red hair that was swooped up loosely and hidden under a large white hat. Her grey eyes pierced through me as she stared, not once looking away. She was wearing a long pink lace gown and carrying a closed parasol in her hand.

She approached me slowly, stopping on the other side of the counter. I could smell an odd scent coming from her. It wafted powerfully through my nostrils and all the hairs on my body stood on end. There was something about her that brought the chill I felt at the funeral back. The sudden urge to run was overwhelming.

"Nathaniel Riley?" she asked in an accent I wasn't familiar with.

"Yes," I replied, uneasiness began to spread through me.

"My name is Charlotte Burns. I am staying at the boarding house. I've been here visiting some friends and I'm leaving tomorrow. I thought I would come and introduce myself to you." Her smile was all teeth, predatory, was what came to mind

There was something about this beautiful woman that I did not trust. I just didn't understand why I felt this way. "Why would you introduce yourself to me?"

"Well, you and I have a special bond after all," she said, placing her parasol on the counter.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean."

"I did create you after all. So we are bonded forever."

A sudden dread thudded in the pit of my stomach. Even though I didn't know what she meant, a part of me, deep inside, was afraid to ask the next question. "What do you mean?" I whispered.

Charlotte glanced around the store and seeing that it was empty, sauntered over to the door, turning the open sign to closed.

She walked back, and once again stood in front of me, placing her gloved hands on the wooden counter. "You are a very handsome young man. I could not have chosen better even if I had planned it. You see, it was a mistake." There was a cool glint in her eye, along with a coy grin. She was playing with me, I just couldn't comprehend why.

"What was a mistake?" I asked reluctantly.

"Creating you of course," she said with a soft chuckle. She looked around the store and wandered over to a shelf where our figurines were laid out. She picked up a carved wooden wolf glancing carelessly at it before setting it back onto the shelf. "So tell me, are you feeling different lately? Any new abilities you can't explain?"

Since I had not told anyone what was happening to me, --not even my family-- I was suddenly very wary of the conversation and didn't want to continue. I chose not to answer her afraid of what she would say.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said with a smirk. "Don't you want me to tell you how I know about your changes?" She continued to wander around the store picking items up and glancing at them, then returning them to their proper place. "I am sorry about your girlfriend though. I was so hungry, and humans are such easy prey." She turned around to face me grinning widely.

"Wh... What did you just say?" I asked terrified now, looking around for a weapon.

"I said I'm sorry about your girl. I will say one thing about her, she tasted so good." She stalked slowly toward me again, her movements almost animalistic. "Although not as good as you, and all I had was one little bite before you ran off," she pouted.

As I stared at her, frozen with fear, she gazed into my eyes. Her piercing grey ones held mine, and I watched as they turned color, from grey, to yellow. The eyes of a wolf.

I was startled, falling back into the shelf behind me; boxes fell to the floor with a clatter. I ran to the door, but she got there first, blocking my path. "Don't worry I'm not going to hurt you." Her voice was sticky sweet. "I just came to explain those changes you have been going through, and the big one that will happen tonight. It's going to be a full moon you know."

"What are you saying?" I whispered, afraid of the answer.

"Oh you poor thing, I'm sure you already know what I mean. But I guess I have to spell it out for you." She gave an exasperated sigh, and then grinned. "It was not a wolf that attacked you that night. It was me. I am a werewolf. You can smell my scent, can't you? You know that I am different from humans. I bit your leg. My saliva entered your bloodstream and triggered the change. So now, you are a werewolf too, and once a month when the full moon's glow touches your skin, you will change into a wolf. And guess how long it's been since your friend died?"

I stayed silent, unable to utter a word.

"Oh, you don't want to guess. Fine, you're no fun," she pouted. "It's been one month. Tonight you will change for the first time."

"No," I said with my teeth clenched. "I don't want to be like you. I don't want to be a killer." I closed my hands tightly into fists at my sides. For the first time in my life, I had the urge to hit a woman.

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice. I didn't mean to change you, my intent was to kill. Isn't this better than dying?"

"No. I'd rather die."

"Well it's not that easy now. We heal very quickly. But, don't worry, it won't be so bad. You get to stay this young and handsome forever." She leaned into me, my body stiffened as she kissed my lips softly. I pulled back, repulsed. Her scent was overpowering when she leaned this close.

"I haven't had a playmate in a while. We could travel together, be true companions. We will have so much fun, you and I," she said gently caressing my cheek with her finger.

I pulled my face away. "Don't touch me. You killed Lucy and tried to kill me. I don't want anything to do with you."

"You think you can handle the changes that are coming by yourself? Believe me you can't. You need me. Meet me in the woods in front of your house tonight at seven o'clock and I'll help you through your first change."

"I do not want to change."

She rolled her eyes as though I was a petulant child, misbehaving, instead of someone on the verge of becoming a monster. "It's not something you can turn off. You are a werewolf now and there is nothing you can do to change that. You just have to accept it."

There was a loud knock on the door behind me. I turned to see my father standing outside, his arms full of boxes. I opened the door for him.

"Why do you have the closed sign up?" he asked glancing at me. "Nathaniel, what's wrong? You're as white as a ghost." He placed the boxes down on the floor, and as he stood up, he noticed Charlotte. "Oh excuse me Miss I didn't see you there. Nathaniel, who is this?"

"Father, this is Charlotte Burns, and she was just leaving." I took her arm, leading her to the door.

"It was so nice to meet you Mr. Riley," Charlotte purred as she curtsied. When she was out of my father's sight, she turned to me again. "Seven o'clock," she said and then sauntered away.

"Who was that?" my father asked me.

"No one. I'm not feeling well. I wish to go home and lay down, if that's all right."

"Of course. If you're not feeling well, go home and get some rest."

# Chapter Six

### Transformation

On the long walk home I contemplated what Charlotte had told me. I was now a werewolf. If it was true, it would explain everything I have been going through. But she must be mad. There was no such thing as werewolves, other than fables told around a campfire in order to put fear in peoples' hearts. However, if they were only a myth, what had killed Lucy then? It was obvious at the time that it was more than just a wolf. But now as I recall that evening, my mind must have been playing tricks on me, and Charlotte was delusional.

It was a nice warm day and the breeze felt cool against my hot skin. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts I hadn't noticed that I was sweating, even though the breeze was cool. My skin felt burning hot and I was sweating profusely. A sharp pain in my stomach made me run the rest of the way home so I could get there quickly and lay down.

I arrived home just after noon. The house was empty. My mother was hanging clothes out on the line with Jane, and the girls were playing in the yard.

I stumbled into my room and fell onto my bed, doubling over in pain. My stomach felt like something was clawing at it from the inside. I removed my clothes and threw them onto the floor.

Hopefully after some rest, I would feel normal again. Except when I tried to sleep, I couldn't, the pain was so excruciating that sleep would not come. I tossed and turned for a long time, until the throbbing ache subsided enough for me to finally drift off.

I woke some time later in a pool of sweat.

Looking at my pocket watch that had fallen to the floor, I saw that it was six o'clock. Which meant I had slept for five hours.

Even though my body ached all over, I managed to slowly stand up and take the few painful steps over to the mirror on the wall.

I jumped back, terrified at my reflection. It was still me looking back. My sand colored hair was messy from sleeping. Dark circles under my eyes made my skin appear pale and sickly, and my face glistened with sweat. But all of this was not my concern. My eyes, normally a dark blue, were now yellow-- the eyes of a wolf.

I rubbed them roughly hoping to clear them, but when I gazed back at my reflection, nothing had changed.

"Nathaniel, are you finally up? You slept so long I thought you might be dead." I heard my mother yell from the other side of the door. The doorknob turned as she started to open it. I rushed over and held it closed. "Don't come in Mother, I'm not dressed. I'll be out in a minute."

Still, she pushed on the door. "Nathaniel, I've seen you in your underclothes before. I just want to see if you're okay. When I was in here earlier you looked flushed and feverish. I want to check your temperature."

"I'm fine Mother." I continued to hold the door until she finally gave up and walked away. I went back over to the mirror and to my relief my eyes were back to their normal blue. What was happening to me?

I sat down on the bed, dazed. It was true, I was a werewolf. I could no longer deny it.

The pain in my stomach returned, but now it was worse. My skin was literally crawling. Glancing down at my arms, I could see tiny hairs growing. I panicked. I didn't want my family to see me change, so I dressed quickly in the now wrinkled grey trousers, and an equally wrinkled white shirt that I had tossed on the floor, and rushed outside.

It was still early for my meeting with Charlotte so I ran as far away from my home as possible. I didn't want her anywhere near my family. I leaned against a pine tree and slid to the ground to wait for her. As I was hugging my knees, listening to the sounds of the forest, I heard a branch snap behind me.

Charlotte strolled over and stood in front of me. "Well, you don't look so good after all. So much for handling it on your own," she said smiling, obviously enjoying my agony.

"Just kill me," I growled with my head hanging in my hands. The pain was so excruciating, I could barely get the words out.

Charlotte knelt down in front of me onto a pile of pine needles. "I told you, it's not easy to die after you've been bitten, you heal very quickly. And besides, now that I have you, I'm not willing to give you up."

She sat down beside me, and held my hand. I would have shaken it off if I had the strength. "It will be over soon. When the sun goes down and the moon's glow touches us, we will both turn. It will not be as bad the next time, I promise." She almost sounded sweet, holding my hand and trying to make it easier for me. Then I remembered it was her fault I was in this predicament.

I stayed silent. Trying to speak was too painful. Every inch of my body was burning with pain. I was sweating profusely, and the hair continued to grow all over my skin.

We sat together on the ground waiting for the sun to go down. Charlotte prattled on about her life in the late seventeen hundreds when she was turned, but I barely listened. Until she spoke her last words. "I did enjoy watching you from the bushes the day you buried your girl. Did I scare you?"

The memory of that day came back to me. "That was you in the woods?" I managed to gasp through the pain. When she nodded, I asked, "Were you in wolf form?"

She tipped her head, her eyes twinkled with laughter. "Yes, why?"

Her answer shocked me. "I th...thought...you could only change once... a month." I couldn't manage another word, I almost collapsed with exhaustion.

She sighed, shaking her head. "My handsome young wolf has so much to learn." She patted my head and I cringed at her touch. "You're right, you will change once a month, no one can escape the pull of the full moon. But if you wish, you can turn on other days. I will teach you. The more you turn, the less painful it is to change."

Who would want to be a wolf more than they had to be?

As she was speaking the sun began to go down, and I started to panic. On one hand the pain was so strong I hoped the moon would come out soon to end my agony. On the other, I feared the unknown. I would turn into a wolf, a monster. Would I want to kill like Charlotte?

The sun finally went down. The only light was the full moon shining bright above us. Charlotte stood up, and started to undress, I averted my eyes. A gentleman never degraded a lady by gawking at her. My father had always taught me to be respectful toward women--no matter who she was.

"It's okay, you can look. If we're to travel together, you're going to see my body quite often." She folded her dress and corset neatly, laying them on top of a tree stump.

"I... am... not... going to...travel with you," I panted, breathlessly, gritting my teeth.

"You'd better get undressed, or you'll rip your clothes."

"I can... barely move," I moaned, after a failed attempt at unbuttoning my shirt.

"Yes of course, I'll help you then. Don't worry I'll close my eyes," she said with a wide grin and a laugh, clearly amused by my suffering. She bent down and pulled off my pants. The shirt and underclothes were next. I felt bashful sitting in front of her naked.

"Ughhh..." I doubled over onto all fours, barely noticing the pine needles and thorns' that dug into my palms. The pain was excruciating. My limbs snapped and bent. I screamed out in agony.

Charlotte leaned over me. "It's okay, don't fight it. It hurts less if you relax." She rubbed my back to soothe me, and once again I was confused by her kindness.

I looked down at my arms. They no longer looked human, covered in fur. My hands morphed into claws, and I could feel my teeth changing and sharpening. And then it all happened quickly, every inch of my human body was now a wolf. I tried to speak but it came out in a growl. I felt weak and out of breath, my body suddenly exhausted after what it had gone through. But thankfully the pain had dissipated.

I glanced over and saw Charlotte in the midst of her transformation, I turned away. It was very disturbing to watch.

My hearing was heightened. I could hear animals scurrying around and despite my fatigue I had the strongest urge to chase them. It took all I had, to stay where I was, and wait for Charlotte to finish changing.

When she was fully turned, she stood in front of me and grinned. Her coat was a reddish brown color. I looked down and saw that mine was the color of sand. Apparently a werewolf's fur reflected their human counterpart's hair color.

She nudged me playfully with her muzzle and then suddenly took off running. I stayed where I was, feeling very strange. She turned her head and halted when she saw that I hadn't moved. She trotted back to me and huffed, nodding her head in the direction where she had run. She wanted me to follow her, but just because we were now the same species, didn't change what she did. I was now like her, but I didn't feel any different. I had no urge to kill.

I shook my head.

She rolled her eyes then moved behind me, shoving me from behind, trying to get me to go. But I stood my ground. I felt a sharp pain as her teeth chomped down on my left hind leg.

I swiveled around and growled at her fiercely. She smiled again and took off running. This time I followed.

At first I felt awkward, almost stumbling a few times, not used to running on four legs. Then I relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of pure joy, the feeling of just running on instinct, leaping over logs, brush, and fallen branches. I felt as though I was soaring through the air.

I caught up to her and ran by her side, then feeling the power in my legs, I pushed harder. She growled behind me, and I felt her teeth in my leg again. Apparently she didn't like the fact that I was faster than she was. She made a huffing sound that sounded like a laugh as I yelped and fell back.

We ran for miles, finally stopping by a stream to take a drink. I lay down beside the water feeling tired after the long run. Charlotte lay next to me and closed her eyes, with her head resting on her front paws.

Her eyes suddenly popped opened and she sniffed the air. I could smell something as well. She started creeping with her nose to the ground following the scent.

She pounced on something I couldn't see. When she came over to me, she was carrying a white rabbit in her mouth. She dropped it at my feet and took off again in pursuit of another scent. A few minutes later she returned with another rabbit. This time she kept it for herself. She tore into it, devouring all of it but the fur and bones. She grunted at me and nodded for me to dig in. I tried to resist, but the scent was too alluring and I had to admit, I was hungry. I hadn't eaten all day. I tore into the rabbit, instinct taking over, and gobbled it up. When I was finished, I wanted more. Charlotte must have agreed because she put her nose on the ground and began to hunt.

I caught my own rabbit, a fact I was quite proud of. And together we brought down a deer. I was stuffed. I couldn't put anything else in my stomach.

We went back to the stream to wash down our meal and clean ourselves, before falling asleep in the grass next to the water.

# Chapter Seven

### The Beach

I woke to the sound of low moaning. I opened my eyes and saw Charlotte still in wolf form hovering over something. She was eating again. She must have caught another rabbit. I crawled slowly over to her hoping that she might share. I could smell the scent of fresh meat and blood, I almost drooled. I was surprised that I was hungry. It couldn't have been that long since we took down that deer. I snuck up behind her and saw what she tearing into. It was Eva's brother Samuel.

I snarled a warning at her to make her stop, but she continued, swatting me with her tail. I bit down on her neck trying to pull her away, her blood seeped into my mouth and my wolf relished the taste. She yelped, and then growled fiercely at me, baring her bloody fangs. I pounced, biting and growling shoving her to the ground. But she was stronger. She ripped my neck and I howled in pain falling into a patch of mud. Charlotte wasn't concerned at all that she had hurt me. She just went back to her meal as though I wasn't even there.

A quick glance at Samuel told me that it was too late to save him anyway. Just like Lucy, he stared at me with lifeless eyes. The image brought back the pain from a month ago and I ran to escape my thoughts. I ended up back at the stream. Since I was here, I washed my wounds in the clear, cool water.

Charlotte came back a few minutes later to wipe the blood off of her fur. I growled menacingly, but she didn't even look up at me. When I finished washing, I decided I couldn't stand to be around her any longer so I took off, heading back to our clothes, disgusted with her, and myself.

About halfway to my destination, I heard laughter and voices. I stopped to listen, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Closing my eyes, I focused on the sounds of the forest, blocking out all other noises. The voices were mixed with the sound of waves washing on the shore, and the smell of smoke, a bonfire. I found them; they were coming from the northwest, at the lake. Oh no, my friends. With everything that had happened since I had spoken to Eva, I had forgotten about my previous plans.

I took off in the direction of the beach, hoping that Charlotte hadn't heard what I had. As I ran, I heard rodents and small animals, scurrying away, jumping out from my path. I was a hunter and now feared, it made my chest puff up and the urge to chase was hard to resist, but I remembered my task, to keep Charlotte away from my friends. My paws dug into the hard ground, forcing my limbs to speed up. I jumped over a fallen tree branch and almost skidded into a tree stump, I righted myself quickly, flying over the under growth and brush. I was almost there when I saw her sneaking toward the lake. She hadn't noticed me yet, so I sped up, running at high speed to reach my friends before she did. She was ahead of me, but I was faster and I reached the clearing first.

There, in a circle around a fire, with smoke rolling up into the air, were all of my friends. If I hadn't turned into a freak of nature, I would have been with them, sharing in their laughter, singing songs and telling ghost stories.

Charlotte growled a warning to me, but I ignored her, running out to the edge of the trees, I started to howl.

"Oh my goodness, what is that, Henry?" Eva yelled.

Henry saw me, his eyes widened with fear. No one else noticed where the howl was coming from. "It's a wolf, a very large one. Everybody, back away slowly." I could smell his fear, but his voice was calm as he took charge. I was proud to be his friend.

Everyone moved slowly just as Henry instructed, but it was taking too long. Charlotte was not far, I could smell her just behind me, hidden behind a sumac bush. When I heard the movement in the brush, I knew she was about to pounce. I couldn't let her hurt them; she had taken enough from this town. I growled at my friends and ran straight at Henry.

They took off running. Even though this was the only way to make them leave, I feared this would set Charlotte off with the urge to chase and I was right. She took off in full speed in the direction of Eva who was the slowest.

