“It’s a simple herbal tea from Tibet.” Maggie sounded puzzled. “Why would I drug you when I need to warn you about the Atrox and the Followers?”
“Followers?”
“The victims of the Atrox, the Followers,” Maggie explained. “The Atrox steals their hope, sucking it from their soul. Then they become predators themselves, stealing hope from others, trying to replenish their own and feel alive again. But their hunger is never satisfied. They become masters of deceit. They look like anyone, you or me, but they hate the moon because it is a symbol of Selene and represents goodness. Under a full moon, their eyes turn phosphorescent, and even ordinary people can sense their evil.”
“So why aren’t people aware of them?” Vanessa argued. “If they can see their eyes and sense their evil, there should be squads of police fighting them.”
“A woman sees a glint of yellow in a stranger’s eye and rather than trust her instincts, she thinks it’s her imagination. It’s amazing how far people will go to deny what is all around them.” Maggie sipped her tea, then continued. “The Followers also hate timepieces, not digital ones, but watches with hands and, of course, sundials. Anything that reminds them of their eternal bond to evil. It won’t stop them like a crucifix is reported to stop a vampire, but it will cause them to start.”
Vanessa thought back to that first night when she had felt someone following her. Her alarm clock had been turned toward the wall and her wristwatch had been turned upside down. Could one of the Followers have climbed into her room and changed her computer program to make her think it was the crescent moon so she would walk home alone in the dark? It could just as well have been Serena or Jimena who had climbed into her room. Serena had done it once. Why not twice?
Maggie continued, “And they can never harm a person who does a genuine act of kindness toward them. Evil is so unprepared for that. But then, I suppose few people have ever acted kindly toward them.”
Vanessa didn’t want to hear any more. It was definitely bye-bye time. Maybe Maggie had been a teacher who had gone mental from the stress brought on at school. Perhaps Serena and Jimena had cruelly thought that Vanessa would find this sad woman’s trouble entertaining. She glanced at them and felt a chill settle over her. They looked deadly serious.
“Can I use the rest room?” Vanessa asked. She’d use it, then come back, make excuses, and go.
“Of course, my dear,” Maggie handed her a candle.
“I’ll just turn on the light.” Vanessa started to excuse herself from the table.
“I don’t have electricity.”
“Oh.” Vanessa was startled. “I’m sorry you had your electricity shut off.”
“The electricity wasn’t shut off,” Maggie said indignantly. “I never had it turned on. I don’t believe in electricity. I avoid it when possible. It destroys the magic of the night.”
Vanessa looked around her. For the first time she noticed the utter lack of electrical appliances; no microwave, no television, no dishwasher or refrigerator.
“Electricity and certain other so-called conveniences have caused modern populations to lose touch with their deeper intuition, not to mention what they can’t see. Electricity.” She formed the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. “In ancient times people saw the magic in the night. The day, too. But today? How many people do you know who can really see? I can’t understand why people insist on ignoring the beauty of the mythical world. How many times do teachers say it’s imaginary? Or parents?”
Vanessa shrugged, took a quick step back, and stopped. Her knees felt too shaky to hold her. She sat back in the chair with a thump.
Maggie leaned over, blue eyes tense, and spoke quietly. “The greatest strength of the Atrox is that modern people no longer believe the demonic walks amongst us. So you see why it is so important that you defeat it.”
“Me?” Vanessa said. “I’m going to destroy it, like vampires, with a stake?”
“Not like vampires.” Maggie shook her head. “I’m talking about an evil more ancient than Transylvania’s undead. The spirit who tricked Lucifer into his fall.”
“You want me to fight that?”
“You have no choice. That is what you were born to do and it is my responsibility to guide you and to help you understand your powers. Your breed is descended from unconquerable warriors. Remember their courage and never dishonor them.”
Maggie seemed to sense her disbelief. “My proof, dear, is in your gift.”
“Gift?” Something twisted inside her. Her heart beat quickly and she couldn’t breathe.
“Your ability to become invisible.” It was a statement.
Vanessa felt herself plunging into a whirlwind of emotions. She had always wanted someone to explain her strange ability to her, but she had always thought the answer would come from science; a failed government project, a strange overdose of radiation, some experimental medicine her mother had taken while she was in the womb. She could even accept being from outer space more easily than this. A goddess? Weren’t they supposed to be sweet and lovely and make flowers bloom beneath their feet?
Vanessa stood and grabbed her bag. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. But even as she was trying to deny it, another part of her mind was recalling the shadows and the nightmares. If it were true . . .
“It can’t be true,” she shouted. And then she ran.
She hurried down the fire stairs and out into the cool night. She didn’t believe any of the ramblings about the Atrox and its Followers, so why did a cold fear grip her chest?
“Goddess.” she let the word linger in her mouth. She didn’t feel divine. She had zits and cramps and worried about people liking her. She looked up and saw the moon creeping over the buildings.
“Mother Moon,” she whispered. She felt awestruck. Could it be? But if it were true, if she were a goddess, then that meant the Atrox was also real. And its Followers, were they somewhere nearby? She turned and looked at the shadows hovering around the cars and trees. She had never felt so alone and afraid in the night before.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AN HOUR LATER, Vanessa walked into the kitchen. Her mother was at the worktable drawing lotus flowers, vines, and paisleys on a sketch pad. A mehndi cone lay on the table next to a plate of cut lemons.
