Moonset - Scott Tracey

“Not that it does any good,” Luca pointed out. “They can’t figure out what he’s doing.”

“What happened last night?” Mal asked, grabbing an apple out of the bowl.

Kevin shrugged, looking to me.

I sighed. “The guy we saw in the diner? The crazy one? He killed himself last night. They think the warlock might have had something to do with it.” There hadn’t been any time to talk to Mal and catch him up with what had happened since yesterday. Suddenly, the tension in his shoulders wasn’t just about his cousin being in my house.

It was hard enough trying to keep everything straight, but harder still to remember what I’d told him or what I’d told Jenna. I’d become too good at holding things back, and every tiny oversight was a huge drama.

“Don’t worry,” Cole said, correctly interpreting the sudden shift in tension, “Justin doesn’t tell me anything, either. He doesn’t tell anyone.”

“Cole,” Mal said, his voice a warning.

“What? It’s true. Everyone lies to us lately.”

“That’s enough!” Mal snapped.

“How long are you out for?” Kevin asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something less personal.

“A few days.” I grabbed one of the apples, too, but instead of devouring it the way Mal was, I tossed it nervously back and forth between my hands. Just to give them something to do. Cole huffed and hopped down off the counter. He crossed the room and headed into the hallway, Luca following after a few moments later.

“He’s not a bad kid.” Kevin watched me as I watched them. “Luca’s got a rough deal. His dad never could cope with what his brother did. I don’t think he ever intended to have kids, either.

Luca was an accident.”

So it wasn’t any easier being from the “good” half of the Denton line. Malcolm was watching them, too, but I wondered if he watched for Cole, or for Luca.

“So if you guys are still around in the fall, you should try out for football,” Kevin said to Mal.

That started a whole conversation about school sports and college teams, and my head couldn’t take it anymore. There was aspirin in the cupboard by the microwave, and I shook a couple into my hand and dry swallowed them as Kevin’s sports talk got a more energetic tone out of Malcolm than I’d heard in days.

“Who’s having the best day ever?” Jenna announced when she swept in a moment later.

“Really, though, Justin. A murder threat?” She laughed, and added in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s much better if they don’t see it coming.”

I sunk down onto the kitchen table. Gloating Jenna wasn’t helping the pounding in my head.

“Get it all out now,” I said, dropping my head onto the table’s surface. Cold, I thought in relief, the wood like a balm against my head.

“What are the Odd Couple doing here?”

I shrugged, but since my head was currently resting against the table, I imagined the effect was wasted. “Don’t know.”

“So you threaten unholy murder and carnage, and that gets you a visit from the welcome wagon?” Jenna rapped her fingers against the table, knowing full well it would aggravate me. It did. “Maddy really must not be in the running for Miss Congeniality.”

“The teacher went psycho and used magic on me.”

“I heard,” she snorted. “It’s not turning out the way she expected, I’m sure. His grandfather is another big deal. They probably should have warned us that this place was preppy central.

Everyone’s got a relative who was some sort of mystical war hero or Moonset veteran.”

Which was something else to worry about. Why now? Why put us in a room with people who had every right to hate us? Moonset had targeted the magical elite, the witches with the most knowledge and political power. “Wait, what do you mean it’s not turning out the way she expected?”

Jenna looked surprise. “Baby brother’s the victim, haven’t you heard?” Her smirk widened into something that would have been a smile on anyone else. Jenna’s smiles were few and far between. “She wanted to make you look unstable, and instead, she made you look sympathetic. People are talking about how poor little Justin was taken advantage by someone he was supposed to trust.”

“They’re saying that?”

She nodded in the direction of Kevin and Mal. “That’s what he told his grandfather, at least.

Even Maddy mentioned that it wasn’t entirely your fault. But then, she’s also claiming that you forfeited the debate, so there you go.”

Maybe things were looking up. If we weren’t the scapegoats that everyone always tried to make us out to be. Even Jenna seemed halfway composed today—and we’d already made it through the first few days of school without her setting something on fire or staging a mutiny.

Luca slunk back into the kitchen, one hand stuffed inside his jacket.

“Where’s Cole?” I asked, lifting my head at his approach.

He shrugged, turning until he was facing Kevin. “We should go. I have to be home before my dad comes back,” he said softly. “He won’t be happy if he knows I was here.”

“I told you,” Kevin said, sounding like he’d repeated this several times already, “no one’s going to find out, okay? Besides, it’s not that big of a deal. If he finds out, just tell him we were forced to come by the school.”

Luca shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Whatever,” he sighed. “Can we go now?

