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Chapter Forty-Seven

LUNA

Serafina’s room is bigger and has two huge sliding doors that lead to the terrace covered with a canopy. She opens them both all the way. I move the smallest table and one chair close to the opening, and Serafina moves her chair to just inside the threshold.

Alex doesn’t complain about us making the whole house cold with these big open doors and fires up the outdoor heaters instead.

“Is this okay?” I ask Serafina when Alex leaves.

“Yeah. I can see all the way down to the park.”

I look up at the splatter of clouds. A gap opens in them. “The moon is so bright.”

“Do you know what they asked me when I came? If I ever heard the moon sing. I’m like… what? Are you serious?”

“What did they say?”

“That old fuck was like, ‘Yes, we’re serious. We can’t hear it,’ and I just… tell me the truth. You’re some kind of witch or whatever. Do you hear the moon sing?”

“Do I… what? Like, from this far away?”

“So, you’re saying it does sing, but you can’t hear it?”

“No. I’m saying… if the moon did, would we even hear it?

It’s pretty far. And I am taking this seriously because you’re asking seriously, but the moon doesn’t sing.

Not for me. Not for the men who landed on it—though my mother told me that didn’t happen.

” I take a moment to dismiss the detours and get back to her question.

“I mean, wouldn’t someone have mentioned it? ”

A black bird lands on the rail. It looks too small to be Carmine. A second bird joins the first. Also too small. I wish for a third, bigger, smarter, bossier one.

“I figured it was personal. Like the way everyone masturbates but no one really talks about it.” She chews the side of her mouth, looking in the middle distance, then dismisses it all with a wave of her hand. “Speaking of your mother. Where do you think she went?”

“I don’t know. I hope she’s all right. I have so much to tell you.”

Just as I’m wrapping up the quick and dirty account of my mother’s arrival, where she was all those years and everything she taught me, Alex returns to place a tray of food on the table.

“Ms. Orolio, I took the liberty of bringing you an aranciata .” They hand over a bottle of orange soda and a glass with two ice cubes.

“Fuck you for knowing I wanted that before I did.” Serafina looks in her glass. “Ugh. And you didn’t put too much ice.”

“You’re most welcome.” Alex unloads the rest of the tray.

I dive into the burger, which is everything Serafina promised.

Juicy, just warm in the center, dripping with dark yellow processed cheese product on top and bottom.

Fried onions, chopped small so they don’t flop out like spaghetti, pickles just thick enough to crunch, cold where it needs to be cold, soft where it should be soft, melt-in-my-mouth holy shittery.

And the Coke… the glass was stuffed with crushed ice before it was poured, rendering it so cold my mouth tastes utterly white.

“It’s all right?” Alex asks as if the answer is a mystery.

“Good.” I shove a fry in before swallowing, and the salt, the seasoning, the way it warms my mouth with hot, steaming, crispy-outside, fluffy-inside starchiness is exactly what I always wanted but could never define.

With a smile, Alex goes inside.

“So, that thing before? With you catching that guy’s flying knife?” Serafina pours her soda into the glass which, in my opinion, needs much more ice. “Your hand okay?”

“Yeah,” I say around a mouthful and hold up my healed palm. “His super saliva venom heals.”

“That’s…” She laughs to herself. “Fucking strigoi has magic spit.”

I’d love to tell her what else he can do with his incredible sex venom, but why rub it in? She’s not going to be in my company that much longer unless something drastic happens.

Something drastic has to happen.

Three more chews, then I take a hard swallow.

“I guess we have time before he goes in for the Ossidiana Knife,” I say, picking at my fries. “Then… I don’t know.”

“You’ll go back to Naples.”

This is probably correct, but I don’t care about me. “And you? What do you want?”

“I don’t know. Like, what if they are my kin? What if I say no thank you and I end up on the street?”

“You can have my money. I won’t need it.”

“It’s not money. My father gave me my own accounts. I can get money. It’s more… out there, alone.”

“You can come with us.”

“For real, Luna, you cannot be this na?ve.”

“When it comes down to it, they’re not taking you. I can fuck them up. And Carmine? I don’t know how I’ll fight him, but I won’t let him do it.”

She pulls her sweater around herself. “Whatever. It’s cold.”

She doesn’t want to talk about it. Fine. I can manage a changed subject.

“Mom taught me a few things. Check this out.” I hold my hand out to the heater. “It may not work, but…” With a pinch of my fingers, the fire gets smaller.

“Nice.” She applauds. “Very nice.”

“Thank you, thank you. For my next trick…” I take another bite. “I have no more tricks.”

“Now I’m cold.”

Chewing, I hold my hand out again and wait for the tingle of valence lines. It’s only a moment before I feel them. I spread my fingers. The fire gets bigger, but I pull my hand back too soon and the heater tips over, falling toward me.

We both gasp. Serafina leaps up. My arm is out to ward off the heavy, flaming object, and somehow, that’s leaving the heater suspended at an angle, midway between standing upright and crashing to the floor.

“Shit.” Serafina reaches to right it, but it’s too far. She’ll have to come outside.

“I think I have it.” Gently, without touching the heater, I use the tingling in my fingers to push it back up. Then I swallow what I’ve been chewing.

“Bravo.” Serafina claps. “For real.” Her claps are slow, with real intention.

I stand and bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’d like to thank my agent, my publicist?—”

“Hey!” Serafina stops clapping and points across the street, at the park. “Did you see that?”

Under the canopy, I didn’t feel the drizzle, but now I can feel the cold fat drops on my cheeks. Down below, more shadows shift. I crane my neck to see and catch a slash of movement in the darkness.

“What is it?”

The bit of motion shifts onto the lit path and stops to sit. From this many stories up, it’s not much more than a silhouette, but it’s clearly a wolf looking up, watching.

Serafina leans as far forward as she can and lifts her hands with both middle fingers extended. “Fuck you!”

As if on cue, the drizzle turns to rain.

“What are they doing?” I ask.

“They’re making sure I don’t leave.” She drops back in her chair.

To see better, I go to the railing and lean over, letting the rain hit me. I can see a different part of the street. A figure moves from under a tree, and though I can only see the top of her head, I know who it is.

“Jesus, Mom.”