Sanguine Moon

by Jennifer Foxcroft

  “What are you, an expert?”

  “Yes, I am. I was attacked too; remember? But the difference is my attack ended with two stitches above my eye. You, however, not one single mark, so trust me, if those bats had wanted to, they could’ve done some damage.”

  “You’re talking like they have brains and decided not to hurt me.”

  Fudge! He’s right. I’m going to get Rocks and myself in big trouble if I don’t act smarter.

  “They’re just rabid, stupid, blood-sucking vermin that need to be disposed of.” He holds the pen in my face. My eyes land on the bottom signature making my heart skip a beat. Fifty-seven idiots attending this school have supported his madness already.

  * * * * *

  During the week, I spend my time focused on digging up every detail available about all the attacks on the aeronaughts. I print out newspaper articles and maps showing where each attack occurred. I download several news reports to my phone, scanning the Internet constantly.

  Thankfully, Friday is a student-free day because we haven’t had much snow this winter and don’t need to make up for snow days. I’m free to head to the market to make my report to Strickland on the bat attacks, and then confront Rocks. We need to have this conversation face-to-face because I simply couldn’t stomach doing it over the phone. The lead weight in my gut needs to go—one way or the other.

  Dressed in all black, I stride through the market, but before I make it to the jewelry shop, I almost have a heart attack. Two women—one reminds me so much of Mom—exit the candle shop with a large Sanguine Mountain shopping bag. I spin around and notice several other shoppers strolling along—their bright colored clothing a shock to my system.

  When I enter Rocks’ shop, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. He’s leaning over the bench that lines the far wall, inspecting something. He grabs a hammer, adjusts the tongs resting on the anvil and whacks it three times. Holding up the tiny square of silver sheet metal, he inspects his work closely. Suddenly his eyes flick to me, and the smile that will break my heart today appears across his face.

  “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He carefully places the tongs and hammer on the counter and skirts around some equipment to get to me.

  “I need to talk to you about—”

  Rocks places a slender finger over his lips shushing me and winks. The same finger points upward indicating to the ceiling. My gaze follows …

  “Shi—sugar!” I gasp, grabbing my throat. Dozens and dozens of little bat faces stare back at me, hanging from the roosting bars that cross the airy space of his ceiling. “Wow.”

  Good Morning, Miss Connie. Good Morning, Miss Connie.

  Good Morning, Miss Connie. Good Morning, Miss Connie …

  The chorus of young voices rings between my ears making me flinch. I try to smile, but know it probably looks like more of a wince of pain. A moment later, I’m surrounded by what must be every single pup in the colony. I glance over my shoulder to look out the window, but the coast is clear.

  “Hi, kids.”

  The whole group giggles before Bailey steps forward. “We’re not goats. We’re pups.” Her leather eye patch has been engraved with a bunch of flowers.

  It takes me a second to work out what she’s talking about. I guess the goat population to feed the colony would have to multiply. She probably gets to play with the kids each spring. It’s yet another reminder these children are so isolated.

  The sea of mini Goths crowds closer, and then the requests begin. There are forty little girls—without beanie babies tucked under their arms—looking at me with hopeful eyes.

  I look at Rocks. “I’m gonna be in big trouble, aren’t I?”

  “Not gonna be—you are!” Rocks takes charge, and before my eyes, these tiny girls in the cutest Goth dresses you can possibly imagine all form organized groups. “Raise your hand if you would like Miss Connie to bring you a Bean’s baby to love?”

  A quick hand count, then he instructs them not to tell anyone before shooing them out the door. They can’t flip outside since there are unsuspecting aeronaught customers on the prowl, so I watch as they skip or run off without a care in the world.

  “Come see me before I leave, Bailey.” She smiles over her shoulder as she skips off with her friends.

  Rocks explains it’s the first time he’s ever seen all the girls together without the politics of the wings getting involved. He reiterates how certain wings stick together and vote, but the new fascination with aeronaught toys has bridged all divides, even at this young age. He says Bailey would never spend time with some of those pups before this and offers to give me some money to help pay for their orders. The pups have been hanging in his shop for three days when they heard I was due to visit Strickland.

