Page 55 of Blood Moon

Thou art bound by the turbulence of becoming.

Article I, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

All I remembered was screaming and then Julian removing his seat belt to wrap his arms around me as the airbags launched. It was indiscernible how many times the car flipped, but I should have been dead.

When the car stilled, Julian kicked a hole through the bottom so we could escape. My ears rang, and my head spun as he helped me out. All of it happened so quickly, and the car toppling over took us further away from the wolves than expected.

“We have to run!” Julian yelled, pulling me through the tall grass. There was so much noise, I couldn’t focus on a single thing. I just knew we were running toward lights and buildings, and then we crossed some invisible threshold that marked the state line.

Julian stopped, and I stopped with him, panting and trying to stay grounded. Eyes glowed in the dark behind us. The same eyes I’d seen outside of my room weeks ago.

It had been them this entire time.

A hand waved in my face, my ears still ringing as Julian tried to get my attention.

Sound returned slowly, and then all at once.

He was urgent, looking me over. “Are you okay?” Julian asked, but he was far from it.

His left arm hung loosely to the side of his body and scratches covered his face and legs; blood dripped onto his shoes.

“I think your arm is broken.”

He tried to stabilize it, holding it to his body while he ripped the edge of his shirt to create a sling. “It’ll heal. We have to move. There are ways for them to get around the treaty. This will only stall them.”

“What? Isn’t the whole point of a treaty to not break it?”

“Politics,” he said, and he moved forward.

“Julian, wait. Where are we going to go? We don’t have a car or phones.”

“West, into the woods. We can’t be seen by bystanders looking like this.”

We hurried into the trees on an unmarked trail. I was unsure where we were headed, but it became clear that Julian was following a scent.

Every few yards he winced in pain, jaw locking, eyes squeezing tight.

“I can’t change in this state,” he grimaced.

“We’ll be on this trail for hours, and I’m too weak to carry you.

I’m sorry.” He seemed so defeated. I wanted to tell him it would all be okay, but it would only be a lie that neither of us needed.

My dress caught and tore on the underbrush, and the soles of my feet grew raw as they blundered over sticks and prickly tree pods.

To make matters worse, rain began to fall, passing quickly through the leaves. I had to bend my knees to keep from slipping, and everything was ruined. My hair. This dress. My life. All an eonian spiral of piling shit.

“Here,” Julian noticed, removing his shoes, hair falling wet in his face. “Take these.”

“No, I can’t.” He’d already done so much, broken himself. If not for me, we wouldn’t be here.

He continued to hold them out, thrusting them toward me. “Take them.”

I looked him over again, inflating with dread. “Your feet, they’ll—”

“My feet will be fine, they’ll heal. Yours won’t.” He placed them by my feet, and I stepped in, swiping the rain from my eyes.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice sunken, lips trembling as the rain showed no signs of relenting. I hated this version of myself, so emotionally frail. It was impossible for me to stop once I got started. Throat thick with sorrow, I said, “And thanks for … for everything. You saved my life again.”

“It seems that keeps happening, huh?” Julian’s words were almost stolen by rainfall, so I moved closer.

“You don’t get it. My existence prior to this was mediocre at best. My mother leaving was emotionally jarring, and it wounded me inside and out, but I’ve never been a magnet to anything this detrimental.

I just can’t comprehend why this is happening now.

If my blood is so precious, wouldn’t they have come sooner? I’ve had eighteen years of living.”

“You don’t think you’ve ever experienced anything out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

He looked at me, tilted his head. “Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Yes, really. I feel like I’d know,” I said, and doubt came rolling in at the same time as I stepped in a puddle, mud splattering my legs.

“I think you’re oblivious to it. That necklace you were wearing—it’s a ward, remember?

It stops people with the intention of hurting you from doing so.

Do you know how much that encompasses? It’s not just physical harm, Mira, it’s magical harm, too.

” I’d already considered the oddity of the family heirloom, questioned how Rena got her hands on something so powerful.

