Full Moon

by W. J. May

  Jammed between him and the Mustang, I had nowhere to go. My hands curled into fists and rose by my neck, trying to protect it. Was he going to strangle me right in the school parking lot?

  Instead, he stepped back again, pulling one hand back like I’d burned him. He swiped at my throat with the hand still in the air.

  He’s trying to grab my necklace. I clutched the pendant, worried he’d lean in and rip it off.

  Instead, he kept his distance, but the venom in his voice couldn’t be missed. “So help me, Rouge. If you ever come near me again, I’ll destroy you. I know exactly what their kind are. And I’m not alone. More know. Lots more.” He snorted, pointing at me. “Yeah, you tell your precious Michael that. Let him know we’re going to annihilate him.” He turned and ran off into the darkness.

  He’s definitely crazy. I couldn’t move. I’d forgotten how to breathe. My brain told my body to walk back to the gym, to get there as fast as I could, but I stood frozen, clasping the pendant protectively in my hand.

  “You okay? What’s taking so long?” Michael walked around the front of the car.

  I jumped. Dazed, I stared at him. What had Damon meant about Michael’s kind. “I, um, left Sarah’s shawl on top of the car and came out to get it. D-Damon stopped by…” my voice trailed off.

  “What?” Michael swung around, doing a three sixty. “Where’d he go?”

  “I dunno.” I raised my hand and twirled my fingers and then snapped. “One moment he was here and the next, gone.” I stared into the darkness where Damon had disappeared.

  “Let’s get outta here.” He unlocked the car doors.

  I blinked, trying to focus. “We can’t just leave Grace.” Damon could go after her.

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “No. You wait here and I’ll ask Simon to drive Grace home.” I needed a moment to catch my breath and my nerves.

  “I can – never mind.” He shook his head. “Go. I’ll make sure Damon’s sorry ass isn’t poking around.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I sprinted off to the gym. My wobbly legs needed to run out the adrenalin stuck inside them.

  Grace wasn’t hard to spot on the dance floor. She looked like she’d been expecting me. Simon seemed to be dancing on his own.

  “Do you mind driving Grace home?” I asked him.

  He replied before Grace had a chance. “Love to! What kind of Ken would I be?”

  Grace shook her head, looking directly at me. “What’d he want?”

  Did she mean Damon? I hadn’t mentioned a thing. I swallowed. Damon had taken off in the other direction. He wouldn’t come back tonight. “Michael and I just want to hang out.”

  Simon put his hand up for a high five, which I slapped, not understanding why.

  “You go, girl!”

  “You’re still sleeping over, right?” Grace asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you back at the house.” I gave her a hug and went to meet Michael waiting in the car.

  We sat in silence as Michael drove. Staring absently out the window, I tried to figure out Damon’s weird behavior. Maybe he was on drugs. Maybe he had something wrong with the processes in his brain. The lack of cars and streetlights stopped my train of thought. A bluish hue covered everything from the bright night sky. “Where’re we going?”

  “We have a cabin by the lake. I figured we could hang out there for a bit.” He let his foot off the gas. “That doesn’t sound right at all. We hit a Tim Horton’s.”

  “Should I be scared?” I teased. “You’re taking me to a hidden cabin in the woods and next week will I be the front headlines in all the national papers?”

  “Ha-ha.” He laughed sarcastically. “The place is like fifteen minutes away. I just thought it’d be easy to talk there. I go when I want some peace and quiet.”

  “Then let’s go. We’re almost there now.” I trusted Michael and I had a few questions myself.

  He flipped the blinker on and headed onto the exit. “It’s just a couple miles down the road from here.”

  Ten minutes later he pulled onto a gravel lane. He drove the car easily through the dark forest. A cabin stood in the distance with a glass lake stretching behind it. The cabin was the kind you saw in those country magazines. Modern, with a vintage look but absolutely gorgeous. Michael, still in his Spartacus outfit and oblivious to the cool air, opened the door and switched lights on as I followed him in.

