[Fosswell 01.0] A Brush With the Moon

by Raquel Lyon

  “Yeah, we’ve got beer too. Take a pew.” Justin nodded at the sofa.

  “Uni tomorrow, remember?” I reminded them.

  “Yeah, but we have a free in the morning…remember? Come on, live a little.”

  “I’ll give it a miss if you don’t mind, guys. It’s been a long day.”

  “Your loss. Night, then,” Beth said grumpily.

  It was stupid of me to have had the afternoon nap. I knew that now. I should have known it before. I never could sleep properly at night after a so-called power nap.

  Mrs Grimmock’s words bounced around inside my head inanely, preventing any form of relaxation. ‘Travellers return when the stars align.’ Was Sebastian one of the travellers? When did the stars align? How much longer would I have to wait? Should I consult an astronomer? And what about ‘coffin-laden’? Not Sebastian inside, please.

  What else had she said? I couldn’t remember everything. Maybe I should have stayed with Connor and talked things through.

  All through the night, I tossed and turned. I lay on my back, my side—staring at Barbie’s luminous hands—my back, my stomach, my other side, my back again. I plumped my pillows, wrapped the duvet around my shoulders, got too warm, kicked it off again, and got too cold.

  The night seemed endless. I must have slept intermittently; spaces of time were missing from my consciousness, but they were blank. No dreams for me that night.

  What time was it? 5:54 a.m. Hmm.

  Traffic started to sound on the streets. I pictured Mr Saliq receiving his morning papers, the bakery up the road arranging freshly baked goodies into a tantalising display, the florist sorting through newly purchased blooms, people going about their everyday business totally oblivious of any other world around them.

  After heaving my stiff and aching body out of bed, I ran a hot bath, climbed in and lay my head against the waterproof pillow and closed my eyes. The water was soothing and relaxed me so much that I finally fell into a deep sleep, waking only as the door crashed open and a sleepy Justin sauntered in, an un-pretty picture in his pyjama bottoms.

  “Sorry. Don’t mind me,” he muttered. “Didn’t know it was occupied. Must take a whiz.”

  How long had I been here? The water was freezing. I shivered. “It’s a good job you’re gay. Could you hand me a towel, please?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “WE’RE OFF TO the gym now, Soph. Got an extra taekwondo lesson this morning,” Beth said while I was checking I’d packed enough paint for my final assignment piece. “See you after class!” she shouted, play-fighting with Justin as they opened the door and fell through it laughing.

  The morning was dismal, with a nip in the slight breeze.

  I wandered over to the church. Discarded, decaying flower heads mingled with soggy confetti on the damp pavement, the only remnants of the weekend’s happy occasion. In the side graveyard, I found a place where a cherry blossom tree overhung the adjacent garden wall, and unfolded my stool and easel at the side of Simone’s grave to start work.

  Time passed. A blossom flew onto my canvas and stuck to the wet paint, interrupting my concentration and drawing attention to my almost numb fingers. Time to leave. I had enough to work with, anyway.

  On the pavement, Boatman John stood clinging to the church railings, staring straight at me.

  A funeral cortège pulled up outside the gates, and I watched transfixed as a small white coffin was pulled from the hearse and carried into the church. The only audible sound was the sobbing coming from a distraught Mrs Marshall, whose frail form had to be supported on the way to her daughter’s final farewell.

  I passed by silently, managing to avoid Boatman John, whose eyes I could feel boring into my back as I wondered how much of the child was actually contained in that wooden box. Still trying to wipe the gruesome vision from my mind, I hurried along the road to uni.

  ***

  “Thank you, Sophie,” Mr Arkwright said later that day. “They’re all in here, are they? May I take a look?”

  I nodded as the professor lifted the cover of my portfolio and flicked through the assortment of canvases, satisfied I’d managed to complete the graveyard scene in the relative warmth of the cafeteria and slot it in at the last minute.