  “Don’t worry about the money. It’s fine.”

  Movement at the back of the shop causes me to jump again. Rocks just smiles. What I wouldn’t give for his senses some days.

  Moonshiner is standing alone in the shadows. He gives me the tiniest hint of a smile before turning an impressive shade of scarlet. I’m guessing he’s glad the army of girls has left.

  “Come closer,” Rocks encourages. The boy’s eyes turn the size of dinner plates. “Don’t be shy.”

  Moonshiner has the same high cheekbones and chin as Rocks. I realize it must be a trait they get from Zada. I bite my tongue to resist telling him I met his father. Nobody understands the longing for discovering your family better than me, but he’s so young …

  “May I … may I …” His eyes dart up to Rocks.

  “Go on.”

  “May I touch your hair?” he finally whispers.

  “Of course.” Kneeling down to his height, I have the strongest urge to hug this boy and tell him everything will be all right.

  Stepping closer, his fingers stroke down my ponytail. “It reminds me of dawn. The first golden rays that break the night.”

  That does it. I can no longer keep my hands to myself. “Can I have a hug?”

  The look on his face is priceless and reminds me so much of the shocked faces at Duskwing, when I hugged his cousin. If my hair is the first rays of dawn breaking the night, then his smile is the explosion of light when the sun breaches the horizon in a glowing red orb.

  He wraps his arms tightly around my neck as his raven-haired head rests on my shoulder. Rocks frowns, as though in pain, before turning away.

  When Moonshiner eventually lets go, his eyes are sparkling. “I want a hug every time I see you, okay?” I add.

  He turns bright red again, but grins and nods before shuffling out the door.

  Rocks still has his back toward me, and my instincts have no clue why. They’re too overloaded with feelings and emotions to possibly stand a chance at interpreting this. “Why did you say that to him?” His voice sounds tight.

  “Because as the only member of his wing, I’m betting he doesn’t get enough hugs.”

  Rocks moves so fast and has engulfed me in his own bear hug before I have time to protest. “Thank you,” he says quietly in my ear. “That will mean the world to him … and to me.”

  His words make my chest ache. I have to ask about the blood bonds.

  A throat clearing behind us forces Rocks to let go, and we turn to face his father.

  “You bring that information?”

  Well, hello to you too, Strickland. I’m very well. Thank you for asking.

  I trip getting to my bag, but feel Rocks’ fingers at my waist to steady me. They send a shiver up my spine I simply do not need right now. Handing over the stack of information, I grab my phone. My lungs begin to wheeze.

  “Do you want to watch the television reports?” I hold up what Strickland considers the spawn of Satan and his reaction is as predicted.

  “We do not have access to those televi—”

  “Sire, it’s a yes/no question.” Rock interrupts. “Do you want to see it or not?” I’m pretty sure my eyes match the size of Moonshiner’s. Rocks has never
spoken to his father that way around me. I wonder what’s happened in the last five days.

  Mini was mesmerized by Road Runner on our TV when I left this morning. Wile E Coyote’s plan was foiled yet again. Strickland is channeling that crazy, pissed off coyote to a tee. His eyes look feral, and his shoulders have bunched up so high they’ve completely swallowed his neck. I actually check to see if steam is coming out of his ears.

  “Here.” I shove my phone in front of his face. I do not want to be part of any more arguments. Pressing play, Strickland jerks with surprise when the newscaster fills my screen and starts speaking.

  He requests I play each news report twice. I’m guessing the aeronaught magic made it hard for him to concentrate on the information during the first go. The maps with the attack sites I have marked are handed over next.

  “They lied,” he growls. If I thought he was upset before, that was nothing. The muscles of his arms almost ripple with tension, and the map he’s holding crinkles in his fist.

  Rocks pries the paper from his father’s hand and studies it before swearing quietly.

  “What?” I look to each of them.