I barreled into Charlotte knocking her down. My friends were able to escape in their horse and buggies while I struggled to keep her from attacking them. We fought for a long time, growling and biting at each other. Her claws dug into me more times than I cared to remember, but I also got in a few good bites and scratches as well, the scent of her blood just spurred me on.

When they were out of sight, Charlotte gave up with a huff and a snarl, taking off in the direction of the clearing where our clothes were.

When I arrived, she was standing motionless with her head down concentrating until the change started.

I went behind a juniper bush and tried the same thing. I imagined being human, picturing every part of my body, until I felt a tingling along my limbs. It started with a prickle that developed into a searing pain as my body changed form. It was as painful turning into a human, as it was turning into a wolf. My injuries, were nothing more than scars forced away by the change, I would have to remember that.

When I felt normal again, I stood up and quickly dressed. I stepped out from the bush, and Charlotte was gone. Panicking, I took off after her, sniffing the air for her scent. I found her at the edge of the road leading to my house.

I rushed over, about to strike her for killing again, but when I stood in front of her with my hand raised, I didn't see the murderous wolf. I saw a woman, and I couldn't do it, my father had taught me well. It was gratifying to see a few scars on her forehead and cheek; I knew I had given them to her.

"You coward!" she spat at me. "How dare you come between me and my prey? If you do that again, I will eat you!" Her eyes were filled with venom that matched her vicious tone.

I was not afraid of her, at this moment I was so livid, I almost shook with intensity. "You're a murderer! You didn't need to kill them. Your belly was full of deer and rabbit, all you wanted was the kill. The next time I will stop you!"

Her eyes narrowed, turning yellow. Now that I was her equal, she no longer frightened me. "Do not forget what happened here tonight. If I'm a murderer then so are you. I know you craved the kill as much as I did. I could sense your urge to feed." Her voice was low and menacing.

I started to protest, but stopped and backed away from her. She was right. When I smelled Samuel's blood, my mouth had watered. It didn't matter to my wolf side that it was human blood. The only thing that stopped me from joining her was that I knew him. If it had been a stranger, all the wolf inside me would have seen was food. I was a murderer. I would kill sooner or later, just like Charlotte.

She continued her speech, unaware of my internal struggle. "You think I was never human. I rejected killing at first, just like you. But in the end you can't stop the wolf. If you fight it, the wolf wins. If you embrace it, you control the wolf. I will teach you everything. Meet me in the town square at noon tomorrow. I'm taking the stage coach to the next town."

I was stunned silent. Everything that happened and would happen played out in my mind and it all added up to one thing. I was a monster.

Charlotte started to walk away then turned back to me. "Noon, remember. If you're not there, I will leave without you." She paused and then smiled. "Goodbye handsome Nathaniel." With that she strolled away as if she didn't have a care in the world, her blue striped dress billowed out behind her.

My world spun. I felt dizzy and terrified. How could I live with my family? What if I woke one morning as a wolf? Would I kill one of my sisters? I couldn't do that. I wouldn't. I couldn't risk my family. There was only one thing to do. I ran home, determined of my new course.

# Chapter Eight

### Sacrifice

In my father's crowded office, I lit a lantern and started searching for what I needed. I tore papers out of drawers, books off of shelves. Finally, in the back corner of my father's desk, I found the bullets I had been looking for. In another desk drawer I found the pistol my father had recently purchased after the general store was robbed. It was wrapped in newsprint.

I tore the paper away, throwing it to the floor, and rushed outside.

I had almost made it to my destination, under the cover of the trees, when I heard my father's voice. "Nathaniel!"

I spun around with the pistol in my right hand, pointed to the ground. "I'm sorry, Father, but I have to protect our family."

My father's eyes widened with fear. "Son, what are you doing with my pistol? Put it down now. I mean it." He was holding his hands up as though I was a jittery colt.

Tears poured down my face. "I'm sorry, Father, but I have to. That thing that killed Lucy was the woman at the store. She bit me that night, and now I am like her, a werewolf. A monster!" I screamed.

He started to come closer.

"No, stay where you are. I don't want to hurt you." He stopped about ten feet from me. I could smell fear coming from him. "Tonight Charlotte and I became wolves and I watched her kill Eva's brother. I tried to stop her but she was stronger than me. If I hadn't gotten her away from my other friends, she would have killed them too. Father, I am like her. I have to protect you." I lifted the pistol and pointed it at my temple, the cold metal was a shock to my over-heated skin.

"Nooo! Nathaniel, please don't do this. You are not a monster. I believe what you say. I've noticed you changing, but if anyone can fight it, it's you."

I wanted to believe him, but I knew better. I lowered the pistol and stared down at it, the moon shone onto the metal creating a glow. It was a sign, and I knew I was doing the right thing. "Tonight when she killed him, the only reason I didn't join her was because I knew who he was. If it was a stranger, the wolf inside me would have taken over." I was whispering, afraid of my own words.

He was standing in front of me now. I was lost in my thoughts and hadn't notice him approach. He took the pistol from my hands.

"No Father, please don't try and stop me. I could kill Mary or Rose. When I am a wolf, I do not see people, I see easy prey. And since they are children I would go for them before you. I am a monster and I must be stopped. Please kill me." I gulped. "Or I will kill your daughters." I yelled the last words, trying to force him to do what was right. His eyes widened and he slowly raised the pistol.

I closed my eyes and waited. But nothing happened. I opened them and saw my father crying. A sight, I had never before seen in all of my eighteen years.

"I can't do it. You are my son." He still had the pistol pointed at me, but his hands were shaking.

"Do it Father, or I will! Do it!" I shouted.

His eyes were tortured. "I cannot," he whispered lowering the weapon.

I grabbed it, aimed and pulled the trigger, the pistol exploded in my hand leaving a ringing in my ears. Just then, my farther hit the barrel and the bullet lodged into my shoulder, instead of my target--the heart.

I fell to the ground. My father stepped back in shock, his eyes wide. Then gaining his senses, he pushed his hands onto my shoulder trying to stop the blood. "Nathaniel how could you? I can't lose you. Why?" He fell on top of me, weeping.

I felt tingling where the bullet went in, then pressure. I pushed my father up and lifted my shirt. We both sat and watched the bullet fall out of my shoulder.

My father watched in disbelief as my wound slowly healed. He stumbled back, as if he had been burned.

I bent down, resting my head on my knees in defeat. I was a monster and there was nothing I could do about it.

He sat across from me on the grass thinking. His head was lowered, resting in his hands.

After a few minutes, my father lifted his head. "You will go. We will pack your things while they sleep and you will live at our old cabin in Baycrest. The cabin is isolated, surrounded by forest. If you stay around the property, there won't be a problem. If anyone can fight this, it's you. I believe in you, Son."

His confidence gave me hope.

I thought about it. "Charlotte said I will only change once a month on the full moon. I can make sure I stay at the cottage on those days. But how will I live? I have no money."

"I will give you what I have saved for you to go to school, you can't go now. And I will send you bank drafts monthly. We must change your name and I will send funds to the post office in Baycrest."

I had hope for the first time in two days. "I'll do it."

My father and I packed up my belongings. While I was out at the old buggy loading my things, my mother came out of the house.

"You cannot leave me," she said touching my face with her hand. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She smelled of roses; I would miss that scent while I was gone.

I held the hand she had resting on my face. "Mother I must, it is the only way. Did Father tell you?"

She pulled her hand away, turned her head and nodded.

"I am so sorry Mother, but this is the only way to protect you, Father and the girls."

She turned back to me, her face was determined. "You will beat this. I know it. You are a strong man. You go and learn to control what you are. But I will see you again. You are my child." She took me in her arms and held me tight. "I love you," she whispered, then ran into the house. With her light colored dress, she looked like a ghost in the night.

I stood motionless watching her. Leaving them would be the hardest thing I had ever done, but it was something that I knew I must do.

My father came out carrying the bedding from my bed, placing it in the buggy. "There are a few cartons of food your mother wants you to take. Have you got everything you need?"

I nodded. "Nearly, I just want to look in my room to make sure."

We stepped into the house together. I went to my room and picked up the rest of the things I wanted to take, my favorite books and pictures of the family. I loaded them into a crate and then remembered my lanterns. I looked around my room one last time, and then walked out to load the crate into the carriage. My father was waiting for me, having loaded all of the food.

"You keep Bessie and Franklin. There is a small stable to keep them in. I don't think there are any supplies in the cabin. Did you bring your lanterns?"

"Yes Father, and if I need anything I can go to the general store. I have my money," I said, patting the breast pocket of my coat.

"Tell them your name is William Riley, and that you are my cousin. I will send letters to you in that name."

"Father, Charlotte told me that I will not age. What if someone notices?"

"You will have to move on every couple of years, but never leave without writing me."

I shook my head. "I won't Father, and I will write to you as soon as I can. Shall I write to the girls?"

He hesitated for a few seconds before nodding. "Yes, but tell them you went to college early. We will have to explain the truth eventually, but not until they are older."

"Alright, Father. I have to go."

He stared at me, as if contemplating whether or not he should let me leave. His dark blue eyes, so like my own, looked black under the night sky. His cap was tilted, showing some of his light hair. I watched him, hoping I would not forget what he or the rest of my family looked like. At this moment, I was afraid I would never see them again, and an ache formed in my chest. When it looked like he was not going to say anything else, he wrapped me in his arms for a quick hug, the smell of his pipe tobacco whirled around us. "I love you, Son. Take care." Releasing me, he walked swiftly into the house without looking back.

I glanced around the farm one last time before hopping onto the carriage. I was miserable at the thought of leaving our lovely home. I grew up here and had so many memories. For some reason, the image of Henry and me sneaking into the kitchen when we were only six years old popped into my mind. We were trying to steal a few lemon cakes. As we snatched them off the table, we thought that we had gotten away with the perfect theft. I found out later, that my mother had left them out for us.

"Yaw," I yelled, slapping the reins to get the horses to move. When I passed the barn, a memory of Lucy entered my thoughts. She was only ten, and I dared her to jump from the loft into the mound of hay. I was punished dearly when my father got wind of it, and Lucy was laid out for a week with a sprained ankle. Despite my dreary mood, a small smile appeared on my lips at the memory. My mother felt so bad at what had happened that she made me visit Lucy everyday to keep her company, which was when my feelings began to develop. The smile vanished as the now familiar image of Lucy's dead face took over the memory.

There was a loud boom of thunder, followed by a streak of lighting that flashed in the sky above me, reminding me of my current state. I could no longer linger here. This was my past, and as much as I hated to, I had to let it go. With a feeling of utter helplessness, I picked my hat up off the seat and put it on, waiting for the rain. I managed to get to the village square before the downpour started. Our old buggy didn't have a canopy and the horses and I were drenched within seconds. This was not a good night for Franklin and Bessie. When I had helped Father, put on their bindings, they were skittish around me. They must have been sensing the change in me. Using a soft voice and gently stoking them calmed them down, but there eyes never left me. I might have soothed them, but I hadn't gained their trust yet.

The rain was relentless as we made our way, I didn't mind it though, it just added to my dismal mood. I was leaving the only place I felt at home, everything and everyone I ever knew, to make a new life. I didn't know how to be a werewolf and I couldn't help feeling as I made my way alone through the deserted roads, that my life was over.

# Chapter Nine

### A New Start

It was a long and miserable ride to my new home. The night was dark, with only the full moon to guide me, but worse still, it was wet. The rain never ceased. I almost stopped a few times to find shelter from the storm, but I did not want to prolong my journey any more than necessary. By the time I made it to Baycrest, I was weak with exhaustion, chilled to the bone from the rain, and desperately lonely for the life I had given up.

I reached the small town, in the wee hours of the morning, and of course all was still. Only someone mad would be out this late and in this kind of weather, or someone like me, who was running away. I followed the main road and turned at an old overgrown lane. The grass, weeds and brush had overtaken the road that was once here. I knew from memory that this would take me to our cabin, even though my family and I hadn't been here in years.

The road was bumpy and full of holes that I could have avoided had I not been so fatigued. Finally, after a few miles, I could see the outline of the cabin. It was old, with faded grey wood that appeared to be black in the darkness. The shutters were hanging from nails and the grass had grown so high it covered half of the door. The appearance of the shack might scare away someone else, but not me. I looked forward to bringing the cabin back from the depths of disrepair. It would take weeks and a lot of hard work to bring it back to the way it once was, and I couldn't wait to begin. With each pound of the hammer and stroke of paint, it would keep my mind from drifting to the misery that was now my life. It would hopefully help make me forget that the last month had ever happened.

I rushed inside carrying the crates that my father had thankfully covered. I was shivering uncontrollably but still managed to undo the buttons of my shirt and trousers. After tossing my wet clothes on a dust covered chair, I took out a lantern and placed it on the table. Now that I could see what I was doing, I decided to make a fire.

There was a pile of wood sitting on the floor by the stove. Dust and cobwebs had settled from lack of use, but when I struck the match and tossed it into the stove with some newsprint, a fire started immediately. I huddled in front of the open stove, warming my body, before putting on dry clothes. The room was dark, causing the fire and lantern to create shadows along the dreary walls.

When I finally stopped shivering, I retrieved the lantern from the table and carried it outside to put Bessie and Franklin in the stables. They resisted at fist when I touched them, but they eventfully let me lead them to shelter. It was either fight with me and stay in the rain or get warm in the barn. Inside their stalls I fed them with the little bit of hay I could find, and when they were distracted with food, I gave them each a quick brush. The only resistance I noticed was a few flinches as the brush went over their fur. Once they were settled comfortably, I went back inside.

I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I remembered coming here as a boy, so I knew there were two rooms. I picked the one I used to stay in. I wanted to pretend things were normal for at least one night and if I slept in my parent's room, the delusion wouldn't work. I didn't take time to look around to see if the room was the same as I remembered. I removed the drop cloth my mother had placed years before, and flopped onto the tiny wood framed bed, falling asleep instantly.

My eyes were still closed when I woke in the late morning, but I knew without looking that something was amiss. This was not my room. The smell was different, and the bed I lay upon was harder than my own. As I slowly opened my eyes, the events of the previous evening flooded back to me. I was lying in my old bedroom of my family's Baycrest cabin. In my exhausted state, I had forgotten to make the bed. I was curled up atop the small, dusty, bare mattress. I could tell by the light through the window that it was mid morning. I had hoped to sleep longer, after my never-ending night, but I had been having a disturbing dream about Lucy. We were walking through a meadow, and I felt as if we were being watched. I knew this dream, I had it many times after her death. It always ended the same, Lucy lived and I died. That was when I woke up.

Still a tad sluggish, I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the old wooden plank ceiling. Awaking alone felt so much worse than I thought it would. I knew it would be hard to leave my family, but with everything that happened last night, I didn't realize the loneliness I would feel this morning. The quiet was smothering. I wasn't use to it; my sisters never went long without talking or singing. Their voices carried throughout the whole house. You'd think I'd welcome the silence. You'd be wrong.

Taking a few deep breaths to familiarize myself with the new scent of dust and dirt, I sat up slowly and looked around. The small bureau from my childhood was where I remembered, under the tiny cubby hole of a window. A wooden shelf held a few of my old books my mother had forgotten the last time we had been here, just before Mary was born.

I stood up and reached for my favorite, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, I thought I had lost it. I had read the book many times, but never got tired of it. I blew the dust off the cover and flipped through the pages. For the first time in forty-eight hours, I smiled, remembering a time when I was a child, lying outside under the large oak tree reading about Tom's adventures. I had no worries then. Monsters were an intriguing myth to me and farthest from my life as possible. If only I could go back to that time.

I closed the book with a thump, and coughed as dust flew off the pages. With no one to keep me company, I placed the book on the stand next to my small cot, I would read it later.

Noticing the crate with my bedding beside the doorway, I dug through it, choosing my favorites and made the bed. Once that was done, I went out to the kitchen to find something to eat.

The cabin was small but held everything I needed, a kitchen that was just big enough for a table. A small parlor with one settee and a chair, my father's old desk sat under the window. There was an outhouse about twenty feet from the cabin and a small barn with stables.

I found the muffins my mother had packed for me and gobbled them down. Now that I had some nourishment, it was time to make this place more livable. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

First item on the agenda was to air out the cabin, it had been closed up for too long and the air was thick with mildew. I opened windows, and swept away dust and cobwebs. Of course with the windows opened, the sun was extremely bright. Thankfully, my mother had sent some freshly laundered coverings. I hung them up and stepped back, they reminded me of home, which made me both lonesome and happy.

I unpacked everything and made a list of what I would need when I went to town, which I decided to do the next day. By noon, when the house was suitable, I started on the outside. I let the horses out so they could graze on the grass. The weeds were over grown and needed tending along the side of the cabin.

By twilight, I had taken care of the grass, weeds and had chopped enough wood for the next few days. I built a fire and started to cook myself some venison and potatoes. I had never cooked before, since my family had a house-maid, and my mother loved to do it. But as a child I would sit in the kitchen and watch her prepare our meals. For some reason, as I made my food, I felt closer to my mother. If I closed my eyes, I could picture her beside me peeling potatoes, and humming a tune. I almost smelled her rose perfume. When I cut myself with the knife, I was forced to open my eyes to the deserted kitchen. I busied myself with the task at hand before the pain at losing my family could return. I needed to accept my new life, and stop dwelling on the past. Although I knew that was easier said than done.

After finishing my meal, I cleaned the dishes. It took awhile to get the water out of the pump. It was mostly air from lack of use.

When the sun started to slip in the sky, I put the horses in the stables, giving them each a good brushing.

Inside the cabin, I lit the lanterns and settled down to read my old book. The only time I had spoken all day was when I brushed the horses. It was so quiet here; I could hear every blade of grass sway in the wind, every chirp from the birds flying overhead and every scurrying step from the small animals burrowing in the underbrush. But what I couldn't hear were the high pitch squeals of laughter from my younger sisters, or the calm soothing voice of my mother as she discussed the day's chores with Jane. It had only been one day, and I craved the contact of other humans. I missed my family terribly. My hate for Charlotte grew even more.

The next morning brought bright sunshine. It was a clear day; all traces of the storm from two days ago were gone. The sky was a soft blue, with nothing but white clouds streaking across it. I noted the spots in the lane where I would need to fill as Franklin, and I traveled to town to buy supplies. As I lounged in the parlor the night before, I found myself looking about the room. I decided the cabin could use some color, inside and out. I wasn't sure on the colors I wanted. I only knew that they needed to be as homey as possible.

