Moonstruck

𝓽𝔀𝓸 | A Knife in the Night

Knock, knock, knock.

Ellie aggressively flipped a page in the book she was reading without truly taking in any of the words. For the past week, she had wandered aimlessly through the narrow aisles of Rosette's sole public library until its librarian, taking pity upon her, had gathered her a stack of as many books on werewolves as the small library could offer and sent her on her way. Despite the librarian's efforts, however, Ellie wasn't sure how much useful information she could glean from these books—mostly poorly written romance novels. The population of Rosette Village was, after all, predominantly human; for all the Sanguine Pack's preaching about peaceful coexistence between the werewolves and humans, no one could claim in good faith that either species was adequately educated about the other.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was probably another reporter who had somehow gleaned her home address from Sanguine archives, come to pelt her with inane, incredibly intrusive questions about herself and her family: what exactly was she, and what were her abilities? What was wrong with her mother? What had happened to her father? When would she mate with the Alpha, and when would she officially begin her term as the Luna of the Sanguine Pack?

"You don't have to tell them anything," Ellie's mother had told her. "Just ignore them and they'll stop coming. They'll drop it eventually." Just like her father's missing person case.

Many a sleepless night since Ellie had magically healed her mother, Ellie had stared at her own hands until sunrise. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to tell anyone how she had done it, though she was glad she did—else her mother likely wouldn't be with her anymore. Of course, she understood the implications of the incident: she had healing powers. She was blessed by the goddess Aurelia, destined to be the Luna of the Sanguine Pack.

But she couldn't. What would her mother do without her, stuck alone at home with the Jackass? No—even if she wanted to become Luna, she couldn't.

Knock, knock, knock.

Perhaps it wasn't a reporter at all, but an official from Cardina who had come to fetch her. Though she had no affiliation with the Sanguine pack, she was a civilian living in Sanguine territory; perhaps having Luna powers and not becoming Luna would be seen as something akin to draft evasion. Or treason. She'd heard about how barbaric werewolves could be. Granted, most of the horror stories she'd heard were probably just stereotypes, but still—better safe than sorry.

Knock—

"Alright!" Ellie called, flinging her book aside. She stood up from the saggy sofa and strode to the door. "I'm coming—"

She flung open the door, only to find herself face to face with none other than Seth Reagan.

"Um... " Ellie said. "Hi? How can I help you?"

Seth smiled coolly. Tall and marble-pale, he had slicked-back, silver-blond hair that gleamed in the pale morning sunlight. He was immaculately dressed in a cashmere suit so crisply ironed that Ellie became suddenly, painfully self-conscious of herself—her hair was still wet from her morning shower, and she suddenly realized how rumpled her tacky pajama top and sweatpants were. Her nerves only worsened upon seeing the large knife he had holstered upon his belt. "You must be Elaine Bellamy."

"Ellie."

"Pleased to meet you, Elaine. May I come in?"

Without waiting for a response, he slipped off his shiny oxford shoes—which looked more expensive than the mental healthcare Ellie's mother couldn't afford—and strode inside, taking a seat on the sofa. Ellie, utterly unfamiliar with Sanguine Pack etiquette but not willing to risk offending its Alpha with some preventable faux paus, had no choice but to accept her lot and take a seat across from him on a peeling, moth-eaten armchair.