Luna

by Stella Fitzsimons

  Was it true then?

  I let the water run, filling the sink to the brim. I grabbed the razor from the medicine cabinet and shuddered. I was doing the last thing I should be doing, using more magic—especially magic I didn’t completely understand—but I wasn’t ready to ask for Grandma’s help.

  My trembling right hand struggled to grip the razor firmly, but I managed to prick my left index finger with the corner of the blade, letting a few droplets of blood fall in the water.

  Wrapping my wounded finger in a blue washcloth, I watched my blood disperse into fading ribbons of pink, sinking to the bottom of the sink.

  I clenched my teeth as a sequence of memories flooded the water in fast-forward mode, so vivid I felt the burn and sting of the Immortal’s energy blasts all over again.

  He was real. The icy feeling in my gut could not be the product of a dream or even a nightmare. Only memory can cause such physiological anguish.

  My breath caught in my throat as I reached into the sink to pull the plug, watching the pink ribbons spiral into the drain. By now, there was a good chance this blood magic would have sent a reverberation beyond the walls of my second-floor studio apartment.

  Sooner or later, I would have to answer to the Order about this. I would have to confess that I had revealed my name to an Immortal, and who knew what else. My memories lacking clarity would not save me.

  There were few of us left in the world, but others in the Lunar Order should be told that Immortals were out hunting again.

  The story of our rivalry went back to the 14th century, the time of the Great War among magic factions that lasted thirty years. The Fourth Lunar Division led the witch resistance. In the end, they were defeated. The surviving witches and wizards of the Fourth were herded into buried prisons before being executed one-by-one by Immortal Magistrates.

  To come upon one of those bastards seven centuries later was rotten luck, but to encounter an Immortal Magistrate whose power felt old enough to have been around since the Great War, well, that was truly cursed.

  This guy might have been judge and executioner of my ancestors. And now it could be my head that he removed with an ax and my headless body that he tossed into a blue bonfire.

  I didn’t know what to believe. I didn’t know what had happened exactly or what would happen. I couldn’t even be sure what day it was.

  A crippling doubt overtook my scattered thoughts. Was the fractured memory of this brutal magical attack an actual event or had the Immortal overtaken my head to make me believe it happened?

  His great power could be the power of suggestion. That would be better, that would be the best-case scenario. Because if his dark magic had truly reached that height of mastery, just how dangerous could he be? And maybe he wasn’t the only one, maybe all Immortals had leveled up.

  I leaned back against the wall, trying to pull myself together. Since birth, I had been instructed to stay clear of other magical factions, never use my magic in the basic world, and avoid drawing attention to myself in any way. The slightest slip and I would be inviting someone truly powerful to come for me.

  Well, now I had slipped and someone more powerful than I had ever imagined had come for me. And I compounded that a hundredfold by betraying my true name to him. In betraying my Order, I had compromised the safety of my grandma and of everyone else who knew me.

  A text arrived at the exact moment someone knocked on my door.

  If U R not here in the next 20, U R fired, the text said. Can’t miss 2 shifts in a row, certainly not on a MONDAY MORNING, without so much as a call. Ugh.

  Two shifts? So today was Monday. That was three days I couldn’t account for. The thought creeped me out even more. What had he done to me?

  The knocking on the door became louder, persistent, intruding. Fear knotted my stomach.

  Surely, he wouldn’t knock, Sophie. A beast like that would blow through the door and claw at your throat before you could even blink.

  I opened the door a crack, clinging to my sanity. A guy in his late teens stood there with a broad smile on his lips, a basic algebra textbook in hand, and a backpack strap around his shoulder. He was high-school thin and of medium height. He wore his hair in a cool, tight fade and there was a barely-there silver stud on his left ear. His face betrayed intelligence but lacked in confidence and, most importantly, seriousness.

  “Yes, can I help you?” I said as he seemed in no hurry to speak.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I just had to find you.”

  “What? I don’t see a package.”

