Immortal Moon (2 page)

That was their evidence?
Oh, please
.
Though it was just mid-morning, it was shaping up to be a warm
spring day, but it had been cool when I left home at dawn. Granted,
I did wear the hat to protect my skin, but it was because the
creamy, white skin tone that came with coppery red hair burned
easily, and I hated freckles. But no way was I going to explain any
of that to those boneheads. Instead, I grabbed my hat in one hand,
the cloak in the other and, holding them out to either side of my
body, took several steps backward until I was out of the building
and standing full in the sun. I turned my face up towards the
sky.

Vampires were allergic to the UV rays in
sunlight. It was a side effect of the N-V virus that caused
vampirism. Though I burned easily, a few minutes out in the sun
wouldn’t make a difference, but a vampire’s skin would start
turning pink after several seconds, then red within minutes. The
longer the exposure, the worse the reaction. After an hour of
direct exposure, most vampires would have third degree burns on the
exposed area. A vampire would never step full into the sun, even if
their allergy was relatively mild. Most didn’t go out between
sunrise and sunset at all if they could help it. I’d only met one
vampire who didn’t seem to have a reaction to the sun, but even he
wore a wide hat and cloak if he went out during the day.

After a full minute, I looked back at the
trio still standing next to Pete. He was grinning, and the guys all
had murderous looks on their faces. I smiled sweetly, trying to not
let it be a smirk. “See, not a vamp.”

“Then you are a shifter or a mage, you
bitch,” the sailor growled at me, his eyes blazing.

“Whoa, fella,” Pete drawled. “There will be
no name calling in my house. Just calm down.”

“Don’t tell us to calm down,” the
dark-haired friend spat. “She’s a fraud, and you allowed it. You
hustled us.”

That was not the best thing he could say to
Pete. I almost felt sorry for them.

Pete gave a barely perceptible nod and three
beefy men came to stand behind the sailor and his buddies. “I think
we should go to my office and discuss your allegations,” Pete said,
his tone low and deceptively polite.

I slapped the straw hat on my head, wiggled
my fingers at the scared-looking trio, and hightailed it out of
there. I didn’t want to see what happened if the three guys put up
a fuss.

Once I was around the corner and out of
sight, I started running. Pete would keep the three occupied for a
while, but I didn’t want to be nearby when they left the fight
house. They wouldn’t be in a good mood.

I jogged away from the docks, weaving
through the narrow alleys between warehouses and fish stands,
towards my ultimate destination. I was on my way to the Public
Market this morning when I got sidetracked at Pete’s, as I so often
did.

I stopped running when I reached the edge of
the lot outside the main market building. On any given day, it
would be easy to blend in with groups of shoppers that browsed the
maze of lean-tos and shacks housing blacksmiths, weavers, and other
craftsmen. But today wasn’t just any day. It was mid-week during
the one week a month that merchants and farmers traveled from all
over Appalachia to Nash City to sell their wares. Families also
traveled from hundreds of miles around to shop during market week.
The lot teemed with shoppers and merchants. I knew it would be just
as crowded inside the huge building that had been a sports stadium
before the Cataclysm. Even if the three sailors did come looking
for me, they would have a heck of a time finding me.

Just in case, though, I rolled up my cloak
and stuck it in my canvas shopping bag. I did the same with the
straw hat. I really did need something to protect my skin from the
bright sun, but I’d made eighty bucks off the match with the
sailor. I could spring for a new hat quite easily. I pulled out the
ribbon holding my hair and ran my fingers through the silky copper
strands falling about my shoulders. The back of my head still
smarted from my hair being pulled.

Satisfied the sailor and his buddies
wouldn’t automatically pick me out in a crowd with my hair down, I
headed into the market building. My first stop was my sister’s
booth.

“Hey, Rivs, what’s shakin’?” I called as I
approached.

River turned from the bin where she was
arranging a pile of tomatoes she’d grown in her rooftop garden,
flashing her brilliant smile at me. The smile quickly faded into a
look of motherly concern. “Anya, where is your hat? You’re going to
freckle!”

I found her admonishment comical,
considering she spent 90% of her time out in the sun tending her
plants or working at her market booth, yet she rarely wore sun
protection of any kind. Her skin was as pale as mine, paler
actually. Paired with her white-blonde hair, it made her look
fragile, almost ethereal. Yet she never burned or freckled.

“Geez, Rivs, don’t nag. It’s in my bag. I
was thinking about buying a new hat today.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “I expected you
earlier. You’ve been over at Pete’s, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing an apple out of a
bin and taking a bite. If it had been anyone else in my family, I
might have thought about lying, or at least giving them a
smart-assed remark, but not River. Despite her eternal
motherliness, she never nagged me about street-fighting. She seemed
to understand it was something I needed to do, even if neither of
us really understood why. When I came home with bruises or cuts,
she just cooed and soothed and gave me potions or poultices to get
better.

“So, I’m guessing one or more of your
opponents didn’t take too well to being beaten by a little
girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I huffed. “I’m
three inches taller than you.”

She grinned. “You’re a little girl to those
beefy blockheads you fight. I’m guessing you are hiding out in the
crowd until they disperse.”

Oh, how well she knew me. “You know I
already planned to come shopping this morning. And with the loot I
made at the fight, I have an excuse to spend a little extra time
looking at pretties.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, laughing.
“Just don’t stay out too long. If you’re tired tonight at work,
Pinky will know you’ve been fighting again, and he’ll be a grumpy
pants for days.”

“No worries, Rivs. I’ll browse around a bit
and get home in time to get plenty of beauty rest before my shift
tonight.” I gave her a light kiss on the forehead. “See you
later.”

She went back to her stall to help the crowd
of customers perusing her herbs and vegetables.

