Killer Moon

by Hermione Stark

  “You have to think about it,” I say urgently. “Think hard while it’s still fresh. You have to find those memories India because if you don’t—”

  “You think I’m not trying?” she says, her voice rising in frustration.

  “I’ve been where you are. Being told something horrible happened, but only finding a black emptiness in your head every time you try to remember. That emptiness was so frightening. It repelled me. I was too scared to touch it. Too scared to think of it. And so I didn’t think of it. In time I stopped feeling its presence in my mind so much. I got used to it. Don’t get used to it India, or you will never know.”

  “I’ll never know what happened?” she says in despair.

  “And it will haunt you forever. So you have to keep trying.”

  “What happened to you?” she says.

  I shake my head, still not wanting to think of it. I don’t want to talk about it. And yet I must, because I need to help her. Her life could depend on it. How is she supposed to know who is after her if she can’t remember his face? How is she supposed to protect herself from the monster who killed her best friend and tried to kill her?

  Even so, my words come out painfully and reluctantly. “My adoptive mother died in a car crash. I was in the car. I survived, but I have no memory of it. No memory of anything about my life before that. People thought I did it. They said I had always made trouble. Always acted out.”

  India nods. “Me too,” she says.

  “They said it was my fault. They said I killed her.”

  India looks stricken. “What did they do?”

  “I had to go and live with her sister, my adoptive aunt, and she hated me. She said I did it too. And I could never defend myself. Not really. Because I couldn’t remember. I know I can’t have done it. I know it. But how can I know that really if I don’t remember?” My voice trails off.

  “And your memories never came back?” she says in a frightened tone. She is looking at me hopefully, like I might say otherwise.

  I shake my head. “They never came back.”

  “So you have to live with never knowing,” she says dully.

  “That doesn’t have to happen to you. Not if you try your best to remember.”

  I don’t know if I want this so badly for her or for me. Because if she can do it, maybe it is not too late for me.

  When she speaks it sounds like she is in pain. “I heard that Detective Zael guy shouting in the hallway. He said they found me with a knife in my hand. He said Rachel’s blood was all over me.”

  I nod, unable to deny it. She needs the truth. Not cover ups.

  “What if it was me?” she says in anguish. “What if I did do it? What if I killed Rachel?”

  I hold her hand and squeeze it. “You loved Rachel. You wanted her to be happy. You can’t torment yourself like this.”

  “But I’m a werewolf. I’m a monster. My whole life they’ve been telling me that I’m going to hurt someone. And what if I’ve hurt Rachel? I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

  “India, I believe that you didn’t hurt Rachel.”

  “How can you believe it when I don’t even believe it?” she asks frantically. “And they don’t believe it either — your Agency friends and that detective. Why else have they left guards outside my room? It’s to stop me from escaping because they think I‘m a killer!”

  “Maybe DI Zael’s,” I admit. “But the Agency officer is here to protect you. To protect you, India. From the man that did this to you. You have to try and remember who it was.”

  “But I’m telling you it might have been me,” she says in a horribly distraught voice, her face twisted with horror and grief, tears pouring down her cheeks. “What if it was me?”

  I take hold of both of her hands and they are trembling violently. “Why would you kill her?” I ask earnestly. “Can you give me even one reason why you would want to kill her?”

  She shakes her head vehemently. “I would never hurt Rachel. Never. But I don’t know what I did. I don’t know. What if I’m a monster and I don’t know?”

  A noise in the hallway draws her attention and she looks towards the door, her eyes wide as if she thinks someone is about to come in and arrest her. Her gaze fixes on it. She stiffens.

  I turn towards it, and through the glass I see a young man trying to get into the room. The Agency officer is blocking his way. The young man is insistent, trying to push the officer aside. He looks through the glass and sees India on the bed. He raps the glass, calling her name.

  India’s heart rate monitor machine starts beeping rapidly. Her face is pale. She is shaking. The Agency officer seizes hold of the young man and hustles him away. India looks relieved. The monitor stops beeping.

  “Who was that?” I ask. “Do you know him?”

  “It’s Charlie,” she says.

  Her boyfriend. She had wanted to see him. She’d said they were happy. But now that he was here she was horrified. And scared.

  I go over to the door and I pull the blinds down over the window in case Charlie comes back.

  “Don’t worry. The officers won’t let him in.”

  She nods anxiously. Her fingers are twisting in her lap again.

  “Why were you scared?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know anything. I’m just… Tired. I don’t want to see anyone yet.”

  I have sat down in my chair again, but then I stand back up. This is my chance to speak to Charlie before he goes. “I’ll be just a minute,” I say, turning towards the door.

  She grabs my hand, afraid that I will let him in. “I only want to talk to him,” I say.

  “Please don’t leave me alone,” she says. “Please don’t go.”

