6 Under The Final Moon

by Hannah Jayne

  “Gangs, I think. He told me I was attacked by a gang.”

  “And you believed him.”

  I shrank back from the sting of Mercurochrome. “Give me some credit. That was my first time out.” I gently pressed the pads of my fingers to the cotton ball Alex held at my chin. “I wasn’t seasoned like I am now.”

  I thought about that first time Alex had mopped my wounds, the first time I had woken up, blinking my way out of a concussion. My lower lip popped out on its own.

  “What’s wrong, cupcake?”

  I had a half second of swooning, remembering the sugar-sweet nickname that Alex used to call me before—well, everything.

  “That was before all of this.”

  He raised his brows. “All of this?”

  I felt the tears sting at the back of my eyes once again. “That was before everyone was trying to kill me. Before I knew about the Vessel of Souls. Before I knew that all of humanity was in a constant struggle between good and evil that I was destined to lose for them.”

  I sniffled.

  Alex gently took my hand from my chin, taking both of my hands in his. “We’re going to get through this, Lawson. We always do.”

  I felt a tear itch its way down my cheek. “We always did. Those were cakewalks compared to this, Alex. A psycho cop, a vigilante demon killer, my glass-half-crazy half sister. We’re up against more now. An army. The Grigori. You said yourself that they’ll just keep coming. And . . .” I felt a stab of anxiety. “And there’s my father.”

  Alex’s grip tightened on my hands, and his jaw was set hard, the muscle twitching along the line.

  “You don’t have to face him alone.”

  I pulled my hands from Alex’s and let them fall limply in my lap.

  “What if I do? What if that’s the whole point?”

  He opened his mouth to answer me, but I held up a hand, stop-sign style.

  “When I had that dream,” I started, “the dream about my father? He was coming for me. Everything was swirling and horrible when he had my mother. He was spinning her and she was dying. But everything went back to normal when he came for me. Then we walked into the water. We walked under it like we were going away. Like we were going to Hell.” I sucked on my teeth, my stomach roiling and causing my head to throb that much more. “Maybe he’s trying to eliminate everyone so that he can get what he wants—me. Alone.”

  Alex shook his head. “You never have to be alone. It doesn’t matter what your dad wants. You’ve got Will and Nina and Vlad—”

  Suddenly, I was overcome with dread. “And you?”

  He paused, and the moment stretched on for hours. “Of course you have me. Lawson.” He shook his head, avoiding my gaze. “I love you, Lawson.”

  My heart clanged like a fire bell. I wasn’t sure if it was the declaration of love or the swelling of my nostrils, but I was having trouble breathing.

  Alex loved me!

  But Will . . .

  Instantly, I felt Will’s body against mine, his heart beating a steady, comforting rhythm as his arms encircled me. My heart ached and everything inside me seemed to split, moving in opposite directions.

  Will and Alex. Will versus Alex. For the first time in my life, I had two men who wanted me. And just my luck, it was Armageddon.

  We sat in palpable silence for a beat before I shifted. “So why was it that you came to get me? I mean”—I gestured to my bandages—“this not withstanding.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” He reached into the backseat and shimmied something out of the pocket of his leather jacket. He handed the folded sheaf of papers to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s about your father. And Armageddon.”

  Our eyes locked for a terrifically unsexy minute, and I flashed back onto the texts from the library, back to the line drawing of Lucas Szabo in the packet.

  “Where did you get this from?” I asked, slowly beginning to sift through the loose pages.

  “Around,” was all Alex answered.

  I raised my eyebrows and he waved me off, pulling a stapled packet from the stack. “This is about your father as—”

  “The trickster god,” I supplied, nodding. “I knew about that.”

  In some cultures, Satan was just a fallen angel, no better, worse, or more evil than any of the other fallen. He wasn’t the embodiment of evil; he was just a misunderstood trickster.

  Well, maybe not exactly misunderstood as his “tricks” would often cause widespread famine, disease, or death while he played a fiddle and collected the souls of the hopeless and greedy. But they didn’t think he was all that bad.

  “So, I don’t understand. How does this change anything?”