“Hi, baby, what do you think?” Her mother held up her hand. She had painted her nails bright red and decorated the skin with a black design. “I can’t decide if I like the geometric designs or the ones I’m working on now.” She picked up a white cone. “Let me draw the new ones on your hand.”
“Don’t you know how to make chocolate chip cookies?” Vanessa yelled. Her emotions had been clashing inside her since she left Maggie’s apartment. Frustration and anger had won and had been building as she walked home. Now her whirling emotions exploded into the room. “That’s what mothers do. They do things to comfort their daughters.”
“Vanessa.” Her mother sounded more worried than offended. “What is it?”
Vanessa dropped her bag and slumped into a chair at the table. All week, she had wanted to tell her mother about Catty. She had planned to several times this week, but every time she started, it felt too much like closing the door to the tunnel. If her mother knew, then it would be true.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“Did you and Catty do something weird again? She’s been getting you into trouble since you were both eight years old.”
“No, we didn’t do anything weird,” Vanessa said.
“But you mooned—”
“Mom, we didn’t do anything.”
“Well, it’s pretty embarrassing when your daughter has to appear in court because she showed her buttocks in public.”
“Mom, do we have to repeat these old arguments again?” Vanessa said with a heavy sigh. “This is really important.”
“All right.”
“Mom, what would you do if you found out something about me personally—”
Her mother broke in. “There’s nothing I coul
d hear about you that would change the way I feel. You’re my daughter. I love you.”
“Mom, I’m . . . I’m very different from what you think I am.”
“Let’s talk about it. We have chocolate chip cookies. How long has it been since we ate cookies and hot cocoa?”
“You can’t make everything okay with cookies and cocoa. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I wasn’t trying to make anything better. I thought it would be nice. We could have a long talk.”
Vanessa stood. “Maybe later. I think I’ll sit outside.” She didn’t want to sit around moaning over her problems. She needed a solution. Serena had said she was going to take her to see someone who might help her find Catty. Instead, the visit had added to her worries.
Her mother looked at the window over the sink. The moon shone huge and ivory yellow through the kitchen window. “You’ve always loved the moonlight. It seems to relax you.”
Vanessa looked outside at the moon. “Do you think there is a goddess of the moon?”
“Oh, several,” her mother answered.
“No, I mean for real.”
“I was answering for real.” Her mother pushed back her chair, then walked over to the sliding glass door, opened it, and stepped out on the patio. The night jasmine filled the cool air with its sweet fragrance. “God must have many spirits to help. We call them angels because that’s what we learned to call them when we were little. But there must be many divine beings who act as God’s messengers. I think there’s room for a goddess or more. When you look at the beauty of the moon it’s easy to believe.” Then her mother turned and looked back at her. “Vanessa, why are you crying?” She gently wiped the tears from Vanessa’s cheeks.
“Mom, where did you get this moon amulet?”
“It was a gift from a woman at the hospital the night you were born. I thought you liked it. You wear it all the time.”
“You didn’t question her?”
“Well, no. She was a sweet little thing and she fussed over you. She said you reminded her of her own child. I didn’t see any harm in taking it and it seemed to make her so happy that I did.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember. What’s wrong, Vanessa?” Her mother looked concerned and put her hand on Vanessa’s shoulder.
“Nothing really,” Vanessa lied. “Just regular stuff, and I’m tired.” She wandered into the yard.
“Vanessa, tell me. Something’s troubling you.” Her mother started after her but stopped suddenly as if she sensed Vanessa’s need to be alone. “Don’t get too cold,” she said with worry in her voice.
Before she slid the patio door closed, Vanessa spoke. “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“I know,” her mother said quietly, and closed the sliding glass door.
Vanessa sat in the lounge chair near the hibiscus. The milk of moonlight bathed the trees and lawn with pale magic. She leaned her head on the pillow. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
In the gibbous moon’s glow, her molecules became restless, urging her to give in, become invisible, and float over the city. She shouldn’t. Not tonight. She was too anxious, her thoughts too mixed. Focus was impossible.
Her skin began to prickle. Ripples like tiny waves washed down her arms. Her heartbeat raced.
“Don’t,” she pleaded. Her body disobeyed her. A chill rushed through her and her molecules began to spread. She glanced at her hands.
“Stop,” she ordered. But her fingers refused her command. The tips of her hands became fuzzy. She blinked. She could no longer see fingers or palms, only feel their essence. The clothes next to her body became invisible, their molecules aroused by the forcible change of her own. Then her body levitated, as light as air, the transition complete. She floated to the kitchen window. Her mother sat at her worktable drawing designs she would paint on movie stars.
Her mother turned suddenly and looked out the window. “Vanessa?” she said as if she felt her daughter’s closeness. She looked quickly around the kitchen, then shrugged and went back to drawing.
Vanessa glanced back at the lounge chair. Her sandals and blouse were still there, not enough to make her mother worry or wonder. What could she do about it anyway? Her mind was jangled, unable to concentrate and pull the molecules together. She would have to wait until they came together on their own.
