The Luna

14

Atticus stood at the bottom of the stairs watching me until I stepped through the threshold of my room. I closed the door quickly, already guessing that it would be mere minutes before my guards were back at their post in the hallway.

I stand frozen with my back against the wooden door, my eyes the only thing moving as I take in the intricate gold lettering and details on the cover of the book in my hands.

A white half-crescent moon sits just above the elegant script of the title. I can't help my fingers as they trace over the letters as if trying to somehow connect myself to them. It has to, somehow, connect to me to all of this. My body is practically vibrating with a combination of nerves and excitement, hoping that whatever lies within these pages, will be the answers I'm seeking.

I can tell when I open the book that it hasn't been read in a while. The pages are stiff but easily move for me as I delicately turn each page. There is no author name, I note, searching the first page for any publishing details that all books usually have. But there is none - only two blank black pages and, on the third, an intricate image.

I stare at the painted woman as she lounges on the crescent moon like it's a hammock. Her long, light-colored hair flowing like a river past her shoulders and a slit in the dress that leaves one toned leg completely bare.

At the bottom of the page is a large black wolf sitting tall, its nose pointed high in the sky as if trying to reach the woman's fingers. It reminds me a little of the painting by Michaelangelo, Creation of Adam.

No doubt that this must be the Moon Goddess that Caspian has mentioned. I move to sit in the chair by the window, my fingers skimming over the woman's face as if to memorize the small details. She's classically beautiful, like one that would be seen on an old Greek statue in a museum, with a tranquil expression on her soft features. Even in the artist's rendering, there is something about her, something powerful that seems to leap off the page, as she lay against the moon above her wolf. The need to see what these pages hold grows and I turn the page, anxious to get the answers I've been begging Caspian for.

My heart stutters and thuds painfully as it drops into my stomach as my eyes sweep over the writing on the page. No matter how many times I try though, I can't get the letters to make sense.

Whatever language this is, it's not English.

Frustration and disappointment flood through me as the words begin to blur through the tears building in my eyes.

No. No!

How can this not be in English?! This was supposed to hold all the answers that I've been waiting for! All the answers that make me know for sure that I am where I'm supposed to be. There would be no more doubt. I would have the answers that make it clear exactly what I am to Caspian and his people.

I stand swiftly as my hands start to frantically flip through the pages, looking for something - anything - in English that I can understand. In some of the pages, there are more drawings of the woman on the moon, but without any context from this book, it's just a woman who is constantly near a wolf.

Cold hopelessness moves through my veins and hope deflates in my chest like a lead balloon as more than half the book is behind me now. I didn't realize that I had been crying until a gasp left my lips and the salty tears dropped onto my lips.

Not only have the words turned from some unknown language to English, but they are now handwritten instead of typed.

.

Alpha 1927 - 1952

Alexander Irons

Born 1905 - Died 1981

Luna: Virginia Hargraves

Born 1907 - Died 1926

Wife: Charlotte Marland

Born 1907 - Died1979

Heir: Thomas Irons

Columns of statistics in neat rows cover the bottom of the pages: births and deaths recorded by year, between nineteen twenty-seven and nineteen fifty-two. Black ink swirls in elegant script across the page recording large dollar amounts both brought in and spent.

It's a ledger - I saw something similar in Justice's office back at that diner. Although she was more or less making sure profits overrode the cost of day-to-day operations. Here, it seems that they are recording pack statistics categorized by Alpha. Why would it be in this book though? And what about the Alphas before nineteen twenty-seven?

I flip more slowly now to the next page. Similar black ink is scrawled across the page, still neatly, but you can tell it was a different hand that wrote this entry.

Alpha 1952 - 1976

Thomas Irons

Born 1930 - Died 2007

I don't read the rest or any of the statics. Instead, I flip to the next page, looking at the next Alpha name.

Alpha 1976 - 1998

Edmund Irons

Born 1953 -

I flip again and pause on Atticus' name on the page before flipping again, only to find the remaining pages blank. Atticus is the last entry.

Well, I guess that makes sense, since he is the current Alpha.

Alpha 1997 -

Atticus Irons

Born 1978 -

Luna: Emily Powell

Born 1979 - Died 1997

Wife: Adalaide Walsh

Born 1977 -

Heir: Caspian Irons

The statistics aren't completed on this page. There is still so much space to be filled, and I briefly wonder if it will be filled after the ceremony when Caspian officially takes the Alpha title from Atticus. .

