Sanguine Moon

by Jennifer Foxcroft

  The faces of the Vipers men who kidnapped me come to mind. I hated how weak and vulnerable they made me feel, but is hate enough to justify the outcome? Is this how Enzo became who he is today? I swallow. Just thinking of that equipment turns my stomach. The relief that they won’t be waiting for me ever again is immense but it soon sours. They’re dead because of me.

  Fuck!

  I swallow. His eyes scan my face, but I know a smile is impossible. I bow my head. “Thank you, Papa.”

  My brain is scrambling. He just admitted to killing two men for me. I drag air slowly into my lungs and push the thought away. I don’t want to know these things, because I can’t do anything with the information without endangering Mini. But now I know those thugs won’t be showing up at Kelly and Chad’s house ever again. I’m safe—for now—because of Enzo.

  Enzo teaches me how to sort his takings. It turns out I’m the new payroll officer as well. One journal shows the money he owes his employees, one shows the money he’s putting through the coffee business, and the third book accounts for the rest. The money in the bags needs to match a coffee invoice before I begin distribution. I try to concentrate as much as possible and ignore the churning of my gut.

  A small black device I hadn’t seen before is used to check for counterfeits. The UV light illuminates the hidden glowing strips in each US note. A hundred dollar bill has a pink strip on the left, whereas a fifty has a yellow stripe down the middle. I’m to check notes at random before I count them. He instructs me to wear two pairs of latex gloves at all times while in the counting room. Money is filthy and my hands will smell of it.

  The zeros become a blur as he starts up the counting machine. I load wad after wad of bills, ensuring it purrs constantly. The side panel boasts it counts 1800 bills per minute. In one minute of my afternoon here, I’m holding one hundred and eighty thousand dollars fresh out of the machine. The panic rushes up my spine for a second time. I grab an elastic band and stuff the bundles of money into the correct bag. Fudge me, this is seriously fudged up, and I’m pretty sure my folks wouldn’t believe me, even if I was stupid enough to try to tell them.

  The books are complex, and to be honest, I’m pushing my accounting skills way past what we’ve been taught. I want to make notes to remember for Saturday, but Enzo says that’s strictly forbidden. Nothing will come in or out of this room. No notebook. Nothing. I focus all my energy on memorizing his instructions. A mistake could cost me, or even worse, Mini.

  By six p.m., my brain is fried and the ‘washing’ as I start to think of it, is done. My lips are again busting to say one word—Mini—but my head is telling me not to ask. If he sees she’s my only incentive, he won’t ever trust me.

  “All done. I need to get going,” I say, glancing at my watch.

  Enzo is a man of few words. I’m learning his eyes are the key to what he’s thinking, but he’s the king of control. He stands and buttons his suit jacket before opening the door. The two guards at the end of the hallway are nowhere to be seen. I follow him down another new corridor to the door I’ve been looking for all along. A sticker with the word PRIVATE in red block letters taunts me. When my eyes land on another keypad, my hope fades.

  Enzo angles his body so I can’t see the code he enters. I need that number to have access to my little sister, and now I understand why Mom always says patience is a virtue. I’m out of it—not an ounce left. I push past Enzo the second the lock releases. All I care about is Mini, and to my relief, she isn’t screaming her lungs out. Her little face erupts with joy the second her eyes land on me.

  “Nee. Momma. Nee,” she chirps, bouncing on her feet in the crib. Her little arms are outstretched, and I’m pulling her into mine the instant I’m within reach. She locks her arms around my neck as my legs crumble beneath me. I kneel on the floor, rocking us back and forth, telling her how much I love her. I try not to squeeze too hard, but I’m elated to finally touch her. She’s real. I have her, and everything will be okay—eventually.

  My backpack is still in the possession of Johnson. He has her toys and snacks. Pulling back, I do a mental inventory. She smells clean; she’s wearing a strange jumpsuit, and there’s no visible damage to her chubby little body or face. I try to make her stand, but she throws her arms around my neck like she’s channeling a boa constrictor.

