Chapter Twelve Blood Moon
Ihave my phone with me in my “padded cell.” My online shopping cart is loaded.
A plastic hexagon enclosure to put up around the tree.
It’s a huge expanding baby enclosure that adjusts to give Ari the run of a whole room or just a chunk of it.
I also have Baby’s First Christmas ornaments, stockings, onesies, and gifts for Ari to give to Loretta, like a mug that says My Favorite Person Is: Mommy and a silver pendant with Arianna’s birthstone.
But I can feel the moon rising, even through the layers of concrete and wood.
I slip the phone onto the high shelf, chug water, and slide out of my clothes, finishing with them just as the pain starts.
It’s not a bad pain, not horrific like some movies make it look.
It’s a ripple, like a charley horse that touches each muscle in turn, and things are too tight, and then.
.. They’re not. Muscles and bones shift and stretch, teeth push forward, and the fur.
.. Let’s not talk about the manscaping that I’d need to do.
One and a half doses of my magic potion are making me alert, but relaxed. I pace the floor, unable to sleep and still surprisingly human in my thoughts, which doesn’t always happen. The second night is the worst, the most powerful pressure and pull on the Lycan form.
On the second night, I only think about roaming. Biting.
Except this time, I don’t. I only think about her. Running. In that little red outfit, heading to my cottage. Heading into the woods. Me bounding after her, crouching, lunging, catching. The wolf catching Little Red.
She’s down on all fours under me, but I don’t like it. I want her to face me. Know it’s me. Want me.
I stand.
Sometimes I pace on all fours, but tonight, I stalk on two arched, furry feet, my tail lashing; Long, low snarls whistle past my lips.
I want my mate.
My pup.
I want to be outside, patrolling the perimeter of our den, of Loretta’s nest. I claw at the door, but it’s locked, and my brain, slipping further and further away from human thoughts, doesn’t think about how to open it. I just paw and punch, snarling louder.
I wish the tonic would kick in...
“IT’S GETTING LATE. I should let you get to bed,” Rhea laughs as I smother another yawn. “But I want to come back to capture the perfect Christmas Card pose for you and the baby,” she says, gesturing to the tree.
“I’d love it! It’s a huge tree, I’ve never seen an artificial one so big.
Even with a stepladder, I couldn’t put the decorations on at the top when it was up.
” I drop my voice to share my secret, “I decorated it in two sections, and then I put the top one on. If I’d had a taller step ladder, that would have been perfect. ”
“You’d never know!” Rhea whispers back.
“Thank you so much again for bringing the pie and coming over. It’s been a week since I could talk to any of my friends back home, and I realize I sort of drifted away from most of them before I left, too.”
“I lived in Europe for a long time before finding my way to the States. Back to Manny. We had... We had a difficult start. An arranged marriage, you might say,” Rhea moves back her gorgeous, thick black hair, which is streaked with white.
She reminds me of Lily Munster, or maybe the Bride of Frankenstein.
Her last name is Finklestein. Rhea Finklestein. Mother. Rhea and Gaia are symbols of womanhood—I know that much from my Greek mythology phase in middle school.
And her husband is Manny. Man and woman.
Like Frankenstein and his bride.
I look at Rhea’s face as she’s talking, but I’ve stopped hearing the words. Her skin is so, so pale. White, almost gray. She moves her hair again, gesturing with long fingers.
On a scarred hand.
“I really do need to get to bed,” I blurt, cutting her off.
“I’m so sorry, I was zoning out,” I admit.
I was imagining you were really some undead bride, and your husband was Frankenstein, and that this little town is like some monster-y village, even though I’ve seen dozens of normal people. My mind is clearly overtaxed.
“I understand! Ohh! I’m looking forward to some sleepless nights, to building our family. Lazarus, well, he’s not our son, even though we love him like one, but he’s very much an adult and his own person. And after being alone so long, well, I understand loneliness, my dear!”
I hear the faint trace of an accent. European, but muddled, like she’s been everywhere.
“You will call on us if ever you need anything?” she insists.
I’m being a horrible, paranoid person. “I will. Thank you again, Rhea. Maybe coffee later this week?”
“Yes, that would be lovely! And if you ever need a sitter. Or, even if you don’t, perhaps I could come to you for some advice if we are placed with a newborn?”
