Dark Moon (18 page)

I sped to Damon’s
apartment, my mind whirling. I had tried to get details from Maryanne, but she
wasn’t making any sense. All I could ascertain is that she had found him dead
in the kitchen.

Even though there
was no rational reason, I felt massively guilty. What if somehow, I had
willed
him to die? I’d even confessed to Michael that I wished Damon was dead sometimes.
Fuck, I wished it
all
of the time.

This isn’t like
moving objects with your mind.
But as much as I tried to convince myself
otherwise, I was terrified that I had something to do with this. What if that
was my special dark power? Knock humans dead with my sheer hatred for them.

I shuddered. I
wouldn’t do that – even if it were possible.
And it’s not
, I told
myself firmly.

But it wasn’t just
the nagging fear that I was involved in Damon’s death that was making me feel guilty.
I had to admit that hearing he was dead, despite the fact that Maryanne was
devastated, despite the fact that a
human
life was now gone, I felt…relieved.
I wouldn’t say I was happy, but I sure as shit wasn’t sad.

As quickly as
Damon had waltzed back into my life, now he was gone – forever. 
There would never be any running, hiding – not from him, at least. How
could I not feel like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of my
shoulders?

In his twisted
mind our week since reconnecting had been a rekindling of a five year old
romance. Even if I had run, he wouldn’t have stopped until he found me again.

And then I started
to get angry. Why was I beating myself up over some douchebag’s death? I didn’t
have to leave now. He had tried – and failed – to ruin my life. Yes,
it was a blessing in disguise – and I felt
almost
certain that I
had nothing to do with.

When I arrived at
Damon’s apartment, I felt like I was in a cop show. The entire complex had been
roped off with yellow DO NOT CROSS tape. Police officers were milling around,
telling the small throng of people to stay back.

My eyes scanned
the crowd for Maryanne. Finally, I spotted her. She was sitting on the curb on
the other side of the narrow street, her face buried in her hands. I rushed
over to her, throwing my arms around her.

I could feel her
sobbing. I squeezed tighter, wanting to make the pain go away. Maryanne pulled
back and looked up at me. Her face was red and blotchy, streaked with mascara
and eyeliner, and her beautiful blue eyes were swollen and bloodshot.

She was in shock,
devastated. “What happened?” I managed to choke out.

“I don’t know!”
Maryanne wailed, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her tears. At least she wasn’t
hysterical anymore – no, now she just looked numb with shock.

“He – I,”
Maryanne started, then leaned forward and vomited onto the asphalt. I vaguely
realized that some had splashed onto my shoe and pants leg, but I didn’t care.

She sat back up,
wiping her mouth, and tried again. “I came to see him. Oh, Lana, I should have
stayed with him last night!” Fresh tears were welling up in her eyes. “If I’d
been here, I could have called 911, could have done
something
. Maybe,”
she paused, “
this
wouldn’t have happened.”

“Maryanne, I can
guarantee you this is absolutely in no way your fault.”
Although I can’t say
the same for me.

“They aren’t
saying how he died.” Maryanne shuddered. “I – I didn’t even realize he
was dead. He didn’t answer when I knocked so I let myself in. And there he was!
Sprawled out on the kitchen floor. It almost looked like he was asleep. I
leaned down and started shaking him. At first I thought maybe he had too much
to drink, because he wasn’t moving, but Damon isn’t – wasn’t – a
big drinker. That’s when I panicked.” Maryanne voice was shaking
uncontrollably. She stopped speaking, began inhaling and exhaling rapidly.

“Maryanne!” I said
in alarm, rubbing my hand along her back. But her breathing just kept getting
more and more labored. She was having a full-blown panic attack, and I had no
idea what the fuck to do.

I watched
helplessly as Maryanne gasped for air. “Does she take any medication that you
know of?” I swung around, sure I had imagined the familiar voice. “Michael!” I
exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Ignoring my
question, Michael sat down on the other side of Maryanne. “Maryanne, I have
something that will help you, but I need to know if you’ve taken anything
today,” he said gently, placing his arm around her, trying to comfort her.
Maryanne shook her head between the gasps.

