Moonlight and Midtown Read online

  First Published by Monster House Books, LLC in 2018

  Monster House Books, LLC

  34 Chandler Place Newton, MA 02464

  www.monsterhousebooks.com

  ISBN 9781945723247

  Copyright © 2018 by Monster House Books LLC

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedication

  For my husband

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Seven p.m. Time to get dressed. In other words, time to change from “seventeen-year-old slob” into “cool Manhattan socialite.” Crossing my bedroom, I open my closet door and wince. A few holiday-themed sweaters line the top shelf. Clusters of bare wooden hangers knock against one another, wind-chime style. Out of my once-awesome collection of footwear, only two lonely flip-flips now collect dust on the floor. They don’t even match.

  No question about it. Being a werewolf is murder on your wardrobe.

  And I have an art opening to attend tonight. Bummer.

  On reflex, I turn around, ready to sift through the contents of my dresser. Then I remember I don’t have a dresser anymore. Whenever I shift, I lock myself in my bedroom. My wolf smashed all the furniture in here weeks ago. In fact, she really destroyed my dresser, gnawing the wood into chips. These days, my bedroom’s decorated with a single mattress and tons of claw marks on the walls. I’ve taken to keeping my underthings in a drawer in the bathroom.

  A sad weight settles onto my shoulders. My aunties kept me locked in a penthouse so they could hide my true magical nature from me. With the help of my bf Knox and my bff Elle, I broke free from their plans and tricks. There’s no hiding the truth from me any more. I can wield all three types of magic: fairy, shifter, and witch. Even so, I’m still trapped in my apartment because who wants to spontaneously shift into a werewolf on Fifth Avenue and then end up naked on the sidewalk?

  Not me.

  But tonight’s art opening is with other Magicorum kids like me, so shifting shouldn’t be a big deal. Plus, my boyfriend Knox will be there with me, and he’s a were Alpha, so he can help me control when I change forms.

  All of which leads to the fact that I need something to wear tonight.

  Back to the closet I go.

  For a full minute, I stare at the empty hangers as if my old wardrobe will somehow magically reappear. Not happening.

  Every time I shift, I shred another outfit. And lately, I’ve been shifting a ton. Some mornings, my wolf tears out six times before I down my bagel, and it’s all because I first took my werewolf form only a month ago on my seventeenth birthday. Most weres spend a lifetime mastering their wolf. I’ve had four weeks.

  At least I have a master plan to fix my wardrobe issue: a shopping spree in Manhattan’s secret network of stores run by the fae. My best friend Elle is taking me because she’s both fae and an awesome shopping partner. With any luck, Elle and I will find me some unshreddable magic outfits. That is, if I survive the trip. Fairies are crazy. Plus, most carry a major grudge against weres. About a million years ago, some weres lost their cool and tried to massacre some fae. They didn’t succeed, but fairies have a long memory, and shifters are definitely on their hate list.

  Speaking of weres, my inner wolf speaks to me in my mind. As always, her voice combines silky tones with a gruff edge. “Where is our mate?”

  She’s talking about Knox. I’m not totally comfortable with calling him my mate yet, even though—let’s face it—that’s what he is.

  I reply to her in my thoughts. “Knox is on his way. We’re going to that art opening tonight, remember?”

  “How disappointing.” My inner animal has a pretty good vocabulary for anyone, but especially for a wolf. I think it’s because she spent her first seventeen years trapped inside a spell where she could only listen and watch me do stuff. “I’d rather visit the forest, you know.”

  My stomach twists. I’m not a total fan of tonight’s plans, either.

  Knox and I are about to attend a swanky art show featuring students from West Lake Prep, my future high school. It’s now June; school starts in September. Tonight I’ll meet my new classmates for the very first time. Plus, considering how I’ve been home-schooled all my life, this marks the first time I’ll meet any fellow students, period.

  Whoa.

