Waxing Moon

by Sarah E Stevens

  “With no thanks to you, I’m absolutely fine.”

  “What happened?”

  I almost demanded she explain herself first, but decided she needed to know about Salamander. He might lurk around even now. I quenched my anger and told her everything.

  “Is he still around?” I asked. At her look, I clarified, “The Salamander. Do you still smell him?”

  “No.”

  “Then again, I guess you didn’t smell him earlier, or else you wouldn’t have run off like that.”

  Eliza didn’t say anything. She didn’t even apologize. Instead, I sensed…something. My own shoulders tensed further in reaction to the strained way she held herself, as if curled inward around something painful.

  I spoke first when it became clear she didn’t intend to enlighten me.

  “Did you?” I cleared my throat, thankful for a steadier voice—I wasn’t sure if it had been shaking in anger or fear. Both, perhaps. “Did you figure out where he went? The Were?”

  “What?” Eliza wrenched her attention from the darkness long enough to hear what I said. “No. Tim’s right. The track and scent are muddied in the road.”

  “Is he a strong Were? Can you tell?”

  “Yes.” The sound was clipped.

  “What about the Salamanders?”

  “What?”

  I wanted to smack her. “Earth to Eliza. What did you learn about the Salamanders?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” My voice rose several octaves, and at last, Eliza looked at me.

  “Nothing new. You learned more than I did. Tim’s right, I traced three primary scents, maybe an older one. I’ll recognize them next time.” She spoke with exaggerated precision, as if talking to a three year old, and I flinched at the sudden hurt caused by her tone.

  Eliza didn’t seem to feel snubbed, but sat like stone as I drove us back to Sheila’s house, taking a very roundabout route and looking behind us after every turn.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning dawned too early, considering I got to sleep around midnight. Carson woke up around three a.m. and then fought sleep for an hour before catnapping until six, when I gave up and brought him into the kitchen. I was trying to figure out how to work Sheila’s super-duper fancy coffeemaker when she walked in.

  “How the hell do you manage to look so chipper?” I grumbled.

  Sheila winked at me and deftly took over with the coffee beans. “Practice, young apprentice.”

  “And what the hell is that?”

  “Why that, dear Jules, is called a highchair. Used for babies and toddlers.”

  “Gee, thanks. What is this so-called highchair doing in your kitchen?”

  “Well, right now, it’s serving as a chair—a high chair—for yonder baby, what’s his name, young Carson, I believe.”

  I threw the kitchen towel at her and she laughed. “I went out last night and bought it, Jules. So you don’t have to perch Carson on your lap all the time. As his favorite auntie, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t scalded by black coffee and his morning-grumpy mama.”

  “We’re not moving in here, you know.”

  “Hmm. Actually, you are, you know. Moving in here.” Sheila held up a hand. “At least for a while. Your place is obviously wrecked and I’m not sending you to some hotel. You’ll stay here until we figure out what’s going on and what you’re going to do next.”

  I sank down in a kitchen chair.

  “I need coffee,” I moaned. “I can’t argue with you without coffee.”

  “Ah-ha! I’ll remember that.” Sheila snagged me a mug and let the coffee brew directly into it, then delivered the mug with a flourish.

  “You’re not supposed to do that, you know. Let the coffee drip into the cup. All the caffeine comes out first or something.” I peered into the dark brew. “Then again, never mind.”

  I took a quick sip, scalding my mouth slightly in that oh-so-pleasurable-first-coffee-of-the-morning way. Carson pounded on the highchair tray with a spoon and shrieked. Happily, I think.

  Sheila fixed herself a cup of Earl Grey tea and allowed me to imbibe my drug of choice for a while without further comment.

  “Are you sure you have room for us here? Me and Carson, plus Eliza—your townhouse is getting crowded quickly,” I said.

  “I think we’ll be fine. You and Carson can have the office for as long as you want and Eliza will be comfortable curled up in wolf form. Besides, if we need extra space, we could always use Don’s house.”

  “Don from your department?”

