Dark Moon Falls: Jaxson

by S. J. Pierce

  My heart kicks into a gallop when I realize what it is.

  Leave.

  It’s written in big letters. Small letters. All over my ceiling.

  A bead of paint drips against my forehead, rolls down my nose. I swipe at it and smell it to make sure it’s really paint.

  I scan around my room to see if anything else was disturbed.

  “Maddie?” I say, but it comes out as a raspy squeak.

  Footfalls ascend the stairs.

  “Maddie?” I say again.

  My door flings open and it’s Levi, face tight with concern. When he sees the red on my face, his eyes flare.

  More wolves pile behind him and try to look past and into my room.

  “What’s up, guys?” Maddie says below. She sounds worried.

  I point to the ceiling with a shaky finger. Someone was in my room. With paint.

  How did I sleep through this?

  They look up and their jaws go slack.

  “Paint,” is all I can manage.

  I hear Carson say something downstairs. “Keep him down there,” the girl wolf cautions her.

  I glance at my clock, and it then dawns on me they’re here early. It’s only eight. Maddie said they’d be here this afternoon.

  “We tracked her here,” Levi said.

  “Her?” But I knew the answer before he replied. The witch.

  “The rogue.”

  Ohmygod.

  The ground shifts beneath me, and I rest on the edge of my bed. The rogue is the one leaving me messages. And apparently stalking me.

  My eyes drift up to Levi’s. I don’t know what to do. What do we do? The town’s best hunters can’t even seem to track her down. They’re always one step behind.

  What if she’d had other intentions last night that didn’t involve paint? Maddie’s here. Carson.

  My chest squeezes in panic.

  “Want me to get Phaedra on the phone?” a wolf behind him says.

  Phaedra, the High Priestess. Maybe she would know who it is.

  Levi nods his assent.

  * * *

  While Levi’s on the phone with Phaedra, Maddie calls Barnett. He and Ralph are here in minutes. While Ralph takes Carson for a drive so he can shield him from what’s going on, Barnett stays to help us get to the bottom of it.

  “Do you know who this could be?” he asks, and Maddie hands me a fresh cup of coffee.

  I stare blankly at the surface of the card table. “I don’t.”

  “She…doesn’t have a lot of fans here,” Maddie offers.

  He nods his understanding. Or maybe it’s his agreement. He’s no stranger to my past.

  He then produces a small pad of paper. “So, we’ll make a list.”

  I rattle off the ones I can remember. All the people who wouldn’t be happy with my returning.

  “We can start with Alicia,” he says solemnly. I guess he feels she’s the most probable suspect. She had been shipped off to a mental ward once. And this is definitely unstable behavior—stalking. Vandalism.

  Levi ends his call with Phaedra.

  “She have anything for us?” Barnett asks before he has a chance to say anything.

  Levi shakes his head. “Not really. She’ll talk to a few members of the coven. See if they’ve seen or heard anything strange. Said she’ll get back to me by tonight.”

  “I’m not sure we have that long,” he counters.

  My stomach lurches.

  “What do you mean?” Maddie asks.

  “Well…this type of behavior is indicative of someone without rational thinking. And unless she leaves town immediately, the consequences could come at any time.”

  “Then she needs to leave.”

  They pause for my reaction, but I don’t hesitate. “No. I’m not letting anyone bully me.”

  Maddie squats beside me. “This isn’t about bullying, Rhee. This is dangerous. This person is unhinged.”

  Barnett nods his agreement.

  But how do they know it will stop there? If I leave town? “What if she just wants to get me alone?” I counter. “What if her goal is for me to go home where I’m separated from those who can best protect me, and then she does something to me then?”

  “I agree,” Levi says. “The worst thing she can do is do exactly what this person wants.”

  Barnett rubs the tension from his neck. “Good point.”

  “She stays,” Levi says. “And as long as she’s here, the pack and I will protect her.”

