Under the Wicked Moon: A Novel

by Abe Moss

  Maria only vaguely noticed all of this as she went immediately to the bathroom mirror, leaned toward it as she pulled down her lower eyelid to get a look at the itching eye in question. It was red. Angry red. Someone might think she had pink-eye. Even now, that would be the reasonable assumption. But Maria knew there was nothing reasonable about it…

  “You need to be ready.”

  Maria nearly jabbed herself in the eye as she flinched. In the mirror she saw Harvey, standing behind her, naked as always.

  “They’ll know you’re coming for them soon. They’ll feel it.”

  Maria turned the faucet on and splashed some water in her itchy eye. “And what can I do about that?”

  “Just be ready, is all.”

  “You said you’d warn me.”

  “I’ll try. But the rest will be on you.”

  “Great.” She dried her face on the blue bath towel. She moved back to the mirror, looking at her eye one last time. “Any idea what they did to my eye?”

  She pulled her eyelid down, rolled her eye in the mirror. Red and irritated.

  “No.”

  “Sweet. Thanks.”

  When she was finished in front of the mirror, she opened the door and turned off the light. Jessup had returned to his bedroom, by the sounds of it. Packing. As she stepped into the hall, footsteps at the other end gave her pause.

  “Maria?” Angela asked softly. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

  Shit.

  She nodded timidly, and followed Jessup’s mother. This was it. She would have to explain herself. She looked over her shoulder once, toward Jessup’s bedroom where she wished to be.

  “Let’s sit in the kitchen together,” Angela said, and led the way there.

  Like the bathroom, the kitchen also had a theme of its own. Preparing for an uncomfortable talk, Maria made another compliment in an effort to earn some last-minute brownie points.

  “Wow… I like your kitchen…”

  “It’s fun, isn’t it?” Angela said, admiring her own décor. “I thought, why not try something different? I’d never seen a jungle-themed kitchen before.”

  And that’s what it was. Jungle themed. It seemed any and all houseplants were condensed into the kitchen—green and wild and everywhere. Wooden animals—a jaguar, frogs, a gorilla—were arranged on the walls. Monkey magnets covered both doors of the refrigerator.

  Angela sat at the kitchen table and motioned for Maria to sit with her.

  “Jessup’s told me about your trip,” she said. She looked kindly upon Maria as she spoke, adopting a soft tone. Understanding. “He told me you needed help with something important, and that he wanted to help you. I asked what it was about, but he said it was very personal to you.”

  Maria’s cheeks grew hot. “I know how it sounds—”

  “You’re in danger, aren’t you?” Angela asked. Her eyes probed Maria’s for the answer rather than waiting for a response. “You’re fighting something. Out there.” She nodded to indicate the general direction of the world, Maria supposed. “But you’re also fighting something in here.” She tapped her temple. “And here…” Her eyes fell along Maria’s face, her scarred throat, down to her chest, and Angela put her hand over her own heart. “Am I right?”

  It was such a general thing to say, Maria wasn’t sure there was any argument against it if she’d wanted to argue against it.

  “I guess…”

  “And you’re running from something,” Angela said, her voice full of sympathy. Her eyes lingered on Maria’s chest as she rubbed her own.

  Maria looked to the kitchen doorway, hoping—praying—Jessup would come through it to save her from his mother’s questioning. Kind as her voice was, cryptic as her words were, Maria found herself in a fidgety state. Heart hammering, throat dry, her eye still itched maddeningly but she avoided rubbing it for the time being.

  “I like to think I’m not an overprotective mother,” Angela said. “Jessup’s an adult now. I give him as much space as he needs, and he comes to me when he needs anything else. He won’t be in this house with me much longer, I know that. But I’m his mother, and I still worry. But… I also know he’s smart, and he’s always been a good judge of character. He sees something in you, and I trust he knows what he’s getting himself into.”

  Maria swallowed anxiously.

  “All I really have to ask is… do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  “Yes,” Maria said, but her voice was thin and frail.