Baycrest was much the same as Creekford, the town where I grew up and considered my home. There was a general store, a dress shop, a tavern and an inn. I tied Franklin and the buggy out in front of the store and went in to make my purchases.

The aisles were loaded with everything I needed, right down to the paint. I perused the colors and decided on white with green trim for the outside, eggshell blue for the kitchen, and pale green for my bedroom and parlor.

I loaded everything I needed onto the wooden counter. "Well hello there, you're new around here. Are you visiting, or did you just move to town?" a pleasant woman, with chestnut hair asked. She was wearing a blue floral dress, and blue hat. Her coffee colored eyes were kind when she smiled. She appeared to be about the same age as my mother.

I tipped my cap at her, giving her a small smile. "Yes, I just moved into the old Riley cabin yesterday."

"Oh my heavens! Way out there? I hope you're not all by yourself?"

"Yes I am, Ma'am," I said nodding to her, hoping she would not ask why.

"Oh, are you a relative of the Riley's?"

"I am a cousin. My name is William."

She held out her hand to shake mine, her hand was warm, her grip strong for a woman of her age. "Hello William, welcome to Baycrest. I hope you like it here. My name is Clara Matthews." She rang everything through, and gave me the total. It was quite a bit, but I needed a lot. I really didn't want to have to go to town often. The whole point in coming here was to live a solitary life so I could get a handle on my new situation. It would be difficult if I became social with the townspeople, and if I had to come often for supplies that might happen.

Once I said my goodbyes to Clara, I carried my packages back outside to load the buggy. As I bent over arranging the items in the small carriage, I heard a couple of young voices, coming up behind me. With them, I could smell the scent of honeysuckle, and cinnamon. Finishing my task, I stood up, noticing two girls my age walking toward me. They blushed, smiled and giggled as they made their way passed. If they knew what I really was, I'm sure they wouldn't be smiling at me. I ignored them and hopped up onto the seat and prepared to head for home.

Back at the cabin, I started on my work, beginning with the inside first, hoping the paint would be dry before I came in for the evening. The furniture was easy to move into the center of the room with my new werewolf strength. The kitchen didn't take long, since most of the walls were covered with shelves. As I worked on the bedrooms and parlor, I let my mind wander to the day I decided to court Lucy. I had had feelings for her for quite sometime, but had never acted on them. One day Henry and I were playing the new sport called basket ball, using one of my mothers old baskets. We had nailed it up on the barn door and were taking turns throwing the ball. Thump, thump, thump, Henry bounced the ball against the packed-in dirt. "Are you going to throw it? Or are you just going to bounce it?" I called to him playfully.

He grinned at me before tossing it in. "I believe that's five to your measly three." He replied, smirking at me. "And it's your turn to get the ball out."

The only problem with basketball was that you had to constantly climb a ladder to pull the ball out of the basket. By the time I made my way back down the ladder, ball in hand, Lucy was standing beside Henry, smiling at me. "Can I play?" she asked, her pale blue dress was fancy. Her hair was up under a matching bonnet. She had been to see my mother for tea and scones.

"I'm sorry Lucy, but I don't think your mother would appreciate you getting your pretty dress all dirty." I leaned against the barn door, with the ball in my hand. "Besides this is a game for boys." Henry chuckled beside her.

Lucy narrowed her eyes and stuck out her chin. "Oh really?" I nodded my head and I couldn't help the grin that appeared. "How about a challenge then. Since I'm just a girl, you don't have to worry."

"What do you mean by challenge?" I asked.

She took the few steps that separated us and yanked the ball out of my hand. "If I get more baskets than you, you have to admit that girls can play games as well as boys." Both Henry and I laughed at that one, but were cut short by her scowl. "And, you have to court me."

I gaped at her, unsure if I had heard right, but by Henry's laughter, I gathered I had. "You... want me to court you...Why?"

With a roll of her eyes, she answered, "Do I really have to spell it out for you?" She said. When I continued to stare at her dumfounded by her statement, she went on. "You know that I came out last year?" I nodded. "Well, Cecil Barnes has been sniffing around Papa, asking about me, and I don't want to marry him."

"But you want to marry me?"

She bounced the ball in her hand. "You've been sweet on me since we were kids and dared me to jump off the rafters. And I guess being tied to you wouldn't be so terrible."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Only Lucy would ask a man to court her this way. Actually, I hadn't heard of any other girl doing the asking. I was so shocked by her behavior, I could only nod.

She grinned. "Okay, stand back," she instructed, holding the ball out, before tossing it upward. As the ball bounced above the basket, I held my breath uncertain of the outcome I was hoping for. It skidded along the top before sliding in. Lucy cheered, and my heart soared. Apparently I wanted her to win.

When my turn came, I purposely threw the ball too far. Henry eyed me curiously, knowing what I had done. But how could I not let her win, when her face was so flushed with happiness.

Of course she won, and I never told her that I threw the game. She might have won fair and square, but I didn't want to take that chance. How often do you find a girl so strong minded that she would make you start to court her?

That afternoon, I made my way to her father dressed in my Sunday clothes. The first words out of his mouth after I asked him were, "what took you so long?"

I chuckled to myself at the memory. It was getting easier to think of her without the searing pain in my chest.

By the time I was finished with painting the inside of the cabin, it was mid-day and I was hungry. I ate a sandwich and admired the walls, they looked much better.

The next few hours were busy with sanding the wooden siding and hammering the shutters back down. Once the outside of the cabin was prepared, I began to apply the white paint. The sun was just beginning to set when I was putting the finishing touches on the last shutter. I cleaned the brushes, and stowed all of my equipment in the barn, and then retreated into the house to eat dinner.

The day had been filled with strenuous activity, and I wasn't even tired. Before my transformation, my muscles would be aching from the work, but not now. Other than my memory of Lucy, I hadn't really even thought about my family, nor had a chance to miss them. My mind had been occupied with the work at hand.

After dinner, I sat down at the desk and penned a letter to my parents. The lantern's glow gave out a lonely feel, sending ghostly shadows all around the room. The only sound was the wind whistling through the cracks of the wooden plank walls. The smell of paint overpowered every other smell in the room. Now that my mind was free from the chores that needed to be done, memories of my family and friends returned to my thoughts, leaving me feeling extremely lonely. The need for some contact from my former life was overwhelming. I dipped my quill in the ink and started writing, I tried to convey in my words that I was happier than I felt.

Dear Mother and Father, I wrote, my hand started to shake with the longing to see them. I took a drink of water from the glass on the corner of the desk and started again.

I've arrived at my new cabin, and have just finished making it a home again. I painted the walls inside and out, and cut down all the weeds. I could barely open the door, they were so long.

Bessie and Franklin are adjusting as well. The grass is abundant here so they have been stuffing themselves.

I went to town today and met the storeowner. Her name is Clara Matthews. She seemed friendly and welcomed me to town.

I miss you all very much, but I will enjoy being able to sleep in without the girls screaming outside my door.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Love Nathaniel.

I folded the letter, and placed it in an envelope, addressing it to both my parents. I did as my father instructed and used the name William for the return address. I would wait to take it to town the next time I needed supplies.

# Chapter Ten

### Letters from Home

As the weeks passed without the company of my family, my frame of mind deteriorated. Even though I had a few chores left to finish around the cabin, my heart just wasn't into it. I barely got out of bed in the mornings, some days all I did was tend to the horses. I chopped wood, cooked for myself maybe once a day, which probably wasn't the best idea. Since I had become a werewolf I had an enormous appetite.

A week after I mailed my letter, I received one in return. I almost didn't go to town. Unable to shake the loneliness I felt, it was difficult to pull myself off the creaky mattress. When Mrs. Matthews handed me the letter, my spirits soared, and I was thankful I had left the cabin.

I rushed home, wanting some privacy when I read my family's words. There was a letter from each of them. I opened my mother's first.

Dear Nathaniel,

I was so happy when we received your letter. I was driving the post master mad asking if there was a letter for me. I hate that they think it is from our cousin, but we must keep you hidden.

Is it so very lonely? You sounded homesick, although I know you tried to hide it, but I am your mother, you cannot fool me.

I laughed out loud, she was right, I couldn't fool her. I would have to try harder the next time.

The girls miss you terribly, they cry for you almost every day. Rose say's she will never forgive you for not saying good-bye. I don't know how I will tell her, but I know I will have to soon. She doesn't seem to believe that you went to school early. She is almost thirteen and she might be able to handle the truth. I just don't know. I am a lot older and can barely handle it myself. If I could get my hands on that woman who did this to you, I would let her have it. I do not care what she is.

We had the funeral for Eva's brother a few days after you left. The town is worried about the wolves attacking again. I wanted to tell them it was okay, she was gone, but how could I explain?

I hope you are doing well, and I can't wait to visit you. We are hoping to come soon. Please let us know when you are up for it. I have wonderful news, I am pregnant and I hope it is a boy. If it is, I will call him William, Nathaniel Riley.

He will know you, Son. I don't care what we have to do, but you will meet your little brother.

I must sign off,

I love you so much.

Your mother

My chest swelled with emotion after reading her letter three more times. I wasn't able to get to the rest for fear of breaking down completely. Instead, I set them aside to read at another time, and then went out to the stables to prepare Franklin for a run. My spirits were a bit higher, and I was in the mood to explore the property. Except once I put the saddle on him, he bucked it off. It was one thing for him to lead me in the carriage, another entirely for him to let me ride him. He had been my horse before I was bitten, and we had ridden well together, but now that I smelled differently he didn't trust me. After a few attempts to mount him, he finally stilled, obviously realizing that I wasn't going to give up. I had to lose my family for a time because of what I now was, I wasn't losing him too. "It's okay boy, it's just me. The same Nathaniel you've always known." I cooed at him, rubbing his fur softly. With my words, he started down the meadow at a slow trot. Eventually I prodded him to pick up his pace and before long, we were racing through the property.

If it was possible, over the next few weeks my mood darkened. The silence was unbearable and I missed home so much more then I ever thought I could. I was not meant for isolation.

Everything that needed to be done around the cabin was finished. I now found myself bored, and with nothing but books to occupy my thoughts, my mind often wandered to my parents, my sisters, and to Lucy. I relived that horrible night more times than I cared to admit, in my dreams, and in the brightness of the day when I should be trying to move on. I dwelled on the past and felt dreadfully sorry for myself. The only time I left the cabin was when I went to town to mail and receive letters. I was running out of food, but I didn't care, I never had an appetite. Most days I spent inside lying on my bed, asking God why this happened to me.

One evening as usual, I was lying back on my mattress, feeling week with hunger and yet didn't have the energy to move. Instead, I was reading Robinson Crusoe, hoping to change my dreary thoughts.

When the sun went down I started to feel tingling along my skin. I looked down and saw little hairs springing up all over my body. I should have paid more attention to the date. I forgot there was a full moon today, I wasn't prepared. It came on a lot faster this time and I barely made it out of the cabin before my body transformed into a wolf. It was excruciating, but since it was so quick, I almost didn't register the pain.

As soon as the wolf took over, all it could think about was...FOOD! I should have eaten better while I was human.

I took off into the forest desperately hungry, in hunt for something to eat. I quickly devoured two rabbits, but it wasn't enough. I raced through the forest, flying over tree stumps, thickets and fallen branches, in search of something bigger. I was hoping for a deer but when I found one, I couldn't catch it on my own. I caught a few small animals, but they barely quenched my appetite, and I was still savagely hungry. I had been running for miles when I heard sounds of the town. Maddened with starvation, the wolf had fully taken over, and I couldn't distinguish the different noises. I was so far gone, that human sounds meant nothing to me.

I came up to the edge of the woods when I smelled an enticing aroma. The heart was beating and the blood flowing through the veins of my prey was mouth watering. I acted on instinct, I was a wild animal, a hunter, and I needed to feed. All I focused on was that scent. I found my meal lying under a tree. I ate my fill, and once I was satisfied, I ran off to the deep cover of the forest to sleep.

Something was splashing my face. I winked and blinked as water dripped onto my eyelids. Was someone pouring water on me? As I slowly regained consciousness, I felt the hard ground under me. I opened my tired eyes and glanced around. I was lying in the middle of a thicket of thorn bushes, and it was sprinkling. The sky was a dull grey and clouds hovered above. How did I get here? I asked myself as I slowly sat up, digging a thorn into my scalp. I yelped and ducked down on all fours crawling out into the open.

My body was covered in fresh scratches, but I also noticed new scars that must have happened when I crawled into the thicket in the first place. How did I get here and why am I naked and covered in blood? The answer came right away, the full moon. And with that thought, I remembered how the wolf had overtaken me, but that was where my memory failed. I couldn't recall what I did last night or how I came to be lying in the middle of the forest.

I didn't know where I was, but with my heightened sense of smell I was able to find my way back to the cabin. Walking barefoot through the thick brush left scratches on my already dirty and bloodied body.

After I washed up and dressed, I made myself the last of the eggs for breakfast, realizing that my lack of nutrition was surely the cause of the wolf taking over last night. The only thing I had to go on was the last full moon, and since I was lucid then, it had to mean I needed to eat. That was the only difference between the two days. I wasn't hungry the first time, and I remembered everything. I couldn't recall what happened last night, and the thought that I had no control over my own body frightened me immensely.

I went to town that afternoon to mail some letters to my family and pick up more supplies. My father had sent more funds, and with them I was able to get all the food I needed. I was standing in line to pay for my goods when I overheard a few people talking.

"Can you believe it? He was killed by an animal. The sheriff says it was most likely a wolf." I tensed, clenching my hands into fists, shattering the glass jar in my hand, blood dripped onto the wooden floor. Thankfully everyone was too interested in the gossip to notice.

As I bent down to clean up my mess, I listened carefully to the rest of the conversation. "Yes, Thomas said he left the tavern and could barely stand. The last anyone saw of him, he was lying under a pine tree just outside of town."

I gulped, my mouth suddenly went dry. As soon as I heard the words, the events of last night played out in my mind. The wolf that killed that man...was me.

I paid for my things quickly, rushing out of the store. People gaped at me as I bumped into them, not caring who I brushed up against as I made my escape. The prominent thought in my mind as I made my journey back to the cabin was that I had become a monster--exactly like my maker.

When I arrived home, I was upset and disgusted with myself. I couldn't believe what I had done. To take another life was what I had feared would happen. How could I do such a thing? Was I turning into Charlotte? I had been sure that living in isolation would have prevented this.

Something had to change. I knew that if I continued to kill, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. The thought of taking my own life entered my mind again, but the memory of what happened last time quickly erased the idea. I was a monster and I would just have to live with it.

I dumped the supplies onto the table before heading back outside to split wood. It was a good way to clear my head. My mind started to wander as I chopped, throwing the pieces of oak in a pile close to the cabin. I contemplated my options. Option one: give into the monster, become like Charlotte. It seemed inevitable anyway. If I let the wolf take over I could just excuse my behavior. I was a werewolf, I couldn't help myself. I tried to picture myself killing someone on purpose and I almost vomited at the thought. My parents had taught me to treat others well, respect my fellow man. It was engrained in my being, and one bite could not change that.

I'm not a murderer. I'd just have to come up with a plan to be a werewolf and be able to control the urges. What was it that Charlotte had said the last night I saw her.? "If you fight your wild side, the wolf wins. If you embrace it, you control the wolf." Yes, I had lost control once, but that had to be because I had starved myself, therefore starving the wolf. I fought my wild side and the wolf won this time. Now if I embrace it, by eating twice the amount I usually do, and changing more than just once a month, I might be able to control it. Charlotte had said that I could, and it wouldn't hurt as much the more I changed. I liked that idea, because the two times I had turned, the pain was unbearable. I wasn't sure if my idea would work, but it was all I had, and I wasn't willing to accept option one. The wolf may be a killer, but I wasn't.

That afternoon, I set my plan in motion. I ate an enormous lunch of stuffed chicken, and a loaf of Clara's baked bread. Afterward, I set out for the woods to try and change on command. I didn't know if I could do it since Charlotte had never shown me, but I had to try. I got down on my hands and knees, my fingers digging into the soft dirt, and my knees resting in a patch of thistles, and willed the wolf to come out. I focused on memory, trying to feel the wolf in my mind, visualizing hairs growing on my body, my limbs snapping and reforming. Besides a slight tingle, nothing happened. I stayed in the position for about an hour without any results. Finally, I gave up.

Since that wasn't going to work out, I needed something to do. I had decided not to dwell on my problems and try to be happy with what I had. I didn't have any family or friends, but I had the horses and they were slowly warming up to me. I had been taking them each for runs, and letting them loose in the meadow.

Today, since I had given up my quest to change into a wolf, I decided to play with the horses. We were frolicking in the pen--well they were doing the frolicking, I was watching-- when I had an idea. I opened the gate, and stood by Franklin, holding his bit. I started to run with him, and eventually let him go, and quickened my pace. When I first realized my unusual abilities, my parents thought I had outrun the horses. I wanted to see if I could, by racing them. When I let him go, he slowed. I turned around. "Come on Franklin, are you chicken?" I taunted. He slowed even more, and huffed at me. "Fine, you give up, but I won't." I turned around and again accelerated my pace. I was halfway to my marker when I heard hoof beats coming up behind me. I titled my head to see Franklin on my heels. This only made me run faster and I pulled away from him. I made it to the edge of the fence seconds before Franklin. So the answer to my question was--yes, I could outrun a horse.

By the time I went in for the night, I was in a good mood, nothing like exercise to lift your spirits.

The next day I tried to turn into a wolf again, this time using my anger, remembering what Charlotte did, not only to me, but to the town of Creekford. She had taken away Lucy, Samuel, and me. Then I pictured what I would do to her if I saw her again, and suddenly I was seething. I was so angry, I lifted up my chin and let out a howl, it started out human, and then clearly became wild. My body tingled and I exploded into a wolf. It was much faster using my anger, and even though it was still excruciating, it happened so fast, the pain was forgotten instantly. And thankfully with all the food I had been eating, I was in control. I was Nathaniel, only in a different form. With my small victory, I took off into the forest to practice hunting. I was alone so I needed to find a way to take down bigger animals.