  Simple shades of beige colored the walls, mixed in with wood and brown leather furniture. My gaze caught on the six tall windows facing the lake. The lack of style inside the cabin disappeared by staring out those windows.

  “I’ll get a fire going.” He opened a brass ornately decorated box and started to toss the wood into the brick fireplace. He had the logs snapping and flames dancing in moments.

  Taking my hand, he pulled me over to the couch.

  My legs barely touched the leather, and he leaned in to kiss me.

  I returned with frantic kisses while his hands roamed down my back, his fingers finding their way to rest along the spaces between my ribs, his nails scraping against my shirt. Everywhere he touched shocks of longing started on my skin and ran through my blood to my heart. I swear I was going to explode.

  Groaning, Michael gently, but firmly, pushed me away. I didn’t want to stop, he tasted like I needed more of him. I leaned in to fill the space between us. The fire’s reflection danced against his bare shoulders.

  “Rouge,” he whispered, “we need to talk. If you keep doing this, we’re not going to get anywhere.”

  “I really don’t have anything important to say.” If we talked, something would change. Don’t know why I knew it, but I did. Couldn’t I just have this moment -- for like ten minutes?

  “Rouge.” The warning tone in his voice made me straighten and watch him. He was right. We needed to talk.

  Michael stared into the fire, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands together. He sat quiet, both of us trying to catch our breath.

  Finally, he sighed. “What did Damon want?”

  I shrugged. “He doesn’t like your family much.”

  Michael sat rigid. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “It was stupid. Total loser. He acted all worried about Simon. Then he looked at me like I scared him.” I paused, waiting for Michael to stop clenching and unclenching his hands. “The guy's psycho. I thought he was going to steal the necklace.”

  Michael inhaled and exhaled loudly, his nostrils flaring.

  Something about Damon’s comments gnawed at me. I tapped a finger against the top of my knee, not sure if I should ask Michael or just ignore Damon’s useless babble. Honesty or nothing. I took a deep breath. “He said he knows what you are. What the heck’s he talking about? Is Caleb part of some sort of mafia?”

  Michael snickered then covered his mouth. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Trying to picture Caleb eating spaghetti like some TV mafia-guy...” He shook his head. “If you knew Caleb, you’d get it.” He moved, and shifted me as well, so we sat facing each other. He took my hands and rested them on his knees, laying his on top.

  More strange talk. Maybe there was something wrong with the water here. I pulled a hand out of Michael's and touched the pendant. “What is this necklace?”

  Ignoring my question, Michael stared at the window behind me. “Damon knows what the pendant stands for. He knows who we are.” He removed his hands from mine and began picking his perfectly clean fingernails.

  Why the sudden nervousness? “What?” I’d get answers tonight, if I had to shake them out of him. “Whose necklace is this?”

  “Mine,” he whispered, not looking up.

  I slid the pendant along the chain. Not really a surprise, is it? “What’s inside?”

  “Blood…my human blood.”

  Wha-? I didn’t expect that as a reply. The pendant dropped with a clunk against my chest. “If it’s you’re blood, why wouldn’t it be human?”

  Michael rubbed his face. “It
’s complicated. Grace has one as well. We all do. It’s called a Siorghra.”

  “Siar—a what?” Crazy alert -- again. Get out of the cabin and start running through the forest. Nah, you know what happens in horror movies. I ignored my own warning, too curious about the necklace and what Michael might say. I held my tongue, waiting for Michael to wrestle with whatever demons he was fighting and explain what on earth he was talking about.

  “The Siorghra was created as a link. It’s Gaelic, a term for eternal love. Sarah and Caleb wear each others. Once on, it can never come off.”

  I reached for the pendant. I’d be wearing this for the rest of my life? “What! Never?”

  “I didn’t put it on you, so it can be taken off.” Michael sighed. “I meant it won’t fall off or be broken unless specific things happen.”

  “Like what?”

