(FREE TO READ) Bad Moon

chapter 62; honest

The maids had just started setting the table when Felix returned inside with Julia tagging behind. All conversation of lichund and werewolves came to a grinding halt.

It felt like betrayal, lying to her. But Jaylin answered all her questions about his time in the forest with well-contrived answers. He survived by drinking water from a stream and poaching fish. He lit fires with his pocket lighter and journeyed for days until he found a road where he could hitch hike to the nearest gas station and dial the only number he remembered by heart: Quentin.

"Oh, honey," Julia said when he was done. "My poor boy." And she choked him in another one of her suffocating embraces. He hadn't even pulled away by the time the front doors were swinging open and Sadie was hauling in a case of beer, Tisper and Matt just behind her.

He ran to them just as they were setting down their things, threw his arms around Tisper and Sadie who both swallowed him in a unified hug. It lasted almost too long, before he detangled himself from their arms and stopped in front of Matt. He was hanging his jacket on the coat rack, a brace strapped around his shoulder.

"What happened?" Jaylin asked.

Matt shrugged strangely at his question. Car accident."

Tisper snorted. "Now you want to be humble? He jumped out of a moving truck. He hasn't shut up about it since then."

"In all fairness, it was a truck he sent through the gates of hell to get you," Sadie added keenly. "That does make it kinda cool."

Jaylin gaped, reading Matthew's freckled face twice over. "That was you?"

Matt scratched at his neck, but before he could even try to humble himself, Jaylin tossed his arms around his neck in a hard hug. "I can't believe you did that, Matt."

"Okay, okay—ow. Don't kiss me; I can smell the booze on you."

"Just on the cheek."

"Jaylin—no!"

Matt fought off his affections until the front doors opened again and a cold draft swept in. He stepped through quietly, Bailey, sealing the door behind him. He didn't say anything, but when his eyes met Jaylin's, there was a kind of silent understanding between them. After a moment of lingering, he slipped by without a word to be greeted by an enthusiastic cheer from Leo.

They started a game of poker on the living room table—Leo, Imani, Bailey, and the other man they called Dylan, as well as the woman with the dark hair who shot him eerie glances now and then. Three other women arrived, but Jaylin never came to know their names. He could only assume they were Quentin's sentinels by the way the others greeted them. Full of praise and reward.

Every seat was taken at the table, plus two extra chairs the maids had to fetch from the supply closet—and the ones for themselves as they were invited to join the feast. Quentin was the last to seat himself, clad in fresh clothes and free of the smell of cooked meat. He wore a gray dress shirt—no tie—and the slacks Jaylin had only seen him in a handful of times. The ones that made him look so much older.

Everyone had come dressed nicely. Tisper wore something black and strappy from the back of her closet. Something Jaylin had only seen her in a handful of times. Sadie even stood three inches taller in her high heels, and Matt—well, Matt had at least come in something besides a hoodie and jeans. The purple sweater probably belonged to his father; it was much too clean and much too large for Matt.

Jaylin looked down at his own outfit—a blue t-shirt and a pair of Alexander's sweats. At least he hadn't been the only one. Felix still wore his same mangled jacket and shredded jeans—only this time caked a bit with dirt from the garden.