By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) Read online

A loud bang came from the right, followed swiftly by one on the left. It sounded as though someone was driving a sledgehammer into the metal lockers. Right. Left. Right. Left. Each hit harder than the last.

  I turned and fled down the hallway. The sounds followed me, but were soon replaced by the light sound of pattering feet.

  Something brushed my hair. Once, twice, lightly—then roughly as something snagged in the curls. I gasped as several hairs were yanked out by the root.

  Pain prickled across my scalp, and I whipped around.

  A dark shadow separated itself from the others, somehow blacker than the rest of the passageway. I tried to track its progress, but it seemed to flicker in and out of focus.

  Then it lurched at me.

  I cowered down, bracing for an attack.

  Nothing happened.

  Gasping, I lowered my arms and blinked into the darkness. Everything was still and silent. Somehow that frightened me even more.

  I dashed toward the nearest exit only to hear the presence again—ahead of me this time. The hallways ran a square loop through the school, but it wasn't possible for anyone to travel them that quickly.

  Panic rippled through me. There was more than one of them.

  I started backing toward one of the open classrooms just as a brief play of light flashed on the opposite wall, followed closely by a burst of laughter. Several girls entered the building through the side door I had come through earlier.

  "Hey, what happened to the lights?" an unknown girl said.

  "Seriously, this damn school is falling apart. What, they're too cheap to pay bills?"

  I recognized Jenna's throaty voice and rushed toward them.

  "Get out! There's something—"

  The lights blinked back on.

  "Mac? What the hell are you doing?" Jenna said, an amused smile playing on her lips. Several of the other cheerleaders stood with her, most of them wearing similar expressions.

  I scanned the hallways, but we were alone. "I—I came inside to use the bathroom." My voice sounded feeble as I searched the corridors for any sign of who—or what—had attacked me.

  Jenna laughed. "God, don't tell me you got scared in the dark."

  "No, I..." In the distance, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone pushing an exit bar on one of the doors leading outside. I started toward the sound, realizing a beat later that Jenna was still talking to me.

  "Earth to Mac!" She laughed when I focused back on her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  I shook my head, convinced I must be crazy. If it weren't for my throbbing scalp, I might have actually believed it true. But no, someone had been there. One look at Jenna's expression stopped me from blurting out everything.

  "Nothing." I laughed, a slight tremor in the sound. "I just got a little freaked when the lights went out."

  She rolled her eyes and gave her squad members a knowing look. "Come on, little girl. We'll protect you."

  We went to the restroom so they could freshen up. The group chatted incessantly, oblivious to my discomfort. Afterward, we made our way back to the game.

  I stuck very close to the girls, unease settling in a thick knot between my shoulder blades. It felt as though someone or something was watching, angry and dissatisfied, and waiting for an opportunity to strike again.

  Chapter 2

  David slammed his car door and followed me up the walk to Ty's house.

  "This is a joke," he said. "The guy blew off the game. That doesn't mean you need to check up on him."

  "Just come on," I said. The game had ended less than an hour ago, and he wasn't happy I wanted to call it an early evening. For once, I insisted.

  Ty's house was steeped in shadows, but his car sat parked in the driveway. The burnt orange '68 Cutlass Supreme was his pride and joy. I knew he wouldn't leave it behind. As he liked to say, he'd spent too much time rebuilding the thing to let it out of his sight.

  I pounded on the front door, but heard no response from within.

  Considering my options for a split second, I grabbed the spare key from the fake rock in the flowerbed. He could be sick, and I knew his parents weren't home. Ty's dad was out of town on a business trip and his mother worked the night shift. They'd understand—maybe even appreciate me checking up on their son.

  David stood at the end of the porch, hands tucked in his pockets as he examined the interior of Ty's car in the moonlight. He backed away when he saw me watching.

  "You're not going to break in," he said.

  "Can't call it breaking in when you have a key," I said, dangling the key ring from my finger.