  He looks to his father who gives a quick nod of his head. “These locations point to Duskwing being responsible,” Rocks says.

  Holy fudge sundae.

  “I’ll assemble the Fold and all the Clip. We need to make a decision,” Strickland says. “Contact Rockland if you hear anything more.”

  Bailey chooses that exact moment to return to the store. My teeth worry my bottom lip as Strickland tracks her movements. She smiles up at everyone before she sits on the bench seat next to my handbag, patting Scorch on his head once she’s settled him on her lap. When Jeremiah taps on the door, getting the attention of both men, I use the distraction as my chance. I slip the picture book about the dragon who’s allergic to fire out of my bag and under her arm.

  I move back to stand next to Rocks. He’s listening to Jeremiah and his Sire. I study his face while he’s occupied. He’s so good-looking it’s no wonder half the girls here are after him.

  “What is that?” Strickland snarls, making me jump. All eyes are on me. Bailey is sitting flicking through the pages with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her little face. “Enough!” He takes two strides and ends up way too far inside my personal space. I step back seeing nothing but his furious eyes. “No more toys. No more aeronaught influence. En-ough!” he booms.

  Before I can defend myself, Bailey is pushing between us. Her little fists thump on his rock-hard thighs. “You can’t tell her what to do. You’re not her Sire,” the tiny spitfire announces.

  Crabapples.

  “Bailey—” Rocks tries, but Strickland quiets him with a raised hand.

  “Go to your mother immediately, and I will deal with your impertinence when I’m done dealing with the cause of it.”

  “No.” She rests her tiny fists on her hips. If this weren’t so serious, it would be freaking adorable.

  “Go!” he shouts, pointing to the door. Her bottom lip quivers, as she follows his command.

  “What are these dragons she keeps talking about? Are they a threat to us?”

  He can-not be serious. My eyes flick to Rocks, but I get nothing from him. The fact a grown man is acting as though dragons are real is too much. “You seriously have never heard of them?”

  “Are—they—a—threat?” he snarls.

  “No, of course not. They aren’t even real.”

  His eyes narrow. “Then what is this nonsense you’re filling our pups with?”

  “It’s … well, fun.” I swallow.

  The stare he levels on Rocks makes me quiver. “This is what you’re after?” He points at me. “Fun?” He shakes his head. “Fun?” he yells, and I curse my frayed nerves for jumping a second time. His venom gets turned on me. “You expect me to know about ‘fun’ when we’re under attack not only by the force out to weaken us, but now your government is going to study us and do heaven only knows what if we’re discovered. You think I have time for games? If dragons can’t feed, clothe, or protect my kin, there is no room for them in my life—or our pups! Are we clear?”

  “Father, she was—“

  “You will refer to me as Sire. Right now, the last thing I want to be reminded of is you being my son. A disgrace to the blood we share.” Rocks doesn’t even flinch at the insult, but my blood is beginning to boil.

  “You’ve always told me that aeronaughts would never accept us, but here is Connie doing just that—showing kindness and love to our pups—and yet you push her away.”

  Strickland simply glares at us both, turns on his heels and strides off. Just the angle of the Sire’s shoulder blades tells me either of us would be crazy to go after him. Yet again, I’ve made life in the colony more difficult for Rocks.

  “Sorry—”

  “Don’t. Just don’t. You know this isn’t about you, or the fucking dragons. It’s about me. It’s not your fault. You do not need to apologize.”

  I beg to differ. This has everything to do with me and my aeronaught self. That’s why those wings are in the Sire’s ear about Rocks—because of me. My gut tells me this is a battle I won’t win, and given what Rocks said on my previous visit about him influencing the pups, Strickland’s outburst isn’t good.

  Rocks is pacing back and forth. The tension in his shoulders and his clenched fists an indicator that he’s as furious as Strickland.

  “Give me five minutes” —he says striding toward the door— “I need to check what’s going to happen to Bailey.”

  He’s gone before I have time to answer. Taking a seat next to the door, I try to sort out how I’m going to broach the subject of his blood bonds. I close my eyes and focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth three times.

