I’m so not the nursing type. Watching his torment is killing me. It’s almost like my body feels every flinch and jolt of pain that tortures him. There’s a real physical ache in my chest thinking about his broken bones grinding together. I don’t know what to do and being helpless drives me insane. Rocks loops his left arm around my shoulders, and I try to lift the giant boy off the bed enough for him to pull his hand free.
He grits his teeth and grunts but doesn’t cry out again, and for that, I’m thankful. Once he’s on the bed again, I collapse on the floor on my knees and wipe the tears from my cheeks. What have I done?
Flip!
Crushed wing …
Flip!
Sideways boy …
Flip!
Bat screeches …
Flip!
Apologizing boy …
Flip! Flip! Flip!
Watching this excruciating cycle is tearing my chest open. I want to run and hide under my covers, but he needs me. I got him into this mess, so it’s my job to fix his bad wing when he lands on it, even though we both know he’s going to flip again.
The painkillers have taken away his control.
This new predicament is my fault entirely—first, his wing, and now, this unnecessary torture. When am I going to learn that what’s normal for me, might not be normal for him?
It’s close to midday before Rocks is finally human for more than five minutes. He’s burning up, and his shirt is wet with perspiration. The constant changes have exhausted him even further. I run to the kitchen for iced water, but he refuses to drink.
“Not yet,” he pants. “Sorry, Beans.”
My nickname makes my chest feel as though it’s been split open with a pickaxe. God, this boy never ceases to amaze me. The thought of him bothering to use my nickname when he’s suffering pain beyond what I can imagine, brings fresh tears to my eyes. I love him so much.
“I’m sorry. I think the painkillers were too much.” I wipe his forehead, and then the tears on my cheeks. He nods. The colony don’t use any form of modern medicine. Rocks resents the Fold members that deny the colony access to treatment that could have possibly saved many of the Camazotz that died recently in the owl attacks. But maybe his leaders are right …
Watching Rocks out of control on a simple painkiller makes me wonder if the Sire really does know what he’s doing after all. There is no way I can take him to the hospital in this state. His secret would be out in the blink of an eye—literally. There’s so much I still don’t understand about how the curse works, but there has to be a middle ground between shunning technology and keeping their secret.
“Can’t control myself,” he rasps. The sinking feeling inside tells me ominous dark clouds of doom have parked themselves permanently over my house. These days I stumble from one disaster to the next.
Holding Rocks’ left hand, I revise my plan. I wish my mom were here—although she’d probably collapse if Rocks flipped. When Mini, my twenty-three-month-old sister, had the flu, Mom stayed awake around the clock for days on end till the worst of it left her little system. For the first time in my life, I resemble my adoptive mother with my bedside vigil—only I’m not so calm and collected.
“Get some sleep,” he croaks. I look up to see he’s watching me. “Must be tired.”
Oh Rocks. I shake my head. I’m exhausted but I won’t leave him while he needs me.
“I’ll stay until you’re stable.” We gaze at each other for several minutes. The way he’s looking at me is … unfamiliar. I can’t pinpoint the look in his eyes as they slowly roam my face, doing a lazy circle over and over.
“So beautiful,” he whispers. His words set my ears to instant inferno level. “Thank you,” he adds before a coughing fit racks through his body causing him to cry out. I offer him water, but he shakes his head.
“For what?” I ask. Tears well in my eyes, and I try to blink them into oblivion. Why would this boy thank me when I’m the one responsible for his situation?
“For being my girl.” My tears break free and I don’t care. This isn’t how I imagined my first week of having a boyfriend would turn out. “Don’t cry. Won’t be long now.” He closes his eyes.
I want to argue with him that his death will be decades from now, but I don’t want to exhaust him any more than I already have. I also hate to admit to myself that I really don’t know enough about him to be sure anymore. His normally pale skin has a nasty, grayish tinge.