  “Yeah. I don’t have one. It’s that… I had a dream… several dreams, actually… about you.”

  Oh boy. Exactly what I needed. A freshman working up the nerve to knock on my door. More proof I no longer belonged on campus with the undergrads.

  “Dude, not cool. Never knock on this door again,” I said, rolling my eyes, before shutting the door in his face.

  “Hey, it’s not that,” I heard his protest through the door. “We have people in common.”

  “I’m busy,” I yelled. “Go away! Shoo!”

  I waited. I could feel him there, on the other side of the door.

  “I had to come here. You missed the last two shifts at the coffee shop.”

  Stalker, much? Sheesh.

  Against every instinct in my body, I opened the door a crack.

  “You’re crossing every line,” I said, unsure of anything at this point.

  “What? You never crossed lines before?” He wiped his mouth and made no attempt to push in the door. “I mean, being in this world, isn’t that already crossing a line?”

  Our eyes locked. I decided to trust him. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into my studio apartment, kicking the door shut.

  “Spit it out. What’s this about?” I said, my face inches away from his. From his stunned expression, I knew I must have seemed crazy.

  He straightened his shirt and took a step back. “I don’t know exactly. All I know is this is where I need to be at,” he said. “It’s never clear. My life is one big blur. Answers are scarce. I just go and now I’m here, you dig?”

  “No, I don’t dig. You’re acting like a stalker.”

  “What? No. This ain’t that. You not my type. No offense.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? So, what’s your deal then?”

  “I mean you fine and all, but I’m not about girls, you dig?” he said as he started to move around to check out my apartment. “I’m Faion. That’s my name, Faion Trice. I don’t know you, but I know of you… well, our grandmothers, they know each other.”

  “Ah! Grandma? Of course. Mystery solved,” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air.

  “Huh? What mystery?” he said. “Your gran didn’t send me.”

  “Then who?”

  “My gran… wait, are you being tricky right now?”

  “You’d know it if I was being tricky,” I told him, then walked to the door, never letting him out of my sight. “If you don’t have answers, I don’t have time.”

  “Wait, okay? Damn, you ill-tempered. I’m a diviner.”

  “A diviner?” I felt like I was losing my mind all over again. “You?”

  “Yeah,” Faion said, put off. “What am I supposed to look like?”

  “No… I mean, yeah, a diviner, sure. What’s that to me?”

  “I’m just messing. Everybody reacts that way. I’m supposed to look mystic, all wisdom and no humor, someone old and crusty. Am I right? Or maybe I should look freaky like Will Smith in that Aladdin trailer.”

  What the hell was he on about? “Is all this ever coming to a point?”

  “The point is I saw something in a dream that…” He paused, regarding me with sad eyes. “Something that… I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Oh my god, dude, for real?”

  There was something like horror on his face. Horror and guilt.

  “Did someone send you?” I said. “Because I’m not buying
this. You can’t be a diviner. I don’t sense a magical aura and I’m pretty good at that stuff and you’re pretty bad at whatever this is supposed to be.”

  “You wouldn’t sense an aura, not in here. I’m protected.” He reached inside his shirt to retrieve a triangle amulet hanging from a silver chain.

  “Life and light,” I said, recognizing the ancient divining symbols.

  “Yeah. My Gran don’t play. She has my shit covered. It works best in small spaces,” he said.

  “710 square feet,” I said. “It’s not the Taj Mahal.”

  He relaxed which made me laugh. I could be scary to young men.

  “Okay, suppose I believe you, Faion. Suppose I don’t start slapping you around all the way to Sunday. What was this dream of yours about?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You’re in trouble, Luna. And it’s about to get much worse.”

  And just like that, while everything seemed to be slowing down all around me, Faion the diviner slipped past and darted out my door.

  CHAPTER 5

  ____________________________________

  Lunar shadows caused by dark side rotation dictate dominance levels in battle. What did that mean? It was obvious I was on the wrong path. I had discovered a tattered copy of The Book of Night Rituals at my local library. The book was full of answers, sure, if you knew what questions to ask, but I had no idea.

