Page 36 of Blood Moon

After Environmental Science, I was surprised to find that Julian wasn’t waiting for me.

I’d become too expectant. A pity, really.

But once I rounded the sidewalk on the Campus Center, I saw him perched on the edge of the Founders’ Fountain.

The sun shone brilliantly on the back of his neck, his forehead.

Water splashed over the edge of the fountain, marking his tawny-colored shirt.

Directly behind him, the statue of the Timberwolf sat with a sort of regality.

I controlled my breathing, trying to find the words. “Making new friends?” I managed to say, an assessment perhaps more apparent to me than him.

“Friends or enemies? I’ve got plenty of both,” he said, picking at the petal of a flower he’d captured.

Sweat trickled down my back, beneath my armpits. “That’s concerning,” I muttered, and he shrugged and kicked off the fountain, releasing the petal to the wind.

I observed Julian closely as we walked to the Student Center. He was as human as they came. There were no claws. No patches of fur peeking from the collar of his shirt or on his forearms. No fangs or whiskers. He wasn’t like the book described, nor what the people in town had suggested.

“You’re quiet.” It was the first thing Julian said as we entered the dining hall. The space wasn’t as busy as I’d hoped it would be. A few people sat in booths and tables. Sharp light painted shapes on the wooden floor.

“Am I?” I scratched the side of my head. “Lots of thoughts, I guess.”

Julian squinted, but didn’t say what he was thinking.

Instead, he pointed to a small booth toward the back of the hall, facing a window.

It was away from the majority of people and much too intimate.

“How about there?” he asked, and I pressed my lips together as I hurried to search for a spot that was in closer proximity to the exit … and possible witnesses.

I spotted an empty table close to a group of faculty members eating a late lunch. “How about here instead?”

Julian didn’t oppose, which made me feel a little less apprehensive. He simply set his things down before splitting to get food.

I was unwell. Panic seeped from every pore on my body as I glossed over the food selections before me. How could one eat with this amount of stress? Everything looked gross and smelled awful— even the cake. And I loved cake.

But I needed to play the part, get a grip on myself, remain calm, so I settled for a baked potato and a fizzy drink.

My heart pounded each second Julian was away. There was an exigent need to escape, to ditch this place and run to my dorm. I could pack a bag, never return—fulfill the request Julian had begged of me all those days ago.

And I almost did, but the moment I pushed away from the chair, he returned. On his tray was an array of everything.

“This is nothing for me,” Julian explained, noticing the scrunch in my nose. It wasn’t that I was judging him, more that I was curious how he planned to tackle it all before the next class.

I nudged my potato with a fork. “Whatever makes you happy.”

He smiled to himself.

“ What? ”

“This sudden change in you is quite remarkable. Usually, you’re all wit, and now you have this deer-in-the-headlights look on your face. You haven’t asked me a single question. Something’s gotten into you, Bells?”

That elicited something in me. I forced a bite of my potato. Breathe, just breathe. “I—I actually do have more questions.”

“Yeah?”

I took a sip of my drink, wiped my hands on my legs in an attempt to stop my feet from bouncing.

“I know you can track animals, but does that mean you can track people, too? For instance …” I stammered, forced a swallow.

“Like, say you needed to find me, c-could you?” I wanted to know what my real chances were of getting away from here unscathed.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, a smirk hidden there. “Sort of?” Julian read the question on my face. “I can track most people, but your scent is different.”

“Different?” I dropped my head to check myself. A few whiffs in, and all I could smell was the food on his tray. “What’s that supposed to mean? Is that bad?”

“Depends on what you consider bad.”

I leaned in. “Wait, be serious for a moment … do I smell?”

He laughed. Covered his mouth. “No. I promise.”

I nodded. But if Julian was … I couldn’t even allow myself to think the word. But if he was … how did it work? I shifted my gaze to his, measuring him. There was a person in front of me—not a monster.

“Essentially, you can track anything with a heartbeat.”

“Yeah.”

It was setting in, and I wasn’t ready for the smoke to clear. I needed that thick, murky air to keep me tucked into the safest corner of my mind. I didn’t want to give in, to know …

“And you’re dangerous?” This, I was well-versed in. I knew the answer he’d give. He’d said it over and over again; the sound of it was ringing in my ears now.

“Very.”

My food stared at me as I spindled deeper into thought. The word was right there, dancing on the tip of my tongue—any sudden move, and it’d fly right out—but I needed more time.

We walked our trays to the dish conveyer and proceeded outside. Five minutes had passed, perhaps more, and still, I was unable to say anything. I imagined I looked disheveled and pale, or possibly green from nausea while we strode the sidewalk.

“What building are you going to next?” Julian asked. His voice was soft, but it startled me. I’d almost forgotten he was there, blocking the sunlight from hitting the side of my face.

“Stewart building again,” I mumbled, staring off into space. Julian was … I shook my head. No. I needed more from him. I cleared my throat. “What else can you do?”

He shrugged.

“Can you fly?”

He laughed. “No.”

“Can you read minds?”

“I wish.”

“Would you say you have good hearing?”

“Yes.”

“How good? Like, if I was standing in O’Porter Stadium, and you were outside of the Student Center, could you hear me?”

“Not if you whispered, but I could make out most of the words.”

“What about vision?”

“20/20.”

“Can you climb up buildings?”

“Yes.”

“Without the use of equipment?”

Julian raised a brow, stifled a laugh. “Yes …”

I took in a lungful of air, breathing in the rich smell of mums and hydrangeas from nearby. “But you …” I stared at his chest, watched it move, imagined the thudding there. “But you have a heartbeat. I felt it.” And then I remembered the fast stutter of it against my own body.

“Many things have a heartbeat, Mira. Not just humans.”

“But—” And I shook my head again. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t.

Julian gently touched my arm, and when I looked into his eyes, he leaned in. “Trust me … you know this,” he said, and no matter how earnest he was, I didn’t know if I wanted to know this.

I clamped my mouth shut, refused to say a word.

Julian looked at me sternly. Waited a beat.

“Think about it, Mira. I’m really strong.

I can track humans and animals. I can hear and see beyond human capacity.

I can climb and jump from tall buildings.

” Then he added, his jaw clenched, “I’m hungry all the time, and very little satisfies me.

It is a constant ache that I must live with.

I am relentlessly stuck between two worlds—the one you choose to live in, and mine. ”

I was stunned and breathless, but we were already at my building. We stood next to a tree, the shade cooling the back of my neck and my shoulders.

Julian was spot-on when he said I was choosing to live in this world—the one that believed in the legends as fairytales, not as truth—and I did because I was content here, in this lie. And if I shattered that, it meant everything I ever believed in would be upended.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, each word slicing through my thoughts. I didn’t move, didn’t respond. My instincts were right, and I needed to trust my gut and just say it.

He sighed and looked away from me when I didn’t respond. “I need to get going.”

“You’re not gonna walk me inside?”

“Not this time, Mira. I think you need some time away from me to process. You’ve asked all the right questions, and I know once you put two and two together, you’re gonna have so many more for me.

When you get out of class and you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be over there.

” He pointed past one of the wolf sculptures, to a bench that resided beneath a willow tree.

“And,” he started, but then he closed his eyes while he exhaled, a pained look in his face.

“And if you don’t want to talk to me after, you can walk past me, and I promise, I won’t ever talk to you again. ”

The sound of his voice made my stomach twist. “Okay,” I mumbled. When he walked away, my heart raced so quickly, I felt it thumping against my throat, beating in my ears.

Julian Santos was a werewolf.