BloodMoon (6 page)

“Well, that’s how it feels sometimes.”

“Just because that’s how your father modeled the religion you grew up in, not because that’s the way it is.”

Interesting that Elle was supporting the party line, but she
was
older and more small-town traditional.

“Maybe it’s because all the men in my life are screwed up.”

“And most of the women. You’re looking for something to blame. I didn’t know you felt that impotent.”

“I think disempowered is a more appropriate term.” My sister sighed. “Anyway, so far it’s just research. Besides, I’m probably just a hearth witch anyway.”

“Have you done any of these spells?” Elle asked as I heard a rustling of pages and noticed the latest addition to Amber’s cooking shelf was missing. I poured JR his cereal and added the disgusting fat-free milk she fed him. I mean, seriously, what was the point, if you’re going fat free con lece; you might as well use the powdered stuff. Besides, kids need calories. I mean, look at me and Amber? We grew up on raw milk from a local dairy and we were both athletic and fit.

“Only a couple.”

“Only a couple? Like which ones?”

I guess that’s a lawyer thing to repeat the last words in a conversation, or what was coming from the witness stand in an interrogation.

“Just the tea of tranquility. It’s supposed to be good for Ashlee’s PTSD.”

That bitch. So she
was
trying to medicate me after all.

Amber went on, “And the somnambulance snifter.”

Elle choked. “You put a potion in my brandy?”

“You have been sleeping much more restfully lately. Better than taking Xanax.”

“That’s true, but not the point. You wouldn’t put drugs in my food without permission, so why are potions okay?”

“Because they’re made with love.”

“It’s not about love in this case; it’s about respect, woman! No more dosing me without telling me.”

“Or me either!” I yelled from the laundry room where I’d taken my eavesdropping to the next level.

I heard the garage door open amid mumbling, and the girls got into the Lexus and drove off.

“Sucks to be a grown-up, doesn’t it?” JR said from behind me, though how he got the drop on me I’ll never know.

“Yeah sport. Sometimes it indubitably does.” I went back to the kitchen to fix us some more cereal. After all, I was still in my pajamas. Ah, the writer’s life.

“I’m bored.” JR said, voicing what most of us were thinking as we stared at whatever mindless entertainment was being offered on the boob tube. Yes, I did call it that, even though there aren’t as many boobs on American television as there are in other countries, and there actually are no more tubes in televisions, I think. Or maybe the boobs were the ones watching.

Will turned to me and said, “Let’s go cruising.”

Before I had a chance to say anything in response, JR crowed, “Yeah! Woohoo! We’re going cruising! American Graffiti style!” and went to put on his shoes. He’d been raised on that movie, as – did I tell you this before? – George Lucas had filmed it in nearby Modesto, and its success had given him enough juice to have Star Wars made, another of JR’s favorites, of course.

“What a great idea!” Amber turned to Elle. “We should all go. We can take the SUV.”

Elle narrowed her eyes at Amber.

“Hey, I think if I’m going to be a part of the Street Witches, I should probably see up close what they’re doing,” Amber continued.

“I suppose.” Elle followed Amber to the bedroom to change from slippers to sneakers. I grabbed the jug of sun tea from the porch and went back to the pool house to stock up on cloves and fill a water bottle with Ashlee’s Long Island Tea of Tranquility. Hey, if I was going to revisit my glory days – or the sins of my past – I was at least going to be fortified with something better than Amber’s potion, California’s open container laws be damned.

I call shotgun!
Siegfried dashed for the garage as we headed for the vehicle. I guess the dogs were coming on this excursion as well.

John Robert sat between his moms in the front seat and laughed as we drove down Olive to the Foster’s Freeze next to the White Rabbit, a popular bruncheon spot for the aspiring magick crowd, landmarking the beginning of Main Street, Knightsbridge, California, USA.

At the edge of the street, a group of women, children and a few men, all dressed in all shades of yellow, poured out of a large lemon-colored pup tent and ran around. Some waved saffron streamers on sticks; others twirled flags, set off rainbow blooming flowers or fought over a couple of blue-and-canary lawn chairs. They sold drinks from a Knightsbridge Trojans cooler and sported a big banner that announced them as Station #1 of the Street Witches, Eastside Daughters of the Eternal, or SWEDEs for short. That seemed appropriate, given the many Scandinavians who’d settled the town so long ago.