“Absolutely!” I reach out and impulsively hug her. She’s so cold compared to me. I rub her shoulders. “You’ll get placed soon, I know it.”
“Your lips to God’s ears,” she laughs, and her smile turns melancholy.
“Um. Want to come check on Ari with me?” I ask.
“Oh, yes!”
I smile, and a weight lifts off my chest. She’s such a nice person. Maybe she does look a little odd. That doesn’t matter, not at all.
WHEN RHEA LEAVES AROUND ten, the house is eerily quiet.
I miss Jasper. I think about going and sitting in the basement, just to hear his voice, but I tell myself that looks super clingy, and I want to be the loving, trusting person I am—with a backbone my sister would be proud of.
I can miss him, but I can’t whimper and mope.
I hear a faint tapping at the door, and my body immediately tenses.
It could be Matt.
That’s crazy. Even if he saw that the papers were from Pine Ridge, it doesn’t mean I’m staying there. And even if he figures I’m here, he won’t know where. Won’t know I’m here, on this street.
Another tap, delicate and polite.
Or did Rhea forget something? She’s only been gone for a couple of minutes.
I look towards the door—and see the pie plate with half a pecan pie still in it, left on the little table in the hall. “I thought she was trying to be sneaky and leave that for Jasper,” I chuckle, hurrying to open the door. “I bet Manny would have had a fit if he didn’t get at least one—”
The words die away as a figure pushes in. Not Rhea.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Jasper!” I let out one shout before Matt’s hand crushes my throat.
“Shut up!”
“How did you find me?” I demand, and all the old fear and temerity creeps back into my veins. I shrink. I hear Sarah telling me to use deadly force if I have to. I hear my father saying he raised me to stand up for myself.
Jasper saying I’m brave.
“Your idiot sister, the one you idolize, because she’s so smart, such a big businesswoman. She’s got a lot of nerve, telling me to get help.”
“Sarah called you?” I squeak. My eyes are darting. I need to hit him.
The pie plate. It’s a deep-dish nonstick metal job. I’ll buy Rhea a new one if I dent it.
“Stop squirming! This is why you always make me so mad! I just wanted to talk, but then you have to go and scream for that weatherman! That big hunk of reporter. Oh, yes, I called Sarah, told her we were having problems, and asked her to talk some sense into you. I thought maybe you’d listen to her, but no.
She’s got her mind turned against me. Tells me you’re in Pine Ridge with some weatherman who cares about you, who protects and appreciates you.
Made some colorful threats that I’ll have to have her take back later, once you’ve put our happy home back together. ”
I die a little bit more inside. I did tell her where I was. I said weatherman.
When you’re in a town with one local station, I guess it wouldn’t be hard to find out the name of the weatherman. It wouldn’t be hard to find his address, either.
“Okay. Let’s talk.” I keep my voice calm, and I try to push Matt’s hands off my shoulders.
No dice. He holds me in place, face close to mine, eyes insane. Beer on his breath. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Not now that I’ve seen his picture on the station website. Not now that I’ve seen his house. You little whore.”
“What? Jasper is just a friend!”
“Right, a friend. But you left and ran to this big, gorgeous house, with a big, gorgeous man.”
“I ran from you!” I shout back. I get loud.
Matt slams me into the wall, and the mirror that hangs over the little hall table falls to the ground with a bang.
How soundproof is Jasper’s room? How loud do I have to scream to get the neighbors to notice?
“You get the baby, and we’ll talk in the car. Go. Move!” Matt shakes me, his fingers digging into my forearms so hard that I feel my fingers starting to go numb.
“You’re hurting me! You said you’d change. Do better. This isn’t better,” I protest. I try to dig my feet in, but I’m in cotton socks, thick white ones that have no traction.
“I would have done better if you weren’t having an affair! I never cheated on you, Loretta, ever! Not even when I hadn’t had any from February to almost the end of June!”
I think about all the times he tried to have sex while I was almost eight months pregnant to eight weeks post-partum. “You mean normal husbandly restraint after your wife gives you a child?” I snap.
Matt doesn’t like it. He looks stunned, then furious. “You have a smart mouth on you that you didn’t use to have. Get from wrapping it around some weatherman’s dick?”
“Ew!” I shriek, and I shove back. “You are sick! You are lying and sick! I never cheated on you, either. I just ran away because you—you’re a wife-beater!”
“I never hit you!”