Page 15 of Luna & Andres

CHAPTER 7

I turned away from him and strode over to the river. The water brushed against the trash and smooth rocks that lined its shores. I gazed out across the wide expanse, but my eyes saw very little. My mind, however, went back to the confrontation at the old peoples' house.

Red. My friend and roommate. He was a monster. The savage glint in his eyes had told me as much. But why Vincent? Why did he hate him so much that he-

I froze. My eyes widened. Echoes of our conversations rang in my mind.

"We could make a couple of bucks by renting out the spare bedroom."

"I thought my new roommate might want her first dinner in our apartment to be memorable, so I fixed up something special."

"Oh Red. . ." I whispered. I looked up at the partial moon. Its faced stared back at me and judged me for my sin. "Why didn't I see it? All those stupid hints you gave me. . .they meant you-"

"Um, ma'am?" Vincent called to me.

I wiped away some water around my eyes and turned to him. "What?"

He held up a can with a spoon inside. "Would you like something to eat?"

I walked back to him and leaned forward to look into the can. The contents were beans. "Where'd you find it?" I asked him.

He nodded at a trash pile some twenty yards off. "Over there."

I stepped back and seated myself on my overturned drum. "I think I'll pass."

"All right. . ." he murmured.

He dug into the food with relish. I watched him consume the beans like a wild, starved animal. His gaunt face and dark shadows under his eyes told of the last stressful day. He held the spoon in his left hand, and the fingers trembled. It forced him to grip the spoon very tight.

His eyes flickered to me. He stopped and swallowed. "What is it?" he asked me.

I shook myself and frowned. "You have terrible manners."

He lowered the can and spoon. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so hungry, and I don't know why."

"I know why. It's probably because you changed into that werewolf," I told him.

He opened the hand that held the spoon and studied the palm. "But how can I be something like that and not know it?"

I nodded at the spoon. "You may not know it, but the proof is everywhere."

Vincent followed my gaze to the spoon. His eyes widened and a curt, choked gasp escaped his lips. The handle of the spoon was bent into the shape of his grip. He jumped to his feet and stumbled back. The spoon clattered onto the pile of rocks that surrounded the fire. I stood and grabbed the spoon.

"Ouch!" I yelped.

The heat from the fire meant grabbing the spoon was like taking a small poker into my hand. The spoon dropped into the fire and I cradled my burned fingers in my other hand.

Vincent hurried to my side. "Are you all right?"

I pulled my hand away from him. "I'm fine."

"That looks bad. Let me take a look at it," he pleaded.

"It's not as bad as-ouch." I'd tried to flex the fingers. The deep burns sent spikes of pain down my hand. "Damn it."

Vincent leaned forward and took my injured hand in his gentle hold. He pulled my hand close to his chest and examined the burns. "These need to be treated with water," he advised me.

I ground my teeth together and looked over my other should at the river. "We can't do it there," I commented.

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