Moon Blood (COMPLETE)

Chapter Sixteen: A Murderer

He didn't leave the house for two weeks after that.

He'd kept his bedroom door bolted, and spent most of his time hidden under his duvet. The events of that night had terrified him to the point that his mother had enlisted the help of the school counselor. He hadn't opened the door for her.

His mum had bought him a new phone since his last one had been left at that country house, but it had remained unopened, still in its box. His hair grew greasy and his skill sallow. Whatever fat remained on his body wasted away and his lips were chapped and scabby.

He couldn't go out there again. He couldn't be at the mercy of those beasts. But if he stayed here, in a little under two weeks they would come for him again, and the cycle would repeat ad nauseum.

Hiding here like a coward wouldn't solve anything.

He threw the duvet off him and went to the mirror, staring at the boy with the lank, mussy hair. Purple bags pulled at his cheeks and if his skin was anymore translucent, he was sure he'd see his heart, like a newborn fish. He had about as much courage as one.

His parents were out at work. Perfect. He ran his head under the cold tap to clear it and threw on some clothes, leaving a note for his parents that promised to be back by the morning. It was a gamble: he said he was going to see 'his girlfriend', and they would both know Neil was referring to Ruby.

He'd thought about her often when he was pretending he didn't exist under his comfort blanket. Even Daisy and Lily had entered his thoughts, though not half as much. He had missed Ruby, deeply. So deeply in fact, that his stomach dropped with the idea of just being together with her. He wanted to see her, before anyone else.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any clue where she might be. They'd snuck him back into his house and Neil's parents had been none the wiser, so it was no wonder they were so shocked when he was too scared to even leave his bed the following day.

Neil had only one trump card: He'd somewhat got the idea of transforming into his alternate form, and with his superior sense of smell, he may be able to find her. He looked to the floor, at the bedsheet he'd folded neatly, and cringed.

Was he really going to make a bindle? In this day and age? A bindle? He bit his lip in embarrassment. It was so lame, but if he was going to travel as a wolf, he needed a package that he could carry in his mouth.

A bloody bindle.

Still, he had little options. Now came the trickier part as he fastened the sheet by the corners.

He stripped naked.

He knew what he could use to trigger a transformation without the moon meddling, and it lay within the woman he just could not stop thinking about. But it was a very specific thought. The thought of being pressed against her body, of touching her lips, her hips, her soft skin.

He dropped to his haunches. It was definitely getting easier with time. He gathered up his ignominious package and padded to his window. Everyone was at work on his parochial road, and the pavements were quiet. Good fortune if anything, as a wolf would a hundred percent stick out like a blind cobbler's thumb in this leafy suburb. He loped into the nearby woods and melted into the vegetation.

He'd wanted to wait until dark, but with his parents due home at five and the sun still burning bright until nine, Neil had little choice. He sniffed the ground and tried to catch a scent of Ruby, but found nothing. He knew her smell as well as he knew his own. He rooted and snuffled, but it was a dead duck.

Speaking of which, Neil was hungry.

Something rustled amongst the thicket, and he tensed. His ears pricked and his jaw snapped shut to prevent saliva from running down it. Something else seemed to be controlling his body, something innate and feral. Neil balanced on his haunches and listened to the ruckus in his ears.

He could smell something small and furious. A bundle of energy nibbling some grass with its legs and its wariness the only defence. He crept on silent padded feet to the glade where the smell got overwhelming.

It was a rabbit, ripping blades of grass up mercilessly and chewing them in a way he had never noticed before. Neil had always envisioned rabbits as the cute bunnies that lived in magicians' hats, but this one had torn ears and looked battle worn. This bunny looked weirdly intimidating. His muscles froze, as still as a statue. The element of surprise would have to do in the absence of a pack. Memories he'd never experienced flooded him of running wild and free with Lily, Daisy and Ruby. Unspoken rules of formation guiding their way as they closed in on their prey.

Neil pounced, and bit down on the rabbit's neck. It kicked and struggled, not having broken its neck with the crunch of his jaw. It fought back as he squeezed, raking across his muzzle, or trying to.

Blood met his tongue, trickled over his teeth. Rachel appeared to him without warning as the warm, tinny substance ran down his throat. She grabbed his scruff and hauled him up to eye length, as if he was a puppy. He had no aware that being picked up there would render him so immobile, and he just dangled there as Rachel glared at him. This wasn't real, surely.

I like you. A lot. But why did you rip out my throat, Neil?

Suspended at her whim, Neil barely processed what she'd said to him. She continued,

You didn't even stop there. You tore into my skin. You ate my jaw. You know what you did. You're a murderer!

She dropped him, and Neil fell, forever, it felt like. He plummeted down into nothing as the realisation kicked in of his actions. She hadn't disappeared, he'd made her disappear. She'd kissed him. An innocent teenage kiss after the cinema.

A murderer.