  Alex flipped a few pages and jabbed at a paragraph that was highlighted.

  I read over the few lines, still confused. “So, his main trick is convincing people that he doesn’t exist. But he does.”

  I glanced at Alex, seeing if I was on the right track. He nodded.

  “I don’t understand how this is going to help anything. Besides, we already knew this.”

  “Maybe his greatest trick can be yours.”

  “Lucas knows I exist. He—” I shuddered, my skin crawling with the thought. “He made me.” Immediately, I brightened. “But he doesn’t know if the Vessel of Souls actually exists.”

  A pleased grin slid across Alex’s face. “So far, it’s all just hearsay and legend.”

  I was moved by Alex’s declaration and Will’s promise to protect me, but I was jaded and beyond believing anything that wasn’t solidly in front of me, smacking me in the face. Tricking my father, and the Grigori, into believing the Vessel of Souls didn’t exist—or at the very least, that I wasn’t it—was a long shot at best.

  I appreciated Alex’s hope, but I knew that no one could protect me from the Grigori forever. I knew that no one could protect me from my father or from the world’s end, period.

  I registered online for Krav Maga classes. Hey, if it was good enough for Madonna and the Israel Defense Forces, I figured it was good enough for learning how to land the occasional roundhouse kick to a rogue vampire’s immortal junk or to the immortal warrior in general. The classes were taught at the Fillmore Community Center in a room between an Ikebana class and a digital photography class, both populated by people twice my age. I felt pretty good when I registered. It was a sunny Saturday morning, and I had used my cunning skills to slip out of my apartment undetected. I wanted my new powers to be a surprise to Sampson and the gang, and I didn’t want anyone (Nina) to point out that my sudden need to kick and bash at things might have something to do with pent-up sexual energy and general romantic anxiety. I still had “figure out Alex and Will” on my to-do list, and I promised myself I would do that right after class—when I was rife with the self confidence that came from learning to defend myself.

  There was a ponytailed woman in cute spandex capris and a matching tank top lightly stretching at the front of the room. She was roughly my height and we had slightly similar builds—hers being of the muscular variety, mine being of the Pillsbury variety. She started to bounce lightly on the balls of her feet, her spunky little ponytail bobbing.

  If she can do this, I reasoned, so can I.

  I tightened my own ponytail and pasted on my most agreeable smile, heading toward Bouncy Spandex.

  “Hi,” I said, starting to bounce with her and flapping my arms in an attempt to warm them up. “My name’s Sophie. I’m kind of nervous. It’s my first day.”

  “Hi, Sophie!” Bouncy Spandex beamed. “You’re going to absolutely love Krav Maga! My name’s Melody.”

  Melody. It went with her cute, heart-shaped smile and her bouncy ponytail. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn that bouncy little Melody, all spandex and sunshine, was a pixie. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Everything Melody said seemed to be punctuated with an exclamation point; everything I said seemed to be capped with a great huffing gasp of air. The class hadn’t eve
n started and already my cheeks were flushing lobster red and sweat was pricking at my hairline. A tiny bead rolled down the center of my sports bra.

  “Are we the only two students?”

  “No,” Melody said, mercifully stopping the bounce to stretch her hamstrings. “Everyone will be here in a few minutes.”

  As if on cue, the wood door flopped open and two old Japanese women pushed in enormous vases full of single stem flowers artfully arranged. “They must be in the wrong place, huh?”

  “Hi, Yuu! Hi, Aikiko!” Melody waved, pushed her legs apart, and did a forward fold that had her hair brushing against the wood floor, and my hamstrings shrinking up in protest.

  The two old women deposited their arrangements and slid off their sweaters, then came to join us on the floor.

  “They’re in this class?” I asked under my breath.

  Melody’s head bounced. “Uh-huh. Both of them have been here from the beginning. Aikiko’s really learning her holds.” Melody’s eyes cut to the ancient Aikiko. “Isn’t that right, girlfriend?”

  I kind of hated when people called each other girlfriend, but it was cute when Melody said it (I figured the woman could say earwax and make it sound adorable). Aikiko grinned and slapped Melody a high five.

