Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 18

Night had fallen and the thin crescent of the waning moon gave little light. A chill wind blew down off the mountain, stirring the branches of the old trees. The Moonwood itself seemed to whisper, as if the trees shared ancient secrets among themselves, under the watchful stars.

In the quiet of the cold spring night, the Wildfangs, obedient to their Master's command, gathered at the Den.

"As you see Markus, all the Wildfangs are now ours," Faust said.

"Too bad the last one never came to one of Kiril's concerts," Markus replied, as he studied the gathered werewolves. "We could have finished this sooner."

"You're always so impatient, my friend," Faust smiled. "The concerts served their purpose... giving us our chance to ensnare the others. There was no need to rush. When the time was right, Ms. Demarco came to me... and now the entire pack is under my control."

"What about Claudette?" Markus asked, the whisper of a cruel jeer almost hidden. "Has she come to you, now that the time is right? Is she under control?"

"Claudette is unimportant," Faust's answering smile barely covered the flash of temper. 

"As long as she doesn't interfere again," Markus growled with bitter memory. [1]

"She's powerless," Faust replied. "Stripped of her magic, she can do nothing!"

"Da, she is like buzzing of little fly," Kiril said, shifting out of his wolf-form and stepping forward. "Annoying but harmless."

"She's made her choice," Faust nodded, "and she'll suffer for it."

Kiril smiled, "Wildfangs await your orders."

"Sleep... until morning," Faust said. "Markus, go back to Forgotten Hollow and tell our friends - By the time the sun sets, and they have awoken, Moonwood Mill will belong to the Wildfangs... and the Wildfangs belong to us."

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Soon, Faust's familiar spirit, Mephistopheles, intoned in its sepulchral voice. Soon the Moonwood will be ours.

"Indeed," Faust smiled. "It seems a pitiful domain... to those who do not understand the ancient power here. Now, let us be about it..."

"Kiril," he continued. "Mephistopheles tells me that there is to be a little gathering at the library this morning... local mortals speaking with Mr. Wilder, sharing their their concerns regarding the Wildfangs recent actions. I believe the pack should have a voice in that meeting.

"Take Bianca. Deal with Mr. Wilder and the show these mortals what it truly means to be means to be ruled by the Wildfangs!"

"As for the rest of you... it is time to put an end to this feud with the Collective. They will acknowledge the rule of the Wildfangs or they will pay the price. We will bring the Collective elders to heel... then we will deal with Kristophoros, the Annointed." 

"Of course, that does leave one matter unresolved," he mused to himself. "By now, Claudette will have abandoned her so-called friends and be focusing on protecting herself... hiding or trying to escape. So, who shall I use to track down my wayward daughter?"

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Angry howls echoed through the trees. 

"Don't worry, Freddie" Etta said, holding the little boy close. "I'll keep you safe."

I won't betray you, she added to herself, and I won't abandon you!

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[1] The last time a defiant Claudette interfered.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 17

Something was wrong.

Demarco didn't know what, but she could feel it with every step she took back to the Den. Of course, lots of things were wrong right now, but this was... different. She couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to be somewhere. 

To hell with it, she thought. Rory always told her to trust her feelings.

Breaking into a jog, she trotted past the Den and headed toward the entrance to the tunnels. The underground passages that ran under Moonwood Mill were the quickest way for her to get to the Collective's cabin. Without knowing how or why, she knew she needed to get back to Etta.

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"Hello, Claudette," Professor John Faust's deep voice was like ice and fire in Etta's blood.

The sight of him, standing there behind her like some black shadow she could never escape, filled her with conflicting emotions. Anger, hate... oh so much hate... fear, shame and, despite everything, the desperate, bone-deep longing for his approval. The sheer intensity of her feelings was nauseating.

"Well, I am pleased to see that two years living among these feral beasts hasn't done you any harm my dear, except perhaps to your fashion sense," Faust said.

