Moonset tlom-1

by Scott Tracey

  “We’ll have to look for that, too.” Magic was a language, and that meant there was a written component, too. Maybe the symbol on the door was some kind of spell, and it had been carved there by whoever’s voice had been in my head. Written magic could be just as devastating as the verbal kind—it definitely could have burned down the house.

  The question was why.

  We headed towards Main Street and the coffee shop, just as he’d promised. Mal turned the radio up the moment I got in, and we left the discussion of the fire and the symbol back at the house. Carrow Mill didn’t have a Starbucks or a fancy coffee place, but it had the mom-and-pop equivalent, and that was good enough for me.

  “Told you we’d meet again, big guy,” an amused voice called out before I’d even finished climbing out of the SUV.

  It was her. Ash. Sitting on a sidewalk bench not twenty feet from us, completely oblivious to the way my heart dropped into my stomach. She had her phone between her hands, thumbs still texting away even though her eyes were on me.

  “Who’s this?” Mal said as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatshirt, eyes already crinkling and a smirk on his lips. Ugh. He was going to be a dick about it, I could already tell.

  “This,” she said, “is Ash.” She stood up, a Styrofoam cup in hand. Like she was a model on display. And I mean, I didn’t exactly mind. She was wearing a leather jacket over a purple top and jeans tucked into her boots. She looked like she was about to kick someone’s ass. I just hoped she’d let me watch.

  “Of course you are,” Mal said slowly, giving me the side eye. “So you’re the girl he met.”

  If you swallow me up right now, I promise I won’t mind, I prayed to the earth. Actually, on second thought, take him instead. I waited, hoping that the sudden cave in that swallowed up my brother wouldn’t do too much damage. But nothing happened.

  Ash looped her arm through Mal’s. “Obviously. I’m guessing you’re the big brother?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  The pair of them went inside, as though I wasn’t even a factor anymore. Wait, what the hell?

  How had that happened? I hurried in after them, nearly tripping over my feet. Inside, the coffee shop was all blacks and somber greens, which actually fit my mood perfectly. A girl showing more interest in Mal than me wasn’t unusual, but the fact that Mal was encouraging it was.

  Love seats and couches were spread out into tiny little nooks, broken up by dust-covered plastic plants trying to feign the illusion of privacy.

  “I like this one,” Mal said as he craned his neck over one shoulder to look back at me. “How’d you find a girl this fun, anyway?”

  I glared in response.

  “She found him, of course,” Ash said, stepping up to the counter and flashing that devil-may-

  care grin my way. “Come on, Ponyboy, let’s figure out what you’re drinking.”

  Even though I didn’t want to, I stepped forward like a dog being beckoned. Eager, even.

  “Coffee.”

  She tsked. “Not even going to try a bold new flavor?” I could hear Malcolm chuckling behind us. “Don’t worry,” she said without looking back at him, “we’ll deal with your drink next.” She stared up at the menus, hand written on tiny little blackboards. “I think you’d like the Turtle

  Mocha.”

  I looked at the list of ingredients. “Definitely not. It’s more syrup than coffee!”

  “Spiced Apple?”

  “I’m not a big fan of apples.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think that’s really possible. No one hates apples.”

  Mal laughed. “He didn’t say—”

  She held up a finger. “Tut tut, bigger brother. You’ll have your turn. Grown-ups are talking.”

  I don’t think a girl had ever talked to Malcolm like that in our entire lives. We exchanged a look, both shocked into silence. Girls flocked around Malcolm like he was the second coming of swiveling hips and rock and roll. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Ash snapped her fingers a few times, still focused on the menu. “Come on, Captain No-Fun, don’t be boring and ask for French Vanilla.”

  “I like French Vanilla!”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “You’ve met Jenna, remember? Rule number one, you never upstage the star.”

  Her head tipped and her smile widened. “Good point.”

  Malcolm coughed. “Better hope she didn’t hear that.” Ash glanced backwards, and Mal added, “They have that whole twin-brain thing.”

