Flopping onto my bed, I’m convinced confiding in them is a really stupid idea. I know they wouldn’t want me anywhere near that man, and the thought of Enzo ‘insisting’ he see his new daughter makes my stomach lurch. I send a quick text to Rocks telling him I’m home safe. He replies faster than he flips.
When can we go driving again?”
I stifle my laughter in my pillow. Boys! I reply …
You alone?
When he confirms the coast is clear, I call him.
“Connie?” I can hear the shock in his voice. We’ve never called each other before even though he’s had a phone for so long.
“Can you talk?”
“Yeah, nearly had a heart attack. The phone started barking at me, and I dropped it.”
I cover my eyes in the crook of my elbow and try not to laugh. I used to change Dad’s ringtone if he left his phone unattended for any period of time. I guess Dad eventually gave up in the end and that must have been the last crazy ringtone I’d chosen for him.
“Where are you?”
“In bed,” he replies. I grin. I picture exactly where he is lying in that amazing wagon behind his shop, looking up at the carved night sky on his ceiling.
“Me too. I still want to tell them, but I think Strickland’s right and I shouldn’t, so I called you. Distract me.”
“Strickland wants us to visit Duskwing. He’d never say it, but I know he’s secretly seething about one of their members trying to kill me.”
That’s a distraction all right. Finally, his Sire is having the correct response to what happened. Rocks says the Fold had another meeting, and a group has been selected to drop in on them. He also explains that since too many of their members have died, Strickland is reluctant to fly there in case of another surprise attack. They would be forced to fly over miles and miles of residential land away from the safety of the National Forest.
When I ask about the owls, he explains that so far they’ve been safe. Levi, the oldest Fold member, thinks that since they headed to their roost for half of winter, the owls that were released have probably moved on in search of better feeding grounds. However, the Sire is still wary, and members aren’t supposed to be out alone after dark. I shudder at the thought of owls eating them.
“If that colony is called Duskwing, what’s yours called?” I meant to ask Rocks this when we were questioning Zabreena, but as usual I got sidetracked.
“We’re known as the Shadows colony.”
“Cool.” I’m thankful it doesn’t have anything to do with blood. “What about the third one?”
“They’re Vuelo de la Muerte.”
“Sounds Spanish.” I wish I wasn’t on my phone so I could check Google Translate. “What does it mean?”
I hear Rocks sigh down the line. “Death Flight.”
Charming. There’s the sinister, Goth presence I was expecting.
“So will you help us?” Rocks asks quietly.
“Me?” How on earth can I help the Camazotz? “Sure, how?”
“Can you drive us to their farm?” At Rocks saying the word drive, I blush and am so thankful we’re not on Skype.
Rocks explains that Judge isn’t fond of driving on the interstate. He enjoys coming down the mountain to Helen once a month, but Rocks says he barely reaches the speed limit. The interstate full of heavy trucks would be a disaster, and they would draw attention to themselves that they do not need.
“There is no way Strickland is going to agree to this.”
“I told him I’d ask you. It might be another good way for them to see an aeronaught do something good for us. It might help them forgive you for entering the roost.”
Hmmm … he’s right. Camazotz/aeronaught relations aren’t exactly in a good place. I did save Rocks when he had a broken wing, but they all view me as being responsible for that mess. This might be seen as me helping them for nothing in return. It makes me sad that Rocks is thinking the same way. It confirms my suspicions that he does still care what they think of him and his friendship with an outsider.
* * * * *
During dinner the next night, no moment feels right, so I dive in.
“Can I go camping with Rocks and his family this weekend?” The silence that follows is not what I was hoping for. I look back and forth between my parents.
“Ah,” Dad finally speaks. “Sure, but I’d like to meet them first?”
Oh, hell no! My ears are instantly flaming hot. If I’m not careful, they’ll singe my hair. The image of Chad and Kelly being introduced to Strickland and Zada with Rocks and I standing in between makes me pray the ground will open up and swallow me whole before that ever happens. “Well, um, ah …”
Mom comes to the rescue and asks me questions I actually have pre-prepared lies for. Where are we going? Blah, blah, blah. I take a deep breath, answer, and look back at my father helping Mini with her peas.