  Angela, her gaze resting still on Maria’s booming heart, finally met Maria’s eyes again.

  “I understand what it is that you’re running from…”

  Maria didn’t know what to say.

  “Jessup’s father died when he was just little. My husband. I ran from the same thing you are now. It’s scary, I know. It was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. I felt so alone, even though Jessup was right there the whole time, going through the same things I was.” Angela placed her hand on the table, palm up. Hesitantly, Maria put her hand inside hers, and Angela’s fingers closed gently. “You’re not alone, Maria. Life goes on, and death goes on with it. Never one without the other.”

  Maria had no idea at all what Jessup’s mother was getting at, but she listened intently. Transfixed.

  “Your brother’s ready to move on,” Angela said, and a sudden shiver sent Maria squirming in her seat. Angela squeezed her hand. “But he’s waiting for you first.”

  Angela released her hand and Maria was left speechless.

  “Whatever you do, wherever you’re going… be careful.” Angela stood from the table with a pleased sigh and a stretch. “Jessup’s in his bedroom packing for your trip. Remind him to do the same.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “How was it?” Jessup asked as Maria returned to him, her eyes big and her face blanched.

  “Your mom’s…” Maria struggled finding the right word. “…really unique.”

  Jessup smirked as he shoved a change of clothes into his bag. “Told you.”

  Maria looked to his bed, where he’d dumped an assortment of things he was planning to bring. One in particular stood out to her. Her heart jolted at the sight of it.

  “What’s that?”

  Jessup knew right away what she referred to, as he picked up the gun without even asking what she meant.

  “Think they’ll survive something like this?” he asked.

  She felt nauseous as he passed the pistol from one hand to the other, examining it.

  “I hope not,” she said. She looked about his room, unable to look at the gun for more than a moment. “Can you shoot it?”

  “Of course,” Jessup said, and stuck it into his bag with his clothes. “Really well, actually.” He put a few more things into his bag—more first-aid supplies he’d scrounged from the bathroom while Maria was in the kitchen with his mother.

  “I was thinking,” Maria started, “that we’d head straight to my grandma’s. It’ll be close to morning by the time we get there. Maybe we can rest there for a bit…”

  “Does she know we’re coming?”

  Maria worried about that, but only slightly. She hadn’t called or spoken to her grandmother since the hospital, when she’d woken from that unforgettable nightmare.

  “No.”

  “Will she mind us showing up unannounced from an eight-hour drive?”

  “She’ll be ecstatic,” Maria said, though she had no idea, really. “Besides, if I called her and told her anything, even some excuse to visit… she’d call my parents. I know she would.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  It was earlier than Maria realized when they finally departed. The night was still in its infancy. With Jessup behind the wheel, Maria checked her phone for any messages and found she had none. A relief.

  “My GPS says we should be there before six,” Jessup said, and stuck his own phone in the drink holder between their seats. “And that’s not taking into account how fast I usually like to drive�
�”

  “So long as we get there in one piece,” Maria replied, wringing her hands in her lap.

  She looked to the night sky and found it mottled with clouds.

  In another ten minutes, they’d be on the interstate. In eight hours or less, they’d be in Wellwyn. With a hitch in her breath, she wondered if the witches would be returned there as well by now.

  Ready and waiting.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Carried away from the cities on long stretches of empty interstate between increasingly rural towns, the night slowly aged and Jessup began to yawn. In turn, so did Maria.

  “I’ll drive for a bit if you want to rest,” she told him.

  “I’m okay.” He put his hand to his mouth as he yawned as silently as he could. “Probably need to stop soon to fill up, anyway. I’ll get an energy drink or something when we do. Is your eye okay? You keep rubbing it.”

  “Yeah. Just tired…” Changing the subject, she asked him something that had been on her mind a fair amount anyway. “How old were you when your dad passed away?”

  Jessup said nothing at first. She could tell he was thinking.