We rolled up beside them on the side of the street and Elle rolled down the window.

“Hey Bea,” she said, and the whole car echoed as a half-familiar woman stuck her head in and gave us a brilliant smile.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen.” She gave Will a nod and settled her warm sunny disposition onto my nephew. “Well, what have we here? I’ve never seen you around here before and I know everybody.”

“It’s just me, Aunt Bea,” John Robert responded, and dawned on me that we were looking at JR’s Sunday School teacher, Beatrix Soderstrom. The oddity of a witch holding that job would hit me later.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Inaugural run, is it?” she asked him.

“First time for everything.” Amber smiled.

“Well, Team Gordon-Scott,” she admonished with a wag of her finger, “obey all street signs, keep it moving, and Chinese fire drills only at stop lights with a Street Witches station on the corner.”

“What’s a Chinese fire drill?” JR asked.

“You’ll see!” we all answered together, laughing. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“What’s a Chinese fire drill? What’s a Chinese fire drill?”

I swear the kid did not let up until we hit Station #2, Street Witches Northside Brothers of the Eternal, or SWiNBEs, as they said it. Yes, the acronym was a bit more forced. This station held mostly men and their children dressed in green, with kids holding glow sticks and waving around emerald sparklers.

We rolled up to the red light. Amber and I looked at each other from between the seats and screamed, “CHINESE FIRE DRILL!”

The universe seemed to slow around us, the people thronging downtown stopped to watch as colored lights from above spotlit the car. We all clambered out of the vehicle and made one revolution of the SUV before climbing back in and starting the car again just as the light turned green. It always happened that way, and everyone clapped and laughed as we drove on.

“Oh my gosh. I was so afraid we weren’t going to make it,” Elle deadpanned as JR hopped up and down on the seat.

“Let’s do it again! Let’s do it again!”

And though I know it might be fun for him, I realized that I’d begun feeling claustrophobic. “Hey Elle, can you pull over at the next street witches station. I think I’d like to walk for a while.”

“Me too,” Will said, which was fine.

She stopped at Street Witches Station #3, Southside Sons of the Eternal, or SWiSSE, and let Will and me out among the crowd gathered there. These men were a bit more somber; maybe it was the color red that seemed to portend something disastrous. I think the colors had something to do with the cardinal directions, but I couldn’t remember what red stood for. I’d ask Amber later.

Will walked beside me and as natural as breathing slipped his hand into mine. “Quarter for your thoughts?” he asked.

I snorted. “A quarter?”

He shrugged. “Inflation.”

“What happened to a nickel or a dime?”

“What can you get for a nickel or a dime anymore?”

“You can get nickeled-and-dimed.”

“Or get a dime dropped on you.”

“By Professor Plum in the dime store with the nickel-plated revolver.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Exactly.”

“Wierdo.”

“Maniac.”

“Lunatic.”

“Luna, moon. Ooo, that’s actually spot-on. So I was thinking about the pups,” I began.

Will interrupted. He was doing that a lot more than he used to and it was annoying. “Me too.”

“I think we should –” I said.

“I think we should –” he said simultaneously

…And I said, “wait,” while he said, “do it soon, do it now!”

Hoo, boy.

“Will, you just turned. You’ve only experienced one MoonFall and frankly I think we need a little more time together before we become puppy parents.”

“Okay, I get that. But it’s only going to affect you while you’re turned, right?”

“I don’t know that. Maybe. Probably. That’s what I’m told. Worst-case scenario puts me in a perpetual state of PMS. But I’m a little more concerned about
your
behavior lately.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a
gen-u-wine moody bastard
,” Will said in a Sam Elliot drawl, mimicking Sully, who obviously must have called him that at one time or another.

“Glad we agree on something.” I tried to pull away but he snuggled up closer to me.

“Grr,” I growled, only half annoyed.