  “I have to put it on you, it’s my blood.”

  Freaky—but kind of romantic at the same time. “You’re sister’s pretty gutsy.”

  “Yeah, she likes pushing me when she can.” He chuckled and relaxed. They obviously had sibling affection I’d never experienced.

  “Is this something Caleb’s family created?”

  “In a way.”

  I hated how he was answering my questions with bits and pieces. Sighing, I blew the bangs away from my forehead. “What’s going on? You want to talk, but you’re not really telling me anything.”

  Michael pushed off the couch and began pacing in front of the fire. His costume clinked and sparkled against the flickering light. I kind of hoped it would irritate him and he’d pull the top off. He paced back and forth about ten times. Just when I was about to suggest we head back, he began talking.

  “That—” He pointed to the pendant on my neck “—is the last bit of me that still holds life.”

  “What?”

  He stopped pacing. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  Ah, double crapper. I didn’t know what was going on, but after seeing that beast a few months back nothing would seem unbelievable. “You acted all scared about the book I got, but then got ticked when I asked if you were one of those Grawlics.” I started laughing, the nervousness inside of me escaping.

  “Grollics,” he corrected. “I’m not one. We are in no way related. But… we are the same in a sense.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was.” He sat down beside me.

  The sadness in his eyes tore little bits off my heart. “What’re you trying to tell me?”

  He stared at the necklace. His eyes were bright blue against the reflection of the fire, almost aqua-green in color. “I’m not like you...anymore.”

  I couldn’t get my head around this conversation. “It doesn’t make any sense. You said this is your blood.”

  His eyes closed. “Grace and I, we were…like you… about a hundred and forty years ago. The man I knew as my father wasn’t my… my biological father. Grace and I never knew.”

  This was jacked up. “What happened?”

  “Our…My mother was raped before she married my father. On the day of their wedding, just before they took their vows. She never told us, we learned about it after her death.”

  My mouth fell open. “That’s awful.” What a secret to carry. “Maybe your dad really was your father.” I felt I was grasping at straws. “You know, fifty-fifty chance.”

  “No,” he spoke sharply. “Mother was raped by someone you could never imagine.”

  “What do you mean?” I couldn’t believe I was actually having this conversation, and believing it.

  “You know those Greek mythology stories about the gods coming down and having children with humans?”

  My eyes grew huge. “You’re the son of Zeus?”

  “No.” He shook his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Shit! I’m screwing everything up. I was trying to use it as a comparison. The Greeks used these folklore stories because they are partially true, they just got the heavenly participants mixed up.” He waited, obviously wanting me to guess.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “You’re a soul returned back to earth. Or, you’re living some reincarnated life?”

  “No. I’m part…” He began pacing again.

  Something clicked in the back of my mind. “Angel?”

  “Sort of.” He threw his hands in the air. “This is so hard to explain. Grace used to joke about angels, saying we were distant third cousins, once removed.”

  “An angel raped your mother?” That didn’t make sense. Impossible.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but not all angels are good. They come from both ends of the spectrum. We’re not angels. My mother was not an angel. We still don’t know the entire process or what exactly created us. We think it may have something to do with fallen ones but aren’t completely sure. One thing for sure, Caleb is different than us.”

  “Caleb’s one, too?” This was unbelievable.

  “We all are. Sarah found Grace and me. She met Caleb later and they gave each other their Siorghra.” He tapped his head, as if trying to knock out a noise.

  I thought about how similar Sarah, Grace and Michael looked with their tanned skin. Except Caleb’s so… so dark. Well, he was pale, but he seemed… I didn’t know. Maybe he came from the bad guys. The only thing he had in common was –“You all have blue eyes.” So they’re some kind of immortal.

  Michael’s brows went up in surprise. “Grace and I had brown. They turned blue when we died.”

  “What? Dead?” I rubbed the heel of my palm against my forehead. “Slow down a bit. I think I’m missing something here.”

  He sighed. “Grace and I didn’t know until we were killed.”