  My heart shatters for the little poppet. She’s missed me, and she’s probably scared surrounded by strangers. Tears well in my eyes, but for her sake, I will not add to her worries by crying. I’m the closest thing she’s got to an adult, so I have to shoulder that responsibility just as Mom and Dad would.

  After a moment, I spy the mirrored glass panel and on instinct I shield her from whoever is watching on the other side. The thirty minutes is over before I’m ready to give her up. Brick opens the door and gestures for me to leave.

  Oh God.

  The only way I manage to return her to the crib is by focusing on what Enzo will do if I disobey. I can’t break our first agreement. Reluctantly, I pry her clinging fists from my shirt.

  “Momma and Dadda love you,” I whisper.

  Her bottom lip wobbles when I step out of reach. I turn my back on her before I grab her again and cause a scene. When I’m three steps away, her scream pierces my soul. Step after step, I ignore her pleas until the door clicks locked, and the soundproofing silences her.

  17. Bad News

  On my way home from school on Friday, I’m scanning the streets for black cars with dark-tinted windows. I want those thugs to be trailing me. It would give me a chance to beg them to take me to Enzo’s warehouse to see Mini.

  Not one suspicious car in sight.

  Back home, I drag my feet getting ready for work. The Bun Lovin’ Barn is the last place on earth I feel like being, and to add salt to my wounds, Rocks won’t be waiting after I’m done. The exhaustion of the week is catching up with me. Shouldering the burden of what’s happened to Mini and watching what it’s doing to Mom and Dad is taking its toll—not to mention I’ve just gone through my first breakup.

  The pizza box on the kitchen island announces my family’s defeat. Mom has given up cooking, and Dad has resorted to take out. My parents are losing it, and I can hardly blame them. The doorbell chimes, and for a second, I want to rush to answer it, but then reality sets in. The cops will not have Mini in their arms. Mom flies through the kitchen, straightening her hair with her fingers as she beelines for the door.

  From my spot in the kitchen, I have a clear view of the entryway. When she opens the door, the looks on the faces of the two detectives explain why she begins to chant the word no, before Dad is by her side and visibly keeping her on her feet. Once invited in, they all head to the living room. I stalk in quietly, monitoring each officer in turn. There is a rat in the employ of Enzo. If I can find out who he is, I might have a chance at getting Mini free.

  Last year, I spent hours watching Mom and Dad for signs they knew I was onto them about my adoption. Those psychoanalysis skills are coming in handy. The problem is neither of these men might be connected to Enzo, and knowing what I do about him, I’d say Enzo has a much higher-ranking official in his pocket, but I study the men in my living room all the same.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. The fire department has located your vehicle.”

  “Fire department?” Mom gasps. Dad grips her hand anchoring her.

  “Go on, Detective Williams,” he rasps.

  “It was burned out, and forensics are still analyzing the vehicle. Doesn’t appear that your daughter was in it at the time, but we’ll know more shortly.”

  I grip the edge of the doorway. Mini was not in that vehicle. Yesterday, I did exactly as I was told. Enzo would never get another day’s work out of me if he’d harmed her overnight. His agreement is all that’s stopping me from collapsing on the carpet. He promised that if I do what he says, Mini stays unharmed.

  Mom is in full-blown hysterics at the thought of Mini being in the car when it was set alight. I head
to my room to escape listening to her pain. Every time she cries for Mini, I feel a piece of my heart fall away. The coldness is back in my bones, and I wish I knew for certain Mini wasn’t in our car. Digging through my books, I grab his card and dial.

  “Was my sister in the car?” I blurt, when his smooth voice answers.

  Silence. I look at the screen to confirm it connected.

  “Papa?” The word tastes worse than acid. “Please tell me she’s all right.”

  “You need to trust me, Contessa.”

  “Trust? Trust a man who kidnaps little babies and uses them to get what he wants? Trust?” I wince. I can imagine the glint of rage in his eyes at my outburst. I need to be smarter. I let out a breath to calm myself. “Sorry. The cops just told us. I don’t understand why you needed to trash their car.” I purposefully choose my words. I want Enzo to think I’m distancing myself from my family and turning to him. Their car—not our car.

