Moon Mourning (Samantha Moon Origins Book 2) Page 4

  Tammy lifts her gaze from her excavation and peers at me. Utterly calm, she tilts her head like a bewildered puppy. “Promise you won’t give up on me? Or Anf-nee.”

  Most of my fingers crumble away to ashes, the black seep crawling up my wrists onto my forearms. My feet disintegrate. Skin on my thighs and stomach bubbles and melts off. Neither of my children reacts whatsoever to my apparent spontaneous combustion.

  Again, I try to scream, but only manage a wheeze.

  Danny notices the smoke billowing away from me and frowns. He gestures at the woman in the orange bikini as if to say ‘hang on a moment,’ and comes walking toward me, looking annoyed.

  “You’re going to hurt them,” says Danny, while snatching Tammy and Anthony off the beach and backing away from me.

  No! I try to scream, but my body won’t listen. What’s left of my arms dissolves into a cloud of black ash particles as I sit up and try to reach for my children. Danny pulls them away, back to the woman I can’t stand.

  Finally, the agony trapped in my throat flies into the world on an anguished scream. The force of the sound wave that blasts out of me swats Danny to the beach. He lets off a strangled gurgle and curls up in a ball. Seconds later, he collapses into a mass of inky vapors, the tendrils of which whirl around Anthony until he breathes them in.

  Horrified, I stare down at myself, watching flesh immolate away. The sky I so adored has gone from blue and cloudless to a rolling inferno straight out of Dante. I’m in so much pain I can’t even feel it anymore. In seconds, my body’s nothing but a set of blackened bones in the smoldering remains of my bathing suit.

  I jolt upright in bed, shaking, but somehow not screaming.

  Danny’s no longer beside me.

  The clock on the nightstand reads 11:14 a.m.

  Gasping for air, I raise my hands, terrified of what I may find, but to my relief, they’re only shaking. No ashes, no burns.

  I’m not even sweating.

  “Not real,” I mutter to no one in particular.

  Minutes pass in silence of me doing nothing but staring at my hands, basking in the relief of seeing myself whole and not crispy-crittered. I think my heart’s even racing. It’s beating about twenty times a minute.

  Figures, it had been a nightmare.

  Chapter Six

  Dusk

  My eyes open again at the ring of the house phone. I don’t remember lying back down after that horrible dream, but I’ve clearly been sleeping since the clock has leapt to 1:52 p.m. The space between staring at my still-intact hands and losing a few hours passed in an instant. Well, I guess no dreams beats bad dreams.

  “Sam?” asks Danny from the doorway. “Are you feeling all right? I figured I’d let you sleep since you seemed so out of it yesterday.”

  I raise a leaden arm to my face and wipe at my eyes. The bed’s like a magnet, trying to pull me back down. My eyes don’t want to stay open, but I can’t sleep all day, dammit. Grunting, I swing my legs over the side and stand.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah… I’m okay. I just feel… overtired or something.”

  And I don’t have to pee. Again.

  That truth alone gets my hands shaking from fear. It’s almost five days now and I haven’t gone to the damn bathroom once. This isn’t normal. Hah. As if peeing represented the entirety of how not-normal I am right now.

  “Umm, there’s a guy on the phone for you. Says he’s your brother.” Danny points with his thumb toward the kitchen.

  “Wow. Really?” I force myself to walk down the hall.

  In my groggy half-aware state, I don’t notice a patch of sunlight on the rug from the bathroom window until I put my foot in it. Like I’d stepped on a hot frying pan, I let out a yowl and leap forward, hopping on one leg. My right foot’s lobster red and wisping smoke.

  Danny catches me before I fall over. “Whoa! Sam…”

  “Mommy?” calls Tammy from the living room.

  “I’m fine,” I half-yell, before gritting my teeth against the pain. “Just stepped on something painful.”

  “What on earth?” Danny stoops to examine my injury.

  The redness, and the feeling my skin’s coated in a layer of boiling oil, fade in a few seconds, leaving us both stunned.

  I blink at my again-unhurt foot. “Guess I’ve got that xeroderma thing you were talking about yesterday, huh?”

