Moon Dance Read online

  He snorted. “Stop it, Carter. Humility doesn’t suit you. Anyone in your position would be looking forward to what will happen a few months from now.”

  Well, he was right about that, at least.

  “How often are you handed an excuse to have sex with a young, nubile—”

  “The power’s what I’m excited about.” Certainly, I was going to have sex with her. The ritual demanded it. But the ritual wasn’t about sex. It was about the acquisition of power.

  “This one ugly, then?”

  I poured water into the coffee maker. “No.” She was stunningly gorgeous, if he really wanted to know. She had very light skin and very dark features, and she resembled a porcelain doll, pretty and delicate. And then there was her body, her genuine hourglass figure, like something out of the Civil War, with an impossibly tiny waist and swelling hips and breasts and... I turned the coffee maker on. “Personally, I’ve really never been attracted to younger women.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about you and Adelaide.” He raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t think she’d be very excited at the prospect of your ogling this girl for weeks. The girl’s in your freshman acting class, isn’t she?”

  “Adelaide and I haven’t been seeing each other for months,” I said. I thought he would have noticed, but either Adelaide and I had been more discreet than I’d thought, or Marcus didn’t pay much attention to my love life.

  Adelaide was the dean of students. She was an attractive woman in her early fifties, and we’d been occasional lovers last year, my first year teaching at Thornfield College. I’d always been more attracted to older women, even when I was younger.

  That didn’t mean I only had sex with middle-aged women. Certainly, when I’d been in college myself, I’d had a few encounters with my peers. But girls in their early twenties had no idea what they were doing. They seemed to think that because their bodies were so firm and supple, all they needed to do was show up. And they were clingy and insecure.

  No, I’d much rather be with a woman who knew what she was doing. I preferred mature women, like Adelaide.

  Hell. Maybe I kind of liked the fact that they seemed a little bit... well, grateful. I was twenty-six and a fairly attractive guy if I didn’t say so myself. I liked being appreciated.

  Adelaide had broken it off with me. I didn’t really remember what excuse she’d given. Considering our relationship had been primarily physical, I wasn’t too upset about it.

  “Months ago?” Marcus showed me a leering grin. “Then there’s nothing standing between you and that girl.”

  I sighed. “She’ll be in my class. She’ll be my student. Besides, I don’t have any interest in her besides as a means to an end. You seem intrigued. Why don’t you fuck her?”

  He went red suddenly, opening his laptop in a hurry. “Of course not. I’m a happily married man.”

  Of course. I was beginning to think that I should go on a quick walk until the coffee was done. I didn’t feel like talking to Marcus anymore. There had to be some excuse I could make up to get away from him. Something in my office, maybe?

  “I will say that the society chose wisely in you,” said Marcus, his voice quieter. “I was here the last time, you know? I was a junior professor, like you. I think Todd had a much more prurient interest in completing the ritual than you seem to.”

  Todd Armstrong. He was the last member of the society to complete the ritual. He’d died in the spring, and because of his death, the energy he’d funneled into Scales and Fangs was fading. That was why there was a need for another ritual. Another girl. “Well, I assure you, I won’t let the guilt eat into me the way he did.”

  Armstrong had shot himself. His suicide note detailed how guilty he felt over what he’d done to that girl twenty-one years ago.

  I found it astounding. Armstrong had money, houses, cars, and power. And it hadn’t been enough for him. I wasn’t going to go soft the way he had. I’d give the society its due. And then I’d enjoy the fruits of the ritual. Teagan Moss? I wouldn’t give her another thought.

  Marcus wasn’t looking at his laptop, I realized. He was looking at me, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t believe you will be guilty, Carter. The society chose you precisely because of your lack of scruples.”

  * * *

  Teagan

  “You’re flushed,” said Aunt Libby. “You had the dream again, didn’t you?”

  I pushed past her to the refrigerator. “Don’t be silly, Aunt Libby. I’m fine.”

  Aunt Libby raised her voice. “Kate, Sarah, get in here. She’s had the dream again.”

