Page 44 of Broken Moon

“Shut up, Lennon,” I muttered,and went to take a hot shower—or a cold one, depending—and get some sleep. Iwas a little stiff and sore, but honestly, I lived with pain. I’d grownaccustomed to it, had been warped by it, and barely thought about it exceptwhen it kicked my ass under a full moon. Not even the magic of the exsoloupwould keep me down for long.

When I came out of the bathroom,clean, teeth brushed, hair dried and re-braided, Ash was on my bed, soundasleep.

“So you like me better thanLucy after all, hmmm?” I grinned and climbed into bed with my rescue dog, somepart of my brain relaxing instantly as I felt his warm weight atop the covers.

Comforted, I slept.

ChapterTwenty

Someone was screaming, but Ithought I was having a nightmare until Ash jumped on my stomach and barked inmy face. He jumped off the bed when I shot up, then ran to the doorway and intothe hall, then back into the room, telling me to hurry.

“Lucille,” I yelled, my voicecroaky and dry, then barreled from my room and into hers. I hit the lightswitch and then, for a second, I froze.

She sat straight up in her bed,her eyes open but only the whites visible. She didn’t take a breath, and hervoice didn’t waver. She screamed.

“Fuck,” I yelled, then leapedat her. Between her screams and Ash’s frantic barks, I thought I might lose mymind. I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Lucille! Wake up!”

She did, abruptly. “Oh my,” shesaid, completely normal. “I had a dream.”

“No shit,” I said. “You scaredme half to death.” Ash had climbed up and was attempting to lick some colorback into her face, and she hugged him, all smiles. It was beyond freaky. “Youwere screaming,” I told her.“Loudly.”

She waved a hand. “I shouldhave warned you about that before I moved in. Sometimes what I see—well, Idon’t see it really, Iamit—makes me…” She shuddered, then forced hersmile back. “Makes me scream.”

“What was your dream? What didyou see?”

“I normally push the dreamsfrom my mind,” she said, kissing Ash’s head. “Unless they won’t leave me aloneor aren’t quite so frightening, like with you.”

“Lucy. What did you see?”

She frowned. “I just explainedto you that I ignore them, Kait. They’re too hard on me. I developed a prettygood system where when I wake up, I lock them away and don’t think of themagain.”

“That’s impossible,” I saidflatly. “They’ll explode out of that box someday and kill you. Besides, whatyou have is a gift. Don’t you want to help the people reaching out to you?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t. Ican’t help anyone. I can only see them suffering. Gift?” For a second she wasnot the sweet, lighthearted Lucy I knew. Something ancient and dark peered throughher eyes. “What I have is not a gift. It’s a punishment.”

“Honey,” I said, leaning overto give her a hug. “What happened to you?”

She said nothing, but I couldsee her need to talk, to vent, to have someone as weird as she was listen toher agony. I could relate. “Come on,” I said, when she remained silentlythoughtful. “I’ll make us some coffee and we’ll talk about it.”

She climbed from the bed and Icouldn’t help but snort at her nightclothes. She wore a frilly white gowndecorated with huge butterflies. Their gossamer wings, made from some sort ofnetting and lace, had been sewn on. It was definitely hideous, and definitelyLucy.

“There’s a cake on thecountertop,” she said. “I brought it home from the bakery. We’ll have cake andcoffee.” She stopped in the doorway. “There’s a girl, Kait. Someone has her ina box, and she’s screaming, because he comes in and…” She swallowedconvulsively. “I don’t know where she is. Why do I have these fucking dreamswhen they don’t tell me how to save them? I can’t save them.” She whisperedthat last bit, then shoved her knuckles against her lips until I was afraid shewould hurt herself. “I can’t save anyone.”

I pulled her hand gently fromher face and kept it securely in my grip until we reached the kitchen. By then,she was back to her bubbly self. I could see her shoving away the bad stuff.Forcing it into the box and locking it up—much like the girl in her dream.

Poor kid.

Neither of us spoke again untilwe were sitting at the table with cake and hot coffee—black for her, lots ofcream and sugar for me—and through the little window above the sink, I couldsee dawn sneaking in.

“What happened to you?” sheasked me, perhaps needing me to start with my own traumas before she revealedhers. “I mean, I saw some things, but they made no sense to me. I saw you inthe wilds, running, and a pack of wolves were chasing you. You were screaminginside. And don’t you know, I never did get those screams out of my head. Everytime I’m near you, if I am still and silent, I can hear your pain.”

I was amazed by her. Amazed anda little disturbed. I shivered, then took a quick gulp of too hot coffee. Sheneeded me to tell her something. “When I was fourteen years old,” I saidfinally, “I saw my father die. There were a lot of angry, raging…people afterhim, and he was killed in front of my mother and me.”

Her eyes were wide. “Why, Kait?Why did they kill him?”

“Because he’d been secretlyturning people against our…leader. He was marked as a traitor and killed.” Myvoice was emotionless, almost cold.

She shuddered. “I’m so sorry,Kaitlyn.” Then she nodded, stared into her coffee cup, and told me about herpast. “Something traumatic happened to me when I was fourteen, as well.” Shethrew me a quick smile. “Another thing we have in common.”