Moonshine

Chapter 1 Moonshine1

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Being a loner girl is no fun. I’m not technically a loner girl, but on a dismal Friday afternoon when all my friends are holed up in their cozy houses, I get a taste of the life. And, just to repeat myself, it’s no fun. I too could be at home, but with an empty house, there’s no point. Well, it wouldn’t be quite empty. It would be filled with all the miasmic fog that filled my mind on any day like this. I could go over to a friend’s place, but what would be the point? It’s just as easy to feel lonely in a group as it is on your own; you just have to hide it better. 3

So instead of doing the smart thing and glooming on a warm couch, I was out on the drizzly, wet, abandoned street, feeling sorry for myself. It had been an unsmiling day, too, just a day where everything went wrong. Just like that book, Alexander’s horrible, no good, very bad day. And to top it all off, my hair was weird. The rain had made it completely limp. 4

Now some cretin was taking a walk on our street. I could see him approaching through the drizzly mist. As he got closer, I could see why he was out of his house on such a lousy day; he looked like he didn’t have one. The man had one foot, more like one leg, in the grave. Violet patches swam under his eyes, and blood leaked from his torn shirt. Taking two shuddering steps towards me, he fell flat on his face and didn’t get up. 5

My first reaction was shock. What the hell had happened? Why was he here? Who was he? Trying to answer my last question, I turned him over. He looked around my age, and certainly not much older. He also looked terrible. Quite apart from his terrible injuries, his face, and him in general, was thin and gaunt. Long black hair hung lank around his face. And the blood…blood all over. Without thinking, I pulled him off the road, and started lugging him by one of his arms back home. Any smart person would’ve called the police right then and there. But, as years of school had shown me, neither intelligence nor looks are my forte. Besides, he looked so weak and he weighed so little that I probably would not have much of a problem with him anyways. 6

Getting him into the warm hallway was a surprisingly small challenge. He was much to light to be as tall as he was. My mind ran the possibilities through. Abused runaway, homeless orphan…street fighter, killer. All the same, I kept pulling, knowing somehow that I could help him. This was one of the few days I was glad my parents were on a business trip. I just knew they would pitch a fit to rival Mt. St. Helen’s if they saw me doing this. I probably would’ve too if I had been sensible. But, being stupid, I tucked him in on the living room couch. 7

Then I set about making soup. My soup is beef broth plus Ramen noodles plus whatever’s-in-the-cupboard. It can actually not be bad, deepening on what’s in the cupboard. It was just about boiling when I heard a deathly moan.8

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I struggled to the surface of awareness, wondering where I was. I was warm, dry, and tucked into a soft blanket. Maybe I had finally gotten lucky and just died. On the other hand, where I was going probably wasn’t so nice. I fully opened my eyes, moaning as the pain came back to my chest. I was in a nice living room, so obviously not in my house. My house… I moaned again, remembering what I wanted to forget, and I heard footsteps coming down the hallway.10

It was a girl. About my age, sixteenish. Short blonde-brown-silver hair framed her face, and she was wearing a black hoodie-shirt. “Are you all right?” she asked, a nicer question than I had been asked in a while. It was mostly just questions that went unasked out loud, questions written in fear on everyone’s faces. Knowing that this complete stranger was nicer to me than anyone in my whole family made me feel pathetic. If I got my Bible references right, having not read it much, this girl was like the Good Samaritan who helped, while my family members were like those who walked past. Actually, more like those who stabbed him, mugged him, and left him for dead. 11

She was looking strangely at me, and I realized she was looking for an answer. I managed to summon up all my vocal strength and rasp out “Thanks for asking” She slapped her face. “Of course! You need water. Wait just a sec.” I decided to get up and try to show her I was fine. But the damn blanket was clinging to me. I looked down and realized that the gaping hole in my chest had attached it’s self to the blanket. Great. She had been so nice to me and I repaid her by bleeding and pussing all over one of her sheets. She didn’t seem so angry though, on the contrary, she was smiling. 12

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I almost gulped. Golden eyes, or the same tawny yellow as an owl’s. He seemed so embarrassed about the sheet. Frankly, it was a small price to pay for decent company. And if mom or dad noticed the bloody sheets before I had time to wash them, I would just say that it was my “time of the month”. It usually worked.14

As I breezed back into the room, I was struck again by how dead he looked. He wasn’t even trying to get the blanket off him anymore, just lying on the couch. Other than a soft “Thank you” when I passed him his meal, there was very little life. Even when he ate, which I expected him to do like a pig because he was so thin, he barely raised the spoon to his mouth. Once he was done, he lay back against his pillow, exhausted. But I wasn’t having any of that. I wanted answers. “What the hell happened to you? Muggers?” His facial shutters closed. “Family issues.” Huh? The gashes on him looked like he had been in a gang fight, not a family spat. “Is your family entirely human?” 15

