Page 39 of The Folklore of Forever (Moonville #2)

Thirty-Nine

Amorgic moths: Silver, hummingbird-sized parasect moths attracted to the cables of energy between soul mates. Appear only during storms, and become frenetic when feeding on lightning/electricity. Their mundane disguise is the luna moth.

Paranimals, A through M , Tempest Family Grimoire

In short order, we find ourselves up a tree, with Alex securing Romina to a branch with his belt.

“This is an overreaction,” Romina insists. “I haven’t taken a test yet. And a week isn’t much—it could be nothing.” She nibbles on her nails, betraying that she hopes it isn’t nothing . Romina wants to be a mother, and while I bet she didn’t plan on that happening right now, I know my sister: the only reason she hasn’t taken a pregnancy test yet is that she’s already grown attached to the idea that she might be having a baby, and she’s worried she’ll see a negative result.

“You might be pregnant,” Alex says, uncharacteristically dazed. “And there is a lion in the…there is a bear in the…”

“Don’t forget the emu,” Morgan adds helpfully.

“Whoa, buddy.” Luna helps steady Alex when he starts to sway. He threads his hands through his short hair, eyes widening as he likely begins to compute whether he’ll build a crib with pinewood or oak, and the shortest distance to the maternity ward in Athens.

“Stay where you are, Romina, and think tranquil thoughts, okay?” He begins to climb down the branches. Pauses. “Focus on the sound of the river! Let all of your stress wash away. I love you!”

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Romina calls, then freaks out. “Oh no . You’re going to punch the lion in the face, aren’t you?”

Trevor gives Alex a thumbs-down as he descends past him. “Booooo. How dare you knock her up at a time like this? We were finally gonna go to Coachella!”

Romina points sternly at Trevor. “We are still doing that. You hear me? Don’t you dare sell my ticket.”

“Oh yeah, like you’re gonna wanna walk around the desert with a big ole watermelon in your stomach.” Luna snickers.

“It’ll be fine,” Trevor assures her. “Lana Del Rey can deliver the baby.”

Romina turns to him, excited. “Oh my gosh, can you imagine ?”

They begin to discuss the likelihood of Lana Del Rey agreeing to be the baby’s godmother, and whether she might write songs about a Coachella baby ( Indio Child and I Heard the Baby Crying on a Friday Night While Singing About Dying are top candidates for eventual album titles).

Alex settles himself on the lowest branch so that he can punch any lions in his girlfriend’s honor if the need arises.

“If the lion eats you,” Trevor tells him, “I’ll raise your baby as my own. Don’t worry. I’ll find a private school just like the one in School of Rock , and Little Ro will have the most sublime baby sneaker collection. All the other babies will be jealous.”

Alex drags a hand down his face.

“That is comforting, Trevor,” Romina tells him, sounding genuinely touched. “Thank you.”

I adjust the baby sling, Forte’s weight digging the strap into my neck. “You still haven’t told us what you’re all doing out here in the first place.”

“We were worried you might be in trouble,” Luna replies, as Trevor cuts her off:

“ Luna was worried Morgan might be in trouble.”

Luna throws Morgan an apologetic glance. “It’s just that most of your footwear is vintage. And, you know.” She gestures to me. “Zel might have left you for dead if you inconvenienced her in any way.”

“Hey!” I cry.

“I brought three pairs of sneakers for you to choose from,” Trevor tells Morgan. “Since your shirt is pink, I’d go with green. Opposite on the color wheel, for maximum pop.”

“Aw. Thanks, man, you’re the best. Any chance you brought food, too?”

“Yeah, I brought burritos.”

We cheer.

“But I got hungry, so I had to eat them.”

I groan. Morgan groans. The lion groans (hungrily).

He’s found us and is working up an appetite prowling the base of our tree, shaggy golden mane abuzz with flies. He isn’t exactly skinny, which makes me wonder what his diet usually consists of. And how lions (and tigers and elephants) have managed to form a habitat in Moonville’s backyard. But, to make the scenario all the more bizarre, this lion has the tail of a betta fish.

It is glorious.

His elegant fins stream and flow as if that part of his body is underwater always. Morning sun pours through his fins’ webbing to light them like stained glass, beautiful and fiery. A lionfish. Black Bear Witch, whoever you are , I think to myself, you’ve certainly got a sense of humor .

“Aghh!” Romina shouts. “It’s back! Alex, punch it! Wait, don’t punch it. It might eat your arm. You have the best arms.”

A chunk of rock kerflunk s down the side of a cliff next to our tree. More chunks come raining after it. I turn away to avoid dust clouding my eyes. “Falling rocks,” I warn everyone.

“In Falling Rock Forest?” Alex pipes up. “Inconceivable!”

Morgan calls him an ass, Romina threatens to fight Morgan, Luna reminds her that she can’t fight anybody because she might be pregnant, and somebody yells, “Did you say pregnant ?”

We all look up. Aisling and Cannon are clinging to the cliff face.

The sound that Luna unleashes is the closest that any of us, on this side of mortality, will get to hearing the gates of hell wrench open. “Aisling Gwenelieve Tempest! You were supposed to stay home!”

“I’m going to be an aunt!” Ash sings.

“Cousin,” I correct.

Cannon is in tears. “I’m so sorry! I told her it was a bad idea. She made me do this. I wanted to stay home and practice tempering chocolate!”

