Page 56 of A Moth to the Flame (Utopia #1)

Duke? Cordie moves forward with my hands outstretched, like she wants to catch me in case I fall. She thinks better of it at the last second, before she accidentally shreds her own arms to ribbons. What’s wrong?

I squint and study my glowing red eyes. “That’s what words on the page look like to me whenever I try to read. I don’t get it. I’ve been in your body for a month, but I’m still dyslexic. How are you only now seeing things the way I always do when you’ve been able to read just fine all this time?”

She shrugs my huge, velveteen shoulders. I don’t know, but that’s all the more reason to keep quiet about this. It almost seems like we’re sharing powers. That’s something they could use against us.

“Yeah.”

Cornelius lets out a long-suffering sigh. “What would she have me do? We cannot simply leave her in this form. The witches and the fae are to return by nightfall.”

“She says we should find some books about faekind if they’re down here.”

He twitches his whiskers. “You mean that I should read some books, since you clearly cannot.”

“Can you?” As far as I know, cats can’t read.

They usually can’t talk either.

He sniffs. “I am literate, yes. If you manhandle the books, then I shall read them.”

“These are a woman’s hands, you little turd,” I mutter, carefully sliding Cordie’s hand along my palm to avoid the claws. “Come on, Gingersnap. Let’s see what we can find.”

I’m so sorry, Duke , she sniffles. I’ve tried everything I can think of to calm myself down—deep breathing, focused imagining the way Wallace taught us when we built our pocket realm, meditation. Nothing’s worked.

I feel a flicker of movement on her back, so I glance behind us. I try really hard to not let my mental freakout bleed into her mind. “Cordie. I have a tail.”

Did the other Mothman have a tail? I was too busy trying to keep us alive to notice.

My feral form looks like a drawing of Satan I saw in one of my mama’s old bible books, minus the horns and hooves. The soft down that covers my body isn’t red either. It’s black like my wings.

Jesus Christ. My wings. I have fucking wings. I might pass out.

The only good thing I can say is that I’m built like a beast in this form. These muscles put the ones I work for to shame.

The tail flicks against Cordie’s ass.

She sighs. I kept trying to use your tail to pull down some books, but it’s surprisingly hard to control.

Please, don’t let it have a mind of its own. I’m not sure I can handle that. I’m barely handling this. I’m only holding it together for Cordie’s sake.

We follow Cornelius until he reaches a row of shelves way in the back of the library. It’s damn cold down here, even though it’s the height of summer.

Do you need me to bring you a blanket? I ask her.

No. Why? She blinks those red eyes at me.

Aren’t you cold? You’re naked.

I’m comfortable, actually. But if you’re uncomfortable seeing yourself like this, try wishing for a blanket.

“I wish for a large blanket,” I say out loud.

Nothing happens.

Cordie shrugs my huge, furry shoulders again. Just wanted to see if it worked outside the pocket realm. Go and get a blanket. I’m sure you don’t want Cornelius seeing all of you either.

I sigh, too. Way too late for that. I don’t want to leave you, anyway. I don’t trust your little furball not to use my wings for a scratching post if you’re alone with him.

She makes a snickering noise that almost sounds like a horse.

We watch as Cornelius leaps from shelf to shelf, scanning the books. He points to one with his paw. “This one, I think.”

I pull it off the shelf and open it for him.

He tells me when to turn each page as he reads over my shoulder.

No matter how much I squint, the words look the same as they always have to me.

If I really focus, I can read. Bigger print is a little easier.

A dark background with white words is better still.

Even then, a single page takes me way longer to get through than everyone else.

Well? Is he finding anything? Cordie asks.

I relay the question to the cat.

He makes a strange humming sound that’s not quite a purr.

“It says here that faekind do not shift until they reach the age of maturity. Once that occurs, they undergo extensive training to learn how to control themselves. Before then, a feral form shift is typically brought on when they are frightened or angry or other such types of distress. This is quite new information to me. ”

Makes complete sense to me. I’ve seen the tamest animals go feral when they’re hurt and backed into a corner. Cordie said she changed when she panicked about being trapped again.

Okay, and? Is there a chapter about how to shift back? she presses.

“I’m reading as fast as I can, my love,” he murmurs after I repeat her question.

“Don’t call her pet names like that,” I growl.