Now he looked really haunted, like something I said had hurt them. “Only technically. Only technically.” I realized that something about this had really hurt him. So I tried to move on. “What’s your name?” Not a genius conversation starter, but probably a safe topic unless his name was really dumb, like Murgatroyd. “Lucien Grey. My real family name is Cooper, but Grey sounds better.” He actually smiled “I mean, Lucien Cooper? What kind of name is that?” 16

Thank goodness I had finally said something that wasn’t chronically stupid. “What’s your’s?” “Briony Nightshade. My mom’s favourite book growing up was Atonement. ”17

We had entered into the lovely game of Dull Questions “What’s you’re favourite book?” Oh goody. He had asked me a question that I could answer. “Harry Potter Three,” I answered, my favourite book since I was twelve. “I like those books” he whispered. “It’s nice when good wins over evil.” Several seconds passed, while I tried to figure out what that could mean about him, his life.18

I turned to look at him, and he was out. “Sweet dreams,” I whispered into his ear, then turned away, embarrassed.19

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I knew I should have been sleeping better. I had been through hell and was finally not in it, but my mind wasn’t convinced. Every few minutes, I would give a little spastic twitch and then wake up. Hearing normal sounds, like Briony turning pages of her book, maybe Harry Potter three, reassured me enough to go back to sleep. Until the next time. 21

About the twelfth time, the noises that I heard weren’t normal. Low voices, pitched too harshly to suggest normal conversation. 22

And this time, they weren’t the voices in my head. 23

I raced into the kitchen, ignoring my tearing chest. Briony had given me a home when no one else would, and she wasn’t going to suffer for it. 24

I burst in on an almost frozen tableau. Briony was holding a kitchen knife poised in her left hand. The other presence in the room, that I recognized even better than her, had his hands balled into fists. Damn. Drakken Scarlett. 25

I crossed my clenched fists across my chest. Drakken had screwed up my life enough already, he wasn’t going to wreck someone else’s. He finally seemed to notice me. “Oh, hello, Luce!” he said in his usual charming way, as if he wasn’t breaking and entering. As if he didn’t know how much I hated him, when hate didn’t even come naturally to me. “Piss off, Drakken. This is not my house. You would not be invited even if it were.” 26

Briony was staring at him with an expression of loathing and hatred. This was new ground for charming Mr. Scarlett, who could usually charm any lady he chose. He was a heartbreaker, with his glossy red hair and just enough wit to really annoy me. “Yes, but the company here is so charming.” See what I mean?27

I took a deep breath, 28

“Why are you here?” 29

“Oh, aren’t you going to ask how I found you? I sniffed you out.” Unlike me, Briony did not understand what he was saying, and merely got angrier and angrier. Then she directed her glare at me. “Lucien, what the hell is happening? Is this some kind of gang war? And you, louse, get your sorry arse out of my house right now or I will call the cops!”30

This display of temper brought him back down to business. “Alright, you want to know why I’m here. Simple. You have been calling too much attention to our P- community lately. I am here for you. And the girl.”31

What did Drakan want with her? She was just an ordinary girl whose life I had crashed. And yet… If Drak was interested, maybe there was something interesting. Magic, even. If he didn’t know a magical aura when he saw one, no one did. After all, he spent so much time stealing things with one. And murdering…and blackmailing…“Drakken, we can do business outside, if we have to at all. She doesn’t have to be involved.” That seemed to annoy her even further, because she gave me the evil eye.32

“Fine, then, have it your way.” There was something about the finality of his tone that made me know that something was wrong even before it happened. And it did. In one explosive second, he Changed. Violating everything I knew about the change. It was impossible, not the full moon tonight! But still, his red hair covered his body, and turned into a shaggy pelt. The feral glimmer in his green eyes was magnified a hundred times. And a mocking grin gleamed off of his impossibly moon-white teeth.33

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I couldn’t breathe. My thoughts were on this demented little spiral, like a movie playing over and over again. And the movie was of a man turning into a monster. This just couldn’t happen, except between the pages of a book. A book read in the nice, warm safety of my room. Then I had a sudden, hysterical thought. Maybe this was Lucien’s family and that’s where all his scars came from! I turned to Lucien. He had his fists up in front of him and looking up at…the thing with a clear, steady gaze, and slowly said, “I’m telling you for the last time. Get. Out.” The response was swift and savage. He drove his massive fist at Lucien, leaving red claw marks in his face, a bit like the ones on meat off a BBQ grill. Dead meat.35