  I knew Ty's house as well as my own and quickly weaved my way through the dark interior and up the stairs. David trailed behind me. A loud thud followed by a great deal of swearing marked his progress across the living room. He would be lucky not to break anything.

  I didn't feel right about bringing him inside, but being alone at this point wasn't an attractive alternative. Every time I stopped to think about my encounter with the mysterious presence at school, I started to shake. Drunk or not, David provided some measure of protection.

  Ty's bedroom door stood slightly ajar, and I poked my head inside. Everything seemed in order—as far as a teenage boy's room goes. His bed was unmade, and piles of clothing lay in small heaps on the floor.

  "Ty?" My voice sounded eerie in the quiet house, and the darkness seemed to swallow it whole.

  "Anyone home?" David looked into the rooms lining the hallway. "What a dump."

  I flicked on Ty's light and blinked as my eyes adjusted. Downstairs, their Grandfather clock struck eleven. The sound was ominous. Where was he?

  "So this is the great Ty's room." David wandered around and stopped at the window. He squinted into the night.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Just checking the view."

  He'd never admit it out loud, but I figured his curiosity stemmed from the fact my house was across the way. I knew my bedroom window would be just visible through a break in the trees. As kids, the line of sight had served a useful purpose, allowing Ty and me to pass signals to one another with our flashlights. As teenagers, it proved to be a nuisance, our friends always wishing to spy on the other. I'd spent many nights with a group of giggling girls who wanted nothing more than to catch Ty walking around in his skivvies—or less. It had taught me to keep my own shades drawn while changing.

  "You don't ever watch him, do you?" David turned to me, suspicion in his eyes.

  "Don't be stupid." Even as I spoke the words, warmth spread across my cheeks. I made myself look busy by scrawling a note on a pad from Ty's cluttered desk and propping it on a pillow. My message was simple—"Call me. Mac."

  David laughed softly, no real humor in the sound. "Look what we have here."

  "What?" Hoping my skin had returned to normal, I turned to face him.

  He pulled a photo from its spot on a bulletin board on the far wall. "Isn't this cute?" He raised an eyebrow, a slight challenge in his voice.

  I snatched it from his hands. "I didn't bring you so you could snoop through his room." I tucked the picture back in place. It was of Ty and me. Both of us were grinning like complete idiots after tromping the opposing team in a baseball game the previous summer. He had his arm around my shoulders, and the moment was so vivid in my mind that I could practically feel the warm sun on my face and hear his deep laughter. I smiled, a complete contradiction to my mood.

  I felt David studying me, but refused to get drawn into another argument. "We should go," I said.

  "What's the hurry? Looks like we have the house to ourselves." He grasped my hips and pulled me in close. His teeth grazed my neck.

  Framed in the open window, I dreaded the image we created. He couldn't have picked a worse time as far as I was concerned. And in Ty's bedroom no less.

  I pushed him away. "I have a headache."I almost groaned out loud. Who would think a seventeen-year old virgin would use such an excuse?

  "Yeah? Wonder how
long that would last if he were here."

  Oh brother. "Don't be dumb. We're just friends."

  "Right." He brushed past me and down the stairs.

  Bringing him had been a big mistake. I could've kicked myself for being so stupid.

  After we locked up Ty's house and said a hasty goodbye on my front porch—with very few words exchanged between us—I went inside. All was quiet, my parents having gone to bed already. I tiptoed upstairs, undressed and crawled into bed using nothing but the soft moonlight peeking through my bedroom windows. I couldn't explain it, but the fear of someone watching from across the way almost overwhelmed me.

  Silly when I knew no one was home.

  o0o

  Admittedly, I'm not a morning person. When I woke up the next day, I lay snuggled beneath my comforter, willing myself to go back to sleep. I could practically count the number of minutes I'd slept on my hands. What little I managed had been haunted by a shadow creature that stalked me in the night. The rest had been spent worrying about Ty.

  I clenched my eyes closed, but my body refused to cooperate. Giving up, I threw back the covers.