“Concentrate on
slowing down your breaths,” he instructed. “Then you can take this; it will
make you feel better, I promise.”

I could tell
Maryanne was focused on his soft, calming voice. Slowly, the shallow breaths
became longer, not as labored. Maryanne’s beet-red face started to fade to
pink. Michael held out a pill and a water bottle. “Take it,” he said.

Without
questioning what “it” was, Maryanne did as she was told. Then she buried her
face back in her hands, not looking at or speaking to either of us.

“What did you give
her?” I asked in a low voice.

“Xanax. It will
stop the panic attack.”

“Is it legal?”

Michael grinned
wryly. “If you have a prescription.”

“Why’ve you got
it?” I hissed.

“Because ever
since we broke-up I’ve been a complete basket case, barely functioning. My
colleague wrote me a script for it.” Michael paused. I looked away, studying my
hands. “Anyway,” he continued, “what happened?” He eyed Maryanne. “Maybe we
could go talk somewhere else.”

“I’m not leaving
her,” I said immediately.

“We’ll go just
over there. You can watch her,” Michael promised.

Reluctantly, I
climbed to my feet and we walked away from Maryanne so that we could still see
her, but she was out of earshot.

“I don’t know
much,” I said. It was weird standing there talking to Michael, as though we
were both concerned friends of Maryanne and not ex-lovers. Thoughts of sex with
Michael flashed through my mind, but I pushed them away.

“But Damon’s really
dead?” Michael questioned.

“Yes,” I
whispered. “But before you say anything, just because I said I wished he was
dead doesn’t mean I actually meant it,” I said defensively.

“Woah,” Michael
said, reaching out to touch my arm. I felt my body warm up. I had to focus. It
didn’t matter that I was still insanely attracted to Michael. I always would
be, but I would never have him again, so it didn’t matter. And besides, this
was about Maryanne.

“I didn’t think
you had anything to do with this,” Michael said in a low voice.

“How did you even
know to come here?” I asked wearily.

He motioned to the
vans and camera crews. “I saw the story,” he said. “I recognized the name and
drove straight over.”

“That was sweet of
you,” I replied, not looking him in the eye.

“Look, Lana,” he
started, then paused.

I crossed my arms
in front of my chest. “Yeah? If this is about Saturday, then save it. I got the
message, loud and clear. Why are you here? Maryanne is
my
friend, not
yours,” I said pointedly.

“For fuck’s sake,
if you’d just let me talk! I was going to come find you today, even before I
knew this had happened.”

“Me?” I asked in surprise.
“Why? So you could tell me what a liar I am again?”

“I’m sorry about
that,” Michael said. “I was upset.”

“I have to get
back to Maryanne.” I was dying to know why Michael had wanted to see me, but I
wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook yet. He had dismissed me, not even
entertained the notion that I could have been telling the truth. And even
though I hadn’t let myself think about it, I was hurt.

“She’ll be okay
for another minute. I need to talk to you. And we can see her from here,”
Michael reminded me. “She hasn’t moved. The medicine will make her feel better,
at least numb the pain. It kicks in pretty quickly.”

Maryanne did seem
to be planted on the curb.

“Okay, so why were
you coming to see me?” I asked again.

“Because I know
you were planning on leaving today,” he said bluntly. “Disappearing. For good.”

“How?” I demanded.
There was no point in denying it. I obviously couldn’t,
wouldn’t
leave
Maryanne in this state. And now that Damon was dead, what would I be running
from?

“Your mother
– Sabrina – came to visit me.”

I felt a wave of
dizziness wash over me. Everything started to go dark, like a movie that fades
to black at the end. Waves were crashing in my ears.

“Lana! Lana!” I
could hear my name but it sounded far away.

And then I couldn’t
hear or see anything as I lost consciousness.

When I came to, it
took me a minute to understand where I was, what I was looking at. I was on my
back, under a tree. I squinted as the sunlight peeked through one of the
swaying branches.

“You’re awake!”

I turned my head
to see where the sound was coming from. Michael was sitting next to me, a
worried expression on his face.