“And don’t forget to buy a new hat!” I heard
her call as I headed down the aisle towards my favorite clothing
stall.

An hour later, I
had two cute and sexy tops, a corset, several yards of fabric for
new skirts, and a new cloth shopping bag to carry them in since my
other bag was full with my cloak and hat. I also had a new wool hat
with a wide floppy brim pulled down on my head so just a bit of my
hair was visible. I had gone a little overboard and only had a
couple of bucks from my winnings left. But, I hadn’t touched the
money I’d brought to shop with, so I figured I’d actually been
quite restrained.

It was nearly noon. After grabbing a fish
taco at a food stall near the bridge, I headed across the river to
the pub where I lived with River and our adoptive father,
Pinky.

Just as I reached the highest part of Foot
Bridge, the only pre-Cataclysm bridge still crossing the Cumberland
River, a gust of wind blew my new hat from my head. The long,
braided-leather cord kept it from flying away. Instead, it flopped
against my back. I didn’t bother trying to put it back on, since I
was well away from the market and heading home. Besides, I was sure
the sailors had given up and gone back to their boat.

About halfway across the bridge, I heard a
shout and the pounding of feet behind me. I turned to look,
wondering if perhaps a traveler had mistakenly brought a horse- or
oxen-driven wagon onto the pedestrian-only bridge. No such luck.
The sailor I’d given a beatdown to earlier at Pete’s and his two
buddies were several yards behind me, but moving in fast. They
pushed other walkers aside as they made their way towards me. Damn,
so they hadn’t gone back to their boat.

A small knot of fear formed in my stomach.
There were three of them and one of me. While I was confident I
could whip any one of them with no problem, I certainly wasn’t vain
or stupid enough to think I could take on all three. I did the only
thing I could do. I ran.

As I raced down the bridge, weaving in and
out of other pedestrians, I went over my options. I was about a
mile from home. I had worked all night, and instead of going to
bed, I’d gone down to the waterfront to fight at Pete’s. My normal
energy was starting to wane. There was no way I would make it all
the way home without them catching me. They were chasing me in
broad daylight across a crowded bridge. I had no doubt they would
attack me in public too. Just getting to a busier street was not
going to work. I glanced over at the wide cart-and-wagon bridge
that paralleled Foot Bridge. It was several feet lower than Foot
Bridge and rickshaws, surreys, riders on horseback, and large
industrial wagons pulled by oxen lumbered across it. I could jump
down, and if I managed not to break an ankle or my neck, or get run
over by a vehicle, I still would only be a few seconds ahead of the
thugs once I exited the bridge. Possibly with even less of a lead,
given the time it would take to jump, recover, and start running
again.

Nearing the end of the bridge, I frantically
searched for another solution. Of course there wasn’t a City Guard
around when I needed one. The buildings of Old Nash loomed ahead of
me. My only option was to get off the open street and into the
Slums as quickly as possible. I knew this area like the back of my
hand, and I was pretty sure the three following me didn’t. I could
lose them by weaving in and out of alleyways and crevices between
the old pre-Cataclysm buildings and the shacks that were built in
every open spot between them. That was back when the world had
raged and burned, and tens of thousands of refugees had crammed
inside the city walls to survive.

The bridge stretched across the river and a
little bit over dry land. I spied the small opening in the railing,
the only announcement of the staircase leading down to the street
below. There was a narrow alley between the building below and the
bridge, so I would have to be fast and not get caught in it. On the
other side of the bridge was one of the derelict buildings that
made up the largest part of the slums. Once a sleek business
building constructed mostly of glass, it was now where some of the
poorest inhabitants of Nash, mostly Norms like me, lived. I
shuddered involuntarily, as I always did, at the thought of living
in that sad, dilapidated place. The glass was long gone and the
bottom windows were covered with boards, tarps, and blankets to
protect the inhabitants from the weather. A few of the upper
floors, occupied by vampires that didn’t mind walking ten or
fifteen flights of stairs, were also covered. Most of the building
had gaping holes where floor-to-ceiling glass walls had once
been.

I had friends living in that building, some
of the regulars at Pete’s and other fight houses around the city.
If I could just get inside, I could lose the sailors in the maze of
make-shift halls and rooms. If you didn’t know how to navigate it,
you could get very lost, and the people that lived there didn’t
take kindly to having strangers tromp through their home. I could
easily find my way through to the doors on the other side of the
building, and no one would think twice about my presence. I
shouldn’t have any problems, but the sailors would be slowed
down.

Only a few blocks from home, going into the
building would take me in the opposite direction, but it seemed to
be my best bet for losing the thugs. My decision made, I veered to
the right, barely missing a woman pushing a baby carriage, and
headed for the stairs. I heard a shout behind me and knew the
sailors had seen me. I jumped down the crumbling steps two at a
time. When I reached the bottom, I veered right again, this time to
pass under the bridge.

I had taken about three steps away from the
stairs, when a large hand clamped down over my mouth.
Simultaneously, an arm snaked around my waist. I was pulled tight
against a hard, muscled body. Terror seized me. I tried to scream,
but only managed a muffled grunt. I clawed at the hands that held
me and kicked my feet furiously, but nothing seemed to work against
my captor.

I felt hot breath against my ear. “Calm
down, Ginger. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Even if I hadn’t recognized the voice that
whispered in my ear, only one person in my life had ever called me
Ginger. I stopped struggling and let myself be pulled into the
shadowed recess under the bridge. Within seconds, I found myself
sandwiched between the hard concrete wall of the alcove under the
bridge and the just as hard body of a six-and-a-half-foot-tall
vampire. I put my hands between us, but he quickly pulled them away
and pressed closer. His long, dark cloak fell around us, so that it
was completely shielding me from view.