Earth, Sun, and Moon Saga Ch. 07

Dakota here with the long awaited chapter 7. If you're a new reader, I recommend that you start with chapter 1, as this is an ongoing series with only a few references to past events. But hey, who am I to tell you what to read first? You do you.

Returning reader? Welcome back! This chapter is a bit lighter fare than the insanity of the previous chapters. Not to give anything away but it's got humor, heavy metal, and a bit of light BDSM. Enjoy!

James didn't have to wait long before Lenore reappeared from whatever lair she kept within the house. Before she was wearing sweats and a band shit, having just woken up. Now she was dressed for a night out; skintight jeans, knee-high boots, and a black motorcycle jacket that was more punk-rock than biker chic.

She was wearing makeup too; dark mascara around her eyes but also blush that brought color to her otherwise pale face. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected that might have been for his sake.

"Let's go," she announced flatly, strutting past him.

He picked up his bag and followed.

The boathouse was only a short walk from the main house and James followed the vampire down the narrow path. From the outside, it was small, even charming, but like many things about this island and its inhabitants, there was more under the surface. Lenore opened the door revealing the squat boathouse actually extended into the island itself, dug into the sloping embankment, and was much bigger inside than it looked from outside.

It housed a fairly unassuming fifty-foot yacht.

"Hm."

"What?" Lenore asked.

He laughed. "Nothing. It's silly." It really was. "Cool boat though."

"Tell me," Lenore ordered, her expression serious.

"Don't worry about it."

"Tell me," she repeated, her voice demanding.

He met her gaze with his own. She was scowling at him as if he'd just gravely insulted her but he did not take kindly to being ordered around. "Make me."

"Oh, I can make you," Lenore sneered at him.

"You can try. Or you could just say please."

Lenore narrowed her eyes. "I have torn men to pieces for less insolence."

He sighed. He'd thought that maybe her disposition toward him would have warmed after their tryst last night. Clearly, he was mistaken.

"Yeah. I'm sure you have. And you can kill me if you want. Or, you can choose to be fucking civilized and treat me with some decency."

Then she was in front of him, eyes black, and fangs extended in an intimidating power play.

"Do you think I won't kill you?"

He gazed into her black eyes. It was like looking into an abyss. In more than a few ways, this was a lot like the night before.

"What about me pisses you off so much?"

"You're a human. Need I say more?"

"No, that's not it. I don't imagine you're bothered much by humans." Then he realized the connection. "I remind you of Edward, don't I?"

Her eyes flickered, those black pupils shrinking just enough to reveal the green irises. "Of course not," she spat.

"That's it," he said, the realization becoming sharper and more obvious. "When Gwen told me the story of the first time you faced off against Anubis, she emphasized certain things about Edward. About how at first you two didn't get along. About coming to you for advice—"

"Stop talking," Lenore said, now less angry and more, what, pleading? "Please."

"Alright." James put his hands up in a truce.

"You're not like him," she said, turning away from him. "He was inexperienced. Naive. Not like you. It's clear there's more to you than you admit, James the student."

It was clear she wanted to say more but busied herself with prepping the yacht. As it was not his boat, James didn't presume to help.

"So . . . please," Lenore said, clearly trying to be conversational. "What was that about?"

"It was just that I was half-expecting we'd fly or teleport or something. I wasn't expecting an actual boat."

Lenore scoffed. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Hey, I told you it was silly. You insisted."

Lenore nodded. "This is our main transportation to and from the island. Either Gwen or I make a supply run about once a month depending on what we need."

"I thought you could fly."

"I can. But it's hard to go shopping and carry bags home when I'm in the form of bats, let alone a dude."

The image of a swarm of bats carrying grocery bags and Amazon boxes caused James to grin widely.

"How does that work, by the way? Like, if a single bat gets separated or gets taken out by a hawk, when you reform, will you be missing a hand or something?"

"It would be no easier to divide me in that form than in this. It only looks like a bunch of individual bats but, really, they're all me."

"Neat."

"How did you get to our island anyway?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual but obviously probing for information.

While he'd told Gwen his visit was meant to be a one-way trip, he was still guarded around the vampire, more so after her outburst. She was a predator to her core and despite the night before, he was still very much on guard.