"Seriously? I mean... seriously?!" Etta gasped, the absurdity of his words cutting through her visceral reaction to him. "After two and a half years... two and a half years! ... you risk coming to Moonwood Mill to insult my clothes?! What do you want, Father?"

"Is it so strange that I would seek out my dear daughter," Faust said with a serpent’s smile.

"The last time we spoke," Etta said bitterly, "you said I was a defiant fool, a disappointment. You said I was nothing."

Even now, knowing better what he was and what he had done, the memory hurt. All she had ever wanted was to make him proud. The memory of things she had done in an effort to earn his approval sickened her and still she yearned for it, ached for it.

"My dear, I was angry," Faust said gently. "You had, after all, just betrayed me."

"Yes, well, betrayal seems to be a particular talent of mine," Etta said, holding tightly to her anger as a shield against her pain. "One you nurtured and honed to a keen edge. Careless of you… cut by your own weapon."

"Yes," Faust hissed. “Quite careless."

"What do you want, Father?" Etta repeated.

"I came to offer you a chance to return," Faust smiled. "A chance to regain the powers those sanctimonious Sages took from you. I can give you that... and more. Come back to me, my dear."

She couldn't breathe for the shock of it. There he was, offering her everything... her powers restored, her place at his side. All she had to do was take it.

"Why?" she heard herself ask. "After all this time, why?"

"I need you, Claudette," Faust said gently, kindly. "Great things are coming, and I want my daughter at my side. You were a powerful witch, and you can be again. Together, we can continue the Great Work..."

"I've... I've dreamed about this," Claudette said. "Literally dreamed of this moment... of you, standing there and offering to take me back, offering to restore everything I lost. Every time... every time... I woke up before I heard myself answer you. I've wondered... for so long I've wondered what I would say to you. Now I know, without doubt or hesitation, what my answer is."

"Go to Hell, Father!" Etta shouted. "I want nothing from you. Your words are lies. Your gifts are poison. You used me, twisted me, made me a weapon... nothing but your weapon! I will not go back! I will not join you. So yeah... go to Hell, Professor Faust! I have it on good authority you know the way."

With a deep breath, she turned her back on him and marched away. It had happened. He'd come to her, just as she had always wanted. He offered her everything, and she'd rejected him. She felt free. She felt strong... and she absolutely wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her throw up. She'd do that when she got back to her cabin and could break down privately.

"You ungrateful little slut," Faust snarled. "Don't you turn your back to me!"

Pain seared through every part of her body. 

She couldn't move. She couldn't even scream. 

Desperately, she tried to cling to her anger, to her defiance, her freedom. Another wave of pain ripped through her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to crawl to Father and beg for his forgiveness. Anything to stop the pain.

"Hey!" Demarco shouted. "What the hell are you doing to her!?"

She didn't know what was happening, not really, but she had no doubt that this strange, dark man was responsible for what was happening to Etta.

"Leave her alone," she snarled, looming over the man.

"Ms. Demarco, I believe," Faust smiled even as he reflexively leaned away from the werewolf's fury. "I've been so eager to meet you."

"If you don't back off, asshole, you're going to get more of me than you can handle," Demarco growled.

"Run," Etta sobbed softly. "Lux, run... please... run!"

"Oh, I think not," Faust smiled. "You see, I know how to handle bitches like you. Heel, dog."

"No," Etta cried as Faust raised his wand and spoke a Word. 

Sobbing, Etta turned and fled. Lux, I'm sorry, she thought. I didn't have enough time. 

Demarco stood, dazed. Her mind felt empty, as she awaited her Master's command.

Finally, Faust thought, the last of the Wildfangs is mine.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 16

"What's gotten into her, Lou?" Demarco demanded.

Winter had finally released its grip on Moonwood Mill, and the sudden spring rains had melted most of the snow. Unfortunately, the newly rediscovered freedom to get out of the house had done little to ease tensions. Rory's declarations at the pack meeting, and the town meeting that had followed, had set the pot to boiling. Relations between the packs had been reduced to hard looks and snarling.