  She has a haunted and frantic look in her eyes. Unable to say no to her, I sit back down. When she is sure that I won’t leave she lays down and closes her eyes, but her hands are still twisting over and over.

  “It’s okay,” I say softly. “None of this is your fault. Rest now.”

  I don’t know if this is aimed at her or at myself. I wonder if India’s werewolf is a little voice inside her head too. I wonder what it says to her and whether she’s spent years fighting it. My little voice had used me. She had taken all my years of fear and turned it into her rage. She wanted to do terrible things. I fear that if I take my amulet off she may want them again.

  It is a long time until India’s hands relax and I know she has dropped off into sleep. I stay, watching her and twisting my amulet on the chain around my neck over and over.

  It could easily be me in that bed instead of her. Alone, with no family to turn to. Unable to remember. Not knowing whether there’s a monster inside her or not. Scared of it and what it might do. I wonder if this is what I sensed when she came into Grimshaw’s the other day. I wonder if that is what made me feel a sense of kinship with her. I wonder if it is clouding my judgment.

  I text Theo to let him know that I don’t think I can come into work in the afternoon today. I need to figure out a way to help India. He texts back to say that is fine.

  I lay my head back against my chair. I might as well rest while I wait for India to wake up again. I yawn. My eyes are drooping. I slept plenty last night and it’s only morning. I wonder if Theo’s amulet is affecting my energy levels. I’ll have to think of a discreet way to ask him about it.

  At least the quiet here in this room is soothing and restful. Or maybe it is the fact that I am here keeping a friend company in her time of need. This moment would be peaceful if it wasn’t for what had happened to India and Rachel. It feels like a long time since I have sat somewhere and felt okay about not doing anything at all. I close my eyes.

  Sometime later my phone beeps, waking me. It is a message from Storm, inviting me to come into Agency Headquarters if I want to sit in on Jacob Jabari’s interview. I reply, telling him I will be there soon.

  Chapter 15

  ALYS

  Hello bitches. It’s me Alys.
r />   I stroll into the elevator, joining a couple of Agency guys going down to the basement. A couple of sheep.

  The sheep glance at me and see what they want to see. I see them too, with their weapons belts packed to the brim with stunbommers and guns and cagenets. Big weapons to make them feel like big men. My eyes linger on the cagenets, debating getting myself a five-finger discount, but the sheep have fastened them securely. They’re too expensive to lose. Too expensive for spares to not be kept under lock and key. Too bad. I could do things with a cagenet these fools wouldn’t dream of.

  I give the sheep a polite smile. A sweet little people-pleaser smile. It tickles me pink that these bitches have no idea who I am.

  The elevator pings as it gets to the basement. I sashay out, trying not to swing my hips. Don’t want anyone to think I’ve gone off my trolley. For once I’m grateful for no makeup and these dull clothes. All the better to stay invisible to the greedy-eyed. Even so, I’ve seen them looking, trying to get an eyeful of what is under this shirt.

  The basement has a dirty grimy feel. No amount of cleaning is gonna make this place feel like it lives more in the daylight. It’s the ass end of Agency Headquarters. I’m surprised they keep the evidence lockup here. Silly of them. The neglected feel of the place has infected the mood of the pitiable fools who work down here. One of them is slouching at his desk in front of the lockup, ogling a book.

  He looks up only when I ring his bell good, and acts like I haven’t been standing at this counter for the past ten seconds. Like he never heard me approach. Grumpy-faced moron. Keeper of the keys. The kind who likes to whinge and moan as he does his job, making your life so difficult that you find yourself groveling to him just to keep him sweet. Ha! Sweet. It looks like he’s eaten one too many donuts. Clearly his currency. Too bad I don’t have one. Groveling it shall have to be.

  I give him my sweetest smile.

  He fails to look impressed.

  I slide my Agency ID card across the counter towards him. “I’m here to take a look at some evidence on a case that’s been assigned to me.”

  He gives my ID card an unimpressed glance. Not so much a fool as he looks, the little man.

  “I haven’t seen you before,” he says.

  “That’s because I’m new here, honey.” I keep my voice sweet. I flutter my eyelashes.

  It looks like he takes that kind of currency too. He gets a pleased hint of a smirk on his puffy face. He knows its a game. He doesn’t want to let on, but he is softening. I can tell. The thought of having a new flirt is intriguing him. He could be useful. I might even remember that donut next time. If he doesn’t irritate me.

  God, I hope he won’t be irritating. Dull irritating people get my goat. My standing-on-its-hooves-talking-to-you goat. My life’s been full of dullards recently. Give me those who are mad, bad and out of control any day. And give me one soon before I go out of my mind.

  I’ve been dreaming of it — the good time ahead. My payday. I’ve been dreaming of leaving this shithole behind. Of no longer having to pretend. It could have been more fun if these people weren’t such sheep. I like a challenge, me. This current moron is no challenge.