  “He and his wife are away until the fifteenth, and I’m watering their plants. I really do think we’ll all be fine here, though,” Sheila said. She frowned then continued. “So what’s up with Eliza? She hardly said a word after you two got back last night, even in the face of Tim’s questions. And his disapproval. I’ve never seen anyone stonewall him like that.”

  I refilled my mug. “I don’t know. After she went haring off after the scents at my house, she became very…withdrawn. Just stressed, I guess. Maybe she’s upset at herself for leaving me with a Salamander lurking about.”

  “Well, I’m upset about it. Makes sense she would be,” said Sheila.

  “Yeah, me too. I still don’t understand why she didn’t scent him. He couldn’t have been far away. She really hates Salamanders.” I frowned and thought for a minute. “Hate might not be the right word. They disgust her. I think she’s upset any Were would ally with them. That’s probably worse than our rogue trying to kill me, in her book.”

  Sheila gave a wry laugh. “She’s going to love Tim’s news, then.”

  “What’s Tim’s news?” Eliza spoke from the doorway and both Sheila and I swiveled in her direction. I plastered a pleasant look on my face and mentally rewound the conversation before shrugging it off.

  “Well, good morning, sunshine. Aren’t we a bunch of early risers?” Sheila drawled and crossed the kitchen to hand Eliza a coffee cup.

  “What’s Tim’s news, Sheila?” I asked.

  “Hmm. He’ll be down soon, I’m sure. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.” She refused to say any more, answering further questions with lifted eyebrows and an amused shake of the head.

  ****

  Tim didn’t waste time. As he crossed to get his own fill of morning caffeine—thus answering the question about why non-coffee-drinking Sheila owned a fancy coffeemaker, top class beans, and a grinder I couldn’t operate—he tossed the news over his shoulder at the table.

  “There’s a new addition to our team arriving this afternoon with the council’s blessing. The Salamanders are sending one of their own to help investigate.” Tim turned around with his coffee. His eyes focused unerringly on Eliza.

  I paused with spoon in midair, resuming the task of feeding Carson when he banged his little fists on the tray in protest over the rice cereal hovering just out of reach. Two spoonfuls later, Eliza still stared at Tim with narrowed eyes.

  “Well, sounds reasonable to me,” I volunteered. “Takes a Salamander to catch a Salamander.”

  “More than that,” said Tim. “The gesture’s meant to show this group is rogue. Their actions aren’t sanctioned by the leadership.”

  Eliza’s mouth was set in a thin line. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t care if you like it.” Tim took out a box of cereal from the cabinet and filled his bowl. “You can’t handle it? Then feel free to go back to Greybull right now. I know your pack full wants you here to help protect Julie and Carson, but the council can dispatch other Weres if needed.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Good, then. We’re all in agreement. I don’t want any tension on my team.”

  I sucked in a quick breath at his choice of pronoun and Eliza straightened in her chair. She didn’t challenge his statement, though, only nodded once.

  “So.” I glanced between the two of them before deciding it was safe to continue. “I thought the Salamanders
weren’t organized into packs, or uh, slimes or anything? But they have some sort of central authority to send people around?”

  “Slimes?” repeated Sheila.

  “You know, a pod of dolphins, a murder of crows, a slime of Salamanders?”

  Sheila’s laughter cut through the remaining tension and even Eliza grinned. Tim’s deep chuckle caused Sheila to lean into his side, one arm around his waist. His arm circled her shoulders and pulled her tight.

  “I’ve heard of a lounge of lizards, but a slime of Salamanders? That’s good,” Sheila said.

  “Is it really a lounge of lizards?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “So what is a group of Salamanders called?”

  Tim shrugged. “Just a group of Salamanders, I guess. You can ask our Salamander, later.”

  “Our Salamander? Goddamn firebugs.” Eliza muttered at a careful pitch, loud enough to hear, but soft enough Tim could choose to ignore it.

  But he didn’t.

  “None of that, Eliza,” he said, sharply. “No ‘firebug’ talk.”

  Eliza pushed away from the table and rose to her full height, making it quite apparent she topped Tim by about an inch. The hair rose on the back of my neck and I held my breath as the air in the room seemed to crackle.