"What do you mean?" Lou asked mildly.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?!" Demarco burst out. "Look, I know I've only been here since fall, but I can see she's acting weird. When Rory brought me into the pack, the Wildfangs were all about supporting each other and improving ourselves. When did 'rule the town' become a thing?"

"You'd rather leave it to the elders and the old blood families?" Lou replied softly, but Demarco was startled by the low growl in his voice. 

"What the hell, Lou?" Demarco said, her eyes searching his face. What's gotten into him, she wondered.

"Look, OK, maybe we should have more of a say in things," she continued. "I really don't know... but Rory's storming around like she's constantly on the edge of shifting and going on a rampage. You know that Kurt and old Mrs. McGee tried to talk to her about all this and she basically threatened them. They're normals, Lou! When did she start going around threatening normals?"

"... and what about Kiril?" she added. "I know she used to keep a tighter leash on Kiril... now she's letting him go around snarling at people and basically doing whatever he wants." 

"Kiril's always been..." Lou started.

"The other day, he had Layla cornered back by the library bathrooms," Demarco interrupted. "When I challenged him about it, he laughed it off... like it was nothing. It's not nothing, Lou! I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't come along."

"I'll talk to Rory," Lou said. "You know, you should really come with us to Kiril's next gig down in the Harbor."

"What?" Demarco blinked at the sudden subject change. "Why would I do that? Apart from the fact that I have to listen to him torture a perfectly good guitar here all the time, have you not been listening to me? Kiril is out of control."

"Well, he's better when he's playing," Lou insisted.

"Out. Of. Control," Demarco said firmly.

"I'll talk to Rory," Lou repeated. "She'll reign him in."

"She will or I will," Demarco replied seriously. "This is going too far, Lou. Someone's going to get hurt."

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"I don't know what to do," Demarco ranted. "Other than keep an eye on Kiril. That, I definitely have to do."

Etta, Demarco thought, at least seemed to understand. Her entire pack might have bought in to this 'rule the town' nonsense, but Etta she could count on to be sensible.

"Yeah, not good," Etta agreed. "Hey, can I have a lock of your hair?"

OK, maybe not 'sensible'...

"What?" Demarco blinked. "Is this some weird witch-y pick-up line?"

"No... no," Etta laughed. "OK, actually it can be sometimes... but that's totally not what I meant. It's just... well, think of it as 'luck charm' thing."

"I thought you couldn't do magic anymore," Demarco said, puzzled and distracted.

"I can't," Etta said quickly. "Not real magic... but there are... other things. Herbalism, folk magic... little things I can still do."

"I guess a little good luck couldn't hurt," Demarco admitted. What did a few hairs matter, in the end?

"He made a play at me again," Etta added. "Kiril, I mean."

"He what?! What did he do? Are you OK?" Demarco couldn't hold back the snarl. 

"I'm fine," Etta insisted. "He just pulled his 'hey baby, need a real man' thing... but Bianca shut him down pretty quickly." 

"He went after you with Bianca around?" Demarco blinked. "He's usually not that daring. What did she do?"

"She called me a skinny, flat-chested bitch and said he'd never be interested in me... as if I was the one hitting on him," Etta snorted.

"Bitch," Demarco muttered. "I don't get those two at all... but I definitely need to keep an eye on him. I don't know, Etta... I can't shake the feeling that something really bad is about to happen."

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The strands of Demarco's hair felt heavy in Etta's pocket, as if their significance had physical substance. Almost as if she could still sense the magic. 

Should she have told Demarco the truth? No, not yet. Demarco wouldn't understand... or, worse, she would understand perfectly. 

Time. She just needed a little more time.

"Hello, Claudette," Father's deep voice filled the silence.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 15

"So, what's the deal with this Town Meeting anyway?" Demarco asked, a little apprehensive.

Winter refused to let go of Moonwood Mill without a fight. Despite the calendar claiming it was a few days until spring, cold winds blew down off the mountain, carrying icy snow that continued to blanket the ground. 

