Page 3 of Blood Moon

Once you invite the monster in, it doesn’t rest.

Article IV, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

Lakeland University was located almost an hour away from Kansas City. By county lines, it was still in Timber Plains, but right on the outskirts of it, next to a large lake that curved on the edge of the campus.

It had been a while since I’d been on campus grounds. I’d been to a few games at O’Porter Stadium, but I’d never gone on an official tour of the school. However, as we drove along the winding road that stretched across the east side of campus, I admired how beautiful all of it truly was.

Lakeland was well cared for, with its green vastness, mature trees, and its historic limestone buildings that stood tall and admirable against the earth. There was a bronze statue of the founder with a wolf at his feet on the east side. It resided on the hillside, overseeing the university.

A flock of birds flew against the bright blue sky, squirrels jumped between branches, and there was a feeling that surfaced, an exhale of air that told me I’d made the right decision by choosing to come here.

Yard signs with arrows on them lined the main road, pointing west toward the freshman dormitories. In the front yards of the dormitories were blue tents with banners that read “check in” beneath them.

Bobby stopped his truck by one of the tents before he parked. He wanted me to get in line while he waited for a spot up close to my dorm. I could already hear his mantra, “work smarter not harder.”

Parents and first-time students stood in a near dizzying range of emotions before me.

Some of them tried to fan themselves off from the unforgiving heat while we waited, others took pictures or recorded a video diary of each waking moment.

But all of us were slumped shoulders and dewed faces in this weather.

Thankfully, someone handed out bottles of water.

A few feet ahead, a mom cried into her phone while her daughter’s cheeks flushed bright red, patting her mother’s back with a limp hand. Presumably, she didn’t want anyone to know they were related, though the two were identical with only a twenty-some year difference.

Even further ahead, a family of five sported matching shirts and shorts to celebrate the move-in of their twin daughters.

The sight made me twitch a little. Not because I had an aversion to their matching clothes, but because I wondered what it was like to have a large, supporting family.

Two stable parents. Siblings. The idea seemed like a fever dream.

So perfectly tied in a bow. So completely out of reach.

Though college wasn’t in the original plan I’d had for myself, I was looking forward to it now.

I’d never been away from home for more than a week, too afraid that my absence would cause Bobby to spiral.

Not that he was much of a spiraler—he kept his shirts tucked in his jeans, a belt around his waist—but the month after Rena left, he’d let his guard down.

Lost control theorizing where she could have gone and measuring out the possibilities of whether she’d be found dead or alive.

He didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Didn’t clean.

I saw his room once. The walls were plastered with papers he’d printed, cases he’d worked on, and photos of people with question marks off to the sides of them.

An illustration of a phase of the moon was there.

Multiple victims who’d been mauled were there, too.

A single red thread connected them together, but I never had the chance to find out how.

His friends from the department came to our home and sat him down in the living room.

“Enough is enough,” I’d overheard one of them say.

Bobby took everything down after that. They watched him file the documents into folders and place them into a cardboard box. I looked for the box but never found it. It was almost unnatural how soon Bobby went back to being his usual self.

Here and there, I’d see him crack. Maybe after watching the news or a long day in the field. But I never saw him split open again as he had years back. There was a thread tying him together, and I wondered how tight the knots had to be before he came toppling over.

So, while I craved adventure and independence, there was this reminder inside me, pulling at the pit of my navel, telling me not to be away from him for too long. He needed me.

After some time, Bobby joined me in the line that was now moving again. We were one away from the front. A smile stuck to my father’s face while he pointed his thumb behind him. He’d found a parking spot that was right next to the sidewalk, leading into Hester Hall. “You see that, Bug?”

I nodded, looked away. “Yup. Smarter not harder,” I said, mumbling the words before he had the chance to say them.

He nudged me and then wrapped an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me in. “I’ve taught you well.”

My first thought was to flee from the affection. It was overwhelming, even from Bobby.