Over the next few weeks, I ate a lot, and frequently. I became more active, finding projects around the cabin, and taking the horses out for a run, sometimes I rode them, other times, we raced. And when I turned into the wolf, I practiced hunting, hiding behind bushes watching the deer, learning their habits. My goal was to one day take one down by myself. It was a challenge, and it took a lot of my time, but that was something I had plenty of.

During the next rise of the full moon, I was in complete control, staying close to the cabin. After a few months I even enjoyed these nights. I felt liberated, like nobody could harm me. I was a wolf, king of the forest and nothing could touch me.

# Chapter Eleven

### Half Moon

My family visited about six months after I left home. I had finally learned to live with my condition and realized it didn't have to be the end of the world

I made dinner for them: roast chicken, potatoes, and green beans. I worked hard on the meal, trying to show my parents that I could make it on my own. I knew they worried about me and I wanted to take some of the burden off of them.

While the food was cooking my father sat down at the table and said that he had something he wanted to speak to me about. He told me that Mr. Matthews was moving, and wanted my father to buy the Baycrest General Store.

"I was hoping you would run it, Son. You know how to do it just as well as I do. And it will give you something to occupy your time."

I agreed immediately. I was so bored I could barely stand my own thoughts.

My mother stepped into the kitchen, filling the air with the scent of roses, taking the seat across from her husband. She was beautiful, her long blue flowered dress filled out in the center, almost ready to give birth. "Did I hear correctly? Did he agree?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Yes."

She turned to me, her face beaming. "I'm so glad."

Since dinner was ready I called my sisters to the table. They had been outside, exploring my new grounds.

We all took our seats, the girls sat quietly. Rose avoided my eyes. I was worried she would think differently of me. My parents had told her about my new condition before they traveled here. And apparently she didn't take it well.

"I'm surprised, Nathaniel. I didn't realize you could cook," my mother said, after she tasted the chicken. She smiled warmly at me, relief shining on her face.

"I used to watch you and Jane cook, remember?"

"Of course, but I didn't think that you actually paid attention."

I laughed softly. "Neither did I." My parents joined in my laughter. A clanging sound erupted from across the table.

We all turned to face Rose; she had thrown her fork onto her full plate.

She was frowning at us, her eyes narrowed. "How can you all laugh like everything is normal?" Her voice was shrill and slightly raised. To speak out this way was uncommon for my sister. She was a well behaved twelve year old, never giving my parents much trouble.

My mother reached over to touch her hand. "Rose, calm down. Everything will be fine."

Rose closed her eyes with her head pointed to her lap. "No it won't, he's not even human." Her words caused me pain. But by now I was used to the ache in my chest.

"Rose!" My father's voice was harsh, and full of reprimand.

Rose looked up at us, her eyes wide and red. "It's true isn't it?" She pushed her chair away from the table, making a loud squawk, and stormed outside.

The room was silent after she left, my parents glancing down at their plates, Mary staring wide eyed with a confused expression on her face.

I pushed my chair back and stood up from the table.

"Nathaniel, let me," my mother said reaching up to touch my hand.

"No Mother, I'll handle it."

My father nodded at me, lifting up his glass to take a drink of wine.

I found her sitting on the porch. I had just finished building it yesterday. All that was here when I had arrived were two rickety steps. She was huddled on the swing which I had also made. "Rose, I know you are nervous around me, but I want you to know that I am learning to deal with this, and I would never hurt you." My voice was gentle, just above a whisper. I didn't want to scare her.

"I know," her voice broke as she turned her head away, looking at the horses grazing in the pasture. "I hate that woman." It was obvious she was referring to Charlotte. "But Mama said it is wrong to hate," she whispered with her head still turned away from me.

I took her in my arms, and rubbed her back while she sobbed on my shoulder. I breathed in her scent, brown sugar and pine nuts. "I know, and she's right. It's hard to understand, but it happened, and we just have to live with it."

"Why can't you come home? If you are better now, why stay here?"

I sighed heavily. "I still don't trust myself to be around you all the time. A visit is fine, but I've only been this way for seven months. I won't put you and Mary at risk." I paused as she looked up at me. Her bright blue eyes were full of sadness. "Besides, I will no longer age. How would we explain that? If they found out what I am, they would try to kill me."

She was suddenly frightened; she clung to me as if an angry mob were standing in front of the house watching us right now.

"You must always keep my secret, or I won't be able to stay in contact with the family. Do you promise?"

She nodded, her head bobbed against my shoulder. "I promise. I won't let anything happen to you." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into the fabric of my coat.

I pulled away and took something out of my pocket. "Here, when you miss me, touch this and know that I am thinking of you. And if you ever need me, I'll be there." I opened my hand and dropped a necklace that I found in a catalogue into her open palm. On the chain was a half moon pendant. She looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you," she said, pulling it over her head.

I pulled out a matching one from of the same pocket. "Come on, let's give Mary hers."

She smiled and followed me inside.

A few hours later they left for home. The loneliness their absence left, wrapped tightly around me, smothering me.

I tore off into the woods, changing quickly. As a wolf I didn't miss them as much. I flew through the forest enjoying the wind whipping through my fur. I caught a scent to my left, it was a deer. Excited by the thrill of the hunt, I turned toward the smell, and adrenaline coursed through my limbs.

# Chapter Twelve

### A New Threat

Thirty years later

I killed again. I've resisted the urge for so long, I was sure I had conquered the cravings. But I was so busy yesterday with meetings, I didn't eat properly and I forgot what day it was. How could I be so neglectful? After being so careful for the last thirty years, I cannot believe I made such a terrible mistake. I have to find a way to make up for my sins, or I'm not sure I can live with myself. The guilt I felt after the first time was a weight on my shoulders that never truly went away, and now, after so long, I've added to it.

I lay in my bed staring up at the ceiling. The white paint was cracking along the corners. I heard a pigeon calling from outside my window and the sun shone bright in the sky, spilling though my curtains, but I didn't want to get up. I intended to stay in my house and hide, to punish myself for what I did. I hid my face under my pillow, the scent of laundry soap was overpowering. I sometimes forgot about my heightened sense of smell.

The sound of a motor outside my house alerted me. I still wasn't used to the new method of transportation; I preferred my horse and buggy.

Jumping up quickly, I looked in the mirror above the bureau to make sure there was no blood on my face or body. My sand colored hair was messy, but besides that all was well. I must have cleaned up when I arrived home. I dressed quickly and then went out to see who it was.

I peered out of the small window, and saw a man climbing out of a blue motor car. He was a stranger to me. He looked to be a few years older, twenty two maybe. He had black, slicked back hair, and deep brown eyes. His sharp jaw line led up to a strange oval scar right below his left ear. He was shorter than my six one and dressed in brown trousers and a black bomber jacket. He leaned against the autocar and stared at my house, waiting. All of this registered quickly with my sharp eyesight as I assessed him, but there was something about him that bothered me.

I opened the door and stepped out. "Can I help you?" I asked, walking out onto the porch.

He smiled, or rather sneered. "Are you Nathaniel Riley?"

"Yes, who's asking?"

"My name is Rowan. And I'm here to tell you that you are not the only one in this area. I just moved into town, and I'm in no hurry to leave. So if you have a problem with that, you can leave." His tone was light but his words were nothing but. He was giving me a warning, I just didn't understand why.

My brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand," I said, leaning against the railing. The wind changed direction blowing his scent my way, and as soon as I caught it, I understood.

He glared at me, his eyes turning yellow. He was like me, a werewolf.

I nodded. "You don't have to worry. I like to keep to myself, and I change as little as possible."

He laughed darkly. "Oh I'm not worried." He folded his arms in front of him.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"I watched you kill that homeless man last night."

I panicked. "I don't know what you're talking about." I stammered lifting my hands from the railing, and taking a step back.

He laughed again. "I won't tell anyone. I killed someone myself, after I followed you here. You know, you really should have caught my scent. Real werewolves don't get caught off guard."

Did he think he was insulting me, by saying I wasn't a real werewolf? I only wished it were true. "I was upset. I didn't mean to kill that poor man."

His arrogant smile faded. "Why not, didn't he taste good?"

I was disgusted at the callus way he spoke of killing a human being. "It's wrong to take a life," I said guiltily, hanging my head in shame.

He laughed heartily, and then took in my serious expression. "You're not joking?" he asked.

"Of course not, I try not to kill. I've only killed two people in the thirty years since I changed." I stepped back to the railing.

He chuckled. "I guess I really don't have to worry about you. I thought you might be a problem. It's not usually a good idea for more than one werewolf to live in an area. It might draw attention if too many people start getting killed. But I guess I'm the only real werewolf here."

"You don't have to worry about me," I repeated.

He climbed into his vehicle. "See you around, Pup," he yelled pulling away from my house. I had a bad feeling about him. I would have to be careful with him around.

I had lived in this town for two years. My father asked me to move here. He had just opened a general store and wanted me to run it. The manager was a family member and knew my secret, but my father said he needed me to oversee everything since I had been in the business for over thirty years. He often found this funny considering I still looked eighteen. When I opened stores for him I always had to take on meaningless jobs as a cover. But we usually had a relative to run it so I could show them the ropes behind closed doors.

My father had opened about ten Riley stores and his fortune was growing. They still lived in Creekford. My sister Rose was running the store there, and the ones closest. She was married and had three children. Mary was also married but stayed home with her family; her husband was the accountant for all of the stores. My father kept him very busy even though we were his only clients.

My uncles and their sons ran the rest of the stores throughout the country. It was my job to open the new ones and train them. Once they were able to handle the business on their own I would move on. My father created the position for me since I could only stay in one place a few years at a time.

My father put in every contract that only close relations could run the stores and they all had to keep my secret or they would be sued or fired. Most were told they would be taken out of my father's will if anyone found out what I was.

I got along with everyone I worked with so there was never a problem.

My younger brother William was running one of the stores two towns away from where I was now. I would be moving on soon so I enjoyed spending time with him for as long as I could. I was eighteen years older than him, but he looked more like my father than my little brother.

After my visit with Rowan I watched the newspaper. There were no new deaths since the night I had killed. I did find the victim's name though, it was Tom Fielding. He had lost his job at the shipping yard, and had a drinking problem. His wife had kicked him out, and he had been living on the streets. His name haunted me for weeks. I could no longer handle the guilt so I decided to look for his wife.

I found her in one of the poorer neighborhoods in the city. I stopped the horses outside a small house, and stared at the woman coming out of the front door. From my research this was the address of Mrs. Fielding. The house was poorly tended and in desperate need of a paint job. One of the second story windows was cracked; a piece of wood was fastened onto the frame to keep the whole window from breaking. The houses on either side were just as bad if not worse. One of the houses had garbage out on the stoop with a cat ripping into it looking for food. The smells in the neighborhood were so vile, that I regretted my heightened sense of smell.

A little girl ran out and gave the woman who must be Mrs. Fielding, a big hug then ran back into the house, the door shut behind her with a loud bang.

I nudged the horses to move out onto the street, I had seen enough. I found out that she had two other children besides the little girl and she worked two jobs just to put food on the table. I needed to help this woman; maybe then her husband's face would no longer haunt my dreams. I just wasn't sure how to accomplish that yet.

I continued to watch the paper for any unusual deaths, and it wasn't until a few weeks after Rowan appeared that I finally found something. It was an article about the rise of animal attacks. I knew he was behind them. My stomach turned as I read the story that confirmed four new deaths in town. The police didn't know how to handle it. They were searching for the animal, but of course they would never find it, since the real animal was human. I needed to find a way to stop him, because I knew the police couldn't.

The next night I decided to track him. I wandered through many different neighborhoods sniffing the air for his scent. It had been hours and still nothing. I had scoured almost all of the districts with no luck.

Just as I was about to give up, I caught a whiff of his familiar scent. He was in an alleyway behind a tavern, and what I found shocked me.

Rowan had a woman up against a wall leaning over her, whispering in her ear. She was whimpering and begging for him to stop. All of the scents of the alley assaulted me, garbage, urine, even the girl's fear. There was movement under a pile of rags near the door of a building, and I heard the rustling of rats and other small creatures.

"Is there a problem here?" I asked, making my way towards them. The girl, I could see now, appeared to be about sixteen, her blond hair was dirty, and she was wearing ripped clothing. I guessed that she was a runway.

She stared at me in relief. "Please help me. He's going to hurt me."

Rowan glowered at me. "Go away," he said, not concerned at all that I was there.

"Let her go, Rowan," I commanded, thankfully my voice sounded stronger than I felt.

He pushed himself off the wall and focused on me, his almost black eyes turned yellow with contempt. The girl saw the change in his eye color and let out a gasp. Her face was full of fear, as she glanced from him to me. Since he had stepped away from her she was able to slip away, running around a dumpster, then out onto the street.

Rowan watched her go with a shrug, and then turned to me, hatred clouding his face. "Who do you think you are? You are no match for me."

"You need to stop killing people. You are starting to attract attention to yourself."

"Nobody tells me what to do," he said, slowly stalking me.

"If you continue to kill recklessly, I will stop you." My fists were clenched at my sides and I was prepared to fight.

The sound of a motor chugged by on the road next to us. "That's a joke right? I'm older, and stronger than you. What are you going to do about it?" He leaned against the dumpster with his arms folded in front of him. Not a care in the world. I was just a small nuisance to him, not truly a threat. And I admit his casualness intimidated me.

"I'll find a way." My voice was not as strong as I wanted, but I got my point across. I turned my back on him, half expecting him to pounce, but nothing happened. As I turned the corner onto the street, I heard him laugh softly. Apparently, I wasn't as threatening as I had hoped. As I walked back to my horse and buggy, I knew he was right. I didn't have a violent bone in my human body, and I didn't know how to stop him.

The next day I had an idea of how I would help Tom Fielding's wife. I asked the manager at the store to call her and offer her a job. It appeared that she had experience and was given a position that would help her move to a better neighborhood. I know it could never change what I did to her ex-husband, but helping her in this small way eased my guilt a bit.

I spent the day with my cousin Daniel, discussing an idea I had after my visit to Tom Fielding's old neighborhood. Even though I had helped his wife, I still wanted to help others and I believed I had just the thing to do that. I wanted to open a house, where people of need could go for help. We didn't have the specifics yet, but I knew I was on the right path.

During lunch, my father called the store to let me know he was coming for a visit. He was sixty-eight years old now, so I needed to visit with him while I could.

I stopped on my way home to get his favorite meal.

When I pulled into the driveway of my house, which was on the outskirts of town, I saw my father's motor car sitting next to the porch. The white paint job shone in the sun's glow. He had just purchased it and was very proud. The sight of his brand new vehicle made me think that maybe I should embrace the new ways and purchase one. I stabled the horses and made my way into the house.

"Hello, Father?" I yelled from the entryway. As soon as I shut the door and entered the living room, the smell of blood entered my nostrils awakening the wolf within. But my brain was suddenly panicked, what had happened to my father? I heard him moaning and rushed towards the sound.

I found him lying on the wood floor behind the settee. He had been beaten severely. Both eyes were swollen shut, and starting to turn color. His lips were swollen as well and bleeding. Cuts and bruises were all over his face and hands, and his leg was twisted in an unnatural position. "Father, are you okay? Who did this to you?" I asked, kneeling over him, assessing his injuries. His regular scent of pipe tobacco was lost in the smell of blood.

He whispered something, but even with my extra hearing I couldn't understand him. I bent down closer. "A werewolf," he whispered again. I sniffed the air hoping whoever did this left his scent. At first all I could smell was the blood, my father, and wood, but suddenly there it was, very faint. It was Rowan.

I was responsible for this. I threatened him and he retaliated, by hurting my father.

I picked him up into my arms, carrying him as he had carried me when I was a child. Then I took him out to his autocar hoping we could get to the hospital faster than my horse and buggy. He groaned with pain as I placed him inside. Cringing with guilt, I gently touched his hand trying to sooth him before closing the passenger door. His skin was cold, and clammy.

I didn't really know what all the gadgets were for, but after touching a few buttons and nothing happened, I tried the key, next to the steering wheel and the motor purred to life. When I moved the wheel we turned. It wasn't as hard as I thought, and the drive was bumpy, but we arrived in no time. The ride was definitely quicker, and if I wasn't so worried about my father I would have really enjoyed the drive. I had never been in a autocar before.

At the hospital, the nurse took my father through a door telling me to stay and wait. I was so worried, I didn't know if I could. What if his injuries were extensive? I would never forgive myself.

I asked a nurse behind the desk to call my mother, and then sat down in an empty stale smelling waiting room, on an old plastic chair, staring out the window. It had started to rain since we'd arrived at the hospital. I watched the droplets scatter down the window pane, creating wavy lines all over the glass while I waited to hear news about my father.

# Chapter Thirteen

### Saying Goodbye

"Excuse me," Dr. Allen said as he stepped through the waiting room doors. He appeared to be in his mid thirties, with reddish-brown hair, a little grey starting at his sideburns and above his ears. He was wearing a long white doctor's coat with a white dress shirt, and navy blue tie under it.

We were all gathered in the tiny room, my family had arrived about a half an hour earlier. William and I were pacing the center of the room, and the women sat huddled on the chairs. My mother stood up as the doctor approached. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Riley?" he asked, and my mother nodded. "Your husband has suffered a very severe beating, which brought on a heart attack. One of his ribs was broken and has punctured a lung. I'm so sorry." The girls stood up and hugged my mother. All three broke out in tears.

I stared down at the floor while William walked over to the window, looked out for a few seconds then walked back. "What does this mean?" he asked the Doctor.

"It means we will make him comfortable, but because of his age, I don't think he will survive the night. You all may go in and see him." He opened the wide grey door, holding it for my mother.

Everyone followed behind her, but as I crossed the threshold, the doctor stopped me. "Only close family members, I'm sorry."

To him I looked eighteen and obviously not the son of a sixty eight year old man. William stopped, and turned around. "He's my son," he said with a wink and smirk for me.

I shook my head at him, and then followed the others into the room.