  He thinks a minute. “We need at least half of your guys tracking, though. Can half stay here with her for protection, and half of you track?”

  Levi nods. “I’ll consult with Elias, but I don’t see why not.”

  Elias must be the Alpha.

  Maddie slides into the chair beside me. “What about the viewing and everything?”

  Barnett plucks his cell phone from his pocket and heads for the front porch to make calls. “We go where you and your sister go. And no one’s leaving town until we have her in custody. Not only is she unhinged, she’s violent.”

  Jaxson can attest to that.

  27

  Magic Vajayjay

  The rest of the morning, I busy myself with packing boxes and throwing anything away I don’t think is donate-able. By noon, the hunters have emptied my room of everything but the mattress. They call Jaxson and a couple wolves that aren’t hunters to come get it all, so they can stay here in case my secret admirer shows back up.

  Until this rogue is caught, the house will stay under twenty-four-hour surveillance and Carson will be staying with Barnett.

  I don’t emerge from my room until I know for sure Jaxson’s driven away with my things. I can’t see him today.

  I find Maddie on the couch with another glass of wine, her eyes on the floor with a blank stare. Half of the hunters are on the front porch. Ralph is with the other half to track down the rogue, while the other deputy uses Barnett’s list of suspects to see if he can find a lead.

  “You okay?” I ask her.

  She nods a fragile nod.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, tears burning my eyes. I can’t seem to stop being the source of pain for this family.

  Her head snaps up. “For what?”

  “For…everything. Carson was here.” My chin trembles. “He was here in this house while some crazy bitch decided to break in and wreak havoc. That’s unacceptable.”

  She pats the cushion beside her. “And that’s not anything you’re responsible for.”

  I nod. Settle beside her. I know. I know other’s actions aren’t truly my fault, but I can’t help but feel it this time around. If anything happened to Carson, to Maddie, because of an enemy I’d made wasn’t happy with my return, the guilt would tear me apart all the same. And I don’t know if that’s something I would ever recover from.

  Actually, I know I wouldn’t.

  They’re all I have left.

  I rest my head on her shoulder, and she strokes my hair. “They’ll find her,” she cajoles. “They will.”

  I hope she’s right.

  * * *

  Visitation is a whirlwind of emotions and people, some I don’t recognize, some I do, like a handful of old friends, and even a few from middle and elementary school I’d long forgotten. If anything, it helped me not feel so awful. So hated. Not as much as I always assumed. Funny how we can isolate and villainize ourselves out of fear or guilt when others honestly don’t think anything at all. Everyone has their own lives and drama to tend to. And there are some…gasp…who don’t believe everything they hear.

  That’s not to say I still don’t have enemies. Or people who think poorly of me.

  Obviously.

  Some people choose to live in judgement and bitterness, but today gave me a little bit of hope. And totally backed up what Maddie has been saying—my dad made a lot of friends the past couple years. And was well-loved.

  There is one person who’s noticeably absent today, though: Jaxson. He’s still giving me
space. Under different circumstances, he probably would have come, but I try not to feel guilty about that too. Or worry that maybe he had another fight with the rogue. Did he hear what happened last night? Try to join in the search for her?

  I swat the thoughts away. There’s nothing I can do about any of it.

  When the crowd finally thins, it’s a quarter ‘til seven, fifteen minutes until it’s over, and Zenesha, Janey, and Lyall from the bar walk in. They give us quick hugs and condolences, and then head back out. They probably closed the bar for a little so they could come by. It’s a Saturday night, but it’s a small town. They can do that.

  By five after seven, the place is completely empty, minus the hunters who’re guarding us, and Barnett and Carson. Ralph and the others are still out hunting the rogue.

  “Nothing yet?” Maddie asks Barnett.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing yet.”

  * * *

  Our car ride home is silent. Maddie and I are in her car, Barnett and Carson in a patrol car behind us. The hunters have shifted and are running alongside us in the woods.

