MOONLIGHT LEGACY Page 6

  "Yes, of course," Hadden said reluctantly. "Just let me wrap up a few things here first."

  After showing the sheriff out, Hadden slumped down into his chair behind his desk, cradling his face in his hands. What was he going to do?

  Everything was spiraling out of control too rapidly for him to comprehend. Dammit, he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to see the torn body of a kid that he'd taken care of during his bouts with the flu, measles and other childhood ailments. But more importantly, he didn't want to see the body of a kid that Miranda might have killed.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Miranda threw the pencil down in disgust. Why couldn't she work? Ever since she had awakened a few hours ago, she'd been in a state of anxiety. She worried about the coming night…worried about Hadden, and the danger he exposed himself to by being around her. She worried about her mother lying sick in a hospital bed in Florida without her or Gram by her side, to help her deal with the insidious cancer that was slowly stealing her life away.

  When she had finally sat down to work, Miranda'd hoped it would take her mind away from her pressing problems as it always had in the past. But it didn't work this time, and she had a deadline to meet on her latest illustration project, a child's book entitled The Enchanted Prince. Dammit, she had to work.

  She picked up her pencil and looked down at her paper. She dropped it again, this time in shock, as she stared at what she'd drawn earlier.

  Instead of a handsome fair-haired prince, she'd unknowingly drawn…him—the stranger of last night.

  Miranda trembled at the realism of what she'd captured on paper. Somehow, she wasn't sure exactly how, she'd accurately depicted the pure undiluted savagery of the creature.

  Miranda stared at the drawing, noting the ferocious glint in his hot green gaze. Wild eyes that frightened her, yet held her spellbound in some strange inexplicable way.

  Sweet Jesus, what was happening to her? She could feel her hold on reality slipping away, leaving her in a nightmarish world she didn't know or understand.

  She reached out and wrenched the paper out of its pad, ripping it apart angrily.

  "No." She would not let this creature drag her into his darkness…his world. Somehow, somewhere, she'd find the strength to fight him and the changes going on inside her body. There had to be a way. There just had to be.

  "Miranda, is something wrong? I thought I heard voices in here."

  She turned to see her grandmother standing in the doorway of her workroom, watching her with worried eyes. She forced a smile on her face. "It's all right, Gram. Just talking out loud." She tried to laugh, but it came off sounding false and hollow. "I tend to do that a lot lately."

  "Jan is on the phone," Gram said in a hesitant voice. "She told me you two are friends, and she would really like to talk to you."

  Miranda drew in her breath sharply. Jan was her best friend. "No, I don't want to talk to her or anyone else."

  Gram shook her head sadly. "Honey, is that wise? I don't think you should cut yourself off from the people who care about you, especially not now."

  A bitter laugh escaped her. "And just what do you suggest I do? Invite her over here and tell her I'm a werewolf? Get out the silver bullets, people…Miranda Slate is on a rampage. You think she'd want me to teach the art classes at school then?"

  "Miranda!"

  Instantly, Miranda felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, Gram. I'm feeling sorry for myself." She looked up and tried to smile. "Please, just tell her I'm sick. I'll call her back later, okay?"

  "If that's what you want, dear." Her grandmother left the room, only to return a few moments later.

  Wordlessly, she came straight to Miranda and took her into her warm embrace.

  Miranda accepted it gratefully; taking comfort in the scent of violets that engulfed her, a scent that reminded her of her childhood. A time when she had been protected and loved.

  When at last her grandmother pulled away, Miranda could see the tears shimmering in her faded blue eyes.

  "Sweetie, the hospital called earlier. Your mother has taken a turn for the worse."

  "Oh God, no," Miranda whispered. Anguish tore at her self-control, and her own problems disappeared. "I have to go to her."

  Gram brushed away her own tears with a shaky hand. "Miranda, you can't…not now."

  Miranda sucked in her breath, her chest tightening as she realized the truth of her grandmother's words. What if she changed on the plane? Or worse, changed while she was at the hospital?

  No, she couldn't take the chance of somebody finding out about her. She'd be considered a freak, something scientists would want to pick apart and study.

  But dear God, how sick it made her feel inside to know that when her mother needed her most, she couldn't go to her.

  "You're right, Gram." Her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears, but she couldn't help it. "But you must go to her. Let her know how much I love her."

  "She already knows that, dear," Gram said with a gentle smile.

  "Yes…" Miranda whispered. She remembered the woman who'd taught her how to bake her favorite chocolate chip cookies. The woman who'd taught her to enjoy life, to live it to the fullest.

  She could hear the ghostly echoes of the laughter they'd shared, when her mother had taught her to dance so she wouldn't be embarrassed at her first boy-girl party.

  Her throat convulsed painfully, and she could feel the burning ache of tears behind her eyes. The same sadness and tears she had shared with her mother, when she was fifteen and her father passed away because of the same dark malignancy now claiming her mother's life.

  She blinked back the flood of fresh hot tears. "Go to her, Gram. She needs you more than I do right now. I can't bear the thought of her dying alone."

  Gram looked uncertain. "I can't leave you alone, not with this terrible thing happening to you."

  "Go, Elizabeth, I will be here with Miranda."

