Page 74 of Blood Moon
Listen to that intuition in you. It is the spark that lights the flame.
Article II, Lost Letters from Aadan the First
Bobby was ashamed to say it aloud. Because he didn’t understand it. Because he was still trying to pull away the edges of what was true about Timber Plains. And I couldn’t fault him. If Julian hadn’t demonstrated how shifting worked, I would have eventually gone back to thinking it was all folklore.
When I returned to Lakeland University, the sky was a perfect pinch of yellow and pink.
The sun split through the clouds, casting a golden tint on the Campus Center. I was unsure what to do with myself, how to be. I sat on the front porch of Hester, swaying gently in a rocker.
Before all this, I would have gone on a run, or a hike. I would have set up a hammock in the trees and read a book. I used to believe the worst thing that happened to me was Rena leaving, but now I recognized that was the start of what felt like a never-ending tug on my heart.
And I wished I could have told Bobby outright, but I knew it wasn’t my secret to tell. Even still, the notion that Rena came from an ancient bloodline was very absolute. With the information I presented to Bobby, I hoped he’d be able to find her, or at the very least, gather more intel.
The chair squeaked as it moved. In the silence, loneliness sank in, and the possibilities of what could happen once the sun went down strangled me so tightly I found myself struggling to breathe.
Julian,I thought.
Moments later, after sneaking into Bryton, I rode the elevator to the sixth floor, skipping past the lobby and following the hall to the end until I met the wooden door that separated us.
A trail of tingles pricked the apples of my cheeks, and I stood there, flustered—and apparently for too long, because on my next breath, the lock turned, and the knob twisted. With a swing, Julian stood on the other side, staring down at me with a sloppy grin on his face.
“Did you miss me?” he said, and I did, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He was the only person I knew on campus this weekend, and I didn’t want to be alone. Thus, I invited myself in, paraded right past him, and plopped on the couch.
Julian bit his bottom lip as he closed the door, looking bemused as he tried to puzzle through what I’d do next.
“How does it work?” I asked, wondering again about his auditory ability and its extensiveness. “With your hearing? Do all the voices, all the time, not bother you?”
Julian examined his room with a timidness. “Did you call me recently?”
“No, but I’ve been wondering. Last night, I said your name, and you heard me. Does it mean you were waiting around for me to say something? Are you always listening to me? Should I be deeply concerned?”
“Wow.” Julian leaned against the counter in his kitchenette like he’d been blown over. “Uh, what do I say here? With great power comes great responsibility?”
“And yet, you’re not Spider-Man.”
Julian turned his face to smile, watching the view out the window. After a moment, he looked at me again and said, “Mira, Iwasn’tlistening in on you, but Iwaslistening for my name.” And I remembered how quiet my voice was when I’d said it. “And with all the voices … it’s not as chaotic as it may seem. At first, it’s like being tuned in to every radio station, but with time, you learn how to lower the frequencies. The voices are like a soft hum in the back of my head now. I can choose to listen, or I can let it be.”
“Selective hearing,” I said.
“Selective hearing,” he repeated.
I sighed, feeling solidified with that answer. “So, what’s for dinner?”
He chuckled outright. “Dinner?” he asked, thinking I was joking, until his face changed, and he said, “Oh, you’re serious.” I nodded, and Julian looked stunned. He wore a scuffed pair of blue jeans and a flannel with sleeves folded to the elbow, a peek of his chest beneath. “How about burgers and fries?”
I stood without pause and rushed to the door. All the while, Julian rolled his eyes as he followed me out.
Julian owned a black jeep with worn leather seats that smelled like vanilla cashmere. A wolf pendant hung from the rearview mirror, watching me the moment I sat. I touched it, thinking how strange it must be for Julian to live in a world where no one knew what he was.
And I deliberated if he heard me contemplating, because the moment I clicked my seat belt, he regarded me with these solemn eyes, choosing not to disclose whatever had crossed his mind.
The windows were down as we pulled away from Lakeland, and my hair rushed toward every opening, flying around me. Julian laughed.
“It’s not funny,” I groaned, pushing the strands away from my eyes and mouth.
“It is,” he teased, and he handed me his phone. “Here, you can DJ.”
“You sure you want to listen to my music?” I scrolled through to find the angstiest song I knew. “You might start looking at me differently.”
