Moonlight Calls (Demon's Call Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Sara was in her
late fifties when she took me in.  She died a few years ago, but I had a happy
life because of her.”  

She was the only
sense of family I had ever known.  I was so young when my parents passed away,
and the good Catholic ladies at the girl’s home where I had spent my youth
seemed to always be against me, steering potential parents in the other
direction.  I felt shunned, though I never knew why.  It had been puzzling and
painful, but Sara had come along.  She’d insisted on taking me specifically. 
Apparently, she had known my mother’s family back when she was a child, and had
started looking for me when she found out that my mother died.

“I’m going to go
get cleaned up,” I said, heading toward the bathroom.

Ailis gave me a
bright smile, probably hoping to erase the conversation.  “Thanks for all your
help,” she said sincerely.  “You’re right.  I owe you dinner.  Something loaded
with carbs.  And drinks.”  I nodded and smiled back before making my way into
the bathroom.

 I closed the
door and leaned against it.  All of this was old news- ancient history. It
usually didn’t affect me this way.  For some reason, being around Ailis seemed
to bring out all my
feelings
. I squared my shoulders and focused on
cleaning up.  I’d done enough emoting for the day.

The cool shower
made me feel refreshed, but my mind was still dwelling on the past.  I could
hear Ailis banging around in the kitchen as she made dinner.  I donned my fuzzy
bathrobe and slipped into my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.
Without really thinking, I went to the back of my closet and pulled a tattered
shoe box off the top shelf.  Crossing the room, I sank down on the big rug,
leaning my back against the bed.  My hands moved of their own accord, slipping
the big rubber band off the shoe box and carefully taking out each item.  I
spread them out in front of me in a fan shape. Chronological order.  It’s a
ritual I’ve had since I was six years old.  People that knew my family, trying
to be helpful, had given me things here or there, saying I might want them when
I was older.  They were right, of course.  Adults understand the pain children
have yet to fathom.

I touched each
item with a finger as I glanced at them, assuring myself they were real.  I
don’t know why I kept them, locked away from sight.  It all seemed personal,
somehow, like a secret part of myself I only acknowledged when no one was
looking.  There was a five by seven photo of my parents on their wedding day-
white dress, black tux, hopeful smiles, the whole nine yards.  Then a picture
of my Dad awkwardly holding a little swaddled bundle.  A picture someone had
snapped of the three of us at a neighborhood picnic-right after our food
fight.  Then the newspaper clippings.

The first
clipping was the first in a series of reports regarding the disappearance of a
local woman.  Her blue sedan was found abandoned at the side of a
seldom-traveled country road, where it had apparently left the roadway, rolled
several times, and struck a tree.  There were no signs of the woman, who was
believed to have wandered into the woods in a state of confusion after the
accident.  Later reports would say she must have been carried off by wild
animals or fallen into the nearby river and been swept away.  One even hinted that
she had killed herself. Each report was shorter than the next, as people
gradually lost interest in the story.  The last one was a single sentence that
simply said no leads had been found in the case.

I was still
sitting on the floor, staring at my past, when Ailis poked her head in to tell
me dinner was ready.  She didn’t say a word.  Most new roomies probably would
have just backed out and shut the door. Instead she came in and sat next to
me.  She studied each picture and newspaper clipping in silence.  It was odd,
silently sharing this with her, but it made me feel better somehow.  Like
telling someone a secret you’ve been keeping for a very long time.

“I barely
remember them,” I said, finally.

Ailis nodded. 
“I bet you remember more than you think,” she tapped my head lightly.  “It’s
all in there somewhere, even if you don’t know it.”  She was right, to some
extent.  Sometimes, when I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, I would
let my mind wander and I would have some sudden memory, like my dad putting
training wheels on a little pink bike.  I could distinctly remember his golden
brown eyes sparkling down at me when I managed to ride it all by myself for the
first time.  But the memories were faulty, flawed by imagination.  My dad’s
eyes had been blue.  And he’d never cared for me.  If he had, he wouldn’t have
just walked away and left me.