It was hard to look at my father's deformed face. He was lying in the large hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beeped loudly beside him,. The white blankets pulled up to his neck made him appear small and frail. This man did not look like my father, who was the strongest person I knew. He built an empire and stood by me when I needed it the most. I'm not sure another father would have done the same.

In an attempt to hide my tears, I leaned against the window playing with the curtains, trying to disguise my purpose, by actually doing something helpful.

"Is there a Nathaniel Riley here?" a nurse with a nametag that said Margret poked her head in the doorway.

My family, who were sitting in chairs beside the bed pointed to me. She handed me a note with my name on it. "It was in the pocket of his coat," she said nodding to my father, and then she quietly slipped out of the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Everyone turned to me with curious expressions on their faces.

I opened up the folded paper and read aloud: "No one tells me what to do.

Don't bother looking for me, I've left town. But I'll be seeing you again, Rowan."

After I found my father, I was so worried about him and the news that followed, that I forgot all about Rowan. I was responsible for everything, now this note brought back the guilt and anger. I ripped up the letter and threw it in the trash can beside the bed.

"What does that mean? Who is Rowan, Nathaniel?" my mother asked, approaching me.

I lifted my head, gazing into her hazel eyes. She was still quite beautiful for her age, her honey brown hair was now streaked with silver, and there were extra wrinkles around her eyes, but other than that she looked the same as she did thirty years ago. "This is my fault Mother. I should never have kept in contact with the family. If I hadn't, Father would still be alive."

My mother placed her hands on my face. "Don't you say that. We are Rileys; we don't give up on family. Tell me what happened." She returned to her chair beside Mary, and took hold of my father's hand, turning her attention to me.

I cleared my throat, hesitating. All eyes were on me, waiting for an explanation, the scene was too familiar. An image of a similar event from thirty years ago popped into my head. "A man named Rowan visited me about a month ago. He said he followed me home the night before." I didn't tell them that I had killed a man. I couldn't take the disappointment on their faces. "He was a werewolf, and he was worried that if I killed people like he did, we would draw too much attention. I told him I wouldn't be any trouble because I didn't take human lives." I paused, feeling sweat forming on my forehead.

"After he left, I became worried he would cause trouble. I started watching for deaths in the newspaper, and I found four that were labeled as animal attacks. I knew it was Rowan, and I knew that the police wouldn't be able to stop him. I decided to track him down. I found him in an alleyway just in time to prevent him from murdering a young girl. I told him to stop the killings or leave, and if he didn't, I would find a way to stop him. So now, because of me, Father is going to die."

My mother's sigh was heavy with the night's events. "It is not your fault Nathaniel. You did the right thing by trying to stop him. You can't take responsibility for other people's behavior," my mother said, standing up and closing the gap between us.

"Nathaniel," my father whispered. All our eyes turned to him as he struggled to sit up. William rushed over and helped him lean against the pillows.

My mother took my hand and guided me over to her husband. He motioned me closer with his fragile finger; I leaned in just above his head. "It's not your fault. I'm proud of you," he said so softly I barely heard him. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then slowly re-opened them. It seemed to be a struggle for him to stay awake. He glanced at each of my siblings with a tired smile on his deformed face. "I love you all. Each one of my children have made me proud." Then focusing on my mother, he whispered, "I love you." My mother didn't get a chance to repeat his words, before his eyes closed.

The machine stopped beating, and the screen above it showed the bumpy line turn flat.

"No!" my mother cried, jumping up and lying across him. "Philip please don't leave me."

William rushed out of the room to get help. He was only gone a minute when he returned with Dr. Allen. But all the doctor did was turn off the machine. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, patting my mother gently on the back, and then he walked slowly out of the room, leaving us alone with my father.

William and the girls huddled near the bed, saying their goodbyes. I walked back over to the window feeling empty. My father made me what I was. He wouldn't give up on me when I wanted to. He saved my life. And now he was dead and it was entirely my fault.

"Don't do that." I heard my mother say.

I turned to see who she was speaking to. She was staring at me. She stepped slowly over to me, wiping the tears off of her cheeks, her honey brown hair falling into her eyes. "Don't you dare blame yourself, you didn't do this, any of this. You didn't choose to be what you are. You didn't hurt your father. And if you blame yourself, you are disrespecting his memory. He loved you and was so proud of you. You made something of yourself despite what happened. You could have given up and you almost did." My eyes widened in surprise. She nodded. "Yes, I know what happened between the two of you the first night you changed. And if you try that again, you'll have me to deal with."

"Mother, what are you talking about?" Mary asked. She resembled our mother in so many ways, her hair and eye color, even facial expression, but Mary was much taller than her. She inherited that from our father.

My mother turned to her. "The first night-"she began.

"Mother don't," I said, not wanting my siblings to know what I tried to do.

She spun back around to stare at me with narrowed eyes, daring me to stop her. I knew when not to mess with her. I held my tongue and let her tell them the story.

She sat down on her chair and faced my sisters and brother. Not wanting to see their reactions, I stared out the window, watching the rain fall down heavily onto the buildings below. The streets were busy with people running for shelter, or their awaiting buggies and autocars.

"The first night Nathaniel changed, your father found him outside running into the woods, with a pistol in his hand. He was going to kill himself." I heard three gasps, two female, one male. I turned away from the window and gazed down at the floor. "Your father pushed the gun away just in time, but the bullet went into Nathaniel's shoulder. It healed right before their eyes, as if by magic. Your father and I were always worried that he would finally find a way to finish what he started." She turned from them, and looked up at me. "He was so proud of you. Please don't blame yourself. I won't stand for it."

I nodded, still looking down at the floor. The dull linoleum was marred and aged. I heard footsteps, and then felt two sets of arms embrace me, and the smell of floral perfume told me that it was my sisters.

"Don't ever try that again." I heard Rose say, although her voice was muffled from her face resting against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around them taking comfort in their warmth.

Together we joined hands to say goodbye to the man that we called Father, a man who meant something different to all of us.

My father was buried in Creekford. Most of the town's people came out to show how much he meant to them. It was crowded and I couldn't help but remember the last time I had stood in this graveyard thirty years ago. During the sermon I glanced over at Lucy's grave and tried to picture her face. However, time was not my friend, and I couldn't picture her in my mind.

William told the town's people that I was his son and had been away at university. His actual son stayed away so I could be there to say goodbye. Everyone remarked on the resemblance between me and the son that had died thirty years ago. Eventually after I left, my father had to tell people I died in an accident. There was no other way to explain my absence.

He was placed beside my empty grave. The other side was reserved for my mother.

Gradually one by one, my family members died. In my father's will he had left the company to William and me. William was allowed to pass on his share to his three sons, but I was always to remain the silent partner. I became the Riley family secret.

# Chapter Fourteen

### Sadie

February, 1968

"Here is the list of standard questions." I handed off the paper as I took a seat at the end of my great, great nephew's desk. John was a descendent of Mary's and we were preparing for interviews. I was walking him through the process.

I was in Chicago, opening one of our department stores. It was still my job to move from city to city to open and train employees and family members. Then I'd move on to the next town or city when they were capable enough to handle it on their own. It was a perfect job for a werewolf that would never age.

John took the list; the paper shook as his hand almost touched mine. His hazel eyes, refused to look at me.

"You are safe with me, I will not hurt you," I said to reassure him. His father had just told him the day before what I truly was, and he was still a little apprehensive, which was a shame. John and I had become friends a year ago when we broke ground for the store. His father Emanuel was to run the business so he didn't feel it was necessary for John to find out yet. Except last week after Emanuel had broken his leg, he was forced to tell his son the truth.

John took a deep breath and looked up at me, as if searching for something. He was silent for several seconds before a grin spread across his face. "I bet I'll still beat you," he said, his eyes held only a small amount of fear.

I laughed. He was referring to our ongoing basketball games that we played during lunch in the parking lot. "If I used all my reflexes John, you wouldn't even see me move." My face was serious, and John's eyes widened in fear. But when I slowly grinned, he smiled, giving me a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Anyway, back to business. The first batch of applicants will be coming in a few minutes, and I want you to familiarize yourself with the questions. I don't want them to think I'm in charge. I'm just your nephew, wanting to get some experience for my resume." I paused as he glanced at the paper. "Can you handle this?" For some reason his father worried he couldn't, but I had faith in him.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Piece of cake." He was twenty-five and the ink had barely dried on his business diploma. But he had something a degree couldn't give him, charm and ambition. With those two traits he would succeed. He reminded me a little bit of my father.

A sharp knock sounded on the office door, and John stiffened in his chair. I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Breathe John. You can do this."

His smile was appreciative. "Thank you Nathaniel." He took a deep breath and said, "Come in."

Mrs. Murphy, our plump, redheaded secretary popped her head inside, bringing with her, the scent of cherries. "There is a Miss Natalie Reed here to see you," she said glancing between us. She didn't know my secret, but she had suspicions. I was always cooped up in the office with all the department heads and she often looked curious when someone would come to me with a question. My usual response was that I'd ask my uncle Emanuel, until we were behind closed doors where I could be myself. It was difficult to keep up the ruse all the time.

John glanced down at the schedule that sat in front of him on the shiny, mahogany desk. "Please send her in Mrs. Murphy."

Her smile was warm as she nodded, and just before closing the door, she gave me a wink.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching my jean clad legs out in front of me as any eighteen year old boy would do, and glanced one last time at John. He was organizing the papers on his desk so he could see them all, and then straightened his blue striped tie. He was wearing a navy blue pin striped suit, which was a contrast to his pale blond hair--a Riley trait that most males in the family inherit. His nerves were visible to me, until the door opened. His smile was confident and welcoming as Natalie, a twenty year old university student, entered the room.

She was tall and wiry, wearing a white peasant blouse and a long flowing floral skirt. Her long raven-black hair almost reached her waist, and she smelled like cinnamon. "Mr. Riley?" she asked John, giving me a quick uninterested glance.

"Yes," he said, taking the hand she stretched out. "And this is my nephew, Nate." He gestured to me, with a grin.

Once John leaned back in his chair, she shook my hand, her face a neutral expression. Taking the chair in front of the desk, she sat her bag on the carpeted floor next to her.

John cleared his throat, gazing down at the questions I had given him, and then glanced quickly at her resume that was also on the crowded desk. His face was an odd shade of red. "So, Natalie, I see here that you worked on the corner?" I coughed loudly, stifling a laugh. His eyes widened shooting me a look that reminded me of a bug eyed gold fish. It only made me want to laugh harder. Luckily, I was able to suppress it, shifting in my seat. "I'm so sorry...I meant to say Corner's Grocery Store," he said peeking up at her, his face flushed with embarrassment.

She simply smiled at him, ignoring me altogether. "Yes, I had to quit when I started school, but I would like something part time, and closer to the university."

"Okay...well...um," he stammered. This was not good, and it was just going downhill. But even after his disastrous beginning, I knew he could do this. I cleared my throat, in attempt to let him know that I was here and to calm down. It was all I could do. John paused and nodded, obviously in understanding. "Would you say you are a team player?"

Natalie thought for a moment before responding. "Yes, I would. I worked very well with others in all of my jobs, and have lots of group settings at school where I am studying to be a teacher."

His eyes flicked so quickly to the paper that I knew she didn't notice. Only someone with my heightened sight would. "What do you think is your best trait?"

She smiled, brushing her long, raven hair off of her shoulder, her cinnamon scent stirred in the air. "My personality. I am very friendly and often get to know the customers by name."

"It says here you would like to work evenings and weekends. How many shifts a week would you like to work?"

"Three if it's possible. Two weeknights and Saturday would be ideal."

He went on, stiffly asking questions that she answered well, smiling where appropriate, appearing serious and confident when needed. Finally, with all the questions asked, we all shook hands, and she left the office with a smile.

A few seconds after the door closed, John stood up and shook his head. "God that was brutal. I can't do this, Nate." I could sense his fear and embarrassment.

Sitting up in my chair, I said, "Yes you can, you might not believe it, but I do. I have confidence in you."

"Why?"

"Because you're a Riley, we thrive under pressure. Besides, you remind me of my father, and he was good at everything."

My words must have convinced him, because he sighed heavily. "Fine, call in the next one." He took his seat while I opened the door to inform Mrs. Murphy that we were ready. The door closed behind me with a soft click.

For the next hour we interviewed two men and two women. Once the Natalie debacle was behind John, he seemed to find his stride. After Stephen Peterson left, who was applying for the hardware department manager's job, we took a break for lunch. Instead of shooting hoops though, we went over the applicants. We both agreed that Natalie would be a great asset but the other girl, didn't have the experience we were looking for.

Just as I took the last bite of my sandwich, Mrs. Murphy announced the next applicant. When the door creaked open, I froze, all the hairs on my body stood on end. It was a werewolf, and my first thought was Rowan, the second was to protect John. I stood in front of him ready, fists clenched, body rigid. Last time Rowan acted as a coward, going behind my back and killing my father, this time he'd have to face me. "Stay behind me," I growled. My voice had changed, it was deeper, wild sounding, and I knew my eyes must have changed as well.

"Nate, what's wrong?" John asked just as a teenage girl bounced into the office.

Her chestnut colored hair was tied in two braids hanging over her shoulders. She was wearing blue hip huggers and a pink knit top. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide, and her nostrils flared as if she was sniffing the air. She was the werewolf I smelled. Knowing Rowan was not in the building did nothing to calm me. "John, can you excuse us please." My voice was tense, but the growl had disappeared.

"What's going on Nate?' John's voice shook with worry and confusion.

"Just go please."

He did as I asked, glancing curiously at the girl.

When the door closed behind him, she smiled widely. "Let me guess, you've never met another werewolf before." She fell into the awaiting chair, crossing one knee over the other, swaying her foot back and forth. She beamed up at me; her brown eyes alight with secrets. She seemed so cheerful and not at all like any werewolf I'd met so far, which was all of two. But maybe this cute little girl act, was just that, an act.

"Who are you?" I asked accusingly, my eyes narrowing.

She spun around in the chair, her grin still on her face. "You have my resume, you already know my name." Her voice was sweet and charming. I did not want to like this girl.

Her words confused me. "You're applying for a job here?"

"What, you don't think werewolves have to make a living? I have to eat don't I?" Again, her foot swayed back and forth, distracting me.

"Do you know Rowan?" I asked, bringing my attention back to her face, which was round, and cherub-like. I watched her eyes for a spark of recognition. There was none, but I wasn't convinced yet. And even if she didn't know him, I knew she couldn't be trusted.

"Who?" she replied, her brow creased in confusion.

"He is a werewolf that wants to harm me. Don't tell me you don't know him."

Leaning forward she picked up the wolf paperweight Emanuel had given me as a joke. She held it in her hand and examined it quickly before returning it to its spot on the desk. "I'm sorry but I don't. It's not as though every werewolf knows each other."

"Fine, you don't know him, but you can't work here."

Her eyes widened, a look of shock crossing her face. "Why? Do you have a policy against werewolves? Because I hate to tell you this, but you are one." Her innocent demeanor was endearing, and quite frankly a little confusing.

My lip twitched, fighting a smile. "I am aware of that, thank you." I opened my mouth to interrogate her some more, when a knock sounded on the door. It was John. I could smell his minty scent through the wooden door and I knew I couldn't keep him out any longer. I took my seat once again. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, his head popped in, his light hair falling into his hazel eyes. "Everything okay in here?"

"Yes John, come on in."

He gazed at me, his eyes full of questions. I shook my head, and he continued to his chair behind the desk. He cleared his throat. "So, should I continue with the interview?"

Sadie replied, "Yes," at the same time I said, "No."

The girls head spun around to face me. "What?" she asked incredulously.

"You are not right for this job, I'm sorry."

"Can you tell me why, what is your problem with me?" She asked and then glanced at John who was leaning back in his chair, looking confused.

I pressed my lips together, and closed my eyes for a few seconds. I felt like I was dealing with a small child who wouldn't behave. "Sadie, you know why," I replied when I opened my eyes.

"No I don't. Enlighten me. What is your name anyway?"

"It's Nate, and my reasons don't matter, I can refuse to hire anyone I want."

Her gaze shifted from John to me. "Really? Because, you're just a teenager, he's the one in charge." She pointed to John. She was really starting to irritate me. "What do you think Mr. Riley?" She asked, her arms crossed in front of her. "You are the one in charge here right?" Her words were challenging. She knew what I was, and that I was more than I pretended to be, but she also knew that John could not say anything.

John glanced at me, with a look that could only be described as a deer in the headlights.

An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. "Fine. Go ahead."

"Okay." John said, before he began the standard questions.

Sadie was polite, giving all the right answers, and then described her work experience, which was impressive. If she was a normal teenage girl she'd be the perfect part time help. But we both knew she wasn't.

"Well Miss Clark we will be in touch," John said, shaking her hand at the end of the interview.

I remained seated, glaring at her.

She stood in front of me with her arm stretched out, a pleasant smile on her lips. Did anything bother this girl? I reached out to take her hand. Her skin was warm and soft, until she squeezed. I could feel the strength in her hand and fingers. The grip was not hard enough to crush my fingers, but just enough to crack my knuckles. Her expression did not change; the same sweet smile was plastered on her face. My instinct was to squeeze back, but she was just a girl, at least she appeared to be, and I was still a gentleman. Instead I pulled my hand out of her strong grip, showing nothing on my face that she had hurt my hand. I suppressed the urge to shake my fingers.

She curtsied dramatically with her trademark grin and then slipped out, leaving both my nephew and me gaping at the closed door.

"What the hell was that about?" John asked, his mouth hanging open.

I shook my head, bewildered by the girl. "You don't want to know."

# Chapter Fifteen

### A New Friend

It was a long day of interviews and I was thankful when five o'clock rolled around.

"Do you want to go out for a bite to eat?" John asked, as he packed his black leather briefcase with papers. "I'll sneak you a beer." His eyes lit up with amusement, all the fear from earlier, evaporated.

I laughed, in reality I was three times his age, but I didn't look old enough to drink. "No thanks, I have some paperwork to get to." I packed up a pile of files, stuffing them into a navy backpack. I couldn't use a briefcase like John did. What teenager walked around with a briefcase? "See you tomorrow," I called over my shoulder as we parted outside the office. He was heading to the back where the parking garage was located. Since I had parked out front, I headed through the store, noting the workers finishing off shelves while others stocked the ones that were finished. We were opening in one month and so far everything was on schedule.

