Under a Blood Moon

by Zoë Fox

  Alex stopped beside one of the larger stone structures, examining the chiseled carvings. Large pillars were half emerged in the marble. From the top ledge gargoyles, their expressions painfully twisted, stared down. She ran her fingers through the grooves of the Latin inscription that spanned the two aged wooden doors.

  “Scio est intellego. Intellego est futurus procul pacis,” she read. “I like it.”

  “You don’t even know what it means,” Sean said, taking a seat on the ground across from where she stood.

  “Says the guy who can’t get Hamlet without the Cliff notes,” She continued to stroke the smooth wood. The tips of her fingers were tingling.

  “At least I showed up for the test!” He retorted, pulling a handful of grass out of the ground, then tossing it carelessly aside.

  “Oh, yeah, because those scores are really going to tell us a lot about our intelligence. The only thing they do is show you how good you are at telling the best possible choice from a group of options, or at best, how good you are at memorization.” She leaned against the door.

  “It says ‘To know is to understand. To understand is to be at peace.’” He smiled. “I took Latin, remember?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. The wood groaned under her weight.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”

  “It’s fine. See?” She pressed the full weight of her shoulder against her center.

  The whining increased and then…CRACK! The two doors opened behind her. Alex teetered, trying to catch her balance before falling inward.

  Sean jumped to his feet. The quiet night was punctuated by the sound of her body hitting stair after stair…until silence.

  “Alex?”

  She tried to call back, to let him know she was okay, but her head was swimming. Whether it was the lack of light or a head injury, she didn’t know, but the little she could see was fuzzy. She raised her arm slowly, bringing her hand to her temple. A sticky, hot substance clung to her skin. Blood.

  “Sean?” She whispered, unable to find her voice. The oppressive darkness seemed to be closing in on her, starting at the edge of her vision and moving toward their centers until the world went black.

  Chapter Two

  His eyes shot open. He could smell it; Life. Not that of the rats that had made the mausoleum their home. Human life, trickling slowly out onto the stone floor. His limbs felt like lead as he pushed against the lid of the coffin. His very veins burned with need. Hunger.

  Placing his feet on the ground, he crossed the small distance to where the smell came from. Without thinking he knelt and pulled the body upwards into his arms. Cradling its head, he tilted it until the neck was exposed. Had he been less desperate he might have considered how this person had come to be in his sanctuary. Or he might have taken the time to enjoy the smell, caress the delicate curvature naked to him, but there wasn’t any time for that. There was only hunger. Bending downward, he drove his teeth into flesh, any flesh would have done. His mouth filled with the sweet fluid he craved. Swallowing, he drew it into him and, as he did, his mind began to return. The creature in his arms whimpered. With the red haze subsiding, he pulled back. That would have to be enough for the time being. His stomach clenched in protest, as he deftly flicked his tongue across the incisions his teeth had caused. Finally, looking at the face he noted that the girl in his arms still bled from a gnash near her temple. Apparently, she had quite a fall. Brushing strands of her hair out of the way, he supported her head in one hand and trailed the tip of his tongue lightly across the wound several times. She stirred, but did not wake. He stood there for a moment, just looking at her, as he tried to decide what to do with her.

  At first, based on the pants she wore, he’d believed her to be a very small boy. On second glance, he didn’t see how he’d made such a mistake. Despite her small features and the youth of her face, exaggerated by the slight upward tilt of her nose and a few freckles, her body was obviously that of a woman. At the moment, her full lips were pulled downward in a frown, her brow wrinkled.

  Standing, he pulled her close to his chest. The hunger made him dizzy and he was sure the last thing her head needed was to come in contact with the marble floor again. His eyes weren’t bothered by the darkness as he made his way to the door he knew was located directly across from the entrance. Using one hand to open it, he began the descent downward towards his workroom. Once there, he laid her gently down on an upholstered couch he’d often used when reading. Crossing the room to his desk, he lit a candle for her, knowing if she awoke in the dark she would likely be afraid. Were she to scream, he believed the stone walls would muffle her cries, but he wasn’t taking the chance of attracting any more attention. Hopefully she wouldn’t take long to wake up. He had things he needed to see to.

  He studied her clothing for a moment. What a peculiar outfit for a woman; baggy blue jean workman’s pants, an immodestly tight black shirt, boots like a soldier might be issued and a jacket made of dyed cowhide. Idly, he wondered if it’s wearer was as nontraditional as her garb would suggest.

  Leaning down, he cleared his throat, intending to wake her. She only curled in on herself like a child. He tried shaking her. She whimpered.

  He sighed. Well, since robbed of other options, he walked over to his desk to pen a letter alerting the Council of his return. He was half-way through his correspondence when he heard her begin to move.

  Turning, he saw she had sat up and was watching him, a look of confusion on her face.

  “Ah, good. You’re awake. I was wondering if you would mind telling me the date.”

  “Huh?”

  “Today’s date. Could you please tell me what it is?” He perched his pen over the top of his letter, ready to write the missing part of the address.

