Rise of the Moon: Arcana Book One

by JB Caine

  “You don’t have to lose him. Not ever.”

  I turn my head slowly to look at her. She lays back and stares at the clouds moving across the night sky. I feel like there is something going on of which I am unaware.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell her.

  “We don’t really ever have to lose anyone. Don’t worry,” she smiles, and then in a blink, she is gone.

  The next morning, despite Treigh’s assurances that boys were generally just inconsiderate, and that Alex’s lack of communication hadn’t necessarily meant anything, I approached my English class with trepidation. I wasn’t sure if I should be mad at Alex, or just play it cool. As I walked into class, I scanned the room, somewhat relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. I dropped my bag on my desk, and plopped down, running several scripts in my head so I’d be prepared for anything he might say.

  When he finally did walk in, he made his way to his seat, then turned his eyes my way. When he saw me, his whole face lit up into a joyful smile, as if we’d been parted for weeks instead of days. He tossed his books down and rushed toward me to get a few words in before the tardy bell.

  “Hey! Wow, you look great!” He grabbed my clenched hands in his and bent to kiss my knuckles.

  “Uh, hi. You too.” My eloquence knows no bounds.

  “Listen, what are you doing after school? Want to go for a drive?” He seemed so eager, so happy to see me. So why no text all weekend? This made no sense.

  “I, uh, I don’t know if I can, I mean maybe.”

  “Okay, well, I have to get to my seat. We’ll talk about it after class, okay?” He grinned, and I was glad I was sitting, because a look like that would have crippled my knees in a second. I nodded and gave what I thought was a confused smile, but may have looked more like a grimace. He kissed my fingers again and got back to his seat just in time for the tardy bell.

  WHAT. WAS. HAPPENING?

  Rather than focusing on English, I spent the entire period thinking and overthinking about how I would broach the subject of why I hadn’t heard from him. I was far less angry now, and far less insecure about his feelings after our date. But I was thoroughly confused, and I had to understand his actions.

  I decided the direct approach was best, so when he met me after class, I punched him in the arm. “How come I didn’t hear from you all weekend?”

  He looked confused. “What? I...um...I don’t know…”

  “You don’t know? Were you super busy or something?”

  “Well, no, I mean, I worked and stuff but not till noon. Was I supposed to call you?”

  I hadn’t expected that. “I, uh, I guess you didn’t say you would or anything, but I just thought you’d have texted me at some point.”

  He looked at me and seemed genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry I upset you. I honestly just didn’t think to do it. I’m a jerk. Can you forgive me?” His eyes took on a mischievous sparkle as he asked the last part.

  I sighed. “Yes, of course. But you are a jerk. I thought maybe you decided you didn’t like me or something.” I looked up at him with a playful pout.

  “Impossible,” he assured me. He slipped his arm around me as we walked toward my next class. “In fact, I spent all of last period thinking about us going to Trina’s party together. As a couple. That kind of together.”

  And just like that, I forgot my entire weekend full of angst.

  I stared at myself in the full-length mirror, pleased with the result. The deep blue velvet was form-fitting in all the right places, and flowing everywhere else. The rich tone against my fair skin made me glow like moonlight against the night sky--exactly the intended effect. The earrings from the consignment store glittered against my jawline and the crescent moon pendant, simple and silver, against my chest. Using the glamour Selene had taught me, I deepened the blackness of my hair and darkened my irises to the color of dark chocolate. I had become the Moon herself. I felt the power of the night flowing through me.

  But most people would probably assume I was Morticia Addams.

  I was okay with that, too.

  It was a little hard to maintain that powerful feeling as I was sitting in my room waiting for Alex to come pick me up. Nerves took over as the minutes ticked by. He was late. Fifteen minutes, twenty… the post-first-date emotional roller coaster threatened to swallow me up again.