I swear to Pete that damn cat smirks. “Ah, here we are. A moment, please.”

Cordie’s getting real squirmy over there while Cornelius asks me to turn a few more pages.

Are you okay? I ask her.

It’s getting late. What if we can’t switch back into our own bodies while I’m stuck in your feral form? There’s no telling what Wallace or the witches will do if they find me like this. It seems like no one knows much about faekind. Wallace included.

Can’t argue with that.

How does Granny even have this book? I wonder.

Good question , Cordie agrees. Wallace must not realize Granny has info about the fae hidden down here.

“No,” Cornelius hisses, drawing our attention. “ That will not be happening on my watch.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He waves his paw. “Turn back three pages.”

Fuck, I wish I could read. I really want to know what’s on the page that he didn’t like.

“Calming techniques seem to be the first step,” he says after a few more minutes of reading. “Try petting the wings.”

I prop the open book on the shelf where Cornelius can still see it, then turn toward my towering body. “Anywhere in particular?”

“The text does not specify,” he answers.

“Could you, ah…” I gesture toward the floor. Even if I was in my right body, I wouldn’t be able to reach the top of these wings where they arch above my head.

I’ll try, but I might need a little help , Cordie says. These wings are awkward, and I don’t want to break anything if I accidentally sit on one .

That sounds painful , I agree. I move behind her to hold the wings up and out of the way.

They’re softer than they look, and more delicate, too.

It wouldn’t take much force to rip the membrane that’s covered in the same downy fur as my body.

Why in the hell did people coin the term Mothman way back when?

These don’t look like moth wings. I don’t even have those furry antennas jutting out of my head.

The only thing that’s the same as in the folklore is the red eyes.

I look down when something wraps around Cordie’s leg. The fucking tail again.

Did you do that, or did the tail do it all on its own?

Sorry, that was me. Trying to balance.

I blow out a breath of relief.

She chuckles as she finally settles cross-legged on the floor. It sounds like a horse again. You’re really worried about a rogue tail, aren’t you?

Seems like that should be the least of my worries, but…yeah.

I stroke over the wings gently, starting at the arches up top and working my way down. “How’s this?”

It doesn’t feel like much of anything, to be honest , she answers. Your wings don’t have much sensation in them, I guess.

I’m not sure whether that would make it easier to fly or harder. Not even sure these are capable of flight. We didn’t actually see the first Mothman fly. He just disappeared.

“What else?” I glance toward Cornelius. “She says the wings don’t feel much.”

He slowly turns a page with his paw. “Massage the body and offer soothing words.”

Cordie snorts.

“You don’t like that idea?” I ask, holding my hands away. If she doesn’t want to be touched, then we’re not going to do that.

No, it’s just that the book makes it sound like you’re trying to calm a skittish horse or something.

You kind of sound like a horse whenever you laugh , I admit. I think the point is just to get you calm.

I am calm !

Right.

I start by massaging my head. Feels like my normal hair, even though I’m not used to it being so short.

My ears look the same shape as they always do.

I’m pretty sure my head is a little bigger, but it looks proportional to my taller, broader body in this form.

I move onto my neck and shoulders. I hope this feels as good to her as it does to me.

It is a lot like rubbing down a horse, actually.

It’s soft and warm, and her hands tingle in a nice way the longer I do it.

I glide her palms along my jaw. My beard hasn’t fully grown back since I shaved it, but my fae face is covered in the same down as the rest of me.

She makes what sounds a hell of a lot like a purring noise.

I glance down to find Cornelius in her lap, rubbing against my stomach.

“You are such a good witch,” he croons. “Such a very, very good witch.”

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

He blinks up at me. “I am helping to soothe Cordelia. You were not offering comforting words.”

I roll my eyes and get on with the massage.

I want to pet the kitty so bad, but I don’t want to accidentally stab him, she whines.

Speaking of petting the kitty, is that how you got more of your blood to get back down here? I haven’t forgotten the questions I had when I woke up.

Yeah. I’m sorry if that feels like an invasion. It might be my body, but you’re currently in it.

It’s fine. I must’ve been sleeping really hard for you to manhandle me into a pair of pajamas and a clean…pad. How’d you manage that anyway?

I’ve never cared for a woman in that way, never considered things like period supplies.