Blue Moon (19 page)

Bronwyn giggled. “See? I told you that if we started out, we'd find a path. And here is our path."

Terisoth let her go. She looked up at him, at his doubtful expression. “What do you mean? Who is she?"

"Obviously, one of Sabin's pawns,” Aïs said. “Who else would bother?"

"Pawn for what?” Terisoth asked. “Why is she here?"

She knows, Rita wanted to tell him. She knows, but she doesn't want you to.

Bronwyn shook her head. “Does it matter? We have someone who will lead us to where the trouble is. There we will find magic, and where there is magic, we will find the power that we all fear. Whether she is a pawn or not, we can still use her. Bind her, and let us go."

Rita looked at her. “You know you don't need to bind me."

Bronwyn blinked. “I don't?” She looked at the others and shrugged. “Terisoth, since you seem to like her so much, you make sure she doesn't get away."

"She still needs to eat,” he said stubbornly. “And if we're breaking camp to go on, we might as well let her finish the stew while we pack."

Bronwyn ignored him, folding the blanket she'd been sitting on. He led Rita to the fire and got his plate and fork from where they were lying.

"Freshly washed. Sort of,” he said, explaining why the plate was still wet in places. He stirred the pot, which had been sitting next to the fire, not on it, and gave her some. She plunged in, eating as she hadn't eaten in years.

"Easy now,” he said, laughing as if he found her endearing. He got her some water and, when she finished, took the things away. He bade her follow, and she did, staying close.

He knelt at the stream, washing the pot. She knelt beside him. He spoke quietly.

"I do not know what is going on,” he said. “I will watch over you as long as you are with us. Stay close to me always, and all will be well.” He looked at her. “Do not hurt me or mine, and I will not permit you to be hurt.” She nodded, and he smiled. “Things are way weird right now. We'll watch each other's back, okay?"

She nodded again, smiling this time. He handed her the pot, and she picked up the rag he'd brought to dry it. He washed the rest, humming softly, and she swore to herself that Sabin and his mother would not harm this kind man.

Libby was not a confidant cook.

She knew she could do it, that it would be adequate, but adequate was not what she wanted. She never got much practice, so she was slow, and she fussed and worried over everything.

It wasn't just because she was cooking for Alex. The fact it was for Alex just magnified her normal fussiness.

Fortunately, she started early—it took her twenty minutes to find her potato peeler.

"You won't like it,” she told Dashiel as she peeled and cut the potatoes. He was begging, his eyes big and, well, puppy-like. She sliced off some potato and fed it to him. “Don't say I didn't warn you."

He ate it and begged some more. She sighed and went to check on the stuffed chicken breasts, then returned to the counter.

"I'm glad I invited Alex over,” she said. She had bathed earlier, and scented herself with roses. She had dressed carefully and even put on her nice underwear, with the bit of lace. “I'm going to ask him to stay tonight, so you'd better behave yourself. I'm kind of nervous about it, but he's so sweet, and gentle and handsome."

She chopped some potatoes, looked at the pot to see if she'd peeled enough. A few more.

"I know I haven't known him long, but, um, I think it'll be okay. I haven't been out of this house in four years, really, except that signing tour, which was a nightmare. I was constantly worried something might happen to the box while I was gone.” Reaching into the bag, she brought out another potato. “Oh, and once or twice I went to a convention, but that's about it. I know it's sort of pathetic to go to bed with the first man I've dated since what happened, but...” She shrugged. She paused in her peeling, and looked at Dashiel. “I really, really like him. I know I thought I really liked Sabin, but it's like this time I know for sure, because I know how not to be tricked."

Dashiel begged for another slice. She washed her hands and gave him a biscuit instead.

"I've given my life to protecting this box. That's okay, I don't mind. But it'd be nice to have sex with someone kind and gentle and to know what it's really meant to be like.” She shuddered at the memory of sex with her ex-husband, which had not been kind or pleasant at the best of times, although she had put up with it. She hadn't known better, and to tell the truth, she still didn't.