All I can remember is fear and fury and adrenalin mixed into one giant ball that exploded out through me. Faster and harder than I would have thought possible, I drove the knife into his stomach, again and again. I was rewarded with a spray of stinging blood, and a howl to wake the dead. Holding his paws over the area wasn’t enough to stem the tide, which seeped through his paws. But he didn’t look hurt enough to run. Go away go away go away-a high, inhuman voice keening inside of me. My desperate, fearful thoughts all concentrated into one wish, wanting him to leave.36

For a moment, he stood stock still, listening to something that we couldn’t hear. Hopefully his master’s dog whistle. His burning eyes glared first at Lucien, then at me. I was transfixed, couldn’t move if I wanted to. If hate could be distilled into a poisonous green cocktail, with a healthy dose of inhumanity and the feral instinct to kill, this would be it. He raced from the kitchen, barreling through the door and Changing as he did so.37

All the adrenalin left me, and I collapsed against the counter. The impossible vision danced in front of my eyes, man, beast, man, beast. I saw Lucien quietly walking towards the door. In a flash, I was in front of it, barring his exit. “I’m a danger to whoever I’m with,” he said softly, wiping fresh blood off his face. “I’ve already put you in too much as it is.” “I don’t give a damn and I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on!”38

He seemed to sag, and looked even wearier than before. “You wouldn’t believe me.” I paused, then started laughing, a harsh, hysterical laugh. “After this, I would believe anything.”39

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There was no choice. I had gotten her into this mess, and I would have to explain it to her. I knew I should have left as soon as I was awake, but it was so comforting to feel safe and cared for. And for once, I felt understood. Now I remembered that no one will ever understand me. I looked at her. Briony was still holding the bloody knife, her hair and face similarly decorated, and looked just a shade off demented. Not that I could blame her. 41

I sighed, knowing I owed it to her. Not that that would make it any easier to tell. “First of all, he is not my friend. He is a...” This would be the worst part. I had no idea how to tell her the truth with out her going OCD like my parents had. “But I’m…well, I’m like him.” For one horrible moment, I thought she didn’t understand and I was going to have to spell it out. Then, the fury on her face changed to blank shock-and fear.42

Now I was truly sick and tired of this look. I got it from every member of my family when we found out, and everyone else that knows. Hatred would have made me happier. Rage doesn’t come often, but it did now, six years worth. “What, you think I wouldn’t trade it for a chance to be normal?! Not one human has trusted me for six years because no one gives a damn about trying to understand. And certainly not my brother, who just chased me out of my house with a knife. Because God forbid that anyone actually care.” All my anger burned out, I felt emptier and more keenly alone. Shunned by those who should have loved me the most.43

The words seemed to echo, hanging in the hallway long after they had been said. Briony looked up from her hands. She didn’t look scared anymore. Only sad. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. Huh? I was the one that had lead a psychopath to her house and had generally screwed up her perception of reality. Then shouted at her. “I wasn’t being fair. I didn’t see you as a person, only as a fear. My temper... I’m not the most tactful person.” She looked up at me, and gave me a twisted smile. Maybe belonging wasn’t such an impossible dream. Finally, I was making one little baby step back to sanity.44

Until someone tried to bash down the door. 45

Chapter 2, Blood or Water?46

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Both of us froze. Lucien’s face was a mask of grayish white - fear. I didn’t know what would make…someone like him afraid, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. 48

Whoever it was pounded again, and I marveled at how amazingly rude people could be. Quietly, with one eye on Lucien’s ashen face, I tiptoed towards the door. 49

The other eye pressed to the spyhole, I whispered back the facts. “Middle aged, short brown hair, completely nondescript face. Suit’s the same colour as his hair. Oh, and some expensive watch, Rolex maybe.” I noted Lucien’s quizzical expression. “Let him in?”50

He shook his head slightly, and the rigid lines of his face relaxed a little. “No idea wha-who he is. Could be one of Drakken’s men.”51

The mention of Drakken’s name made me remember my question from before. “When you heard that knock, you looked more afraid then when you faced down… Who were you expecting to come through that door?”52

“Drakken Scarlett is not a kind man. If he can smell your fear, if you don’t bury it deep, he’s ruthless.”53

My question was being ignored! I repeated it through gritted teeth.54

“My brother.”55

I stared at him, not caring if I was rude. He would rather face off a vicious monster than talk to his brother! His face lost the tiny bit of colour that was left, and his golden eyes wouldn’t meet mine.56

“You weren’t there to see him, how utterly deranged he looked. And I knew the look in his face. The look of an animal fighting, not to wound, but to kill.”57

