Christmas Moon

by J. R. Rain

  I kept myself busy serving dinner, so busy that everyone forgot that I hadn't actually eaten. I would eat later tonight, with Kingsley. A rather nontraditional holiday meal, you could say.

  With dinner over and dessert being served, I thought it best to step outside and get some fresh air. I excused myself, patting Kingsley's meaty thigh. He was deep in a conversation with, of all people, my ex-husband. Two attorneys talking shop.

  Blech.

  My house is small, but I have a big yard. I followed a curving, cement path that led from my front door to my garage, a path I had sprinted across many times during the heat of the day, each time gasping for breath and sometimes literally thinking I couldn't take another step. But I did it each and every day to pick up my kids from school.

  A small price to pay.

  The sun had long ago set. I felt strong and clear-headed. Cars were parked seemingly randomly outside my house. I lived in a narrow cul-de-sac, and parking here was always a challenge. Especially for Kingsley, who was a surprisingly bad parker. Even now, his black Escalade barely touching the curb, with most of the rear end blocking my driveway.

  Pathetic. I expected more from an immortal with decades of driving experience.

  I slipped my hands into my coat pocket and looked up into the evening sky. This would have been a good night for flying. Clear, cool skies, with Christmas tree lights sparkling far below. In fact, maybe I would try to get up tonight. Maybe fly out to see Kingsley later.

  Maybe.

  As I stepped out from behind the comically-parked Cadillac, I saw him standing there in the middle of the street, watching me.

  Ishmael.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once again, I gasped.

  "I didn't mean to startle you, Samantha. "

  "You have a way of doing that. "

  "Sometimes, I forget how easily humans startle. Humans. . . and vampires. "

  "I'm not human?"

  "You haven't been human for many years, Sam. "

  "I feel human. "

  "Do you feel human when you're soaring above the earth?"

  He stepped closer to me, hands clasped behind his back. To my eyes he seemed a little taller than I remembered.

  He nodded. "I am taller, Sam. I am whatever I choose to be. "

  Glowing particles of light swarmed around him. . . and disappeared into him. He was a being unlike anything I had ever seen. And to be clear, I've seen some weird shit.

  But as he drew closer, walking casually with his hands behind his back, his movements so fluid and smooth that he appeared to be walking on air, I saw something else. Intermixed within the light particles were darker particles. The darker particles were new to me. . . and alarming. Never had I seen anything so black. Worse, the dark particles seemed to contaminate the light, spreading like a disease.

  "A disease?" he said, nodding thoughtfully. "An interesting choice of words, since you yourself often call the darkness living within you a disease. "

  "There is no darkness in me. "

  Ishmael threw back his head and laughed, and it was the first time he had expressed real emotion. His first seeming loss of control. Everything prior to that, every move, every word, had seemed almost rehearsed.

  "What do you think keeps you alive, Samantha Moon? What do you think you feed each and every time you consume blood? You're feeding the thing that lives within you. "

  "I am still me. "

  "Or so you think. "

  "I want you to leave. "

  He continued to approach me, continued his slow glide over the street tarmac. "You know so little, my dear. But I can show you so much. I can reveal it all to you. I can help you fight that which lives within you, that which is slowly consuming you. "

  Now he stood before me and, son of a bitch, he was even taller than just a few seconds before. By at least another six inches. Surely, he was taller now than even Kingsley.

  I must be dreaming, I thought.

  "You're not dreaming, Sam. "

  "Get the hell out of my head. "

  "I'm afraid I can't do that. "

  "Why?"

  He reached out and touched me, running his fingers under my chin, lifting my face up to his. I shivered. His touch was hot. Almost superheated. "I don't want to get out of your head. Your thoughts are the only place I have sanctuary. "

  "I know what you are, and I'm telling you to leave me alone. "

  "Oh? And what am I, Sam?"

  "A demon. "

  I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. He thought he could see me, but for the first time I was seeing him. He was lost, just as I felt lost sometimes. He had needs and desires, just as I did, and on this night, in the middle of this street, his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was in love with me.

  Could demons love? I didn't know, but I doubted it.