  Abruptly, she wheeled on one foot like a ballet dancer and left, slamming the back door behind her.

  I flinched at the sound and held myself rigid as tears sprang into my eyes for no reason. No reason at all. Just a loud noise. Ridiculous that I wanted to jump up and flee. There was nothing to run from.

  Tim exhaled, slowly. “She’ll calm down, once she’s adjusted to the idea. She seems a little on edge.” He frowned.

  Sheila nodded and pulled away from Tim long enough to hand him the milk from the fridge. She then crossed to me and rested one hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re going to be okay, too, Jules.”

  I cleared my throat. “Of course. I’m fine, Sheila.”

  I busied myself with feeding Carson the rest of his cereal and then washed him off, since he ended up with as much cereal on his clothes and face and arms and hair as in his belly. Bibs were useless with my boy.

  “So,” Sheila said, brightly. “Want to go to the shooting range, Jules?”

  ****

  I’d always been fairly anti-gun. But then again, I was also anti-letting people kill me or my son. After I discovered some things going bump in the night were actually real, I’d decided I better learn how to shoot a gun. I had one lucky shot in Las Vegas—a shot that saved Tim’s life—and I still had nightmares about the man I killed. But after a lot of soul searching, I came down on the side of better him than me or mine.

  Upon our return to southern Oregon, Sheila brought me to the shooting range once or twice a week and taught me the rudiments of gun handling. Sheila was a crack shot. She had three older brothers, one of whom was a cop, and she grew up in a hunting family in Idaho—a background that didn’t match her diva personality, but there it was.

  Sheila and I spent a chunk of the morning shooting at targets. Soon, I started to relax and actually felt like it helped my stress level. Sheila outshot me, as she always did.

  “I hope Eliza’s back,” I said, as we got back into the car to go home.

  “She probably ran off some steam and is home making up to Tim,” said Sheila.

  “Oooh, making up to Tim?” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

  Sheila snorted. “As if.”

  “Just kidding.”

  “Well, obviously.” Sheila gave me a funny look and I shrugged.

  ****

  Eliza and Tim did seem to have ironed out things in our absence. They were in the living room: Tim on the sofa reading a book and Eliza stretched on the floor playing with Carson. Carson looked overdue for a nap, so I carried him upstairs, nursed him, and tucked him in. When I reemerged, the gang had assembled in the kitchen and Sheila was cutting coffeecake.

  “Coffeecake?” I asked.

  Eliza shrugged in the middle of pulling her hair back in a ponytail. “I made coffeecake. When I got back from my run.”

  “You…” I covered my confusion by taking a piece. “Thanks, looks good.”

  Sheila—bless her soul—had made another pot of coffee, so we all helped ourselves to elevenses.

  “I think we should go back to the site as soon as possible, fan out in a pattern and search for any further signs of our enemies,” said Tim.

  Eliza nodded. “Agreed.”

  “I’ll stay here and look through my spell books for something to combat fire. I wouldn’t be much help with the tracking,” said Sheila. Her granny Emma had left her forty-odd volumes of journals from the Martin family Witches. In the last months, I’d helped her get through the first five journals, organizing the spells into an electronic database searchable by category and ingredient. The amount of material we’d gotten through was paltry at best and we kept getting sidetracked with family stories, gossip, witchy politics, and odd bits of information. Sheila practiced her witchcraft a lot more after our adventure in Las Vegas and had a number of handy spells at the ready, but protection from flames hadn’t been high on our priority list.

  “Carson won’t wake up for another hour or two, so…” I trailed off. I didn’t want him staying here without at least one Were to guard him, but I knew the search would go quicker with both Eliza and Tim there.

  A knock on the front door interrupted our planning session. Tim raised his head and drew in a deep breath through his nose.

  “Our Salamander’s here. Earlier than expected.”

  Eliza’s face wrinkled in distaste.

  We all followed Sheila into the living room, Eliza bringing up the rear.