  As we turn on our road, Maddie glances at me, says, “Jaxson asked how you were today.”

  I say nothing.

  “When he came by to get your furniture. He heard about the incident this morning and was worried.”

  So…? I look out the window to avoid the topic.

  “I told you so,” she says in a sing-song voice, the first hints of levity in her since last night. “Magic vajayjay.”

  I whip my head in her direction. Fight a smile. “What does that have to do with it?”

  She smiles back. “Nothing. Just wanted you to say something.”

  I stick my tongue at her.

  Punk.

  She adds, “And I need him to either be hot or rich. Both are just unfair.”

  She must be thinking of his car today. Of him in general.

  I almost don’t take the bait, but with me, curiosity seems to always win. “Speaking of. What does he do, exactly?”

  “For a living?”

  I nod.

  “Hell, if I know. Word has it he comes from old money and has invested it wisely.”

  Huh. And that must lend time to woodwork and off-roading.

  And lying to women so they’ll sleep with him.

  28

  Deal

  I have a hard time falling asleep that night. I can’t imagine why. It’s only the night before my estranged father’s funeral. And a rogue witch is after me.

  Maddie downed some sleeping pills with the last of her boxed wine and snores softly beside me on a mattress in her old room. We haven’t had a chance to paint over the rogue’s artwork yet, and I’m not about to sleep in there with Leave all over the ceiling.

  Between her snoring and the hum of the hunters’ faraway conversation on the front porch, I wouldn’t have a prayer of sleeping anyway.

  I need absolute quiet.

  But at least I feel safe. Ish.

  Sometime around midnight, her phone buzzes and glows beneath the covers. “Maddie?” I say, nudging her.

  Snoring.

  I fish through the covers for it. She doesn’t wake until I say, “Hello?”

  “Rhee.”

  Barnett.

  I hold my breath.

  “What is it?” Maddie says groggily beside me.

  I put it on speaker phone. “All is okay, Rhee,” he says. “Carson and I are good. Sorry to wake you.”

  I sigh. Good.

  “And we caught Alicia. It was her. She confessed to everything. I just wanted you to know.”

  I deflate into the mattress, a thousand pounds lifted. When has anything in life been this quick and easy? I thought for sure their hunt would take days. Weeks. But I’ll take it.

  Maddie lifts her hands to the ceiling.

  I do have questions—where’d you find her? What did she say? Where are you going to keep her? But I’m too drained to form a coherent sentence. “Thank you,” I finally say.

  “You’re welcome. Now go back to bed. Carson and I will see you two tomorrow.”

  * * *

  As if the heavens knew we needed a small reprieve, the weather has mercy on us for the full thirty minutes of the graveside service. It’s grey and gloomy in the late afternoon, but at least it’s not raining.

  As the preacher shares some final thoughts about death and life thereafter, they begin to lower the casket into the ground, and I have to look away. My sister cries into my shoulder. Carson clutches her arm.

  I catch a glimpse of dark hair in the back of the crowd. Someone turning and walking away. A strong arm lifting and sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

  An Italian car in the distance.

  My stomach drops. Jaxson.

  He came for the service. Must have stood silently in the back to pay his respects but didn’t want to stay long enough to unnerve me.

  I have a strange urge to call after him, but of course I don’t.

  When the service is over, the crowd quickly disperses, and Maddie and I are the last ones left. Carson is playing by the edge of the woods with a lizard.

  It starts to sprinkle.

  “Sticking around for dinner?” she says. Mascara streaks her face, but even still, she’s beautiful. How her ex could leave her and Carson without looking back is beyond me. He never deserved them.

  I debate my answer. “Id like to get home by dark,” I say. Which is true. Work starts early tomorrow morning. I’m fortunate enough to be able to work from anywhere (my boss doesn’t believe in daily commutes. Reducing our carbon footprints, and all that), but I didn’t bring my laptop. On purpose.