  I got out some jam and butter and set them on the counter. I wished I’d never told my aunts about that dream. But I was thirteen when I got it, and I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.

  I’d had a very sheltered childhood. My aunts insisted on homeschooling me until high school, and they only gave in then because I begged and pleaded. Public school was a culture shock for me, but a welcome one. I finally had been able to hear other viewpoints besides my aunts’. And I’d had the chance to join the theater department. Acting had saved me. It was my passion and my joy. I’d known from the first time I stepped on stage that it was the place I belonged. It had been like coming home.

  I’d been considered weird in high school, and I hadn’t had many friends. Afterwards, I was still solitary. I left the house to go to work and for the community theater productions that I did. Acting was still the only thing I wanted to do.

  That was why this scholarship to Thornfield was so wonderful. I finally had a shot at doing what I loved, and I got to get away from my aunts in the meantime.

  But when I’d first had the dream, I’d only been thirteen. I didn’t even know what sex was. I didn’t know what the dark man was doing to me, I only knew that I liked it. And back then, I told my aunts everything, because they were all I knew.

  But the minute they heard the dream, they freaked out.

  It wasn’t a dream, according to my aunts. It was a vision of the threat of the Evil Ones. And the only way to make sure that these threats never came to pass was to keep me close.

  After high school, I would have moved out if I’d ever been able to save up enough cash to do it. But the little money I made always ended up getting eaten up in various ways. Helping my aunts with grocery money, paying for my mother’s medication, taking care of the electric bill. I had begun to think that I’d never get away from them.

  And then... the scholarship.

  I pulled out two pieces of bread and put them in the toaster.

  Aunt Kate and Aunt Sarah rushed into the room.

  My aunts all resembled me. We were all dark, round women. When I looked at them, I saw exactly what was going to happen to my ass in twenty years. I wasn’t looking forward to it. One of the few things I had going for me was the fact I was relatively attractive.

  Thinking about the size of my ass, I put the butter back in the refrigerator. Two pieces of toast with jam was about... three hundred calories? The butter would pack another hundred on there, and I’d barely taste it. I could let it go.

  I turned from the refrigerator, and I was swarmed by my aunts. Kate and Libby grabbed my wrists, and they tugged me out to the kitchen table, where they forced me to sit down.

  “I’m running behind as it is,” I said. “Can’t we skip the purification thing?”

  “Teagan Angela Moss,” said Aunt Kate, “you have no idea how much danger you are in. Every second of every day, the Evil Ones seek you out.”

  “They want your light,” said Aunt Libby.

  “That’s precisely the reason you shouldn’t be going to this college,” said Aunt Sarah.

  My shoulders slumped. I wasn’t going to get into the argument about going to Thornfield again. I’d won a full scholarship from that monologue contest. It paid for everything—my books, my lodging, the whole nine yards. If my aunts thought I was going to give that up, they were crazy. This was my ticket out. I was twenty-one years old
, and I was finally going to get to go to college. They weren’t stopping me, especially not with their crazy talk of the Evil Ones. But if I had to pick between getting the purification chant or arguing about Thornfield, I’d pick the chant. It was quicker.

  Aunt Libby bent over me and made a cross on my forehead with scented lavender oil.

  Kate and Sarah lit smudges of sage, and they began to swirl the smoke around my body.

  I shut my eyes. I wished they’d hurry up already.

  “Teagan Moss, answer yes if you are a servant of the sky,” Sarah’s voice rang out.

  I sighed.

  “Teagan,” prompted Kate.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I serve the goddess of the sky and clouds, of the storm and rain.”

  The smoke enveloped us in a sweet-smelling haze. My aunts’ voices joined together, swirling around me as well. “Mother Innarra, Serpent of the Sky, we offer your servant Teagan into your protection. Coil her in your body, keep her safe from the schemes of the Evil Ones. Purify her thoughts, take from her temptation, wipe from her mind the sensation of evil.”

  My aunts drew back.

