Insolita Luna

by M. J. O'Shea

  After dinner, the older cousins and their various guests went to an all-night bowling alley that was open most days of the year. We took over four lanes and filled the old place with pranks, arguments, loud chatter, and the occasional braying laugh. A few pitchers were ordered, and before Colin could butt his big dumb head in, I managed to sneak a pint glass or two. I didn’t mind being tipsy and a little faded out from near-constant insomnia. It was the first time I hadn’t thought of… it in weeks. I actually started to feel, if not exactly warm, then a little less cold. I wouldn’t say the beer made me happy, though. Sometimes it felt like I’d forgotten how to smile.

  Noah, who’d always been annoyingly perceptive, pulled me aside. I was significantly buzzed by that time and not ready for his probing questions.

  “Where’s Xan?” he asked. “I can’t remember a Thanksgiving here that I didn’t see him.” He had always come. We’d escape after the eating was done and play games until we’d both passed out on my bedroom floor.

  “He’s just not here.”

  Noah raised his eyebrows. “C’mon, Charlie. I know that face. There’s something going on here.”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Ch—”

  Zack came up from behind and put his arms around Noah’s waist. “Your turn, babe.”

  I’d never liked Zack more.

  “Okay.” Noah turned to go, but gave me a penetrating look. “You and I aren’t done here.”

  Oh yes we are.

  I WAITED until I knew no one’s eyes were on the main entrance and slipped out into the freezing night air. It was a few miles home, but I’d walked a lot farther before, and I just wanted to be alone. The walk through town was freezing and nearly silent. A few cars passed sluggishly, probably people on their way home from dinner, full and happy. I remembered feeling like that the year before.

  While I walked, I examined myself. I didn’t get why I was still so sad. Sure, it had hurt that Xan wasn’t really my friend, but it had been weeks. I wished I could say I wasn’t still hurt over that. But I was. There wasn’t anything else in my life to be sad about. I was going to graduate high school in January, my parents were going to introduce me to the business, and I’d have a whole new exciting life. Maybe once all that started, and I wasn’t stuck in high school and surrounded by my past, I’d feel better about losing my best friend—or rather, finding out I’d never really had one to begin with.

  That was the worst part. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured his face, all matter-of-fact and casual about how it was easier to protect me if we were close. Close—we had been. Almost like brothers; at least, that’s what I’d always believed. He was probably out there still, watching me, protecting me for whatever task the dryads needed me to perform.

  I was nearing my neighborhood when it happened. I’d been lost in space, still on the drunk side and thinking about my life and Xan when I turned and stepped off the curb to cross the street. I didn’t notice a car that had been coming, barreling way too fast for a residential area. The car’s horn squawked, and I looked up into blinding headlights. My heart raced. I froze. I couldn’t get out of the way. The car was going to run me over.

  Only that didn’t happen.

  I was picked up and whisked through the air, only to fall on the side of the road with Xan’s lanky body on top of me. I grunted.

  “Ow, Jesus. It might have hurt less if the car hit me. Are your bones made of steel?”

  Xan scrambled up and off me as the car screeched to a stop and the driver leapt out, face angry and red.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you, kid? You trying to land me in jail?”

  “He can’t see well at night and you were driving too fast. Why don’t you just get in your car and leave?” Xan said.

  The man looked at Xan for a moment as if he were going to keep arguing, then seemed to think better of it and got back in his car and took off.

  “Are you okay?” Xan’s face was filled with concern.

  It felt so good to have him back that I forgot we weren’t us anymore. For a second, at least. Then I remembered and I backed away from him warily.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. You did your job, and I’m going to go home.”

  Xan’s face tightened. “Charlie—”

  I held up my hand. “I’m not stupid. I know you still need to protect me. I understand it’s required, and I’m not going to stop you. But that’s all. No Xbox, no cookies, no sleepovers.

  “You were my best friend, the only friend I considered real. And then I found out it wasn’t real—I was just a duty to you. Maybe your people don’t have feelings, and maybe I’m just being a big baby, but it really fucking hurt, okay?”

  Xan didn’t answer. I assumed he had nothing to say.

  “Listen, I’m going to go. I know you have to follow me, but just—” I gestured for him to keep his distance. “Okay?”

  Xan nodded silently, and I shook off the adrenaline and the rest of my beer buzz and walked home.

  DECEMBER WASN’T much better—well, that’s not true. It was actually worse. Xan still wasn’t trying to talk to me, and the rest of my class friends shied away. I’m sure my face wasn’t encouraging. I walked through the halls with my head down, sat in class scribbling on the margins of my notes, and counted the days until I could get the hell out of there. I had less than a month. The worst part was, my parents kept bringing home college applications, one after another: Yale, Harvard, Columbia. I had a feeling Mom was trying to get out of what her and my father had promised me. It was BS, and there was no way I was going for it.

