Talbot nodded.

“Then why did we come here?”

“Because this was a test, Grace. I needed to know if you were ready, and clearly you’re not. What you saw here, what happened in that alley on Monday, that was just child’s play compared to what we’ll eventually face. This little band of amateurs was only four strong. The real gang is probably five times as big.”

That thought sent chills down my spine. “So you knew Jude wasn’t here before we came busting in?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you say … Why did you make me think he was?”

“Because I needed to get you worked up enough to act. Your emotions—that’s where your power comes from.”

Talbot’s words confused me. “But that’s not what Daniel says. He always tells me to pull back when I get angry. He says the key to learning to use my powers is balance. He says I should never allow my emotions to get the better of me if I want to learn to use my powers without giving in to the wolf.”

“Then you should start asking yourself what reason Daniel has for holding you back.”

Heat flashed in my cheeks. Talbot’s right, a voice said inside my mind. Daniel did want to hold me back.

But that still didn’t mean Talbot was right and Daniel was wrong.

Talbot stood up so he was standing right in front of me, only a few inches separating us. He looked into my eyes with his piercing gaze. He reached out and touched my moonstone necklace. I wanted to flinch away from his touch, but I didn’t.

“You’ll never reach your full potential if you keep wearing this,” he said. “I ditched mine a long time ago.”

“You threw away your moonstone? Where’d you even get one? I thought they were rare.…”

“Old family heirloom. I’m better off without it.”

“But Gabriel says the moonstone is the only thing that keeps the wolf at bay. Gabriel—”

“Gabriel?” Talbot pulled his hand away from my necklace and stepped back. “You know Gabriel?”

“Yes.” Assuming he meant the same one. “Gabriel Saint Moon?”

Talbot let out a harsh laugh. “He calls himself Saint Moon now? That’s ironic.”

“You know about Gabriel and the Saint Moons?”

“Gabriel is a notorious coward.” Talbot spread his arms out at his sides. “And I am a Saint Moon.”

I almost gasped. “You are?”

“Or at least my mother was. She was a direct descendant of Katharine and Simon Saint Moon, the first werewolf hunter in my family. By the time my mom was born, the Saint Moons had supposedly retired from the demon-hunting gig, but both my parents were crypto-zoologists. They’d travel around researching local demon mythology—but I imagine they did a little slaying on the side when times called for it. That is, until they had me. They stopped traveling and settled down in a small town in Pennsylvania. The Saint Moons had a truce with Gabriel’s pack, which lived in the nearby mountains, but then, on my third birthday, my parents were slaughtered by a rogue band of werewolves from that pack—right in front of me.”

This time I did gasp. I covered my mouth with my hand.

“One of the unexpected guests decided to leave me with a special birthday present.” Talbot pulled up the bottom of his flannel shirt and showed me the large crescent-shaped scar that looked almost like a tattoo on his well-cut abs.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Talbot lowered his shirt. “Gabriel is the one who should be sorry. He could have stopped those werewolves, but he didn’t. It would have meant getting his hands dirty. And his alpha, Sirhan, barely even punished the wolves that killed my parents. They deserve what’s going to happen to their pack when Sirhan dies.…” He pursed his lips and looked down at his feet.

“What happened to you after that?” I couldn’t imagine being so young and having your parents killed right in front you. He would’ve been only six months older than Baby James.

“I was sent to live with my grandfather on his farm. He was already caring for my mentally disabled cousin. Our grandfather used to fill the two of us with all these stories of the great Saint Moons. Demon fighters. Brave to the very end. Used to show us this old silver dagger. He died after a stroke when I was only thirteen, and that’s when I decided to carry on the legacy. Only I have an advantage over Simon and all the other Saint Moons—I’ve got superpowers. And unlike cowards like Gabriel, I use them.”

“Your cousin, the mentally disabled one, was he the only family you had left?”

Talbot nodded. “I couldn’t take care of him, and he couldn’t take care of me, even though he was a lot older. I haven’t seen him since the day our grandfather died. But we’re the last of the family.”

“No,” I said. “Don’s dead. I knew him, and he died ten months ago. But he’d wanted to be a hero like you.”

Talbot lowered his head, and his shoulders slumped. That was why he seemed strangely familiar. Even though none of their specific features were identical, there was still a family resemblance there—that familiarity that struck me so many times before—in the shape of his mouth, the tone of his voice, and the largeness of his hands. Talbot reminded me of a much younger, attractive, mentally and physically sound Don Mooney. There was even a slight resemblance to Gabriel—the two could also be cousins.

“That means you’re the last real Saint Moon,” I said.

Talbot bent down. He’d found his baseball cap. He scooped it up and put it on his head. “I’m going to check the rest of the house for bodies. I doubt those creatures were welcome houseguests of whoever used to live here.”

He started toward the stairs, then stopped and looked back at me. “You did a decent job here today. We’ve just got a lot to work on before we start thinking about going after the real gang.” He gave me a half smile. “We will find your brother. I promise.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Get to work on healing those marks on your face. I bet you can find a towel in one of the bathrooms and wash up a bit. I can’t take you back to the bus looking like that.”

A FEW MINUTES LATER

I found a small bathroom off the kitchen. Yellow rings stained the inside of the sink, and the mirror was cloudy and cracked. An old, stiff towel hung from a tarnished-brass towel ring. I pulled it from the metal loop and used the corner of it to clean a section of the mirror. I stared at the red-rimmed eyes of my reflection and then my pale face and disheveled hair. Red marks shaped like long-taloned fingers painted my neck where Mishka had grabbed me, and three angry, blistering burns welted my face from the Gelal’s acid blood.