  With a grunt in the direction of the blaring TV in the living room, I made a beeline for the kitchen and my daily dose of morning java. Mom was a fanatic when it came to her morning exercise shows. She always forgot to turn the blasted set off, though. With steaming mug in hand, I scanned the room for the remote and popped the power off. From above, the sound of running water and my father's sad rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody drifted down to me.

  Some days I was sure I must have been adopted. How could I be related to these people?

  I stepped outside to pick up the morning paper. The cool air sent gooseflesh spreading across my arms.

  Our paperboy had the worst aim in the world. It took me a few seconds to locate our paper tucked under a bush on the far side of the driveway. I stooped to get it. A slight stirring in the trees made me jump back in surprise.

  Ty's tousled head popped out of the brush. I shrieked.

  Placing a hand to my racing heart, I glared at him. "Ty! You scared the crap out of me. What the hell are you doing out here?" I got a brief glimpse at his full form before he ducked behind a tree. My skin went warm, from the tip of my toes to the peaks of my ears. I averted my eyes. "And why in the world are you naked?"

  "Ssh! You'll wake the entire neighborhood screaming like that."

  "It's not my fault."

  I craned my neck and caught sight of one of his hips before he moved further into the shadows.

  "You're a pervert, Mac."

  My face burned hot, but I couldn't help trying to catch another glimpse of him in all his birthday-suit glory. My girlfriends would kill to get such a view. At six foot two, Tyler O'Neill was the stuff of fantasies. With his thick brown hair, deep green eyes, and rugged build, Ty made more than a few hearts skip when he walked into a room. Mine felt like it might explode at any moment. "That doesn't explain what you're doing out here...like that."

  "Just get me something to put on."

  "Fine." I paused mid-stride and crossed my arms over my chest. "In a minute. First, you have some explaining to do."

  Just one of his green eyes peeked out from behind the tall maple shielding him from view.

  "Make it quick," he blurted out in a stage whisper.

  I pulled my face in line. "Okay. Let's start with where you were last night."

  I sensed his frown more than I saw it. "Since when have you been keeping tabs on me?"

  "Just answer my question." Flames burned high on my cheeks, but I couldn't make myself speak the humiliating truth out loud. We hadn't spoken in weeks, and every time we had crossed paths, it seemed like he couldn't get away from me fast enough.

  I cleared my throat. "Well?"

  He hesitated. "I needed to be alone. It's no big deal."

  He was lying. I could always tell.

  "And how is it you ended up outside...naked?"

  "Can't we talk about this after you get me something to wear?"

  "Do you promise to tell me?"

  "Yes."

  "Fine. Don't go anywhere." I half-smiled to myself as I headed inside.

  Mom had thrown in some laundry the previous evening. I found a pair of my dad's sweatpants and an old Led Zepplin T-shirt in the dryer.

  When I returned, Ty snatched them out of my hand. "Turn around."

  I did as instructed, but as if pulled by a magnet, my head started a slow turn over my right shoulder.

  "Mac."

  I whipped forward, disappointed he had chosen to put the sweats on first. "You ready to tell me why you're out here?"

  "No."

  I turned to see him thrashing through the trees. I pursued him, managing to get ahead of his fast pace to block the path. "Come on, Ty. What's going on?"

  He glared down at me. "Leave me alone."

  My mouth dropped open. "You ass. You promised."

  "I lied."

  "But..." Something around his collar caught my attention. "Jesus, you're bleeding!"

  I reached out to inspect the damage and he pushed my hands away. "It's nothing."

  "Let me look." I pulled the shirt down and cringed at the bloody sight before me. Deep cuts gouged into his neck and down the smooth slope of his chest. The skin was puffy and raw. I bit down revulsion. "What happened?"

  He wouldn't look at me. "Nothing."

  "Obviously." I let out an impatient sigh. Why was he being like this? "You should go to the hospital—that needs stitches."

