Page 4 of Fool Moon First Aid

“You little escape artist,” I chide with a mix of exasperation and affection. This isn’t her first escapade, and I have a sneaking suspicion she does it to test me, particularly on weekends like this, when she’s supposed to accompany me home.

“Ava!” Eloise’s voice travels from the front of the clinic. The sound of her approaching footsteps, a rhythmic tap against the linoleum floor, grows steadily louder. “Do you need anything before I leave? I have a date with a vampire tonight and barely an hour to switch from vet tech mode to date night glam.”

“Use the de-scenter at the front,” I suggest, kneeling down to begin my search for Bean. My first stop is her favorite hiding spot—the large, lush snake plant sitting in the corner of my office. The plant’s irony as a hiding spot for an actual snake never fails to amuse me.

“Did Bean pull her usual Houdini act again?” Eloise asks as she leans against the doorframe, observing my search efforts.

I glance up at her, noting the glaring contrast between us. Where I embody a more classic look, with my long brown hair and soft brown eyes, Eloise is a striking figure of modern beauty, with platinum blonde hair, a canvas of colorful tattoos adorning her arms, and an aura of confidence that says she’s not to be trifled with. It always brings a secret smile to my face when pet owners assume she’s the more capable handler. Their surprise when I step in, calm and collected, is a small but delightful victory.

“Yes, and on a weekend too. You’d think after all this time, she’d stick to the routine,” I mutter, my hands gently parting the leaves of the snake plant, searching for any sign of Bean.

“As for the de-scenter,” Eloise continues, “you’re cool with me taking one, right?”

“Absolutely,” I reply, my attention still on the hunt for Bean. “We hardly ever sell them anyway.”

“That’s because they are more of a spiritkin necessity. Humans rarely see the need,” Eloise points out with a playful roll of her eyes, “and they are definitely not coming to a vet clinic for their spiritkin needs.”

I chuckle, crawling toward the window where the sunlight streams in, bathing the room in a warm, golden hue. “It seemed like a smart addition at the time,” I admit. “So where’s this vampire taking you?”

“Donatello’s,” she replies, her voice tinged with excitement. “I met him on that dating app I’ve been raving about.”

I let out a resigned sigh, my hand brushing against the cool, hard edge of my desk as I move. “Not this again,” I grumble, even as a glimpse of pink catches my eye behind the planter.

“Just give it a chance, Ava. Download the app and set up a profile. No need to upload a photo if you’re not ready. Just existing on there as a woman is usually enough.”

“I’m not downloading Find a Mate,” I insist, pulling back a leaf to reveal nothing but a small pile of snake droppings. “Great,” I mutter, rising to take a better look around.

Eloise raises a pierced eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “She left you a present, didn’t she?” Her tone, rich with the dry humor typical of our exchanges, accompanies her handing me a wipe from the dispenser adorned with whimsical animal motifs. “And it’s not called that,” she remarks.

“Enchanted mate, soul finder—whatever it is, I am not downloading it,” I declare firmly, cleaning up Bean’s mess. That snake, a master of hide-and-seek, loves to keep me guessing. Or cursing her under my breath.

“Otherworldly Connections,” Eloise corrects me. “You might find it intriguing, Ava. Tell me, when’s the last time you…you know?”

Not finding my elusive snake among the lush green leaves of the snake plant, I stand up and then slump back into my office chair. It’s one of those old, squeaky ones that’s seen better days, but it’s comforting. “Are you really asking about my sex life?”

“Yes. When was the last time you bumped uglies? Rode a stallion in the bedroom rodeo? Played hanky-panky? Cleaned the cobwebs out of the womb room?” Eloise reels off her creative euphemisms, each one more outrageous than the last, while her eyes twinkle with mischief.

I have to cut her off, or she’ll keep going. “Eloise,” I interrupt, my laughter echoing in the small, cluttered space of my office. “Womb room?”

“Well, yeah,” she replies nonchalantly, shrugging a delicate shoulder adorned with a tattoo of a mythical creature. Her black lips curve into a mischievous smile. “Why not give it a try? I’m concerned about you, especially after…” She hesitates, her eyes briefly clouding with concern. “You know.”

I know all too well. That wound is still a raw, aching spot in my heart, pulsating with memories. “Mama,” I whisper, the word heavy with unspoken sorrow.

“You’ve buried yourself in work these past few years,” Eloise observes softly.

“Five years, and they still haven’t found who or what did that to her,” I say, my voice tinged with frustration and grief. They found Mama in the spiritkin slums of Mystic Falls, a place people whisper about in hushed, fearful tones. Right on Merger Ave. A wolf pup discovered her naked, battered body in an alley. At just forty-five, someone cruelly snuffed out her life. We all suspect hunters—those who believe that if you aren’t human, you don’t deserve to breathe—but Mama was a hundred percent human. She had no reason to be there.

Not to mention my father blames the spiritkin. Each group continues to point the finger at the other, and I sit here, without answers.

If her blood had been drained, I’d have strong words about Eloise’s date with a vampire. Instead, I change the subject. “What’s Boomer’s mom’s name?”

“You’re dodging the topic, Ava,” Eloise chides gently, shaking her head, her earrings jingling softly. “It’s Rosie.”

“She doesn’t strike me as a Rosie.” I clear my throat, turning my attention to the charts sprawled out on my desk amidst various veterinary tools and personal knickknacks, waiting for Bean to deign to grace us with her presence. “Okay, text me when you get to Donatello’s, and again if you decide to do anything else.”

“I might not text back if things get interesting,” Eloise says with a coy grin. “He’s bringing his bonded. Three delicious, sculpted vampires, and not the sparkling kind either…or at least I hope not.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “I might just become their vampire bride.”

“And what, exactly, are your plans with all of them?” I ask, half in amusement, half in disbelief. Spiritkins, with their innate tendency to form tight-knit groups, intrigue me. Once, it was about survival, but now, it’s more about their heightened desires.

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