Page 12 of Lessons with the Mothman

A soiled paw with preciously small black beans slapped ruthlessly at the end of the plastic tube, and a glob of wet treat flew out and landed on the floor of my porch. Seraphina helped herself, ignoring the kitten's outraged howl at her nearness.

I sighed, and it leapt away, scurrying into a dark corner. Growls and crunches of dry food commenced, and Hubert strolled closer to me with a lazy pace, stretching his back legs one at a time.

"Good baby," I whispered, scratching his head as he licked at the end of the treat tube.

Hubert looked like a miniature panther, with muscular broad shoulders and a long sleek frame. Unlike many of the other tomcats who visited, Hubert seemed to have considered his options and decided to settle down, accepting the hospitality of my food and the top cubby of my overly elaborate cat tree withina day of arrival. Lately, he spent more time inside the apartment than out.

"You want in while I'm gone?" I asked.

Both Hubert and Seraphina, the loyalest pair of strays I'd tamed and fixed and vaccinated, wandered to my back door obediently. They didn't always come in, but they had beds and litter boxes and food bowls when they were in the mood. I took their presence as the compliment it was.

Checking the water and food outside once more, I turned off the porch light and picked up my bag from where I'd left it at the door.

With a parting rumble and a hiss, the new stray kitten watched as I took the backstairs down to the alley, calling a car for my trip to Nightlight. It was after midnight, but the bar wouldn't close until two. I'd have time to kill there, but I found myself strangely eager.

I'd never liked bars much before. They'd been places I went with Brett and his friends and their girlfriends—noisy and crowded and inevitably the scene of someone else's personal argument, drunken tears, or vibrant shouting. After Brett, I'd found myself without a social circle that really belonged to me, without anyone to call me out for a drink. It hadn't occurred to me that I could do so on my own, that there might be a place like Nightlight, lively but not oppressively loud, where the drinks were little works of art and the crowd that frequented was anywhere from mid-twenties to centuries old.

A dark car pulled up to the curb where I waited, and I slid into the backseat, wondering what Elias might have waiting for me on the bar top when I arrived.

On my way.I texted.

Good, there are people here I'd like to introduce you to.

CHAPTER 5

Elias

A flickerof fire out of the corner of my eye, and I set the bottle I'd been pouring from down on the bar, turning toward the front door.

Victoria walked past the windows, her gaze already searching through the glass, studying the bar. She wore a loose blouse and long pants, and she had her tortoiseshell glasses on. I'd seen them before—she seemed to wear them at night, her eyes tired from contacts perhaps. Her hair was twisted up, barely contained by a claw clip, curls frizzing into a bright halo around her face.

She didn't look toward the bar, towardme, as she entered, instead taking in the rest of the long room. Her steps faltered briefly over the threshold, and I wondered if the wave of sound, loudest now in these final hours, overwhelmed her like it sometimes did me.

A stone hand reached for the drink I'd been preparing, and I pulled the glass out of Rafe's reach.

"I assumed you were finished," he said.

I looked down and frowned. "There's only vodka."

"It's a good vodka," Hannah said, seated next to Rafe.

I turned, trying to recall what I'd been preparing for my friend but unable to resist glancing back once more. Victoria's progress was slow, partly because we were packed and partly because she didn't appear to be in any rush, weaving through the crowd, looking into the faces of those who paid her no attention. I didn't understand how every head in the room managed to avoid looking in her direction.

Moth, flame, a soft voice mocked in my head.

"Move your bag now," I said to Hannah when Victoria had almost reached us.

Hannah's eyebrows raised slightly, but she reached to the bar stool next to her and lifted the bag I'd instructed her to place. I waved to Victoria, pointing to the seat, keeping an eye on the crowd to ensure no one else grabbed it. From the counter below the bar top, I lifted a cut crystal highball glass and slid it across to Victoria before she even sat down.

"Old-fashioned variation," I said, comparing the amber of the liquid to the shade of her hair in the low watt lighting. "Victoria, these are my friends, Rafe and Hannah."

I turned back to the mirrored wall, watching the three exchange hellos and handshakes as I finished Rafe and Hannah's drinks.

"He doesn't allow us to order our own drinks either," Hannah said.

"It's his way of showing he cares," Rafe said, and I considered shoving him off the bar stool.

"I always assumed it was his way of trying to prove he could read you at a glance," Hannah muttered. Which was ironic, considering I could hardly read Hannah at all.

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