  By the time winter break rolled around and everyone else was planning parties and trips to the city, I was ready to escape—to sit in my room and lock the damn door so I didn’t have to think about my family, my future, or my ex-best-friend protector, whatever the hell he was. It was exhausting and I just wanted some rest. Christmas was a big deal in the Fitzgerald family, though, so I tried to suck up the attitude and help my mom wrap gifts, make cookies, and decorate the tree. I remembered loving all the decorating before, how I’d hoard cookies in my room for later to share with Xan when he came over after the formal celebrations were over and everyone was just sitting around talking. This year I didn’t even try to sneak one.

  I hated that it still hurt so bad. I hated that I’d spent the first months of school annoyed with him because he represented my boring past. I searched my memory for clues that he was so much more than he’d appeared. They were there, of course, now that I knew what to look for. I felt stupid for never seeing how special Xan was. I felt even stupider for still giving a damn that he’d been there all those years and wasn’t any longer.

  A FEW days before Christmas, I awoke in the middle of the pitch-black night to a knock on my window. My heart slammed in my chest. What the hell? I was torn between getting up and cowering in the corner of my bed. Great. Way to show you’re ready to be a hunter. I slunk out of bed and reached below it for my old little league bat. If some psycho was out there planning to kill me, then he’d better be ready for a surprise. I tiptoed closer and threw open my window, pulling my arms back to swing.

  It was Xan. He was perched in the branches of our oak tree.

  “What the hell are you doing here? I could’ve killed you.” I tried to keep my voice down, but Jesus, how stupid could he be?

  Xan rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t have killed me. Can I please come in? We need to talk and it’s freezing out here.”

  His dismissal stung, but at the same time, hope welled up in my chest. Xan hopped onto my desk, catlike, and then onto the hardwood floor. He barely made a sound. I closed my window as the first few flurries of snow dropped from the sky.

  It was nice to see him—as much as I wished it weren’t. His face looked reassuringly familiar, if not quite as friendly as I remembered, and his honey-blond hair and lanky body belonged in my room. I’d been wondering what felt off before—now I knew. Xan was supposed to be there. I needed to end my col
d war. I needed my best friend back. He had to feel the same way as me. He just had to.

  “Xan, I—”

  “Listen, Charlie, something happened last night. My mother sent me here to warn you and to tell you I need to stay closer.”

  “That’s the only reason you came?”

  Xan raised his eyebrow. “Why else? Listen, sit down. This isn’t a short story.”

  HE TOLD me about a lycan named Michael Komarov, about how Komarov had been powerful, part of the council, but then he betrayed his people, had hundreds of them killed, and took off just two nights before. Apparently Colin had been involved in trying to capture him, and Noah and the rest of their friends. Special for them. Of course, I was stuck in New Haven, clueless to it all.

  “Okay, so big bad lycan boss is on the run, and my brother and his friends tried to play paranormal bounty hunters, but clearly they suck at it. What the hell does this have to do with me, Xan?” The sarcasm was more than I’d intended, but that was always the way I’d dealt with being hurt.

  Xan sighed. “We can’t be sure, but our elders have suspected for years that Komarov is the lycan who massacred all those dryads. If he is, then you could be in danger.”

  “He knows about the prophecy?”

  “Probably not, but wouldn’t you rather be safe than dead?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Listen, Xan, if you were trying to come up with a reason to come over here…. I’ve been—”

  “Jesus, Charlie. Get over yourself! The whole world doesn’t revolve around your feelings.”

  Ouch. Wow. I tried to breathe, but it hurt. “Right. I guess it revolves around whether or not I die before I can kill the lycan who screwed you guys over. I’m guessing I won’t be the one having any babies who could do it.”

  Xan flopped back on my bed. He’d sat right next to me at the beginning of his story. I’d been busily trying to ignore how I noticed his presence. I wasn’t supposed to notice Xan like that—not when he was my best friend and sure as hell not now.

  “Can you please not be a pain in the ass about this, Charlie? I have to stay close to you.”

  God, he was annoying. “Fine. You wanna take the floor?”

  “Oh, come on! It’s freezing out here. You’ve never made me sleep on the floor.”

  He was right. I hadn’t. Whenever he’d spent the night, we usually ended up piled on my bed like puppies. It had never been a big thing or anything at all. All of a sudden it felt… well, like a thing. There was something unfamiliar about the new Xan. Something authoritative and strong, where before all I’d seen was sweet and goofy. Part of me hated the change, but another small part of me was interested. Still, I hesitated. “I guess it’s fine.” Xan hopped in my bed like he always had and wriggled under the covers. He stole my pillow too, and that bit of familiarity made me smile.

  “That pillow is mine, bitch. Here.” I tossed the other pillow at him.

  “I like this one better.”

  It was the same argument we’d had a million times. I yanked the pillow out from under his head and scooted under the covers myself. I hadn’t realized how cold it was until I was warm again. I hated that it was because he was back. But it was. Xan wiggled around and then dropped something heavy on the floor. I hadn’t noticed him carrying anything.

  “What was that?”

  He flopped onto his stomach. “Don’t ask.”

  “Of course.” I rolled my eyes in the dark. “I never get to ask.”