As soon as I stepped out into the cold February evening, my senses tingled. Her scent wafted into my nostrils, overriding the smell of exhaust from the cars as commuters were heading home from work. I tensed more out of habit than fear. "What do you want Sadie?" I asked, looking straight ahead as a red Boxter slowed in the street in front of me. I knew she was next to me leaning against the building. I stepped up to the curb where my car was parked.

"I want to know why you have a problem with me." Her voice carried over a horn honking and the voices of pedestrians passing us on the sidewalk.

I sighed, feeling tried. She really was a pain in the butt. "Call me crazy, but I don't hire killers." I spun around to face her. She looked the same as she had earlier, but now her face was bright red from the cold. "It's a policy we have."

Shock clouded her usually cheerful face. "You think I would kill someone?" Her breath puffed from the chill in the air.

"You are a werewolf, that's what we do."

"I don't, I never have." She took a step closer, placing her gloved hand on my arm. "Have you?" Her voice was not accusatory; it was full of understanding and compassion

I looked away from her, ashamed. "I don't have time for this, I have to get home. I have paperwork to get to."

She pulled her hand away. "Okay, let's go. I'm awesome at paperwork."

I simply gaped at her as she stepped around the car, opened the passenger side door, and climbed in. "Are you coming?" she called through the closed window.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I pulled open my door, tired of arguing with her.

When we pulled up to my house fifteen minutes later, Sadie stared out the car window. "You live all the way out here?" I had found this small house just on the outskirts of the city. It was a small blue sided one level house, with a small porch stretched across the front. The best part of this location was that it backed onto woodland that would never be developed, since it came with the house.

I nodded. "Yes, this is my home." I turned off the ignition and reached for my stuff.

She had already jumped out of the car, and was wandering around the property. "You own all of this?" she called from the edge of the lawn. She was staring into the trees, a look of awe on her face.

Her enthusiasm was endearing. "Yes, I own as far as you can see."

She grinned, her face flush with excitement. "How is the animal life?"

Her excitement was contagious, and I felt my lips turn up into a smile. "Plentiful."

"You are so lucky. You can let your wolf run free any time you want." She was quiet for a few moments, taking in the view before us. Finally, she turned to me, her eyes bright. "I live in a tiny apartment. On the full moon nights I have to change behind a dumpster and run thirty miles to the nearest ravine. I don't have enough money for a car." She paused, taking one last longing glance at the woods, before turning around, and heading for the front of my house. I followed her, watching her delicate steps through the lawn. Her small feet left footprints in the frosty grass. Was she truly as innocent as she appeared to be?

Clomping up the porch steps she turned to me. "So, are you making dinner? I'm starving."

After sliding the key into the lock, I pushed open the door and stepped aside so she could enter. "Why don't I also run you a bubble bath?" I said, with my voice as sarcastic as I could make it.

She glanced around taking in the surroundings of the house when she turned to me. "Sure, that sounds great." Her eyes held a glint of humor.

My only response was to scowl.

Her lips twitched. "I'm kidding. I'll go if you don't want me here." She stared at me innocently, her eyes pleading. How could I turn her away? She reminded me of a stray puppy dog.

"Fine, you can stay for dinner. Make yourself at home." I hadn't even gotten the words out, before she tossed her bag onto the sofa, and sprawled onto a chair.

Ignoring her, I pulled the papers out of my bag, placing them on my desk, and then began to prepare a couple of steaks. I liked them rare, and I knew my guest would as well. After I cleaned the potatoes, I put them in the oven and grabbed two drinks out of the fridge. I handed her one, before taking a seat in the chair across from her. "So tell me about yourself. Do you live alone? Do you still have family? Why don't you have money for a car?"

She twisted the lid off of her juice, and grinned before taking a sip. Once she swallowed she said, "Yes, I live alone. Yes I still have family, but they think I'm dead so I stay away. And I don't have a car because I look like a teenager, and can't get a better job. I still go to high school for crying out loud."

Surprised by this, my eyes widened. "You do?"

She spun the bottle cap on the coffee table, and nodded. "Yeah, I got tried of hearing people nag me about school, so I go. If I had money I'd go to college. That would be fun. I've been to three different high schools, and have had it up to here with graduation ceremonies, but not once have I been able to go to college." She sighed leaning back onto the plush brown sofa.

Remembering something that she had said earlier I asked, "Why does your family think you're dead?"

She sighed, playing with the material of her pants. "It's a long story; do you really want to hear it?"

"We've got time, those potatoes will take forever." I leaned back in my chair, drawing lines in the condensation on my bottle.

"Okay then, here goes. I lived in New York with my family. We were quite well off, my parents are both lawyers. My brother was in university studying law and I was seventeen and in high school, getting straight A's. You see, I was also going to follow in the family footsteps. I took all the prerequisites needed for law in preparation." She paused, a look of sadness crossing her face. "But all my work and studying was for nothing, because a few months after I turned seventeen, I got sick. At first we thought it was the flu, but it lasted for months. After about the fourth doctor telling me that all I needed was rest, my parents took me to a specialist. We found out that I didn't have the flu...it was Leukemia. And I was too far gone for any medicine to help."

My heart went out to her and her family. A few of my family members had died from cancer, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

She changed her position on the couch, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees. "I was in the hospital for months. By the end, I could barely breathe. I had made friends with a young doctor named Miles. He used to visit me, bringing me books, magazines and candy, even though I couldn't keep anything down. One night, after my family left to go home and change clothes, he came to see me. I knew I didn't have much time left, and I was actually hoping for death, anything to ease the pain."

A tear fell down her cheek, and my heart ached for her. "What happened?" I whispered.

"He brought us in some sodas and chips, to watch a movie on the television. When the movie ended, and the screen went black, the room was dark. I couldn't see his face. But he whispered something to me."

"What?" I asked softly, captivated by her tale.

"He said 'How badly do you want to be cured?' I told him I wanted it more than anything. Then he asked me if I was willing to leave my family forever. I didn't want that, I loved them dearly, but if I died, I wouldn't see them anyway. I asked him what he meant and then he explained, but first he told me that I couldn't tell a soul, not even my parents. Once I made my promise, he told me that he was a werewolf and by biting me, it would cure me of all ailments. Then he explained that I would never age and I'd turn into a wolf once a month or by will, if I chose it." She paused, lifting her feet up onto the coffee table.

I cringed at the sight of her mud caked Mary Janes, resting on my mahogany table.

"I agreed, not entirely believing his story, but at that point I was so weak I couldn't think straight. He took me that night, carrying me in his arms. It was in the middle of the night and no one noticed. Later I found out he faked my death telling them that I was already sent to the crematorium. He took me to a hunting lodge where he retreated once a month for the full moon, and then he turned into a wolf. I was so groggy with fatigue and pain that it barely fazed me. The bite didn't even hurt.

"After that he taught me everything about what I had become. He hid me in the cabin and on weekends would bring me provisions and news on my family. He was really kind to me. I will never forget him."

"Where is he now?" I asked. "Why aren't you still with him?"

"He found his mate. And after everything he did for me, I felt like I was in the way, so I moved on. He gave me money and a car, but it died about a year ago. I've been a bit of a drifter ever since."

I realized by listening to her story that I really didn't know much about werewolves. "What do mean, his mate?"

"Don't you know anything about werewolves?" she asked, echoing my thoughts.

"Not much."

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, I smelled the potatoes, and I knew it was time to put the steaks on. "Keep talking, I'm listening."

I stepped into my small kitchen. She followed me, and leaned against the door frame. I pulled the steaks out of the refrigerator and placed them to broil for a few minutes just to brown the outside.

While I finished preparing the meal and we sat down to eat, she explained everything she knew about werewolves, starting with a wolf's mate. Apparently every werewolf has one, and finds them by scent. It's a smell engrained into your soul so when you catch the scent you know that person belongs to you. Once you find them, you won't ever be able to leave them. The concept was not something I ever wanted to happen. I've tried to keep people away from me, because of Rowan. If he ever heard that I had found my mate, he wouldn't be able to resist punishing me by hurting her. And after Charlotte killed Lucy, I vowed to never get involved again. It was too painful to lose someone I cared about.

Next, Sadie told me to avoid silver. Evidently, all the legends were true. It won't kill a werewolf unless a silver bullet pierces the head or heart. But it burns at the touch. If for some reason silver gets under your skin, get it out. If it is lodged in your body long enough it will kill you.

The images her story created were not appealing. I made a note to stay away from anything silver.

"And that's all I can think of to tell you," she said shoveling potatoes into her mouth.

I watched her as she gobbled her food, as if she hadn't eaten in a week. "When is the last time you ate?"

"Not since breakfast."

"That's dangerous. You need to eat more often."

"I know. I'm the one that's never killed before, remember?" I flinched at the reminder. "I was waiting for you so I missed lunch."

I didn't answer her, instead, took a drink of juice.

"So why do you hate werewolves so much? That's odd, since you are one."

I took a deep breath and told her my whole story, starting when I was first turned. I told her about Lucy, about how I wanted to marry her. I told her about my father and how much he helped me. And finally about Rowan, and how he killed him.

"Wow," she said when I finished my story. We were done eating and she was helping me clean the dishes. "No wonder you freaked out when you met me. That Rowan guy sounds awful."

The scent of oranges from the dish soap drifted out of the sink. "He is, and if I ever see him again, I will kill him." My voice was fierce, full of conviction.

She wiped a plate off with a towel. "Well, you'll need a gun with silver bullets for that."

"Do you know where to get some?" I asked, setting the last dish on the tray, and wiping my hands on her towel.

She shook her head as she placed the last plate in the cupboard. "No, never needed any. I've only ever known Miles and he was so great to me. I'm sorry for what's happened to you." Her voice was full of warmth, and compassion.

"Thank you." She was so sweet and kind, I wondered more about her life. "How old are you anyway?"

She grinned. "Compared to you, I'm a baby. I'm twenty five. It was eight years ago that I was turned."

I smiled. "You are young."

She laughed and looked outside, it was dark, thick snowflakes were falling, and a soft blanket of snow covered the ground. "Do mind if I crash on your couch? I don't want to go out in that." She pointed out the window.

"Sure, you can have the spare room."

She kissed me on the cheek, and that sentiment was the last straw. It was inevitable. Even though I tried to keep people at a distance, I couldn't with Sadie. In the last few hours, Sadie Clark had managed to slither her way into my heart. I would look after her, and help her in any way I could.

# Chapter Sixteen

### The Roommate

"Is this the necklace you gave Lucy?" Sadie asked as we were going through some of my boxes in order to clear out room for her stuff. We had been friends for over a month now and had experienced one full moon together. I truly enjoyed have company on that night, we changed a few times after that just for fun.

I had asked her to move in, and be my housemate a few weeks ago, but she kept saying no, she didn't want to take advantage of me. But I finally wore her down and convinced her that it was silly for her to live in her crappy little apartment when she was always at my house.

She wasn't budging on my offer to send her to college though, but I wasn't finished with that. I wanted her to be happy, and I knew she would be, going to law school.

I glanced over the pile of boxes in front of me, and saw that she was holding the blue velvet box. "Be careful, that's-" I didn't get the words out before she touched the setting around the stone. I could hear the sizzle as the silver burned her finger from where I sat. "Silver," I finished as she cringed in pain. The scent of burnt flesh filled the small room.

She laughed, sticking her finger into her mouth. "Now you tell me," she mumbled around her finger. "What's this?" she asked leaning over to pick up a small box, marked Riley House.

"Don't touch that," I yelled.

She froze with the box teetering on her hand. "What's in it?" she asked softly.

My face flushed with embarrassment. I hadn't intended to yell, but I hadn't looked in that box since my father died.

"It's just an idea I had back in the twenties, I forgot about it after Rowan killed my father."

She held the box in one hand, with a look of curiosity on her face. "So can I look in it?"

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my agreement.

As soon as I agreed she tore into it, going through the files. "What is this Nate?" she asked, a look of admiration on her face.

Once again, I was embarrassed. "As you know I've killed twice." She nodded. "Well, after the second time, I helped out the wife of my victim to lessen some of the guilt. It eased my conscience a little, but I came up with that idea to further help others. Just that one person wasn't enough. I have so much, when others have so little, so I want to do my part. And it was my hope that with every life I help it will ease the burden of guilt that I carry. I know it's selfish, but it's the only thing I could think of to make up for what I've done."

She gaped at me, her chocolate eyes as big as tires. "Selfish? You think opening a home for people in need, to provide them with food, and help them turn their lives around is selfish?"

"My motives are selfish," I explained.

"Who cares why you help people, all that matters is that you do." She smiled. "Why didn't you do this?"

"After Rowan killed my father, I just couldn't think of much other than work."

She was quiet for awhile shuffling boxes.

I got up and started moving the remaining crates into the attic. By the time I came back, the room was clear and she was starting to put her stuff away. "I think we should do it."

We had been quiet for so long, both of us puttering away, that I didn't know what she meant. "Do what?" I asked absently.

"We should build Riley House. I want to help you."

"I don't know if I have time. I'm busy with work."

She frowned, blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. "That's just an excuse. The store opened last week, and John's father is back. Isn't it your job just to open stores? Now that that's done, your job is finished here. Let's do this. It's such a good idea." She practically squealed with excitement. Her enthusiasm was contagious, I couldn't say no.

For the next couple of months, Sadie and I were busy looking for places to house our charity. We needed a house big enough to accommodate at least twelve people. Our idea was to find volunteers to serve food, and to help with those in need. We would provide homes for people currently in need of one, and put them up until they could get back on their feet. We were even planning on helping them find jobs. Sadie was very helpful with all the planning, and wanted to stop going to school, so she could help run it.

"You look too young. No one will believe that you could run a place like this," I said on the afternoon that we found the perfect house.

"Are you kidding me? I can look older, I just haven't tried." It was hard to believe, since she always styled her hair in braids, and usually wore jeans and rock band t-shirts.

"Come on, I really want to do this. We can be a team." I could never resist her, when she whined like that. She had become like a sister to me in such a short time. She was closer to me than any of my extended family, and like my real younger sisters, I could never deny her.

"Fine, we'll do it together."

We hired contractors to renovate the house to accommodate our needs and started shopping for furniture. This was Sadie's favorite part.

"God, I love spending someone else's money." She said two months later, after we had finished buying everything. The house was finished and we were getting ready to open the next week.

We were sitting in the living room watching TV, relaxing after a long day of shopping. We had just finished eating, and we were each enjoying a bowl of ice cream. It was a comfort to have someone else around all the time. I had been a loner for way too long.

"Did you contact Marjorie?" I asked her. Marjorie was the social worker who was working with Sadie to find the people that would benefit the most by staying at the house. We were looking for specific people. They had to want help, want to find a job and a place to live. Riley House was supposed to be more then just a homeless shelter. We wanted to help people get out of the situation they were in.

Sadie held up her ice cream covered spoon and pointed it at me. "Yes I did, and she found the last of the residents. They are prepared to move in next week."

I swallowed a bite of my chocolate ice cream, and nodded. "Good."

She stared at me, her lips in a half smile, her eyes intense.

"What?" I asked, a little uncomfortable with the expression on her face.

"I'm so glad I met you." Her voice was filled with emotion. "I was lost, a drifter, after I left Miles. And I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."

My heart swelled in my chest, because I felt the same way. I had people in my life, but they couldn't understand me the way she did. "I'm glad I met you too." My voice was raspy, filled with emotion. "Even if you are a pain in the butt sometimes." I laughed at my own joke, and she joined me.

Between her high-pitched laughter, she froze. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

I had heard something. Tires on gravel? We both stayed silent listening, but there was no other sound. Suddenly the door burst open, and a shot rang out. Sadie slumped onto the floor; her bowl and spoon fell onto the sofa. The scent of blood entered my nostrils.

I spun around to face our intruder, and came face to face with Rowan and the barrel of a gun. "Told you I'd be back," he said, just before the gun exploded in his hands.

# Chapter Seventeen

### The Brother

I came to slowly; my mind was groggy, filled with cotton. I didn't know where I was or what was happening. All I could do was lie still, my breathing was labored, and I couldn't move. The tug of unconsciousness started to pull me back under, until I felt a sharp searing pain in my chest. It felt like my insides were on fire. I heard a moan that sounded far away. As my mind cleared I realized it was me that made the noise.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." An unfamiliar male voice said, it was deep with a hint of an accent. Irish maybe?

Even with my groggy brain and aching body, I caught the whiff of werewolf. Another one! I shot up into a sitting position and opened my heavy eyelids. Instantly the pain in my chest throbbed, sending me back down onto what? Where was I? I glanced around now that my eyes were open, and saw the tan walls of my own bedroom filled with black and white photos of historical homes. I glanced down and saw my chest was bare except for a large white bandage wrapped around my torso.

I followed the offending scent, and saw a man who appeared to be around my age, maybe a few years older. But of course with my kind, appearance can be deceiving.

Even though he was sitting on a chair next to the bed, I could tell he was tall, even more so than I. He was wearing a worn denim cap, with strands of auburn hair sticking out from under it. His grey eyes were full of concern as he looked me over. "Who are you?" I choked out, my voice barely audible.

He moved closer and held a cold cloth to my forehead. I felt relief instantly, even though I didn't realize I was burning up. "The name is Joseph, but you can call me Joe. I came here looking for you, and I found you on the floor, dying. You were shot with a silver bullet. It was lodged just above your heart. I had a heck of a time getting it out. Do you know who did this to you?"

Now the memory was coming back, sitting on the couch with Sadie, eating ice cream, and the noise. And then..."Rowan," I whispered his name.

"Who?" he asked, his interest peaking.

"He's a werewolf that I stopped from killing a young girl, and ever since then he's been intent on making me suffer, by killing people I love. He killed my father in the twenties. And now...Sadie." Fear gripped my heart, turning it cold. Not Sadie, she's my only family. "Where is she? Is she okay?" I cried, desperate to hear that she was lying on the couch still munching on her vanilla ice cream.