  Long story short, there is no way I’m showing up tonight in a Christmas sweater-dress and mismatched flip-flops. I need something else to wear.

  My anxiety feeds in to my inner wolf’s discomfort. Deep within my soul, she paces and growls. My wolf wants to shift, run, and be free from everything. That same urge fills me as well. Within seconds, my limbs twitch to change forms. I push down on that desire with my will, but I can only hold back for so long.

  Closing my eyes, I make some quick calculations. Based on how my wolf’s acting, I have an hour, tops, before she pops out of my skin. So before those sixty minutes are up, I have to get dressed, haul my cookies to the opening, and make a quick combination of hello and goodbye.

  Not a moment to waste.

  Time to borrow an outfit from my roommate. I pull open my bedroom door and call out into the hallway.

  “Elle?”

  Elle is my roomie and best friend. We’re both members of the Magicorum, and each member has the power of a fairy, witch, or shifter inside us. It also counts if you have a direct relative with magic. In any case, most Magicorum have only one power—Elle’s is fairy magic—but for some reason, I have all three. My abilities tore loose a month ago when I battled an army of zombie-mummies called the Denarii along with their leader, a creepster named Jules. Ever since then, my fairy and witch powers haven’t shown up again, which is fine with me. I’m having enough trouble with my inner wolf.

  I raise my voice a little. “Elle?”

  In reply, I hear the click-clack of computer keyboards followed by the low rumble of arguing voices. I’d know that particular set of noises anywhere. It’s the distinct soundtrack of Elle playing a videogame with a buddy.

  I frown. That can’t be right. Elle started playing Kazimir’s Gate last night with Alec, our friend who happens to be the heir to the Le Charme dynasty of jewelry stores. Those two couldn’t still be playing, could they?

  I step down the hallway and into our living room. It’s a wide space with bay windows, leather furniture, and tons of electronics. Sure enough, Elle and Alec are camped out on our big couch, wireless keyboards perched on their laps.

  Unbelievable but true. Those two have been at it for more than twenty-four hours straight.

  I step closer. “Hey, guys. I thought you were quitting ages ago. We’re supposed to leave for the art opening, right?”

  Elle waves to me from the couch. “No worries,” she says. “We’re almost done with the Mushuu mines.”

  For the thousandth time, it strikes me how my best friend looks just like Cinderella, what with her long golden-blonde hair and big blue eyes. The only difference from the Grimm Brother’s version of Cinderella and my bestie is that my Elle wears modern clothes. Today, that means leggings and a white button down. The same is true for Alec, too. The guy is a dead ringer for Prince Charming, but one who’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  By the way, the whole fairy t
ale look-alike thing is no coincidence. Both Elle and Alec have magic—he’s a warlock—which means they’re also part of the Magicorum. Members of the Magicorum are supposed to live according to a fairy tale life template. Elle’s is definitely Cinderella, while Alec’s is Prince Charming. In my case, my template is supposed to be Sleeping Beauty. I’ve got the brown hair, slim build, and blue eyes that go along with the story, too. That said, being a shifter is not part of the tale, let alone the fact that I wield all three kinds of magic. It’s weird. Most days, I just try not to think about it.

  Denial. It’s not just a river in Egypt.

  I’m still in the living room, but I’m not sure Elle or Alec has even registered my existence. Instead, my bestie is glaring daggers at Alec.

  “Hold on there,” says Elle. “What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you take a healing potion before we went into battle?”

  “I took the dumb potion.” Alec squints at the screen. “Oops, maybe not.”

  “And now we have to fight this rabid squirrel.”

  “It’s an undead Wyvern.”

  For the record, I understand the sweet perfection of sharing a cool new two-person game. Elle and I spend many hours on Skyrim. But still.

  I clear my throat. “So, are you guys going or not?”

  Elle keeps right on glaring at Alec. “Are you crazy? No healing potion?” Her face burns red with fury. This is a rare sight. My bestie never loses her cool. “This monster has eight thousand hit points. You’ve been getting your ass kicked.”

