Page 11 of Blood Moon

I couldn’t discern it yet, but she could never be lovelier than she was now.

Article II, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

I left dinner early, despite the subtle stares from Stevie, Abi, and Em. Their looks weren’t judgmental, but more so looks of concern.

I’d been spacey, taking half-bites of whatever I’d mindlessly scooped onto my plate, anxious that someone would pop up with another warning sign—something that would rightly agitate me since it seemed as though everyone else was aware of the apparent “ dangers ” on this campus, apart from me.

I’d been so furious, I’d mistakenly bit down on my fork, to which Abi cautiously said, “Bitch, slow down.” Whereas Stevie and Em patted my shoulder with curious eyes and twisted lips, sharing sentiments I didn’t catch.

The only part of dinner I remembered tuning in to was the part where he walked in.

I twitched a little, trying to bury the uncomfortable feeling that came with his presence.

His hair was loose, and it flowed gently as he ran his fingers through it.

He wore a plain white shirt and jeans as he sat in a booth with two other guys.

They shared physical similarities, with broad shoulders and long limbs.

Both tall, and charming in a way I couldn’t comprehend.

One had darker skin with long black locs.

The other was of Latin decent, like the nameless boy, but with light brown hair and piercing green eyes.

They relaxed into each other like they were longtime friends, or family.

Instead of touching his plate, he eased into his seat. His friends joked about something while he remained expressionless, and for whatever reason, I wondered if it was to spite me.

See, there was this inexplicable feeling that told me he knew that I knew that we were in close proximity to each other, and because of that, he refused to acknowledge my presence. It was a power move; it was my move, and I didn’t like it one bit.

I chewed a piece of protein aggressively and took a sip of water before I nudged Em. “Who is he?” I was entitled to know, and while I wasn’t confident she’d know him, it was a risk I was willing to make. She was from town, and I assumed he was from town, too.

Em followed my gaze. She grinned, a small sparkle in her eyes when she saw him.

“That right there, is Julian Santos. We went to high school together. Word on the street is that something tragic happened to him junior year,” she said.

He sat up straight, a half grin forming on his face as he picked up his fork.

“Whatever it was, he was pulled out of school for an entire month. When he came back, he looked like … that ,” she said, looking him up and down.

“Now, girls just throw themselves at him, hoping they trip and fall in love.”

Julian Santos. It wasn’t a name I would have guessed. In my mind, “bastard” would have been more fitting.

“Ha,” Stevie said, listening in on our conversation. “You could hardly say that. I’m sure they’re falling, alright … it just ain’t in love.” She grinned manically, and Abi laughed. The two of them bumped fists, and I chuckled with them. It was admirable how all of them were so close.

“He is fine, though. I’ll give him that,” Stevie said.

Abi snickered. “He’s alright. I’m more of a boob girl, you know?”

“You’ve got to stop picturing guys with boobs,” Em said.

Abi sighed, looked away from Julian. “I can do what I want.”

I nodded my head as I took a sip of water. Abi was truly outrageous. “Wait, Em, what high school did the two of you go to?”

“Timber High,” she said.

I hummed, took a few mental notes. It was no wonder I hadn’t run into either of them.

Timber Plains was a fair size—there were close to 200,000 people in our county alone—but it was also spread out.

It felt small and large at the same time.

Their school was east of where Bobby and I lived, close to the Kansas City, Missouri, border.

“What about you?” Em asked.

In response, I told her I went to Piper High School, and Abi and Stevie mentioned they were from St. Louis—something I was aware of—but that they specifically came to LLU for the dance team.

Unbeknownst to me, Lakeland had a reputation for having one of the best collegiate dance teams and marching bands in the state of Kansas.

They carried on in conversation about a few people on the team, and while they did, I snuck another glance at Julian and chewed on the edge of my thumbnail. I wondered what had happened to him that he needed to be pulled out of school for a month. Whatever it was, it had to be serious.

I got up to leave then. I was on the hunt for answers after all the chaos that had occurred.

