Chapter 25 Luna
Chapter Twenty-Five
Luna
It’s hard to open my eyes when I hear the noise, but I force myself awake.
The rustling sound of creased fabric, the faint squeak of leather; this tells me that I am no longer alone in the pitch black.
But I am not afraid, because I can smell Shadow close by. I adore how his clothes and skin create a strange perfume that stimulates my memory. One sniff and I can turn back time.
I am a small child, lying on the carpet in my bedroom surrounded by my favorite toys. And when I press my face against the soft cotton fur and breathe in, I get a sense of calm and happiness.
Old, musky, slightly dirty and dusty—the smell of every childhood dream as the beloved toy lies tightly hugged in my arms.
The big bottle of Bovril tea is empty. Shadow moves it to the floor as he crawls onto the bed beside me.
“Mornin’, sweetheart. How do you feel?”
All the better for waking up with you.
I’m too shy to say it out loud because the other bikers are rustling into the crawlspace, too. It might be a while before I can forget the ruthless efficiency with which they dispatched poor Jake Farmer.
“Mmm-huh.” There is no way I am going to open my mouth and blast Shadow with my morning breath. And I need to use the bathroom.
Rolling off the edge of the cot and crawling to the panel—the flashlight battery is dead and there is no way I could find it in the dark anyway—I go outside. Only when I am sure none of them can inhale the whiff from my stale mouth do I reply.
“I’m feeling good, really I am. I’m going to the marina to fetch the ingredients from Mr. Pruitt.”
“You go do that, Miz Luna,” one of them says from inside.
The panel slides shut with a click. I hear the deep rumble of their voices behind the panels.
When I press my ear against the wood, I can hear that they are discussing how long it will take for the Landslide residents to find Jake’s body. Ugh.
The inn has only four double bedrooms with bathroom en suite. The rest is shared accommodation. Two sharing, four sharing, and two eight-sleeper dormitories with bunk beds. I think I should put blackout drapes in one of the private rooms so that Shadow and I can sleep there.
When I look at the office notice board, I see that Shadow has already made “X”s on the calendar, blocking out the beds and days he has allotted to the people who wrote us letters.
I wonder what it is that brings tourists to Landslide? What is the appeal that I missed when I first arrived?
And now I never want to go back to my manic city life, because that would mean leaving my heart behind.
Time for me to get back home and spark up my phone and read some online reviews about the chalet inn. Shadow promised the residents that the connectivity for thirty percent of the time would be up and running. I bet Tinder is doing excellent business off these lonely men.
The kitchen is communal, large enough to cope with at least ten people bustling around during suppertime. After opening and closing a few cupboards, I find the round black jar of Bovril. It tastes weird, but there is something in it that replenishes my blood like no steak ever could.
Muohta is waiting for me by the hatchback, curled into a ball and using his tail like a pillow.
He woofs to let me know the car is safe. I’m touched he stayed by me all night, because I know how much Mu enjoys snoozing on the couch close to his bowl of kibble.
That rising feeling of excitement isn’t because I am going home. It’s exhilarating to know I can use my phone again.
I missed the damn device, I really did!
I have my homecoming ritual down pat. Kick off shoes in the entrance hall. Pour fresh food and water for Muohta. Run upstairs and flick on the hot water faucet so the gas has time to heat up. And now—drum roll please—turn on my phone.
I forget the running hot water as I flip through my apps, changing my status to “currently not available” and updating my messages.
By the time I remember the faucet is open, the bathroom is steamy and the walls are dripping with moisture.
Damn. In a frenzy of communication, I decide to chat with Tallie as I shower.
“Hey, stranger. I thought you had gone off the reservation and joined a cult.” I smile at my friend’s casual greeting. It’s hard to believe I have been gone for less than two weeks.
“Please excuse the shower sounds, Tal. I’m multitasking. Oh my God, girl. It is so nice to hear a friendly voice.”
“Your dad called me a few days back to verify the message you left on his answering service. He sounded… I dunno, curious?”
I’ve lived for my art for so long, I can understand my dad’s concern. I’ve always been driven when it comes to achieving my ambitions. But now those goalposts have shifted.
