Luna

by Stella Fitzsimons

  I bent my face. “That’s simplifying it a bit. It’s comparing peoples as in large cultural groups, not really meant for one-on-one kind of analysis.”

  “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m here representing all the boys next door of the planet Earth.”

  “Cute, but let’s be real, long-distance relationships are not cool.”

  Did I just use the R word? I half expected him to suddenly remember he had an urgent meeting and run for his life.

  Instead, Emmet Groshek shrugged. “Maybe I’m not cool.”

  “You know you’re cool, Emmet, but we would be connecting to the idea of each other and not actually to the real person.”

  He picked up a plastic fork and faked a stab in his chest. “Your wisdom cuts deep,” he said with a chuckle, “so let’s put an expiration date on it. We’ll just throw it out like bad cabbage when you leave.”

  “There’s that smooth Emmet again,” I said. “You forget that I see you. I know you know that’s bullshit.”

  He laughed and stared at me in that way that makes a girl blush, like I was a pastry he was about to eat. Instead, he jumped to his feet, startling me.

  “I forgot,” he said before sprinting to his car.

  I knew it, there he goes, running for the hills.

  He returned holding a small bottle of Merlot. It was too obvious to think he was trying to get me drunk, but if he was, I might just let him.

  He splashed a little wine into two plastic cups. I picked up mine and took a sip, savoring the sweet, fruity flavor.

  He winked before tasting his wine.

  “This stuff is good,” he said, then took down a huge gulp.

  “Remember, Emmet, you’re driving.”

  He took the cup from my hands and leaned in close enough that I caught a scent of the Merlot on his breath.

  As his eyes intensified, gold sparks glistened in them. It reminded me of the first time I saw him, but more magical. I could swear those sparks were more than basic, but I sensed no etheric energy about him. Maybe basics possessed a magic all their own, a magic called radiance or charm.

  “There is a little-known legend about this area,” he said. His eyes turned dreamy. “A story from before the time humans walked the Earth.”

  I felt intoxicated and it was not from the wine. His voice swam into my ears in ripples. Strong and soothing, yet soft as a whisper.

  “Tell me,” I urged him.

  “An ancient nymph lived here in Silver Strand when the world was still quite primitive. She was the first sentient being. She drew her essence from the stars. Being alone, she grew lonely. She wished for a companion. The stars made it known that a price would be exerted. Her life. The nymph wandered for weeks before coming to a decision. She threw herself in the ocean and sank. Her body absorbed water until her arms and legs sprouted into roots that stretched out and shook up the dark depths of the sea, and from her sacrifice came life, first in the ocean depths and then above on land.”

  I shuddered, having my own affinity to the stars. I sincerely hoped my fate would be less sacrificial.

  “The nymph didn’t ask to be a martyr,” I said. “Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Legends rarely do, but your delicate grace reminded me somehow of the lonely nymph,” he said. “You might be her direct descendant, a star child.”

  Bullshit artist.

  His lips met mine, warmth slid down my spine all the way to my toes. I hesitated, trying to decide whether to push away or close my eyes and receive his lips eagerly with a proper kiss.

  Emmet kissed me so sweetly before I could make up my mind. I didn’t want him to stop. I pressed against him. Exhilaration coursed through my veins as our tongues playfully tangled. The sense of flying mixed thrillingly with a primal, irrational fear that I was being very bad.

  Yet, all I wanted was to linger inside his embrace, to stay wrapped up in all that exhilaration and warmth until the end of time. To grow dizzy in the spell of his fresh-shaven scent and in the safety of his strong, gentle arms.

  He pulled away, placing a quick kiss on my nose.

  “That’s all I have for you,” he said. “If you want more, you’ll have to go out with me again.”

  Oh, the nerve. I rolled my eyes, emphatically. “That’s extortion, and otherwise not cool, Dr. Groshek. Next you’ll tell me there’s a co-pay.”

  His eyes grinned. “Funny. Let’s call that kiss your co-pay.”

  “Let’s not,” I said, then pinched his arm.