“We’re going,” Kevin said, annoyed now. What was Luca’s problem, anyway? He’d been fine when he left the room with Cole.

Cole, I sighed. “He didn’t say anything to piss you off, did he? Cole doesn’t always think before he talks. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m still here!” a voice shouts from the other room, his irritation audible.

Jenna sighed, standing from the table. “I’ll deal with him. But you should probably get them out of here anyway.” She strode from the room, and I could hear muted voices from the front of the house. Then the front door opened and slammed shut. Cole storming out. An audible huff.

Then the door opened and closed again. Jenna went after him. At least there was that. If anyone could wrangle Cole, it was Jenna. It was just that Jenna usually was wrangling him for nefarious purposes like school riots. Cole’s exuberance only braked for mischief.

“Yeah, we’re going,” Kevin said, grinning. “Think about what I said about the team, man,” he added to Malcolm.

Mal shrugged easily. “We probably won’t be here in the fall, and I’m not much for team sports anyway.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded. “Easier to pick up and move when no one else is relying on you.”

“Something like that,” Mal deferred.

“Look, I get that it can’t be easy for you guys. Being here,” Kevin said as the four of us approached the door, Mal and me in the rear. “Especially for you guys. With both of your dads being here and everything. But maybe it’s the smart choice. Where better to start over than where it all started in the first place?”

Luca looked startled, maybe at the reminder that he, too, was related to a terrorist. But I was caught up in thinking about our fathers: Mal’s and mine. Sherrod and Cyrus had reportedly been the best of friends all their lives. We knew they’d grown up here. But no one had really talked to us about them before.

Well, one person had. The old man at the curio shop. He’d taken one look at me and recognized my father. Maybe there was more of an opportunity here than I’d thought. But

Kevin’s suggestion also brought up another thought. Why would the warlock want us here, exactly? Why Carrow Mill? Because that was where Moonset had started?

A chill settled in as I wondered. Was he hoping that lightning would strike twice?

Twenty

“You have to understand. One day, everything was fine. People were recovering and we were trying to heal. The next, we were at war.

(Moonset) had mobilized a cult under everyone’s noses. They struck at every faction of power that remained, and eliminated anyone that could have challenged them.”

Adele Roman

Moonset Historian: From a college lecture series about Moonset

The next morning, the first of my suspension, started with a lot of rampaging downstairs. I think

Jenna wore her loudest heels just so the sound they made against the hardwood floors would pierce through any attempts I made at sleeping in.

By the time I finally made my way downstairs, the house was empty except for Quinn. He glared at the coffee maker like it was about to come to life and begin the cyborg apocalypse. “I have to head downtown to take care of some errands. And get some coffee,” he added under his breath.

“Coffee sounds good,” I said, suddenly perking up at even the mention of caffeine.

“Pretty sure the common punishment for getting suspended is grounded. I mean, it’s been awhile, and I of course was a model teenager.”

“Of course you were,” I muttered.

“But if I take you out for coffee, that’s almost like a reward.”

“I’m just asking to tag along when you go downtown. All I want is some coffee. Supervised coffee, even! It’s like a field trip!” I said, suddenly inspired. “Schools have field trips all the time!”

“Fine,” he said after a long pause. He threw on a leather jacket and grabbed his keys. “Get your coat.”

I looked towards the ceiling and thanked the invisible heavens. Getting out of the house, even if it was only for a few minutes, was like some sort of reprieve. I grabbed my jacket and met him at the car, shivering in the January air. New York was cold. Every time I thought I understood just how cold, the weather made a point of showing me something colder. Once we got in the car, Quinn turned on the radio, clicking through the presets until he found a classic rock station.

The ride through town was short. He took the most direct way to the coffee shop—the same route I’d walked only a couple of days ago when I’d met up with Ash. Other than a brief encounter in the hallway yesterday, I hadn’t talked to her since that night. I wondered what the story going around school was. Was I the emotionally disturbed jackass who’d picked a fight?

Had anyone heard me making threats? The witches all knew what had really happened, but what about the regular kids? I was nervous about what they were saying. The fact that I was nervous even caught me by surprise. When was the last time I’d cared what anyone else thought about us?

By the time Quinn found a parking spot on the street, the car was only fractionally warmer.

The only open spot had been equidistant between the coffee and curio shops.

“I’ve got to run to the bank and then drop something off,” Quinn said, cutting the ignition.

“Shouldn’t take me longer than fifteen minutes. Don’t wander off. And holler if anything happens.”

“Like what?”

Quinn stared at me impassively. “Just yell if something happens.”

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