Black Moon Draw (37 page)

“Hello?” I call to no one. There’s nothing unusual or out of place that indicates I’m still in the book. Fear catches up with me, along with desperation. “I can’t be here! Send me back! I have to save him!”

The neighbor’s alarm clock is going off and one of my cats meows and leaps onto the back of the couch.

“Tuna?” I pick him up. The downy gray fur of my oldest cat makes me shiver. His purr rattles against my fingers, the lean body and softness only making my confusion worse.

How can I be here? Did I get sent back? If so,
why
? Because it was too late to save the world and I got booted?

Or . . . is
this
the illusion created by the curse? Another trial?

“I don’t understand.” There’s no doubt it’s my apartment.

If the story on Wattpad has been updated, I can find out what’s supposed to happen next.

A heavy emotion I can’t yet name is unraveling in my breast. My hands tremble with urgency and dread at the thought of discovering my adventure is over or worse – the Shadow Knight is truly dead.

Setting Tuna down, I pat the chair in front of my computer desk to make sure it, too, is solid then sit heavily. Nudging the mouse to wake up my computer, I check the date and frown. It’s the morning after my drinking bout. Less than nine hours have passed.

“That’s not possible,” I mumble in a scratchy voice. I lean forward to touch the wall before me, not sure how it can be solid when I saw it morph into existence out of nothing.

Staring blankly at the computer screen, I notice one of my minimized apps is blinking. It’s a chat app.

“Who did I message last night?” I murmur and click on it. I gasp. “LF!”

Scrolling to the top of the conversation, I lean forward and read the exchange eagerly, seeking clues as to what I’m supposed to do now.

Hey LF- Whats takin so long with the story? It’s not like you have to do research. Its made up right? And why don’t you have a proofreader? You know how to spell coincidenc? I can help you. I’m a librarian. I like books and I hate my life coz my bf dumped me for a diff girl but I can proofread good.

“Holy hell, Naia,” I mutter, my cheeks hot. I have no idea why she responded to that drunken disaster. Although, I have to admit, for being drunk, it’s not the worst message I’ve ever sent. Thoroughly embarrassed, I read her response.

Hello, Naia78! I’m so sorry to hear about your boyfriend. That’s great that you’re a librarian. Are any of my books in your library? I can send you a few, if you want! Sorry about the typos – I’ll get better about those. You know I have a character in Black Moon Draw named Naia? What an awesome coincidence (spelled correctly this time, right?) LOL

“Omigod I love this lady,” I say, relieved she doesn’t think I’m batshit crazy. Of course, my next message makes me wish she’d ignored me.

My name is Naia too! Maybe you can put me in a book! I can chop off heads with shadow Night and maybe jason’s head. I hate my life. You are so lucky – you think of good books that make life better. I just read. I don’t even have a car. That’s how bad life sucks. I wish I could start over . . . find out who I am . . . go somewere happy . . . find a good man. . .

The warrior queen of Black Moon Draw said she had asked for a new life. It looks like, in a drunken stupor, I did as well. My eyes water. I wipe them and continue reading. LF’s next response causes me to squeak.

The worlds I write are so real to me. I think sometimes they might actually exist. LOL How silly is that? But I’d be happy to put you in a book, Naia.

In fact, I need a heroine for Black Moon Draw, someone who can save the Shadow Knight and his people from certain destruction. Sound like somewhere you’d like to go?

My breath catches. I reread it. “So she did send me there and I’m supposed to save him.” Grappling with the revelation, I can’t help feeling even more perplexed by what the hell is going on. “Why am I here? Did I miss my chance?” I seek some sign my apartment is an illusion and find nothing but familiarity in my surroundings.

Technically, we did exactly what was needed to break the curse. The Shadow Knight conquered eight kingdoms and had the sworn allegiance of the remaining two before his last breath. Then, I went to face the magic at the heart of Black Moon Draw and ended up . . . here.