He closed his eyes, his lips pressed into a line. "I'm sorry friend. She's gone. The bullet pierced her heart. We werewolves heal fast, but if the heart is shattered, there's nothing to be done."

I felt pain in my chest again but this time, it wasn't physical. I finally found a person to be close to after so many years of distancing myself from others, and that lunatic took her away from me. Rage filled my entire being, leaving just one thought. "I really want to kill him," I whispered.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him casually. "I don't blame you, but you'll need some silver bullets for that, and they are not easy to come by."

I shook my head, not wanting to hear how hard it would be to get what I wanted. It didn't matter how difficult it was to achieve my goal. I would do whatever it took to see it through. The only thoughts in my head were that Rowan must die.

"I'm sorry friend. It sounds like you've had a bad lot since my sister turned you."

My head spun to face him, making me a little dizzy. "What did you say?"

His hand stretched out and I placed mine into it. He shook it quickly. "The name is Joseph Burns, and I'm Charlotte's brother." He pulled his hand back as I processed what he had said. "Before she bit you, she turned me. But don't worry, I hate the witch." I laughed, and regretted it immediately. The pain was unbearable. "Easy now." He soothed, his hands steadying me. "She told me what she did to you, and I had to make sure you were okay. I don't agree with how she lives."

I liked him instantly. Our hate for his sister gave us a bond. "Where is Sadie?" I asked, my voice sounding a little bit stronger.

"I buried her out back for now. If you want something else for her we can move her."

The image of her family visiting an empty urn came to mind. The best thing for her was to have her cremated and brought back to where she belonged. I would also need to contact Miles, the werewolf that had turned her. If he cared for her half as much as I did, he would want to know. Maybe he could even help me in my quest to avenge her death.

"How long have I been out?" My mouth felt like a paste covered the entire inside of it. "Could I have some water?" I barely got the words out when a glass appeared in front of me. He helped me sit up so I didn't spill any.

"You've been out a day. I don't know how long the silver was inside you, but it was starting to spread. I got the bullet out, but your body needs to extract what remains. That's why you are sweating."

"How do you know all this?"

He pulled the sleeve of his faded denim shirt up, exposing a small circular scar. "Ten years ago, I got into a bit of a brawl, at a pub. You don't mess with werewolves in Ireland."

My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in over a day. Panic began to bubble inside me. No good would come if I was hungry.

"I made some soup. I'll be right back." He stood up and headed for the doorway, where he quickly turned. "By the way, you've had a few calls about Riley House. A lady by the name of Marjorie said that people are waiting." Since he didn't understand Marjorie's words, he shrugged his shoulders before he disappeared into the hallway.

Life was going on around me, even though Sadie was dead, and I felt like I was. The world didn't care that I was in pain and grieving a beloved friend. I was needed and that was all that mattered. I had to get better so I could continue with Riley House. Sadie would have wanted it that way.

Joe's scent along with his footsteps woke me from sleep. I hadn't even realized I had drifted off again. I was just so tired. It was difficult to keep my eyes open. When he stepped into the room, carrying a tray laden with more water, bread, and a large bowl of soup, the scent of chicken and vegetables almost made me drool. He placed the tray on my lap and handed me a spoon. I dove in straight away, and I moaned in appreciation when I swallowed. I couldn't remember being so famished.

"So, Nathaniel, do you know where a werewolf can find some work around here?" Joe asked, his Irish brogue getting thicker the more he spoke.

"Why," I took a break between bites to say. "Are you staying?"

"Yes, Ireland has nothing left for me. Charlotte found me there a few months ago and mentioned you. Told me she killed the one you loved and accidentally turned you. I felt some responsibility because I had sent her away just before you met her. I wasn't able to live the way she did anymore and I told her I never wanted to see her again. If I hadn't done that she wouldn't have ruined your life."

Guilt and self loathing were two emotions I was extremely familiar with. It made me feel even more of a bond with this Irishman. "It's not your fault. I've learned that you cannot blame yourself for other people's actions."

He nodded, his grey eyes filled with emotion, and then he shook his head, and grinned. "Enough of that, I need a job."

"Well, I may be able to help you with that." As he was speaking, an idea formed in my mind. With my new goal to open Riley House and help run it, I wouldn't be able to do my previous job, unless I trained a replacement. And hadn't I thought it was the perfect job for a werewolf? I stared at him; a smile grew on my face.

"What?" he asked, looking a little bit worried?

# Chapter Eighteen

### Creekford

Present Day

One crisp fall afternoon I was just arriving home after my run when I heard my phone ringing.

"Hello?" I asked after I took my cell phone from my pocket.

"Nathaniel?"

"Yes."

"It's Will." Will was my great, great, great nephew.

"How are you?" I opened my fridge to take a water bottle out, the door slammed behind me as I walked into the living room.

"I'm good, but I could use your help with the business, and the charity you started here isn't doing so well. Do you think you could possibly move back home?"

I had been living back at the updated cabin in Baycrest, helping out at the store and setting up my charity here. I was considering moving on since I had been here for five years. People would soon start to notice that I hadn't aged.

"Sure, I guess I could move home. Is it bad?"

"Nothing you can't handle," he said with a chuckle. Will was one of my favorite nephews, and the most like my brother, his namesake.

"What about your children?" I asked, sitting down on the sofa and leaning the phone on my shoulder so I could use both hands to twist the lid off of the bottle.

"I think Lauren is ready. Nathan will learn when he's old enough." It warmed my heart to hear the name, he was named after me.

"There isn't a problem, is there Will?"

The line was silent for a moment and then I heard his soft laughter. "Well no, but you're not supposed to stay longer than five years anyway, and Phillip and I have been fighting over you. He wants you to go there next." Philip, a descendant of Mary's, lived in Rockview. I lived there about fifteen years ago and that usually wasn't enough time: I could still be recognized.

"I can't go there, it hasn't been that long. I'll talk to Richard tomorrow about my leaving. He's got everything under control here anyway. And I'll see you in about a week."

"Great, I'll have your cottage ready for you."

"Thank you Will. And I have missed you."

He sighed. "Me too. What's it like to have your family members fight over you?"

"Annoying," I grumbled.

He laughed. "See you next week."

I tried so hard to keep a distance from my extended family. But they would not let me. Rowan was ever present in my mind. He was a threat to me and my loved ones. That was proven when he killed my father and then Sadie. I have not forgotten my quest to find and kill him, and with Joe's, and Mile's help we have been searching. But after all this time, we still have found nothing.

I did what I had sought out to do. I found where Sadie's family had laid her to rest, and filled the empty urn with her actual remains. After that, I found Miles and told him what happened. We grieved together, having been the only friends she had. He made me a promise to help find the man who killed her.

Joe proved to be a good choice as my replacement. Although I still opened the occasional store, my focus has been on the charity. And I did it in the memory of Sadie Clark.

A week later, I was sitting on the leather sofa in William's office inside the mansion that had once been a quarter of its size, as well as my childhood home. "School?" I asked disgusted, sure I'd heard wrong.

I had wrapped up business with Richard, making sure that Riley House would be taken care of. I appointed Richards's youngest son, Edmund, to run it. He was just as interested as I was in helping people in need.

I packed up the cabin that I had fixed up by adding on to it years ago, and prepared to move home. I never lived in the mansion with the family. My father had a small cottage built for me down by the lake. It wasn't visible from the road, that way no one else would know I was in town. But now that Will was talking about me enrolling in school, the thought of returning to the cabin in Baycrest crept into my mind.

"Yes, you look like a teenager. If we enroll you in school, you can stay longer," he explained, leaning back in his leather chair.

I stood up and paced in front of him. "I've worked with other families before and never attended school."

"Which also raised questions. How many times was there trouble among non-family members because you didn't have to abide by the high school diploma rule?" He set his coffee down on his desk, spilling the brown liquid onto his papers. While he wiped up the mess, I considered his words. It was true that some employees were angry with the managers for hiring me when it was against policy to hire people full time that hadn't finished high school.

"Fine, I'll go. As long as you tell Lauren not to acknowledge me. I won't put her at risk. And I will change my name so no one knows we're related. You know what happened to my father, and Sadie."

"Okay. I'll tell her, but if I do, I'll have to tell her everything," he said tossing his gob of wet tissues into the garbage beside his desk.

"I think she's ready. She's known him for a while now. She can be trusted with the secret," Carolyn, Will's wife said. She was sitting on the couch and had been silent up until now. They had visited me last year and I instantly liked their daughter.

I stared at both of them not sure if this was a step I was ready to take on, but when they nodded, I backed down. After all it was their decision.

The next day I enrolled at Everest High School. It was the biggest school I had ever seen. There were hundreds of kids, with lots of loud voices and strong aromas for my heightened senses. I instantly regretted my decision to listen to Will.

About an hour into the day, I was sitting in my first class, feeling bored as I listened to a man who was prattling on about the second world war, with facts that were actually wrong. I almost corrected him, when I caught a scent. And I recognized it instantly. It was something I had hoped would never happen. It was a part of my nature that I avoided at all cost.

I tried to ignore the scent, and the nagging feeling for me to follow it. I struggled for hours, but by midday the wolf inside me seemed to take over, and I followed it.

I sniffed hard, following the smell down a long corridor. The hall was packed with teenagers. Between the musk cologne, and fruit lip-gloss it was surprising that I had no problem catching the scent I was looking for.

It was wafting out of a closed door with the word cafeteria written in bold letters. I paused outside, hoping I could make myself turn around, forgetting what the smell meant. But as soon as the door swung open, the scent overtook me, and I could no more resist following it, than I could resist breathing. I walked, as if in a trance to the back of the room, oblivious to what was going on around me.

Six students lounged around a table. Three boys and three girls all dressed in the school colors of burgundy and gold. Five sets of eyes turned to me as I stood behind a young woman with strawberry blonde hair. I could only see the back of her as she listened to a tall boy with ink-black hair relating a tale of a boring football play. The girl next to her with long chestnut hair and dangling silver earrings elbowed her in the arm. I stood still, unable to move.

She slowly turned around, and stared at me with bright green eyes. I took in her face: the freckles that dotted her small buttoned nose and cheekbones, her slightly rosy cheeks. Her full pale pink lips started to turn upward into a smile that I would remember forever.

I finally regained my wits, bolting out of the cafeteria, and out the door of the school. I walked fast trying not to draw attention to myself; needing to put as much distance between me and the girl I knew I had to stay away from. The girl that I later learned was named Megan Banks.

###

A sneak peak of Riley's Secret, A Moon's Glow Novel. Available now at Smashwords

# Prologue

Present Day

The young man stood in the open meadow under the full moons glow. His clothes were folded neatly on an oversized tree stump. He knew what would happen when the moon shone freely, but tonight the reluctant monster welcomed the change. Normally, he avoided the call of his wild side at all costs. However, every excruciating pain, pull and tearing of his limbs was worth it, because it would bring him closer to her.

When the transformation was complete, all signs of the young man had disappeared, only a majestic wolf remained. He tipped his head up to face the moon, and let out a chilling howl, that stopped suddenly as one thought entered the wolfs mind. It was his only one as he raced through the woodland, jumping over brush, under growth, and over-turned logs. He revelled in the speed and strength he felt in his limbs, allowing himself to enjoy the run. He scented a rabbit, a squirrel and even a deer, but he was not concerned with food at the moment, that would come later. His need was over powering, taking away all other thoughts.

His paws thundered over the well worn trail, this was not the first night he had taken the journey. The trail was miles long, but with his obsessed mind, he made it to his destination in no time. Finally he broke from the trees, and emerged onto a well manicured lawn. He wasn't concerned at being discovered. His mind was too far gone to be cautious.

The grey stone mansion stood above him towering on the crest of a hill. He raced up to it, his paws digging into the abundant grass, taking his usual position, next to a cedar bush. The smell of the flowers from the garden whirled around him momentarily mixing with the only scent that mattered. Once he caught it, he followed it to the glass patio door. Cream colored curtains were parted in the center, and he peered through, knowing what he would see. His heart raced with anticipation.

There she was lying in her bed, her pale blue duvet pulled up to her neck, her fiery locks cascading over the soft feathery pillow. The wolf yearned to touch the silky strands, knowing it would feel so soft in his hands, but the man inside knew it could never happen.

#

#

#

# 

# Chapter One

### The Football Field

I remember the first time I realized I didn't belong in my family. The three of us were in the back of our limo, stopped at a stop sign, when my father noticed a family of four standing at a bus stop. "What's wrong with those people? How can they subject their children to public transportation?" he asked, his voice a mix of disgust and his usual arrogance. "It's dirty and crowded."

My mother nodded in agreement, her head bobbing up and down like the little bobble-head dogs you see on the dashboard of cars.

"Maybe they can't afford a car, Dad, did you ever think of that?" I answered, feeling shocked and embarrassed by my father's words.

"Maybe they should get a job, Megan. Did you ever think of that?" It was the first time, but not the last, that his voice was filled with irritation when he spoke to me.

I didn't respond to his absurd words; I was stunned silent—and I was ten.

I'm no longer shocked when either of my parents says or does something cold and insensitive. It's who they are, and I've long since accepted that.

When people tell me I look like my mother, I know they mean it as a compliment, but that's not how I take it. While she is beautiful, with long, flowing platinum hair, pale blue eyes, and smooth, flawless skin, the saying _beauty is only skin deep_ definitely applies to her. My hair is more of a strawberry-blond, a lot darker than my mother's, and my eyes are green. It might not be a big deal to anybody else, but to me, it's a visible difference between us, showing that I am nothing like her.

I have always felt like an impostor in my own life, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst my friends and family. All anybody sees when they look at me is an eighteen-year-old girl, wearing designer clothes and driving a shiny red convertible. I'm a Banks, rich, spoiled, popular, and given everything I want. But that is far from the truth. How can I have what I want, when I don't know what that is?

For as long as I can remember I've felt something missing from my life, and sometimes believed it was a connection to another person. The closest I've come to that feeling was with our cook and gardener. Did that even count? Would they even be in my life if they weren't paid to be?

Of course I had friends, although I wasn't sure if they'd still be here if I had a different last name. Would I be a cheerleader hanging out with the captain and hunky football players if my father wasn't senior partner in his law firm? Would my friends want to visit me if we didn't have a pool, hot tub, and tennis courts? Sometimes my life felt so foreign, I expected to wake one morning to my true family. Go downstairs, have a real conversation with my parents, eating cereal and arguing with my siblings. My father would actually look up at me from behind his newspaper and smile as I stole a piece of his slightly burnt toast that my mother had made for him. Instead of the cook, who really was a substitute for my biological mother—who wouldn't be caught dead out of bed before noon.

"Megan, are you coming?" my best friend, Mandy, asked as she leaned into my bedroom doorway, disrupting my thoughts.

I was staring at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair, letting my mind wander, and I forgot she was waiting for me. "Yes." I stood up to grab my purse off of my bed. I turned once more to the mirror, and, satisfied that none of the lettuce from dinner was stuck in my teeth, I ran out of my room to catch up with Mandy.

As I bounded down the large, sweeping staircase, Mandy, who was ahead of me, slipped out the door and into the night. I didn't quite make it before I heard a clicking sound coming down the marble hallway. I glanced over to see my mother heading toward me in her shiny, silver, spiked heels, wearing a skin-tight red designer dress.

God knows why she had to look as though she were a fashion model just sitting around her own house. But there was no point in trying to figure out why she did anything. I gave up a long time ago.

"Where are you going, Megan?" Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, shrill and annoying. I wanted to say "like you care," but even after all these years of my parents abandoning me for their charity events, spa trips, and eighty-hour work weeks, I still hoped one day we could be a close family like we were when I was little.

I stopped in my tracks, whirling around to confront her. The overwhelming smell of her perfume struck me as much as her beauty. _Too bad her attitude didn't match her appearance._ I watched as her soft blue eyes narrowed and glared at me, waiting for me to answer the question. She had her hand on the stair railing, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the top impatiently. The sound reminded me of a drum beat.

"I'm spending the night at Mandy's." Without waiting for an answer, I turned, descending the rest of the stairs, and rushed out the door.

I heard her yell something about not giving me permission, but I left anyway. Since when was she so concerned about me?

"So, where to?" I asked Mandy, who was waiting patiently, playing with the car stereo. She glanced up and smiled after I climbed into the driver's seat of my convertible. Since there was a chill in the air at night, the top was up. It was April and soon enough we'd be able to drive with it down.

"The football field. Brandon, Chris, Shane, and the rest of the team are meeting us there, but we have to pick up Jenny, her car is in the shop. Her father won't let her use his because she got two speeding tickets last time he lent it to her."

I laughed. Jenny didn't care about other people's belongings. To her it was her father's duty to give her whatever she wanted, simply because she was his child. She was a little shallow, self-centered...and annoying. I asked myself often why she was my friend.

I pulled into Jenny's driveway, which was just down the road from my house, and honked the horn.

"Don't you want to go in?" Mandy asked me. Her hand was resting on the door handle, about to open it.

"No, if we go in she'll take forever. Do you want to wait or hang out with the guys?" I leaned over to the stereo, flicking through the songs on the car's mp3 player.

"That's true; she isn't one to rush when people are waiting."

I rolled my eyes at that. She was the kind of person who would take her time _because_ we were waiting.

Twenty minutes later Jenny strolled out of her house. Like mine, hers was a mansion, but while my family's home was old and understated, with beautiful gardens and landscaping that wrapped around the classic architecture of the grey stone house, Jenny's house screamed, "Look at me, I'm rich." The outside was a salmon-colored stucco. The gardens were beautifully done but overshadowed by dozens of tacky sculptures. The worst was the cherub holding a bow and arrow. It stood in the centre of their fake pond, peeing. Classy, I know.

"Hey, guys, I hope I didn't keep you waiting," Jenny said sweetly, climbing into the back seat. She shoved Mandy a bit harder than necessary when she pushed the front seat forward.

"Oh, of course not. We've only been sitting here for twenty minutes," I said coldly, annoyed with her already, and the night had barely begun.