My eyes move to another date on the page. Sadly, it looks like Atticus' Luna died young. That would explain why Caspian immediately gave me two guards. He said it best himself, among these wolves, I am glass. All Luna's are human and with Atticus' Luna, Emily, they must have learned that lesson the tragic way.

That also explains why it is such an honor to be Luna's guard. If the last Luna had died, why wouldn't you train harder to guard the next one?

It all makes sense and yet as my fingers trace the words on the page, the feeling of unease won't lessen. My eyebrows pull together as I continue to stare at the names and dates on the page. I blink once then flip back a couple of pages.

Alexander Irons. My eyes rake over his name and dates before looking more closely again.

Luna - Virginia Hargraves. The dates seem to grow, taking up the entire page until they're all I can see. Nineteen hundred -seven until Nineteen twenty-six. She was young when she died. Much too young - by my calculation she would have been eighteen? Nineteen years old?

A shiver passes down my spine as I flip quickly to the next page, to the Alphas I barely glanced at. Thomas irons.

Luna: Elizabeth Little

Born 1933 - Died 1952

My heartbeat feels like it's about to beat out of my chest as I flip again.

Edmund Irons.

Luna: Abigail Martin

Born 1956 - Died 1976

All the Luna's had died young. But why? How? That's too many to be a coincidence, right? My eyes are unfocused, staring at nothing as fear pricks at my skin. I shouldn't have looked, but at the same time, I needed to know.

Know what? My mind taunts. You still don't know anything. That's true, I don't really know anything, but I have evidence of... well, of something that is not as simple nor as innocent as Caspian had made it seem.

"Maybe if I could talk to one of the previous Luna's?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged after the Luna ceremony," Atticus' words from earlier ring in my head, and if I hadn't already felt cold and numb from the book, I would be ice now.

I don't want to look at this book anymore. I don't want to see it, and it's gold details mocking me. I quickly moved it under the pillow on my bed, not knowing where else to put it.

I can't breathe, I need air. I know a panic attack when I feel one, but I can't go outside. I can't risk running into any of the wolves. I need to think, to calm down, freaking out won't help me now. I sit on the floor with my back against the bed, my head resting against my knees as I focused on taking deep breaths.

Don't you know it's gonna be, alright. You know it's gonna be, alright. I can hear my mom's voice, the familiar tune of the Beatles' song Revolution in my head. Whenever I would get worked up over something, she would sit me down and sing that part of the song. Over and over again until my breathing evened out, and I could talk it out with her.

"Luna?" There was a light knock on my door, but I didn't move to answer it. That doesn't stop Dex though, who opens the door and clears his throat when I don't acknowledge his presence.

"Your dinner is being served in the dining room," Dinner already? How did the day go by so fast? It seems like only minutes ago I was rushing outside after arguing with Caspian the first time.

And only minutes ago that I had brought the book back to my room.

"I'm not hungry,"

"That's not an option," Dex says gruffly, "I will escort you so that you can eat before the Alpha family."

"Alpha family?" My head pops up to look at Dex. If he notices that I had started to cry a little before he arrived, he doesn't say anything, "Am I not eating with the Alpha tonight?"

I don't mean to sound so snippy, but with my frustration it slips out. I should be relieved that I am not going to be forced to sit with Atticus and Caspian tonight. That I won't have to smile and nod along to whatever it is that they will discuss all while wondering what actually happened to the Luna's before me. I need to be alone, to think over everything that has happened today.

How has a day seemed so long and so impossibly short at the same time?

"No, Luna," he says curtly, stepping to the side and gesturing for me to exit, even though I haven't even moved yet.

"Well, as I've said, I'm not hungry,"

Dex snaps his gaze at me, his expression as unreadable as ever, but even I can tell it's colder than usual. I very nearly cave, but I want to be alone, want to sort out this mess that I have found myself in.

"Luna -"

"No. I'm not hungry and unless you plan to drag your Luna out of this room and force me to eat, I suggest you go," I try to sound firm but wonder if I sound as scared as I feel.

The look Dex is giving me could probably kill, and I have very little doubt that that is what he is thinking about right now. Travis steps into the room, placing a hand on Dex's shoulder. The action breaks his gaze on me as the two share a look. Without another glance at me, they both leave, closing the door a little louder than necessary.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until my lungs flooded with cool air.