  My toast popped up from the toaster. “Thanks,” I said. “I feel very pure. Very protected.”

  “This is not a joke,” said Aunt Kate. “You haven’t experienced the Evil Ones firsthand—”

  “And thank the goddess for that,” said Libby.

  “But they are very real, and they seek to harm you,” said Kate.

  I went to get my toast out of the toaster. “I’ll be careful.”

  “You mustn’t allow them to steal your light,” said Sarah. “Guard yourself, Teagan.”

  I smeared jelly onto my toast. “I’ll smudge myself with sage daily.”

  Aunt Kate covered her mouth with one hand. “We really don’t think it’s a good idea to leave this house. This building protects us, you know.”

  “And you know what happened to your mother when she went to that college,” said Libby.

  I swallowed a bite of toast. “Mom’s sick. She’s mentally ill. She got worse away from home, but the Evil Ones did not muddle her brain.” I glared at them. “I wish you guys could join the rest of us in the real world.”

  They folded their arms over their chests.

  * * *

  My mother stayed in one wing of the house. She wouldn’t leave because she wasn’t convinced anywhere else was safe. We couldn’t even get her out to visit a therapist or anything. In all honesty, she’d probably get better care in a facility somewhere, but we couldn’t afford that. And my aunts were convinced that our house offered a protective bubble against the Evil Ones, whoever they were.

  It was very unfortunate that my mother seemed to have taken my aunts’ weird New Age religion and incorporated it into her delusions.

  Right then, I was standing in the doorway to my mother’s bedroom. She hadn’t seen me yet. She was crouching on the floor wearing the white nightgown she refused to take off. We kept her hair short because it was easier to take care of it, so she resembled a little boy. She was clutching a crayon, and she was writing something on the floor.

  The entire room was covered in her scratching. She liked to draw pictures of snakes and write, “Don’t scream, Angela” all over everything. Angela was her name. My aunts used to try to keep writing implements away from her, and they used to paint over the walls, making everything fresh.

  But Mom always found pens or markers or pencils. Eventually, they gave up and let her have the crayons.

  My aunts claim that my mother was not sick before she left for Thornfield College, the same college I’d won a scholarship to, when she was eighteen years old. They claim she was a normal, bright, happy girl. And that she came home two years later at the Christmas holiday broken and raving, three months pregnant with me.

  She’d never explained how she got pregnant, so, of course, I had no idea who my father was. And she’d never recovered.

  My aunts insisted that something happened to her at college that destroyed her. I’d spoken to a doctor though, and he assured me that it wasn’t the case. He said that the stress of being away from home must have pushed my mother too far. She was always schizophrenic, he said, it simply hadn’t shown itself yet.

  She turned in the direction of the doorway, and she saw me. “Teagan?”

  I walked across the room and sat down on the floor next to her. “Hi, Mom.”

  She cocked her head at me. “They’ve been here today already.”

  “Who has?”

  “The snakes,” she said. “They come in through the walls.” She pointed to her pictures of snakes, decorating the area above her bed.

  “But they’re gone now,” I said.

  She nodded. “I guess so. Or maybe we just can’t see them anymore. Do you see them?”

  It was best not to answer questions like that. It made her mad when I told her I couldn’t see her hallucinations. But if I pretended, she wouldn’t believe me and would ask pointed questions about their appearance until she caught me in a lie. So I simply gave her a hug. “I came up to say goodbye, Mom. I’m leaving for college as soon as the car they’re sending shows up.”

  “Leaving.” She handed me her crayon. “You should be careful, Teagan.”

  “I will, Mom.”

  She leaned forward like she was telling me a secret. “What’s yours is always more powerful if it is given than if it is stolen.”

  Was that supposed to mean something? I handed her back the crayon. “I’ll miss you.”

  She shrugged. She turned back to the floor, where she was coloring in the “A” in Angela.

  “Bye, Mom.” I kissed her on top of her head and stood up. I started out of the room.

  “Oh, Teagan,” she called after me.