Unaware of my
thoughts, Ailis shrugged.  “I lost both my parents too.  Years ago.  But I
still remember them.”

I put all the
stuff back in the shoebox and went to put it back on its shelf.  “Thanks.”

She understood. 
“Dinner is ready,” she said lightly.  “Mashed potatoes…bread… lots of carbs.” 
I grinned and pulled a t-shirt and jeans out of my closet.  Food, conqueror of
all my woes.

“I’m there.”

Ailis and I fell
into a comfortable routine over the next couple of weeks.  She was out of town
on business a lot, and I had crazy, erratic shifts at the hospital.  We both
seemed to share the philosophy that when we actually
had
free time, it
was nice to just relax. I loved the fact that we could both be home, but never
get in each other’s way. We spent a lot of time together, but I never felt like
I had to fill up the gaps with meaningless conversation.

We had spent the
whole afternoon in comfortable silence.  I read the latest sci-fi book by my
favorite author while Ailis surfed the net on her shiny laptop.  I had an old
desktop, but it had been relegated to the desk in my room once Ailis moved in
and brought her super computer.  Of course, then we’d had to get the shiny new
walnut desk and the unbelievably comfortable chair.  It had been disgustingly
expensive.  But I loved it.

Ailis looked up
from her intermittent clicking.  “How about gray in the living room?”  She
asked absently, her eyes still scanning the furniture on the website.  “Then we
could get this red sofa.”

I shrugged. 
“Jewel tones?  That would be kind of cool.”  Not that I could ever afford to
buy a new couch.  Maybe a lamp.  A really cheap lamp that wouldn’t match any of
her stuff.  That’s about it. 

We kept up in
the same vein until it was quite late, eventually giving up our respective time
wasters and moving to the sofa.  I probably should have been sleeping by now,
but I had tomorrow off and I was living it up- that is, if you consider
lounging around in shorts and a camisole drinking margaritas with your roommate
‘living it up’.  I suppose it’s all relative. I accepted my newly filled glass
from Ailis, propped my fuzzy red slippers on the solid oak coffee table, and
leaned back into the couch cushion with a sigh.

I was trying not
to notice that Ailis was steadily replacing my yard-sale junk with expensive
things.  Over the last couple of months we’d gained a new living room set, a
dining table with matching chairs, and a pair of bookshelves.  I was also
trying not to wonder where she got the money.  She said she was a secretary for
a local businessman.  Louis Argenou was a rich tycoon, but there were rumors
about the true source of all his money.  I really had my doubts about her over-night
business trips and late hours at the office.  For all I knew my roommate was
involved in something shady.

I sipped at my
drink, making sure to lick some of the salt off the rim.  I wasn’t much of a
drinker, but I indulged on occasion.  I’d had several already and was
sustaining a nice glow, my cheeks flushed and rosy, and my limbs heavy and
relaxed.

My roommate, on
the other hand, was looking less than rosy.  If anything she looked paler,
though no less beautiful.  I watched her covertly as she crossed the room to
the stereo that had magically appeared there last week.  Her motions were
smooth and graceful.  She put in another CD and music curled softly out of the
speakers surrounding the room.  I closed my eyes and let the music soak in.  It
was something dark and pulsating with a hint of metal to it.

Ailis crossed
the room and plopped down on the other side of the couch.  There was a whisper
of paper as she picked up the magazine she had been leafing through.  We were
in the middle of a discussion about what hairstyle would look best on whom, as
if we were two teenagers at a slumber party.  I opened my eyes to find her
watching me with a soft smile on her face.

 “I think this
one would look best on you,” she said as her smile widened.  The microwave
dinged in the kitchen and she hopped up.  “That’s the popcorn.  Be right
back.”  She set her drink down and rushed out of the room.  Obviously, the
drinks weren’t affecting her nearly as much as they were affecting me.  I felt
all languid and lazy, while she was hopping around like a bunny.

