Page 107 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Ava—” Ethan begins, attempting to soothe me.

“No,” I snap back as I turn to face him and then glance at the others in the backseat. “This is too much. They are targeting the spiritkin, Ethan.” Tears spill over, unchecked. “They are intent on killing our spirits. That’s what my father was discussing. ‘Kill her spirit.’”

“Fuck,” Brody curses under his breath. “Ava, I can’t stand the thought of you being unprotected.”

“They believe I’m residing on clan lands,” I say, sniffing back my distress. “Just give me this week. Please.”

“Ava,” Tyler interjects, reaching out, but Ethan parks in front of Ellie’s apartment and produces a shirt from the duffle bag at my feet. “One of us will always be close by,” he assures me, holding my gaze. “At the slightest hint of danger, we’re getting you out of here.”

“Ethan—” Tyler interjects.

“No,” Ethan cuts him off sharply. “This is about trust and patience.” His gaze softens as he turns back to me. “I’m sorry.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I barely whisper, “Thank you,” before climbing out of the car and pulling the shirt over my head. Each step away from them feels like a betrayal to my soul.

Ava

Grief is an odd phenomenon, a living entity dedicated to tormenting the soul and exacting memories as its toll. It dives beneath the skin, weaving through tendons and muscles, sinking into the core of our being.

It commandeers time, reducing it to a meaningless figure on a malfunctioning microwave. Grief has the power to unhinge the sanest among us, transforming vibrant thoughts into echoes of what once was.

As I peer at the documents spread before me, my vision blurs, the sensation akin to sandpaper against my eyes. I’ve lost track of time, reduced to a shadow dwelling in the past, simultaneously living and not.

I’ve let the world believe I’m healing from human injuries—a broken ankle, ribs, and a thigh wound. Little do they know a simple shift has mended me completely.

Eloise has the clinic handled, and she even broke out the air mattress after I climbed in bed with her because her couch was giving me a crick in my neck.

And my phone… Well, that continues to sit in the little box where it belongs, because I can’t call them and tell them what I know now.

I will. I just need time.

Resting my head on the window frame, I stare at the papers.

There is so much incriminating evidence, and I don’t know where to start. Fact is, I haven’t known what to do with all of this since I began to go through it.

I cried until my eyes swelled. Eloise laid me down with frozen peas on my eyes, and then when they healed, I cried some more.

My father is a monster, and I have the evidence to not only take him down, but also the entire Puritas cult as well—one cell at a time.

The first packet of papers was official Puritas documentation. Inside was a set of papers that include official Puritas Umbra letterhead forms. Among them is a certificate of leadership, explicitly naming Christopher Thompson as the current head of the Puritas Umbra. The document outlines his roles and responsibilities, including the oversight of operations aimed at the eradication of supernatural beings, specifically one known by the code name Eclipse Veil.

It’s a secret communications and operations plan within the Puritas Umbra. It signifies actions specifically designed to weaken, demoralize, or directly attack the spiritkin, aiming at the very heart of what makes them unique—their spiritual essence.

It’s to kill their spirit, which essentially turns the spiritkin human, and worse, the men in the Puritas Umbra see these women as a challenge. Once they break them, they own them.

This is what my father planned for me—he wanted Elijah to break me, to kill the spirit that I didn’t even know I had.

The next set of files are all correspondences. There are several letters and emails indicating my father’s direct involvement in planning and authorizing missions against supernaturals. Some of these communications hint at recent operations that align suspiciously with events or attacks known to me and the supernatural community, like the attack on the child.

Then there is the membership list—a full roster listing the names, roles, and contact information of key Puritas Umbra members. This list not only confirms my father’s position, but it also reveals a network of individuals working under his command, some of whom I know and are prominent figures in society. Hell, I remember having dinner with these people as a child.

There are property ownership records as well—deeds and other documents proving my father’s ownership of the house where my mother was found. This directly ties him to the location and suggests his involvement in activities more sinister than I ever imagined.

That fact took me out for an entire day, because the implication… No, I can’t go there yet.

My gaze settles on my father’s personal journal—the most damning discovery of all. Within its pages, my dad expounds on his belief in the supremacy of humans over supernaturals, justifying his leadership of the Puritas Umbra. More disturbing is the revelation of my parents’ arranged marriage—my father essentially purchased my mother, then systematically crushed her spirit.

Even worse is the photographic evidence. I could have lived my entire life blissfully unaware of these images. They show my father at Puritas Umbra gatherings, including ceremonies and events where members are inducted or promoted. Some photos eerily capture the moments before raids on supernatural communities, with my father prominently featured.

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