Any bit of physical love, my body rejected. A side effect that came post-Rena. Instead, I squirmed a little, but I let the hug happen. He was already beginning to miss me.

“Good ol’ Bobby Boy!” a faculty member said. He had dark brown skin and a charming smile, but he was older, probably about Bobby’s age, with peppered hair growing in on the sides of his head. There was familiarity there, but I couldn’t place why.

“Duke!” Bobby said. “It’s been, what, ten years? Maybe more since I saw you last. How the hell are you?”

They shared an awkward dap handshake, and I saw the flushing in Bobby’s neck as he took a step back to rest his hands on his hips before quickly removing them. He wasn’t normally this inept, but he seemed displaced for a reason I couldn’t figure out.

Bobby shook his head. “You’re the dean of students now, I hear? Congrats on the accomplishments, man.”

Duke stood behind the check-in desk, handing out packages with folders and keys to the Resident Director beside him.

These were the first people we’d greeted—mostly because it was required to get into the dorms—and already Bobby was being recognized, by a faculty member, at that.

It was precisely why I didn’t want him in uniform.

Duke smiled. “Right back at you, Chief,” he said, sharing a wink.

I collected my dorm room key and fob for the building.

There was no chance to get away before Bobby pulled me over.

“Duke, this is my daughter, Mira Owens. Mira, this is Duke. I don’t know if you remember him, but back in the day, we played ball together.

Our private schools were in the same league, but this guy wiped us out every single time.

” Bobby snorted at himself as Duke and I exchanged greetings.

“That’s right. I remember you, Mira. Time flies, man,” Duke said with a glistening white smile.

“I could have sworn you were going pro. We were all rooting for you out here.”

“You know how it is—sometimes life has other plans for us. Speaking of, my boy is here this year, too.”

“Oh, no way. Which one? Playing basketball, too?”

“The youngest, believe it or not, and football actually. Second-string quarterback.”

Bobby rocked back on his heels. “What? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ll have to check out one of the games.” Bobby nudged me. “Do you remember Seven? When you were younger, our graduating class had a reunion game, and you played with him in the bleachers.”

I pressed my lips together as a few memories resurfaced.

I was eight or nine. We connected because we were in the same grade.

Even at that age, he was taller than me, and I remembered his springy brown hair, his heterochromatic eyes.

Seven had laughed at my jokes, and it was the first time I truly felt funny.

We’d spent three hours together that day, and by the end of it, I’d developed my first crush.

A gripe rose from behind. Upon looking, a white woman with a beet red face widened her eyes at my glance. It was the heat. The waiting. The extra conversation that wasn’t particularly needed. I huffed, slightly annoyed but understanding.

“We’re kinda holding up the line.”

Bobby looked behind him, flashed a grin and apologized in his sheriff voice. Then he turned his attention back to Duke. “Good seeing you, man.”

As we walked away, Duke followed, asking Bobby to step to the side. They were still in earshot when he leaned in. “Maybe I can give you a call later to talk about some of the animal attacks close to the city? Precautions, you know?”

Bobby nodded. Gave him a firm shake.

Duke stepped back after, waved at me. “Welcome to LLU, Mira. We hope you love it here.”

We thanked him and headed to the truck to unload.

“And you said it wasn’t a uniform.” I smirked.

Bobby shook his head and laughed under his breath.

“Why were you so nervous around that guy anyway?”

Bobby scratched his chin, released a breath of air.

“He was freakishly good at basketball. His team never lost a game. And you’ve seen me play.

” Bobby gestured toward himself, a dapper smile pinned to his brown face.

“You know I’m great. But that guy …” He looked back to where Duke stood under the tent and whistled. “That guy played on the level of gods.”

Bobby grabbed the last box from the bed of the truck as I held onto a bag. He followed me up the sidewalk, through a foyer, and into a long corridor with fluorescent lights.

My room was three doors down, with white cinder block walls and pale blue carpet that desperately needed to be covered with a rug. It was long and rectangular, with a double-paned window overlooking a lush forest.