Red Moon Rising by Peter Moore Read Free Book Online Page A

elk?” Victor Harmon asks.
    â€œAn elk is a type of deer, dumbass,” Gunther says. He’s still wet and his shirt is clinging to him. “Anyway, I don’t care what I shoot as long as I get a good kill. Maybe I’ll accidentally shoot a wulf. Now, that would be a tragedy.” He turns to the side, raises an imaginary rifle to his shoulder, squints into an invisible scope and makes a ka-pow sound.
    I can’t tell if he knows I’m behind him or not.
    â€œAnd maybe he’ll accidentally shoot him self ,” I say to Claire. “Golden Boy? More like a dirtbag poser.”
    â€œWow. I guess he’s fallen off his pedestal,” Claire says, shaking her head.
    We take maybe five more steps before I hear Gunther shout.
    â€œHey, wulf boy.” Gunther’s holding open the passenger door of his Porsche for Alana Gibson. “Did you just call me a poser?”
    I turn to Claire, who looks as surprised as I feel. I didn’t think Gunther could hear me.
    He shuts the door. “That’s pretty funny coming from you, since you’re the one trying to pass as a vamp.” His smile is big. His friends think he’s hilarious. He puts on a confused face. “Did you also say you wished I’d shoot myself?”
    â€œI didn’t say that I wished you would.” Not out loud, anyway.
    He walks around to the driver’s side and opens the door. “You don’t have to be scared. See, I don’t care if you want me dead. I feel the same way about you. And by you I mean all your kind, but you especially. You don’t even have to be dead. As long as you’re gone.” He smiles big, his perfect white teeth gleaming.
    â€œIs that a threat?” Claire asks him. “Did you just threaten to kill him?”
    Gunther laughs. His idiot friends join in. “No,” he says. “I’m not threatening him or anyone else. I’m just saying how I feel. What I wish.” His eyes have held mine the whole time he’s been talking.
    Obviously, I need to ignore him and walk away. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing for me—and ‘my kind’—that you’re not in charge. Even though you think you’re the king of this school, you don’t actually have any power over what happens or doesn’t happen to any of us.”
    Gunther raises his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Okay, wulf boy. We’ll see.” He pops the collar of his shirt, still wet and still expensive.
    I look at him. Claire squeezes my arm, but I’m determined not to lose this stare-down.
    Gunther raises his imaginary rifle at me, squints, and pulls the invisible trigger. His lips form another ka-pow , but he doesn’t make a sound. He lowers his “gun,” then winks at me as he gets in the car.
    Claire rolls her eyes. “That was just so cool and fun. Thanks for the experience. Now can we get out of here?”
    But I’m not going to leave before he does. It would be like giving up.
    Gunther starts the engine, then the car takes off.
    I’m not sure what just happened, but I have a feeling I didn’t come out on top.

S aturday night. It’s 9:40 p.m., and Juliet is late. Claire and I are standing in the shadows of Bartlow’s Market. For thirty-five minutes we’ve been watching a bunch of kids hanging out at the far end of the parking lot. I’m nervous; Claire’s annoyed.
    â€œI’m thinking she might not show,” I say. “Are you thinking that?”
    â€œI’m thinking I should never have said yes to you. I have better things to do with my time.”
    â€œNo you don’t.”
    â€œOkay, but still.”
    I’m wondering if it’s possible that one of those kids is Juliet and she’s been there all along. No. I’ve been checking constantly, and my vision is sharp. Sharper than usual, even. Juliet isn’t there. “Do I look okay?” I ask