Page 61 of In the Light of the Moon

While Roz cracked open a box of chocolate truffles she brought from a shop downtown, I slung an arm around my friend and rubbed my hand over the bristles of her shaved head. We weren’t a full coven just yet, but to have a sister in this way was one of the best feelings in the world.

I bit into a chocolate that oozed teeth-achingly sweet caramel and caught Granna’s eyes on me. It was like she was turning over what to say to me, deciding whether or not to confess something. But I didn’t need her to explain the slips, and I didn’t want her to feel self-conscious for them. So I gave her my most winning smile, but the one she returned was brittle at the edges. Once again, silver shined around the corners of her eyes just before she shook herself and tuned back into the conversation at hand.

Granna had done so much for me, and I knew that she also mourned the years lost between us. She never said it, but I felt it in the way she guided and encouraged me in that dry way of hers. In the way she cared for me.

The slips were out of her control, just a signal that she’d lived a long life.And, besides, I talked down the panic scaling up my throat,we have so much more time left.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Orion

Sylvie’s heart was a consistent beat that seemed almost in sync with the Otis Redding record I had playing. Though I’d made updates to the cabin, brought in my own furniture and decorations, Da’s and my record collection was prominently displayed for all to see, and I played from it constantly. Sylvie didn’t seem to mind, often humming or tapping her feet without really noticing she was doing it.

Her big, soft eyes closed in pleasure as she tasted what I’d cooked for us tonight. She slurped a long noodle again after the first time had drawn a little chuckle from my anxious throat. It wasn’t the action in of itself but the dimples that appeared when she did it.

She’d said that she vaguely remembered that her mother used to make spaghetti, and though she nor her grandmother knew exactly how to tell me how to make it, she seemed content enough with my rendition. Sylvie picked up the basket of bread I’d laid between us on the table, putting it back down closer to the edge than it had been before.

I didn’t even try to stop myself from lining everything back up just so. The dish of grated Parmesan, the salt and pepper in ceramic shakers my father had bought at a garage sale when I was a boy, then the bread. My mind focused on making them equidistant and centered.

When I drew my hand back to stab a meatball and shove it into my mouth, I realized that I’d stopped engaging completely to reorganize the table. But when I glanced at Sylvie, she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled warmly at me and continued eating and picked up humming with the bridge of the song that was nearly over.

She was so sweet, so precious. My instinct to protect her had only grown with each day we spent together, and when she said that she wanted to markme, without even knowing what it meant, I’d almost fallen on my knees right then. I looked to her neck now, at the darkened impression of my teeth on her perfect, brown skin, and I felt a rumble try to start in my chest. I rubbed at my own mark, where she’d pierced me with her blunt teeth, and nearly closed my eyes at the deep sense of belonging washing over me.

I’d told her that I’d never belonged to anyone before, and it was true. Would she rebuke me if she knew the truth and how long I’d been keeping it from her? My mouth went dry at the thought, and I gulped down more of the expensive wine I’d bought for the occasion.

Ever since she’d told me I’d bitten her that first night, something I didn’t remember, I had been fussing and fawning over her. Every day, I nestled into the crook of her neck, trying to smell as deeply as possible to detect any sort of transformation. There never was, but I couldn’t get rid of this deep, deep fear that things would suddenly change. That her body would decide now was the time to try and shift.

Bile threatened to rise in my throat at the image of it. Not because I wouldn’t want Sylvie to be like me. But from what Da and others told me, for those bitten, the first few shifts were painful and distressing. And the many whose bodies rejected it completely…

My teeth ground as I fought down the nauseating fear at her body just—giving up. Her not being here anymore because of me.

I needed a fucking cigarette, but I’d also taken up trying to quit for her again. I downed the rest of my wine.

“Are you okay, baby?” She asked over her now empty bowl. Her thick brows were drawn in concern, and I couldn’t help but shiver when she called me that. I didn’t think she even really noticed, but I held the moment in my mind each time.

I cleared my throat and rose to clear our bowls, “I’m fine, Sylvie. Are you full, or would you like more?”

Her groan made my body shiver, “Ugh, no, I wish. Too full.” Her sweet, sleepy smile forced a small one from my lips. I bent to kiss her forehead as I padded on socked feet to the kitchen.

My meal was mostly uneaten, but I realized now that I wouldn’t have enough of an appetite to finish. I began settling into the routine of putting the leftover food into containers, lining the dishes up beside the sink for washing, and wiping down the stove and adjacent counters.

At the sound of the faucet starting and the clatter of dishes, I called over, “I’ll wash those. Go relax,” I jutted my chin toward the direction of the living area while I scrubbed a particularly tough splatter of sauce.

She scoffed and started to drizzle soap over the brand new sponge I’d set out the night before. “You cooked. I can at least do the dishes.”

“No, Sylvie, I’ve got it,” I said through my teeth. I didn’t want her to do anything. She already took care of her grandmother,and I just wanted to take care ofher. What if the change was just taking place very slowly—that would certainly be exhausting, right?

And if she’d somehow avoided it, I knew that she was stressed about her final papers and exams she had coming up. She’d already given me so much. I could easily wash some pots and pans.

But she was insisting, stubbornly planted in front of the sink and already working on the pot I’d simmered the sauce in. “Orion, shut up. It’s fine.” Though there was a lightness to her words, mind raced at the exasperation I detected in her words.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I could scent it now, how her sweet smell shifted in the air. I was fucking this up.Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chastised as I finished wiping down all the surfaces aside from the one beside her, now clear of dirty dishes. Sylvie was making quick work, her shoulders drawn higher than normal, and I took a nervous swallow.

She made me jump when she whirled around to face me. Her hands were still soapy, and some of the suds dripped down onto the floor by her feet. I dug my nails into my palm, trying to resist the urge to wipe them up. Because she was biting her lip while eyeing me up and down as if she was trying to decide what to say to me.

We faced each other in silence with only the rich ballad playing from the living room. “Rion, what’s going on?”

That was a new one. Well, for Sylvie. She didn’t know that my da used to call me that. “What do you mean?”

---