  “I’m sorry?” Alex’s mind was in upheaval. The last thing she remembered was falling down the stairs and Sean’s call for her. Sean! “Where’s Sean?”

  “Madam, I assure you, I don’t know who you are speaking of. Now the date, if you please.”

  She stared back at him, silent.

  “Oh,” a look of understanding crossed his face. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you were…,” he searched for a polite word. “Addled. Certainly, now your apparel makes more sense.”

  She looked angry. “Listen, buddy, the last thing I am is slow and there’s nothing wrong with my clothes. Now where is my friend?”

  “I meant no offense—”

  “Yeah, well, considering that you did a pretty good job,” she interrupted.

  He glared at her, disliking her manners. “You were the only person to barge into my sleeping quarters. If you do have a friend, I have yet to meet him, although the fellow has my sympathy.”

  “Yeah, well, what kind of freak sleeps in a mausoleum?” She asked as she stood. She swayed slightly before gaining her bearings. He didn’t feel the smallest inclination towards helping her find her grounding.

  “One that obviously enjoys his solitude, I would gather,” he responded, turning back to his letter.

  “Or somebody that kills and eats people.” A look of panic crossed her face. “Oh, God, you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

  “No, madam.” He let out a deep sigh in frustrations. “I am not going to kill you. Had I wanted, I could have easily done so while you were unconscious. Now the date, please.”

  She stretched her neck, trying to see what he was doing “October 1st.”

  “And the year?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Look, I didn’t hit my head that—”

  “The year?” he interrupted.

  “2017”

  He turned his face towards her, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “You are quite sure?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m a mental retard, remember? Why?”

  “No matter,” he shook his head to clear it. He’d been asleep for over a hundred years. His mind began to wander aimlessly to the things he’d missed. It would take him months
to catch up. “I’m writing a letter and wanted an accurate date.”

  “And you forgot the year?”

  He didn’t respond as he signed his name. Lucas, she read over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, who’s ‘addled’ now?” she muttered. Silence filled the room as he dripped wax on the folded letter. Her eyes were growing accustomed to the dim light. She hadn’t seen him stand, but she could tell he was a good deal taller than her 5’ft 3’ inches, around 6 feet tall. His hair was long and brown, falling slightly past the collar of his white dress shirt, curling at the tips. Over the shirt, he wore a gray vest, something she’d only seen stuffy older men at church wear the few times Sean’s mother had forced her to come with them. Despite this, he looked young, early to mid-twenties, if she had to guess. She remembered reading somewhere that the average serial killer took their first victim by the age of twenty-eight. Taking a deep breath, she forced the thought out of her mind. All she had to do was walk out, maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  She started edging toward the door. His back was turned, his full attention still focused on the letter. She was almost there when his voice broke the silence.

  “As much as I would not, in the least, feel dejected were I to lose the pleasure of your company, I do have a job for you.” He glanced over his shoulder.

  She stopped. “Look, if it involves taking my clothes off, you can count me out.”

  He gave her a funny look. “Does your mind always waffle between vulgarity and the morbid?”

  She shrugged. “I was just making sure we understood each other.”

  “I was simply going to ask that you deliver a letter for me.” He watched as she took several steps in his direction. “I will pay for your assistance.”

  She started to ask questions, but then thought against it. The whole night had been too weird to even bother with trying to understand.

  “Sure.” She extended her hand. “Give it here.”

  He passed it to her, then opened a drawer in his desk and extracted a single bill. Before handing it to her he said, “Now you promise to see it safely to the postal services?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He placed the bill in her hand.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” She laughed.

  “No, I intended to give you that amount,” he tried to smile, but the hunger was getting worse.

  “Well, Luke, nice try,” she extended her palm once more.

  “Lucas,” he corrected. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Alex. Now seriously,” she put the letter in her jacket pocket. “This is barely enough for the stamp.”

  He looked puzzled. “A dollar is a fair amount for the errand.”

  “Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “If I was five. I don’t get out of bed for less than ten, buddy.”

  “Has money changed that much?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? A buck is a buck. You can barely get gum with it.” She used her fingers to gesture towards him handing over more money.

  He seemed frustrated as he went back to the drawer. He rifled around a moment, before saying, “Would you take five dollars? I don’t seem to have as much money as I , well, as I had expected I would.”

  She let out a deep sigh. “You know, just forget it. I’ll swipe a stamp from my mom and drop it off. You’re obviously running low on funds.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Just make sure it arrives at its destination, please.” He called after her.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Her head hurt. Part of her brain kept screaming “Wait a minute, Alex! There’s something wrong with this picture,” but she couldn’t focus. For all she knew she was still laying passed out on the mausoleum floor. This could all be some crazy dream brought on by a massive head injury. She didn’t want to think about the possibilities.

  Using her hand as a guide, she felt against the wall, praying she wouldn’t encounter anything slimy or trip over a stray bone. “Yeah, that’s just what I need,” she muttered to herself.

  She made her way through the upper room. Only a gray sliver of light made it down the stairs from the open door. In the corner of the room there appeared to be a coffin, it’s lid laying askew. It was a sign of just how out of sorts Alex felt that she could only muster vague interest as to peaking inside. Her head hurt way too much to bother looking.

