Review
Excerpt. Reprinted by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
I knew the contents of the trunk by heart; a brown leather jacket so worn the cloth showed through in places, an empty bottle of cologne that still held its scent, an old pair of sparing gloves with faded knuckles, and a couple of sheets of paper covered in the precise penmanship of the son of a teacher. A Hunter would kill me if he ever found the trunk, but Mom knew better than to suggest I get rid of it.
I pushed it back under my bed. My heart ached at the scent that lingered, but I forced myself to get on with unpacking. I wondered with a glance at the multitude of cardboard boxes if it was futile to pursue emptying them, but the thought of inactivity and the barrage of memories it brought sent a shudder down my spine and I turned back to work.
Night chased the shadows of evening from the street below. I couldn't see the moon through my window, but knew it would be full in a week and a half. I didn't need to look at the calendar anymore; I could feel it in my bones. I tossed several shirts into the closet and went down for dinner even though my stomach twisted at the thought of the spaghetti and meatballs that touched the air with their wheat and tomato scent.
"Do you have everything ready for school tomorrow?" Mom smiled, but her tight eyes and creased forehead belied her cheerful demeanor.
I nodded and swallowed another bite of spaghetti without tasting it.
"Did you find your backpack? I was worried you wouldn't find it in all those boxes."
The strange tone in her voice caught my attention. I looked up to see tears tracing lines down her cheeks. My heart clenched away from her pain, shoving me back into the black void I had buried myself in to survive the past couple of weeks. I couldn't let her face her pain alone, but I didn't have to face my own.
I rose and hugged her tight where she sat in her chair. She froze for a split second, then turned against my chest and started to sob. I patted her head, smoothing the long strands of dark blond hair. It was hard not to say anything, hard not to let the fire in my throat and the ache in my chest turn into its own sob, but I forced it back. A single tear traced down my cheek; I wiped it off before she saw.
"We're gonna be okay, Mom," I whispered. I stared out the kitchen window. I searched the darkness for golden eyes, but only my own image reflected back at me. It wasn't the image I held in my head.
I looked older, worn. The past two weeks had aged me more than I could have guessed. My stare reflected back hard and angry, my jaw clenched tight. Strands of blond hair fell in front of my eyes, eyes the same dark brown that dad's had been. I shook my head to clear them and turned away from my reflection, angry at the things it didn't show.
"A new school, a new territory," Mom said, her shoulders bowed. She shook her head. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone. It could be dangerous."
I couldn't help the wry tone that came to my voice. "There is no one else, Mom. I'll be okay. Who's going to mess with me?" But we both knew the truth. I stepped away. "I'll be in the backyard for a bit."
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at my plate. "You're not going to finish your dinner?"
I shook my head. "Not hungry."
I didn't wait for her answer. I grabbed the pair of gloves on the counter and slid open the back door. Fresh air, so different in taste and smell it felt like we had stepped onto a different planet instead of across the country, swirled around me in an eddy of humidity, the dull roar of city night life, and a hint of rain. A cacophony of crickets, the slight breeze catching in the trees, and a pair of dogs barking at each other a few blocks away completed the portrait of night.
I strapped on the gloves and made my way to the bag I had put up the second the moving truck left. It hung from the pecan tree like a lone sentry guarding the yard against night demons. The thick paneled fence gave a facade of privacy, but it felt like eyes watched from the gaps between the wood. I shrugged off the feeling and jabbed the bag. It shook and the familiar rattle of the chain drew me back to better times. I dodged and swung. The bag rocked with the force of the blow. I stepped back and kicked it to get it moving, then ducked and punched when it came back my way.
Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades and my heart pounded by the time I finished. I leaned against the tree, my legs rubbery.
"Wear yourself out yet?"
I jumped and spun, searching the yard for any sign of movement. Lit only by stars and the faint light of the waxing moon that filtered through the reaching trees, the yard would have been nearly pitch black to anyone else; but to my eyes, shades of gray defined the shapes around me. I stood up when I confirmed that I was alone in the yard.
