Luna
SAWYER
The horn still echoes in my skull as Angel and I join the flood of bodies moving toward the square.
Feet slosh through snow, confused voices murmur low.
Everyone wants to know what it means this time, but no one dares ask.
If I hadn’t just been at the Hearth, I might be worried, but the antibiotics are working.
Not immediately, not enough, but working.
No child has died, so this is to announce something else. I have my fingers crossed for some tragic end for their Chief Elder.
The square looks different when it’s full of dread. Like the whole Sanctum is holding its breath in one place. The air carries a mix of stale sweat and human heat, the noise of shifting feet and whispered theories.
I fold my arms as I scan the crowd, but Angel doesn’t bother trying to solve this mystery. His head is somewhere else. It’s been there for days.
“Your head’s gonna explode if you keep thinking that hard.” I nudge him with my elbow.
He blinks several times as he returns to the present. “What?”
I frown and lean in closer. “We just left a building full of kids smiling because they feel better than they have in days.”
“Not all of them,” Angel deadpans, his face so much more hardened than I know he feels.
“Enough of them.”
Angel turns to me with a glare. “This isn’t one of those glass-half-full kind of times, Sawyer.”
I let my shoulders sag and glance around. No one is paying attention to us. “Enough to know what we’re doing is working. Enough to know it’s going to be okay. It’s treatable. Everyone’s gonna be all right.”
Angel doesn’t say anything. I hope that’s because he’s giving my words credit.
He’s been sick for days over this, and if one single child leaves this world, I fear what that’ll mean for him. He’s the type of man to carry demons.
“I’ve known you a long time,” he says, eyes drawing ahead. “You expect me to believe you became an optimist since the island?”
I don’t answer.
“You probably have twenty different scenarios mapped out in your mind.” He scoffs, but it isn’t angry. It’s sad. Defeated. Even if everything turns out okay, he’ll carry this with him.
I tip my head side to side. “Twenty-six. Give or take.”
One hundred three.
Angel’s lips tip up the slightest bit. No humor. Still sadness.
“How many of them involve me getting caught?”
If he knew all the contingencies I’ve made if that were to happen, I’m not sure he’d feel better. I’m pretty sure he’d feel worse.
No one is going to suspect Angel. We weren’t here when the Dregs started getting sick, and no one but Luna is smart enough to connect any dots.
But if they did… I have escape routes. Alternative theories as to what really happened, evidence planted that would acquit him. He’d be all right.
“How many do you want there to be?”
He doesn’t answer, but it isn’t because he’s thinking. He knows. I know.
I let out a deep sigh. “You know if something happened to you, I’d have to take care of Liberty… I hope you’re not thinking about sticking me with that vicious bitch.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and flicks his eyes at me. “You couldn’t handle her back then. You really think you could handle her now?”
“After dealing with ‘the Guardian of the Night’ the last few months, sure, I think I could take her.”
Angel’s chuckle turns the head of the woman in front of us. When I nod at her, she turns back around.
“Look at you with a sense of humor,” I murmur.
“I imagine my sense of humor is better than the albino’s.”
“Luna.”
Angel looks at me. “Hm?”
“Her name… It’s Luna.”
“So you’ve said.”
I open my mouth, ready to defend Luna, but… I’m not even sure how. It seems ridiculous to ask Angel to tiptoe around the insecurities of the person who enslaved his wife. The second time.
I close my mouth and pretend to look for something on the empty stage.
“You love her… Don’t you?”
Silence passes between us, but he doesn’t go on or press. He’s not kidding. He’s not teasing. He’s serious.
“Is it that obvious?”
“To the general public, no. To me, yeah. Kind of.”
My lips purse as I nod. “Caught me doodling her name, huh?”
“Mm, no. You’re pretty careful about not mentioning her. But you’re also really fucking good at weaseling your way in and out of whatever you want. You shouldn’t still be here.”
“The kids are sick.”
“You could’ve let me handle it.”
“I wouldn’t have left you here.”
Angel chuckles, but it’s low enough not to turn heads this time. “Of course you would have… I love you, man. I do. But you’re not one for self-sacrifice."
“I’ve got a body full of burn scars that says otherwise.”
“You’ve got a body full of scars that prove you feel guilt. That’s not the same. I’m not saying you’re a bad person, I’m just saying you’re only a hero when your conscience wants you to be.”
I shake my head as if he’s wrong, though my shoe kicking at the ground shows my nerves. I still my body and try not to be offended. Try not to fight against the comment.
Because it’s true. Luna once pointed it out to me.