She drifted into the night air, rising higher and higher. A breeze carried her as gently as a bedtime song. The moonlight permeated her molecules, bathing them with hope. Catty would return. She felt sure now. She continued on, riding the night air. Maggie and the strange tea party fell further and further into a blur of memory.
She was near Sunset and Vine when a sudden gust hit her hard. She hadn’t been prepared for a change in wind. Before she could collect herself and dive for shelter, another rush of air caught her. Her molecules scattered in two directions. She concentrated hard and almost had them back when a blast whistled into her and spun her into a dangerous vortex. A strong uprising wind split her apart.
Cold seeped into every cell. Even with total concentration she could no longer feel all of her body. Toes, knees, and femurs were gone. Not invisible, just no more. Panic set in. This had never happened before.
Wind thrashed and whipped. Another gust slammed her into the palm trees that lined the street. The palm fronds slashed between her remaining molecules and swept them in different directions. Her mind became confused. Her eyesight blurred, then left.
Silence and darkness cradled her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE MUSIC WAS FAINT at first. The beat struggled to find her. Had she been unconscious? The music grew louder and pulsed through every cell. Her molecules gathered. The cadence seemed to regulate her heart. It was becoming strong again. Her eyesight returned. She was no more than long thin bundles of cells, but at least now the cells were absorbing oxygen through osmosis. The side of a building protected her from the raging Santa Ana winds.
She hovered, a transparent veil high over the heads of kids waiting to go inside Planet Bang. It was teen night again. She recognized some of the kids in line.
A gust of wind screamed down the side of the building and blew her through the entrance. It was dark and hot inside and smelled of sweat, cigarette smoke, and musky colognes.
She wavered over the freestyle dancers. The strobe light flashed and cut their dance into freeze-frame clicks. The boys stomped close in a savage circle. They shouted their crew name with the beat and waved handkerchiefs to flaunt their colors. Blue lasers swept over the girls on the periphery of the circle, hips rolling in soft, smooth spins.
Club kids stood near the deejay, dressed in outrageous costumes of turquoise feathers and sequined velvet. Couples stopped and admired their outfits. The club kids posed and danced in their private Mardi Gras parade.
Other kids lolled in dark corners, zombied out. They’d probably paid some homeless guy to buy liquor for them in a corner shop.
Vanessa was lower now, eye level with the dance crews. The pulse of the music beat through her. Her feet found the rhythm and she started to dance, close with the girls. She lifted her hands. She liked the heat and sweat of dancing. She followed the lead of the dance crew, hips in line, and thought of Catty dancing with light sticks and Christmas tinsel.
A hand touched her back. She hadn’t realized she had become visible.
She turned abruptly. Morgan stood behind her, all smiles.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were allowed to come here after what happened last week.” She wore a zip-up top, a silver pull ring dangling seductively at the base of her throat.
“I’m not.”
“Cool.” Morgan grabbed Vanessa’s arm. “You’re dropping that goodie girl attitude. I like your outfit. It’s a Mom-would-die-if-she-saw-me choice.” Vanessa glanced down. She was wearing the lacy see-through camisole over her bra. Her yellow drawstring slacks had thankfully made the trip, but she was barefoot, except for her to
e rings.
“This place is definitely a blues buster,” Morgan said. “Staying home and crying is a waste of time. All it does is make your nose red and your eyelids puffy. Let’s meet those guys over there in the corner.”
“I’m not staying,” Vanessa turned to go.
“Why’d you come, then?” Morgan took her hands and pulled her across the floor. “Your hands are as cold as ice. Why are you so nervous? Is Michael coming?”
“No, really, I’ve got to get home. I’m grounded.”
“That’s a new one,” Morgan commented. “Then how did you get here?”
“Long story.”
“Right, you’re checking up on Michael. I know the game. Look over there.” She motioned with her head.
Seven boys stood in the dark away from the reach of the strobe lights. The tallest leaned into the flash of white light as if he knew they were talking about him. It was Stanton.
“Any one of those boys could love me to death,” Morgan said. “How can there be so many cute boys I haven’t met yet? Isn’t life fabulous?” Her voice was a little too frantic, like she was trying to chase the sadness away.
“Maybe you should be careful,” Vanessa warned. She wasn’t in the mood to say hi to Stanton or any of his friends.
“Those boys look like they need someone to tame them. I’d just be doing my duty.”
“Morgan, do you ever think of anything besides boys?”
“Sure, clothes and style. I must be doing something right, haven’t you noticed?”
“What?”
“Look at how many girls are wearing a tassel of mini-braids like I wore last week. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”
“Yeah, if that’s important,” Vanessa muttered.
“It’s everything.” Morgan pulled her through a line of dancers to the smoke-filled corner.
“I think I’ll start a diet tomorrow.” Morgan kept watching. “It’ll change the way I feel about myself.” She pinched a nonexistent roll of fat on her thigh.
“Morgan, what century are you living in?”
“I’m just trying to get your mind off Catty. I’m teasing. You know I don’t believe all that stuff I say.”