First, it was the glowing eyes in the woods. They were faint, but they were there, and they weren’t human. My gut told me it was more than a wild animal, something I should be wary of.

Second, Julian. Everything about him infuriated me.

He wanted me to leave, and he didn’t have a reason why, at least not one he offered to share with me.

The biggest issue I had now was that Rena felt similarly to Julian in regard to my safety, making this whole ordeal feel like more than a coincidence. What were the odds?

Third, Rena knew I was attending Lakeland University. A realization that made me wonder if maybe she was the reason I’d been accepted to LLU. If she’d applied on my behalf, it would mean Bobby hadn’t, but even if that were true, what were her intentions for me being here?

Still, her message came with what seemed like multiple ciphers: I can’t come now. The world isn’t as it seems. Be safe. Wear this necklace.

But it was what she signed off with that reminded me of the old book locked behind a glass case in the Sutton Art Museum.

Amor vincit omnia.

When I arrived at the Bowman Art Building, the sun was arched in the sky, barely floating above the west horizon. As I passed one end, I could see an evening class taking place through the long windows. I entered through the back, where the museum was located, and pulled open the heavy glass doors.

Cold air and faint jazz music welcomed me. The front desk was empty. I approached it, pressing down on the small bell while I looked at the screen mounted to the wall behind the desk. It flashed through different events that would be taking place during the fall.

I heard a clacking against the floor before I saw anything. Then, rounding the corner was Abba. Today her gray and brown ringlets rested on her shoulders, and her lips were a tint of mauve, a color that reminded me of a wine stain.

She dressed similarly to a flight attendant, with her black blazer, pencil skirt, and scarf tied to the side of her neck.

“Oh, hello.” She squinted her eyes. “Did we meet recently?”

“Yes, I was here on tour the other day. It was brief.”

She looked pleased. “I’m always hoping to leave a good impression.” She straightened her skirt. “Did you need assistance with anything?”

I glanced behind the desk, to the museum. Although it was further away, I could see the folklore section. I took a step in that direction. “I was actually curious as to what you know about the legends of Timber Plains.”

Her mouth pulled into a slight smile. “You’re interested in bedtime stories and fairytales?”

I shrugged absentmindedly. “What can I say? I love our town.”

As we walked toward the folklore section, I inspected the replicas of artifacts that were believed to have been around during the medieval times.

“You know,” Abba started, following close beside me, her voice very serene.

“When broken down, folklore is simply the beliefs, customs, and stories of a community passed down from person to person—oral storytelling, if you will. It’s often the main reason why some stories get mixed up on the way down.

We try to preserve the originality of those stories, try to keep them as pure as possible, but humanity comes with slight imperfection, I suppose. ”

I nodded, walking past Abba to the glass case, where I found myself staring at the illustration of the man known to be Aadan, transforming into a werewolf.

“Do you think there’s any truth to the stories?” I asked, remembering how she’d mentioned them the other day before Em pulled me away.

“I reckon it would be senseless to think it was all make-believe, don’t you?

” She looked at the case with me. “It means a long time ago, someone here in Kansas believed they witnessed a man transform into a wolf to bring peace and help clear any threats in the area. Not only that, but when they told the story to someone else, that person believed it, and it lived on and on. It’s likely that Aadan was a real person, but the history of werewolves is a bit flighty, depending on who you ask. ”

“But it’s werewolves. These creatures were all made up by Hollywood, right?

There’s proof of that,” I said, peering harder as I questioned the lore.

Sure, I’d read stories and seen movies with the paranormal, but I knew it wasn’t real.

It was harder to wrap my head around the idea that there were adults in this town who still believed werewolves existed.

“Depends on who you ask,” she said. “A handful of folks might disagree with you.”

“But why are they so keen on these bedtime stories? It was just something that was made up, something to scare the kids and keep them all inside. Unless there’s actual proof, it seems sort of … I don’t know … silly, don’t you think?”

She raised a single brow, looking at me with this lazy smile on her face, and I wondered if she, too, were one of the people that thought werewolves existed. She couldn’t be serious.

My throat warmed, and I felt that warmth spread to my face before I took another breath.