“What happened?” I
asked, struggling to sit up, but my head still felt light, and I fell back to
the ground. All at once the memories of the last few hours flooded my mind.
“Maryanne!” I said in a panic.

“Relax,” Michael
said gently. “She’s right over there, a few feet away from us.”

“How long was I
out for?” I asked him.

“Only a few
minutes,” he assured me. “But you gave me quite the scare.”

“I’m in shock,” I
admitted. “These last few days have been hell. And now, finding out that Damon
is dead and you’ve met Sabrina…” My voice trailed off. “I didn’t even know if
she was still alive.”

“I can’t
understand it, either,” Michael said. “But what I’ve been trying to tell you is
that I know you didn’t lie to me.”

“Really?” I looked
at him in surprise.

“Really,” he
confirmed. Michael reached out and ran his fingers along my cheek. He was
looking at me the way he used to look at me – when everything was right
with the world, before Damon tried to sabotage it all.

“Sabrina showed me
the tape. She also showed me other things.” Michael paused. “She can move stuff
with her mind, like what you were trying to do.”

“I’m so confused,”
I mumbled.

“Let me start at
the beginning,” Michael said. “I got home Monday night from work and she was in
my apartment. At first I thought it was you; the resemblance is uncanny. I
tried to call out, but I couldn’t speak. It was then that I realized I was frozen.”

“Frozen?” I echoed
in confusion.

“Immobilized.
However you want to put it. She told me who she was immediately. Said that she
has been watching out for her daughter – you – ever since she gave
you away. Sabrina knew that you had confessed your secret. She told me I had
just blown the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was furious that I
hadn’t believed you.”

“Wow,” I breathed,
trying to take it all in.

“Sabrina said you
were planning on leaving for good. When she put the video on, she finally
released her hold on me, let me move, let me speak. I asked how she knew all of
this, if she had been spying on us. She assured me that she hadn’t. She said I
wouldn’t understand how it was possible to see things without physically
seeing
them.”

“Like a psychic
ability,” I whispered.

“Yes. She warned
me that I had better find you, because if I let you leave I’d never see you
again. It sounded so crazy, but I couldn’t ignore what I was seeing. I watched
her move things without touching them. I think she wanted to prove that you had
the potential to do it, too, because you’re her daughter.” Michael paused.
“Lana, I’m so sorry I doubted you.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“You weren’t to
know,” I said. “It would sound insane to any normal person.”

“When I heard that
Damon was dead, I couldn’t help but think Sabrina might have had something to
do with it,” Michael said grimly. “She stressed that she would do anything
–
absolutely anything
– to ensure your happiness and your
safety.”

“And Damon was threatening
both of those things.” My mind was reeling. Could my mother, who had spent so
many years fighting the darkness, really be capable of murder?

“I know you need
to get back to Maryanne,” Michael said. “It was selfish of me to lay all of
this on you while you’re trying to help her cope with Damon’s death, but I had
to tell you. I had to know that I hadn’t lost you for good by acting like a
pigheaded, colossal idiot.” Michael looked at me shyly.

“Of course you
haven’t.” My voice cracked. I could never hate Michael, even if I put every
ounce of my energy into doing so.

I struggled to sit
up. “I’ve got to at least try and comfort Maryanne,” I said.

“You two should
stay with me tonight,” Michael immediately replied. “If that’s okay, of
course,” he quickly added.

“Of course.” I knew
that it was completely inappropriate but I found myself grinning anyway.

Michael helped me
to my feet and we walked back over to Maryanne. She looked up when she heard us
approaching.

“Oh, Michael,
you’re here,” she said in a dazed voice.

Michael and I
glanced at each other. She didn’t remember him talking to her earlier, giving
her the Xanax. “Why don’t you and Lana come back to my apartment?” he
suggested.

“I have to stay
here,” she tried to protest.

Michael shook his
head. “For what?” he asked gently. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone
can do.”

“I have to stay,”
she repeated. “They told me that I need to come to the station for
questioning.” She gulped. “Since I’m the one who found the body, called 911.”

