Page 49 of Blood Moon

We once called them fallen angels, but you didn’t see how she turned her halo into a thorn for me.

Article II, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

We rose with the fervent sun that Sunday, my legs wrapped around him, arm sewn into his chest, molded together so perfectly. Our bodies were slow to move, sharing sleepy smiles and warm sheets.

Speaking came later, murmurs as he rolled out of bed, keeping his back to me while he tossed my clothes on the blankets. I knew what he hid, and I chuckled as I slid on my jeans and he hurried to the bathroom.

In the dining hall, we had iced coffees and breakfast in a booth as I made Julian watch video after video on my phone. They were funnier to me, but a smile still found its way to his lips, even when he tried to conceal his amusement.

I watched the light in his eyes simmer and gradually fizzle to a kindling by the time we parted ways sometime after noon. My instinct told me to question him, but when the opportunity presented itself, he’d joke or say something to get us off topic.

It was as he walked away from me that I noticed how his shoulders and head plunged with something fiercer than gravity.

Every step he took was like iron on glass, making me feel as though he’d been disheartened by some unseen entity.

I debated if that entity was me, if I’d wronged him somehow, but when I planned on inquiring, he was nowhere to be found.

In the four days that passed after, I didn’t see Julian. But with the recent discovery, I knew that he was the wolf in the story, lupus in fabula. He’d been one all along, weaving himself in and out of each paragraph, waiting for me to find the sentence.

Once I had, I’d flipped through every page, imprinting myself in the corners and spine, folding it, breaking it.

Only now, Julian had disappeared again. With him gone, I refused to be alone, still so terrified of the price on my head.

In a fit, I worked out with the drill team, went dress shopping for homecoming, and clung to Stevie as much as I could, feeling like a burden.

I’d never been so dependent and needy—not in a long, long time.

When I wasn’t with the girls, I was with Naomi. We studied together, and she gave me a hard time about Julian and Seven. “You need to choose one,” she demanded.

“You said I should date them both.”

Naomi placed her pen behind her ear and propped her head up on her chin. “But that was before Seven asked you to homecoming and your weekend with Julian,” she said, batting her lashes. And I didn’t say anything. I just stared. “It means they’re overly committed to you.”

“We’re just friends,” I said softly, scribbling something down as I tried not to think about how much I missed Julian, and how concerned I was that I hadn’t heard from him.

There was a burning in my eyes that I sought to chase away, and the memories slashed me open nightly, slicing through the cracks of my ribcage.

At this point, I was convinced it was one of two things. Either the mystery woman had summoned him away for pack duties, or somehow, someone had discovered that he’d revealed his secret, and he was paying the price for breaking the oath.

Naomi twisted her lips, raised a brow. “Sure,” she breathed, and then she mimicked, “Just friends,” in a whiney voice. “Let’s just hope there aren’t any more fights over you.”

After homework, I convinced Naomi to stay the night on our couch. She was more than happy to be bundled between me and Stevie, watching reruns of old shows until we all dozed off.

The thing was, surrounding myself with friends only made me feel provisionally safe.

Flooding my mind was the piercing reminder that they couldn’t really protect me from werewolves or vampires, even if they wanted to.

The looming thought of being tracked scared me most. I had visceral proof that the vampires had been here before, and even during the day, if someone regarded me a little longer than expected, I’d flee.

At night, I remained inside, and I convinced Stevie to rearrange our room, so I could move my bed from the window. Precautions were necessary.

But in my sleep, I dreamt of werewolves that were larger and more vicious than Julian. When I ran from them, it was to no avail. Each sequence reminded me how similar I was to the woman in Van Helsing . Perhaps I was destined to meet my end soon.

In moments of desperation, I whispered Julian’s name while I ambled from building to building during the day, hoping he’d hear me just once. After all the time we spent together, I never asked for his number. Something I regretted now.

Still, he remained away, meaning he was too far to hear me, or he had chosen to ignore my call.

I was sloping toward the latter, and that sent a ripple of agony and self-loathing through me, neither of which I wanted.

I couldn’t fathom why he’d ignore me when we’d grown so close, when he longed for my friendship.

Vanishing at a time like this seemed immoral.

And then there was Sev.

The moment he returned to campus, he video called me with vigor.

We conversed about homecoming, the away game, and how he wanted to show me his tux.

