THE SECOND MATE OF A PREGNANT LUNA

Chapter 03

It was a little after 3 pm when I woke up from the dream. It had been a long time since I had gone to bed. The whole thing was still unreal. In a way, the pain of grief was no longer so painful. Seeing Angus in the dream calmed me down. I stroked my belly, smiling. I felt that it was indeed a boy. Likewise, I felt bad that I couldn't take the wish of finding out at birth, as Angus had, but the look in his eyes and his warm, loving speech clarified for me that it was no longer a problem not to wait. The issue now had a name, and that name was Martin.

The neighbor Helga knocked on the door a few minutes after I woke up. Like me, she was a Luna. She was of Lupine descent, so she possessed some of the advantages that werewolves had in their human forms, only she did not transform. The Luna's who were wolves, said that pregnant women had a different smell during pregnancy. They had the power to detect the beginning, the period, and even the birth just by the smell. Helga appeared on my doorstep, claiming that I smelled like childbirth.

"I'm not giving birth, Helga," I said. "I would know, wouldn't you?" I questioned her.

"I know that, Lacey," she spoke up. Helga was older, around forty-five, and had three children, all werewolves. None of them lived in the area and I had only seen them twice. "But your smell is of labor, I'm certain," she confirmed once again.

"Helga, I must apologize, but I still need to rest," I ordered, sitting down on the bed, "Don't worry, if I smell anything, I'll run to your place." It took a few minutes to convince her that I was not giving birth. Convinced by my arguments, she finally left the house. I didn't tell her about the dream, I hadn't planned to.

Buttery cookies had been my break. Helga was an excellent cook, I had never had such a good cookie. Maybe it was the pregnancy.

It was almost 6:00 p.m. when I felt great anxiety. Staying in the house gave me chills and a kind of fear. It seemed as if the house was trying to throw me out. Scared and fearing that some supernatural neighbors would find me, I ran to the nearest house where I would not go through this. Martin, Martin's house…

I didn't have the manners to knock on the door, I just felt it open and then opened it. I had been in Martin's house before, having had enough time to know that the only means of security he had was a gun. Every guard had one. Martin took turns working with the werewolves that had more control over the full moon. Rarely did he and Angus take a shift together. The rule was absolute: no human who is not assigned can know of the werewolves' existence. I, as a human Luna, had that right. In the neighborhood, two others were like me. Martin, and some boys and girls, did not know about us, even though we were in the majority. Everyone had work in the forest, at least all the men.

Martin's house was dark. There was only a single light on, and it was so dim that it didn't take me long to identify it as being from some candles. I walked to the light, looking for Martin. Only a minimal part of me was interested in whether he was all right or not. In a way, I hoped he would die from the bite, but the thought of watching him suffer through the torture of transformation was also comforting. I had never become a close friend or person to him, I just saw him and said hello on several occasions during the day. All I knew about Martin was that he went to the market a lot and that he was a perfect ranger. And that he knew how to use a gun very well. Angus didn't he was completely incapable of using a gun properly. The reason Martin was so good at what he did was that he didn't have many competitors, since all wolves were incompetent with weaponry. They were bred to fear them, not to use them. Rogues were seen as a disgrace by the packs. The memory of the black snake returned to me.

"Lacey?" I heard a voice call out. I was still walking around the room when I heard where it was coming from. I continued to follow the light, quietly, as I leaned on the rustic furniture in the house. The lighting was pretty bad.

"Lacey, it's you, isn't it?" I heard the voice again. Martin had an annoying, masculine voice. Maybe I just hadn't liked him forever. I finally reached the bedroom, where I found Martin shirtless, lying on the bed anyway. He was sweating profusely.

"Martin?" I asked, rhetorically. He didn't look very well. Unfortunately, he didn't look nearly dead. Hatred settled in my mind and I felt like killing him. He was standing there, so fragile and almost helpless. No one could blame me. Unfortunately, as I thought about that, I felt a chill and a voice told me to relax. A few flashes from the dream came to my mind. Angus talking to me about Martin. I was there, with him.

"I'm smelling things," he said. "I've smelled you. It's like…," I didn't let him finish.

"Jasmine and Lavender. I know," I finished the sentence. Angus told me that every week. It was cute at first, but after the pregnancy took hold and my senses began to sharpen, I started to find the smell cloying. Maybe it was a satire of my life. I had never thought myself worthy of Angus, let alone a creature like werewolves.

"I can't move right, I feel sick. I'm sweating a lot, I must have a fever," he said, touching himself.

"No, I don't forgive you for killing the love of my life, thanks for asking," I mocked him. "I and the baby are fine if you must know," I scoffed even more. The urge to kill him became strong again.

"Love of your life? What are you talking about?" he asked me, confused. "I killed a ridiculously large wolf," he said. Perhaps Martin was blind, for Angus' form did not look exactly like a wolf. It was dark, indeed, but it was not a large wolf. I could not judge Martin, perhaps I, at other times, did not think about the possibility that it was a supernatural creature. "How could the love of your life be that thing?" he asked, even more confused. My blood boiled. It wasn't good for the baby, but my mental health and emotions refused to be relegated to something without a proper term.

"That thing is what you're going to become, asshole," I yelled, not thinking whether anyone would hear. The truth hurt, and I wanted Martin to feel pain, I wanted him to feel a lot of pain.

He looked at me wide-eyed and moved vaguely closer to me.

"Blood," he said, looking at me.

I was bleeding, again.