Page 59 of Blood Moon
Even in death, I am still my brother’s keeper.
Article V, Lost Letters from Aadan the First
When I came to, I was in the back seat of a vehicle with my arms tied behind me. A burlap bag covered my face, and my mouth was sealed with a piece of thick tape.
Through the gaps in the fabric, I glimpsed an established road, one that was well-lit and vaguely familiar.
“What the hell was up with Julian? Swear, that kid’s gonna blow it all. What gives him any right to have the power he has? It’s stupid,” said the one in the passenger seat.
“It don’t matter,” the driver grumbled, and I recalled his voice. It was the man from before, the one with the scar on his face. “The job’s done, and keep your trap shut before you wake her. I can smell that funk from over here. God, what’d you have? A bag of onions?”
The man in the passenger seat hit something, potentially slapped his knee. “Really? Saying that in front of the girl like you ain’t got a single flaw about you?”
“Will you shut up?” The driver opened the middle console. “Here, take a mint while you’re at it.”
“God, Sebastian, you’re an uptight dick.” The console slammed shut. “I hate working with you.”
“Aire,” Sebastian growled. “The girl,” he reminded.
Aire snarled in response.
We turned onto a road. Breaking through the burlap, a glowing sign, one I knew.
It was the entrance of Lakeland University.
Breathed heavy through my nostrils. What sick joke was this?
Were they bringing me back to campus to kill me?
Were they cocky enough to assume they’d remain hidden?
Moronic imbeciles. Whatever the cause for the diversion, it was the first time in hours I felt reassured.
If I could make it out of this car, I could flee, get away from all of this.
The vehicle slowed to a stop. The engine cut, and Sebastian hissed, “Watch the girl. Gotta grab something before we arrive.”
For a while, Aire thumped along to music, fingers tapping against the passenger door. But when his phone rang, he exited the vehicle to talk.
My chance. Right here, right now.
With my feet unbound, I wiggled to the side, falling over. In this position, I pulled my arms to the front of my body, hands free to remove the bag from my head, peel the tape from my mouth. I used my teeth to tug at the rope tied around my hands, loosening it until it came undone.
A laugh echoed outside the car, Aire cackling at something. He wasn’t talking to anyone anymore, but he was scrolling, watching videos.
His distraction created an opening. Opposite him, I gradually pulled the handle on the door until I felt a click. Frigid air rolled in, and in a rapid move, I slid to the ground, shutting the door just enough so that it latched without making much sound.
Out here, I could make out our precise location. We were close to the woods by O’Porter Stadium. Without the field lights, the night was pitch black, save for a few lampposts.
First, I removed my shoes and slid them under the car, knowing that my bare feet would be much more quiet against the asphalt. Then, hunched, I ran to the nearest tree with the sound of my heart thumping loudly in my ears.
Pressed against the rugged bark, I peered around the corner to see if Aire had noticed my absence, but he hadn’t. He remained laughing at his phone, face lit by the screen, but rushing down the sidewalk was Sebastian. “Get back in the car, you idjit.”
Aire crumpled his phone in his fist. “Buddy, this is your last straw.”
Sebastian laughed wickedly. “Shiver me timbers, cowboy.”
Aire climbed into the vehicle, slammed the door, and when the engine came on, I released a breath, sank into the tree.
They drove a few yards before coming to a rapid stop.
At that, I took off, sprinting toward the Campus Center. It was then that I spotted lights at the Sutton Art Museum. Someone was there, perhaps a janitor, maybe even Abba, but it was promising.
Didn’t stop to look behind when I pulled on the doors to find they were unlocked.
I sighed, tears piercing my eyes. Inside, the smell of lemons and soap welcomed me. It was as I hoped: someone cleaning.
“Hello?” I called, rushing through the halls until I almost slammed into Abba. In her hands were a lunch box, her purse, and a large leather-bound book.
She quailed at the sight of me, startled as she dropped her belongings.
“Help me! I’m being chased!”
Abba gasped, eyes large as she dropped to the ground, fumbling in her purse until keys jingled. “Who?” she said, looking urgently into the night. “Who is after you?” She rushed to the door I’d entered from, hands on the handles.
“There are wolves chasing me,” I cried. “Werewolves, like the ones in the story!”
Her face crumpled, and she locked the door. “Wolves?” she hissed, a new kind of horror set in her features. That distress twisted into a sinister smile. “Sweet Mirabella,” she purred. “And what makes you think being in here is any better?”