Seven and I had coffee after classes, he crashed a few study sessions I’d planned with the girls, and he even offered to bring me dinner on evenings when I refused to leave the comfort of my dorm.

More notably, he was there. Always there.

And I was fortunate. Seven was the juxtaposition I needed to balance the somberness festering within me.

Only, there were instants where I’d find myself looking into his eyes and crumbling with guilt.

Seven doted on me with regality—an act I took complete advantage of, knowing fully that he could spend his time with anyone, someone more deserving.

As long as I stood in the way, it could never happen.

It was greedy, I knew—self-serving, phenomenally stupid—and none of that stopped me from impulsively consuming every second with him.

Toward the end of classes on Friday, I caught the flash of someone rushing across the Campus Center. There were people, so many people, but weaving between them was Julian.

The mere sight of him caused me to ache with rigid breath. “Julian,” I whispered, cutting through the crowd. Brown hair pulled tight into a bun. Light olive jacket, bag hanging from his shoulder.

He didn’t react. Didn’t stop. Kept going. “Julian,” I breathed again, heart throbbing at the base of my throat while I picked up my pace, afraid that once he cut a corner, I’d lose him.

I broke into a jog, and the second I got closer, he jerked to a stop. When our eyes met, I knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

That pensive stare and those gilded eyes now burned with ash. Another look, and he wasn’t wearing earbuds. He’d heard me through all this endless noise and chose to ignore me. My stomach swelled, and a tightness pressed at my throat on all sides. “Julian, where have you been?”

His grip tightened around the strap of his bag, and he looked past me. “Mira, hey.” Was that it? Was that all he had to say to excuse himself? A simple greeting, as if we weren’t who we were last weekend? As if I didn’t know the one colossal truth about him?

I waved a hand in front of Julian, hoping to bring his attention back. “Are you hearing me? Where have you been? What’s going on with you?” I took another step toward him, lowering my voice. “I’m worried sick about you.”

That hard exterior he’d built moments ago broke for a millisecond.

His liquid gold eyes seeped and soaked everything.

A stare that said he needed me. “I’m sorry, Mira.

” The words came draining out. “I’m not intentionally being a dick, I swear.

I’m not. There are pressing family matters that are overwhelming, and …

and it’s been incredibly difficult to manage.

” He stopped with that, measuring me in a way that told me there was more to the story.

And defeat. He looked so defeated.

“What can I do? Just tell me.” I repositioned myself closer to him, close enough that he blocked the light of the sun.

There wasn’t anything I wasn’t willing to share or do now that he knew the one thing I despised about myself.

I was prepared to carry the weight he bore to prove he didn’t have to do it alone.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he said too quickly.

I took a step back, face bruising.

Julian sighed. “Can I walk you to wherever you’re going next?”

I didn’t move. There was more, and I wanted to demand it out of him.

He reached a hand out, eager for me to drop it. “Please,” he said. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

I nodded, pursed my lips, because I couldn’t force him to do anything. It wasn’t a power I yielded anyway. “I’m going to the Student Center if you want to walk me there,” I mumbled.

Julian moved with me, keeping his hands in his pockets and a healthy distance between us as if the scent of my blood affected him after all.

We paused once we got to the building.

“I’m leaving campus for the weekend,” he said, and it triggered a flight signal in me.

“Wait, why?” The five days he’d been away were already worrisome enough. He didn’t know the growing urge I had to go wherever he went. I didn’t want to be left behind. Couldn’t afford the thought of him being away. “But you’re going to miss homecoming,” I added, as a way to mask how I truly felt.

“That’s your world, not mine.”

“Why can’t you exist in it, too?”

He bit down, his silence echoing.

“But even if someone asked you, you wouldn’t go?”

For once, he smiled. He smiled, and it felt like I had him again, like everything would be okay. “Are you going to ask me?”

My heart dropped, and I sighed. “No. I … I’m going with someone else.”

Surprise hit him first, then he put the pieces together. “Oh.” He took a step away from me. “Good luck with that.” And I saw how much that hurt him. But we were friends. We were friends. We were friends. That was all.

Julian stepped away, into the shadows of the crooked afternoon. “See you around, Mirabella,” he uttered, and before my next breath, he was gone.

I was left with this gut-wrenching feeling that I was the reason for his absence, and there, on the sidewalk, beneath the scorching sunlight, I felt my soul rip and pour into the cement, hemorrhaging silently, perpetually, disturbingly into every crack.