Page 63 of Fool Moon First Aid

By the time we make it downstairs, it’s nearly time for the others to arrive. Brody sets me on the counter, and we pass the time with mindless chatter as he cooks. Domestic bliss wraps around us so comfortably that when an alarm blares on his phone, I shriek in shock, my heart skipping a beat.

The sound is jarring, demanding attention, but my phone remains silent, indicating this is no widespread emergency.

“Shit.” Brody dives for his phone, pressing a button to silence it. The potatoes begin to burn on the stove, forgotten as his eyes scan the message with grave intensity.

All the hair rises on my arms. “What is it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, sensing the sudden shift in the air.

“Hunters,” he says, his voice low and tense. He turns off his phone with a swift motion. It’s as though his entire demeanor shifts, transforming from a relaxed cook to a warrior on edge. “We need to go,” he declares, shutting off the stove and abandoning his apron, leaving our quiet domestic scene in disarray.

“What? What do you mean?” The words tumble out of my mouth as I blink at Brody, who lifts me gently from the counter and sets me on my feet.

“Hunters attacked a young cub close to town,” he explains, his brows furrowed with concern and urgency. “We need to go now.”

“Are they okay?” I ask, my hands wringing together, a wave of nervousness washing over me as Brody rushes to gather a few essentials.

“I don’t know. We need to get to the clan house as soon as possible,” he says, turning to assess me briefly. “Do you feel comfortable going?”

“Of course,” I reply without hesitation, grabbing my crutches and beginning to hobble toward him. “How can I help?”

“You can’t. Right now, we need to regroup,” he states, leading me into the garage and assisting me down the steps. “The clan will divide into three—women and cubs will split down the center into two groups, and all able-bodied members will form a third group. Group one heads north, and group two goes south, to the safe houses,” he explains quickly as he helps me into a jacket then assists me into the car.

Brody shuts the door swiftly, activates the garage door, and climbs in beside me. He pulls out of the driveway with expert speed, a sense of urgency zinging through the air.

“Are we going north or south?” I ask, trying to understand our role in this plan.

“We’re heading to the clan house,” he responds, looking into the distance like he’s listening to someone, a hint of frustration in his tone. It’s clear he’s not pleased with the situation, but there’s no time to dwell on it now. “Ty and Ethan are almost there.”

As twilight engulfs us, a chilling realization grips me—the Puritas Umbra’s willingness to target even a child, or as he said, a cub, underscores a hatred profound and chilling. In this harsh reality, aligning with the spiritkin, those who embrace magic and shapeshifting, feels like not just a choice but a calling.

“Hold on,” Brody warns, his focus iron-clad as the car accelerates down the road, my heart pounding not from excitement but from a growing dread.

“Brody!” I exclaim, gripping the seat belt as if it’s my lifeline. A man, with balls of brass, strolls into the middle of the road like he owns it. “Watch out!”

“No.” Ignoring my panic, Brody presses harder on the accelerator, his resolve steeling against the impending confrontation.

“What the hell are you doing?” Panic spikes through me as we barrel toward the man. That’s when I spot it—a harpoon gripped in his hand, his smile more of a snarl as he lifts his weapon like he’s welcoming the challenge.

I’m frozen, my brain screaming for action but my body refusing to comply.

“Get down!” Brody’s command is sharp and immediate. He doesn’t wait for me to react. His hand is on my head, pushing me down, just as the world explodes with the sound of shattering glass.

My scream is swallowed by a wave of fear so intense, it leaves me shaking.

“Knew you’d move, you asshole,” Brody snarls, his voice edged with a ferocity that sends shivers down my spine.

I’m quaking, my hands clamped over my ears as I try to make myself as small as possible. Is this normal for spiritkin? This constant edge of terror and feeling ready to bolt at the first sign of danger?

This is no way to live.

Blood trickles down my arms, but I press my hands tighter against my ears, trying to block out the howling wind coming through the broken windshield.

“Stay with me, Ava,” Brody orders through the howling wind, his voice both gentle and firm, steadying me. “We’re almost at the clan hou—” His words slam to a halt as the car swerves violently, the world suddenly flipping upside down. I’m tossed against the console, pain shooting through me like a lightning strike. The worst part? The sound of Brody’s head hitting the window. It’s a crack that sends a shiver down my spine—the kind of sound you never forget.

The car’s out of control, spinning like a top on ice. I hold my breath, every muscle tensed for the crash that has be coming, but it doesn’t. Somehow, miraculously, we stop spinning, and everything goes still.

Just when I think it’s over, eerie laughter cuts through the silence, sending chills up my spine. It’s like something out of a horror movie, dark and full of malice, echoing around us before silence slams down again. The quiet’s almost worse than the noise, like a thick, suffocating blanket of nothing that leaves us hanging in limbo as I try to wrap my head around what just happened.

Breathing shallowly, I force myself upright. The accident might not look like much, but the pain tells a different story.

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