  Okay, I thought. This class can’t possibly be that scary if Aikiko and Yuu are regulars.

  I joined in on the stretching, tuning out Melody’s excited explanation of her vegan pineapple soup and slipping into my own head. I stamped out thoughts of the imminent world’s end—I wondered how long that was going to take, anyway—and imagined myself after I had a few of these Krav Maga classes under my belt. I’d be lithe and strong, my chocolate-marshmallow Pinwheel pouch replaced by rock-hard abs and maybe a wicked-looking tattoo of a raven or a beady-eyed teddy bear on my rib cage. Whatever big bad that was lurking in the shadows then (provided the world remained spinning and populated) would be nothing but fodder for my sexy, animalistic rage. I would protect the people with my incredible moves, and shock the baddies with my superhuman-seeming strength.

  Yeah. I would be Sophie Lawson: Savior and Ass Kicker.

  I was considering whether I should hyphenate Ass Kicker when Melody tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Aikiko and Yuu are going to demonstrate some techniques and a short round of sparring. I’ll talk you through what they’re doing and be your partner since it’s your first day.”

  “Okay, that sounds good.”

  Something like excitement shot through me, and I grinned, mimicking the ladies’ slightly bent knees, bouncy stance, holding my hands in front of my chest the way Aikiko and Yuu did.

  Aikiko lunged and Yuu smoothly blocked her advance with a move that looked like she was dancing.

  “Hold your hands up like this,” Melody sang. “This is going to be your first block, the basic block. See how Yuu does it? Smooth. It’s very, very smooth.”

  I told my arms to do the exact same thing as Yuu was doing, but I couldn’t make the command reach the muscles and my arms went sputtering like windmills. Then Melody popped me in the forehead.

  “Hey!” I said, rubbing at the warm spot her fingers had left.

  “Smooth,” Melody said, drawing out the word. “Watch Aikiko and Yuu. Show her again, ladies.”

  I think I did a pretty decent impression and was even able to block Melody’s thin, advancing arms. I was feeling pretty good when I blocked three in a row.

  “Good, good, Sophie!” Melody said, clapping her elfin hands. “Okay, let’s switch it up a little bit.”

  Yuu stepped in front of Melody, and Aikiko stepped in front of me.

  “Okay,” I said with a half-laugh. “It’s just my first day, so go easy on me.”

  Aikiko smiled serenely and took her fighting stance, and I took mine, my mind ticking through the advances and blocks that I had just learned. I was running through the most basic one, trying to get my feet to unwind when Aikiko advanced on me like a shot. I wasn’t able to process anything that happened before I realized I was lying on the floor, cheek pressed up against the sweaty blue mat. Aikiko was on top of me and everything was hurting.

  “Great job, Aikiko!” Melody hopped on her tiny sneakered feet and clapped, and I decided right then and there that I hated her.

  SEVENTEEN

  After class, I hopped on the bus and headed toward the Fillmore District, thinking the overly friendly thoughts that good weather brings. Once there, I picked up a huge bouquet of smiling sunflowers and an armload of celebrity tabloids to appease Nina, and tossed in a few comics featuring chicks with half-exposed huge boobs for Vlad.

  I was feeling generous and hopeful even though I had been made to eat mat by a geriatric Japanese lady who went home with my dignity and an Ikebana sculpture in her reusable grocery bag.

  I took a seat at a tiny, white-clothed table set outside of a little cafe. The waitress came and filled my water glass, mentioned something about specials, and deposited a basket of warm bread.

  “Treating yourself today?” she asked.

  “How could I not? This weather is incredible.” I dropped my head back, relishing the sun on my cheeks.

  “And they say this heat stroke is going to go on until the end of the week.”

  “Heaven.” I grinned.

  “Anyway, my name is Luna, and I’ll be back to take your order in just a few minutes.”

  I was sipping my water and making my way through the bread basket when a shadow fell across my table. I looked up.

  “Alex.”

  His face broke into one of his knee-weakening grins, and the sunlight made him even more frustratingly appealing. He sat down across from me.