  And then, from my bedroom window, I watched his car pull up in front of the house. Twenty-seven minutes late. He stepped out of his car casually, looking around my neighborhood as if he weren’t entirely sure what to do next. He made his way up the front walk, and then I lost sight of him. It seemed like an eternity later when I finally heard the bell and my mom opening the door to let him in.

  A short conversation that sounded quite a lot like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon ensued, and then Mom called up the stairs. “Lia! Alex is here!” I shook off my irritation at his tardiness and prepared for my grand entrance.

  I stood at the top of the stairs and spotted him as he waited at the base of the steps. Well, sort of waited. Actually, he was staring out the etched-glass sidelight, looking back toward his car. Again I was flooded with disappointment. Why wasn’t he looking sheepishly up the stairs, sorry for being late and anxiously awaiting my appearance? I had run this scene through my head a hundred times in the last 28 and a half minutes, and in no version of my fantasy was he looking out the sidelight window. Not one.

  I cleared my throat meaningfully and he turned to face me as I descended. His semi-blank expression slowly turned to awe as I came into full view, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open just a little. The look on his face at that moment erased the negativity of the moments that had led up to it.

  Plus, I finally got a good look at his costume, and my heart skipped a beat. The dark slacks and white shirt were part of his normal wardrobe, I was pretty sure, but he had topped it off with a thin black cape (I had seen that exact cape as part of the vampire collection at the party store earlier) and a white mask that covered the right side of his face.

  The Phantom of the Opera. Good gravy. I could barely contain my compulsion to swoon.

  “I really like your costume. I love Phantom,” I blurted out.

  His eyes were still as big as dinner plates. “You look...like...whoa.”

  I grinned. “Thanks.”

  After an awkward moment, my mother swooped in to break the silence. “Alright, you two! Picture time!” After a few shots on both her phone and mine, my mother wished us a happy and safe party, with a directive to be home by 1:00 a.m. I hugged and air-kissed her, and then Alex ushered me to the car.

  Trina’s party was somewhat standard fare as high school parties went. There were maybe 30 or so guests, and the crepe paper decor was festive, but forgettable. There was a food table with the usual chips and cookies and cupcakes with spiders drawn on them with purple icing, still sitting snugly in their plastic grocery store box. There were canned sodas and a punchbowl with a gooey green drink thick with bobbing scoops of lime sherbet. I was pretty sure someone would have added an extra ingredient or two to that by now. I didn’t trust it.

  The costumes ranged from cartoony to gory and everything in between. Scary clowns and superheroes danced to a weird mix of hip hop, pop, rap, and country music. Peals of laughter and yelling echoed through the neighborhood. Trina’s parents had set out a tent in the front yard where the adults congregated with their own stash of snacks and greeted trick-or-treaters.

  We had been there maybe a half hour when Gemma swept in, a swirl of bangles and skirts, followed mutely by a grouchy-looking Scott Montgomery sporting a green tee shirt with a pillow wedged in across his shoulder blades, the Quasimodo to her sparkling Esmerelda.

  “Oh, look at you two! The Phantom and Christine? Did you plan this? Alex, I thought you said yesterday that you weren’t sure what you were going to be?”

  Alex looked uncomfortable. “Um, yeah...it just sort of came together. But I must have been vibing off of Lia! I mean, how
perfect is it that we just HAPPENED to coordinate? Must’ve been meant to be!” He brightened at this realization, and it was only then that I realized he hadn’t actually asked me what my costume was. I loved that I blended with his costume, but he hadn’t thought of me as Christine until just this moment. It was just enough that I looked pretty. I felt like I should be vaguely offended. He had also asked me out a week ago, and yet hadn’t given his costume a moment’s thought until today.

  The imbalance in Alex’s feelings nagged at the back of my mind. Every time we were together, he was focused, attentive, charming, even affectionate. But in between, I always felt like a footnote. As if reading my doubts, he stepped closer and slid his arm around me. Gemma raised a well-manicured eyebrow and fidgeted with her ring. Scott just stood there looking miserable.

  “Huh. Well, that’s really sweet.” Her voice betrayed her. The tone was somewhere between confusion and irritation.

