Whispers at Moonrise

swirling around him like a tiny tornado. Socks, raised up on his hind legs, swatted at the bits of herb.
    And then, just like magic—well, it was magic—Socks the skunk disappeared and Socks the feline appeared.
    Miranda gaped at Kylie. “How did you do that?”
    Kylie’s gaze shot back to her kitten, still batting at the sparkling herbs floating around him. “I didn’t do that!” She stared at Miranda.
    “Oh, my gawd!” Miranda squealed.
    Someone whisked past them in a blur.
    “What the hell is it now?” Della came to a jolting stop by Miranda.
    “She’s a witch.” Miranda pointed at Kylie. “You’re a witch.”
    Kylie shook her head. She was a chameleon. “I didn’t do that. It was you. Just … a delayed reaction.”
    “No. You’re a witch. Right now, you’re a witch.”
    Della rolled her eyes. “What the hell?”
    “I’m telling you, I didn’t do that,” Kylie insisted.
    And she hadn’t. Had she?
    Della squinted at Kylie.
    “Mofo!” Della said.
    Miranda slapped her forehead a couple of times. “Your pattern says you are a witch.”
    “What’s wrong?” A deep voice came from behind Kylie.
    Kylie turned around. Derek, looking disheveled as if he’d climbed out of bed in a hurry, came running up.
    “She’s a witch,” Miranda screeched.
    “No,” Kylie said. Swinging around, she stared at Socks, still in feline form. Her father had told her she was a chameleon. Her father would know, right? Sure, she hadn’t wanted to be a lizard at first, but she’d accepted it. Besides, why would her father lie?
    From the corner of her vision, she saw Derek move in front of her. His brow pinched.
    “It’s not true, is it?” Kylie waited for Derek to deny it.
    Doubt filled her. Had Daniel lied? Had her grandmother just been confused when she told Kylie’s father they were chameleons? But why would Burnett have heard of chameleons if they didn’t exist? Why did her life have to be so damn difficult?
    “Tell me already!” Kylie insisted. “Am I a witch?”

 
    Chapter Eleven
    Derek nodded. “It’s true. Your pattern says you’re a witch.”
    Miranda folded her arms against her chest. “Don’t you want to be a witch?” She sounded offended.
    “Of course she doesn’t want to be witch,” Della mouthed off, still looking pissed at being woken up. “It’s boring as hell. You don’t do anything but throw herbs around and the only way you can fly is on a broom.”
    “It’s not boring! And I do not fly on a broom! I swear, one witch did that and now we all get stereotyped.” Miranda’s eyes tightened with anger.
    “Admit it,” Della said. “If you had the power to change yourself, you’d be a vampire.”
    Miranda vehemently shook her head. “Who would want to be a bloodsucking, cold bitch with fangs!”
    Kylie stared at the two of them verbally sparring, tossing insults so fast she couldn’t even keep up. Then, too befuddled to intervene, she grabbed Socks before he wandered off in the woods.
    Her gaze shifted back to the trees. The woods still called to her. What the hell was going on?
    Her mind whirled as she headed to the cabin. Derek fell in step beside her. His shirt, left unbuttoned, fluttered open, exposing his hard abs. Not that she really noticed. Okay, so she noticed, but it didn’t mean anything. Except that she was female and females found shirtless guys appealing.
    “You’re feeling confused,” Derek stated.
    “Yup.” She didn’t slow down. She couldn’t. She was too annoyed that she found him so appealing. Too annoyed at the damn woods calling her like an old friend to come out and play. She didn’t have any old friends. Not anyone looming in the woods.
    “You’re feeling betrayed,” he said.
    “Yup. Well, sort of.” She continued to the cabin and snuggled her kitten to her chest. Her heart ached and the beginning of tears stung her eyes.
    “And you’re scared.”
    “Three out of three,” she said. Yet all she felt now was …
    “Frustrated.” Derek finished her thought for her.
    She stopped and looked him dead in the eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what I feel. I know what I’m feeling.”
    “And you’re in a pissy mood,” he added with a smile. When she didn’t respond in kind, his humor faded. “Sorry. I’m just … I want to understand.”
    “You know what I’m feeling; what more do you need to understand?” She stormed up the porch steps with Socks tucked under one arm, and yanked the door open so hard it made a loud