  “I have four hundred hit points.”

  “Before the ass kicking. Now you have...” Elle leans forward as she squints at the screen. “Two hit points left. My friend, you will be D-E-A-D before we even make a dent on this bad guy.”

  “My dear Elle, how you underestimate me.” Alec grins. He’s totally working his Prince Charming vibe here. But with Alec, that look mixes with a surfer-dude edge, what with his tanned skin and loose blond hair. He winks at Elle. “We can kill this. I found a sword of ‘Plus A Million Hit Points Of Awesomeness.’ One strike, and that thing is history.”

  Elle rolls her eyes. “You’re such a cheater.” Even so, there’s no anger in her words. Elle is a total con artist. She only works her schemes for a good cause, though. That said, Elle always appreciates a clever cheat. She and Alec would make a great pair if they ever decided to date. But so far, that hasn’t been in the cards. I can’t get a straight story out of Elle, but it all has something to do with my bestie’s evil stepfamily.

  “Ahem.” I move to stand right behind the couch. “I said, are you guys still going?”

  It’s Alec who waves at me this time. “Sure, we are.” His shoulders shiver as he types furiously on his keyboard. Kazimir’s Gate is best played on a keyboard instead of a controller, and Alec is tough on equipment. We’ve gone through three keyboards in the last month.

  “How will that work, exactly?” I ask. “You’ve both been up all night. No offense, but you don’t smell ready to go.” I sniff. Truth.

  Keeping his gaze glued to the monitor, Alec nods toward a side chair. His sport coat lies slung over the armrest. “I have some new gemstones in my pockets. When the time is right, I’ll cast a spell to get us ready. Won’t take a minute.” Gemstones are how wizards store extra power for a casting. “After that, I’ll cast a transport spell for the Belvedere Gallery.”

  Anxiety tightens up my back. “The Belvedere Gallery? That place is teeny-tiny. I thought the opening was at the Ritz ballroom.”

  “Change of venue,” explains Alec. “Word leaked that there was a Magicorum event at the Ritz. Humans were already camping out on the sidewalk. You know how it is. We had to change properties.”

  Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens all the time. Magic is disappearing from the world, and the Magicorum are vanishing as well. Humans see us as photo ops. Ever since I found out I was a were, I’ve been convinced that “she’s a shifter” is somehow written on my forehead in bright neon letters. There’s no shaking the sense that someone is following me, ready to take a photo. Of all the humans who stalk Magicorum, howlers are the worst. They’re the ones who stalk weres. They have their own hidden internet called the furry-web where they post pictures and videos of shifters in embarrassing situations. It’s involves a lot of bare butts.

  I shiver. There is no way I want my ass on the internet.

  That said, having stalkers is not my biggest worry right now. The fact that I’m going to the Belvedere freaks out my wolf in a serious way. Confined spaces are not her thing. She paces inside my soul at a more furious speed.

  “No small rooms,” whispers my wolf. “I beg you. Woods.”

  The urge to shift strikes me again. Once more, fur ripples under my skin. Did I think I had an hour before I was forced to shift? It might be a matter of minutes.

  I rub my neck in a nervous rhythm. “You know what, guys? I’m not sure this art opening is a great idea. If my wolf breaks out, she could trash the place.”

  Alec sniffs. “My family owns the gallery. We have specially trained guards there in case anyone’s magic side gets out of control. Don’t worry.”

  “Please,” whispers my wolf. “We must run.”

  The drive to shift becomes even stronger. My bones shimmy and twist inside me. The movement doesn’t hurt me, though. It’s just the idea of being forced to change again that’s so painful.

  Sure, Alec says that I can ruin my bedroom all I want—his family owns this building, too, after all—but that still doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t like destroying stuff, and I really hate losing control of my own body.

  Taking a half step backward, I make for the safety of my room. “I think I better stay home.”