  “OMIGOD, GEMMMAAA!” Trina came bouncing out of the kitchen in a short-skirted Cinderella costume. “You guys are so cuuuute!” Gemma turned her attention to the hostess/princess and rewarded her with a dazzling smile.

  “Oh, look at you! What happens to that outfit at midnight?”

  Trina giggled. “At midnight, my gown transforms into a fuzzy, footed penguin onesie and all the guests go home.”

  That elicited a laugh out of the group of us, and Trina grabbed Gemma’s arm and dragged her back toward the kitchen. “You have to see this cake my mom baked…” Poor put-upon Scott sighed and shrugged his padded shoulders and followed after her.

  “Hang in there, man,” Alex called after him. “It’s just one night!”

  “That poor guy. I wonder how she roped him into that. He looks like he’d rather have dental surgery.”

  Alex chuckled. “Gemma has a way of convincing people that they should do what she wants.” He paused in thought. “I guess it’s probably a good thing she’s a basically nice person.”

  “Agreed.”

  A commotion at the door commanded our attention. It flew open, revealing Treigh in all his glory with a designer suit and an armful of roses. A cry of greeting rose up from around the room, and he stood in the doorframe surveying the group of us.

  “The party may now begin,” he quipped, and began working his way through the crowd, bestowing roses on cooing girls and stoic boys. I noticed he lingered a little over the rose presentation to Michael Catellan, who smiled shyly at the attention. I made a mental note to get the scoop on that later. By the time Treigh made his way around to us, he had three roses left, two of which he handed directly to me.

  “I’d give you one, Alex dear, but if you are half a man, you’d be giving it to this glorious vision of a woman anyway, so I’m just saving you a step. Lia, my queen, you take my breath away.” He wiggled his finger, willing me to spin for him so he could see the full effect of my outfit. I did so, and his appreciative nod reflected genuine approval.

  “You wear that suit like Ralph Lauren had you in mind all along,” I said, and meant it. He really did look impressive.

  “Who’s to say he didn’t? Thank you, darling. How’s the party?”

  “Better now that you’re here. But it’s fine. Alex and I have just sort of been making the social rounds. You should see Gemma and her date. Scott Montgomery looks like he wants to flee.”

  “Poor bastard. She really has him wrapped around her finger.” We all laughed, and Treigh excused himself to head for the food table.

  “He really is the smoothest guy in history, isn’t he?” Alex observed.

  “None better,” I agreed, as I watched Treigh sniff at the unimpressive spread and head for the kitchen to see what other goodies Trina might be keeping hidden.

  “So listen,” Alex began, “I mean, the party’s cool and everything, but I just had an idea. Would you maybe want to bug out of here in a few minutes and go join one of my family’s ghost tours? It’s bound to be quite a show tonight, and I think you’d really like it.”

  My heart thudded against my chest. “Are you kidding me? I’d LOVE it!”

  He looked genuinely pleased. “Okay, so let’s hang around another 20 minutes so we don’t look like we’re just ditching the party, and then we’ll go catch the 10:00 tour. Is that cool?”

  “Ridiculously cool. I’m so excited!”

  Chapter 15

  I was literally hopping with excitement as we stood outside Alex’s family’s ghost tour office. Living in St. Augustine, there was no way not to know the lore of various establishments in town, and Alex had regaled me with a few of the stories he knew on our very first date. I had always been fascinated by the stories, and my mom had taken me on a trolley ghost adventure tour when I turned 13, but somehow this seemed like a very different opportunity.

  It was a walking tour, so I was pretty glad I had opted for ballet flats instead of the stilettos I had considered wearing. I thought I was wearing them for dancing purposes, but this was infinitely better.

  We strolled down St. George’s Street, and the guide talked to us about the Colombia restaurant. We turned left down Cuna, a beautiful street lined with quaint pubs and bed and breakfasts. Even though there were maybe twenty people in the tour group, I felt as though Alex and I were walking alone through the dark and tree-lined streets. There was nothing ghostly about it, really, but it was romantic.