"Friend gave me a ride. Dropped me off." That was true enough. Although James didn't really count the charter company he'd used as a friend.

Lenore narrowed her eyes at him. "When was this 'friend' supposed to get you?"

"It was open-ended. I was supposed to contact them when I was done."

"When you were done with your science?"

"That's right."

It wasn't a lie. He had, in fact, collected soil samples. He just hadn't planned on returning.

He felt her stealing glances at him as she piloted the boat but tried not to notice. She was a good skipper, piloting the big yacht with skill. After last night, he wasn't sure where he stood with her. He was pretty sure she wasn't planning on killing him, but he didn't pretend to understand the motivations of her kind. Maybe last night meant nothing and she didn't care at all. Maybe it did and this was her version of romantic banter.

The Puget Sound was an enormous waterway and, despite it being one of the most heavily trafficked waterways in the world, was surprisingly empty of other boats and ships. There were several tankers and container ships in the distance and a few smaller pleasure craft near the shore but the sun was setting quickly and most of those were heading toward their marinas.

Lenore steered the yacht silently and James sat with her in the pilot house in quiet contemplation, enjoying the cool sea air. The yacht was luxurious without being ostentatious and was far removed from the boat ride he'd taken out to Sun Stone Island a few days prior. It was hard to wrap his head around all that had happened since. He thought that saying he'd gained a reason for living was a cliche copout but he was certain that he'd crossed a threshold between his old life and the one he'd lead from then on.

Whatever happened, he was changed.

An hour later they pulled into a slip of a marina. Lenore tied off the boat and wordlessly jumped off, seemingly not caring if James followed.

He grabbed his backpack and followed her down the dock, aware she was likely playing another game with him.

"You walk slow, James the student."

"And you're in a mighty rush to get to a museum that's closed."

"Getting in after hours is not an issue."

"Yes. It is."

She stopped and faced him. He thought she might try to intimidate him again, but she just stared. "Explain."

"First rule of any recon mission is not to be detected by your subject. Sure, we could show up at this late hour, break in, and look around, but if Anubis is there it'll be easy for him to find us too. We'd be on his turf after all."

"So you suggest going during the day?" She said the last word with clear contempt.

"Yes. More people, easier to blend in, and figure out the lay of the land. And he doesn't know about me."

Lenore considered this. "I'm still going with you."

"Will going out during the day affect you?"

"I'll manage."

In the parking lot, they arrived at a rather inconspicuous Toyota Tacoma. It was the perfect truck for someone wanting to keep a low profile.

"So, where to, then?" Lenore asked.

James held out his hand for the keys.

Lenore looked at his hand and relented, giving them over.

"I think you could use a night out."

***

Stupid girl, Lenore thought.

Here she was, letting a man she'd just met drive her around town like she was some pick-me Tinder date. He casually tapped on the wheel to the beat of the rock station as he drove, completely comfortable with the lack of conversation.

The night before had been a mistake.

She'd been so spun up from her hunt and then her encounter with Anubis that she'd practically thrown herself at this strange man. She was intrigued that he didn't seem particularly afraid of her. She watched grown men, with all the conviction their religion could provide, piss themselves when she came at them.

James made jokes.

And he managed to do something no man had done in hundreds of years: he got the upper hand on her.             

She'd been foolish and impetuous, too comfortable in her years of being the apex predator wherever she went. When she visited him the night before, she had intended to scare him into telling her who he was; she didn't buy his story of coming to their island for a moment. But when he managed to put that stake between them, pushing it against her breast with fierce defiance burning in his eyes . . . it made her so fucking wet she almost came right then.

She'd never been in real danger from him, of course. But the risk of it was there and it woke something terrible in her.

Despite her better judgment, she found herself attracted to him in a way she hadn't been attracted to anyone in, well, a very long time.

But she still didn't trust him. It wasn't that she was scared of him—she could snap his neck in an instant if it came to it—but his entrance into their lives was just too convenient.

She needed to find out who he was.

He parked and got out, opening her door in a call back to an earlier time.

"Where are we?" she asked, realizing she hadn't been paying attention to where they were.

"This is a shot in the dark," he said. "But do you like heavy metal?"

Oh fuck, she thought. How did he know? "It's alright."

A couple blocks away and Lenore's eyes went wide when she realized where he was leading her.