I closed my eyes
again and let my head drop back onto the couch.  What was I going to do about
Ailis? I had always considered myself to be straight.  Until now I would have
said that I preferred men.  However, I had noticed, in an off-hand sort of way,
that I liked to watch her.  I loved her beautiful grace, the sound of her soft
voice.  Lately I had begun to notice little things like the way her eyes
crinkled when she laughed, or the way her full lips parted when she was
excited.  I didn’t really think much of it, until I caught her looking back. 
Once I’d noticed, it was hard to miss.  Whenever we spent time together, her
sharp blue gaze followed me around the room like I was something to eat.

 I was not
prepared for this.  I had no objection to exploring a relationship with another
woman.  If you love someone that’s all that matters - no matter how much the
good sisters at the orphanage would have said otherwise.  But I had absolutely
no experience in this area and I was really confused about what I was feeling. 
I’d never dated a woman before- it had never even occurred to me.  So why was I
suddenly interested now?  What if I was reading her wrong?  I didn’t want to
make an ass out of myself.  And why in the world was it that I couldn’t seem to
stop thinking about touching her?

Ailis’s return
was preceded by the smell of microwave popcorn and I opened my eyes in time to
see her come into the living room with a giant bowl of the stuff.  She set it
down on the glossy coffee table and scooted it toward me.  “No way,” I said
shaking my head “I can’t do it.  It’s all yours.”  I’d had way too much to
drink.  And it was past the point where food would make me feel better.

She laughed at
me as she scooted the bowl toward herself and took a handful. S he resumed her
position on the couch and placed the magazine across her lap as she popped the
fluffy kernels into her mouth.  “See this one,” she said around her last
mouthful, “they call it
bedroom curls.”
  She rolled her eyes and
laughed, paging through the whole set of photos.  “
Nymph Locks, Harem Chic
…honestly,”
She said, flipping the cover to glance at the name of the magazine, “where did
you get this thing?”

I put my drink
on the coffee table and leaned closer to look at the picture of a skinny model
with perfect blond curls pulled up into a messy bun at the crown of her head. 
I laughed sourly, imagining my own short, curvy frame and frizzy hair next to
hers.  “Sure,” I said sarcastically, “you can do anything with your hair when
you’re a six foot tall, eighty-pound, blonde.” 

“It would look
much better on you.”  Her breath was warm on my neck as I leaned over the
magazine.  A wave of warning washed over me and I sat up.  I squinted at her,
searching for the haze of color that I knew was there, just out of sight.  Her
aura was pulsating.  I managed a calm, doubting shrug.  How could she be so
fascinating and so scary at the same time?

 “Let me show
you,” she said impulsively.

She rummaged
through her purse to come up with a large compact mirror.  Handing it to me,
she turned sideways and reached behind me.  She gathered up my unruly hair into
a pool on the top of my head, gently picking out small tendrils and encouraging
them to curl around my ears and temples, and down the back of my neck.  I
looked in the mirror.  I had to admit, it was flattering.  Then I glanced at
Ailis’s and my hand shook, destroying the image.  She was looking at me with
unguarded longing.  I was hit by a sudden rush of desire.

I set the mirror
down and took a deep breath.  The atmosphere suddenly felt very charged and I
was beginning to feel beyond awkward.  No matter how hard I blinked, her aura
wouldn’t settle down.  I picked up my drink and took another long sip, feeling
the alcohol rush through my veins.  I turned abruptly to face her, looking for
some way to keep the conversation going.

Latching onto
the first thing that came to mind, I reached out and ran my fingers through her
thick, shiny, red hair.  I had often wondered if it was a soft as it looked. 
It felt like silk under my fingers.

 “I love your
hair,” I said softly.  My voice was husky.  I couldn’t seem to draw a full
breath.  She looked at me then away, a light flush on her cheeks.

“Thank you.” 
She took a shallow breath.  “When I was growing up, I was teased mercilessly
about it.  Red hair was a seen as a curse back then.”  I wondered just what
kind of backwater burg she’d grown up in.  Even the people in this podunk town
weren’t so insensitive.