“Now I know why” —he takes a deep breath and moves his right arm across his chest with a grunt— “why the Batman never had a girlfriend.”
A frown creases my forehead before I can stop it. “What are you talking about? And how do you know about Batman and Superman?”
It’s something I’ve wondered since I first visited the market and saw exactly how isolated from the real world he really is. When we first met, he told me he wasn’t a vampire but more like Batman. Rocks has very little experience with modern pop culture since he doesn’t have a TV at the colony and has never even been to the movies. I pull the chair I’m sitting on closer to the bed and lean my arms on the mattress, barely touching him.
He opens his eyes, and I brush his long hair out of the way so he can see better. “Alex Green gave me two comics. Highly contraband stuff,” he says quietly, between labored breaths. “Strickland would’ve had a fit if he’d known.”
I’m confused. He’s not making sense, and I wonder if the painkillers are still affecting him.
“He sounds like an aeronaught.”
His lip curls up on one side a little. “He is. Celand’s boyfriend.”
Holy fudge sundae!
For months, I’ve wanted information on Rocks’ mysterious missing sister, Celand, and now he tells me. If he weren’t already in pain, I’d thump him one. Before I can ask the dozens of question zipping through my mind, he continues.
“Gave me Batman and Superman. I read them over and over until they fell apart. It fed my fascination with your world, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.”
“Why didn’t you ask him for more?”
“Never saw them again. Didn’t realize that Alex was coming to get Celand. She was leaving the colony.” He winces. “Nobody realized until it was too late.” He closes his eyes again and I wait. “She’s dead.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I squeeze his fingers gently. “Why are you telling me this now?” I really don’t understand. Previously, he’s always shut down any conversations involving Celand, and his stubborn refusal to discuss her has caused more than one argument between us.
“You need to know why they’ll come for you.”
Rocks opens his eyes once more. I slowly close my mouth. It was hanging open imitating a Venus flytrap.
“It’s not only me that you’re going to pay for. I’m not the first death the colony has blamed on an aeronaught.”
2. Vultures
Celand had an aeronaught boyfriend.
She left the colony with Alex Green—and now she’s dead.
This changes everything.
The hate the colony has for me isn’t really for me personally. It’s for being an aeronaught and opening a door to freedom they’re desperately trying to keep closed. Before I stumbled—literally—into their lives that night in the forest, another aeronaught had already given them a reason to hate me. Their hate is about protecting their blood, but mine is now in danger of being spilt.
“She ran away with Alex? What happened? How did she die?” I know he’s not in the best state to be bombarded with questions, but this information could be vital.
Rocks is lying perfectly still with his eyes shut. His chest slowly moves up and down. He’s damp with sweat, but his temperature has come down a little. Eventually he answers.
“I wish I could tell you. Been trying to piece it together for years.”
“But—”
“She never spoke to me about leaving. I told you they think I’m the human misfit. My whole life” —he co
ughs and winces— “I was seen as a traitor to Camazotz blood. A few months before she disappeared, Celand started to visit more and hang around with me in human form for days on end. She was full of questions on what I thought life as a human was all about. I was so happy. I thought she was going to stand by my side in wanting to integrate and modernize us.”
He opens his eyes and the suffering I see swirling around in their dark blue depths I don’t think is from his arm. “But she left. She didn’t even offer to take me with her. I would’ve gone if she’d only told me what she was doing. And now, she’s dead.”
My mind races over this information. The betrayal he must have felt at her leaving, when she escaped to the world he’d always craved must have been enormous. And to make matters worse, the Fold would have pointed a finger at him for sure. I imagine him stunned and desperate, trying to convince them he didn’t know she was leaving, or where she had gone.
“How?”
His eyes close again, and he shakes his head. The conversation is over. It’s more than I’ve ever gotten on Celand before, and I should be grateful, but I get the impression it’s the tip of the iceberg. Maybe he doesn’t know how she died? I wonder about Alex Green. Who is he? How did they meet? My discovery of their secret world was purely by accident. How did he find out Celand was a Camazotz?