  According to various Order documents, hidden clues on how to scan for material waves—in other words, how to determine what’s real and what’s not—were scattered throughout the book. So far, I’d discovered exactly none.

  I never excelled at decoding magical text. There was a good chance I’d mess up the interpretation even if I did find the clues, but someone without a clue needs to find one and, at that point, I was willing to try anything.

  “Why are we meeting at the library?” Lily said.

  I slammed the leather-bound book shut, turned and fell into her arms, hugging her so tight she had to fight herself out of my grip. Finally, something was real in my world again. Lily was real. Her soft skin was warm like hot chocolate with marshmallows, her hair was awash with the scent of green apple and aloe shampoo—everything about Lily was sunny and reassuring.

  “Wow, Sophie, I get it that I’m irresistible, but that’s embarrassing,” she said, amused yet cautious.

  “It’s been a tough few days,” I said with a sigh.

  “Apparently.” She glanced at the book in my hands.

  Instinctively, I covered the title with my left palm, worried it could give away my secrets. “Life happens. I’m over it.”

  “Because you’re a total badass,” she said. “But if there is anything you need to tell your best friend, must we do it in a library? My entire motivation for graduation was to never study again. You know this.”

  I did know that, because it was like her catch phrase the past two months. And, of course, there was tons I wanted to unload on Lily, but I couldn’t for obvious reasons.

  “I have news,” I said, returning the book to a random shelf.

  “Pues, dime, chica.”

  “My Spanish is rusty.”

  “So is mine, but I have that Nicaraguan blood so don’t tell Lucia. I’m literally getting worse every year.”

  Lily always called her mom Lucia for whatever reason. Lucia was a brilliant, petite lady from Nicaragua and a professor of languages. Besides English, she spoke Spanish, Portuguese, French and Guarani fluently. Lily had always felt pressure to learn multiple languages, but it was never her thing.

  “Do you want to hear my news?” I said, shaking my head.

  “Of course. No, wait, holy shit. You got accepted?”

  “Sí.”

  “Sophie? Oh my god. That’s insane!” She wrapped me in her arms and a sudden burst of emotion choked me up. I couldn’t remember the last time a hug had felt so good.

  “Well, it’s not insane. I worked my ass off.”

  “You say it like it’s a good thing. You’re Yin and I’m Yang.” She released me from her arms. “Stockholm, right? Wow. That’s the one is Sweden?”

  She always made me laugh. “Yes, Lily. Sweden.”

  “And I thought the East Coast was too far. You’ll be like a billion miles away and surrounded by tall, blond guys. No variety.”

  “There are thousands of international students,” I reminded her. “All hair colors will be represented.”

  “Are you sure about this? It’s a big choice.”

  “As sure as I’ll ever be,” I said, and for a moment, I believed it. I believed I could just walk away from my mess, get on a plane, fly straight to Sweden and never look back. “It’ll only be for a year, maybe two.”

  “Yeah, unless you mate with a huge, Viking beefcake and bear him seven sturdy sons named Sven.”

  “I’m pretty sure that won’t happen, and Sven is a Norwegian name.”

  “Right, as if you’d turn down Chris Hemsworth.”

  “That’s an Australian guy, and already married.”

  “You’re a total dork, you know what I’m saying.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “You’re going to miss me.”

  “Of course, but you’ll miss me more,” she said.

  She was right. While Lily would still have everyone, I’d have no one and that’s when I needed her most.

  Lily turned her back and covered her face. “No fucking way.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Rocco. That’s what,” Lily muttered through her fingers.

  “Who? Where?”

  “At the computer in the corner. Don’t look.”

  I looked. Rocco Barnes sat browsing the library database which was odd. He had graduated two years ago when Lily and I were juniors, and had left town shortly afterwards, but his legacy persisted on campus.