  “As I said, trust me. See you tomorrow. Your sister will be waiting.” He disconnects the line as relief floods my system causing me to smile and flop backwards onto my bed, but I need to get myself under control. If I thought my emotions were all over the place last year, it’s nothing compared to how they somersault now. I close my eyes and take a second calming breath. I can’t appear too happy about the car inferno when I join my folks.

  When I poke my head out into the hall, I can’t hear Mom any longer. On the stairs, the murmur of male voices indicate the police are still present and are asking my parents for a list of people that might have a grudge against them. I camp out on the stairs to eavesdrop. Dad’s face shows he’s lost for words, and I don’t blame him. Chad and Kelly are model citizens, and the idea of someone holding a grudge against them is ludicrous. Staying on the stairs away from them will prevent me from admitting out loud that I know for certain Mini wasn’t in our car.

  * * * * *

  My time with Mini on Saturday seemed to be up before it’s even started. When I entered the room, I was pleasantly surprised to see the toys I’d brought for her the other day in the crib. She was also wearing another new outfit so my worry over her wellbeing eased a smidge.

  The Saturday count took way longer than Thursday, and I’m dreading how many bags will be waiting for me on Tuesday. The weekends are clearly profitable for Enzo. My requests to visit Mini on Sunday or Monday were abruptly denied, but Enzo did say he was proud to report his examination of my work showed zero errors.

  To avoid my rising guilt levels forcing me to come clean with my folks, I lock myself in my bedroom with my books. The pages I’m studying refuse to sink in, and my mind wanders to Rocks and how he’s doing. What he’s doing … anything about him at all. I miss him, and it’s hard to believe it’s only been a week since I gave him his last driving lesson. It feels closer to a year since he shared all my secrets. Stress makes time do strange things. The hurt I felt at breaking up with him has paled in comparison to how I feel about Mini being taken. But the moment I think about him and the colony, it pushes to the surface with the same ugly intensity.

  Dad knocks before poking his head into my bedroom. He tells me that they’re going down to see the car and talk some more with the detectives on Mini’s case. When he worries over the phone, I assure him I’ll be here to answer it. I don’t bother pointing out that if they’re with the police, then they’re hardly going to miss their call. He’s doing his best under the circumstances.

  The layers of guilt I’m carrying are almost too heavy to handle. Knowing no new lead or information is going to show up adds one more layer to the stack. I watch from my window as Dad helps Mom into the car. Day-by-day, she’s becoming a stranger. The feisty, independent woman I’ve always admired is fading into oblivion. If she were a photo, her color would slowly be leaching out.

  I stare out into the trees wondering. Is there a way out of this? What if I tell the police? If only I knew which officer was the rat. My plan of attack is to study the payroll journal on Tuesday, but Enzo wouldn’t have gotten this far by using real names.

  Lying on my bed, I try to focus on my textbook. Schoolwork doesn’t stop simply because your sister is missing. I’m behind in every subject and need to catch up, but I’m saved from repeatedly reading paragraphs that won’t stay in my brain when my phone vibrates.

  I’m on your porch.

  The ache I was trying so hard to ignore erupts. My secret-keeper is here. Outside. I could tell him …

  No.

  I will not risk my little sister, and since I have no idea where that warehouse is located, he won’t be able to rescue her anyway. I’m going to have to do this on my own.

  When I open the door, Rocks and Jeremiah are standing with their backs to me, looking out over the porch railings. The set of his shoulders is wrong. Something is up …

  It suddenly occurs to me that Mini’s cheeky, smiling face is plastered over every surface the police have access too. She’s on the TV, newspapers, and missing posters. Stepping out next to him, I swallow my confession.

  “Hey.”

  “This a bad time?” he asks, still staring ahead.

  Oh fudge!

  I’ve never lied to Rocks, but how do I get around the truth now?

  We’re not together.

  He has the blood bonds to take care of.

  I’m not betraying his trust.