  His laughter, like everything else, was growing on me. This was not smart, this was horrible timing, this was completely reckless.

  I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  CHAPTER 13

  ____________________________________

  Lucia’s pot roast smelled so mouthwatering I feared I might drool. It had been such a long time since I had enjoyed a decent homecooked meal.

  Faion spooned some of the tender meat into his mouth. “My goodness, that roast melts on the tongue like warm butter. This comes from God’s kitchen,” he told Lucia. “If I was ever to date a woman, you’d be her.”

  Lucia turned to me, disbelief on her face. “You can bring your sweet-talking friend to dinner anytime.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said, shrugging. “He’ll just show up at your door.”

  “Gay or straight,” Lily said, “men always talk shit.”

  “Lily!” Lucia said. “Faion is company.”

  “Nah,” Faion said. “She right. Men are bullshit artists.”

  “Yep,” I said, “we can toast to that.”

  We all lifted our glasses of Cabernet to seal the toast.

  Lucia could have been mistaken for thirty. A flattering linen floral print dress clung to her petite frame. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back and braided into an elegant bun. Her huge silver hoop earrings jingled as she laughed and turned her head to attend each of her guests.

  She spent her childhood in the Nicaraguan highlands, chasing her friends through rolling coffee fields. Lucia and her family immigrated to the states when she was only fourteen.

  Lily shared an apartment with two friends but spent half her time at her mother’s place, a ranch style three-bedroom house with a large backyard and a lush, wild garden that was Lucia’s pride and joy.

  Lucia was also a sublime cook. The rustic wooden dining table was overflowing with delicious offerings. The puffy bread rolls were freshly baked, the nacatamales were still steaming and the orange juice had been squeezed only moments before served. Lucia could have been a world-renowned chef.

  “Damn, Lucia, these tamales are banging,” Faion said while chewing.

  “They’re nacatamales,” I corrected him. “A Nicaraguan dish.”

  Lucia gently patted Faion’s shoulder. “Thank you, Faion. If you ever need an adoptive mother, you can show up on my doorstep anytime.”

  Lily turned and rolled her eyes at her mother. “I’ve long suspected that you’ve been trying to replace me.”

  “Oh, honey, I couldn’t do that,” Lucia said. “The laws wouldn’t allow it.”

  This amused everyone, even Lily.

  Lucia turned her attention to me. “Lily tells me you’ve been accepted for your master’s degree. Stockholm. How exciting, Sophie.”

  Faion coughed, immediately covering his mouth. “Europe?” he said, locking eyes with me. “You sure that’s prudent?”

  I kicked him under the table, a bit harder than intended.

  He winced. “Okay, yeah, Europe, cool.” He rubbed his calf under the table.

  “Why wouldn’t it be prudent?” Lucia said, her maternal instinct piqued. “Is there something holding you back, Sophie?”

  I gulped down an entire glass of water, taking my time. “Like we said, men do like to talk smack. And for Faion, it’s something of a specialty.”

  “Rude,” Lily said, gently elbowing my ribs.

  “Wrong girl,” Faion said, avoiding my gaze. “Sometimes I get my white female friends
mixed up. My friend Tara, she a mess right now.”

  Um, not convincing.

  “How’s your mother, dear?” Lucia asked, inquisitive look on her face.

  My least favorite subject.

  “No change.”

  “I’ve been reading about alternative treatments for catatonia,” Lucia said.

  “Oh, mother, no one cares about your reading,” Lily said.

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “My grandmother reads about that, too. I am sure she’s tried everything. Send me the link. Trust me, she’ll check it out.”

  Strange that she would bring that up now. Lucia was usually discreet, preferring to dive into less personal facts, like a newly discovered uncontacted tribe in the Amazon Jungle or how Ecuador gave nature constitutional rights.

  “It must be tough for you,” Lucia added.

  “Honestly, I was too young to remember,” I said. “For me, my mom has always been like this. It’s been normalized. I’m not harboring hopes.”