“Honey, with a boy that has manners like Rocks, his parents must be delightful,” Mom comments to Dad, then smiles at me for confirmation.
I cover my mouth because the idea of Strickland ever being described as delightful makes me want to cry with laughter. I don’t expect he’d be pleased with that description either.
“Truly delightful,” I say, nodding. “And can I borrow the van?” Dad frowns. “With all his siblings, they need an extra car to carry the camping gear.” I struggle to keep my tone light, and hope my glowing ears stay hidden by my hair, lest they out me and my growing list of lies.
The look in Dad’s eyes tells me he knows Rocks and I aren’t just friends, and giving us the van for a weekend is a bad idea. In reality, he can’t possibly know. As I feel my cheeks heat, I’m grateful when Mini drops her fork. I duck under the table and take three deep breaths, trying not to think about making out with Rocks in my Honda, or where the hell I’m going to sleep on this little trip with my brand new boyfriend and his scary-as-fudge father. It’s not like we’re going to get any alone time. Dad honestly has nothing to worry about.
Mom is my savior and convinces Dad that no harm will come to his precious work van. He grunts a yes but eyes me for another solid minute.
“So what happened in world news today?” I ask, hoping to distract him with his favorite topic.
* * * * *
Instead of opening the market on Saturday as planned, it’s decided we’ll drive to Duskwing’s farm. They’re a smaller colony and don’t have an organized market for income like the Shadows. Rocks had whispered to me that this colony believes the Mayan story, and they view what the shaman did to them as a curse rather than a gift. The Duskwing would frown upon how Strickland treats his firstborn son. They understand and share Rockland’s desire to be human.
The sun is high overhead when I arrive at Sanguine Mountain Market. Strickland and Rocks are waiting under a pine tree. A screech from high above has me looking up to find fifteen or so bats hanging in the lower branches. When I take my place next to Rocks, he doesn’t lean in and kiss me, but his index finger slides into my back pocket. I don’t care that our relationship isn’t in the open here, because I haven’t come clean to my folks either, but the fact that he gives me a connection to cling to means the world.
“You don’t have to wear black all the time,” he says in my ear. “I like your bright clothes. Be yourself.”
I shrug, looking up into his gorgeous, blue eyes. “Just trying to help.” He smiles.
My Camazotz passengers consist of four Fold members and their sons—Strickland and Rockland, Judge and Decker, Cypress and Ash, Levi and Mazal—and four other males. Guess that makes me lucky number thirteen.
While the Sire is away from the Shadows, the three other Fold members will guard the colony and market. Mazal is Jeremiah’s older half-brother. They share the same father, Levi, and Mazal looks like he’s seen some action. He’s probably in his late twenties, but his face is weathered with deep-set age lines making it hard to be sure, but that’s not what grabs my attention. His hair is trimmed close to the sc
alp, and across each temple coming from his hairline is a tattooed point that thins down to touch the side of his eyes, turning into thick tattooed eye liner. When he turns to speak with fang-face—Ash—I get a look at the whole design. The back of his skull sports a gruesome bat tattoo, and the wings wrap around his head ending with the wing tips lining his eye sockets. The bat isn’t anything like Rocks’ gorgeous ink. It’s creepy and makes me want to cover my neck on instinct.
The other four males are Jeremiah, and Rocks’ cousin Harland—who helped me when the Vipers were caught following me. Malachite—the guy with the big nose from the Blood Ceremony, or as Rocks would say Graceland’s batfriend. And lastly, the enormous, broad-shouldered dude I saw at the market last weekend. As he lumbers toward me wearing nothing but a black vest, I can’t help but stare at his bulging biceps.