I’m selfish. I am.
“My point isn’t to shit on you,” Angel says, his shoulder bumping mine. “I’m saying I love you. And I’ve never been prouder of you.”
My brow creases.
He shrugs.
“If the albino bitch really did lure you here, manipulate you, beat you, force you to traffic women, stick a bomb around your neck and dump you in the middle of nowhere with a guy who wants to strangle you… Then I’d say you’re a better man than I am.
Liberty is the love of my life, and I’m thinkin’ at least one of those things is grounds for divorce. ”
Wiping my hand down my face, I fight a smile. “It’s Luna.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
When I look at him, he’s smiling.
“You know, it’s fitting that I hate your girl when you’re a prick to mine.”
“Liberty is a pain in the ass, and you know it.”
“Luna is a mass murderer.”
“Liberty is…” I try to think of something to finish the thought, but he’s got me. It’s hard to top that.
I wonder what kind of jokes he’d make if he knew how many times she assaulted me.
I shake my head and let a crooked smile creep onto my lips. “Okay, you win.”
“I know.” Angel’s grin lingers even as his eyes stay sharply on the stage.
I glance at him, and something winds behind my sternum. Maybe it’s the horn still echoing in my skull. Maybe it’s the crowd pressing too close. Or maybe it’s just knowing we won’t get many more moments like this.
“I love you too,” I say, plain as anything.
His head tips just enough for me to catch the flicker of emotion, so deep you know there are mountains of pain behind it. He clears his throat and lets his lips settle into a smirk. “I know.”
Before I can say anything else, movement ripples through the crowd. The bodies part, and a hush sweeps like a cold wind.
Aurelius mounts the platform with Raven at his side. I look toward the direction they came to find Luna trailing far behind.
Aurelius looks… good. Too good. His stride is steady, his color is back, his face is painted with a smug calm.
I wish I could say I’m surprised to see him healthy, but… No.
Turning my head, I watch Luna until she disappears into the crowd.
The square falls utterly silent. The dread in the air somehow intensifies, and I feel the shift like static crawling down my arms. Whatever’s about to happen, it won’t end with relief.
Aurelius spreads his hands like the false prophet he is.
“Brothers. Sisters. Children of the Shadow Sanctum.” His voice carries clear as a bell, full of practiced gravity. “Thank you for hearing me today. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Again, I search for Luna, but I’ve lost her.
“Some of you have felt sickness in your homes. Some have lost faith. You’ve whispered questions, doubted my leadership. I hear you.” He presses a hand to his chest with mock sincerity. “And I grieve with you.”
I bet you fucking do.
“But grief is not without cause.” His voice sharpens. “The wells have been tested, and I’m afraid my daughter Raven has found the source of illness to come from nefarious intentions. Intentions meant to weaken your faith and undermine my leadership.”
“Father!” a girl screams as she sprints toward the stage. Her voice is strangled with worry or grief or both, which twists the stomach of a hundred people all at once.
People step back to make room for Echo, one of Luna’s sisters, to run to the stage. She doesn’t climb it, instead she grinds to a halt and points the way she came. In the direction of the Hearth.
“It’s Annabelle,” she cries out loud enough for all to hear. “She’s dead.”
A collective gasp erupts. Hands fly to chests, people turn to meet the horror-stricken faces of their loved ones. Beside me, Angel stiffens. We’re thinking the same thing.
Please don’t let her be a child.
“This was found in her soup.” Echo holds something out that a Keeper brings to Aurelius. I squint to see, but I don’t know what it is until he holds it up like a smoking gun.
It’s a … capsule. A pill capsule.
“What is that?" Angel asks me, voice secretively hushed despite everyone else asking the same question.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Or at least, I don’t understand.
“Brothers and Sisters… I owe you my deepest condolences.”
“What’s going on?” Someone at the back screams.
“What is that?”
“What’s happening?!”
“One of our own has broken our rules by bringing Western medicine into our home. Western medicine that has just caused the death of our dear Nurturer and friend. Western medicine that wouldn’t be tolerated even by those of wavering faith if the sickness hadn’t been intentionally brought in.”
Hushed voices raise to normal volumes as people try to understand or at least digest what Aurelius is saying.
I turn to Angel and cup his shoulder before leaning in. My mouth opens to tell him he needs to leave. Now. Because my racing heart is certain Aurelius has figured it out.
But the pill capsule has me silent.
Because the antibiotics didn’t come in capsules. We had to grind them up.
Which means it was planted. As a setup. Not for Angel, but for…