Sanguine Moon

by Jennifer Foxcroft

  Ultimately, the risk is worth it to save the life of my baby sis.

  It makes me think of Rocks, and what he’s risking by choosing to date me over the Camazotz. The Shadows could kick him out because he wants to date aeronaught-style. He’s risking too much but appears so calm about it. I really need to talk to him about those ‘consequences’ he said might happen, but first Mini.

  Even though the thought of telling Mom and Dad everything sends me into a tailspin, I know deep down that’s what we have to do. The truth needs to be heard. I need to be honest if I want to have a shot at being the old me. Last year, lies got me results in finding my birth parents, but they’re the cause of everything that has gone wrong since. If I had talked to my real parents from the start, I’m betting I wouldn’t be in this position. The truth would have saved us all this heartache and pain. So no matter the cost to me, I’m spilling the beans.

  The only thing that calms me is that I’ve got Rocks. He knows who I am and what I’m capable of, and he says he still wants me. I won’t be alone even if Chad and Kelly do disown me.

  Rocks flies in my window, late Sunday night. The sudden echo of Jeremiah and Ezra’s voices in my head scares the crabapples out of me as they say hi from the trees outside. My paranoia is at an all-time high. I didn’t even want Rocks sharing Josie’s awesome plan over the phone. Mom and Dad are sleeping, so we sit in the dark on my bed facing each other, whispering back and forth.

  Step one: Find that warehouse.

  Step two: Josie pays the Phillips a visit and convinces them to keep the cops in the dark.

  Step three: Get dirt on Enzo to put him away for the rest of his days.

  Step three is reliant on step one. Without Rocks finding the warehouse, he can’t copy the evidence we’ll need to give to the police—Josie’s bright idea. I’m confident he can use the air vents to gain access to each room, but we won’t know for sure until Rocks can check it out. Rocks says he’ll be waiting for me at school on Tuesday while the boys will be stationed at each of the two exits of that parking garage. I need to hold it together until then. Rocks kisses me briefly aware of his listening friends hanging outside, but when he moves to the window, Jeremiah’s voice in my head makes a request.

  Bring pretzels.

  Being surrounded by hungry teenage boys helps keep me grounded.

  * * * * *

  I dart around the group of sophomores clogging up the exit. Going left, as three members of the football team go left, my pencil case snags on something sending the load I’m clutching skidding all over the concrete—books, phone, and a crap load of paper litter the exit. The sophomores barely glance my way, too focused on the close proximity of senior jocks as I rescue my junk.

  Next thing I know, the last person I’m in the mood to face is reaching for my phone. Parker stands up as I continue shoving my stuff in my backpack, like I should have done at my locker.

  “Please sign my petition. I’m handing the last one in today as the county is set to make a decision, and every voice counts.”

  I stand and try not to snarl at him. Parker hasn’t given up his kill-innocent-Camazotz campaign.

  “What do you mean ‘make a decision?’” This is the last fudged up thing we need. The hairs on my arms stand on end at the thought of the government after Rocks. I rub my scar and when Parker’s eyes follow my hand, I want to slap myself.

  “Concerned citizens have rights—”

  My brain is having trouble believing this is the same boy who couldn’t write his own Economics essay six months ago. Then again getting signatures isn’t exactly the same as arguing a side of an essay question and involves no typing skills at all—not that he has any.

  “Just because it isn’t in our county, doesn’t mean we should ignore public safety for—” Parker continued.

  “Parker!”

  He stops talking and stares at me. I’m very aware that he still has my freaking cell. “What—vote?”

  “To see if the cull will be paid for by the government.”

  “What do you mean ‘to see if?’ Isn’t it a question of if the cull will happen?” I glare at him.

  His smile sickens me. “Oh, it’s happening according to my group, it’s just a matter of who will pay—”

  Before he finishes speaking, I snatch my cell and his clipboard. Parker’s grin has an air of triumph about it. Shoving my phone in my jeans pocket, I tear the sheets from the clipboard and rip them to shreds before he can stop me.