“Then you need a lawyer,”
Michael said.

Maryanne and I
looked at him in confusion. “But I didn’t do anything!” Maryanne wailed.

“Right, but if the
cops think you did, they’ll question you for hours, try to break you, try to
trip you up on minute details,” Michael explained. “I know someone. A friend of
my family’s. Ira Gold. Let me call him.”

Michael stepped
away. “Do you really think I need a lawyer?” Maryanne asked shrilly.

“Yes, we’ve
watched enough Dateline. Michael is right,” I agreed.

“So are you two
back together? Why is he here?” Maryanne’s brow was furrowed in confusion. She
looked dazed – a combination of Xanax and shock, most likely.

“He saw it on the
news,” I said, not answering her first question. I got to my feet and held out
a hand for Maryanne to get up, too. She placed her palm, which was icy cold, in
mine and I pulled her up.

“Ira will come
with you when you talk to the cops,” Michael said, walking back over to us.

“It’s going to
look like I have something to hide,” Maryanne protested.

“Just trust me,”
Michael said. “Let’s leave, and if someone tries to stop you, I’ll do the
talking.”

We had only walked
a few feet away when one of the cops called, “Wait a minute!” and came jogging
over. “Miss, we need you to come to the station for questioning. You can’t
leave.”

“Do you have an
arrest warrant?” Michael cut in.

“Well, no,” the
officer admitted.

“Then she’s not
coming to the station right now. Can’t you see she’s in shock? Her lawyer will
be here tomorrow; she’ll come in to give a statement then,” Michael said. His
voice was confident, unwavering.

“That’s not
acceptable,” the cop barked back.

“With all due
respect, officer, unless you have authority to arrest her, we’re leaving.”

With a disgruntled
sigh, the officer turned and walked away.

Michael put his
arm around Maryanne’s waist. She half stumbled, half walked with him all the
way to the car, where he helped her climb into the back seat.

I drove my car to
Michael’s apartment.

“You should rest,”
Michael told Maryanne when we got back.

“I don’t want to,”
she protested, sitting down on one of the black leather couches.

“Take this; it
will make you feel better.” Michael got another Xanax out of the prescription
bottle and handed it to Maryanne. “I’ll go get you some water.”

“What is this?”
she asked me in a feeble voice when he’d left the room.

“It’s Xanax,” I
said. “Don’t you remember taking one earlier? It will help with the anxiety.”

“I can’t imagine
anything would help right now,” she said, her eyes filling up again. “But I’ll
take it. Maybe it will kill me, and put me out of my misery.”

“Don’t say that!”
I exclaimed.

Maryanne didn’t
answer.

Michael came back with
a glass of water. He handed it to Maryanne and she dutifully swallowed the
pill. Michael sat down on the other couch. He had been our rock throughout the
awful morning, but now he looked absolutely exhausted.

Maryanne curled up
in the fetal position. Soon, her breathing became steady and I knew she had
fallen asleep.

“Drowsiness is a
side effect,” Michael assured me. “And it’s safe for her to have two. It’s the
lowest dose.”

“Okay.” I paused
and ran my hand along the smooth leather, trying to think of what to say.

“Weird morning,
huh?” Michael commented, breaking the silence.

“That’s an
understatement. Do you really believe Sabrina could be behind this?”

“Can you think of
anyone else?” he countered. “Of course, it’s not fair to just assume that. We
need to wait and hear the autopsy report. Hopefully that will shed some light
on Damon’s mysterious death.”

“I still can’t
believe she came here last night,” I said in a low voice. I glanced over at
Maryanne, who was still sleeping soundly. As gently as possible, I got up from
the couch and walked towards the kitchen. “Can I have a drink?”

“Of the alcoholic
variety?” Michael asked wryly.

I smiled. “I had
meant water, but wine sounds better. I may just become an alcoholic after all
of this,” I muttered.

Michael got up and
we went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a half empty
bottle of white, getting two wine glasses out of the cabinet.

Did he drink
the other half by himself?
Or had Abigail come back here after they were at
the bar? I had to know, even if it meant accepting that he’d hooked up with
her.