  As we made our way down Cordova and past the Tolamato Cemetery, the stories ran to murder, mayhem, and mischief, and they were really more entertaining in a macabre way than scary. We turned onto Orange and the tour guide stopped outside the St. George Inn, regaling us with stories about a body-part burial mound from an 18th century British hospital. This particular story was new to me, but I couldn’t seem to focus. My attention kept wandering across the street to the Huguenot Cemetery. I couldn’t stop staring at a segment of the wall near a pair of oak trees.

  The trees themselves were dripping with Spanish moss, and as cemeteries went, this one looked relatively unremarkable. Still, there was something…

  From behind one of the trees, I caught a flicker of movement in the moonlight...someone was behind the tree...watching. Just watching.

  I couldn’t explain it, but I began to have a sense of desperation. I had to know who it was that was watching us. Curiosity was the wrong word...I felt compelled. I let go of Alex’s hand and bolted across Orange toward the trees. I could hear Alex calling me, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn back.

  I skidded to a stop next to the oak tree and was staring into the pale face of a girl a few years younger than I was. She stared at me with a mix of shock and fear, but she didn’t move.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  She didn’t answer, she just pointed at the City Gate down the street.

  “Are you lost? Do you need help?”

  She shook her head and began to weep silently into her hands. She raised her tear-streaked face to look at me, and pointed at the Gate again. I heard Alex’s voice behind me, calling my name, and his footsteps jogging toward me. I couldn’t look away from the crying girl, so clearly heartbroken and afraid.

  “Let’s get you somewhere safe,” I said. “This city can get kind of weird at night.” I reached out for her arm to guide her back to the inn, or maybe to the tour office. Alex stepped up behind me.

  “Lia, what the heck...why did you run away like that?”

  “Alex, this girl clearly needs help!” I glared over my shoulder at his apparent callousness in the presence of the traumatized child.

  “What girl?”

  “What do you mean ‘what girl’? This--” I stopped mid-sentence. I was reaching out for thin air, and there was no girl to be seen. I thought to look for her, but I knew somehow that I would not find her, not even a glimpse of her white gown.

  We sat on the tiny beach attached to Lighthouse Park and stared out at the Salt Run, a small inlet between St. Augustine and Conch Island. The moon was very bright and the air was thick with magic. I wasn’t sure
what kind of magic...moon magic or just your run-of-the-mill romantic magic. Maybe a little of both.

  “That was really something tonight,” Alex said, testing the waters. “You really didn’t know the story about the unnamed girl buried in Huguenot Cemetery?”

  “No...look, I’m really sorry if I freaked you out. Can we write it off to it being Halloween?”

  “If you want. But you don’t have anything to apologize for. People react to those tours differently. Most just sort of see it as simple entertainment, but to some people, it’s a lot more than that. Seems you’re one of those people.”

  “I guess. But I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of weirdo.” Cageyness was not something I often suffered from, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for Alex to know about what had been happening with me for the last few weeks.

  “You can be a weirdo, as long as you’re MY weirdo.” He pulled me close, and I wasn’t sure if the shiver I felt was the autumn cool or something much deeper. I wanted to believe this moment was real, but his hot-and-cold behavior was still pulling at the edges of my mind, filling me with doubt.

  “I love that you’re saying that, Alex, but what about tomorrow?”

  “What do you mean? What about tomorrow?”

  “I just mean that, if tomorrow runs true to form, this beautiful moment, this incredible night...well, tomorrow I won’t know what it all means. Whenever we’re together, you make me feel like I’m the most important person in the world. But as soon as I’m out of your sight, I’m out of your mind.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would you say that?”

  “Because, Alex, when we aren’t together, I never hear from you. No calls, no texts, nothing.”

  He stiffened a little and his arm around me loosened. “Funny. I don’t remember getting any calls or texts from you either.” His voice was hurt, defensive.