Rocks’ breathing evens out, and I don’t dare move. He’s fallen asleep. My mind recounts all the times Celand has been mentioned. At the blood ceremony, Macallister and Cypress—two of the Fold members—spoke of paying Celand’s aeronaught a visit. I realize they were talking about Alex Green, and think he’s responsible for releasing the Great Horned Owls into the forest surrounding the market.
Rocks described Alex as Celand’s boyfriend. Surely that means Alex wouldn’t want any harm to come to her family or the rest of the colony? If Rocks decided to walk away from his wing to be with me, I would never wish them harm—let alone a violent, ugly death. And if Alex Green had met some of those not so friendly Camazotz, he’d be nuts to pick a fight with them on purpose. I mean let’s be honest, enemies that can fly and see in the dark have a slight advantage over a run-of-the-mill human.
The home phone ringing pulls me back to the present. I avoid the squeaky floorboards as I race down the hall to my parent’s bedroom to pick up their line before the noise wakes Rocks.
“Hello?” I try to steady my breathing.
“Sweetheart, how are you?”
It’s Mom. Her cheerful voice causes a sharp ache in my chest. My mom. The woman I have given so much attitude to for the past six months, none of which she deserved. In fact, she deserves a medal of honor for raising the daughter of a drug lord and loving me regardless of whom my real relatives are.
“Good,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “You?”
There’s a pause that makes me hold my breath. Dad recognized something was wrong when he spoke to me while I had a gun pointed to my head yesterday. How can that only be yesterday? I rub my temples with my free hand. Will Mom know I need her now too?
“Con, is everything all right?” Two words have left my mouth, and she’s onto me. I exhale, not bothering to hide the sound of my misery.
“I miss you. I really do.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I thought” —she lowers her voice— “you’d be hanging out with Rocks while we were away.”
Mom doesn’t know Rocks and I are dating. We only got together six days ago on Christmas Eve. I know she approves of him because she thinks he’s the most sweet-mannered boy she’s ever met, and his love of my baby sister, Mini, catapulted him to ‘perfect boyfriend material’ status.
“He’s had an accident. Broken his arm.”
“Oh my God, is he all right? Whatever happened?” Her voice fills with genuine concern, and I have to fight the tears that are about to erupt.
No, don’t ask. Please.
Her questions will lead to more lies, and I’m sick to death of lying to her and dad, but the lies are for their protection now. They can’t know about Enzo Ascari, and they definitely can’t find out about the Camazotz.
“He’s in a lot of pain. You coming home tomorrow?”
“Um, no, honey. Your father decided to drive home via Richmond. He’s always wanted to stop off in Virginia instead of driving right through. Listen, I’ll talk to him, and we can come home instead.”
“No, it’s fine. There isn’t really anything you can do. I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve then? Okay?”
This is actually good news. It gives me another day to sort out what to do with Rocks, his arm, and the Camazotz that will come for me if anything happens to him—without my parents and Mini becoming targets too. Dad gets put on the phone, and I’m forced to add two more lies to my tally, but in the end, they decide to stick with their plan to visit Richmond.
The call ends right before I burst into tears.
“You cannot tell them,” I chant, collapsing onto their bed.
I want to tell them the truth. It’s taken me months, but I finally want to tell them everything that’s happened. I want to let the story of my birthday letter and my subsequent search for my birth parents pour out of the hole inside me where I’ve hidden it.
I want to share the terror of yesterday at that farm with those awful men. If only I could crawl into the protection of my father’s arms. I cover my face with my hands and pray they never find out. Chad can’t keep me safe from the Vipers. For the hundredth time, I wish I’d never gotten that stupid letter.