  “That’s…” Danny stares into my eyes with the look of a frightened boy. “I don’t even know what I just saw.”

  “I don’t either.” I cling to him. “We’re in uncharted waters.”

  “Hey.” He lifts my chin with one finger and smiles as soon as we make eye contact. His fear’s gone, replaced with the same outward confidence he throws off in court. “We’re going to get through this. Whatever it takes, I’m not going to rest until we’ve got this handled. Okay?”

  I wasn’t buying it. After all, he’d sounded this self-assured before when facing his first judge, and I knew for a fact he’d been terrified. It was his first case, and I’d gone along to lend moral support from the audience seats. The whole car ride there, he shook, sweat bullets, and muttered about how everything could go wrong… but as soon as he got going, he’d turned into the super cool, poised litigator who’s smiling at me now. Like that day, he’s probably terrified. Then again, I am too. Can’t fault him.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Something’s burning?” asks Tammy from the archway to the living room. “Stinky.”

  “It’s nothing.” Danny nudges me toward the phone and scoops Tammy up. “I was cleaning the stove.”

  Tammy glances at me as if she doesn’t quite believe him. And she shouldn’t; after all, her daddy just lied to her face. All because of me and my condition. I go a different route and try to convey the idea that ‘you’re too young to worry about it’ with my facial expression. She shrugs, looks at Danny, points into the living room, and starts telling him about something Barney’s doing.

  In the kitchen, the phone’s balanced sideways on the cradle. I grab the handset, lean against the wall, and say, “Hello?”

  “Sammy,” says Dusk, my middle brother and one year my junior. “How ya doing, kiddo?”

  His voice is tinny and the line crackles with static. “Kiddo? I’m only one year behind you. And I’ve been home from the hospital for about three days. Nice of you to finally check in on me.”

  “Aww, don’t be like that, Sammy… I’m in friggin’ Belarus. Not the easiest place to get news. What happened?” A pair of older-sounding female voices argue in the background, not using any language I can recognize.

  I twist my finger around the phone cord while jabbing my big toe at the kitchen floor. It’s a touch bitchy of me to snap at him for waiting so long to make contact considering he’s on the other side of the globe… and no one else I’m related to aside from Mary Lou has even bothered. Again, my family’s not exactly what one could call ‘close.’ As far as I know, there’s no active animosity anywhere… we just drifted apart and never looked back.

  Except for my sister. Damn! What am I going to tell her?

  Danny mentioned he’d gotten through to River, my eldest brother, but he’s in Louisiana working on some construction project. Out-of-state contractors do some bizarre thing where they work twelve hours a day for weeks without a day off, then take a couple months off. I remember hearing once that he goes all over the country for these jobs. He’s away so much his wife must feel like a widow getting a pension from a mysterious benefactor.

  “Sorry,” I say, and mean it. “I’ve been having a crazy couple days of it.”

  A horn blares by in the background over the phone. “I’m sorry, sis. What happened?”

  I don’t have a ready answer for his question. Hell, I don’t have ready answers for my own questions. “I’m still not entirely sure. Something or someone attacked me when I was jogging―”

  And that’s all I get out before my younger brother veritably leaps through the line. I spend
the next few minutes reassuring him that I’m all right. He goes off on a tirade of swearing, and I remember all over again just what a hothead Dusk can be.

  Dusk would be a helluva name for a vampire.

  Where the heck did that thought come from? Talk about a non-sequitur.

  Anyway, when I’ve calmed him down―and appreciating his feisty, brotherly concern more than I care to admit―I finish up with: “I guess it looked a whole lot worse than it was. I’m home already and I feel okay. Lot of blood but the wound was shallow. It’s almost gone now. No one looking at me would even suspect I’d been mugged. So… Belarus, huh? How’s the art thing going?”

  The arguing old ladies get louder. Even not understanding a word being said, I get the feeling someone’s about to get clubbed over the head with a purse.

  “Eh, it’s all right. Kinda living off the kindness of strangers at the moment. Doing odd jobs here and there. Seeing the world before I’m too old to walk. Been emailing this guy in New York about the evil.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Did you say ‘the evil’? And what are those women fighting about?”

  “Huh? What women?”

  “The ones arguing behind you somewhere.”