“I’ll call him right after. Hey, just checking that none of my clients have been in touch.”
All of my mosaic installations come with a lifetime guarantee of quality craftsmanship. I’ve had a few clients take me up on my restoration promise, but it has never been because of a fault in my work. It’s usually due to external damage.
A bottle of champagne thrown at a cheating husband’s head.
An exploding bottle of ketchup.
I’ve even had to meticulously clean spilt blood off a lobby wall after two prizefighters got into it at a press conference.
“Nope. And your website says that you are no longer accepting commissions. Thanks for the letter by the way, although I don’t think much of your stationary.”
I thought there was so much I wanted to tell my friend, but now that we’re actually chatting, I realize I can’t share the details of my emotions or my new life.
Bike gang. Motorcycle club. Crazy cousin. Vampire lover. I can’t drop words like that and expect my friend not to worry. Or not to call the authorities.
“The general store doesn’t exactly offer customized shopping, Tallie.”
We giggle together like old times.
Being on Landslide has cut me off from the human experience. Coffee shops. Movie theaters. Having a picnic in the park.
Am I ready to say goodbye to my simple city life forever? Two weeks ago, that would have been a hard pass from me, but my outlook has undergone a seismic shift.
“Have you got a pen, Tal? I need you to take down these details.”
I shampoo my hair as my friend goes to fetch a pen. I imagine Tallie rummaging around in the drawers, and I smile. My Twin Cities studio holds fond memories.
“Okay. Got one. Shoot.”
“These are my bank card details, Tal, so make sure you write them down accurately.”
I know all my card numbers and codes by heart. My dad told me it would help to be able to recall bank numbers if I ever needed to cancel my cards after my phone was stolen.
Tallie repeats the account information back to me.
“Yes. And now I need you to buy something for me. And here’s the thing, Tal.
I do not care how much it costs. ‘Kay? I’ll text you the details.
Make sure it is genuine. Get a specialist to verify the item before you pay for it.
In fact, you have my permission to fly to the place with the specialist to get it authenticated before you buy it. Right?”
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap my wet hair in the hand towel before shrugging into my towel robe. Wiping my fingers on the fabric, I tap the information into the message app and press send. I hear Tallie’s phone ping and wait for her to confirm she’s got it.
My phone is dripping with condensed droplets of steam. Rubbing the screen with my sleeve, I hear Tallie confirm.
“Fuck, Luna, why do you want to buy this shit? This is so not like you.”
“It’s a surprise, Tallie, but it’s also hella important.
You have my entire life savings at your disposal, babes, so go nuts.
And please hurry. Start sourcing them today and set up appointments to view the items tomorrow.
When you have it, courier it to Angle Inlet.
I will send the ferryman to pick it up in three days’ time. ”
“It’s your funeral, Luna,” Tallie scoffs with disbelief. “I’m interested in buying your apartment, by the way, do you—”
“Friend, you can stay in my apartment if you agree to pay the mortgage. I’ll send you the deets. I trust you. But I don’t have time to deal right now. I love you so much for helping me like this. Gotta go. Love you. Bye.”
Tallie says bye and we disconnect.
It feels as if I am disconnecting from my mainland life, too, as I transfer Shadow’s note from my old bra into my fresh one.
Time for me to call my dad. Just in case.
Vince Pruitt comes up from the cabin when he hears my voice. Touching his cap, he asks what he can do for me.
We both politely ignore the fact that we were part of an angry bloodthirsty mob out for justice yesterday.
“I came by to pick up those ingredients you keep in stock for my aunt, Mr. Pruitt. And please order some more, enough for winter.”
He scratches the top of his head before sliding his cap back in place.
“Calling me Vince is fine. And you should know I don’t order this stuff, Miz Luna. Just so we’re clear. It falls off the back of a crime laboratory trolley in not so many words.”
“No, I get it. Tempest and Shadow explained it to me. Thank you.”