"Everyone in town gets together and talks," Rory snarled. 

Demarco cringed. Tempers already frayed by the long winter were stretched to the breaking point. The idea of getting everyone in town together in one room and talking sounded right up there with pouring gasoline on gunpowder while smoking a cheap cigar.

"Is democracy in action!" Kiril said with a broad grin. "Everyone votes on town budget, elects town officers, choose action plans... Is beautiful!"

"It's bullshit," Rory snapped. "The meeting is just for show. The Collective really runs everything."

"That's tonight anyway," Rory continued. "This is the Pack meeting... same kind of deal, but werewolves only. All the so-called Respected Elders and Heads of Families get together and hash out our business before we deal with the normals."

"Oh," Demarco said. "So, why am I here? I mean, I've been a werewolf for less than six months, so I'm not a respected elder, and I don't have a family so..." 

Maybe I can get out of here, she added to herself.

"You are family of one," Kiril grinned.

"Exactly," Rory said, crushing Demarco's hopes of escape. 

Demarco nodded, more in acceptance than agreement. She might have a voice in the meeting, but if she had any choice in the matter, she was going to stay quiet. 

Resigned, she followed Rory through the bunker's heavy door and down the rusty metal stairs. No one had really explained to her why there was an old bunker behind Grimtooth's. Demarco knew there was a second one in the woods near the Collective house where Etta lived, and that they both connected to the network of tunnels that ran beneath the town. 

Whatever its original purpose may have been, the bunker had become the formal meeting place between the packs. The Collective elders were there already, speaking quietly among themselves as Rory led the Wildfangs in.

Despite the rickety tables and mismatched chairs, Demarco felt the air of importance in the room and the weight of authority that rested on the single, otherwise ordinary, chair at the head of the table. 

As she took her uncomfortable place at the table, across from Wolfgang, Daniel Moonrunner and Lily, Demarco considered that chair at the head of it. An uncomfortable silence fell, as everyone seemed to feel the emptiness of that chair.

Rory broke the silence, plainly holding back simmering emotion. "Are we waiting for Kristopher?"

"I believe we may... have to begin without him," Lily replied with a motherly smile. "I'm sure we can..."

"Where is he?" Rory demanded. "Where is the great leader of the Collective?"

"Perhaps, in his meditations..." Lily began.

"He's sitting on the damn mountain, isn't he!?" Rory snapped. "Or he's off walking in the woods, watching it snow. Or maybe he's playing guitar. His 'meditations' are more important than this meeting!"

"Really, Rory," Lily snapped back. "We can begin without him. I propose..."

"You can't!" Rory barked back. "You're not his mate, Lily. You're just like me... another one of his foundlings. You have no right to speak for him. Not here. Not now."

"I am your elder," Lily snarled.

Demarco almost rocked back in shock, hearing the anger in Lily's voice. She'd come to think of the Collective werewolves as calmer, more contained, than the Wildfangs. It was easy to think of Lily as a sweet, grandmotherly old lady and a shock to remember that, like her, a wolf hid behind the other woman's eyes.

"But she is correct," Daniel Moonrunner put in calmly. "You are not Kristopher's mate. You do not have the right to speak for him in council."

At least Mr. Moonrunner was still calm, Demarco thought. Born a werewolf, he rarely seemed to struggle with his wolf. It was just part of him. The news that Lily wasn't Kristopher's mate was actually a surprise though. Demarco had always assumed... 

"Fine," Lily huffed, "but I am still an elder. I have a voice here."

"But I am a pack leader," Rory said fiercely. "So, I get to speak first. I claim my rights."

"Very well, Rory," Lily said stiffly. "What do you wish to say?"

"I think it's clear that we need a new leader," Rory growled.

"How dare you," Lily snarled back.

"Kristopher's not here!" Rory snapped. "He hasn't been here since Jake left. He's abandoned us... abandoned his position as leader. It's time for someone new to take his place."