She filled the pot with water and carried it over to the stove. “I dreamt once that I was going to die. I know it wasn't a real dream, because the moon was out, and it was this huge blue thing, and we all know there's no such thing as that.” She ran her fingers absently along the edge of the pot. “But he's coming for me, and for the box. I've got to accept that. I don't know when. It can be anytime. Maybe even during the full moon next week, when he's most powerful. I think I can keep him from it, but...” She paused. “He's really strong. I almost died the last time, and I would have, if that man hadn't attacked him.

"Next time Sabin gets his hands on me, he'll try to get me to tell him where the box is. I won't, and he'll kill me.” She nodded, accepting this. “But no one can find the box, not where I have it hidden.” She grimaced. “I hope."

"We have found you at last, Sabin."

Sabin turned. Rita stood in the doorway with three elves.

"And who are you?” he asked, even though he would recognize his mother no matter what form she wore.

"Careful, Bronwyn,” said the tall one. He looked down at Rita, who had just whispered something to him. “He has the minions of Shadow guarding his doors."

She slanted a look toward him. “I do not see them."

Sabin saw Rita tug at the tall one's sleeve. The elf pulled out his sword.

"What tales has this child been filling your head with, Terisoth? Put up your sword."

Rita shook her head.

Bronwyn hissed angrily. “I am your commander. You will do as I tell you. Put up your sword."

Terisoth obeyed slowly. He looked confused, and Sabin worried his mother's glamour magic was weakening.

She stepped forward. “Aren't you going to come and give your mummy a hug?"

Rita screamed as the Shadow minions materialized, surrounding Terisoth and Aïs.

"Kill them,” Sabin said as he wrapped his arms around his mother.

She held up a finger. “Wait. Mummy did not bring you new playthings just to see them destroyed."

He sighed. “As you will then, Mother.” He gestured to the guards. “Put them someplace where they can't hurt themselves."

Rita went to Terisoth. “I'm sorry,” she said.

He gave her a very slight smile. “I was warned."

"Rita,” Sabin called out from behind her.

"Keep yourselves alive,” she said, and turned to her master.

"Thank you for the little puppet. We encountered her just after dark. She brought us right here."

Sabin shrugged as his mother sat down on a couch.

"So,” she said, without preamble, “where is the Stone?"

"I'm working on it.” He smiled mysteriously.

She tossed her hair, arranging herself on the couch. She looked at him.

"Let us get past the act, my son. Where is the Stone? Tell me."

He gave her an angry look. “I don't see why you have to be in on everything."

She opened her eyes wide and hissed, “From the beginning."

He held up his hands. “I tracked down its original hiding place, but some humans beat me to it. They were experimenting with it.” He smirked. “I attacked the base but failed to recover the Stone, so I eliminated the scientists, one by one, until I found out which took the Stone away from the site.

"I lost track of him for a time, but discovered this other guy was trying to find a stone-sensitive human. He found one, so I attached myself to her, figuring the Stone would come to her eventually. Well, I got sidetracked by her sister, and some other things happened. Finally, I tried to torture Elizabeth, the stone-sensitive, into telling me where the Stone was, but realized she had no clue."

He waved his hand in dismissal.

His mother's eyes were closed. She sat on the couch, like a snake coiled to strike.

"So, anyway, it's a couple years later, and I finally find the scientist who took the Stone away in the first place. He told me he'd passed the stone on to Elizabeth after I'd tortured her, and now she has it. Worse yet, she opened the box."

Her eyes opened. “So, the power has passed on."

"Yeah.” He smirked again. “But not to worry. Let me tell you, Elizabeth isn't much. We just have to keep the pressure on her, and she'll break like a twig."

"I want the Stone now, you idiot, not later. What have you been doing all these years that I've slept? What have you accomplished? You have one or two spells that you've mastered, but the ability to swap souls around and raise the dead is not enough."

Sabin sat up. “It was enough for you."

She stood. “I want the Stone. I want to hold it in my hands and imagine all the lives in it being crushed. You will get it for me, or you will not live to see the world after the blue moon. Because if I have to go get it, I'll use the magic that binds your soul to this body to cast my spells. Do you understand, oh, son of mine?"

Sabin looked at her for along moment. “Of course, I do."

