BlackMoonRising by Melody Lane

until the stove timer went off
and it was time to eat dinner.
    * * * * *
    Herman awoke to Steve’s cries—which had nothing to do with
sex. The sobbing started and then the muffled scream came from his throat. It
was Steve having the dream about his father again. Herman sat up and turned on
the bedside light.
    Steve tossed from side to side, the bedsheets already pulled
from the mattress. His hair was wet with sweat and his face contorted.
    “Steve, Steve, wake up,” Herman begged as he shook him.
“You’re home and everything is okay.”
    As Steve opened his eyes, tears streamed down his face. “No.
Not again.” He suddenly became coherent and looked around the room. “Herman?”
    Herman placed a hand on his chest and spoke softly. “I’m
here. Wake up, darling. Everything is all right. Do you remember what Nahla
said earlier?”
    “My head is cloudy.” He shook his head from side to side.
“Remind me.”
    “We’re supposed to write everything down about your dream.”
Herman kissed his forehead. “Let me do that for you. You’ve never told me all
the details and I want to hear them. I’m trying to help in any way I can.” He
took a pad of paper and pen from the nightstand.
    Steve was ready to talk. His eyes narrowed and he frowned.
“My father and I had gotten off the bus on Chicago Avenue and were walking
north. He hadn’t worked that day. It was a late fall evening. Wednesday. Dark
outside—but early, around six. You know, dinnertime. We had picked up groceries
at the market and my mom planned to cook spaghetti and garlic bread when we got
home. I was happy.“
    Herman wrote as quickly as he could. “Keep talking.”
    “I think we were about four blocks off Chicago Avenue. It
was near our home. The lights weren’t so bright anymore and there are no longer
any businesses. Just residential buildings. This was an area where the trees
were thick and made it hard to even see the sky. I felt a gust of cool wind.
Leaves started to blow around us. I suddenly noticed that there weren’t any
people walking by.” Steve glanced around the room like he wasn’t there anymore.
His eyes appeared to look right through Herman. “It seemed like we were all
alone.”
    “Go on.”
    “But we weren’t alone.” Steve inhaled deeply. “My dad
grabbed my arm like he knew something was about to happen.”
    “How could he know?”
    “Shifters can sense and smell things that humans can’t.”
    Herman nodded. “You weren’t a shifter then?”
    “No. It happens at puberty.”
    “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m sorry, babe. Please
continue. Your dad grabbed your arm.”
    Steve grimaced. “Suddenly a werewolf blocked our path on the
sidewalk. I’d seen werewolves before. They’re the strongest of shifters, with
some being violent-tempered. They go from wolf to human and back again as they
please. Not like me who can shift to any kind of domestic dog, but then needs a
break for recovery time. This werewolf was big and gray. It had black pupils
with yellow eyes that glowed in the dark. He snarled and growled and was
horribly scary.”
    Herman shook his head in shock.
    “My dad whispered for me to run as fast as I could. I knew
this was something I shouldn’t question and ran.” He put a hand over his eyes.
    “What happened next?”
    “When I heard my dad scream, I stopped and turned around. He
had shifted into a menacing Doberman, who stood on muscular hind legs as he
fought the werewolf to protect his son. But the werewolf was agile and faster
than my dad. The werewolf’s claws sliced him open.“ He swallowed hard. “All the
way down his chest.”
    Herman dropped the notebook in which he wrote.
    Steve talked faster. “He fell to the ground and I ran to
him. I didn’t care about the werewolf anymore. I wasn’t afraid. I wanted my
dad. He shifted back to human form once I reached him. I knelt and looked into
his eyes. He took my hand.” Tears streamed down his face. “He said he was
sorry, that he