  Resting my hands on the counter, I lean towards him, chest thrusting out oh-so-innocently in my ridiculously prim blouse. “What are you reading, honey?”

  He shoves his book down to below the counter where I can’t see it. And here was me thinking he was reading some sci-fi and shit.

  “Not fit for my eyes, huh?”

  His ears go pink. Good. It means he wants saving from his shame before he turns obstinate. And I’m about to save him.

  “I’m here to take a look at Rachel Garrett’s belongings. Can you point me in the right direction?”

  Donut guy raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He doesn't know who Rachel Garrett is. Doesn't care much either. He doesn't want to listen to me to explain. He wants to get back to his book without me here to take a look at it.

  “Where’s the form?” he says.

  I hold up my hands. “I am formless.”

  “You need a form if you’re removing evidence.”

  “Aren’t we going digital these days?” I ask. “Check your inbox. My form’s there.”

  “What digital?” he huffs. “I aint heard nothing about no digital. It’s paper. It’s always been paper.” He does not look happy about the dark and overwhelming prospect of going digital. This guy probably only logs onto his email once a week.

  I try not to grin. “Not to worry,” I say. “I’m not removing any evidence anyway. I just need to check some of the contents.”

  “Yeah whatever. Sign this sheet here.” He pushes a clipboard towards me.

  I scrawl something illegible in it. Donut guy is no longer paying attention. I add a smiley face.

  He unlocks the security door and points me in the direction of the box I want. He doesn’t stay to watch. I put on my gloves. I trail my fingers over all of the boxes on all of the shelves as I go. There must be loads of interesting shit here. Too bad it is all labeled in reference numbers that mean nothing to me.

  I find the box that contains Rachel’s belongings and take it off its shelf. I put it on the floor so that I can rifle through the contents.

  Everything is neatly packaged in clear plastic bags. Her little gold handbag, her scarlet dress mottled with brown blood stains, her shoes. Her phone, her jacket, her smokes. She favors a menthol brand.

  Without taking her handbag out of its plastic baggy, I unsnap the fastening and tip all of the contents out. They include a cute little purse, various items of makeup including a scarlet lipstick and black liquid eyeliner, and a little bottle of expensive perfume.

  I fish out the perfume and a couple of items of make up and put them in my pocket. I grab the cigarettes and her phone too. I shake out the handbag again in case there is anything incriminating in there. There is not. I seal up the bags and return them to the box.

  When I get back to the counter, donut guy is reading his book again. “Want me to sign out?” I ask.

  He pushes the clipboard towards me without even looking up. I scribble ‘Stupid is as stupid does’ and do my best not to strut away. I don’t want him watching my ass. It might make me too memorable.

  I stop by the ladies’ toilets to put the stuff I’ve liberated into the hidden pocket I’ve made in the lining of my bag.

  On my way back up in the elevator I find myself humming a satisfied little tune and flicking my little crystal pendant. It may be red but it’s as insipid as the rest of my attire. Another thing I can’t wait to be rid of.

  Humming to myself, I sashay out of the elevator and head back to work. I’ve only been a few minutes. Nowhere near long enough for anyone to notice I’ve been gone.

  Chapter 16

  DIANA

  A leggy model-ish girl smirks at me as I hurriedly make my way to Storm’s office, feeling harassed and looking it too no doubt. I arrive to find the office empty. I can see through the glass wall that he is not inside. Dammit, I am late. I had zoned out on the tube and missed my stop. Since my midday nap at the hospital I am not feeling too great.

  “Diana,” calls a voice cheerily.

  I turn to see Agent Aidan Monroe approaching me, carrying a tray of hot drinks in paper cups. Gone is the wide-eyed newbie who had started here a month ago. He looks jaunty and confident today, maybe even a little bit cocky. He is wearing a snappy blue suit that is tailored to his athletic form. It looks good with his brown hair and clean cut looks. He looks like he has settled into the job.

  “Newbie, back on the case, huh?” he says to me. “You gonna solve this one before us, tiger? I got you a tea.”

  “You’re the newbie,” I shoot back at him with a grin. “I see you’re on drinks duty.”

  He hands me a paper cup. “Nah, I’m an old hand now. Got more working hours than you have under my belt.”

  “Yes but I’ve cracked two cases. Two.” I hold up two fingers for emphasis.

  “Yeah,
and you cracked some guy’s head open on the first one I hear.”

  “Hey,” I smack his arm playfully.

  “Careful man, there's a beverage here!” he says.

  “Tell you what, if you find a lead that solves this case before I do, then I will accept that I’m the newbie.”

  “You’re on,” he says. “But I’m warning you. I’ve been working this case like a pro.”

  “If you say so. But if I find a lead before you—”

  “No way. No wagers. You know the boss doesn't like it.”