She greeted him at the door just as he was about to raise his hand to knock. “Hello."

"Hi!” Alex said, presenting her with flowers. He also had wine. She kissed him, timidly, on the cheek to thank him for the gifts.

"You look wonderful” He admired the simple cream dress she wore. On it, a pin glittered, shaped like a dragon, one sapphire eye winking in the light.

"We're going to have to eat in the kitchen, I'm afraid. My grandparents didn't build a dining room."

There was the smell of something on the air, something bitter.

"Oh, no!” Libby moaned, and ran for the stove.

He waited a moment, not sure if he should follow her and help, or if she'd be embarrassed. He shrugged and went in, to find a dejected Libby standing over a pot.

"Oh, God, don't cry, Libby.” He went over and looked.

"I'm not,” she sniffed. She had let the potatoes boil themselves out, and the ones on the bottom were burned.

"You know, this isn't so bad. We can fix this.” He grabbed a potholder. “All we have to do is get the good stuff out."

"I know. It's just, I mean, I wanted a perfect dinner and..."

"It still will be. Hand me that bowl."

She handed it to him and dug a tablespoon out of the drawer. She carefully began taking the good potatoes out.

"It's not the damn potatoes,” she said.

"Of course not."

"It's that I hate it when I plan things and they don't go right."

He made another sympathetic sound.

"You must think I'm an idiot,” she said.

"No,” he protested, “I really don't."

She looked at him. He was chewing his lip in a way that made her suspicious.

"Don't you dare laugh."

He cleared his throat. “I'm not."

She pointed at the potatoes. “I slaved for hours to make this for you."

"And I will eat it."

"That you will,” she muttered. “So go away while I try to salvage this."

"I'll stay right here,” he said, going to the table. “And out of the gourmet chef's way."

He took two knives and forks out of the drawer and laid them on the table. He looked around, as if trying to find something to do. He looked at the calendar by the refrigerator.

"That's neat. There're two full moons this month. There was one at the beginning of the month, and next week's the second one. That's a...” He paused, and they both spoke at once.

"Blue moon."

They laughed nervously.

"Have you ever wondered what happens during a blue moon?” Alex asked.

"No,” Libby said, plugging in the mixer. “I never have."

He flipped though the calendar. The following month, too, would have a blue moon. It was no mysterious occurrence, just the way the moon happened to cycle through the days. He shrugged.

"I wonder why they consider it so rare?"

"My understanding is that it only happens every so many years,” she said.

"Must be a pain if you're a werewolf,” he commented. She laughed, and he added, “No, really. I can totally see it—this poor guy who totally forgot about the second moon in the month waking up in an alley somewhere, his clothes all shredded, thinking, ‘My wife's going to think I'm having an affair.’”

"Well,” she said, “the guy should have told her the truth in the first place."

"Oh, I am so sure.” Alex walked over to her, took her hands in his and looked deep in her eyes. “Darling,” he said. “I have been hiding a terrible secret from you all these years. From you and...” He looked over at Dashiel, who was sitting up, staring at him intently. “...and the kids. I am..."

He took a deep breath, and Libby felt her shoulders began to shake as she tried to keep a straight face.

"A were-ostrich."

"A what?” she sputtered, laughing hard.

He let go of her hands and turned, feigning sorrow and disappointment. “Yes, yes, every full moon I sprout feathers and stick my head in the sand. It is the burden I must bear."

She leaned her forehead against his back, trying to breathe in between giggles. “Oh, you poor thing."

"See? My point exactly. No one's ever going to take such a confession seriously."

The stove timer began to buzz, so she went to switch it off. “Not the way you tell it, at any rate."

"Where do you keep the plates?” he asked as she returned to the mixer.

"Plates and cups are in there,” she said, pointing to a hutch against the wall beside the doorway.

He admired the old-fashioned piece of furniture for a moment. The counter was made of white enameled metal that felt cool and smooth to his touch; the doors were made of vertical strips of dark varnished wood. He gripped the small tarnished knobs and pushed. The doors bent where the segments met and slid inside the cabinet, revealing stacks of plates and bowls.