  “Welcome,” said Sheila, as she pulled open the door. “I’m Sheila Martin, hostess and resident Witch.”

  “Tim Rogers, council investigator and head of this team.” I watched as Tim drew the mantle of authority across his mild face.

  The Salamander stepped through the door. He was lanky with spiky strawberry-blond hair and an enormous smile.

  “Hi, I’m Julie Hall. Uh, the one who almost got killed.”

  “I’m Newt.” He held out his freckled hand to each of us in turn, eyebrows raised as if waiting for it.

  “Newt the…” I stopped myself, barely.

  His blue eyes crinkled up. “Yep, Newt the Salamander.”

  I stifled a giggle. Even Eliza, who stood stiffly at my side, quirked her mouth to one side before tightening her lips once more.

  “Nice to meet you, Newt,” I managed.

  “Oh, come on. Go ahead, you’re going to lose it sooner or later. My sister’s name is Sally.”

  At that, I dissolved into a snort, then gave up the fight and laughed wholeheartedly. Newt joined me, his freckles catching sunlight through the window, and his blue eyes shining. Sheila leaned against the door as she closed it, giggling under her breath.

  After a few moments, I wiped my eyes and said, “Really? Your sister’s name is Sally?”

  He nodded. “My parents’ strange sense of humor.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I know a family with kids named Harbor, Piers, and Ocean—their parents are really into sailing—but…well. Sally and Newt. I think I’d like to meet your parents.”

  “They were pretty funny.”

  I noted the past tense and wasn’t sure what to say next.

  Newt didn’t miss a beat, but broke into another sunny smile and walked toward Eliza. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He held out his hand.

  “Eliza Minuet.” I wasn’t sure if I imagined the hesitation before they shook. “Full moon Were from Julie and Carson’s pack. Here to protect them from…their enemies.” Eliza’s smile looked fierce and bared too many teeth, more like a threat.

  “Not our pack,” I interjected without thought. When everyone turned to me, I flushed, but continued. “That is, we’re not officially part of Eliza’s pack. I’m a dark moon, not a Were. And
Carson isn’t part of a pack right now.”

  Was that a growl? I glanced at Eliza. I’d imagined it. I think.

  “You need pack to protect you.” Eliza enunciated every syllable, her gaze locked on Newt as if to clarify why she thought we might need protection.

  “Regroup, folks. Focus,” said Tim.

  “Okay.” Newt glanced around the room, his cheerfulness not squelched by any apparent tensions. “Where’s the strong baby wolf and what’s the status here?”

  We settled awkwardly around Sheila’s living room, silently negotiating placement. Sheila and Tim claimed the sage green couch, while Newt sat on the matching armchair and stretched out his long legs. After a moment, I perched on the rocking chair. Eliza sank cross-legged on the floor beside me. She somehow exuded the air of indolent lounging while simultaneously acting like a guard dog. I took the opportunity to study Newt. He didn’t look at all amphibian, but neither had the Salamander last night—that one had looked as much like a hipster as anything else. Neither of them looked anything like fire, which was good, because I’d been worried even our Salamander ally would trigger something in me. If I had seen him in a coffee shop, I would have given him a big smile and remembered nothing more than the cheerful sparkle in his eyes, like sunlight off water. And his freckles. Those would be hard to forget.

  “We were just discussing how to divide responsibilities for the next few hours. Sheila will stay here to work on some spells and Carson is napping.” Tim glanced between Newt and Eliza. “I think Newt and I should go to the site of the fire and widen our search net, while Eliza stays here to watch—”

  “I’m going. That is.” Eliza paused and brushed her hands on her jeans, getting rid of imaginary dirt. “Tim, I would like to go to the site, if you don’t mind staying here with Sheila, Carson, and Julie.”

  “You want to go with Newt?”

  Eliza nodded decisively. “Yes.”

  “I’d like to go, too,” I said. “Carson will be okay for a couple of hours with both of you watching him. You don’t mind, do you Sheila?”

  “Of course not. I dote on him,” she assured me with a wink.

  Tim walked over to the front window and stood there for several minutes, looking out.