“Grr,” he growled right back as we walked, shoulders pressed together.

“Hey Ashlee! Lookin’ good!” Greg Anderson, an old school chum, yelled at me from his tricked-out convertible roadster with the top down. The girl in the front seat next to him waved.

I laughed. “Hey Kira! Can you please keep a leash on your dad? I’m already taken, thanks!”

Will stood stock still in his tracks, nostrils flaring.

“WILL!” I had to step in front of him as his blue eyes began to glow – yes, literally glow – with an amber corona around the iris. “Will,” I began again, softer this time, hugging him to make sure he didn’t move. “Honey. Greg is just an old friend from high school. He’s married. We never even dated. You remember him, don’t you?”

“Argh,” he answered. “Sorry. I just. I’ve never thought about myself as the jealous type. I mean, I always knew a part of me was an animal, but…”

“But now that means more than you ever bargained for?”

“Guess so,” he said. “It scares me. It’s like times ten.”

I stared up at him, my chin pointed at his, and waited. People flowed around, ignoring us. Plenty of lovers on the streets, the night and the lights relaxing the usual small-town standards, ice cream cones or pretzels or churros or drinks in their hands. At moments like these, Main Street in Knightsbridge seemed like Disneyland, warm and magical.

Will said, “You know my dad had a temper. He only snapped once, but it was pretty nasty. Went on a bender. Said some horrible things to my mom and me. Came to us the next day weeping at our feet begging for our forgiveness. I don’t know which was worse, his anger or his shame.”

“You’re not him.”

“We’re all products of our parents and our upbringing, Ash. For better or for worse. I know it’s cliché, but I don’t know if we actually make any choices in our lives or if it’s just circumstances making us dance like puppets on strings.”

“The fact that you’re struggling with this shows
we
choose.”

“You didn’t choose to be a…” He lowered his voice and pulled me over to an unoccupied bench, out of the way of the foot traffic. “You know.”

“But I do choose what to do with it,” I replied, stroking his cheek. “You’re having the equivalent of your first period, hon. I know it ain’t much fun, but it will settle down as you get used to it. Remember, your response is your responsibility. Control your emotions or your emotions will control you.”

“You’re one to talk.”

I sighed. “Oh, I know. I can be bad sometimes, but I’m not six-two and well known in town. And my livelihood doesn’t depend on
not
being arrested for assault.”

“I dunno. It’s hard to be a travel writer from jail. Okay, I get it.” He took my hand and brought it down. “But about the pups…”

“I think we need to wait a while,” I said. I wanted to seem like the perfectly reasonable girlfriend when I know I’m not, but I also wasn’t ready to be a mommy, dog or human. Or hybrid, either. I wondered what would happen if two lycanthropes in wolf-man form mated. Have to ask Jackson about that one sometime.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Will said as we neared Station #4, Street Witches Westside Sisters of the Eternal, dressed appropriately all in blue. These abbreviated their piece or sect or chapter as SWWaSE, which for no particular reason made me thing of Swayze in Ghost.

What’s weird was, standing right next to them were Elle, Amber, JR and Ghost Mom. I guess they had pulled over somewhere and got out. Behind the crowd was a man dressed like a Mormon missionary, on a podium with a bullhorn.

The parking lot of Youngdale’s was the official terminating point of Main Street before it made a 45-degree angle due west and became tree-lined West Main, making a beeline toward the California coast a good two hours away. It was also a gathering place for those who enjoyed walking the downtown stretch rather than driving it, and it included many families.

I guess recently it had also become a staging point for the evangelists who believed it was their job to save the world, one convert at a time, God love them. Don’t get me wrong, I’d prayed the prayer, too many times probably. I had my fire insurance – once saved always saved, after all – but hellfire and brimstone? This was new for Knightsbridge.

“Repent, for the End of Days is at hand! Beware the prophecy of the Blood Moon which forecasts the coming of the apocalypse,” he bellowed. “Don’t waste your life cruising Main Street! Turn to God, not these spawns of Satan claiming to protect you as they usher you up and down the main street of perdition! Wide is the road that leads to destruction and narrow the gate that leads to everlasting life!”