The Sunset Tavern was far enough removed from the unrest downtown as to seemingly be in a whole different city. It was a charming and kitschy music venue in the trendy Ballard neighborhood.

"What?" he asked, picking up on her apprehension. "Everything okay?"

"You know this place?"

"Sure. Do you?"

Lenore nodded.

"I noticed the band shirts and the jacket. Figured you might like live music."

"I . . . do."

Damn it, that felt like a wedding vow. Get a grip, she told herself. James smiled, clearly proud he'd guessed right.

James paid the twelve-dollar cover for each of them and led her inside as if she hadn't been here about a million times before. Although, admittedly, it had been a while.

The vibe was different and they'd remodeled, but it was mostly how she remembered.

It was a small, intimate venue, with a vaguely Asian aesthetic; paper lanterns hanging around the bar and white Christmas lights strung through the ceiling. It was only moderately busy tonight; there were even a few empty booths.

A quartet of teenagers played their set on the small stage. The guitarist thrashed around, miraculously not knocking over any of the amps. They were heavy and raw, trying to channel early Misfits or Minor Threat. They seemed to have fans, as a mosh pit had opened up in the small audience. Lenore thought they were talented but uncoordinated, more a group of individual musicians playing their parts than a true band playing with one soul.

"Can you drink?" James asked over the music. "You know, beer?"

Lenore nodded and James soon returned with two tall cans.

She slipped her hand into her jacket and pulled out a vial of blood, making sure he noticed. She poured it into her beer and gave it a swirl.

"I can't eat food," she explained. "But I can drink most beverages if I add blood."

"That must . . . suck."

"Ha ha."

"No, really. That sounds terrible. You can't eat pizza. Or french fries."

Lenore shrugged. "Do you regret not being able to eat cardboard?"

"Fair enough. Does alcohol affect you?"

"No, but I like the taste." She took a sip for emphasis. "Also, it helps me fit in."

They watched the punk band tear through their last song. The crowd was made up of an enthusiastic core of moshers surrounded by people standing and watching. The band's emaciated singer howled a chorus about people that don't return grocery carts while the rest of the band went apeshit like they were playing for a stadium of fifty thousand instead of fifty.

Their set ended with a thanks and a request to check them out on Spotify and SoundCloud.

"On your six," James whispered.

Lenore turned to see a bespectacled old lady in a spiked black vest make right for her. She smiled broadly when Lenore saw her.

Oh no, she thought.

"I can't believe it," the woman said, clearly resisting hugging her. "You look just like her."

It was Geraldine Young, the Godmother of Grunge herself.

Damn it.

"Hello, do we know each other?" Lenore ask.

"Well, I'd bet dollars to dicks I know your mom. You have got to be Liz Luna's kid."

"Oh, yeah. That's my mom," Lenore said, feigning mild embarrassment. "Who are you?"

"Geraldine, but people around here called me Gerry. I used to hang out with your mom in my younger days."

James cocked an eyebrow at her. "Liz Luna?"

"Stage name, obviously," Geraldine explained. "Her mother was a goddamn rockstar if there ever was one."

She leaned close, studying Lenore's face. "Gosh, it's like looking at a ghost. You certainly got her beauty. It's eerie."

James looked at Lenore, clearly putting it together. "You never told me your mom was in a band. What were they called?"

"She didn't like to talk about it," Lenore said, hoping he'd get the message.

"Blood Magic," Geraldine offered, helpfully. "She could have gone all the way. Shame what happened. Although, I'm glad she went off to have a life after the band."

"Blood Magic?" James repeated, glancing at Lenore. He was not getting the message. "What happened? To her mom?"

Geraldine turned to Lenore. "Did she not tell you?"

Lenore gave a half-hearted smile. She had to admit she was a little curious herself. "Mom was rather tight-lipped about that time in her life."

"She was interesting, that's for sure," Geraldine agreed. "Blood Magic gained a decent following in the scene here and I had helped set up the meeting between her band and Sub Pop—that's the label that originally signed Nirvana and Soundgarden—that got them signed. Wham bam, three months later they made a kickass first album and were gearing up for a nationwide tour. But your mom canceled it. Pissed off the label royally who dropped them before the year was out. But before that happened they did one final show. Her bandmates were pissed, but a helluva show it was. Played right there on that stage to a sold-out crowd. Your mom was absolute fire, honey. You got to remember, this was years before Evanescence or Lacuna Coil or any of those other female-fronted goth metal bands. They had a real unique sound. But it was the finale that blew everyone away.