  She nods her understanding, wraps her arms around my neck.

  We stay like that for a moment, the heavy mist wetting our shoulders.

  I squeeze her. “We’ll be okay,” I whisper.

  “We will,” she replies.

  We have each other. Always.

  She pulls back, cups my cheek in her hand. “Just don’t be gone so long next time?”

  “I’ll come back more often,” I say with a small smile. “Promise.”

  “Maybe for Halloween?”

  It’s in a couple weeks.

  My eyes drift to Carson. To the freshly covered grave. Back to her. And suddenly, Facebook posts and Facetime don’t seem adequate anymore, the drive not as far. This town not as hellish and haunting. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  After a huge hug from Carson, he and Maddie leave to eat, and despite my dress getting soaked and leaving the umbrella in my car, I find myself still lingering around Dad’s grave.

  My hand finds its way to my dress pocket where I shoved the wooden finch before we left, and I squat beside the mound of dirt. Smile. Stick its little wooden feet near his headstone.

  My heart tugs for me to say something to him. But what do I say? It’s been so long.

  I close my eyes, chin trembling. A tear squeezes out.

  And it’s all I can do not to actively fall apart right then and there as we share a quiet moment in the cemetery, but I’m afraid at what might happen if I allow myself to.

  Counseling, I remind myself. As soon as I get back.

  And then it comes to me…

  “I’m sorry I hit you that day,” I finally say. The words sound small and hollow in this empty graveyard, but I am. “I’m sorry I shut you out when you tried to reach out and make amends.” The damn breaks against my will, and I plant my face in my hands and sob. “Please forgive me,” I choke out. Forgive me….

  I allow myself a good, long cry. The kind that contorts your face, makes your nose run and leaves your throat raw. An ugly cry.

  When it settles into snagged breaths and a vacant heart, I splay my hand across the dirt. Leave it there a moment. Leftover tears fall heavy, dripping against my knees and mingling with the rain. I sniffle. “And I’ll work on forgiving you.”

  I imagine him looking up at me, the dad from my younger days. His green eyes shining. His face crinkling with an
adoring smile. “Deal,” he says.

  My fingers curl into the soil and I choke out another sob.

  Deal.

  29

  Achy Breaky Heart

  The road out of town is oddly empty. The tourists must have headed out earlier today. But I’m not complaining; it gives me a chance to settle my mind. My emotions of the week. Something about a quiet drive can do that.

  I think about the talk with my sister two nights ago, about how we’ve all needed second chances. We always think we’ll have later. That there will be a later. Another time. Even one more time. How stupid of me to once assume I knew better than time itself. The time is always now. To pick up the phone and call. Call back. To visit. Mend.

  Dad’s apology for the things he’d done, his forgiveness for the way I’d left things, those things were always waiting for me whenever I wanted them. I just simply had to reach out.

  I smile. Look to the heavens. I guess you could say this is the first thing he’s taught me in a long, long time, but it’s also the last. At least it’s an important one.

  As for me and Jaxson and second chances? I’m not ready to implement this lesson with him yet. I still have some healing to do. And if fate brings us back together, we’ll see where it goes.

  Today, I’m headed home.

  When my eyes settle on the road again, something in the middle of it startles me, and I slam my foot against the brake pedal. Tires squeal against slick pavement, and I skid to a slanted stop.

  A woman in a black dress with a flurry of red hair is standing on the double yellow line. Still as a statue. Staring into nothingness.

  As if I didn’t miss her by a couple yards.

  I breathe heavy, chest heaving, heart hammering. And I swallow hard as I roll down the window. My fingertips tingle from the adrenaline. “You okay?” I yell out to her.

  At the sound of my voice, her charcoal-lined eyes snap to mine, her irises so dark they look solid black. Her black-painted lips twitch. Something about her, her bone structure beneath the snow-white complexion and inky black makeup, looks oddly familiar.