  “Shit, Connie, what the hell?” he yells as I throw the paper in the air making it rain confetti signatures.

  “Cruelty to animals is never okay!”

  On the drive to today’s meeting point, I wonder if Rocks witnessed my Parker encounter. I have to watch the late news to find out about this vote he’s so sure of. Strickland might not be as prejudiced as I’ve always thought. Imagine what the local residents would do if they knew those bats could shape-shift? I almost miss my turn off and the blaring honk from the car behind me tells me I need to shove the Camazotz cull to the back of my brain for later.

  Brick is leaning against a gleaming BMW. Maybe Enzo should move into the car rental business, he’s practically got a fleet of them. I slide into the back noticing the leather smells new, and Johnson is waiting with my blindfold.

  “Afternoon, gentleman.” My tone is light because my gut is telling me Rocks and the boys are going to succeed. Fifty-seven minutes later when I step out into the warehouse loading bay, I have to do everything in my power not to break out in dance moves.

  Look up.

  Nine o’clock.

  High in the rafters, next to an open louver window is a black bat hanging upside down. The loading dock doesn’t have a ceiling, and in this area only, you can see the metal roof and iron support beams. Rocks is in! He’s here!

  Enzo, you are going down, dearest Papa. You’re going down.

  When I hug Mini goodbye, I whisper in her ear that she’ll be home soon and kiss the top of her head. I have to refrain from skipping down the hallway. Back in the loading dock, the frustration of not being able to communicate back to Rocks is pissing me off. I can’t risk staring at the rafters either, so I focus on my scuffed boots.

  Staying to watch.

  Call later.

  I nod my head and send up a prayer that Rocks will be safe.

  * * * * *

  The next day at school, Tiff elbows me three times during English when I’m called to answer different questions, but haven’t heard a single word Mrs. Yamaguchi’s been saying. I’m running on nervous energy and caffeine—okay, and a packet of Swedish fish and three of Mom’s orange and poppy seed muffins. Sugar is going to get me to the finish line.

  Tiff scrawls a message on her book.

  Fudge! I bite my cheek and glance her way before picking up my pen and assuring her that I’m fine and not about to assault Parker if I see him in the halls. I should have known that display would have hit the cell network in seconds. I’m amazed I’m not viral on YouTube.

  Her next message asks if there’s any news on Mini. I shake my head. Tiff reaches over and squeezes my arm. It’s as though she’s squeezing my heart. She’s a good friend—much better than I have been—and I don’t know what I would do without her.

  If she thought I was ignoring her last year, then that’s nothing to how little I’ve spoken to her recently. I can only handle lying on so many fronts, and the folks take precedence. Sometimes, it’s best to keep your mouth shut. But being the trouper she is, she’s not upset.

  Rocks is in the kitchen with Mom when I eventually make it home. She’s baked. I’m glad because that means she’s doing well today, and I need her at her best to cope with the bomb I’m about to drop on this household. When I ask her for the third time if Dad will be home on time, Rocks grabs my wrist and pulls me up to my room.

  “Calm down. She’ll be here. It will work.”

  Depending on Mom V1.0 is not something I feel comfortable with at all. This is the woman
who gave me away. My feet start pacing the tiny circuit of my room. Rocks follows me with his eyes.

  “Sit down. You’ve got three hours before she’ll be here. Why don’t you paint your nails?”

  “I can’t.” So much rests on Josie convincing my folks to trust a couple of teenagers to secure evidence on the most successful drug supplier on the East coast to free their kidnapped daughter without the dirty cop finding out about it. “Crap! We are never gonna pull this shit off.”

  I breathe out through my mouth, trying to stop my heart from doing the rumba in my chest. Totally loco is what we both are for thinking this could ever work. Delusional. Cray-cray. Looney tunes. Take your pick.

  “Calm down,” he says from my bed.

  “Distract me.”