There’s nothing but two smiley faces – one from me and the final from LF – in the message. No instructions or additional details about what she was planning to do next.

I sit back and stare at the messages, unable to believe I volunteered to be a book character. I had no way of knowing it was
real.
Rereading her responses, I search for clues as to what I’m supposed to do now, how I can help the Shadow Knight.

How to get back. My hand hovers over the mouse and I examine the churning instincts that are all too aware of how little time the Shadow Knight’s world has.

Pulling up the story on Wattpad, I’m astonished to see LF has added so many chapters. I skim through them as fast as I can, even more alarmed to see
my
adventure in Black Moon Draw written, word for word, detailing every thought, word, and tear, by an author I’ve never met before, who doesn’t even have a website.

Hurrying to the latest, and last entry, I flip urgently to the final page, and any hope of finding out what happens next crashes.

“Fare thee well, Naia,” the Red Knight says and releases my hand.

It’s the last line of the story so far. Slamming my hands on the desk, I curse loudly enough to make Tuna back away and then click the chat window open again to see if LF is online. She’s not, but I send her a message anyway. If she didn’t think I was crazy last night, she will this morning.

How do I get back
?
Was any of it real?

Clicking send, I stand, restless and scared, my thoughts racing almost as fast as my heartbeat.

“What if it is just a book?” I shake my head and look around my apartment. “This is real life. How awful!” Am I going crazy? Was I crazy to believe I went to another world? The oppressiveness of my existence settles over me, a reminder of how much I’ve come to hate my life.

How can I possibly rescue a man when I’ve lost my magic?

“It’s not real, Naia,” I grate. “None of it is! You don’t have any magic!”

There’s a part of me that argues it’s stupid for me to be so emotionally invested in
fiction
.

The part of me that
lived
it, and knows Black Moon Draw is more real to me than this life ever has been, roars in response. I’ve been there! I know it exists. I know
he
exists! A man who leaves me as confused as he does turned on, whose touch makes me quiver and who I crave more than all the chocolate in the world. I can’t think more than two seconds about him without epic euphoria and primal lust.

I’m also wearing the clothes I wore in Black Moon Draw, the only physical proof, aside from the scent of our lovemaking on my skin.

I go to a window, recognizing the cityscape visible for miles. I can’t stand the warring feelings tearing me apart, the instinct urging me to find a way back to him and the satisfaction of having hot water again. Unable to reconcile what the hell is going on, I finally flip out, the pent up anger, frustration, and fear getting the better of me.

Tearing off the clothing of a world that doesn’t exist, I fling it across the living room with a shriek of pure anguish.

Just when I start falling in love with my favorite kind of Hero – nobly flawed and redeemable, a man who thought I was beautiful, who helped me believe in myself for once instead of criticizing me, whose courage may have saved an entire world – the world ends. I can’t go back to being normal, to grocery store runs, the library, and hiding away in my apartment while waiting for another Jason to enter my life and string me along.

The tears start and I drop onto the couch, sobbing. Traumatized when I woke up in a different world, I’m equally horrified to realize I’d rather be someone special in a place that doesn’t exist than no one in reality.

I cry until I’m exhausted then blearily go to my bedroom and pull on a pair of my favorite yoga pants and a t-shirt. I replace my Black Moon Draw boots and decide they look pretty chic with the yoga pants tucked in.

Rubbing my face, I try to figure out what to do. I can’t let Black Moon Draw go. I can’t let
him
go. Unable to meekly accept my place in this world the way I would have a week before, I return to the one thing that might help me. A different kind of sorrow is settling into my chest, one that aches too much for tears. I’m hollowed out, empty, useless.

“He wouldn’t give up. I can’t either.” But god, do I feel like it!

Sitting in front of my computer, I begin to read the unfinished tale of Black Moon Draw, reliving every emotion and adventure from the beginning. I sob when I read the parts between the Shadow Knight and me, able to see in fiction what I couldn’t living it – that we’ve been meant to be together since the beginning. I smile at my interactions with my squire and wistfully decide, should we meet again, I’ll sit down to learn more about him. He’s smart and brave, if ill prepared to be a warrior.

