Read Black Moon for Free Online Page B

if Ben hadn’t visited, they wouldn’t have left me any time to nap. Maybe this is why he said our time was over; Ben knew they were coming. So strange.
    “I’ll be right down!” Okay, so, for now, I won’t be telling them anything. There will come a time when I have to, or karma will bite me on the ass for not speaking up. But today isn’t that day. I have too much to worry about with my birthday tomorrow, and what it means for me tonight.
    Downstairs, Jana and Blake have congregated with the rest of my family in the kitchen.
    Beth places a dish into the oven, glancing up at me after she closes the metal door. “Ah, we were wondering when you’d join us.”
    “Had to freshen up,” I lie. Changing the subject, I ask, “So . . . casserole?”
    “Chicken pot pie casserole,” she affirms. “From scratch.”
    Blake rubs his belly. “Sounds delicious.”
    Mom and Dad huddle together in conversation on the other side of the room. Every few seconds, Mom glances in my direction.
    “What are you two whispering about?” I smirk.
    Mom fumbles for words, while Dad looks to Mom for a response. I raise one eyebrow, waiting.
    “Your father and I need to discuss some concerns with you,” she says. “About tonight.”
    Naturally they do. I’ve been waiting for this little meeting to take place. What better way to have it than right now, with everyone in the same area?
    “Okay. I’m listening.”
    “Let’s sit in the living room,” offers Beth. We follow her lead, taking our seats in the appropriate places, like this has been choreographed and performed a hundred times before.
    Mom and Dad don’t vacillate from enlightening me. Randy and Beth occasionally join in, as do Jana and Blake, but it’s mostly my parents. Words are discharged, floating in muddled clouds around my head and ears, like morning fog roving through the English countryside. My mind isn’t wholly grasping what all is being said, but the gist is there.
    Transformation.
    Pain.
    Relief.
    I get it. Most of it, anyway. I’ll never be human again, unless I choose to be. For most, the human body is capable of so many things, from healing itself to embracing others with emotion to pushing the limits in a marathon race. Above all, though, time is the undying marathon race with humans. When will they draw their last breath? Will they have time to tell their loved ones how much they cared?
    For me, however, it’s not the same. Tomorrow, at 12:01 a.m., I’ll begin my switch. The Candra Lowell I know will be long gone. She’ll be fresh and new . . . and hopefully still alive. There are some who don’t make it through the process, some who give it their best and hope their body won’t fail them. But we don’t know who lives or dies until the change. At least, that’s what I’m being told.
    “I’ve only known of two in my lifetime,” explains Beth, eyes downcast. “It’s not for the weak, Candra. You must know that.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Beth’s been leaning forward, arms latent atop her knees, but she gracefully moves, resting her right side against the arm of the couch. “They were sick. That was the only explanation. When your body is going through such a strenuous change, it needs all of its vitals working properly. If you don’t have that, there’s a strong chance you won’t make it.”
    I try to swallow the knot in my throat, but a sharp twinge reminds me it’s still there. “What else?” My parents, Randy, Beth—all of them—stare at me, speechless. “That can’t be the only reason. I mean, if I wake up at midnight with a sudden cold, you’re telling me I’d die? There’s no freaking way.”
    Mom shifts around on the loveseat, while Dad clears his throat. “Sweet pea, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he says. “You’ll do just fine.”
    I scoff. “Oh, please. If something is even remotely close to going awry, then I want to know what my options are. You guys promised after my