  I turned, placing my hands on the railing. “You should finish your errands,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, but I like the brother. He can stay,” Ash decided.

  Malcolm, traitor that he was, didn’t help matters. “Errands can wait. ”

  There had to be a spell that caused an acne outbreak. Maybe pair it with something to make his hair fall out. Jenna would probably know, I mused. I’d have to ask her.

  Mal deserved it.

  “So Justin got a bowl cut, all because his sister and I told him it was the coolest haircut ever.”

  The three of us sat down by a small, round end table.

  “So he just … let you cut his hair?” Ash had her hand over her mouth, trying to hold in the laughs. Malcolm was a decent storyteller, lots of arm motions and animated reenactments.

  “I didn’t let them cut my hair,” I said, trying not to sound testy. But seriously, why this story?

  Why? “They kept harassing me until I finally gave in. I just wanted them to shut up.”

  “It’s the power of peer pressure,” Malcolm agreed. “I think that’s the last time he listened to the two of us.” “And,” I added, “I was seven. Who doesn’t make stupid hair decisions when they’re seven?”

  “I didn’t,” Malcolm volunteered.

  Ash chimed in too. “My mother wanted me to get my hair permed, but I said no.”

  “Well, you’re both a pair of geniuses then,” I snapped.

  Ash giggled, holding her hands over her cup. “Maybe I should have let him get the French

  Vanilla.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Or decaf.”

  “So there’s five of you?” Ash sat up, looking between the two of us before centering on me.

  “And you’re the middle child.”

  I nodded. “Guilty.”

  “Not to be weird or anything, but you guys don’t look at all alike. You sure you’re related?”

  Mal slid in smoothly, the way he always did. “Adopted. Kind of a long story, but Justin and

  Jenna are the only two who are actually blood related. The rest of us are just siblings by choice.”

  “Huh,” she said, mulling that over. “Five kids, all the same age? That’s a little weird. Your house must be insane in the morning.”

  “With two sisters? Obviously,” Mal said with a laugh. He was the best liar out of all of us, so I let him take the lead. Wherever we went, we never really talked about our living arrangements.

  Most people assumed we lived together, and we let them think what they wanted. We didn’t have friends over or anything like that. “Especially Jenna. She’s a little high maintenance.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met Jenna. ‘High maintenance’ is being nice. So which one haven’t I met?”

  “Cole,” I said, jumping in. I didn’t want Mal completely dominating the conversation. The fact that he was still here was already annoying enough. But he didn’t need to completely hog the spotlight, either. “He’s the next oldest after me. And Bailey’s the baby.”

  “So Jenna’s older than you?” she asked. I nodded. “She probably never lets you forget it either.”

  Mal snickered. I set my cup down and grinned. “Something like that.”

  “Justin’s used to getting bossed around by girls,” Mal said. “Just in case you were wondering.”

  “Candidates with that quality move to the front of the line,” she grinned. “I’ll
have to make a note on your application.”

  “I don’t like this,” I said, waving my hand between the two of them. “The two of you together

  … nothing good will come of it. You’re both too evil.”

  Ash laughed. “Relax, Justin,” she said. Hearing my name on her lips was strange—I almost forgot she knew it. I’d gotten used to her strange nicknames. “Besides, Malcolm wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to torment.”

  “So Ash,” Mal began, his tone abruptly serious. “What’s the deal with that house that burned down.”

  “Seriously, Mal?” I snapped.

  He shrugged, unapologetic. “I’m just curious.”

  Ash was literally the last person I’d want to get involved in any of this. She was a bit off, and she took too much pleasure in teasing, but I would have liked to wait a bit longer before dropping the “my family is insane” bomb. Not that Jenna hadn’t already spoiled that a bit already.

  She looked between the two of us, her lips curving slowly into a smirk. “Something I should know?”

  “Justin thought it was a little freaky, that’s all,” Mal said, rolling his eyes. “He has nightmares.”

  “Wow, really? You’re the one who was obsessed,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me.