As I read, I search for clues I might’ve missed, hints at what I’m supposed to do next or how I can return. Sitting up straight, I reread the passages from my dream of the warrior queen.

“Why is it called a Heart?” I ask.

She swipes at her tears and lowers the medallion, stepping away. “’Twas the nickname my husband gave me. I was his heart, his love, his queen. This was fashioned as a wedding present. Magic molded this gem, but our love gave it power.”

The words reverberate around my skull. The Red Knight had been ordered by Brown Sun Lake to capture the Heart.

The Shadow Knight of a thousand years ago had given the magic of the world to his Heart.

My hand goes to where the medallion hung at my chest. Magic still worked for me, albeit even less reliably, after the medallion was destroyed. How was that possible?

I was his heart, his love, his queen..
The warrior queen had said.

“The Heart of Black Moon Draw,” I whisper aloud. “It’s not a medallion. It’s a
person
.”

It’s me, the only person who can break the curse, who can make a nonexistent world exist, because I believe enough for it to be. The clues to the true power I possess have been in front of me all along.

But am I too late?

Standing, I return to where I entered my apartment from Black Moon Draw and begin looking for the door to return. It has to be here; I stepped into that world from my apartment and returned here. I push open the door to the bathroom. It’s definitely my bathroom, down to the litter box beside the sink.

I’m not sure if hope or pure terror is building inside me, but it ignites my adrenaline once again and dashes my sorrow. I ransack my place, opening every cabinet, closet, crawlspace and kitty hiding spot, down to the ottoman that acts as storage, seeking some way back to where I belong.

There’s nothing. Breathing hard, I stand in the middle of my apartment, mind racing.

Ding.
I look back at my computer and see the chat window blinking once more. I trip over the magazine rack I dumped in the middle of the floor and eagerly seize the mouse to click the chat window open.

An author creates a world. The reader brings it to life. If you want Black Moon Draw to exist, it will. You are the heart of this story. It’s totally up to you!
LF’s message reads.

I’m right. I am the Heart, the reason Black Moon Draw exists, the key to it surviving. A second message pops up.

Oh, as for how to get back . . . try the front door. It usually works LOL

“Dammit, Naia!” The one door I didn’t open, assuming it’d lead straight into the hallway. I don’t bother to respond but go to the front door and stare at it.

My body hums with anxious energy. “This is my story,” I whisper. To break the curse, to save
him
, I must open the door and go home. If I don’t believe enough to do it, Black Moon Draw ceases to exist.

I have a choice between two worlds, one that makes me feel alive and one where I’m a mushroom.

There was a time where I would’ve given anything to return to my apartment and boring life. Standing on the ledge, getting ready to jump into the unknown, uncertain if he’ll be there to catch me, if
anything
will be left of Black Moon Draw . . .

“I don’t care,” I whisper. “I’m not a mushroom anymore. I’m not a coward either, Atreyu. This is what I want. I want the curse broken, the fog gone and for you to see . . . the blue sky.” I stop, struggling not to cry. “My heart belongs in Black Moon Draw.”

A meow reminds me that I can’t just leave my cats. Blinking away tears, I retreat from the doorway and gather up my cats in their carriers. Tuna immediately starts to yowl.

“Hush! We’re going someplace better!” I tell him. Locking the cage, I return to my computer and pull up my email. There’s no way I can explain this all to my mother, so I tell her not to worry, that I love her, and I’ve finally figured out what I want with my life. “Hopefully I can come say hi again someday.” Saddened at leaving her, I’m nonetheless convinced more each moment that this is what I am meant to do.

Clicking send, I stand and go to the door, gathering the three carriers.

Resting my hand on the doorknob, I hesitate one more time. “Black Moon Draw exists. It always has. It always will.” Please let it be there. If I open the door and see my hallway, I’ll never recover.