  Faster than Rocks can flip, he has me pinned against my wardrobe door and is kissing the life out of me. All I can feel are his hands and body pressing against mine. He’s taking charge, and after a second, I let him. I give in, moving up onto my toes to wrap my arms around his shoulders. Both his hands slide down into my back pockets and he gives my butt a slow squeeze. It’s a bold move for the 1865 boy and sends my heart rate rocketing in the best way possible.

  Rocks straightens up, ending the kiss. The lazy smile on his face I know matches mine. “Josie will show,” he whispers.

  “Who?”

  Laughter fills the air, and then Rocks attacks my ribs with his long fingers. I’m screaming and squirming trying to get free. His arms seem to be endless, but I dart left and make it to my bed. Grabbing my pillow, I spin and whack him hard across the chest. I manage two well-aimed thumps with my pillow before his long arms circle and pull me against his chest. He turns and collapses backward onto my bed so I’m not crushed under his weight.

  Rearranging ourselves, I’m snuggled into the crook of his arm as his hand plays with a couple of long strands of my hair. It’s the safest I’ve felt in months.

  My chest aches that I feel so happy lying in his arms when my baby sister still isn’t safe. But I can’t help enjoying this selfish moment. My stress levels have been beyond insane, and I need a small break to prepare for what we’re about to do. I must be calm when I face my folks. Whether I’m a rocking mess in the corner, or smiling at the most amazing guy who has his arms around me, Mini will still be locked in her jail cell alone.

  As though Rocks can read the turmoil I’m experiencing clearly on my face, he smooths out the frown I wasn’t aware of.

  “It will be all right.”

  We stayed entwined on my bed in silence until Rocks hears Dad’s van pull into the drive.

  He sends the text.

  Rocks and I are waiting on the porch swing when Josie’s beat up hunk-of-junk pulls up. She parks on the street and watching her walk up the drive is a scene I try to memorize. Each time I see my birth mother, I want to preserve every miniscule detail about her because I never know if it will be last time we cross paths.

  “You certainly have her looks,” Rocks says behind me.

  Two of his fingers are in my back pocket. I think it’s his new favorite. I know it’s mine because the connection helps me to stay present instead of flipping out again.

  “I’m sorry it came to this, Contessa. I really am,” she says, stopping on the bottom step. She’s wearing a blue cotton shirt, tucked into jeans with sandals that show her black painted toenails.

  “So am I, believe me.”

  For some reason, I don’t want this to happen around our kitchen island. It’s the heart of our house where so many good things take place. Tainting it with my biological blood, and what it’s done to this family seems wrong. The formal living room it is.

  “Mom, Dad, can you come here please?” I call.

  I usher Josie around the corner, and she stands beside me in silence.

  Kelly enters first and stops on a dime when her eyes land on Josie. I watch her facial features as her eyes roam from head to toe. She gasps, stepping back, and collides with Chad rounding the corner. She’s using both hands to cover her mouth as her eyes dart from me to Josie and back again.

  She knows.

  “What’s going—” Dad starts before he sees an older version of me in his living room. “Who’s this?” He steps around Mom but wraps an arm around her waist. He frowns when he sees the look of shock written clearly across his wife’s face. “Connie?”

  Mom swallows her shock and drops her hands. She steps up, straightening her already pristine dress. “I’m Kelly Phillips, Connie’s moth—” Her eyes dart to mine.

  “Yes, my mother. You’re still my mother, but I know now.” Dad’s looking from me to Mom to Josie and doesn’t have a clue. Men. “Dad, this is Josie Hendersen.” I let the name linger in the air, but he still doesn’t tweak. “My birth mom.”

  “What? Kelly? How did she find out?” He’s more upset than I expected. And startled is not a look you see very often on Chad Phillips.

  “We’re about to find out,” Mom replies.