“Maryanne saw you
out with Abigail Sunday,” I blurted out. “Did you sleep with her?”

Michael looked
over at me in surprise. “Of course not,” he said. He handed me a glass of wine.
“I went to the bar Sunday because I was going crazy in this place. Everything
reminded me of
you
,” he said. He took a sip of wine and looked away. “I
would sit down on the couch and try to watch TV, and thoughts of you snuggled
up next to me were almost unbearable. Then I tried to drink some wine and knock
myself out, but being in the bedroom was almost worse. I couldn’t stop thinking
about you, about making love to you, then falling asleep with you in my arms.”

Michael walked
towards me and engulfed me in a hug. “I even miss the way your hair makes my
nose itch,” he teased.

I felt so warm and
safe and protected in his arms. We stood there, embracing, and I could feel
Michael getting hard against me.

He pulled back
with an embarrassed laugh. “Not exactly the appropriate time for that, but I’m
afraid that’s just the effect you have on me.”

I smiled and sat
down at the kitchen table. “Finish telling me about Sunday,” I said. I still
didn’t know why he was at the bar with Abigail.

“That stupid bitch
must have been watching my apartment. She claimed to just have happened to be
at the same bar, but I didn’t buy that it was a coincidence.” Michael frowned.
“I should have sent her away, or got up and left myself, but I wasn’t in my
right mind. I sat there, talking to her for about an hour,” he admitted.

I could feel the
jealously and rage building up inside of me. “And?” I asked, trying to keep my
voice even.

“And nothing,”
Michael said lightly. “I was reminded of all of the things I dislike about her.
Oh, she expected more, don’t get me wrong. I shouldn’t have egged her on like
that. She thought she was going to come home with me.”

“Did you even
consider it?” I asked, my heart racing.

“I’m not going to
lie to you; yes, I did. But I knew, even in my screwed up state, that it would
just make things worse. I almost wanted to do it, just to get back at you,” he
said sheepishly. “I really thought you’d played me all this time, Lana. But now
I know how wrong I was.”

“It’s okay,” I
said, relief washing over me that he hadn’t slept with Abigail.

“When I left the
bar Abigail got really angry to find out that she wasn’t coming home with me.
She tried to kiss me and I let her – but only for a second,” he hurriedly
added.

“While we’re
admitting things, Damon tried to kiss me, too. I had to pretend I was planning
to leave with him,” I said.

Michael’s jaw
tightened and he took another sip of wine. “At least they’re both out of our
lives now. Shit, that’s a terrible thing for me to say. I feel so bad for
Maryanne right now.”

“I know,” I
agreed. “I don’t know how she’ll ever recover from this.”

“She will,”
Michael assured me. “It’s clichéd, but it really does take time. Time doesn’t
make it any less painful – you just get used to it, you learn to live
with the pain. And eventually, you find that you aren’t thinking about it daily
anymore.”

“Is that how it
was with your mother?” I asked.

“Yes,” he
answered. “Although Damon’s death is more of a shock. At least we had warning
before my mom died.”

Michael sat down
next to me at the table and clasped my hand in his. “I really love you, Lana.
I’m so glad you didn’t leave.”

“Me, too,” I
whispered. “I love you so much, Michael.”

We sat there
staring at each other, both knowing what we wanted to feel, what we wanted to
do
,
but there would be plenty of time to make love to Michael again. We had all the
time in the world.

###

Michael insisted
that Maryanne and I sleep in his bed, and he’d take the couch. We managed to
drag her to his room when she finally woke up, still drowsy from the medicine.

Maryanne was
sleeping soundly, but I was lying there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. I
kept mulling over the last week of my life, trying to understand how it had
come to this.

I felt terrible
for Maryanne, but the relief of Damon being out of my life for good was
overwhelming. There was still one nagging question in my mind: could my mother
really be capable of such a thing? But who else could it be? I didn’t know how
I would feel if I had a daughter, how I would react if she were in danger. I
had no right to judge Sabrina, really.
If she’s even responsible for this.