  Rustling comes over the line for a few seconds. “Oh, holy crap, this phone’s sensitive. There’re a couple old women down at the corner. Looks like they’re trying to choke each other.”

  Eep. A normal person wouldn’t have heard them. I let it go. “So, uhh, what’s ‘the evil?’”

  “Ahh.” Dusk laughs. “A day job.”

  I blink. “You are contemplating a day job?”

  “Well…” He sighs. “I’m almost thirty-five. Figured since I haven’t become a famous European painter by now, I could try a different approach.”

  “Doing what?”

  His voice exudes a smile. “Art teacher. What else?”

  “And be stoned all day in class like Mr. Haltemeyer?” Who was, of course, our high school art teacher. Stoner or not, he had set Dusk on the path of art and travel. Or getting high and wandering aimlessly.

  He cackles. “Well, yeah, but I’m not going to spend my days quite as blazed as he was.”

  Hah! Back then, all the kids floated the rumor he had a giant bong in his desk. I still don’t know for sure if the man had been toking between periods or if he just smoked so much at home he stayed high all day.

  “Oh wow. You know, I heard he’s still there. Guess Principal Monroe never searched his desk.”

  Dusk laughs. “I’m sure things won’t be quite as laid back in New York as they were in Cali.” A sharp click comes over the line. “Oh, crap. About out of money here. So, you’re really okay?”

  “As far as I know. Nothing hurts and I seem to be alive.” Mostly. “New York? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, it’s the only nibble I’ve got so far. And, cool. Hey, I gave Danny an address you can use if you need to get in touch with me at least for the next few months. If you need―”

  The line drops.

  I sigh, whispering, “Thanks for thinking of me, Dusk.”

  After hanging the phone up, I trudge into the living room. Danny’s sitting on the floor with his back against the front of the couch, Tammy beside him. Mercifully, they’ve dethroned the purple dinosaur. Danny’s put on an old movie: The Black Cauldron, which might be a little much for a four-year-old, even though it’s a cartoon.

  Anthony wobbles across the room and goes face-first into the pot of our giant fake plant to the left of the TV. I start to go after him, but he grabs the curtain to pull himself up and yanks it open a few inches, blasting me with the glaring late-afternoon California sun.

  Like I’d had a pot of boiling water thrown on my face, I scream and jump back, scrambling for the safety of the hallway. Everything is a panicky blur until I’m on my hands and knees a few feet inside the master bedroom, coughing on smoke. It feels like air is moving in and out of my mouth through holes in my cheeks, but that terrible sensation stops after a second or two.

  “Mommy?” Tammy runs in behind me. “Why did you scream?”

  Anthony’s frightened wailing reaches my awareness.

  I sit back on my heels, keeping my arms in my lap so Tammy hopefully can’t see the burns. Lying to my kids bothers me, but she’s not equipped to deal with this. Hell, I’m not sure I am. “I saw a big spider.”

  Tammy gasps and runs back down the hall to the living room, shouting for Daddy to get rid of the spider.

  Without thinking, I dart to my feet and run to check myself in the bathroom mirror―and stare at a hollow nightgown.

  Crap.

  I recoil from that horror and hurry out to the bedroom, waving my arms to clear the smoke. Once the crazy itching in my face stops, I test my cheeks with probing fingers and all seems to be smooth and where it should be. My arms aren’t red anymore, either. Whew. Only seconds in the sun and I felt like I’d body surfed a hibachi grill. Incredulous, I gaze at my unblemished arms for a moment more, and let them fall slack at my sides.

  “Yup. This is definitely not normal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Scary Sam

  By the time I get back to the living room, Danny’s mostly got Anthony calm. The poor little guy thought I’d yelled at him for pulling on the curtain; luckily, neither one of the kids realized I’d turned into the Amazing Combustible Mommy.

  It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

  With the kids calm again, Danny talks a little about work. He’s going to need to go to court in a few days to represent his client. That part, he can’t do from home. I’m fine with him going back. The last thing I want is for him to feel trapped here because of whatever’s happened to me. And honestly, I’m not helpless or even sick. Just… tired. Well, during the days. Last night… well, last night I could have done anything. I really believe that.