  Moving in unison, Alec and Elle hit the Pause key and look over the back of the couch at me.

  “I know you’re worried about your wolf,” says Elle.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” I mime someone taking a photo. “There are howlers everywhere.”

  Elle wags her finger. “You can’t hide out in the apartment forever.”

  “Why not? We have high-speed internet and lots of snacks.” I try to make this sound like a joke, but it comes off as a little desperate.

  “Bry, this summer is your chance to get used to your wolf form.”

  “So tonight is what, wolf training?” I ask.

  Alec nods. “Why do you think we’re having this at my property with my guards?”

  A weight of guilt settles into my stomach. “You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble for me. I’ll be fine come September.” Total lie.

  “What are friends for?” Alec’s face warms with another winning smile. “This is my gallery with my hired people. Plus, the students are cool. Everyone’s either in the Magicorum or related to someone who is. Trust me, there’s nothing they haven’t seen. This will be a great way to start testing your wolf in public.”

  Elle smacks her lips. “Of course, if you’re not up for it, you can always stay home.” My bestie gives me a sly look. She knows all about what I call my rebel-reflex. Tell me I’m not up for something, and I simply must prove I can do it.

  My mouth starts moving on its own. “Oh, I’m going all right.” An image pops into my head: my almost-empty closet. “Only, can I borrow something of yours to wear?”

  Elle grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Take what you want. Knock yourself out.”

  Wow. I lift my arms with my palms forward in the universal hand signal for stop right there. “Full disclosure,” I say. “No matter what you loan me, it will probably get destroyed.”

  Elle shrugs. “I love to shop. You’ve got a talent right now for ruining wardrobes. This is a win-win in my opinion.” Elle returns her attention to the megascreen and pounds on her keyboard. “Ha! I just found an extra bag of plus-ten arrows. Now that the rabid squirrel is dead, we are so killing that big-ass lawn gnome.”

  “It’s a Stone Golem,” say
s Alec.

  Huh. Seems the wardrobe conversation is over.

  Elle makes shoo-fingers in my direction. “Like I said, take whatever you want!”

  “Thanks.” Call me shallow, but the thought of raiding Elle’s wardrobe has me all smiles. With quick steps, I head into Elle’s room and open up her closet. The thing is literally bursting with cool clothes. As I eye the different outfits, I calm down. My wolf slows her incessant pacing.

  I pull a little black dress off the hanger. This will do nicely. Plus, Elle and I wear the same size shoe. Extra friend bonus.

  Stepping over to Elle’s full-length mirror, I scan my reflection. I don’t like what I see. In some ways, I resemble the same old Bryar Rose: tall and slim with blue eyes and brown hair. Even though I grew up a virtual prisoner in a Manhattan penthouse, I always kept myself relatively put together. My hair stayed styled in neat waves. I put my makeup on just so. If something needed ironing, I did it.

  But now? I’m a freaking mess.

  Every time I shift, I have to redo everything. Hair. Makeup. Clothes. It’s a pain. So right now, the mirror reflects my latest look: frizzed-out hair, no makeup, and an outfit that consists of one of Knox’s stolen T-shirts paired with some orange “I heart New York” sweatpants that I picked up at the local bodega for five bucks. Total fashion disaster, but I was desperate and these were all that was left in my size.

  I force my spine to straighten. Not to worry. My wardrobe issues will be fixed soon enough. Once Elle and I go fae shopping next week, I can find an enchanted outfit that’s unshreddable. Plus, I can handle tonight. I just need to give myself a little verbal pep talk. That means I’ll be chatting out loud to myself, but that’s my way to coping with stress and I’m sticking to it.

  Still staring into the mirror, I launch into my speech. “Tonight will be a super-success. You will not shift in front of all your classmates and then end up naked. There’s no chance you’ll destroy the hottest new gallery in the Village. And even though the Belvedere has big bay windows, the humans will never see the whole thing and take video on their cell phones.”