  "Dammit, Mac! Just leave me alone."

  "But..."

  "No. I'm fine." His words cut off any further protests. His hands balled into tight fists when he saw my reaction. "I'm sorry. But, I'm fine—really."

  "At least let me clean it for you." The words were out before I could stop myself.

  He clenched his jaw, apparently weighing his options. "Fine."

  Oh God. It was too late to change my mind now. "Let's go to my house."

  "No." He nodded in the direction of his father's tool shed. The building was just visible through the trees. "I'll meet you in there. Don't tell anyone."

  Too stunned by the morning's events to protest, I went back inside to retrieve our first aid kit from under the kitchen sink. Luckily, my parents hadn't come down yet—there would be no easy way to explain this situation.

  I sneaked back the way I came. Once outside, I sprinted through the trees separating our houses, keeping to their cover until I was within a few feet of the building set at the back of the O'Neill property. With a quick scan of the yard to make sure no one saw me, I ran inside and closed the door. "Ty?"

  "Over here."

  He sat on a small workbench in the back of the building. I threaded my way around his father's numerous tools and opened the kit on a nearby table. "You'll need to take that off," I said, indicating his T-shirt.

  With gauze and antiseptic in hand, I watched as he pulled the T-shirt over his head. I gasped. Five gashes ran parallel down his torso, from his shoulder to just a few inches above his belly button. His normally tan skin seemed pale against the gaping wounds. He cringed slightly as the top of the T-shirt pulled away from his neck.

  "Oh my God," I whispered softly. "What the hell happened to you?"

  His head emerged through the neck hole and he surveyed the area for himself. He balled the T-shirt and threw it on the table, ignoring my question.

  I touched the area around the wounds and he took in a sucking breath. I bit my lip in sympathy. "Sorry."

  I soaked the gauze in alcohol and gently dabbed at the cuts. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tight, paling under my ministrations.

  "Are you in trouble?" I asked, coughing lightly at the pungent smell of the disinfectant.

  "No."

  "You can tell me anything, Ty. You know that, right?"

  A hint of a sad smile played around his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not involved with a gang, if that's what you're thinking."
>
  "Actually, I was guessing a grizzly got the better of you."

  That got half a laugh, but he tensed when I accidentally applied a little too much pressure. "Sorry," I whispered.

  He growled low in the back of his throat.

  I made sure to be careful after that. I felt faint a couple of times, especially while working on the area on his upper chest and neck where the cuts were deepest. Even though I pressed lightly, warm blood soon soaked through the cloths, oozing from the wound. Somehow I made it through without passing out. It was one of the greatest accomplishments of my young life.

  "You need a doctor," I said.

  "I'm fine."

  "Stop saying that." Without stitches, the wounds would never heal. I did my best to bandage the area, threw my remaining supplies back into the box, and slammed it closed. "This is stupid. We're going to the hospital."

  "No." He stood and shrugged back into the T-shirt.

  "If you won't go, then tell me what happened."

  He cut me off with a warning glance. "It's none of your business."

  "Are you going to make me play the parent card?"

  A fire ignited in his eyes and he moved toward me quickly; I retreated until I bumped into the table behind me.

  "Stay out of this," he said.

  I cringed beneath his hard stare. "Are you threatening me?"

  His face softened for a split second, but soon he had it pinched back in line. Without a word, he thrust the kit into my hands and pushed me toward the door. Too stunned to protest, I went, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

  "And Mac?"

  I paused in the doorway.

  "Don't ever bring David into my house again."

  Chapter 3

  Sitting in AP Biology on Monday, I watched David walk an embalmed frog across the dissecting tray in a weird marionette dance.

  He sang along. "Walk this way, talk this way. I told you to..."

  "You're going to get us in trouble." I eyed Mr. Varner, our grey-haired teacher. He made his way around the room, hand tucked into the pocket of his brown tweed jacket, stopping at each station to check on students' progress. Good thing he was hard of hearing.