  “Hey, what are you doing out here, Lawson?”

  “Having lunch. You?” Before Alex could open his mouth I held up my hand. “Wait. If you’re about to tell me you’re on a case, investigating this place for supernatural rats, or I’m in mortal danger, I don’t want to know.”

  “You wouldn’t want to know if you’re in mortal danger?”

  “Not today.”

  “Okay.” Alex dug into my near-empty bread basket and tore into a sourdough roll. “But I’m not here for any of that. Good bread.”

  I snatched my bread basket back. “My bread.”

  “Grabby.” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. The action made his biceps flex, and I shoved a piece of bread in my mouth to catch the drool.

  “Well, hi there. Can I get you a place set up?” Luna was beaming at Alex.

  “I’m just going to have an iced tea.” Alex eyed Luna for a beat too long and I was stabbed with a pang of jealousy. You and Alex aren’t dating, I reminded myself. You’re a woman in hot demand! You slept with another man!

  I should have stopped while I was ahead.

  I felt the heat wash over me. Embarrassment. Shame. Was he reading my mind?

  It was possible. Alex could read minds. As far as I know he’d stopped reading mine when I’d claimed it was truly unfair that I couldn’t read his or smite him back with some supernatural power of my own. He’d referred to my (bad) cooking and the whole thing had devolved from there.

  “Lawson? Earth to Sophie Lawson?” Alex’s rich voice snapped me back to the here and now. I—and my nipples—sprang to guilty attention when Alex focused on me, the cobalt of his eyes catching the sparkle from the sun.

  “BLT, please!” I didn’t realize I’d shouted it until Luna stepped back, Alex dug a finger in his ear, and every other diner in the establishment turned to glare at me. “Sorry,” I whispered. “And an iced tea.”

  “So you never did tell me why you’re here.”

  He shrugged, and slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. I expected to immediately miss those gorgeous eyes of his, but instead I leaned forward on my elbows, suddenly loving Alex’s “bad boy” look.

  “It’s a nice day. Thought I’d go for a stroll.”

  “Oh. Me, too.”

  There was an awkward pause, and I sipped
my water to avoiding breaking the awkwardness with something downright inappropriate. Luna came back with our drinks, and Alex and I made inconsequential small talk until he finished his tea.

  “Oh,” Luna said, rushing back to our table. “Can I get you more tea?”

  “No thanks, I’m going to get going.”

  She seemed downright sad, and when she returned with my BLT, she all but threw it at me. “Pleasant lady,” I said.

  Alex grinned and pushed his chair back. “Well, nice to talk to you, Lawson.” He paused, still smiling. “I missed this.”

  My eyebrows went up. “You missed what?”

  “This.” Alex drew an invisible line from me to him and back again. “Hanging out. Random banter.”

  I shrank down in my chair, glee oozing out of every pore. “Well, if you want to hang out more, you can call me.” I applauded myself for my grownup lady bravado. “You don’t have to be on the trail of a murderer to come over for a pizza.”

  Alex bobbed his head. “Good to know.”

  He started down the sidewalk, and I nibbled on my sandwich, my stomach rolling over itself and taking my hunger with it.

  “Can I get a box, please?”

  Luna looped her way to every other table and filled up a half dozen water glasses before returning to my Alex-less table with my box. I could have sworn she looked mournfully at his empty chair.

  I boxed my sandwich, left some cash, and headed onto the sidewalk. I didn’t intend to follow Alex; it was just that there were some great stores in the direction he was headed.

  “Hey, miss? Miss?”

  I swung around when I heard Luna’s voice. She was still in her apron, but now out on the sidewalk, waving the black leatherette case my bill had come in. I took a step toward her, but she trotted toward me—at the exact same time a car decided to whip around a stalled Muni bus. The squeal of the tires vibrated through the street, and when the two wheels of the Nissan Sentra rolled up onto the sidewalk, Luna grabbed me and I pulled her down. We both rolled into the alleyway, and while I was sitting on my butt huffing and gawking after the car that had no idea it had very nearly hood-ornamented us, Luna was already standing and walking deeper into the alley.