Page 50 of Missing Moon

Old Writings

I’m feeling more than a little drained after the battle.

Talking with Dusk only made me feel even more tired. Out in the backyard, with the television going loud in the living room—Thanks, Tammy—I filled my brother in on a basic overview of my life that he missed. He knows that this ancient evil bitch sent a vampire to turn me one night, and the resulting supernatural fallout turned my former husband into a bastard. I suppose you could say that a man doesn’t just become a bastard. Adversity brings out the real person hiding underneath. Danny seemed so normal up until that point. Whenever I’m feeling charitable toward him, I like to think he maybewasa decent guy and he just cracked.

Between finding out that the world of the supernatural was real and his convincing himself the ‘real Samantha’ died and he was sharing a house with a creature similar to these things I’ve been turning into ash piles here… he lost his mind and spiraled out of control.

I shared my theory that because of our magical bloodline whatever Elizabeth wanted from me, she almost certainly tried to get from Mom first… and failed. Considering how old Elizabeth was, I probably have other ancestors who somehow managed to fend her off before she got lucky with me.

Dusk now also understands the difference between blood vampires and psychic ones. I didn’t bother going into massive detail about how I ended up changing and becoming technically alive again… since I really don’t perfectly understand it myself. Not complaining, though. Hated blood.

We know something happened with Mom, likely around the time I was three or younger. What memories my brother has of Mom being normal are very fleeting. Few people have clear memories of anything that happened when they’re that young. Personally, memories of anything in my life earlier than around age six are pretty much gone.

So, now Dusk is up to speed and the last thing he says to me before we go back inside is to demand that I make that ‘son of a bitch’ pay for what he did to Mom. Not a difficult thing to agree to. After all, my plan is to take this Hans guy out, anyway.

Sleep is fitful.

I don’t feel any sense of danger. No, my restlessness comes mostly from adrenaline… oh, and having recently fed in Hawaii.

I’ll explain.

Like I said, the fight was draining. Whenever I tap into superhuman strength or speed, it burns energy that I need to replenish. Since I don’t want to ‘feed’ off my family, I do the only reasonable thing and teleport to Hawaii since downtown Klamath would’ve been a ghost town and I need a fairly energetic crowd. So, I arrived at a resort I’m somewhat familiar with. Though it was a little after nine at night, there was still plenty of activity going on. I found a nice little beach party and lurked in the background, siphoning mental energy from a group of party-goers big enough that no one noticed the occasional ‘drunk’ falling on his or her face.

Now wired from the recent feeding and post-fight-adrenaline, I stare at my childhood bedroom ceiling until sunrise.

I get out of bed early enough not to be in conflict with anyone for the bathroom. My super-fast cleanup yesterday left me wanting a real shower. I lock the door, strip down… and get interrupted by my bladder.

I’m not sitting on the toilet for a full minute before a man’s voice comes out of thin air right next to me, “Sam?”

Somehow, I manage not to jump and scream. I rapidly look around while doing my best to cover myself with my hands. There’s no one here. I’m totally alone in the bathroom. But it doesn’t feel like a ghost is invading my personal space. Am I losing my mind?

“Sam? Is this working? Can you hear me? Just talk and I should be able to hear you,” repeats the familiar-sounding man.

Now that the suddenness of the voice is no longer startling me, my brain processes it enough to recognize who it is: Max.

I’m probably blushing as hard as I’ve ever blushed in my life. There I am, stark naked and sitting on the toilet and it sounds like Max is standing next to me. Oh, I really hope this is not Facetime magic.

“Umm,” I say in a low tone so no one else can hear me. “Yeah. I can hear you.”

“Excellent. Haven’t tried this trick in a few decades.” He chuckles. “You’re out of cellular reception, so I’m trying the orb.”

“The orb?”

“Pearl orb,” says Max. “It is an ancient communication device.”

I close my eyes, tensing up. “Can you see me?”

“No. Only hear you.”

Whew. I relax, slouching forward. Okay. Shower can wait a minute. He’d hear the water and be all sorts of embarrassed. “What’s up, dude?”

“I was poring over a collection of old writings and found some things you might find interesting.”

“How old is this book?”

He gives a quick chuckle. “It is not a book. I’m talking about stone slabs with etchings.”

“Wow, that’s going back a bit.” I whistle in awe, quietly.

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