I bit my lip and joined him in looking down. I had never been this betrayed by anyone before, and it was impossible for me to wrap my head around. But then again, misunderstanding spawns fear and fear often gives birth to hatred. And only God knows where hatred will take the twisted human mind.58

“What do you think he wanted you for? I mean, I know he would love a chance to kill me and all, but why you?” 59

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. My mind had just logged off, and none off the files were saved. I’m out of my mind, back in two minutes. “Probably he’s a player. He looked like one anyway, and he certainly was arrogant enough.”60

Lucien smiled grimly. “Well, that too. But he also is a studier of magical items.” He looked keenly at me, into my silver-grey pond eyes. “Is there any chance-“61

“No. That would be just too strange.” Trying to change the subject, I asked, “So, what are our next plans?”62

“Our? I’m astounded. You haven’t run screaming in terror from me.” Yeah, I was kind of surprised too. Although I still didn’t trust him completely. Maybe the rare sensible side of me was exerting it’s self. It rarely surfaced. “One down, 6 billion to go.” 63

He seemed to think for a moment, and then a slow smile spread across his face, the first I’d seen. Relief, as if something was finally going to go right. “I have a …friend who might know more about this than me. We can meet her somewhere for dinner. Rocherro’s?”64

I looked at him suspiciously. I was more than a little concerned about this “friend” of his, and my fragile trust didn’t stretch very far. Still, I was starving and Rocherro’s was my favourite place. Much better than the last place I went with my friends, Krappy Fattening Cuisine. God, I could feel my arteries clogging as I ate. “Sure. Just call ‘em up.”65

He pulled out a black LG and punched in a few number after a while, and started talking. I noted sourly that his voice got softer. “Hey Alyssa! Wanna hook up tonight?” There was a pause and then “Rocherro’s, at six. I’ve got a friend for you to meet. Bye!”66

Once we had washed the blood of our faces, changed into clothes that weren’t fit to be burned and generally tidied up, we were ready to set off. But that Easter Island statue at the door hadn’t moved an inch though thankfully he had stopped knocking. So we were forced to go out the back door and over the neighbor’s fence, fervently hoping they were away. Racing down the muddy street to catch the bus, I thought a little about what I was doing. It went a little like this: {WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, BRIONY! RUNNING AWAY FROM YOUR SAFE WARM HOUSE ONTO A MUDDY, COLD STREET WITH A WEREWOLF, FOR GOD’S SAKE!} I stopped for a moment to think-then I decided it was better if I didn’t. Besides, I could hear the rusty gears clanking inside my head. But still…how dumb could I be? Lucien chose that moment to yank my arm up onto the bus, and I stumbled against it. The ride stretched into one long silence, with Lucien brooding and me…worrying. 67

I don’t know how I expected Lucien to eat now that he was faced with food other than my crap cooking. Wolfishly, I guess. But he ordered the less than fist sized scoop of gelato, while I ordered a plate of penne. “Aren’t you starving? “68

He paused for a moment, and replied, “I’ve already had dinner.”69

It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about my soup. Now I began to truly worry about him. If he considered that dinner…Then I would have nothing to worry about from him.70

I was just tucking (read: doing a face plant) into the pasta when I heard a voice calling, “Hey Lucien!” Alyssa.71

“Alyssa, this is my friend, Briony Nightshade.” When I had gotten my face out of my pasta, I gave her a friendly smile. But she wasn’t looking at me. Her misty eyes were looking at Lucien, and she slid over beside him in the booth. Amazingly, he gave her a warm, wide smile. I didn’t know that was truly possible. “Hi Briony!” she beamed, looking thrilled to see me. She must be a very kind person, taking to me like that after I crashed her date. And showed up with my own ravioli mask on. 72

“School friend of yours?” 73

“Actually, that’s what I came here to talk about. Something serious happened.” Her eyes clouded over a little more, looked wary for one slight moment.74

Telling his story, Lucien seemed trying to gloss over the fight with his brother. He didn’t mention that he had tried to stab him, or that he had probably been kicked out of the house. He also seemed completely relaxed, eyes almost shut and a small smile on his face, despite the grim storyline. I was relieved, but I also realized that I had acute indigestion. It felt like something was eating its way up through my stomach.75

And as for the fight with Scarlett… He hesitated a little before mentioning it. As it flowed from his lips, she began to look a little disbelieving. {Stupid Bimbo. I believed him, why not her?} Even though she had been so nice earlier, the sight of her face irked me.76

It crossed my mind that I was being a tad unfair.77

When she looked after his story, her face had hardened. “Everyone knows about your Scarlett vendetta. Does it ever cross your mind that I’m one too?78

Maybe not.79