Sarah Allen - The Girl Who Chased the Moon

“I spend a lot of time in this loft when I’m here,” he said as she looked around. The only light was from the windows on the far wall, stacked in the shape of a triangle that followed the line of the sloping ceiling. Pink dust motes sparkled in the air.

“I can see why. It has a secret feel to it. It suits you.” She walked to the bank of windows. “Great view.”

He watched her from across the room, backlit against the windows. He was moving before he was even aware of what he was doing. He stopped directly behind her, mere inches away. Awareness immediately radiated from her like electricity.

A full minute passed before he said, “You’re suddenly quiet.”

He watched her swallow. “I don’t understand how you do this to me.”

He leaned in slightly. Her hair smelled like something flowery, like the fading scent of lilacs. “Do what?”

“Your touch.”

“I’m not touching you, Emily.”

She turned around. “That’s just it. It feels like you are. How do you do that? It’s like you have something surrounding you, something I can’t see, that reaches out. It doesn’t make sense.”

That startled him. She felt it. No one had ever felt it before.

She waited for him to say something, to explain or deny it, neither of which he could do. He took a step past her, closer to the window. “Your family once owned all of this,” he said.

She hesitated before deciding to accept the change of subject. “All of what?”

“All of Piney Woods Lake. Years ago, that’s how the Shelbys made their money, by selling it off, parcel by parcel.” He pointed to the trees in the distance. “All that wooded acreage on the other side of the lake still belongs to your grandfather. That’s millions of dollars of potential development. It drives my father crazy. He wants your grandfather to sell him some of it.”

“Why?”

“Coffeys have always liked to have a say in the growth of Mullaby. Homesites, businesses, things like that.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because this is our home. For years and years, we thought this was the only place we could live.”

“Is it?”

He turned to face her. “Do you really want to know?” My weakness .

“Yes. Yes, of course I do.”

This was it. There was no going back after he told her. He had to show her then. “The men in my family have an… affliction.”

She looked confused. “What sort of affliction?”

He left her at the window and paced across the room. “It’s genetic,” he said. “A simple mutation. But it’s particularly strong in my family. My grandfather had it. My uncle had it. My father has it.” He paused. “I have it.”

“Have what?”

He took a deep breath. “We call it The Glowing.”

Emily stared at him, still not understanding.

“Our skin gives off light at night,” he explained, and it was amazing, actually saying that to someone outside his family. It was as liberating as he thought it would be. It was even better. The words were out and he couldn’t take them back. He waited for Emily to say something. But she said nothing. “That’s what you feel,” he said eagerly, walking back to her and putting his hands on either side of her face, almost, but not quite, touching her.

She met his eyes. “You want me to believe that you glow in the dark,” she said in a monotone.

Win dropped his hands. “You’ll believe I’m a werewolf, but not this?”

“I never believed you were a werewolf.”

He stepped back, trying not to feel defeated. He had to go on. “It goes back generations. My ancestors left the old country to avoid persecution, because people assumed their affliction was the work of evil. They traveled by sea, and history is riddled with sightings of their ship, said to be a portent of doom. When they came to America, Native Americans called them Spirits of the Moon. They settled here when it was nothing but farmland, far away from everyone, but slowly the town grew around them. No one knew their secret, and they realized they liked it, liked not being so isolated. But the stories of persecution were always handed down, scaring us into secrecy, even in the modern world. That all changed the night your mother tricked my uncle into coming out at night. He stood on the bandstand that summer night, in front of the entire town, and for the first time, everyone saw what we could do.”

“That’s a very elaborate story,” she said.

“Emily, you’ve even seen me. In your backyard at night.”

That gave her a start. “ You’re the light in my backyard? You’re the Mullaby lights?”

“Yes.”

He could tell her mind was working, trying to sort it all out. “Then why have you stopped coming around?”

“I come every night. But your grandfather sits on the kitchen porch below your balcony and tells me to go away before you can see that I’m there.”

“My grandfather knows?” Her voice was pitching higher.

“Yes.”

“Prove it.” She looked around and saw the closet door. She walked over to it and opened it. There was nothing inside but a rain jacket and a single water ski. “Here, come here.”

He walked over to her and she herded him into the closet and followed, closing the door behind them. It was a tight fit. She waited a few moments in the pitch black before she said, “Ha! I don’t see you glowing.”

“That’s because it takes moonlight,” he said patiently.

She snorted. “Well, that’s convenient.”

“Actually, no, it’s not.”

“This is ridiculous,” she said, and he felt her fumbling to find the doorknob.

“Wait,” he said, and reached out to stop her. His hand landed on her hip and she suddenly stilled. “Meet me tonight at the bandstand. At midnight. I’ll show you.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked in a whisper. “Is this some elaborate plan?”

She caught him off guard with that. If she knew he was manipulating her, why was she letting him? “Plan?”

“For getting back at my mother for what she did.”

“No,” he said. “I told you before, I don’t blame you for what she did.”

“But you’re re-creating that night with my mother and your uncle.”

“It has nice symmetry, doesn’t it?”

“Okay,” she said unhappily. “I’ll be there.”

He almost laughed. “You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic.”

“This would be easier if I didn’t like you so much.”

“You like me?” He felt both elated and ashamed. She didn’t answer. “How much?” he asked quietly, the air filling with tension.

“Enough to meet you tonight, even though I’m pretty sure you have something else planned other than glowing in the dark.”

“That isn’t enough?” He could sense her holding her breath when she realized how close his face was to hers. “I’m knotted up with you,” he said. “Don’t you feel it? From the moment we met. I was meant to show you.”

“I need to go.” She opened the door, and a blinding burst of light hit them. She was gone in seconds.

He caught up with her on the deck as she was putting on her shoes. “Don’t go through the woods tonight. Come into the park from the street.”

She stood and stared at him for a long time. He started to reach out his hand to touch her, to reassure her as much as himself, but she gave him a brief nod before turning and quickly making her way down the steps to the beach.

He watched her walk away, then he put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly, thoughtfully, back into the house.

He stopped when he entered the living room.

His father was sitting in the big black leather chair by the couch, his legs crossed.

Win was so astonished he couldn’t speak for a moment. He could usually feel when his father was looking for him. Finally he said, “When did you get here?”