  “Yes, yes, very good. I particularly like the contrast of the russet-red fox poking its nose in the grey bins. Should do well with that one.” He smiled and added my portfolio to the growing pile. “Settle down now, people. Today we will be discussing…”

  Mr Arkwright’s voice blended into the background as I sat down and let my mind go off on one of its wanderings. Quite how I would be able to write a three-thousand-word essay on a subject that I was paying absolutely no attention to, I had no idea.

  On my way home, I passed by the gym, where Triplasian practice was obviously popular. A group of fencers were standing in the far corner discussing tactics as they waited for their turn on the mat, and closer to me, the more energetic bo staff fighters gave an impressive display of prowess until one boy failed to move quickly enough and the staff landed unceremoniously between his legs.

  I couldn’t see Connor. Perhaps he’d decided not to compete. Of course the tournament would be something else Sebastian would miss if he didn’t come home. I wished he would come home.

  When I reached the front entrance, I glanced over to the reception desk. “See you tomorrow, Sophie.” Marie waved.

  I waved back. “Yeah, see ya.”

  At the bottom of the steps, Lara was sliding into the passenger seat of a black Porsche convertible, ably assisted by…Tyron. Damn. He saw me, flashed his pearly whites, and doffed an invisible cap, an action which made Lara turn to discover his audience. She scowled at me as they sped off. I briefly wondered why Connor had allowed her relationship to continue when Sebastian had made it perfectly clear that Tyron was a danger to her, and then dismissed the thought. Lara’s safety wasn’t my problem.

  During the afternoon the sky had darkened, threatening rain. I hurried along the street towards home, passing the graveyard with its fresh mound of sad earth, and was within sight of the flat when the first drop fell. As I sped up to a jog, the heavens opened, so I pulled my hood up and ducked my head down, praying that I would reach home before the rain touched my face.

  A black Porsche sat outside the club. Tyron must be paying a visit to his brother. Vincent would love that…not. Next door, Steve the butcher was pulling a display of meat into the safety of the shop. He saw me and waved. I waved back quickly and turned into the alley. Nearly there.

  “Why, Sophie, what’s the hurry?”

  I knew the voice. Tyron. Keeping my head down, I held on to my hood for dear life. “Let me past, please.”

  “What, no cheery hello? No kiss for an old friend?”

  His arm looped around my waist, drawing me to him, and his other hand grabbed at my chin to lift my face. I struggled in his grasp, twisting and writhing to escape.

  “Get off me!” I shouted. “Leave me alone.”

  “Not until you give me what I want, you little firecracker. And you will give it to me,” he snarled. “Look me in the eye.”

  The sight of the paving stones blurred before me. His grip was strong, and it stole my breath as I fought back. I was wearing my pendant, but I couldn’t reach it through all the clothing layers. Could I will it to work anyway?

  “Need some help there, Sophie?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Steve’s legs and the glint of a meat cleaver hanging beside them. More legs appeared behind him. Our tussle had drawn a crowd.

  Tyron relaxed his grip enough for me to wriggle free and flee up the stairs to safety.

  “Chill, mate. No need to overreact. It was simply a disagreement between friends,” I heard Tyron say before I slammed the door shut and locked it behind me.

  I threw my bag on the floor, grabbed a towel, and rushed to the front window with my heart pounding, just in time to witness Tyron climb into his car and speed off.

  Ste
ve looked up, inclined his head, and mouthed, “Okay?”

  I smiled back at him, nodding.

  Tyron had backed down quite easily, considering he could probably take down Steve with a flick of his wrist. A little too easily, maybe.

  That night, a sudden chill in the air disturbed my sleep. I must have left the window open a crack. I rolled over to investigate and froze, wondering if I was still asleep and dreaming.

  The final trails of mist slid under the sash and swirled around the foot of my bed before taking human form.

  Tyron began unfastening his jeans. “I’ve come to collect. You’ve kept me waiting long enough, and this time there’s no audience.”

  “Get out, before I-I…”

  “Before you what? Scream? Please, go ahead. I kind of like it.”

  I shuffled up the bed, trying to put as much space between us as possible. “Leave me alone. I’m warning you.”