  Both women turned in surprise. Hadden stood in the doorway. Miranda thought how tired he looked, and her heart ached because she knew it was her fault.

  Miranda remained silent, searching the darkness of his gaze, seeing the love he had for her shining forth like a beacon in the dark of night, guiding her to safety. She longed for the sweet, intoxicating warmth she could find in the shelter of his arms, the sharing of his unwavering strength and courage.

  She tore her gaze away, unable to let herself bask in his love. Conflicted emotions warred inside of her. She wanted him to leave, yet she also wanted him to stay. Miranda wanted, no, needed him to make her world all right again.

  But she had no right to it, no right to let him risk his life for hers. He held no place in the nightmare that held sway over her life. Not now…not ever. She'd released him from that obligation when she'd called off the wedding.

  "Good, then it's all settled," Gram said. "Now, if I hurry, I can be in Orlando by tomorrow afternoon." She leaned down and kissed Miranda's cheek. "If you need me…"

  Miranda managed a shaky smile. "I'll call you."

  After Gram hurried away to pack, a tense silence fell between Hadden and Miranda. Miranda slid out of her chair and wandered to the window, staring with unseeing eyes, as the sun sank below the range of mountains in the east.

  Miranda always loved this time of day in the autumn…when, at the very last moment before night stole over the land, the waning light of the dying sun caught the leaves on the trees that covered the side of the mountain range and transformed them into a brilliant blaze of color. It was so unlike New York, where the seasons passed without anyone really noticing, except for the inconvenience of rain or snow. It was one of the reasons she'd wanted to return to the tiny valley where she had nothing but happy memories of a long lost childhood.

  But now the setting sun served as only a painful reminder of what was to come, when once more darkness would slip over the mountain tops, and the moon would make its silvery climb into the backdrop of black velvet.

  She turned b
ack abruptly. "You can't stay, Hadden. I can't let you…this is my problem and mine alone. I can do this alone."

  His jaw hardened. "I'm staying. You might not know it yet, but you need me."

  "No, I don't," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I told you, I can handle this on my own. I have too."

  "Can you handle the fact that someone or something killed Bobby Wilson last night?" he asked, his voice harsh with emotion.

  Shock and sorrow spilled through her at his words, stealing her breath away. "No, that's impossible. I saw him alive last night. He couldn't be dead."

  "Are you sure, Miranda? Is it possible that the killing lust overcame you, and blanked out what really happened?"

  Hadden hated himself for asking, but he had to know the truth. He was dealing with something he'd had no experience with. No way to judge what would happen or could happen. He would never have had to ask such a question of Miranda a few days ago. In her human form, he knew she'd rather die than hurt another living being.

  But when the change came over her, he didn't know what she could be capable of doing. Or if she could control the killing lust her mother had mentioned in the journal. The only thing he did know for certain was that she'd not hurt him last night, and she could have very easily.

  "Noo…" A single tear traced a path down her face. "My God, I didn't kill him, Hadden. You have to believe me. I loved Bobby."

  There was something about the way she looked, the vulnerability and pain in her eyes, that made him believe her.

  He let out the breath he'd been holding in a noisy rush. "I do believe you. But if you didn't, then your unknown friend is the obvious suspect."

  She sighed quietly, a sorrow-filled sob that touched the very center of his soul.

  And in the next moment, he had her in his arms, inhaling the woodsy scent of her shampoo. He cupped her chin and tipped it upward. "You need me, baby. And I'm here to stay, no matter how hard you try to get rid of me."

  "Don't you see, Hadden?" Miranda looked up at him. "If he killed little Bobby, he'll not hesitate to kill you too. And what about the risk you face from me? I can't let you put yourself in such terrible danger for my sake."

  Hadden's gut jerked at the sight of more tears glistening in her eyes. "Don't worry yourself about me, you're the one we should be concerned about. The sheriff told me that he's had several reports about a wolf in the area. One of those reports came from a man who claimed he saw a werewolf, not a wolf."

  Her eyes rounded in surprise and alarm. "Then he already suspects…"

  Hadden shook his head. "He doesn't suspect anything, not yet anyway. He thinks the guy who did the reporting had to be drunk or high on drugs. Something I deliberately tried to encourage. But just the same, he does intend to get up a hunting party and go after this alleged wolf."

  She wrenched out of his grasp, and turned back to the window to gaze blindly outside. "They're going to hunt him down like a wild beast and kill him."

  The tinge of sorrow in her voice angered him. He couldn't let her empathize with that amoral bastard, or she would slip even further away from her human ties…and him.

  Frowning, he took her by her slender shoulders, turning her to face him. "Miranda, you didn't see Bobby Wilson's body…"

  A look of indescribable pain crossed her face, and she clapped her hands over her ears. "Please, no, I don't want to hear this. Oh, Hadden, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have run away. I could have saved him."

  Gently, Hadden removed her hands from her ears. "Miranda, you're going to listen to me whether you want to or not. None of this is your fault. How could you have known what he would do to Bobby, what he wanted you to do? And if you had interfered, how do you know he would not have killed you too?" He shuddered.