  “Oh, is that all?” She pulled her legs up onto her chair and watched us, half hidden by her knees. “You’re talking about the rec center, right? Not much to tell, I think. Some kids broke in one night, and one of them left a cigarette burning. My dad’s trying to raise money to rebuild, but it’s going to cost a lot, I guess.”

  “That’s all?” I could have punched Mal for sounding so obviously disappointed. Like Ash didn’t think we were weird enough. I was surprised she hadn’t edged her way out the door already.

  Or asked us if we were some kind of weirdo homeschoolers.

  “Is there supposed to be something else?”

  He shrugged. “It just looked like there was some graffiti on the door. I was just wondering.”

  “Okay, seriously, that’s enough,” I snapped. “Sorry,” I apologized to Ash, “he gets a little intense about fires. I think he wants to be a volunteer fireman or something.”

  “Or a pyromaniac,” Ash said. It took me a second to realize that she was kidding. “I hadn’t heard about any graffiti, but it’s possible, I guess. My dad might know. I could ask?”

  “No, that’s fine,” I replied, just as Mal chimed in with, “Would you?”

  I’m going to kill you later. I don’t know if Mal could read my thoughts or not, but he avoided looking at me and focused on Ash.

  “Anyway,” she said, turning to me. “You should give me your sister’s number. I figure I can introduce her to a few girls before school starts. Might make her feel better about moving in the middle of the year.”

  “Jenna?” I asked, completely caught off guard. Why would Ash want to hang out with Jenna?

  Jenna wouldn’t even want to hang out with Jenna.

  “The other sister,” she laughed. “Bailey? She who loves the puppies?”

  Oh. Of course. “I mean, yeah, that sounds nice. I’m sure Bailey would love it.” I tried not to sound too disappointed.

  But Ash saw through me anyway. “Relax, big brother. No need to go into another pout.” She climbed to her feet, and I leapt up to mirror her. “It was good to see you again, boy wonder, but I have places to go and minions to pester.”

  Should I walk her to the door? Or stay standing and really look like some kind of freak? What the hell was the matter with me?

  Ash wagged her empty coffee cup at me, and I took it automatically. She clasped her hand around mine, so cool and amused. “You can take care of that for me, right?”

  I nodded automatically, a warm rush running through my body at the touch of her hand on mine.

  Mal waited until she left to laugh. “You’re so whipped.”

  “And you’re a dick.” I waited long enough for Ash to get to her car or whatever, even though all I wanted to do was storm out of the coffee shop and go home. But I didn’t want her to see me all pissed off.

  Mal decided not to press the issue and waited with me in silence, breaking it only after we were on our way to the door and I was in the middle of tossing our coffee cups. “You’re not seriously going to throw that out, are you?”

  What the hell? “I’m not saving her cup just because she drank out of it. I’m not really the mouth breather you tried to make me out as.”

  I got the annoyed older-brother look that I hated. Usually, that look was reserved for Cole and Bailey when they acted out.

  “No, you idiot,” he said, pulling Ash’s cup out of my hand and twisting it around. At some point during our conversation, she’d written her name and number along the side.

  “Oh,” I said.

  Maybe Mal wasn’t a total buzzkill after all.

  Ten

  “Moonset may have been led by Sherrod, but each member had their strengths.

  They were smart. They collaborated.

  And their bond was unbreakable.

  They wanted to change the world.

  They succeeded.”

  Moonset: A Dark Legacy

  Quinn was downstairs by himself when Mal and I walked in a little later.

  “Where’s Jenna?” I asked, crossing into the kitchen.

  Quinn stood by the back door, staring out at only God knew what. Maybe the neighbor’s swing set was some kind of latent threat? Or he thought the single mom a few doors away was some kind of sympathizer.

  “She’ll be down in a moment.” Quinn looked over his shoulder. “You should get home, Mal.”

  Quinn never cared if Mal was here. Or any of us. As far as guardians went, he was a little lax in that department. I took a seat at the table. “What’s going on?”