Rocks introduces him as Pegasus. Yep, if he flipped into a horse, he’d be a Bud Clydesdale for sure. Seeing how Rocks is being treated by the colony has given me a keen interest in the hierarchy of their politics. Wings vote together and support each other. Pegasus comes from a small wing that is named for flying creatures and is the older brother of Phoenix from Rocks’ old harem. They apparently vote with the Z wing, and the Z wing vote with the Land wing, which explains why this dude isn’t snarling at me. I’m seriously going to need notes to keep track of these pesky, power-related bloodlines.
Rocks whispers that since Zander has sired only female pups, he’s grooming Pegasus to take over his Fold position when the time comes. Pegasus grunts a hello and immediately turns to give the Sire his attention. He’s got a large tattoo high on his shoulder—a knot of three interconnected crescent moons with large feathered wings sprouting from them.
Harland gives me a grim smile. His viper bites glint in the still-rising sun. As the Fold members stand together discussing today’s plan, Jeremiah and Decker stroll over to join us.
“Good to see you, Beans.” Decker smiles and leans in closer. “Any chance you can get one of your pretty friends to teach me to drive?” His cheeky comment turns my ears into an inferno. I punch Rocks in the arm, and the boys—including normally silent Jeremiah—all snicker. Strickland’s frown turns us all to stone.
Cypress turns his cold stare my way. I’m thankful he’s covered his blood-sucking tats with a dark, silk shirt. “She shouldn’t be with us.”
Rocks steps forward before I can stop him. “Her name is Connie, and she’s the only ride we’ve got. But if you want to risk flying solo …” All I can see are Rocks’ straight, hard shoulders. “Show her some respect.”
Cypress glares past him to me. “The day I listen to a naught-lover will be a sad day indeed,” he scoffs. Jeremiah grabs Rocks’ arm and pulls him back between us.
“These are secrets that she should not know,” he continues. His hands are on his hips, and if what I’m reading from his body language is correct, he is definitely not happy with his Sire.
“It’s not like I’m marching into their secret roost.” I regret my words the second I speak. Reminding them of that time my dad and I did march right into their top-secret roost isn’t going to win me any favors. I’m guessing if the Plant wing had their way, Rocks would be history. My stomach rolls. How can he live with such hate and animosity day and night? “I might be able to help.”
Ash steps up next to his father. “You do not get to have an opinion on Camazotz matters.”
That’s when I see red. His smug, fanged face makes my hands clench into fists. If anyone should be going on this inter-colony excursion, it’s me. I’m the only one present who’s seen the face of that drug-dealing, wing-crushing Camazotz we’re searching for.
“Really? We’re headed to where they sell stuff, right?” Judge nods his head in reply. “And that’s where aeronaughts are allowed to come and spend their money, right? Well, I don’t see you turning away aeronaught dollars here, so I’m pretty sure my money will be welcome there!”
“Watch your tone, naught!” Cypress spits out.
“How many times do I have to tell you that humans are not nothing?” Rocks growls. “We were once just like them, and you would do well to remember that.” The stare-down between Rocks and Cypress cools my temper. I do not want trouble this early in our big day.
“How’s the nau—aeronaught going to find it? I’m betting her sense of direction is as weak as she is.”
“I don’t need a good sense of direction,” I say, smiling. “I’ve got GPS.” I want to stick my tongue out, but I know better. I should not be goading these bats, but their attitude is making it very hard for me to remain respectful.
The Duskwing farm is located in Floyd county. Rocks gives me the address, and as I punch the details into the GPS, I see his long fingers grip his knees. He wants to play with the gadget, but the back of Dad’s van is full of watchful, judgmental eyes. Jeremiah, Decker, and Harland all choose to remain in human form and are sitting on the floor chatting. The rest of my passengers are hanging upside down from the cargo straps Rocks strung across the space. I can feel their eyes scrutinizing my every move.
The first thirty minutes of the trip, I’m sweating like a marathon runner at the Olympics. I don’t know why having these bats watching me drive is affecting me this way. It’s not like they know if I’m a good driver or not. I try to avoid looking in the rearview mirror, seeing their bodies swinging with the motion of the car every time I hear a male voice in my head. They aren’t communicating much thank goodness, but they still manage to make me squirm. I remember how hard it was for Rocks to ‘talk’ to me telepathically at first. Maybe since my brain is used to him poking around in there, it’s easier for me to plug into all the Camazotz frequencies now.