  “Warning me? Great. I love a challenge. Now, let’s see what you’ve got that has the Lovell men so pussy-whipped.” He mounted the bed and made his approach, tearing the covers away.

  I screamed.

  He crawled closer, like a cheetah stalking its prey. I tried to escape, but he pulled me under him and pinned me to the mattress.

  “No!” I shouted. “Get off me! Stop!”

  I flung my hand out to feel for my pendant on the bedside table, and accidently knocked it to the floor. The more I struggled, the more Tyron laughed, taking pleasure in the moment. His breath smelled of whisky. I fought to quell the bile that threatened to make an appearance as his fingernails grew into talons and clawed at my nightdress, ripping the flimsy material.

  “Sophie? Sophie, are you okay? Are you having another nightmare?” Beth’s voice grew louder, and she started to open the door.

  I willed her to go away. Tyron was dangerous. I couldn’t stand it if he hurt Beth too.

  Tyron turned, and rays shot from his eyes, twisting and distorting the air like spirals of glass. The door slammed shut. My heart pounded in my chest as he looked back down at me, revealing the monster inside. Black veins in his temples pulsated around eyes with glowing red pupils as his skin rippled.

  He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Your little friend can’t help you,” he said, trailing a sharp nail slowly down my neck hard enough to leave a bloody path in its wake.

  I couldn’t answer. His other hand pressed hard against my mouth. I stared, wide-eyed, at his changing face. The handsome human mask he wore had all but vanished. Under practically transparent skin, the black veins spread across his skull, threatening to burst through the skin’s surface, and his nostrils had narrowed to mere slits.

  Fighting to avert my gaze, I witnessed Beth’s terrified expression as her head vanished back through the door it had just penetrated. I was running out of strength to fight. Tyron surveyed his handiwork proudly before stooping to lick the bloody trail with obvious arousal. He moaned and clawed at my body eagerly. The stiff lace of my bra scraped roughly against my skin as it was torn away. His mouth closed around my breast and he sucked hard as he pushed my legs apart with his knees.

  Managing to free my hand, I felt around the floor for my pendant, but just as I gripped the cool smoothness of the stone, Tyron’s weight lifted from me, wrenched away to the sound of ferocious growls.

  “Ever seen a dead man fly?”

  I’d never seen Connor so angry. His face contorted as he ground his teeth. Was he about to change? Here? In my room?

  I clutched the sheet to my chest as Tyron—who’d landed against my cupboard, shattering a panel—rose back to his feet in the blink of an eye. Connor lashed out at him again, but the assault was expertly dodged.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Tyron scoffed, his handsome face briefly returning before the smoke reeled and snaked under the window and out of sight.

  Connor ran over, grabbed the frame, and slammed it shut, then paused to take a breath. “That bastard’s gonna pay,” he said, struggling to keep his composure along with his human form. He stood trembling for a minute before turning to face me. “Sophie. You’re hurt. Bleeding.” His concern was touching, but unnecessary. It was over. I was alive. “He didn’t…um…” He shook his head and breathed deeply. “Well, he didn’t manage to…you know…did he?”

  “No. No, I’m fine, honestly,” I said. “He scared the shit out of me, and I’ll probably be covered with bruises tomorrow, but it could have been worse.”

  “Not much. A few minutes later and it would have been a different story.”

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “Beth rang, and I tripped over. Pack your bags. I insist you come home with me. Beth, too. It’s the only place I can keep you safe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE BEDROOM door burst open, and Sebastian stood there large as life and gorgeous as ever. “There you are. I went to the flat. It was empty. I was worried.”

  “You’ve left your concern a little late,” I said, trying to hide my elation at his return.

  “I came back as soon as I could.” His voice took on a little-boy-lost tone, clearly expecting empathy, and when he didn’t get it, he continued, slightly chafed, “We found Jimmy, in case you’re interested. He’s being transported to Carleigh General as we speak. He’ll be given Mathanway’s potion, but it’s critical. I’m not sure we’ve caught him in time. He might not make it.”

  “Worth the trip, then.”