"See, Liz was a natural performer and she was political as fuck. A real goddamn activist, unlike the keyboard warriors you see today. Before the last song, she asked if anyone would volunteer to give her a drink. One guy raised his hand and brought her up a beer. She knocked the beer out of his hand and grabbed the guy's arm and, get this, bit him. Drank his fucking blood right there on the stage. You have to remember, this was the early 90s, and everyone was freaked out by AIDS. I mean, people were afraid to hug someone infected and there your mom was drinking blood on stage. We were all fucking floored, as was this guy. When she pulled back, blood was running from her chin and she pulled him close and kissed him. Everyone just went nuts. It was so fucking loud in here with the cheering. It was the most metal fucking thing I've ever seen."

"That sounds crazy," James said, looking at Lenore. "To drink someone's blood on stage. In public. Absolutely. Crazy."

"Yeah," Lenore said, forcing a chuckle. "Mom was always a bit out there."

"So what happened?" James asked. "Did the dude die?"

"Oh, shit no," Geraldine said. "Although he drank for free the rest of the night. Her mom, however, disappeared after. Blood Magic broke up. Hell, even her bandmates didn't know where she went."

"That's unfortunate," James said. He turned to Lenore again. "Say, did your mom ever give a reason for giving up the band?"

Lenore glared at James. Him and his smug face. "All she told me was that she didn't want fame to intrude on her life. She loved the music and didn't want to, um, sell out."

"Sell out?" James cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah."

"Is she still alive, your mom?" Geraldine asked. "I mean, hell, she's a certified legend in this place. People still talk about going to that show. I'd love to buy her a beer and catch up."

"Unfortunately, no. Mom died a few years back. Cancer. Leukemia."

"Blood cancer?" Geraldine put a hand to her mouth in shock. "You're kidding."

"I'm afraid not."

It took Geraldine a moment to wrap her head around the irony of it all before she whispered, "Fucking legend."

Geraldine Young, a woman who once punched Kurt Cobain in the ear after he mouthed off to her (or so the story went), wandered off, clearly stunned, after asking Lenore to come back "anytime."

"I think you broke her," James said.

"She'll be fine. She'll probably outlast me."

"So . . . what's next, Liz Luna? If I take you to a bookstore down the road, will it turn out you were an infamous local author too? Once bit a fan at a book signing?"

Lenore scoffed. "Depends which bookstore."

James sipped his beer.

"Just kidding," Lenore said.

"Blood Magic, eh? A bit on the nose, don't you think?"

"That was the point," she said with a huff. "You don't understand how wild this last century was for us. Or for you. We watched humans try to exterminate yourselves between two world wars and only stop once you developed the technology to really do it. Then you got all those fucking ideologies you fought over. It was the fucking Protestants and Catholics all over again. But the music . . . I've always loved music. But it was a real rarity in my time. Mostly liturgical religious stuff and I'm not exactly welcome in churches. But this country, first with jazz and then with rock-and-roll, finally got it right. The irony of it was that with everyone letting out their true selves, I could finally hide in plain sight."

"So, you formed a goth-metal band and started playing shows. But panicked when it appeared you might break out."

"I don't panic."

"Yeah. Sure. Drinking blood on stage is absolutely something a non-panicking vampire would do."

Lenore was going to respond to his flippant comment but the next band started playing. In contrast to the group of kids thrashing around, this was a dad rock band playing a hardcore set. They were synched and had a polished sound. The singer screamed like he was still nineteen although he had to be pushing forty.

But Lenore never got tired of watching live music.

"This reminds me of growing up," James said. "At the Drive-in, The Used, Poison the Well."

"Hardcore kid, eh?"

"Not exclusively but yeah, you could say that."

They watched together for the first couple of songs. The crowd had grown larger by now and the mosh pit had grown larger too. About a dozen dedicated listeners were jumping in and out of it, running around and pushing each other in a chaotic frenzy. James finished his beer and tossed the can in a nearby trash can.