  Killed?

  Chapter 8

  “What?” My back burned near my left shoulder blade. I reached behind and rubbed the muscles. Could this conversation get any stranger? Was I actually starting to believe him?

  “That’s the worst thing about being one of us, being a slightly Nephilim. You don’t know until you’re dead.”

  “Nympho?” Wait. That didn’t sound right. My cheeks went hot.

  Michael laughed. “I’m not a nymphomaniac – at least, I don’t think so. We’re sort of Nephilim. Fallen angels. Only a small, tiny part, we’re also something else.” He paused. “It’s really complicated.”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What could I say?

  “You know, I’ve never told anyone.” He swallowed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Caleb’s going to peel a layer of skin off me when he finds out I’ve told you.”

  “That’s horrible!” Caleb was a monster, probably related to the Grollics.

  “Not literally. He’s just going to be pissed.”

  I stood, feeling the need to get my bearings. Everything felt backwards. I rolled my shoulders trying to get the burning muscles on my left side to relax. “This is way too much.” I rubbed my eyes, not caring if my makeup smudged.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. The world’s complicated enough and I just threw more confusion into it.” Michael checked his watch. “It’s getting late. I guess we should probably head back to the house.” He pulled his ear. “Sheesh! Grace won’t let up. She wants to know where we are and if everything’s all right.”

  “Say what?”

  He chuckled, breaking the intensity of the moment. “Might as well spill it all. It’s different between Grace and me. We’re twins, born and killed at the same time. Caleb’s never seen it before. And he’s seen a lot.

  I basically filed most of what he said into my brain to try and think about later. I stuck to the basics. “So, you can read her mind because of it?”

  “Sort of. Grace and I are kind of unique - like talking on the phone without the phone. We can tune each other out whenever we want. I can’t read Grace’s private thoughts anymore than she can read mine.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, I giggled. “I got a feeling you tune her out a lot more than
she does you.”

  “A little.” He smiled, his eyes flashing.

  “Why do you all have the exact same eye color?”

  Michael glanced at the pendant around my neck. “Caleb figures when we die, our blood loses its oxygen. Blood turns blue without oxygen.”

  Like our veins. “You don’t age? If you’ve been around for a hundred and forty years and Caleb’s been around for, like, forever…”

  “You remain the age you were at the time of your death.”

  “But you and Grace are so young.”

  “Long story.” He checked his watch again. “Too long to get into tonight.”

  I planted my legs and crossed my arms. This was way too fascinating to have him just tell me a little and say it’s time to go. “I’m not finished. I have more questions.” I hadn’t even started to scratch the surface. “What’s with Caleb?”

  Michael began pushing the logs around in the fire with a cast iron stick, trying to get it to die down. “He’s an original of the Coven.”

  “Coven?” I sounded like a parrot. It sounded like some vampire story. Next he’d be telling me they existed as well.

  “Kind of like royalty…original bloodlines. That’s another very complicated story. There are not many of his kind. He’s extremely powerful and much respected in our world. No one crosses him. He’s monumental to all of us.” Michael shook his head, his hair falling forward. “We really need to get back to the house. I didn’t take my phone and Caleb’s bugging Grace now.”

  “Fine.” I grabbed my shawl off the couch. “We’ll go, but you’re driving slowly. I have a million questions.”

  Michael smiled. “I’ve a feeling they’re never going to end.” He killed the fire and we left.

  My brain wouldn’t stop humming as we drove. “If you and Grace were together when you… when you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “Did Caleb find you after?”

  Michael focused on the road, his tanned knuckles white as he squeezed the wheel. “Sarah found us. We had no idea what was happening, but she knew.” He was silent for a moment, either concentrating on the stop light, or reliving what happened. He cleared his throat. “Caleb met Sarah a bunch of years later, after she’d adopted us. He saw her and immediately gave her his Siorghra. She did the same without question. They were simply drawn to each other. Caleb had been alone before he met her. She was his first.”