  “Oh, you sweet thing,” Lucia said. “I do wish your father had been around at the time. It helps to have another hand to hold.”

  I smiled. Lily could tell I needed a subject change. Little did either of them know I’d spent most of my life lying about my mother and avoiding the topic of my father about whom I knew little.

  Mom wasn’t catatonic in the strictest sense. She was under the influence of a potent, cruel spell that kept her trapped inside her own mind, unable to move or communicate but painfully able to think. I was four at the time.

  The most skilled witches in the Deep Down had never been able to identify the spell, let alone reverse it.

  This was not a basic-friendly story. Instead, we told everyone she was being treated for catatonia in a facility in Oregon. The magic world and the basic world must never intersect under any circumstances.

  I shivered, getting pins and needles in both palms. A numbing sensation rushed through me and exploded into an unsteady current inside my belly.

  What I sensed was a magic ripple, but how? I wasn’t its origin. I was in control of my magic. Was it Faion?

  I reached out to touch his hand. It wasn't him. His etheric field was steady and calm as usual. He squeezed my fingers, once, twice, then three times.

  Whatever this was, Faion sensed it too.

  “Guess who I saw at the farmers’ market?” Lucia asked Lily, thankfully changing subjects.

  “Tom Hardy,” Lily said before Lucia could finish. I swear, Lily mentioned Tom Hardy’s name multiple times a day.

  “I saw Helen Barnes,” Lucia said, undeterred.

  Lily sighed, disapprovingly. “Mamá, how very not exciting.”

  “Did you forget? Helen is Rocco’s mother.”

  Rocco Barnes. Right. Lily had mentioned in passing that Lucia was acquainted with Rocco’s mother.

  Lily put a big piece of bread in her mouth. Her cheeks bulged out.

  “She said Rocco’s in town, and we should visit for old times’ sake.”

  What was it with Lucia today? Why did she go out of her way to bring up topics she knew perfectly well we didn’t want to discuss?

  Lily swallowed and put her fork down. “Old times? I barely know them.”

  Faion leaned toward me while our hosts exchanged barbs. “You feel that?” he whispered.

  I nodded.

  “Would you two like some dessert?” Lucia asked. “I think we could all use a change of mood.”

  “Is Kanye crazy?” Faion said. “Hell, yes, I want dessert.”

  “I guess I could find room,” I said with my hand in my belly.

  “Right answer,” Lucia said, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “We have lemon cake and pecan pie and homemade vanilla ice-cream.”

  Faion considered his options. “I’m going to need all three.”

  Lucia smiled and reached out for her daughter’s hand. It would have been the polite thing to help, but I needed the time to talk to Faion.

  As soon as the two women stepped inside the kitchen, I turned to the window. Darkness had descended while we ate—the night shadows loomed, gathering power and menace. The moon was out of sight, but I could feel its silver energy hidden behind the passing clouds.

  “Do you think one of those scent monsters is out there?” I said, the memory of the deformed animal haunting me most at night.

  Faion shook his head. “Whatever, maybe, but it’s not out there, Sophie, it’s in here.”

  “You think something followed us here?”

  Magic creatures usually stayed clear of basic homes and businesses. It had been that way since the beginning of man. It was the reason coexistence had been possible for all these millennia. Even Immortals avoided messing with the real world, but these unknown demon-animals might have had different rules altogether. The thought of that was chilling.

  “No.” Faion pointed at Lucia’s seat. “I think it’s the mom.”

  My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “I’ve known Lucia for years. She’s basic, Faion. You’re crazy. You and Kanye.”

  “She just happens to have a wild garden and food to die for… let me guess, she’s good at everything.”

  I was not willing to concede anything to him. “You’re wrong. Period.”

  He stared at me, tenderly. “Okay, maybe someone or something is plugged into her. Maybe, but I doubt it.”

  “That makes more sense,” I said. “She has been acting strange.”

  “Be careful, Sophie,” Faion whispered. “Wishful thinking is a mistake only basics can afford to make.”

  Lucia and Lily returned to the dining room, carrying trays with offerings almost too good to be true. Dare I say, magical.