A faint motion between the fence panels revealed the silhouette of a person a few inches shorter than me. I stepped sideways into the slight breeze; the scent it carried, a floral perfume faint from the day, a whispered hush of mint and apricot, and a hint of pizza which I guessed was from dinner, confirmed that my watcher was a girl. There was nothing hostile in the scent.
I shook my head at my own fears.
"Should I take you to be the strong, silent type then?" she asked with a touch of humor.
I wasn't in the mood to be teased. "Just the type who prefers to be left alone in his own backyard." I unstrapped the gloves, the sound of the velcro loud in the silence between us. A siren wailed in the distance, followed closely by another.
"Wow, and blunt. No beating around the bush for you, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, forgetting that she couldn't see me. "Is it too much to ask for some privacy?"
"In this city? Yes, or haven't you noticed that there's barely enough room to breathe back here, let alone keep to one's self." She leaned against the fence with a huff. "What do they expect us to do after curfew, sleep?"
I laughed despite my foul mood. "I think that's the idea." I toyed with the gloves in my hands and debated whether to go in the house. The night was cool, but not the freezing temperatures I was accustomed to in early March.
"So you get all moved in?" she pressed.
I gave an inward sigh. "Yeah, pretty much."
"The moving truck wasn't there long." When I didn't answer, she waited in silence. I hoped if I kept quiet long enough she would grow bored and leave. But a few minutes later, she asked, "You starting school tomorrow?"
I frowned and fought back an urge to hit the bag again. "Yeah, why?"
"It sucks to start a new school in the middle of the year. Why'd you move?"
I turned back to the house. "Have a good night."
"You're leaving? Just like that?" She sounded surprised and a little hurt.
"Yeah, like I said, have a good night."
I took two steps when a long, low howl cut through the symphony that made up the city twilight. Dogs stopped barking, the shouts of an angry wife a few houses down quieted, and insects that had seconds ago been weaving their songs of worship to the moon fell silent. Hair rose on the back of my neck. The source wasn't close, but it was definitely werewolf. I fought the urge to bare my teeth.
The howl drifted away to a thick silence; I wondered that no other werewolf answered, then remembered that it wasn't a full moon. Uneasiness tangled under my skin at the thought of a werewolf running alone when the moon was only waxing.
"Goodnight." Her voice startled me. She made her way toward the house without waiting for a response.
"Do you have a lot of wolves here?" I wanted to kick myself as soon as the question left my mouth, but it caught her attention.
She turned and the faint light that spilled through the back door gave life to her silhouette. She had long black hair and wore loose-fitting pajama pants and a tee-shirt with a black bird printed on it. She showed her annoyance with a hand on her hip and the hard stare she gave as she tried to make out my form in the shadows.
"Oh, so now you want to talk?" she accused.
I shook my head. "Never mind."
I had reached my own back door and slid it open when she said, "Yeah, there're wolves."
I paused, a knot in my stomach. "I didn't think there would be wolves here, especially in the city." I forced my tone to lighten. "I figured there'd be more coyotes; you know, like in the westerns."
She gave an unfeminine snort. "Sorry to disappoint you. Welcome to the big city, partner." She tipped an imaginary hat my way and a laugh escaped her lips.
"Why thank you, little lady," I replied. I felt foolish, but grinned just the same.
We stared across the darkness at each other for a moment, then I stepped inside the house. "Have a good night," I called over my shoulder.
"You, too," she said.
I slid the door shut behind me and listened for her to do the same, then went upstairs for a quick shower before bed. The howl echoed through my thoughts and quickened the foreboding that rose in my chest when I thought of what the morning would bring. It was a long time before I gave in to sleep and the ever-present nightmares it heralded.
About the Author
Cheree Alsop is the mother of a beautiful, talented daughter and two amazing twin sons who fill every day with light and laughter. She married her best friend, Michael, who changes lives each day in his Chiropractic clinic. Cheree is currently working as a free-lance writer and mother. She enjoys reading, riding her Ninja motorcycle on warm nights, and rocking her twins while planning her next book. She is also an aspiring drummer and bass player for her husband’s garage band. Cheree and Michael live in Utah where they rock out, enjoy the outdoors, and plan great adventures. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
![Silver (The Silver Series Book 1) by [Cheree Alsop]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41XiodZxClL._SY346_.jpg)