  Rocco had been a college football star for the Aztecs and a hot, wild, legendary personality on campus. With my own eyes, I had seen drunk girls throw bras at him when he showed up at private parties. Personally, I thought he was too much—too loud, too smug and too masculine.

  “You’re still crushing on him?” I whispered, knowing the answer. “Well, there you go, fate has intervened.”

  “Screw fate, he’d laugh in my face.”

  Lily Guerendo was a classic beauty with full lips, big brown eyes and more curves than any statue of Venus.

  “Is this where I have to tell one of the most beautiful women in San Diego that she is, in fact, beautiful?”

  “Best friend vision is like Mom vision,” she said. “Biased A.F.”

  We’d been friends since my first days in San Diego, nearly four years ago, and became best friends within weeks of meeting. Her outgoing nature was a perfect antipode to my reclusive nature. She made me feel normal.

  She deserved better than Rocco and she deserved better than a friend like me who kept so much of my life hidden from her.

  Lily hurried toward the exit, almost knocking over a chair. I followed.

  “He’s just a washed-up ex athlete, Lil,” I said. “Don’t run into a wall.”

  Lily came to a halt outside the library. Gray clouds gathered overhead. It was the warmest part of the day and humid.

  “Where were you this weekend?” Lily said, suddenly serious.

  “Why, did you try to call?”

  She stared at me perplexed. “Did I try to call? Who asks that? I left you two messages.”

  Oh. “I lost my charger. My phone was dead.” Yet another lie.

  “I called you Friday night,” she said, studying my face as if a new idea had just occurred to her. “Then I left a text message Sunday morning.”

  Friday night. I was either unconscious or getting my ass kicked by an Immortal who dragged my identity out of me. “I was feeling beat up and slept most of the time.”

  “You bitch,” Lily said. “Did you hook up this weekend?”

  I did not expect that. “You’re an idiot.”

  “You did, didn
’t you?” Lily continued. “Who is this mystery man?”

  “You’re right,” I played along. “I was busy making the sex.”

  She giggled as she took out her car keys. “If only that were true.”

  “If only,” I said.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be working today?”

  “I called in sick.”

  “Wait, you lied?” she said in awe. “Is that even a possibility? Can princess Sophie actually lie?”

  “Yes, you’d be surprised,” I confessed.

  Usually it amused me that people thought I could not tell a lie. Not today.

  “I have to run,” Lily said. “Lucia needs help executing her latest garden reimagining. Such bother. Lattes tomorrow?”

  My bones ached and hummed at the thought of a beautiful garden in bloom. The sheer amount of fresh, pampered elemental energy always stirred my life force. “For sure,” I said, “hit me up.”

  As soon as Lily was out of sight, I ran back inside the library to grab The Book of Night Rituals. I tucked the tome inside my hoodie best as I could and walked through the security sensors like a boss. I did not believe that a magic book that didn’t officially exist would trigger the alarm.

  Faion’s visit was still on my mind. I shouldn’t have let him walk out of the apartment like that. I had to find him and make him tell me more. I needed to know all that he knew.

  I heard voices behind me and hastened my gait, pulling the book out from under my hoodie. My fingers trembled with nerves and sweat. The book slipped through them, tumbling onto the pavement with a thud.

  That thing was heavy enough that it would certainly be damaged if it were a normal book. It wasn’t.

  A stranger stepped past me and plucked up the book in one scoop.

  “Hey!” I said, startled.

  He gave the book the once over, arching an eyebrow. “You’re into magic?”

  I froze. Why would he ask that? “I’m into all things medieval,” I said, then snatched the book from his hands.

  He was a few years older than me, fit, and had a fresh, sporty scent. My eyes landed on his now empty hands. He had big palms and long, lovely fingers that ended with evenly clipped nails.

  I raised my eyes to his and saw a sliver of gold inside warm hazel irises, his thick brown hair brushed back casually. He emanated strength and self-assurance. His pecs were visible underneath his tight sweatshirt, and a few sweat beads glistened on his forehead. I noticed the running shoes on his feet.