“But I haven’t worn that necklace every day of my life. Plus, Julian, this is all new to me. You were born into this world, and I’ve only discovered it in the last two weeks.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He winced again, and we decelerated. “I’m trying to find a way for you to understand that … that I don’t believe you’ve been sheltered from this world the way you think you have.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, while yes—this is all new to you, and you haven’t had to wear that necklace everyday—it’s also possible that someone close to you kept the scent of your blood hidden from creatures like us.” Hidden? Had Rena been capable of doing something as adept as that?

“Hidden how?” I asked, but we came to a halt. In front of us was a mature cottonwood tree, a hollowed-out hole in the base. Without hesitance, Julian reached inside, pulling out a navy hiker’s bag, covered in leaves.

“It’s an emergency station,” he said, answering my question before I asked. “For cases like these.” There was a tent inside the bag, along with supplies, dry goods, and water.

A break from the storm came. Still, it was a challenge to assemble the tent with water dripping into our eyes and mouths from the hoarding leaves above.

Julian was also in an unspeakable amount of pain.

He wouldn’t admit it outright—we were comparable in that way—but I witnessed it all: the way his jaw twitched as he bit down in agony, the limp he’d developed from the uneven path we’d trekked, the fresh blood still coming from a wound at his side.

He was down an arm, spine bending with each step.

He refused to see how every part of him was falling apart.

Aside from a few bumps and bruises, my ankle was the only thing in a substantial amount of pain.

If I swallowed hard, it subsided enough to ignore.

“I’ll take it from here.” I gently pulled the poles from Julian. He tried to refuse, this I foresaw. Likewise, I was convinced he’d start a fight with me, perhaps remind me how ungrateful I was, but for once, he needed me, and this was the only power I had.

Like a sad weed, he gave in, released his grip. Head down, he staggered to the tree and leaned against it while he held his arm.

I allowed myself a single breath before I went to work. Once the tent was pitched, we rushed inside, escaping the new downpour. Julian unpacked a battery-operated lamp and turned it on. Soon, he was tossing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt in my direction.

There was a single towel, which we shared, drying off as much as we could. I set Julian’s shoes to the side and gave him a look.

“What?” he said, mouth half-full as he peeled open a granola bar with his teeth.

“Thanks for the clothes. If you could …” And I signaled a turning around motion with my fingers. “… that would be great.”

He chuckled as he turned around, the sound almost incredulous.

I hadn’t heard him like this in days. “Some things never change, huh?” he said, and just like that, I was remembering it all.

Those last moments of being draped around him, like the wind touching the surface of water.

Head against his shoulder, nose close to his neck.

Fingers brushed my hair before I woke; his thumb lingered above my cheekbone.

If time had been forgiving, I would have crawled into his skin, relived those last two days from his perspective.

Maybe then, I would’ve been prepared for when he inevitably pulled away. But we were only friends …

The rain drummed against the tent, and I almost broke the zipper of the gown as I tried to get out of it.

“Julian, what happened?” I asked, and when the words came, they stung as they forced themselves out.

“Was it something I did?” He’d been so avoidant, heavily guarded, but that was before.

Before we were on the run. Before he’d stretched himself around me to keep me safe as we tumbled in his car.

And he just kept saving me. I didn’t know how much more of it I could take.

“It was because of me,” he said.

“That’s so bogus,” I said, dressing in the clothes Julian had given to me. They smelled of wet wood and dead grass. “And you know it.”

“I know it sounds that way, but—”

“But,” I interrupted.

“I’m not supposed to be around you. Because of …” he trailed off, facing me as he sensed I was dressed.

My shoulders folded in, and I sank further into the ground, so exhausted from simply existing. “So, it was me,” I said, my voice timid and small beneath the sound of rain. Of course, it was.

Julian tried to move closer. “Mira, please don’t,” he said, eyes burning into me, but he couldn’t see how I was already turning into stone.

“This is so much bigger than you. I know you want to simplify it, to make yourself feel like you have an answer by taking the blame, but trust me when I tell you it’s so much more complicated. ”

At that, I decided I no longer wanted to discuss matters of fate.

It would only turn my sadness into anger; already, I felt it simmer in my chest. “You said you’re a vampire and a wolf?

” I asked. His existence was perhaps part of one of the largest pivotal moments in their history—and maybe because of that, they were that much more sensitive to my bloodline. It was only a guess.