Page 26 of Luna

Fuck.

She looks like Sarah.

If I didn’t know my wife was dead, I’d think I was watching her. Living, breathing, moving.

I peer at the screen, moving closer.

She has Sarah’s eyes, her curls, her curves. She moves differently though. As I watch, I understand that. The way her hips sway, the shape of her ass, the clothes she’s wearing.

She is not Sarah.

But she could be.

Thornfield is staring at me. “What’s wrong with you? You look pale?”

I shake my head and point at the screen. “You have access to the security cameras where she works?”

“Clearly,” Thornfield replies dryly.

“Okay, so what am I looking at?”

“Just watch.”

He points again at the screen.

Luna — that’s her name, I remind myself — is opening a package. Her movements are careful, almost reverent. As she lifts out a wooden box, I notice something odd. The shadows in the bookshop seem to shift, moving in ways that don’t align with the light sources I can see.

My skin prickles. This is more than just poor video quality or tricks of the light.

Luna opens the box, and I brace myself because it is clear that whatever is inside is significant. She dips in her hand then pulls it out again. This time, it’s covered in blood.

“What’s in the box, Lucien?”

Thornfield arches a thick dark eyebrow at me. “Remember Steven?”

“The boyfriend…” I trail off. “He’s…?”

“Parts of him.” Thornfield’s lip twitches into a satisfied smile.

Sick mother fucker. He mailed her the ex-boyfriend’s body parts?

“Keep watching.” Thornfield taps the screen.

Luna is staring into the box. But instead of recoiling in horror, she seems fascinated. Empowered, even. And around her, the shadows in the room grow darker, swirling, moving.

“Is she…?”

I watch as Luna examines the contents of the box. Her hands should be shaking - anyone’s would be — but they’re steady. Strong. There’s a moment where she laughs, and the sound seems to make the very air around her vibrate.

The shadows are still moving. They pulse and writhe, responding to her emotions. It’s subtle, but unmistakable to someone who’s seen as much supernatural shit as I have.

“She’s controlling them,” I mutter, more to myself than to Thornfield. “The shadows. She’s not even aware she’s doing it, is she?”

Thornfield doesn’t answer, but his silence is confirmation enough.

He stops the clip and I step back from the screen, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, so she’s got some kind of power. Shadow magick? But she’s human?”

I turn to face Thornfield, my mind racing. This woman, whoever she is, is clearly more than just some human Thornfield’s obsessed with. She’s powerful, potentially dangerous, and completely unaware of what she can do.