  Josie takes a seat, and I begin my crazy, hard-to-believe tale. It starts with the letter, and my awesome detective skills. Mom comments that it explains why I suddenly turned into a scowling teen for the best part of last year. When I tell them how I felt lied to and lost about who I was, Mom bursts into tears. Dad gets indignant, but I explain that he stopped kissing me when he came home at night. He would kiss Kelly, then Mini, but not me. That one harmless gesture added to my feelings of not belonging—of not being the child that mattered.

  “Because I thought your head was going to shoot off your shoulders if I got too close,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “You started staring at me with this crazy look. I thought it was your way of letting me know you weren’t a little girl any longer and didn’t want to be treated as such. It’s why we let you take that job.” His eyes are sad when he finishes explaining, and another layer of guilt joins the heap. I’m definitely guilty of watching him like a hawk.

  After that, I soldier on because we aren’t anywhere close to the part that’s going to freak them out forever. I refrain from telling them the Vipers kidnapped me. That’s something they cannot change, and since the Camazotz came to my rescue, it involves details that I don’t want to lie about. When it’s time to explain who my biological father is, Josie gives me a nod of encouragement.

  “I want you both to know I’m so sorry for everything.” I glance at Josie before focusing on my parents. “I’m sorry I opened that letter and didn’t talk to you about it. I love you, and I hope you’ll still love me too.”

  “Connie, don’t—” Dad says.

  “—be absurd,” Mom finishes. “Of course, we love you. And will no matter what.”

  Three deep breaths later, bombs away.

  “Enzo Ascari is my Dad, and he’s kidnapped Mini to force me into working for him. There’s a dirty cop on his payroll so I haven’t been able to tell you any of this because I was scared of what he would do. Rocks, Josie, and I have a plan to bring her home safe, but we needed you to be in on it,” I blurt.

  My parents, who never swear, teach Rocks a few new phrases with their colorful response. Mom’s tears have moved from sprinkler to water fountain setting, and Dad is pacing the living room, talking loudly but not making much sense. After several minutes, he sits down, rubs Mom’s back until she gets herself under control, and then makes a move for the phone.

  Thank goodness Rocks is here and moves like a Camazotz. He wrestles the cordless from Dad’s hands before the man manages to dial those three vital numbers. Rocks looks like a cross between alarmed and guilty at getting physical with my father, but Dad cannot call the police. With no phone, his worry morphs into rage, and he starts to yell—at me. I flinch, but have to admit, I expected this reaction. His little girl was kidnapped, and I’ve known all along. The stress and sleepless nights they’ve experienced are all on me.

  His face is bright pink from lack of oxygen. He’s hardly taken a breath since his rant began. “How could you let—” he continues to roar.
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  Josie is on her feet. “Enough!” Her stern tone silences my father. “Sit down. I would like to remind you that my daughter has kept your daughter safe by following strict instructions issued to her by a man who is capable of murder. Have you thought for one single second how stressful that has been on a teenage girl? Would you have coped as beautifully as she has knowing her sister’s life is in her hands?”

  Dad starts to argue about there being ways to tell the police, but Mom places her hand in his and pulls him down onto the sofa.

  Josie continues. “You’ve never been alone in a room with Enzo Ascari, have you? I know you haven’t because if you had, you would know that when that man threatens a life, he means it. You should be applauding your daughter’s strength of character and tenacity to do whatever it took to keep her little sister safe and well. You should be proud, because that man did not get to his position without shedding a lot of innocent blood, and Connie was smart enough to recognize that keeping this a secret, from everybody in her life, was the only way to protect Jasmine. I understand what she’s been through because I was married to that vile excuse for a man.”

  Dad sits and looks suitably ashamed. He goes to speak several times, but nothing comes out. His eyes meet mine, and I try to convey that I understand. I get it. He has every right to be flipping mad.

  Josie apologizes very sincerely for setting the wheels in motion that led to us all being here having this conversation. She continues to dismiss each and every suggestion Dad has for getting his little girl back. Josie knows Enzo better than anyone and is adamant that the only way to take control is by getting the evidence the Feds have been after for years to lock him away forever.