Moon of the Terrible (Seasons of the Moon) by SM Reine Read Free Book Online

taken strength from Eleanor, but it seemed to have also taken away her ability to feel pain. She recovered from the shock instantly, seconds before Rylie.
    Her brittle fingers closed around Rylie’s throat and squeezed.
    She was strong—so impossibly strong.
    But Abel’s fury was stronger.
    He roared something incoherent and filled with pain, and his hands clamped down on Eleanor’s arms like shackles. He ripped her free of Rylie’s throat, wrenched his mother to her feet, and lifted her in the air. Dirty, bony feet kicked near Rylie’s face.
    Abel shook her. “Never again!”
    “Let me go!” Eleanor shrieked, beating against him. “You stupid, hideous—”
    Whatever else she had to say about Abel, Rylie never heard it. He carried her from the cabin and into the woods. Their yells echoed and multiplied, bouncing off the trees and filling the valley by the river.
    Rylie scrambled to her feet and chased them outside.
    Abel and Eleanor grappled by the river. He held her over the rushing water, fury blackening his features.
    “Wait!” Rylie cried.
    She could barely understand Abel through his responding growl. “I’m going to rip her head off.”
    “But then we might never know who Cain is!”
    He shook his mother hard. She clawed at his forearms with her bony fingertips. “Who is Cain? Where can we find him?”
    Eleanor spat in his face. There was no saliva in her mouth—black fluid splattered over her lips.
    Rylie hung a few steps away from them, torn between letting Abel get the revenge he had deserved for years and trying to spare the only person that she knew had answers.
    She was so distracted by the confrontation that she almost didn’t hear it when someone approached from the forest.
    “Abel!” barked a sharp voice.
    Rylie turned.
    The newest werewolf at the sanctuary, Vanthe, had sneaked up behind them. And he was holding someone by the throat—Seth.
    Vanthe’s arm was covered in shaggy fur, claws dug into the tender skin beneath Seth’s jaw, and his eyes glowed silver. Not gold. Silver.
    “Let Mom go,” he said.
    “No way,” Rylie exclaimed. “That’s not possible.”
    “Surprised?” Vanthe asked.
    She tried to make the mental adjustment—he was Cain, not Vanthe. And as soon as she thought the words, she started to see the similarity.
    His skin wasn’t as dark as Seth and Abel’s, and his hair was a very rough, very curly blond. His werewolf dad must have been white. But he did share features with Eleanor: the curve of his lips, the shape of the eyebrows.
    How hadn’t she seen it earlier?
    Abel was still holding Eleanor off of her feet, but his anger had turned to shock. He was speechless.
    “I’m not surprised ,” Rylie said, which was true—she would have had to be thinking clearly to be surprised, and it felt like her ability to process rational thought had evaporated. “I really mean that it’s not possible. Pagan called your name before she kidnapped me. You couldn’t have been here and traveling to California at the same time.”
    He smirked, like the incongruity amused him. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
    “Like necromancy?” Seth asked, and the claws tightened around his throat.
    Instead of answering, Cain focused on Abel. “I told you to put her down.”
    For a moment, Rylie thought that Abel was going to ignore him—or that he would drop Eleanor in the water. Would he really sacrifice Seth like that? Could he?
    “Abel,” she whispered, heart pounding.
    His eyes flicked to her. Pain crossed his features.
    Slowly, he turned around and set his mother on the snow. She staggered to Cain’s side. “Son,” she said warmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her gaze chilled when she turned it on Seth. “My only son.”
    “Now drop Seth,” Abel said.
    “Fine,” Cain said. “He’s not the one that I want anyway.
    He didn’t drop Seth—he threw him.
    Abel’s reaction time was good. He just barely caught him before he slipped into the river.
    But it meant