  “I was nine,” he said. “He had a stroke and died in the hospital a couple days after.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He scratched his forehead idly. “It happens…”

  Maria watched him discreetly from the corner of her eye. He kept his eyes on the road, the lines whizzing by under the headlights. She couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation she’d had with his mother.

  “What all did you tell your mom, exactly? About what we’re doing, I mean…”

  He shrugged. “Just that I was helping you get somewhere, and it was important.”

  “You know we could both die tonight,” Maria said. It was a notion which was still dawning on her, little by little. Seeing Jessup’s gun on his bed before had helped speed up the process some. “You know that, right?”

  “Of course,” he said, and then he had the audacity to softly smile, as if to imply he was somehow all right with that.

  “But you didn’t tell your mom that.”

  “She always knows that.”

  Maria turned to him, staring confusedly. Doubtful, she looked out her window again where she spotted a billboard which indicated they would reach an exit soon with gas and other amenities.

  “What do you mean she always knows that?”

  “We can die any time,” Jessup said. “Any day I set foot outside, go to school, go to a friend’s… I could die on the way there. People do it every day. I don’t even have to leave the house to die. My dad’s proof of that. So… my mom knows. She doesn’t worry, and neither do I.”

  Maria gawked, both in amazement and bewilderment. You’re so fucking weird, she wanted to tell him, but couldn’t. Partially because she was too busy trying and failing to poke holes in what he said.

  “So you didn’t mention anything to her about… what happened to me…”

  “Nope.”

  “You didn’t mention my brother?”

  “Nope.”

  Jessup signaled to take the approaching exit, though no other car was around to see it. Down the slope of the exit, Maria saw the cluster of lit-up gas stations and convenience stores nearby, waiting for travelers like them. Travelers like her.

  Lost and pretending otherwise.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Here, let me pay for the gas…”

  “No, it’s fine,” Jessup insisted. “I can pay for my own gas.”

  Maria scowled as Jessup uncapped his gas tank and then removed his wallet.

  “I’m sure you can, but I want to help.”

  “You don’t need to. Don’t worry about it.”

  “All right, then let me drive for a while.”

  As Jessup picked the nozzle up and carried it to his car, he gave Maria a concerned look.

  “Is that a good idea? Your eye isn’t looking so great, and you keep rubbing it. Does it itch?”

  Maria sighed, irritated even though he was right. Truth was, it was starting to hurt. A dull twinge.

  “My eye is fine…”

  “I’d feel better if you just let me drive. And don’t worry about gas. I know you want to help, but so do I, and I like helping this way.”

  As Jessup filled the tank, Maria stared heatedly at the back of his head. The parking lot was deserted, one car parked at the storefront, likely the cashier inside. A thick blanket of cloud cover moved over them endlessly, blocking out the starry sky behind it.

  “Then let me buy us some drinks and snacks inside,” Maria offered. “You said you wanted an energy drink?”

  Jessup smiled appreciatively. “That would be great.”

  Inside, Maria made a quick trip to the restroom. She examined her eye in the mirror under the sterile, white fluorescent lights. Visibly, it was getting worse. Bloodshot. As she blinked with her face toward the mirror, she noticed her vision was even slightly blurry out of that eye.

  She stood back with a deep, dissatisfied growl. She noticed the naked man, then, standing in the shade of an open stall behind her. Always in bathrooms, she thought…

  “Let me guess,” she said. “They know we’re coming?”

  The handsome ghost of Harvey Samson frowned, and that was his only reply.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  A couple hours and three energy drinks later, Jessup continued to yawn behind the wheel. Maria watched him discreetly—the way his eyes appeared half-lidded at all times, the slow way he blinked them, the way he repeatedly sighed next to her, always followed by a yawn.

  “Those drinks didn’t do much,” Maria said. “You’re still falling asleep.”

  “I’m not falling asleep.”

  “You’re tired.”

  “Well, yeah… of course I am. It’s three in the morning.”