  "Demon is such an ugly word, Sam. "

  "Then what are you?"

  "I said it was ugly, I didn't say it was inaccurate. "

  I shuddered. The blackness swirled around him like black worms, weaving in and out of the light. "You look different. "

  "I am different. I gave up much to be with you, Sam. "

  "And you took much from me. "

  "I gave you immortality. "

  "You stole my humanity. You abused your power in the name of love. Or what you think of as love. You have put a curse on me that will never be fully released. You put me in danger and my own children in danger. "

  He laughed. "Your own immortality saved your boy from an agonizing death. "

  "If I had known that my immortality would be the only thing that would save my child, yes, I would have begged you to allow me to be attacked. To allow me to become what I am. But you can't claim responsibility for a twist of fate. "

  Then again, maybe he could. I was in uncharted territory here. How much of the future did Ishmael know? Had he known that my son would acquire a terminal disease? I didn't know. Truth was, I didn't know what watchers were capable of and not capable of. But I knew something about free will, and I suspected Ishmael was pulling my strings like a puppet master. He was a person, a being, who had abused his influence.

  "No," he said, reading my thoughts. "A person in love. "

  "You turned me into a monster," I said.

  "Not a monster, Sam. An immortal. And the darkness that lives within you can be controlled. I can show you how. I can show you so many things. "

  "You could show me how? You could show me many things? Your love is conditional. Your love is not real. Whatever illusion you have about you and me ends tonight. You were given an amazing gift by the Almighty and you squandered it over illusions of love. You might have been able to read my thoughts, but you lacked something. Subtext. Hearing my thoughts isn't the same as experiencing my heart. Because if you ever had, you would have never done what you did to me on that night seven years ago. "

  "You have it all wrong, Sam. It was your destiny to become that which you are. I only helped. . . facilitate the process. "

  "I don't believe you. "

  "Believe what you will. But we are destined to be together, Samantha Moon. And when you are done playing with your dog, Kingsley, I will return for you. "

  And what happened next challenged my sanity. The solid man who had been standing before me, faded from view, and the particles of light that had been swarming around him winked out of existence, too.

  I was left standing alone in the street.

  Chapter Eighteen

 

  I was flying over Orange County.

  The wind was cold, but my thick hide kept me comfortable. I was above a smattering of clouds, and far below, Christmas lights twinkled endlessly. From up here, it was very obvious that Californians were very much into the Christmas spirit.

  I angled a little higher, caught a powerful jetstream, and was hurled along at a glorious rate. My thick, leathery wings were s
tretched taut, and a part of me wanted to just keep on flying, endlessly, to continuously trail behind the setting sun, to live in perpetual darkness forever.

  A guardian angel had professed his love for me. I suspected it was a misguided love. I suspected he was already well on his way to the dark side, that he had only used me to help facilitate the process. Whatever that process was.

  And yet. . .

  And yet, I felt his love for me. It had been real. I had seen it in his eyes, and heard it in his voice.

  You can't fake love.

  Or can you?

  Yet, he could have gone about it a thousand different ways, a thousand better ways. Any of which would have gotten a better response from me.

  We are destined to be together, he had said.

  The San Gabriel Mountains appeared in the north, and I followed the contour of the ridge-line, rising and falling with the peaks and valleys, just a few feet above the pines and snow-covered cornices. Yes, even southern California gets snow, four thousand feet up.

  I suspected that Ishmael had to break his connection to me, whatever that connection was. I suspected that, as my watcher, he was bound to me as my guardian.

  But once I became immortal, all bets were off.

  I angled up, followed a mountainous ridge, and when the ridge dropped away, I kept angling up, flapping my wings harder and harder. Up I went, surging through vaporous clouds, blinded, until finally I broke through.

  Above me was the half moon, shining brilliantly. I flew toward it, higher and higher, until ice crystals formed on my wings, until all oxygen disappeared in the air.

  And there I hovered, briefly, at the far edges of our atmosphere, pondering destiny, until finally I tucked in my own wings and dove down, speeding through the night, faster than I had ever flown before. . .

  After all, Christmas was over and I had a killer to find.

  The End