  He’s seen me burn twice now, and it’s probably out of the question to ignore that it happened. While the kids are engrossed in the movie, I lean close to him and mutter that I read a little about XP and saw that some sufferers use sunscreen.

  “Worth a try,” says Danny with an appraising frown. “We should probably get you back to the doctor’s for a look.”

  “Maybe.”

  He gives me a parental smirk. “More than maybe.”

  “Look, it might clear up.” Staying positive. That’s me.

  “I”―the doorbell rings, saving my ass―“got it,” says Danny.

  Not taking any chances with errant rays of sunlight, I get up, too, and move around behind the sofa, edging backward into the hallway.

  Danny opens the door. “Oh, hey. Come in.”

  Mary Lou walks in with her brood. Or maybe spills in might be a better way of putting it. Ellie Mae, her six-year-old, beelines for Tammy while Billy Joe zooms down the hall for the bathroom, both hands clamped over his butt. Mary Lou starts to smile at me but a curious glance at all the drawn curtains distracts her. It’s the first time she’d been here since I got back from the hospital… which had only been two days ago.

  Her youngest, Ruby Grace, stops short a few steps inside the door and stares at me. “Mom?”

  Mary Lou twists around to look down at her. “Hmm?”

  “Why is Aunt Sam scary?”

  “What do you mean scary?” Mary Lou glances at me for a second then back to her.

  Ruby Grace fidgets. “She’s got scary eyes now. I don’t think she’s mad at me, but if she was mad at me, I’d be really scared.”

  “I’m not mad at you, sweetie.” I put on my most reassuring smile.

  As soon as Danny shuts the door, muting the sunlight, a tangible wave of relief sweeps over me.

  “Aunt Sam was hurt a little while ago and she’s still feeling sick. You know how grumpy Daddy gets when he’s sick.”

  “Yeah.” Ruby Grace nods. “He’s a grump.”

  The two-year-old (months shy of three) joins the other kids on the rug. She’s already talking like a four- or five-year-old. Smart kid. She’
ll either be a scientist when she grows up or a holographic radio host… or whatever it is that the future holds for us.

  Mary Lou gives Danny a ‘need a minute’ glance before taking me by the hand and pulling me down the hall to the master bedroom. Once we’re inside, she eases the door almost closed, faces me, and half-whispers, “Okay, spill.”

  “Spill what?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “Sam.” Mary Lou hugs me. “You’re white as a ghost. You’ve got the curtains drawn on every window in the house, and you’re on edge. I can see it all over your face.” She leans back and stares into my eyes. “Yeah, you look different even from just yesterday. Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  I look down, knowing she’s right. Hell, I could almost feel myself changing hourly. “I’m not really sure what’s going on, Mary Lou. Danny thinks I might have some weird skin condition that’s making me sensitive to sunlight.”

  “Porphyria?”

  “No… Xeroderma pigmentosum. I’m getting sunburned in seconds now.”

  She gasps. “But you’re a beach bum!”

  I let out a wry laugh. “Not anymore… at least, not unless whatever’s going on with me is temporary.”

  “Well, we can get you to a doctor and have them check everything out.” Mary Lou fusses over me. “Let me get a closer look. And why are you out of your bandages already?”

  I reach across my chest with my left arm and idly scratch where I’d been torn open. The doctors had told Danny the extent of my injuries, even if he hadn’t seen them. And, Mary Lou had been there as well. Both had heard the doctor say I’d probably never speak again. I could always downplay the extent of the injuries, hoping Mary Lou accepts the idea the doctor may have been wrong. Then again, maybe I should come clean to Mary Lou. Coming clean is the least-desirable option, because not only does it make me sound insane, I still haven’t figured out what is happening to me. And if she sets her mind to it, Mary Lou could pry every last tidbit of information out of me. She’s had years of practice at it from her job as a claims examiner. Worse, she’s not working at the moment so she can wrangle three kids full time since Rick’s doing well enough that they don’t need two incomes. I bet she’d jump at the chance to get into that old mode. Once Ruby Grace is older, I’m sure she’ll go back to it. She adores doing the stay-at-home-mom thing for her kids, but she’s itching to keep her mind busy.