  Was Faion right? Had my friendship with Lily thrown off my senses, left me unable to see what was in front of my eyes?

  I reached out and took Lily’s hand. Her face was radiant and clear as usual—no signs of etheric energy about her. In fact, Lily’s aura was the clearest and lightest I had ever sensed. Ever!

  Why did everything suddenly feel so suspicious?

  If her mother had any dealings with the world of magic, Lily had been shielded from it completely, but what else was being shielded?

  Maybe Lucia had learned some magic, but she was still basic. And if she was basic, then, of course, Lily would be, too. Lucia would not have been the first basic to have been tutored by a wielder of magic. Although strictly forbidden, there were plenty of rumors about basics learning to use some form of witchcraft or other in a limited fashion.

  Unfortunately, those stories never ended well.

  CHAPTER 14

  ____________________________________

  When I got off the bus, it wasn’t my intention to catch the next bus to Ocean Beach Pier, but as the first bus pulled away, the second approached. I felt an overwhelming urge to connect to my elemental sources. I needed to sort through the mess in my head.

  In one weekend I had gone from a. fighting with a sword, to b. learning of a rebellion led by an Immortal named Chaos, to c. going on a date with a guy I really liked, to d. suspecting my best friend’s mother of learning forbidden magic that might end up killing her.

  Only last week, I had opened a letter that promised a new life, a life for which I had planned and hoped. How did it all flip upside down so quickly?

  A half-moon lurked above, waiting for the night creatures to return.

  I walked a few steps onto the empty pier. The dark waters below sparkled with distorted moonlight. I accepted now that Winter had not only been testing me since that first day at the park but also training me. He wanted me to join the fight against Chaos. Why was I not running for my life?

  A chilly gust of sea air went right through my white cotton cardigan, making me shiver to my bones. Turning around, I rubbed my arms and decided to walk the beach instead. The sand jumped up to tickle my toes.

  As I started to relax a little, a tall man suddenly appeared in my path. He stared into my eyes as his lips worked at a spell. He wore s
ome sort of a black mask that covered the top half of his face.

  Despite appearances, he felt basic. If he was magic, he was doing a superb job hiding his etheric field.

  I looked around to see if we were alone. It was just the two of us. Even if he had brought an army, it would not have mattered. I was not the same girl from that park two weeks ago. Now a bunch of such goons would have been little more than a light practice.

  Channeling my powers, I took a step toward the masked man. I knew that spell on his lips. He was chanting out a fire-ring spell meant to encircle me in flames.

  Seriously? Fire spells? I hate fucking fire spells.

  I raised my hands, turning my palms to the sea.

  “Salacia!” I whispered.

  Drops of saltwater flew across the dark beach to meet my fingertips.

  “Relido!” I ordered.

  The drops fell to the ground and misted, washing away the ring of fire before it could build.

  I stepped over the dying flames, my eyes fixed on the man. His pupils glowed red for a moment and then he began working at a new spell. I was hardly in the mood to break spells all night long, so I stretched my fingers out before recoiling them tightly into fists, gathering pure energy.

  Challenging me next to the largest ocean in the world was a big mistake by any being, but by a basic human it was a total farce. No matter how many spells he had, I had infinitely more.

  I didn’t have to learn magic, I was magic. Young witches were not taught to conjure magic, they were taught to control magic already growing inside.

  The silly man showed no signs of fear. The sizzling energy blasts I was about to hurl at him would teach him otherwise.

  Right before dispensing the brutal lesson, I held back. Winter’s warning echoed in my head. The bastard could be useful at times. I quickly threw a containing shield around us to prevent any magic reverberations from escaping the scene.

  Finally ready to attack, palms aflame and eager to devastate, I heard a strange galloping sound. I spun around to find a huge wolf charging.

  I noticed the beast’s gray fur had been burned in spots as his long, drooling fangs readied to snap shut around my head. A breath away from decapitation, I remembered I had gathered power into my palms and blasted the wolf on the snout, spinning him back through the air.