  I stopped. “Yeah?”

  “They give out free birth control at the health center on campus,” she said. “Take advantage.”

  I choked. My mother had never said anything like that to me before. It was a surprisingly lucid thing for her to say. And really embarrassing. “Actually, I’ve been on birth control for years, mom.”

  She smiled at me brightly. “Really? Well, then have fun.”

  I cringed.

  * * *

  “This wing is for upperclassmen,” said the girl at the door. She had long red curls, and she was glaring at me.

  I’d just climbed up three flights of stairs in an old, dark building with very few windows. The walls were stone, and the air smelled just a touch musty. Now I was standing on the landing and there were three oak doors. The girl was standing in front of one of them. The door to the wing where I was trying to go.

  I fumbled to look at the slip of paper I’d been given with my dormitory assignment. “It says I’m on the third floor of Slayton Hall.”

  “Well, there’s some kind of mix-up then.”

  I peered at the girl. “I remember you. You were at the monologue contest. I remember seeing you while we were all waiting outside for our turn to audition.”

  “Yeah, I was there. I’ve been there for three years in a row. I thought that this year, I was going to get the scholarship. Do you have any idea how unlikely it is for them to award it to someone who isn’t even in the program yet?”

  Oh. She was angry. I’d beaten her out of the scholarship. “I guess you know who I am.”

  She folded her arms over her chest.

  “What’s your name?” I said.

  “Reba Keir,” she said. “And the last I checked, you were a freshman, and you didn’t belong in the upperclassmen wing.”

  I showed her my assignment paper. “It says I’m living here.”

  She huffed.

  “Look, I’m sorry you didn’t get the scholarship, and that I did,” I said. “I know how you feel. I’ve been auditioning for things since high school, and when you don’t get things that you want, it’s disappointing.”

  “Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t try to say that we have things in common. We don’t.” She p
ointed at me. “You don’t belong here.”

  The door opened behind her. “Who are you yelling at, Reba?” said a girl with blonde hair and a cute pug nose.

  “Um,” I said, “I think I’m supposed to be on this wing?”

  “Are you Teagan?” said the girl.

  “Yeah.” She knew who I was. Did everyone know who I was?

  She grinned. “I’m Nell. Nell Sutton. I’m your roommate.”

  Reba put her hands on her hips. “She’s a freshman, Nell. She can’t live here.”

  “She’s an older freshman,” said Nell. She reached out a hand. “Can I take one of your suitcases?”

  Reba moved between us. “So what? She’s still a freshman.”

  “She’s our age. They thought she’d be more comfortable here.” Nell grabbed my suitcase and yanked it back so that it hit Reba’s legs.

  Reba leaped out of the way.

  I squeezed by her. “It was, um, nice to meet you.”

  Nell led me down a hallway. There were identical doors lining it. Each one was thick and heavy, made from dark wood. There was only one window, and it cast a gloomy light over the darkened hallway. “Don’t listen to Reba,” she threw over her shoulder. “She’s a diva in training.”

  There were paintings hanging on the walls. One was a landscape, with a crumbling castle against the setting sun. Another was a picture of a bunch of men on horseback, hunting a wild boar. Dogs were leaping at the animal, frozen in midair. I wrinkled my nose.

  “You looking at the paintings?” said Nell. “Yeah, they’re weird, right? But they were all painted by Thornfield alumni, so we’re stuck with them.”

  I nodded. “Oh, right. Because a lot of successful artists and performers come from this school.” It was one of the reasons why I’d been so pleased to get a full scholarship here. It seemed like Thornfield was the place to go if you wanted to find success in the art world. While actors from Thornfield rarely made it to Hollywood, I’d heard that nearly fifty percent of the actors on Broadway had graduated from Thornfield. Authors, publishers, and gallery owners often had ties to Thornfield as well. I was very fortunate.

  She grinned. “Yep. It’s really a great place for networking. Last spring, Thomas Ricter was a guest director, and, of course, Carter Alexander started teaching here last year.”