The Mayfair Moon (The Darkwoods Trilogy 1)

Only when I heard yet another howl and the sound of the large window in the den shatter, did I come out of that coma.

Counting Alex, four werewolves stood in my house.

Werewolves.

Alex ran with a chilling ease at the other three. She and one other clashed in mid-air; Alex’s head-start propelling them both back out through the broken window. The others followed.

I got to my feet and ran out the front door. It didn’t matter that I should’ve tried to hide, or run away from them. Hypnotized by the event, all I could force myself to do was watch.

12

FOUR WEREWOLVES QUICKLY TURNED into five and then six. My heart quavered; fascination and fear working together to keep me conscious. I had lost sight of which one was Alex so fast, as they all looked the same to me.

Amid the chaos, I thought of Beverlee and Uncle Carl, hoping they wouldn’t come home early. If I was going to die like this, I didn’t want to bring those I loved down with me.

Not like this.

The porch rumbled and shook beneath me; the dead plants hanging above swung back and forth. A pungent stench suddenly filled my nostrils and slowly I turned around to see the seventh beast coming toward me on the porch. I took off in the opposite direction, leaping over the porch railing and landing in the wide open where the others caught in the bloody brawl could clearly see me. I didn’t know where I was running, or why I thought running anywhere was going to help, but I ran. I ran and ran. I could feel the hot, rancid breath of the one chasing me, moistening the flesh on my back.

Don’t run into the barn, I said to myself. But there was nowhere else to go.

I ran right into the barn and fell to the ground, backing my way against the nearest pile of rusted junk.

The enormous beast bore down on me, walking slow and methodically in my direction as though wanting me to look it in the eyes before it ripped me to pieces. And I did look it in the eyes. They stared back at me so cold and predatory. I thought to myself: Please God; just don’t let that one be my sister. I did not want to be killed by Alex. Anyone but Alex.

It happened in a blink; but the beast soaring at me was not of its own accord. Another werewolf had entered the barn and dove at it, sending it crashing violently into the wall right past my head. I rolled out of the way seconds before debris crushed me.

They fought so fiercely they almost brought the barn down. The weak roof in the corner fell, exposing the darkness to the moonlight and anything mounted along the rotting walls came falling down in every direction.

The force of their feral blows was supernatural. No human could have survived even the weakest one. Blood glistened in their long, mangy fur and deep gashes as long as my arm were cut into their massive bodies.

I started to run out of the barn, but fell over an old tire obscured beneath the hay.

One last violent blow struck one beast down. I didn’t know which was which. Thinking that one of them had actually been there to save me was not in my thoughts. All I knew was that they were both werewolves and I was a human girl. I looked at them, wondering which one was going to win me as the prize...the meal.

The one still standing glared across at me, but it did not advance.

Those outside howled.

It glowered at me, contemplating. Blood and thick saliva dripped from its massive teeth. Its dark gaze going back and forth between me, the barn exit and the werewolf lying wounded on the floor.

One last seemingly dominant howl from outside and the werewolf took off for the exit and disappeared; the barn door ripped from its hinges and splintered into a million pieces.

I was paralyzed. It felt like the breath keeping me alive had become something thicker, more toxic in my lungs. I choked several times before I could breathe steadily.

It had become utterly silent outside. The howling and gnashing of teeth, the clash of their lycanthrope bodies; everything stopped.

I was too afraid to move to see if they were still out there. Hot breath emitted from my barely-open lips in rapid puffs of freezing air. My breath was the only sound.

One werewolf still lay wounded just feet from me—a small sense of relief short-lived.

It stirred.

I saw the rusty machete next to me on the barn floor, covered by even rustier saw blades. I grabbed it and stood up. I knew that no matter how wounded it was, this would still probably end badly for me, but by this time I wasn’t going down without putting up a fight.

And if it was Alex, then I had to help her by ending this savage, murderous life.

From a deceptively safe distance, I gazed down upon the beast. It panted and moved its massive head around in a circular motion. My whole body tensed. I felt my courage quickly dripping out of my body along with my sweat. Before I lost it all, I took two steps closer and raised the machete above my head. I felt my legs weak and shaking, barely holding up my weight. I could scarcely hold the weight of the machete as if my arms were as frail as paper.

I should’ve killed it right then; I had the opportunity, but the beast opened its eyes and looked right into mine. The eyes staring back at me seemed to bore into my soul, stripping from me everything that made me violent and vengeful and detached. A conflict tore my mind apart. I told myself that if I didn’t kill it that it would kill me, but my heart dictated those thoughts. Something was in its eyes, so true and sincere, so absolutely pleading.

The beast’s form then began to shift as the body lay there on the blood-soaked hay. I watched, every one of my senses pulling me in every direction. I still had the machete. I still had one last chance to strike the blow and take off its head.

I think only fate kept me from using it.