  GRADUATION CAME a week after break—with no fanfare and only a small family dinner. It felt weird, knowing that I was done with school, that I probably wouldn’t ever see any of my old classmates again. The world I was entering and the one I was leaving wouldn’t cross. That part I was excited about. I hadn’t pestered my parents about training, about taking me on jobs, but damn if I wasn’t going to get my way. I saw a few looks passed between my parents and Xan, but I didn’t examine them or ask any questions.

  Things between Xan and I were still strange. He was around more, to protect me from the unseen lycan threat, and we were polite to each other, but the comfort was gone. I couldn’t just ask him and expect him to tell me everything, like I would’ve before. Most nights he stayed over, unless there was something going on in the Forest—and even then he’d be back before dawn.

  I waited another week. Seven very long days from when I’d come home with my diploma to when I asked my parents when we were going to start the training they’d promised me. And that’s when they sat me down over Chinese food for a lovely chat—where they told me that they’d applied to NYU for me and I’d gotten in. Oh, and they’d already enrolled me in classes too. Is your mouth wide open? Mine was too. I didn’t even know that was legal.

  “You have got to be shitting me!” I thought that was a pretty reasonable reaction.

  “Charles Fitzgerald. Language!”

  “You just… just….”

  “We thought it was a better path for you, son,” my father said kindly. I’d always liked my dad, even if he was gone on jobs more often than not. At that moment I wanted to spear him through the heart with my chopstick.

  “A better path? What about the path I want?”

  “We both thought it would be safer for you to go to college, live a normal life.”

  “What, like be an accountant? A pencil pusher?”

  “You’d make a wonderful teacher, darling.”

  I grimaced. “What is so wrong with me wanting to do what every other damn person in this family does? Plus, what if someone or something comes after me and I’ve never learned to protect myself? NYU isn’t exactly out in the middle of nowhere. Quite the opposite.”

  Mom reached across for my hand. “Colin will be near. So will Noah and his friends. They can protect you.”

  “Control me you mean.”

  “Charlie….”

  “I’m not going there. If you guys want me out of the house, that’s fine. I’ll figure things out on my own, but I want to be a hunter. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not the limp-wristed princess you two seem to think I am.”

  I shoved back my chair and stood. I knew if I stomped off, I’d essentially be proving myself wrong, so I pushed my chair in with as much restraint as I had in me and walked quietly up to my room, where I buried my face in my pillow and lost it.

  After a few minutes of silent screams, I sat up and thought. What was I going to do? What was my next move? Xan was conspicuously absent. It would’ve been nice to have a sounding board. I had a feeling he’d been told what was coming at dinner, and either they asked him to not be there, or he chose the path of self-preservation. He was smart. I wanted to tear my room, and everything in it, into tiny pieces.

  I knew my parents cared. I did. That was the part that made it hard to hate them for being sneaky and trying to run my life. But it wasn’t hard to be mad—or to sit in my room and plan how to be sneaky myself. There had to be a way I could go about it on my own. Noah might help, but then he’d probably tell Colin, who would run his butt-kissing-better-than-everyone-else self right back to my parents to rat on me. That was a no-go. None of Noah’s friends knew me well enough, and they’d probably feel weird about going behind Colin’s back. Xan was out. He wasn’t a hunter anyway, and whatever dryad mission he was on would include keeping me out of danger rather than getting me closer to it. It was screwed. I needed my parents if I wanted to get trained.

  Of course, I could always do something first, show them I was capable, and then maybe they’d train me….

  Probably not my smartest idea. But I couldn’t see any other way. I decided to employ the tactic I’d used practically since birth, the one that helped me find out about hunting in the first place—invisibility. They always talked when they thought I wasn’t listening. Surely, I’d be able to find something.

  Chapter 7: Action

  MY INVISIBILITY plan took less time than I’d imagined to come through with valuable information. It was after dinner on the fourth night since they’d sprun
g NYU on me. I was supposed to be in my room watching TV, or packing for the dorms—which they knew I wasn’t doing—or some version of pretending the world didn’t exist. What I was doing was perching on the top of the stairs and listening as my mom and dad had coffee and a slice of cake before watching their favorite television show. I found that was the best time for dirt. Pay dirt in this case.

  “Colin called today,” my mother began. “He said there haven’t been any developments on the Komarov search.”

  Dad snorted. “Did they expect there to be? Komarov is a ghost. He’s gone. They’re never going to find him. Colin isn’t going after Komarov, is he?”

  “No. He was considering taking a contract from the lycan council, though, one to go after Silivasi and bring him the peace treaty the council drafted.”

  Dad choked on his coffee. “Silivasi, the werewolf? He’s just a myth.”

  “Apparently he’s very real, and Komarov tried to pin the lycan massacre on him. The council is terrified that he’ll act. Who knows what kind of forces he’s been building out there in the forest?”

  My dad’s chair scooted out. “I’m going to call Colin. This has the potential of turning into a big political mess between the lycans and the werewolves. I don’t want him to get involved.”

  Their voices were coming closer to the stairs. I stood quietly.