I walk with Vince to the hatchback and open the trunk door for him to load the ingredients. “Please stay available for Friday, Mr. Pruitt. I mean, Vince. I need you to take the boat over to Angle Inlet for me and pick up a delivery.”
He makes a note on one of those small pads with a miniature pencil threaded through the binder. “Mind if I take your boat, Miz Luna? Give the old girl a run to test the battery before we get frozen in. I can teach you some more about how to use the two-way radio if you like.”
Such a kind offer, but Vince tried to show me how those stupid two-way radios worked before, and it went in one ear and out the other.
I mean, honestly, what a stupid system. To shout aimlessly into a speaker and pray that someone is listening on the other side.
And don’t get me started on how much my creative brain hates all that shit about frequencies and bandwidth!
“Some other time, Vince. But thanks.”
Muohta jumps into the car and sits in the passenger seat like a fluffy bodyguard.
“Next stop, the inn, Mu.”
I want to get the equipment prepped and brewing before this evening comes around.
Is it silly of me to want to please Shadow with the news that a batch of his favorite fluids is on the way?
Me, the least domesticated person in the world, suddenly eager to show off my skills in the kitchen to my fierce lover.
Shaking off the suspicion that Shadow couldn’t care less about my labor of love, just so long as he gets his hands on fluids, I get cracking.
I accomplish quite a lot in the time I have, despite having to break off in the middle of the afternoon to go eat lunch and drink more Bovril.
I will need Shadow’s help to drain the correct amount of blood out of me so that I can mix it with the enzymes, but something tells me he will make it painless and quick.
After that, I need to collect my lunar cycle blood.
Only then will I be safe from ending up the same as Linda Farmer.
It is so creepy to think our fingers touched that day she handed me the keys to this house. One week later, Linda is dead. So is Jake. Landslide is a mess because of Wulf.
Nothing much I can do about it now. Best I crack on with the brew first before planning my Wulf-oriented exit strategy.
Shoveling my late lunch into my mouth and chewing fast, I am in seventh heaven playing on my phone once I have turned off the location tracker.
I look up the word “incubus.”
“A demon who takes on the shape of a handsome man so that he can have sex with women while they sleep…”
Ugh.
I must check there is enough time for the courier to deliver the package to Angle Inlet before Vince goes to fetch it.
And then I see it. The only place I mark the date of my period—the calendar on my phone.
With feverish fingers, I count the day of my last period backwards.
With all the stress of moving and adapting to my new life on Landslide, I completely forgot when my period was due.
“Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty…”
It’s impossible. There is no way it’s been forty days since the first day of my last period. What about the blue tinge I always get around my mouth? The purple tint I always get under my eyes. I have got that right now.
“Google, you better tell me what’s going on.”
Muohta looks up from the couch and wants to know if I’m talking to him.
“Ignore me, Mu. I am so stressed, I might start swearing up a storm just now.”
Okay. Be calm. I was definitely not with anyone during my fertile window—fourteen days after Day One. I hadn’t even met Dante then.
My search finally hits a page.
Reasons for a skipped period. Yadda, yadda, yadda. No need for me to worry about pregnancy. So, what is it?
Significant amounts of weight loss can cause the body to halt the menstrual cycle in order to conserve blood and nutrients.
Similarly, blood loss after trauma or illness will prohibit the female reproductive cycle from continuing its regular rhythm until the female has regained a normal blood count.
Rushing to the bathroom, I open the cabinet. There it is. An unopened box of sanitary products. Leaning on the basin, I try not to get scared. But my heart won’t stop palpitating like a drum.
There is no way I can keep Wulf away from me now. Not as long as Shadow shows his vampiric adoration for me the way he loves to do.
Reaching for the mouthwash, I get ready to go back to the inn. I have to tell Shadow what’s wrong. If I use my blood to make fluids, it will leave me even more vulnerable to an attack from Wulf, because my periods might never come back.
Rinse and repeat. The cool liquid swirls around my mouth. The mundane action brings me serenity.
Place the mouthwash back on the shelf and shut the cabinet door—
When I look at my reflection in the cabinet mirror, I am not alone.
The dark face from my nightmares is standing right behind me.