The biggest secret I’m keeping is that my birth mother, Josie Hendersen, offered me up for adoption to prevent my biological father from discovering my existence. She did this because Enzo Ascari is not a nice man. In fact, he’s the alleged leader of the biggest drug ring on the East Coast. According to the Internet, the Vipers are his biggest competitors, and two of their thugs kidnapped me to use me as leverage against Enzo—only Enzo doesn’t know I exist. How fudged up is that?
I can never share this secret.
I must keep it, or otherwise I will be responsible for more than just Rocks’ blood on my hands. If anything happened to Chad and Kelly, or gorgeous little Mini because of me, I’d never forgive myself. I’d never be able to live with knowing I had put the most loving parents in the world in danger. It’s a risk I simply cannot take.
My only hope is that now the members of the Vipers’ gang know that I’m not Sophia Ascari, and I’m not about to take the witness stand and give evidence sending their boss to prison, they’ll leave me alone and go back to finding her instead. I’m worthless in their game. Taking a deep breath, I push my fear of men in vans and drug deals into my emotional elevator pit and jam the doors closed. Rocks. I have to focus on my boyfriend and getting him medical treatment.
* * * * *
I jolt awake to the sound of Rocks groaning. My phone shows it’s after four in the afternoon. The pain in my neck confirms I fell asleep in the chair by his side. From the messages on my phone screen, Tiff has been spamming me. Thank God I put it on silent. My best friend is probably wondering why I haven’t kept her updated on my alone time with Rocks. If only she knew …
I love Tiff, but I can’t deal with lying to her on top of everything else. I thank the universe that the Bun Lovin’ Barn, where I work, is closed for three weeks.
“You okay?” I rub my face to wake up. It’s too little sleep, and I feel as though I’m coated in wet concrete. The adrenaline from the rescue has long left my system. “You need to eat. I’ll fix you something.”
Rocks reaches for me with his left hand. “Sit with me. Not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since” —I blink trying to figure out what day it is— “yesterday morning. I’m making you something.” I stand, stretching my spine. “When did you last flip?”
“Around midday—maybe. I feel in control again.” He sighs. I know he’s remembering the agony from this morning.
Despite his protests, I heat a can of chicken noodle soup and sit on the edge of the
bed to spoon-feed him. He frowns after his first mouthful and sniffs the air, wrinkling his nose. I can’t stop my smile.
“It’s from a can. Mom has spoiled you with her home-cooked meals and baking. Loads of people call this dinner.”
Feeding him is a slow process. I’ve never seen Rocks this physically drained before. He’s so strong and fit from all his flying and seeing his weakness worries me. He accepts a few bites of buttered toast and licks his lips. I want him to eat the whole can and hold another spoonful to his mouth.
“Wait,” he says, rubbing his stomach. “I don’t feel so good.”
“You’re nearly done. Just a couple more.” I try again, and he takes another mouthful.
I load the last fat noodle onto the spoon, but before I can offer it to him, Rocks’ eyes open wide. His whole body stiffens.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t—”
Rocks jerks off the pillows supporting him, leans over with a strangled moan of pain, and vomits all over the carpet. He empties his belly of the chicken, the noodles, and the soup as I try to prevent him from falling off the bed—his broken arm not helping one little bit. When he’s done, I roll him over, and as delicately as possible rest his arm across his torso.
“What’s happening to me?” He looks more scared than Mini the day she watched Toy Story. That bald doll head on the spider’s legs still makes her cry.
“You’re sick, like, you know, you vomited. I don’t understand why though.”
He swallows and I grab some water knowing what he’s tasting isn’t pleasant. “I’ve never done that—vomit—before.”
How can this be? I must be stressed beyond ridiculousness because I’m finding it hard to cope with this new information about his Camazotz self.
“Weren’t you ever sick as a kid?”
“I’ve been sick, but never vomited human food. I only ever fed as a Camazotz until I met you.”
I hold his cool hand between mine. “It’s no fun, huh?”
Sanguine Moon Page 2