  I suck in a deep breath. “The folks are out.” Rocks turns his head my way, flicking his hair off his face, and I gasp when I see the sadness and pain in his features. “What’s wrong?” I reach out a hand, but place it back on the wooden railing next to his. “You okay?”

  He can’t look this broken because of me … because of us. I miss him so intensely it frightens me, but seeing him so utterly devastated scares me more. My controlled, mature, Victorian-era boy is gone.

  Rocks’ face crumbles. He turns away and covers his eyes with one hand. He’s holding his breath, and I can’t stop myself from placing my hand on his arm when I realize he’s trying not to cry.

  This is so not about us.

  Rocks has folded in on himself, I think, to prevent me witnessing his distress. I look to Jeremiah, and again, everything about his body language is off. These boys usually have an animalistic stealth, but I can’t work out what’s missing. Jeremiah steps backward, shaking his head and ends up down on the grass, standing away from us. When his head lowers and he gasps for air, my heart stops. If Jeremiah is crying, it’s bad.

  I look from one broken boy to the other. “Where’s Decker?”

  Rocks flinches. His eyes meet mine, and I feel like I’m going to drown in the pain I see swirling behind his. “The owls …”

  I gasp. “What? Is he badly injured? Do you need me to take him to the vet?” My hand instinctively pats my jeans pocket for my car keys.

  Jeremiah speaks from the lawn, his voice colder than I have ever heard. “He’s dead.”

  Rocks can’t contain his emotions. As his chin meets his chest, two tears spill over, running down his face. My brain struggles to believe what Jeremiah just announced. A numbing sensation seeps outward from my emotional pit. Rocks needs me, but I honestly don’t know what strength I have to give. I’ve used it up dealing with Enzo, but I can’t stand by and witness his agony without trying to offer the comfort I know he needs.

  I pull him to me, trying to convey how sorry I am with my hug. I rub his back, finding comfort in his familiar midnight scent. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” My voice breaks. “Decker was kind to me right from the start.”

  The cheeky, young Camazotz face dances behind my eyelids. Rocks slumps against me, and it’s almost as though half his body is folding over mine and about to collapse. I can feel the defeat under my fingertips. His inked arms wrap around me, but there’s no strength to his hold.

  My excitable bat boy is broken, and he’s not the only one. I absolutely cannot tell him about Mini because Rocks has enough to deal with. His best friend and half-brother is dead.

  I invite the
boys in, but I’m too embarrassed to admit the cupboards are bare. Jeremiah states he will not leave Rockland here alone—daylight or not. Rocks stands silent at the kitchen counter, having composed himself, but his new stillness makes me uneasy. He’s a living, breathing statue staring at the pattern in the marble countertop.

  Jeremiah settles in front of the TV with a plate overloaded with leftover pizza. He’s never been much of a talker, but today I get more words from him than ever before. He is as affected by the loss as Rocks, and he doesn’t move when I rest my hand on his shoulder. He’s not one of the Camazotz I initiate aeronaught contact with, but I know it’s right when I receive his sad smile.

  “Thank you, Connie. Firstly, for giving Odelia that baby, and well, for … you have given us so much. Now, I will never forget. Please do what you can.”

  His words don’t make sense, but I figure once Rocks and I are alone, he’ll explain. I’m surprised to discover that Odelia is Jeremiah’s little sister. I knew the pup without a Beanie baby was related to him from her name, but I had no idea how closely.

  Returning to the kitchen, I stand at the open fridge listing its contents. Rocks shakes his head at all my suggestions. He says he’s not hungry. My world has just been tipped upside down on its axis. The fact that Rocks’ gloriously inked arms are on display makes me wonder how much he’s been a Camazotz. But, that’s none of my business. Grabbing a bag of pretzels, I pull him up to my room.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Rocks sits on the bed, and I’m torn about whether to join him. The breakup is still a raw wound, but Rocks would never abandon me in a moment of need. Sitting next to him cross-legged, I wait.

  “The owls are back. They … he …” Rocks is studying his hands. His hair has created the shield that I detest so much, but I understand he’s using anything to protect himself from the loss. “The Sire thinks these are new owls. Have been released since we’ve been back.”