"What's your problem? I didn't know you were here." Jenny's voice took on a defensive tone as she looked into her small makeup mirror. She fluffed her shoulder-length blond hair and scrunched up her lips, adoring her reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah, right," I mumbled but decided to let it go. Mandy gave me a pleading look, begging me not to pick a fight with Jenny tonight. I nodded at her and pulled out of the driveway.

Jenny tucked her mirror into her clutch purse and asked, "So where are we going?"

Mandy turned in her seat to face Jenny. "The football field with the guys. I told you already when I called you to say we were on our way. Remember?"

"Oh, right, I forgot. I got into it with my dad again. He's still refusing to pay to fix my car. He was going on and on tonight at dinner about being responsible if I want to have a car, this was my third accident, blah, blah, blah. I tuned him out after that. God, he's getting so annoying, like it's the end of the world because I've had three accidents. I can't believe he thinks I should pay to fix it."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah, life is tough, isn't it? How can he expect you to take responsibility for your own actions?"

" _I know, right_?"

Apparently, sarcasm was lost on her. I opened my mouth to tell her off, but a look from Mandy silenced me. For some reason, Mandy liked Jenny, and since Mandy and I were best friends, and had been since her father started to work at my dad's firm ten years ago, I had to put up with Jenny, even if it killed me.

Five minutes later, I pulled into the nearly empty school parking lot, next to Shane's enormous black SUV. God, it was obnoxious, but then again, so was Shane. No wonder he and Jenny were a couple; they were perfect for each other.

I tossed my purse in the front seat of the car, locked the doors, and followed my friends through the back of the school to the field.

"Look who's finally here." Shane sauntered up to Jenny, wrapping his arm possessively around her. "It took you long enough. Let me guess, Jenny kept you waiting," he asked me, but his girlfriend started speaking before I could.

"Don't encourage her. She's already pissed at me, just because I took a little extra time getting ready. I had to look my best for you." Her lips puckered into a pout as she leaned up to kiss him hungrily, almost making me gag. I had to turn away from their disgusting PDA before I hurled right there on the football field.

"Okay, that's gross," Brandon said, walking over to stand next to me.

"Really, guys, if you want to be alone, go in the bushes. We really don't need to see it." Chris approached us, wrapping his arms around Mandy. They had been going out for six months, and they were so cute together. They even looked alike with their black hair and blue eyes. There was quite a difference in size though. While Chris was almost six feet and broad shouldered, Mandy was short with a tiny frame, and her pixie haircut just made her appear smaller.

Shane pushed Jenny away but wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "So do any of you girls want a drink?" Shane gestured with his hand to a cooler with what looked like a twenty-four of beer inside. It was sitting on the grass in front of the bleachers.

I passed on the beer, climbing up the benches to sit down on the bleachers about four rows up. Jenny and Mandy helped themselves to a drink, choosing to sit down on the first row.

"Megan, you want one?" Brandon asked, holding a brown bottle up for me.

"No thanks, I'm driving," I said, wondering why I came.

"So am I, but you don't see me being a downer and saying no," Shane said, twisting the cap off of a bottle.

"You're right. I don't ever see you saying no." I stared at Shane coldly, unable to hide my irritation.

He glared at me, his jaw locked. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, taking a few steps toward the bleachers, his chest puffed out in a sign of aggression.

Brandon grabbed his shoulder. "I'm sure she didn't mean anything. She was just agreeing with you." He looked up at me, his eyes pleading. "Right, Meg?"

I decided it was a waste of time to give Shane a lecture on drinking and driving, so instead I gave him a fake smile. "Right," I said with a nod.

Jenny, ignoring her boyfriend's outburst, turned and glanced up at me. "So Megan, did Mandy tell you that I changed practice from ten on Sunday morning to two? My parents are having some brunch thing for my father's work, so we can all meet at my place then, okay?"

"Whatever." God, I hated cheerleading practice. I joined first year with Mandy, but slowly grew tired of it. I wanted to quit a few times, but Mandy always offered an excuse as to why I shouldn't. The latest one was that I was needed for the cheer competition next month. So I would stick it out, but come June, I was free. I hated dressing in our skimpy uniforms and shaking our butts in front of hundreds of people. I felt like I was putting myself on display, and honestly hated being in the spotlight.

"Hey, Shane, will your shoulder be better by Friday?" Chris asked him while he sat down beside Mandy. Last Friday night at their weekly game of touch football with some of their teammates, it got a little rough.

"Yeah, I've been working on it, it'll be fine." He rolled his shoulder to demonstrate.

Jenny grabbed Shane and pulled him toward the corner of the bleachers so they could make out in semi-private.

Chris took Mandy's hand, leading her toward the school.

Great, I was alone with Brandon again. This was what usually happened when we all got together: we paired up. But the problem was, Brandon and I were not a couple. Not that he didn't want to be, I just didn't like him that way. He was a good guy, but I didn't think of him as anything more than a friend.

Brandon bent down and pulled out a beer. After opening it, he threw the cap in the cooler, and it made a pinging sound as it hit a glass bottle. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, staring up at me. His voice was deep and in the silence sounded loud.

"Sure, but you know how I feel."

"I know, don't worry." He climbed the bleachers two at a time, plopping down on the bench next to me.

"Where's the rest of the team?"

"I don't know. We didn't ask them to come. Why?"

I shook my head, realizing Mandy had lied to me, knowing I wouldn't want to come if it was just the six of us. "Never mind."

"Why do you always push him like that?" he asked, leaning his elbows back against the bench behind him, nodding his head to the back of the bleachers where Shane and Jenny were giggling.

I sighed. "I don't know. Both of them are so selfish and irresponsible, they drive me crazy."

"Then why do you hang out with them?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "Okay, let me rephrase. Why do you hang out with Jenny?"

I leaned my head back, staring up at the star-filled sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him gaze at me, waiting for my answer. "Mandy likes her. God knows why. And Mandy's my best friend, so I put up with Jenny's crap. Barely," I added when he laughed.

Looking away from the twinkling stars, I turned my head to face him. "So why do you hang out with _him_? You're not as obnoxious as he is."

He laughed. " _As_ obnoxious? Was that a compliment?" he asked. I nodded with a grin. "The three of us have been friends since grade school. Shane started acting like this our second year of high school after his parents got divorced. Chris and I have been friends with him for so long it seems habit now. We just ignore him when he acts like an ass."

I knew they had been friends since they were young, but I never understood the dynamic. As I leaned my head back, staring at the stars again, I felt him lean against me. I pulled away and heard him sigh.

"So where are you going in the fall?" he asked, setting his beer on the bench beside him.

"Actually I'm taking a year off. I don't know what I want to do with my life, and I didn't want to waste my parents' money going to school with no major. What about you, what are you taking?"

"Pre-law. I'm going to be a lawyer, whether I like it or not. Just like my dad, and his dad." His father was a partner in my dad's firm. My father was his boss.

Watching Brandon, I wondered why I couldn't like him the way he wanted. He was very cute, with his wavy chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, his face filled with sharp lines and a strong jaw. He was always nice to me, but I just felt like there was something missing in my life, and I knew it wasn't him.

"If you don't want to be a lawyer, don't be. You shouldn't let your father dictate your life."

He sighed, leaning his elbows on the bench behind him. "Well, he says he won't pay for school if I don't follow in the family business. But I don't know what else to take, so I'm okay with it." He took a frustrated drink from his beer, downed it, and then threw the empty bottle on the grass. It rolled a few feet, stopping inches from someone's discarded backpack. Standing up, he turned to me. "You sure you don't want one?" When I only nodded he stepped down the bleachers and pulled another beer from the cooler.

Mandy and Chris headed towards us, hand in hand, giggling to one another.

"Hey, I'll have one," Chris said to Brandon. Brandon took two more out and tossed them one at a time to Chris. He caught one, handed it to Mandy, and then caught the second one; the bottle clinked against his class ring.

# If you liked this book, you may also like The Soul's Mark: FOUND by Ashley Stoyanoff. Read on for a preview.

# PROLOGUE

Salem, Massachusetts, 1692

Racing through the dense woodland, a heavy cloud of smoke billowed upwards, cresting above the herbaceous border and confirming his soundless fears. Still miles away, he could already smell the pungent curdling of her blood as it began to boil, and the vile stench of searing flesh. Undeniably, the firestorm was spreading, and he struggled to drive out the image of the flames reaching up her body.

He cursed his heightened senses, wishing he could block out the ruthless chanting, "Burn the Witch!" The unyielding voices only helped his psyche run wild, and the graphic image of her tied to a post and set ablaze etched itself in his vision.

Her fear consumed him, rupturing their bond like a sudden cloudburst, and his body threatened to surrender to the inevitable fate marked for his soul. Regardless, the chain around his heart yanked him forwards. You need to save her, he told himself over and over, battling his body's attempts to give up and abandon the rescue. He pushed on, raw adrenaline propelling him forward. But even with the unparalleled velocity and power of a vampire, his limbs would not move fast enough.

The smoke cloud rose mercilessly, thick and black and punctuated by the sparks of glowing embers as he broke into the clearing at Salem Commons. A mob of several hundred onlookers cheered for her execution. He watched in horror as they tossed books, chairs, and brush onto the fire that was licking up her dress.

Their eyes met, and the look of pure hatred that contorted her face was agonizing. His knees buckled, and he plunged to the ground. He focused all of his energy on pulling her spirit to him but it was futile: no matter what he tried, she would not let him ease her pain.

The congregation's savage chanting became deafening. The flames licked at her cheeks, and her long, curly locks were set ablaze, melting and sparking, but she did not howl from the pain. Silently, her gray-blue eyes remained fixed on his, and flared with accusation. At that moment, he knew without a doubt that she blamed him, solely and entirely, for her cold-blooded death sentence.

His tortured wails were scarcely heard over the fevered roars of the mob. He watched, powerless, as one of the very few things that could kill him—the blazing inferno—devoured her body and his soul, turning her into nothing more than ash.

# 

# CHAPTER 1

The Greyhound bus pulled into the Willowberg station with a sucking pneumatic hiss. Amelia Caldwell shuddered as the driver announced the arrival and wondered if she could just stay on the bus. She hated moving. And she really hated change. It seemed as if that was all she had ever done.

On the ten-hour ride, she had almost convinced herself that this time would be different. This time she would make friends. She would not be the sad girl who lost her parents or the girl that no one wanted. No one would know her story; she could just start over. A clean slate. But now that the doors clicked open and she was actually here, her resolve was fading fast.

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at her lap, hugging tightly and trying to stop the trembles that vibrated through her. She could feel the other passengers staring at her as they retrieved their belongings and made their way off the bus. People always seemed to stare.

She never really understood why she couldn't just blend into the crowd. At five foot four, she wasn't tall. With a slim figure, curly brown hair and blue-gray eyes, she felt average. Definitely not eye-catching. But there was just something about her, something she did not understand that made people notice her. It was like they just couldn't help but stare.

Amelia kept her head down, waiting for the other passengers to leave. It's not fair, a voice in her head bellowed. It was supposed to be different this time, better somehow. Her eyes burned, she was shaking, and she knew she was going to cry.

Willowberg was supposed to be her new start at life. Despite all her fears of moving, she had been so sure that she was making the right decision. It had seemed like a dream come true. A full scholarship, housing arranged and paid for, and the University of Willowberg was even providing a basic living allowance so that she wouldn't have to work.

Amelia sighed, scrubbing furiously at her puffy, pink eyes. Gulping down a few breaths, she wondered why she had accepted the scholarship. Especially after she found out she would be living off campus, in a house with roommates. If they didn't like her, just as she knew they wouldn't, she would be alone. Completely alone. There would not be dorm advisors that would have to be nice to her or other nerdy girls to study with. It would just be her and the roommates who thought she was a freak.

You can do this, Amelia told herself sternly, swallowing the prickly lump in her throat and stretching her cheeks into a forced—and she hoped—realistic smile. She picked up her backpack and padded her way off the bus.

Amelia had just stepped onto the platform, into the bright sun, when a clear, musical voice called her name.

"Amelia? Amelia Caldwell?"

She looked up to see a stunningly beautiful girl walking towards her. Nearly six feet tall, with silky auburn hair and big brown eyes, highlighted with a touch of liner and mascara. She looked a bit older, maybe twenty, Amelia guessed. And she was all legs, eyes and pouty lips: the perfect supermodel body.

Completely dumbfounded, Amelia just stood and stared at this gorgeous girl, who was smiling at her, talking to her. She looked friendly and, though Amelia could not be sure, almost appeared as if she was genuinely happy to see her.

"I was getting worried you didn't catch the bus on time," the girl said, her big childlike brown eyes wide with concern. She rushed over, throwing her arms around Amelia, crushing her in a big bear hug. "I'm so glad you're finally here."

Amelia dropped her bag, landing with a thud on the ground and stood stiff and rigid, not returning the embrace. Affection was foreign to her. People didn't usually touch her, not like this. It took her a moment, but once the initial shock passed, she wiggled her way out of the girl's arms and took a step back.

"My, where are my manners. You must think I'm crazy!" the musical voice sang out and the girl extended her hand to Amelia. "I'm Angelle O'Connor, your new roommate."

With a shaky, unsure hand, Amelia accepted the shake, pumping it twice in a quick, fluid motion, cleared her throat and said, "Um... Hi. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh honey, you look as scared as a deer caught in headlights. Are you okay?" Angelle asked, giving Amelia a concerned look.

Amelia had not noticed how scared she truly was until Angelle said it. She could feel her body shaking and the all too familiar prickly feeling in her eyes warned her she was about to cry again. She sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and attempted to smile, trying to conceal how much she wanted to run away and hide, and then she lied, "I'm okay. I'm just tired. It was a really long trip."

"Well then, let's get you home," Angelle said. Her big brown eyes glanced around, settling on Amelia's backpack. Surprised, she asked, "Is this all you brought?"

Amelia bit her lip for a scared second and a nervous knot emerged deep in her gut. She remembered the last time she had moved and the reaction from the other kids. They had teased her and called her names, treating her like a bum, an outcast. And for some reason, which she just did not understand, Amelia knew she would just die if Angelle treated her the same way. She dropped her head, shuffling her feet, because she really could not stand it if the girl looked at her the way others had. Kids could be just so... mean. Hesitantly, she nodded.

Angelle let out a little squeal and Amelia snapped her eyes up. "That's wonderful," she said, clapping her hands and doing a little hop. "I need a shopping trip and I've always wanted a little sister to dress up." She scooped up Amelia's backpack, "Are you coming?"

Little sister? Amelia wondered. She watched Angelle for just a second before she returned the smile and nodded shyly. Angelle seemed so excited. That was a good thing, right? But even if it was good it seemed... odd... and it made her feel crazy with a whole lot of uncertainty.

Angelle put a secure arm around Amelia's shoulders and steered her towards the parking lot.

Angelle had a black Hummer. In the car, all Amelia could do was gawk at her new roommate. There was something almost hypnotic about the girl. It was as if Amelia couldn't help but be drawn into her beauty. Her skin, pale and milky, seemed to glow with perfection. Her shiny hair cascading down her shoulders looked so soft, like silk.

Entranced, Amelia wanted to reach out and touch it. She could see her hand reaching out but somehow, with great restraint, she stopped herself. Instead, she forced her eyes away, looking out the window and tried to listen to what Angelle was saying. She was saying something important, something about books?

"You don't mind, do you?" Angelle asked.

Amelia racked her brain, trying to piece together the few words that popped out to her, but she was just drawing a blank. Something about books, that was it. That was all she could figure out.

She realized they were stopped at a red light when Angelle snapped her fingers in front of Amelia's eyes. "Earth to Amelia! Gosh, have you been listening to anything I just said?"

Amelia flushed, frustrated and embarrassed. She really hoped that Angelle did not know she had missed the whole conversation because she had been marveling at her hair. God, she really hoped not. "Sorry."

When the light turned green, Angelle made a left onto a street filled with cute little cafes and overly expensive looking boutiques. Everything looked clean, almost too clean. There was no garbage floating around, the grassy areas lining the sidewalk were manicured to perfection, even the small trees were trimmed and pruned.

"No need to be sorry. How long were you on that horrid bus anyways?"

"Ten hours," Amelia groaned.

Angelle gave her a sideways look. "Wow, that's nuts. Anyways, I was saying that I picked up your textbooks and computer so at least you won't have to worry about that. It's all part of your scholarship. I know I should have waited for you but I kinda have a teeny, tiny shopping problem." She rambled on so fast and with such a high, cheery energy, that Amelia struggled to follow it all. "I just couldn't resist the chance to spend some money," she giggled.

Angelle made a quick right, heading away from the beautiful area. "Okay, I'm completely lost. Why did you buy my books and computer? How do you even know what I need?"

"It's my job to know," Angelle replied, waving a dismissive hand. "Didn't the school tell you anything? They should have mailed you all the information last month. Oh, and speaking of the school, there it is." She pointed off to the right, but Amelia barely noticed the large buildings.

She was just so confused. "Um, I didn't get anything in the mail," Amelia stammered. "Just a phone call telling me that I'd won a scholarship. All they told me was that it included tuition, housing and a basic living allowance. Then there was an email a couple days ago with the bus details."

Amelia felt a rush of pure adrenaline and her heart rate picked up, pounding loudly in her ears. Oh God, she panicked. Why am I telling her all this? And why does she already know so much? She had so desperately wanted to keep everything quiet. No one needed to know about her past or that she was poor. All she wanted was to just move on, start a new life, be... happy.

You have reached the end of this sample.

Enjoyed the preview?

Buy Now at Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/206709

Want to know more about Ashley Stoyanoff?

Visit her at: www.ashleystoyanoff.com

### Acknowledgments

I would like to thank all of my test readers, my sisters Debbie and Brenda. My Mother, and my cousin Tracy. Their input was a great help.

And also, to my mother-in-law Donna, and fellow author Ashley Stoyanoff, for helping me with editing. I really appreciate your help.

And again to my husband Brad, and children Josh and Megan for not complaining about all the time spent away from them while I wrote.

And a final thanks to Stephanie Mooney from Mooney Designs, the cover really looks great.

### About the Author

Christina Smith is a wife and mother of two, who lives in a small rural town in Ontario, Canada where she spends most of her free time writing.

Look for her newest novel, Riley's Secret, now available at Smashwords.