  "When I saw what had been done to Bobby's body…" He paused for a moment as he remembered his own grief and shock at seeing that tiny mangled form. "I knew from the moment I saw Bobby that we were dealing with a creature who will kill without mercy or remorse. He's a monster, Miranda. Somebody has to stop him before he can kill again."

  "Don't you think I know that?" she asked. Her voice rose in frustration. "But he is what I'm becoming. How long will it be before I can't resist the impulse to kill? And how long will it be before the sheriff and his men will hunt me down in the same manner? A week, a month maybe?"

  He noted the wild fear in her features, and shook her gently. "Stop it, Miranda."

  She collapsed against his chest, sobbing quietly. "I'm so scared. What if I can't continue to control it…what if I murder a human being?"

  "You have every right to be afraid, honey. But we are going to get through this. The journal said that with time you would gain control of the transformations. In the meantime, we will just have to keep you here when the change comes over you."

  She raised her head to look at him, her face pale and tearstained. "My mother was talking of a full blooded werewolf. She didn't know how it would be for me because of my father. How are you going to keep me here? When I'm in that state, I have an incredible amount of strength."

  "Well, tonight I'm going to lock you in the root cellar under the house. It doesn't have any windows and the door is heavy. I also stopped by the hardware store and bought the best damn padlock they had."

  She stepped away from him, backing into the window, her face even paler than before. "You know how I feel about enclosed spaces. I'll…go mad, Hadden…" she stammered. "Please, can't we do something else? You could chain me to the bed or…"

  He pushed a hand through his hair, cursing himself silently for forgetting about her fear. He should have remembered. Sure, he'd been hit with a lot in the last twenty-four hours, but it was no excuse for forgetting something so important.

  "Miranda, it's too late to go back to town and get chains, Sam closed the hardware store an hour ago. If you have some boards we could use for the windows, we could use your bedroom instead."

  She shot him a grateful look. "Yes, out back in the shed. There's some left over from one of Granddaddy's projects. I've been meaning to get out there and clean it out but…"

  He tipped her chin and kissed the tip of her nose. "It's a good thing you didn't find time. Will you be all right while I go check it out?"

  She nodded, unable to speak because of the overwhelming rush of relief that flooded through her, even though she knew she should send him away.

  "Thank you, Hadden."

  He grinned and headed for the door.

  "Hadden."

  He turned back, a questioning look on his handsome features.

  "Hurry," she whispered.

  * * *

  Miranda watched as the red glare of taillights disappeared out of sight. Sorrow was so strong she almost choked. She would have given anything to be able to rush to her mother's side…anything.

  She shivered in the chilled air…then she felt Hadden's comforting, solid arm curling around her shoulders.

  "Miranda, we have to get inside. The moon will be up soon."

  She'd come outside in a short sleeve blouse and faded jeans, without taking the time to hunt up a sweater or coat.

  Now Hadden's fingers were caressing the bare skin of her arm. It felt so exquisite yet so normal, that she wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to make love to her. She needed him to make her forget the way her life had turned inside out. She needed him to make everything the way it used to be.

  But deep down inside her, she knew he couldn't…nobody could.

  "We don't have much time left," he said, crashing into her thoughts, bringing her back to reality with a jarring wrench.

  There would be no lovemaking tonight, she thought numbly, as she let him lead her back up the porch steps and into the house.

  Tonight he was her jailer, not her lover. And she could only pray that he could keep her from escaping once the change was completed.

  A scream escaped her as a shaft of white-edged agony jig sawed through her middle. She stumbled against him.

&nb
sp; He grabbed her and held her close. "Miranda?"

  "Get me…to the…bedroom," she choked out, "Hurry!"

  He sucked in a startled breath, scooped her up and ran toward the bedroom. He placed her on the bed gently.

  Miranda tried to smile her thanks, but another pain shot through her, twisting and turning, until she had no choice except to scream out her torment.

  Dimly, she was aware of him leaving her side; sounds of his movements filtered back to her through a red haze. She tried to sit up and tell him to leave the room…to lock the door. But nothing came out of her dry, chapped lips but an agonized croak.

  Immediately, he was beside her, smoothing back the wet tangle of her hair. "I'm here, baby. Try to fight it, Miranda, don't let it control you. Concentrate on my voice."

  She tried. God only knows how much she tried, but there was no escaping the agony scraping at her insides. It was like having an enraged animal inside her trying to escape its prison. "I can't," she whispered, turning away from him so as not to see his disappointment. "Get out…before it's too late."

  And then the change came on her so suddenly there was no time to realize what was happening. There was only pain and more pain that went beyond the borders of human endurance, beyond the ability to reason.

  Her perception widened…opened up into a new dimension; allowing her to see, hear, taste, and smell beyond anything she'd ever known. It was as if in human state, she was blind and deaf. Now for the first time, she could truly see and hear.

  She stretched and leapt from the bed. She felt that wild singing of now familiar exhilaration racing through her blood stream.

  And then she felt the hunger. A hunger so overpowering she could barely breathe. She gazed wildly about the room, noting the boarded up windows, the shiny new lock on the door and her jailer, standing in front of the door with a grimness about his features that sent shooting sparks of rage through her.