  She’d slept worse on previous nights, and yet she felt nowhere near as tired as he looked. She leaned her head against the passenger window, eyes on the sky. The clouds were thinning. It was getting windier—the car fought the occasional gust, Jessup keeping them centered in their lane. They’d finally entered desert territory—the landscape dark and desolate as ever.

  As she turned to Jessup again, she caught him picking his head up from an accidental nod.

  “Jessup,” she said sternly. “Pull over.”

  “I’m not falling asleep,” he said. “I feel fine…”

  “I just saw you dozing off! Pull the fucking car over already. Please.”

  “He doesn’t know what’s happening.”

  Maria turned and spotted Harvey, the dim light of the cloudy desert sky barely illuminating him in the backseat. Jessup didn’t react at all to the sound of his voice.

  “They’re getting closer,” Harvey said. “He’s under their spell.”

  “Why don’t I feel it?” Maria asked.

  “Huh?” Jessup said. He turned to her briefly, his eyes those of a drunkard.

  “They’re here,” Maria told him. “They’ve found us.” She turned to Harvey again. “How do I keep him awake?”

  “It’s the witch,” Harvey said. “Her concentration must be broken.”

  “Jessup, stay awake,” Maria demanded, as he nodded off again, chin drooping toward his chest, hands limp on the steering wheel. “Do you hear me?”

  Another gust of wind pressed against them, a loud whoosh, and the car veered to the side. The tires hummed over the rumble strip, loud and jarring, and still Jessup continued to close his eyes.

  “Jessup!”

  Maria grabbed the wheel just as the passenger window shattered beside her, sprinkling her lap with glass. She screamed. A face lowered into view of the window outside. Skin smooth and milky, unnaturally beautiful. A devilish grin on the woman’s pouted lips.

  “Jessup, please!”

  The witch reached in, grabbed her with her long-nailed fingers, and jerked her from the wheel. Maria yanked her arm back, out of the witch’s grasp. She slouched in her seat, getting her fee
t in the air, and kicked toward the window as the witch—Hiltrude, she now recognized—reached in for her a second time. The car jostled as it strayed from the road and into the bumpy dirt. Maria kicked again. Hiltrude grabbed her by the ankle. Quickly, mind scrambled with adrenaline, Maria stretched for her purse on the floor behind her seat. The witch tugged on her leg, dragging her through the window. Maria brought the purse with her, as her legs hung suspended outside. She reached into it, grabbed the first handle her fingers touched. With another violent tug, Hiltrude lifted her up off her seat and outside, bruising her shoulder against the inside of the car’s roof on her way out.

  Maria dangled in the witch’s grasp, blood rushing to her head, wind-blown hair in her face. Below them, the car rumbled down a dark slope off the side of the road, its red-hot taillights bobbing and jostling in its descent. Maria lifted her head to see the witch smiling down upon her.

  “Where’re you headed?” Hiltrude shouted over the wind. “You’re not coming to visit, are you?”

  Maria shook the weapon in her hand until the towel fell away, fluttered to the barren ground below, and revealed a large, thick kitchen knife underneath. Hiltrude’s starry-yellow eyes grew large, her humor fading. Wasting no time, Maria curled herself upward, abdominals straining, and lashed the knife against the witch’s wrist. Hiltrude gasped. Her hand opened.

  Fuck.

  Maria fell from the sky. She landed on her shoulder with a bone-cracking whoomp. A ragged wheeze escaped her, all the air in her lungs squeezed out. She rolled, sucking air. Her back and shoulder felt on fire. She turned her face to the sky in search of the witch but couldn’t find her.

  She gripped the knife in her hand. An involuntary whine escaped her as she got to her knees. Legs trembling like weeds in the wind, she stood. She swept hair from her face, searched the dusty dark for the car, but saw nothing. She jogged, wincing, toward the place she’d seen it headed. A downward slope beyond the road. She paused at the crest, peering down, and spotted the taillights. The car was stopped now, its treacherous journey interrupted by a thick cluster of sagebrush. The driver’s side door opened as she watched. Jessup stepped out of the car, staggering in the bushes. Maria started down toward him.