Luna swears. Apologizes for swearing in front of Cannon. “I knew I should’ve left you two with Alex’s mom and Miles. You know better!”

“I’m not sure that I do know better,” Ash replies honestly. “I can’t believe you were gonna deprive me of seeing a lion.” Her right foot slides in its hold, more rocks crumbling away. The shards of cliff bounce and skitter to their deaths far below. The lionfish sneezes as dust billows into his nose.

“Hold on,” Luna tells them. “Mommy’s coming.” She begins to crawl across tree branches, working her way in their direction. The bough I’m perched on wobbles when her weight sinks onto it.

I scrabble to stay in place. “Careful!”

“I’m saving my babies,” she hisses.

Crrrraaaaack!

My branch snaps. Luna grabs the one above us and I fall to the one below, swinging upside down with the backs of my knees gripping rough bark. My long hair spills like a ladder for the lionfish to climb, its tips hanging just above his swatting paws. “Sit up!” Luna yells, as if she isn’t responsible for how I got into this position.

An upside-down Forte falls out of his sling.

“ Pliggguck shhurr! ” he yowls, legs kicking, parachuting into a grand piano in midair. He falls with a melodic thunk onto the lion. The piano rattles, yowls, and shrinks back into a gingersnappus, scrabbling back up the tree.

“What happened?” Trevor screams. “Why aren’t I wearing a body camera at all times?”

“I think a tree branch fell on the lion,” Alex says.

It certainly wasn’t a tree branch, but in all the commotion, nobody saw what happened clearly. Or perhaps their brains rejected the sight of a cat turning into a piano. They’ve endured too much for one day.

My sisters haul me upright just as the blood pooling in my head begins to pound, and catch me when I get the spins.

Aisling risks her grip to get a better view. “Is the lion all right?”

The lionfish is grumbling, fins switching furiously. “I think so,” I say. He decides he’s had enough of this and lopes off in search of an easier meal. We watch him disappear into the trees.

I inspect Forte, who pins his ears back and scratches my arm. Seems to be in normal spirits.

“Gas leak,” Alex is muttering as we climb down. “Forest gas. A mirage. We’re all dehydrated. Only way to explain lions in the woods.”

Once we’re on the ground again, Luna hugs her daughter tight. “I’m so happy you’re safe. You are in the biggest trouble.”

“The smartest thing to do now is stick together,” Alex tells us, as Trevor shouts, “Split up! It can’t eat us all if we go in different directions!” Then he bolts.

Madness ensues.

Romina panics and runs after Trevor; Alex panics and runs after Romina. Aisling pounces on the opportunity to escape her inevitable grounding and tries to peel off with a reluctant, regretful Cannon in tow. Luna tracks them down, and soon I hear whining.

Morgan yanks a hand through his hair. “You need to stay with Zelda!” he bellows. “You idiots! She’s the only one who can sense where to go!”

We return Forte to his sling, then take off after them.

“This way!” I call, doubtful that anybody but Morgan hears me. “Well, they got themselves here. They can get themselves out, I guess.”

“They’re going to run into that bear.”

“Or the emu.” I lean my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about the witch. I really hoped you’d get some magic. Now we’ve lost the opportunity, as well as our tent, and there’s nothing else to do but go home.”

He kisses my forehead. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we do.”

He is the most impossible creature in this whole forest, but a different sort of impossible than the definition I’ve pinned to him so far. He is impossible like a waraver or a unicorn—something you think you’ll never, ever find even if you search your whole life, and then one day, you do. I wrap my arms around him, basking in how right he feels. “You are a gorgeous man, Morgan Angelopoulos.”

“That’s my line.” Morgan smiles, eyes crinkling. “Are you going to kiss me now?”

“That is exactly what I’m—” I stagger when my elbow knocks into something solid, and we turn abruptly. There is a cabin. Right beside us.

“Where’d that come from?” he exclaims. “Did you notice there was a house there?”

“Guess we weren’t paying attention.”

We appraise a steeply pitched roof, black split-log walls, a door with an oak leaf and the words This Is a Tree, Nothing More carved into the wood. “What on earth does that mean?” I utter, tracing the grooves of Nothing More with my thumb.

“I dunno. Looks abandoned, though.” Morgan checks behind us. “Might be a good place to hide from lions, tigers, and bears.” He brushes his arm against my shoulder, winking mischievously. “And from your sisters, so that we can kiss some more in peace.”

“Ooooh, yes, that sounds like an excellent plan.”

We eagerly tumble through the door, which smells like maple and whiskey, and end up…

In a spring meadow.

“How?”

“What!”

“Why?!”

We’ve teleported to a pastoral tableau of gentle rolling hills, wildflowers, trees pushed all the way back to the edge of the horizon. A topiary spreads before us, glossy shrubs pruned into the shapes of rabbits, cats, bats, and a boxwood creature that might be a mole mixed with a dragon. There are no roads, but there are ponds, and a lone shop that closely resembles The Magick Happens—except without our banner of purple, gold, and green, and the window boxes are overflowing with marigolds rather than Romina’s coral bells. Standing out front of it, clutching a threadbare carpetbag, is a tall man with wavy brown hair and suspenders.

“Hey, there!” Morgan waves at him in greeting.

“Where are we?” I call out. “It’s like we’ve landed in another town.”

“And another season,” Morgan remarks. “The temperature must’ve risen at least eight degrees.”

The man sighs, setting down the carpetbag as he ambles toward us. “Oh, for heaven’s sakes.”