Rocks slides a hand over the bench seat and taps my thigh. “You okay?”
I swallow and nod, glancing in the rearview mirror yet again. “I know,” he whispers and starts fiddling with the radio. Dad is a classic rock fan, and Rocks leaves the radio set to that station. At first, I panic that aeronaught music will piss them off more, but when no complaints echo inside my head, I relax into the drive. It’s only three hours, but that’s long enough with my cargo.
Stopping for an early dinner was interesting to say the least. Rocks, Decker, Jeremiah, Harland, Judge, Levi and Pegasus all kindly accepted my offer of buying them burgers at the truck stop. The waitress who took our order didn’t know she was in the presence of Camazotz, but from her expression and the way she practically threw our food on the table, she had picked up she was in the presence of something. I wanted to strangle her because her rudeness only confirmed the opinions of the bats still hanging in the car.
Judge loved his first taste of sweet potato fries, and in the end, I piled my portion into his plate. Decker has a new appreciation for bacon since I convinced him to try the BBQ bacon cheeseburger. He whispered to me he’s never been that keen on pigs before, and half the guys agreed. It’s not the tastiest blood around apparently. Then Rocks swiped my bacon and announced it was a new favorite. Harland wasn’t keen on the burger at all. I think it was the onions, but he did drain three cans of grape soda and stood eyeing the other flavors in the fridge, while the boys finished their meals. Pegasus made short work of Harland’s leftovers and announced the market needs to invest in a device to create thick shakes.
Twenty minutes later, instructed by the GPS, we pull off the highway.
“Almost there,” I report. The farm is located on a quiet road outside the abandoned town of Livingston.
Flip!
The chorus of loud thuds makes me swerve slightly as the men hit the floor of the van. Entering enemy territory is more dangerous as a bat, so Strickland isn’t taking any risks. Funny how it’s suddenly safer to be a human, but I bite my tongue.
A small sign advertising fresh honey for sale is all that marks the driveway to the Duskwing farm. I remind myself to pick up some for Mom as proof of our trip. The entrance winds through dense trees blocking all the farm buildings from the road. This place is se
cluded and safe from aeronaught eyes.
The two-story main house has a large verandah, which runs the length of the lower level. The building is neat and in good repair with a fresh coat of paint. This place does not have the feel of the Shadows’ market at all. Wandering around Sanguine Mountain makes me believe I’ve stepped back in time—it’s rustic and tired, and has a strange darkness that clings to it. This farm makes me expect a fresh-faced, young couple might reside here.
“Drive around back,” Strickland orders.
The tires crunch on the unpaved drive as I slowly head behind the large house. Hiding behind it is the biggest barn I’ve ever seen. It could house a Boeing-747 and then some. The doors to the barn are closed, and I’m itching to see what’s hidden inside considering this colony prefers to be human.
The place looks completely deserted—not a soul to be seen—but I sense we are under heavy surveillance. I look over at Rocks and watch his Camazotz senses come to life. His eyes dart around, and I don’t even want to breathe in case he misses an aural clue.
“Wait here.” Rocks jumps out of the van and is joined by the others. I notice how the men surround Strickland. Are they protecting their Sire? I rub the scar above my brow. Fudge, these bats make me nervous some days.
Movement in the grey shadow of the looming barn catches my eye. Three men step out into the light from the setting sun.
“Strickland?” one calls. “What do you want?”
Strickland steps to the front of his group but doesn’t move any closer. The heat radiating off my body makes me want to wind down the window, but instead I leave my hands glued to the steering wheel, ready for a quick escape.
“I mean you no harm, Nighthawk, unless you are harboring the Camazotz responsible for the attempt on my heir’s life. If not, I come in peace.”
Sanguine Moon Page 14