Demarco did not like where this was going, and she could tell Wolfgang shared her fears. Kiril seemed to almost be enjoying this, his feral grin challenging Mr. Moonrunner to speak again.

"If Kristopher is ready to retire, he'll tell us," Lily said.

"He's not here! How much clearer do you need him to be?" Rory snarled back. "So, since he raised me to be his successor..."

"Until you turned your back on him and on everything he believes in!" Lily burst out. "You went out and founded your own pack, and you're welcome to it... but you are no leader of the Collective. If anyone will be the new leader of the Collective, it will be Jacob."

"Yeah? He left too!" Rory sneered. "At least I'm still here... and I didn't say I wanted to lead your damn Collective!"

"You said..." Wolfgang began.

"The Collective has ruled long enough," Rory snarled. "With your immortal elders and ancient bloodlines... cut off here on the mountain. It's time for new leadership and a new way for werewolves. It's time for the Wildfangs to rule!"

Demarco felt her breath catch as if she'd been punched in the gut. She hadn't expected this. Something, sure, but not this. What the hell was Rory thinking? She saw Wolfgang and Mr. Moonrunner exchange their own shocked looks, clearing sharing her thought. Beside her, she heard Kiril growl in fierce glee. 

Deafening silence fell across the table. With a fierce grin, Rory surged to her feet.

"We're done," Rory growled. "Meeting adjourned. Kiril, Demarco... with me."

Turning on her heel, she stormed out. 

Demarco, still too shocked for words, followed her out. The same thought continued to cycle through her mind - What the hell is Rory thinking?! 

She didn't see Kiril's wicked grin as he sauntered after her.

She didn't see how the elders of the Collective watched them go, in worried silence.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 14

"Well, who decided that?!" Rory demanded.

"That would be me!" Wolfgang snarled back.

As winter dragged on, it seemed to Demarco that everyone in Moonwood Mill was getting irritable. Lou called it cabin-fever - too many people stuck together in town, by the cold and the snow, for too long. The fact that a significant minority of the townsfolk were werewolves - already naturally temperamental and territorial - didn't help. Tempers were running short.

"Why do you get to decide!?" Rory snapped.

"I don't know Rory, maybe because I'm the librarian," Wolfgang answered, clearly struggling to keep a grip on his rising fury.

Demarco kept her eye on the book she was pretending to read. Her mom had told her once, after some senseless blow-up Demarco had had with her dad, that arguments were never about what arguments were about. At the time, she remembered, that hadn't made any sense to her at all.

"That gives you the right to shut the gym!?" Rory yelled.

"The gym is part of the library," Wolfgang snarled back. "We can barely afford to heat the main rooms. It's almost freezing in here already. There isn't enough in the budget to heat the gym too!"

Yeah, her mom's nonsensical words made more sense now. Demarco was pretty sure Rory wasn't this mad about the gym being closed. She hardly ever used it anyway, preferring the workout equipment at the den and the trailer. She was pretty sure the usually even-tempered (for a werewolf) Wolfgang had other things on his mind too... though she didn't know what.

"If you don't like the way I run the library, bring it up at the next Town Meeting," Wolfgang bellowed, losing his tightly held control.

"Right! It's not like you and the rest of the Collective don't totally control that!" Rory shouted back.

It's funny, Demarco thought. It's been years since I thought about my folks. Ever since Etta had opened up about her family, she'd found herself thinking more about her own sometimes. Not enough to try to reach out to them. Some bridges were burned and better left in ashes. She had a new family now, in the Wildfangs... not that they were necessarily less dysfunctional than her birth family.

Speaking of dysfunctional, she thought, Kiril seemed to be enjoying Rory and Wolfgang's fight a little too much.

Something was up with that guy, Demarco thought. Of course, she felt like something was usually up with Kiril. Still, that creepy smirk of his had seemed more sinister the last couple of weeks. 

