Luna on a Chain

Chapter One

Drops of water ran down the windowpanes, forming simple, winding trails. The rain had started so suddenly that I had to go back for an umbrella. The car keys were lost, and now I would have to pick my friend up from the hospital on foot—or sacrifice a few hundred on a taxi.

Opening the umbrella, I stepped out of the building entrance and confidently set off along the sidewalk. Unpleasant puddles had already formed underfoot, threatening to seep into my black pumps. The shoes were completely inappropriate, but I was already too late and had no time to go back. A sudden idea to take a shortcut crossed my mind, and my legs, catching it instantly, turned into the courtyards between the buildings.

How I regretted that decision. The puddles there were enormous, and some of them had to be jumped over. During one such jump, one of my shoes couldn’t take it—the heel snapped.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered angrily and limped on.

That wasn’t the end of fate’s surprises. A sudden gust of wind tore the umbrella from my hands and sent it flying off in an unknown direction. Watching it disappear, I swore loudly and ran toward the hospital.

I entered the medical facility looking like one of its patients: limping, soaked through, and even letting out a few sneezes.

Maya noticed me and followed my entire path from the door to the waiting area with a bewildered look. I sank onto a soft couch and sighed with relief.

“Vera, what happened to you?” my friend asked, assessing my condition.

“My heel broke on the way here, and my umbrella flew off.”

“You walked here? What about the car?”

“I can’t find the keys. We’ll take a taxi back.”

She gave a crooked smile.

“The discharge papers aren’t ready yet. We’ll have to wait a little.”

I sighed irritably and leaned back against the soft backrest. After flipping through a few magazines on the table, I began to fidget. My clothes clung to my body—it was unpleasant and cold. Just my luck today.

The girl at the registration window stirred and, peeking out, called for Maya. Finally. While my friend was signing the papers, I dialed a taxi and placed an order.

When I ended the call, I turned back to her. She was still focused on writing something, and behind her stood a tall, powerfully built man. It was as if darkness itself swirled around the stranger, and a sense of fear and danger pierced me at the very first glance. I studied him closely. Broad, muscular shoulders; black, curly hair—but his face was hidden from view. He leaned slightly toward Maya and seemed to sniff her.

Strange, no matter how you looked at it.

The hands clasped behind his back began to take on disturbing shapes. My heart dropped when sharp black claws emerged from his fingers.

A werewolf.

Panic washed over me.

“Maya!” I shouted, and the man stepped back, pretending nothing had happened. “Hurry up! The taxi’s already here!”

My friend grabbed the documents and headed toward me. We needed to leave as quickly as possible, before that mangy creature caught another scent.

Without looking back, we headed for the exit. Curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced behind. The hall was empty. Only the nurse remained behind the registration window.

Once outside, we got into the car and headed home. We had planned a girls’ night for the evening, complete with all the secrets that came with it.

As soon as the bustle of preparations filled the apartment, the stranger from the hospital was immediately forgotten.

Two of Maya’s friends came over. I didn’t know them well, but I didn’t miss the chance for pleasant conversation with new people. The girls had known each other since university and eagerly reminisced about the past.

As it turned out, Maya had been chased by crowds of boys, but she herself had been hopelessly in love with someone else. That boy never returned her feelings.

Hearing these details from my friend’s life was strangely comforting. The girls tried several times to draw me into a heart-to-heart conversation, but my own secrets would remain locked behind seven seals.

After drinking our fill and sending the girls home by taxi, we finally went to bed.

“Stop!” a heart-rending scream rang out.

It felt as though I was the one screaming—and yet not me at all.

Everything around was dark and incomprehensible. In the center of the darkness, a huge gray wolf appeared. It sat on its hind legs, never taking its animal gaze off me. Then the image shifted. The wolf stood sideways, poised to jump, baring its teeth. Opposite it stood a young man, staring in terror into the face of his own death.

“Stop!” my scream rang out again from the darkness, and the wolf lunged at the man.

A sudden pain shot through my cheek, and I woke up. My scream still echoed in my throat. Breathing heavily, I tried to understand where I was. An angry Maya was sitting across from me. The room was fairly bright—the sun was about to rise over the horizon.

“Why are you screaming like a madwoman?!” Her voice held a strangely incompatible mix of concern and irritation. I often woke up at night with such screams and had probably already driven my friend to the edge.

“Just a bad dream,” I said quietly.

My hand reached up to my face. My cheek was slightly swollen—and probably red. She’d found quite an effective way to wake me.

“Do you want me to lie down with you?” Maya asked more gently.

I just nodded. My friend settled under the blanket.

“Maybe you’ll finally tell me what you dream about at night that makes you scream like you’re being murdered.”

I thought for a moment about whether it was worth stirring up old wounds, then answered:

“Every night I dream about the death of the man I love.”

My friend gasped. I don’t think she had expected that. She didn’t dare ask anything else— and that was for the best. Remembering it was unbearably painful.

The rays of the rising sun filled the room, and we both fell asleep.