  “Sean?” She called as she started up the stairs. Her neck was throbbing.

  “Alex,” he yelled back. “Are you okay?”

  “No thanks to you,” she responded, stepping onto the grass. “Why the hell didn’t you come and check on me…No, wait, don’t bother answering that.”

  He blushed. “I didn’t leave.”

  “Yeah, fat lot of good that would have done if my brains were scattered on the stairs.” She pulled her jacket closer. It had gotten darker and colder while she was down there.

  “But you’re okay?” He was standing next to her, checking her face. “You look pale.”

  “I feel dizzy. Tell you what, let me lean against you and we’ll call us even, cool?” She placed her arm around his shoulder after he nodded in agreement.

  “Oh, but Sean?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That whole conversation we had earlier, about you coming with me in case I get hurt.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Tonight completely negates that argument,” she turned so that she was staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t want to hear you use that excuse ever again.”

  “But—”

  “I mean it.”

  Chapter Three

  Alex closed the front door behind her as quietly as she could. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, which meant there was a good chance her mother was not only home, but already in bed. The dull throb in her head had yet to go away and the last thing she needed was her mother yelling.

  Walking on the tips of her toes, she silently made her way down the hallway. She was almost past the living room when she heard her mother’s voice.

  “Alex, is that you?”

  “Damn it,” She muttered to herself. “Yeah, mom. It’s me.”

  “Kirk and I are in the living room, so come in here. We need to talk.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. Kirk was the newest in a long string of men that she’d sworn were ‘the one’. Alex was of the opinion that her mother’s ‘one’ was buried in the graveyard and the best she’d be able to manage now was a cheap second, but the last time she’d offered that insight she’d ended up grounded for a week.

  “What’s up, mom?” Alex leaned her shoulder against the doorway, carefully keeping her eyes on her mother. By not acknowledging Kirk, she hoped he’d realize he needed to keep his mouth shut. This was none of his business. Usually, when her mother tried to force a man to participate in ‘parenting responsibilities’, they became uncomfortable, but not Kirk. He seemed to revel in the fact that she’d given him authority over both Toad and Alex.

  “Where were you, young lady? We’ve been worried sick about you.” Kirk intertwined his fingers with her mother’s as he spoke.

  ‘Oh, great, unity symbols,’ Alex thought, noticing the body language and the use of ‘we’. ‘They’re gearing up for a battle.’

  “I only stepped out for a minute,” Alex started to explain. She was too tired to fight a losing battle. “I walked—”

  “It’s one o’clock in the morning!” Her mother interjected.

  “Really?” Alex took a deep breath. She’d been out for a while.

  Her mother nodded.

  “Which means you really need to start talking,” Kirk released her mother’s hand. His arms were now crossed over his chest.

  “Hard to do when I’m being interrupted,” Alex glared at him. He had a tendency to cut people off, like he thought what he had to say was always most important.

  “You need to watch your tone, young lady.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. Again with the “young lady” stuff? Seriously, had he e
ven met her?

  “Okay, fine. Look, I went for a walk. No big deal. I tripped and hit my head. See?” She pointed to the huge welt that had risen near her eye. I got knocked out. I promise.”

  It was more or less the truth. Well, without the whole part about the weird guy living in a mausoleum. And to be fair, she was slightly hazy on whether or not she had dreamed all that up while unconscious. The way she saw it, it was better not to worry her mother any more than was necessary to garner sympathy.

  “Oh, my God! Are you okay?” Her mother asked as she came closer to examine Alex’s eye.

  “I’m fine.” Alex pushed her mother’s hand away. “I was just out for a bit. And of course, Sean just sat there like a chubby lump on a log, doing nothing.”

  “You could’ve gotten really hurt.” Her mother was still hovering over her. “But you’re sure you’re—”

  “Meredith,” Kirk interrupted. “We’re both glad she’s okay, but that isn’t the point. You left your brother alone.”

  “For all of what she was supposed to be like thirty minutes,” she said in her defense. Even if it wasn’t accurate, it sounded good. The truth was, she left Toad alone all the time. He knew the rules: Don’t play with anything sharp or electric. Don’t climb on anything. And don’t get in the tub.

  “Alex, Thomas is a very special child. He has needs that other kids don’t. It’s not his fault he’s slow.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Alex hated the whole ‘your brother is special’ argument, mostly because she didn’t believe it. He seemed perfectly fine to her. “Toad is different. He’s not mentally challenged.”

  “I know you want to think that, but—” Kirk tried to continue.

  “But nothing!” She stopped him from talking. “I’m going to bed. Conversation over.” Alex turned her back on them and started walking towards the door that separated the rest of the house from the two bedrooms that belonged to her and Toad.

  “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” He yelled after her.

  She slammed the door behind her, locking it from the inside in case Kirk decided to follow. In her frustration, she almost tripped over Toad, who sat cross-legged in the middle of the hallway floor in his Superman PJs.