  “Incoming,” Jenna announced as she strode into the kitchen. “It’s the Witch of Skankbird

  Pond again,” she said under her breath before she began checking her reflection in one of the hanging pots.

  Heavy footfalls started down the stairs as Meghan Virago swept into the kitchen. She was still wrapped up in a dark-green overcoat, her hair pulled back from her face. “The Congress has some questions for the two of you.” Her eyes skimmed over Mal. “You can see yourself out.”

  “Or I can stay,” he countered.

  “I thought we finished this already,” Quinn said in an icy tone. “They’ve been through enough already.”

  “Is this some kind of good cop, bad dye job thing?” Jenna asked. “Because honestly, I’d rather stick my head in the oven than deal with her again.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, darling.” Virago’s pinched face was a mask of smug superiority. “But does a trailer park even have ovens?”

  “Hey, back off,” I snapped, moving to stand in front of Jenna. More for Virago’s protection than Jenna’s, obviously. Jenna would tear her apart with one hand.

  “I’d be defensive, too,” the redhead cooed, “if I was the spitting image of a sociopath.”

  “That’s enough,” Quinn said firmly. He crossed the room and stood near the two of us. “If you have questions, ask them. But you’re not waltzing in here and poking them with sticks for the hell of it.”

  Jenna took one look around the room, and spun around on her heel. “Screw this,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  But she didn’t get more than one or two steps before Meghan’s voice clearly rang out. “Diana

  Bellamont.” Jenna’s mother’s name was like a talisman. Once invoked, Jenna’s feet were leaden on the floor.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” Meghan asked, pulling open one of the cutlery drawers and letting her fingers drift over the tools inside. “You act like twins. Tell people you are. But you’re not.

  Not really.” Her lips quirked up into another insolent smile.

  Even though I knew exactly what was coming, I didn’t interrupt. None of us did. There were a thousand different ways to wrap up Moonset’s crimes�
�a hundred different sins to tie up in a bow. We’d heard them all. Yet every time, it was as shameful as the first. Loathing held our tongues, kept our eyes lowered, and our shoulders stooped.

  As if a world full of crimes and horrors hadn’t been enough, there was the story of Jenna and me. She’d been born first, only a few hours before me. Both of us the children of Sherrod

  Daggett, the leader of Moonset. But only I, the legitimate child, bore his name.

  Jenna’s mother had been Sherrod’s mistress. He might have loved my mother—every account confirmed this as fact—but Diana Bellamont had been his dark soul mate. She matched him, sin for sin—the co-conspirator for all of Moonset’s darkest acts. In the end, I guess he couldn’t resist the temptation.

  “How galling do you think it was,” Meghan followed up, “when Diana gave birth before his wife?”

  Most people looked down on us because we were the children of Moonset. But some took special care to demean Jenna and me in particular. As if it mattered to any of them that my father had cheated on my mother. That we cared when they called us the “white trash twins” as if that was somehow worse than our bloodline.

  We bore the worst of it. Jenna and I were cut from the same cloth—thick dark hair, eyes so brown they were nearly black, and each the spitting image of our parents. In my case, Sherrod, and in hers a mix of the two. When we stood side by side, the resemblance was too strong to deny. It was obvious we were related.

  There’d been confusion back when we were first recovered. We looked too similar, and we were so close, that they assumed we really were twins. My mother had been tall and pale, blond-haired and green-eyed. I didn’t look a thing like her.

  As we got older, the resemblances grew more pronounced. It wasn’t as though I was

  Sherrod’s mirror image, but the resemblance was so strong it made people nervous. Another thing about my past I couldn’t help.

  “Is that everything?” Jenna said, emphasizing the boredom in her tone. “Everyone’s heard about Moonset’s dirty laundry.” But the words bothered her, I knew they did. They always bothered us.

  It was hard, knowing what my parents had been capable of. What they’d done. The legacy that had been left for the others and me. But still, on some level, I wanted to separate them. To split the Moonset side from the side that would have been Mom and Dad. Monsters can’t love, and everyone was agreed that the members of Moonset were monsters.