  “Where’s Rockland?”

  Opening my eyes, a girl—clearly several years older than us—is giving me a look like I’m dog poo on her new shoes. Pissed off from Strickland, I give her my the-feeling-is-mutual-sister scowl. The tattoo patterns that cover both hands remind me of Indian henna designs. Only I know better. They must reveal their pattern when she’s a Camazotz.

  Before I have time to answer, she adds, “It’s about last night and my blood bond.” Her shoulder-length hair is fine as silk and moves with the breeze coming in the door.

  Crap!

  No!

  He didn’t …

  If I wasn’t already seated, I know I’d be a crumpled mess on the floor. Pain like nothing I’ve ever felt rips through my entire body. The day I read Josie’s letter didn’t even come close to hurting this much.

  “Well?”

  “The Sire,” I whisper, pointing down the street. What they did last night is the final nail in our couple coffin. We are done. I bend over my knees to help get oxygen to my lungs. The air slowly seeps in so I rest my head on my hands.

  “Connie? What’s wrong?” Those long fingers rub my back.

  “Do not touch me,” I hiss, sitting up. “You got your rocks off last night, and think you can touch me today?”

  The venom in my tone makes his eyes widen. “Get my what off?”

  “You know!”

  “Get me off what?” He frowns.

  “Oh fudge your 1865 language skills. Open Urban Dictionary Mr. Techno-pants and let it explain.” I, then, have to explain what Urban Dictionary is, and Rocks is delighted to have access to a dictionary of modern terms. I study his face as he reads the definition. The anger from a moment ago creeps back into place.

  “That is not funny.”

  “Tell me about it!” I yell.

  “What’s going on with you?” He stares down like an avenging angel in black, but I return his glare with the most menacing stare I can muster.

  “Did you … did you … with, ugh, I don’t even know her name! Keeping track of your bonds is getting out of hand.” I stand so he isn’t looming over me. Rocks’ mouth opens slightly, and it confirms to me he didn’t know I knew about the blood bond
s. “Did you sleep with the girl with swirls tattooed on both hands?”

  The immediate denial I was praying for doesn’t come. He looks up at the ceiling for a brief second. “I haven’t slept with anyone. I told you that.”

  “Yeah, as a guy, but what about as a bat?” I need to be crystal clear here if I’m going to end the only relationship I’ve ever wanted with all my heart. “Did your dick … bat or other … go anywhere near that girl? Did it? Tell me?”

  Rocks winces at my wording, and I can’t blame him. I could have phrased that soooo much better, but I need to get this out in the open once and for all.

  “It hasn’t, but … I owe her a blood bond.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about those?” My eyes fill with tears. I dig my nails into my palm as a distraction. Pain other than what’s crushing my heart might prevent me from crying. “I tell you all my secrets, but you’re still picking and choosing what you think I can handle. When are you going to trust me with who you are completely?” It’s a fair question if he wants to be my boyfriend.

  “It’s not that simple.” He pauses, and to say he’s looking wary is an understatement. It’s as though he recognizes just how close I am to exploding. “I do trust you. I swear, Connie. There is nobody I trust more.”

  “Yet you keep vital stuff from me! Were you ever going to tell me about the matings you owe all over the freaking colony?”

  The pain in his eyes makes me feel slightly better—I’m not the only one hurting. “I didn’t know how. I’m sorry—so sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

  “What about the blood bond you owe me?”

  He looks confused, hurt, and worried all at once. He takes my hand and indicates for us to sit, but it only annoys me more that he can tell my knees are about to give out.

  “I got you back to the roost so you could live. Don’t you owe me one too?”

  Rocks’ chin falls to his chest. “Of course, I do. Connie—”

  “So at any given moment any of those girls can ask you to … and you will? You have to?” Tears well up again as I imagine him with that girl, or Rebekkah … not me … but one of them. I know they won’t sleep together as humans, but it’s the only image my mind can conjure, and my stomach churns each time I witness that scene in my head.