Then there was the fact that he and Rory had their heads together a lot, especially when no one was around. If it was anyone but Rory, Demarco would have seriously considered that she and Kiril had a little something-something going on the side... but even if Kiril wasn't serious about the whole "wolves mate for life" idea, she knew Rory was.

No, this was something else. Demarco didn't know what, but it was getting her hackles up. (She actually knew what hackles were now that she had them - that fur down her back when she was a wolf - and she could actually feel them rising with tension, even when she wasn't.)

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"They were literally growling at each other," Demarco exclaimed later, telling Etta about what had happened at the library. "I thought for a second they were going to shift and go at each other."

"Oh wow," Etta breathed.

"You've lived here for a couple of years," Demarco continued. "Is winter always like this?"

"Well..." Etta considered the matter.

"Yes and no," she admitted. "Everyone gets a little 'eeiii' after being snowed in for a couple of months. Still, thinking about it, last winter wasn't this tense. I mean, people got irritable and snarly, but Kristopher would go around talking to people, or just listening to people. I remember him taking his pack on a run through the woods a few times... just to blow off steam."

"What about the Wildfangs?" Demarco asked. "I mean, I've never seen them together but from what she's said, Rory doesn't seem like she's on the best terms with Kristopher."

"Well, that's the thing," Etta said. "Kristopher hasn't been around as much this past year. I mean, he's around... somewhere... but he's hasn't been as involved as he was."

"Also, Jake was here," Etta continued.

"Rory's brother, kind of, right?" Demarco said. "She's mentioned him a few times."

"Yeah, they were both 'foundling' werewolves. Kristopher brought them in and taught them both," Etta said. "Anyway, Jake could talk to Rory even when Kristopher couldn't. He moved down to Henford after he got married, but he used to come up here a lot more. Not so much, since he and Beth had their baby.

"I guess, between them, Kristopher and Jake managed to keep things from boiling over," Etta sighed. "Now Jake's moved out and Kristopher's..."

"What?" Demarco asked.

"I'm not sure... It depends on how much I trust what Father taught me," Etta admitted. "Still... he said sometimes immortals... really old immortals... start to lose their grip. Mortals around them change so much and finally, something happens that's just too much for them. They lose their grip on the world, stop caring and just... drift off."

"Wait... immortals?" Demarco blinked. "Are werewolves immortal? Am I immortal?!"

"No, Etta shook her head. "Well, not most werewolves... not you... but some of the really powerful ones are. Rory might be strong enough. I know Lily's over a hundred and even she calls Kristopher 'Old Man' sometimes. Kristopher is... old. I don't know how old but I've heard Mr. Moonrunner call him 'Firstborn.'"

"... and you think Kristopher is, what did you call it, losing his grip?" Demarco asked.

"I don't know," Etta sighed again. "Like I said, it depends on how much you trust what Father taught me. I know he had an axe to grind with certain immortals... like the Sages and the heads of the Old Families... which is funny given that Father is over four hundred years old himself."

"OK that's... wait, are you... How old are you?" Demarco demanded.

"Nineteen," Etta smiled. "Give or take."

"Good," Demarco sighed, "because I don't think I could take it if you were a hundred-year-old witch."

"Nope, just a nineteen-year-old ex-witch," Etta replied. 

Sobering, Etta added, "You going to be OK?"

"I don't know," Demarco sighed again. "I guess I just have to wait it out and hope everyone calms down. Who knows... maybe things will be better when they get back tonight."

"Back?" Etta looked puzzled.

"They all headed down to the Harbor," Demarco said. "It's Kiril's big live recording."

"Why didn't you go?" Etta asked.

"I told Rory I needed a little me time," Demarco said. "Besides, you and I had plans."

"You picked me over your pack?" Etta looked a little shocked.

"I'm not proposing to you or anything," Demarco laughed, then added seriously, "And I'm not giving up on them. I love the Wildfangs. Still, after a month in that damn trailer listening to Kiril practice... yeah, I'd rather hang with you than watch him play. Even if I do miss out on meeting the Markus the Great Music Producer."