  He huffed. “Nice to know you care. I thought you’d be pleased to see me. We’ve been apart for weeks. I was expecting open arms, not animosity, but perhaps you lie in someone else’s arms now?” His gaze held a challenge. “Con?”

  “Seb.”

  They saluted one another politely.

  “I see my side of the bed is nicely warmed.”

  “Huh? Nah, man. You’re way off there, dude. You left me on guard, and Tyron’s been sniffing around.”

  “Tyron? Tyron Reith?” Sebastian’s nostrils flared with anger. “You should have told me.”

  Oh, now he was worried about me.

  “Yeah? Well, you gotta answer your phone for that,” Connor said.

  “Does he know? About Sophie?”

  Connor shook his head. “I don’t think so. His nose is out of joint. He wanted to add her to his conquest cabinet.”

  “I hope you ensured he didn’t?”

  “Did my best—but if he’d succeeded, I wouldn’t blame myself. You’ve been gone ages, man. She’s your girlfriend, your responsibility.” Connor rose, and they faced up to each other. “And yet you leave me here with all the bodyguard duties.”

  “Well, I’m back now, and I don’t plan on going anywhere soon.” Sebastian stood firm.

  There was a tension between them I hadn’t noticed before, and Connor stared a little longer than necessary into Sebastian’s eyes before giving a gentle nod of his head. “I’ll leave her with you, then.” He grabbed his T-shirt from the nearby chair and left.

  I felt deflated, uneasy. I loved Sebastian, but Connor had always been there for me. I missed him already.

  Sebastian undressed in silence and slid in beside me.

  “Tell me about these,” he said, touching the marks left by Tyron.

  “Nice of you to notice.”

  “I do care. More than you think.”

  “Not enough to be here, to prevent Tyron from doing these.” I stroked the scars with obvious distaste.

  Sebastian pushed himself up. “But Con said Tyron hadn’t…I mean…”

  “Not for want of trying. I’m so grateful Connor was there to stop him.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He stroked my cheek. “I should have been here.”

  “You left without saying goodbye. Even Marissa got a goodbye.”

  “I knew you’d try to stop me, or worse, want to go, and I had no idea we’d be gone so long.”

  I wasn’t letting him off that easily. “You never called or emailed.”

  “I wanted to, hon
estly, but we were being watched. I couldn’t risk a connection. Forgive me?” His little-boy-lost voice returned, and he stared at me with pleading eyes. Those eyes. The eyes of my dreams.

  My dreams meant something. I knew that. I’d known it since childhood. I just didn’t know what, back then. Now I did. Whatever our problems, Sebastian and I were meant to be together.

  I relaxed and allowed him to close in for a cuddle. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”

  ***

  Tokala’s image blended into the white-walled background. I saw myself lying on crisp white sheets behind muslin curtains. Soundless tears trailed down my cheeks and seeped into the pillow.

  The goddess spoke. ‘There’s no need for sadness, my child. The journey is hard, but the destination is worth the toil.’

  ‘People are dying because of me.’

  ‘And more will live for the same reason. Be strong. Only you hold the answer.’

  ***

  “I want to see him,” Beth said over breakfast.

  “Not a good idea. He’s pretty messed up.” Sebastian said to dissuade her. “The hospital called. The potion’s not working,” he continued sadly. “It’s working for others—keeping them stable, at any rate. But it seems there’s no hope for Jimmy. We found him too late. I’m afraid he’s nearing the end.”

  “I can handle it, honestly. I mean, how bad could it be?”

  Sebastian paused mid-mouthful and glanced up at me through his eyelashes, trying to gauge my reaction. I gave him a look that said everything: Beth deserved the truth. I wasn’t going to hide things from her again.

  He chewed a couple more times and swallowed. “Okay, maybe after the funeral. I’d appreciate it if you would skip class and come with us, Sophie.”

  Mrs Grimmock’s words returned to me. “Funeral? Who died?”

  “Lorn. Parel’s son. We came across him by chance, in Moscow. He was in a bad way. He got into a drunken brawl with another of our kind. We arrived too late to save him. There aren’t many of his side of the family remaining, so I’d like to show some support.”