The hair began to disappear into the flesh, the snout fading behind the skull, its skin slowly turning from grey-black to a more human-like complexion. The sound of bones cracking was horrific in my ears as they set themselves back into place. The gnarled hands and hind-like legs distorted and shrank to normal size.

Not realizing I had ever moved, I saw that I was pressed into the wall behind me. I had backed away, but could go no further.

Isaac lay nak*d and bloody in the floor of my barn.

Tears began burning my eyes and throat again. I wasn’t sure about what I was seeing, who I was seeing. I wasn’t sure of anything, not the bitter taste of blood in my mouth, or the ground I stood upon, or the light wind rattling the hole in the roof. Nothing.

I heard the machete hit the ground, pinging against something else old and rusted as it dropped from my hand. I went with it, falling to my knees.

And I wept.

I put my face in my hands and let it all out; my whole body shuddering in a tumultuous display.

Finally, I could look up again and I did so slowly.

Isaac carefully sat upright. I heard his neck crack as he rolled his head to both sides. He moaned through tightly gritted teeth until the pain of resetting his shoulder passed.

He stood, facing sideways from me to shield his nak*dness and he walked to the lawnmower, took a filthy, tattered blanket that had been used to cover it, and wrapped it around his lower body.

Sebastian, my missing friend from school, ran shirtless into the barn and stopped at the entrance.

I couldn’t handle this, seeing Sebastian alive, seeing Isaac who had just shifted from a werewolf into Isaac again. My eyes darted back and forth between them and then I was even more shocked when Nathan Mayfair stood next to Sebastian. He was completely nak*d.

The pieces of this puzzle were all fitting together at once, overwhelming me.

It took seeing Nathan nak*d and in partial darkness to realize where I had truly seen him before. He was who fell onto the path in Georgia and told Alex and me to run away. He was the one who turned into a werewolf and fought the ones after him.

No words exchanged between the three of them, only nods of acknowledgment as Isaac assured them that they could leave.

Isaac and I were alone again.

He approached me and instinctively, I recoiled. “Have you been hurt?” he said as he carefully knelt down in front of me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. My body shook all over.

Carefully, I gazed up into his face and he reached out his hand and touched my lips softly, wiping away a trickle of blood. How amazing a touch so gentle could come from such a violent beast. When finally Isaac sensed my fear of him began to diminish, he took me into his arms and held me pressed against his nak*d chest. My posture only rejected him for seconds before the warmth of his embrace eased my trembling body.

“Adria,” he said very carefully, “Where else are you bleeding?”

I hurt all over, but none of my wounds stung as they do when the skin has been seared. I pulled away from Isaac slowly and looked upon myself. “I-I think I’m just sore,” I said and then I touched my lips where the blood had been, where his fingers had so gently grazed me.

I wasn’t sure how to answer his question; everything was surreal to me. “I busted my lip—not sure how—I’m okay....”

Isaac inspected both of my arms and then carefully turned my body at the waist and pulled up my shirt to see my back.

“Are your jeans ripped anywhere?” he said eagerly as he helped me to straighten my legs out into the floor. He inspected them also, back and front and then put his hand on the end of the front of my shirt. He waited, looking to me first for permission. I let him pull my shirt up enough so he could see my stomach. He was respectful and went no further.

Isaac leaned in and kissed me long and hard upon the forehead. I could feel the unbridled emotion in his touch, the undeniable need to protect me from everything. The warmth from his mouth spread all throughout my body.

“If you had been Turned by one of them,” he said, “it would have been the death of me.”

I think I had been in love with Isaac Mayfair all along, but now was the moment in time in which I knew it.

He drew me toward him again and held me there, pressed against his warm body. I never wanted him to let me go. I know he felt the same way.

“I admit,” Isaac said, “I expected more of an unconscious reaction.” He didn’t laugh, but I heard the faintest hint of humor in his voice.

“This isn’t my first time,” I revealed.

He pulled my head carefully away from his chest and stared at me. “Explain that.”

“In Georgia,” I began right away, “Alex and I were, well not necessarily attacked, but caught in the middle of a fight between—” I stopped and pictured Nathan’s face. “Your brother was there. I know that now.” My voice became distant.

Isaac’s embrace tightened.

“He told us there was only one girl,” he said, more to himself though it seemed.

“The worst part about all of this,” I said, also more to myself than to Isaac, “is that somehow, hidden in the deepest part of me, I knew Alex was one of them....”

Isaac remained quiet, giving me my moment of realization.

When I had had enough time to go over that understanding in my mind, I turned my attention to him again, dismissing Alex altogether.

“But you are hurt,” I said, rising up to examine his wounds. “There’s blood everywhere.” It was true, about the blood, but as I examined him more closely, I saw that his wounds were not as grave as they should’ve been. The gash on his chest I knew had been deeper just seconds ago. I looked at him interrogatively.