Page 48 of Angel of Water & Shadow

I shuddered at his name, and I hated myself for it—that even his name, his name, three simple syllables, had this much power over me. “Do you know who that is?”

Shanley shook her head, a few strands of her blonde hair, woven with ashy brown undertones, shaking loose to frame her temples. “Absolutely no idea, but he sounds like a prick. I’m sorry.” It came off genuine enough for me to relax my arms to my sides. “Honestly, I don’t even recognize half the people here. It’s usually our small pack of twenty or so every month, but in the summer, it can get out of control.”

Twenty? Not that night. Maybe add another zero. I nudged a discarded beer can, fighting the urge to pick it up. “You do this every month?”

“Yeah. And don’t worry, we clean up.” Shanley must have noticed the scrutiny, given her wink that followed. “Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted, I found some of my friends. I swear they won’t bite. And we’ll make sure that idiot…”

“Chet,” I offered.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t, either.”

The thought brought a shiver. I didn’t think she realized how literally she’d spoken, what he’d do to me if given the chance. But I wanted to believe her, especially because I still felt his glare stabbing me in the back.

With a sigh my shoulders dropped, effectively giving in to her reassurance. She smiled and tucked me into her side, giving me a one-armed squeeze before steering us a friendlier route.

The group split for Shanley like a royal procession, but they paid their respects in beer, not roses, to their queen—bottles and red cups being thrust in our path, ready for her to clink.

For someone who claimed she was clueless on the headcount, she reciprocated every greeting. I sauntered beside her, offering a nod when anyone said hello, awestruck by what was unfolding. The high and low fives, the pats on the back, the mock howls she received from literally every person.

Rippled indents spread beneath our heels the farther we treaded down shore, my Vans sinking into the ground that had been kissed by the waves a short while ago. A motley crew of six perched on a cluster of barnacled stones and hopped down as we made our approach.

The fresh ocean air vacuumed the veil of smoke and revealed the strawberry moon. It rose above the waterline, igniting the salt crystals into infinite rows of string lights, reflecting across the surface in shiny strips and glowing shards.

Strands of bluish white glistened from the horizon to the bridge of Shanley’s nose. The cool moonlight illuminated a smile that shone brighter than the constellations—it flushed away the haunted look she wore from the day before, practically transforming her into a whole new person.

It was hard not to catch the mood.

Met with howls instead of fist bumps, Shanley returned the primitive welcome, and they sang together as a pack. I pursed my lips in a show of solidarity but refrained from joining in.

This party grew more interesting by the minute. I wasn’t sure if that fascinated me or scared the shit out of me. A little bit of both, I decided, as a chain of people with merlot-stained teeth awaited me with eager grins. Unsure of what the appropriate response would be, I let out a belated “Woo!” and, odd ceremony completed, the exchange of names commenced.

Maverick, with a paisley kerchief tied around his dusky forehead, spoke to me between puffs of his cigarette. He explained that earlier in the day he lost a bet to Des, a busty chick with a green flat mohawk that trailed to her pale exposed, shoulder blades, which led to a tattoo of Smurfette on his butt.

He offered to show me?—

“Maybe next time,” I said.

“Hey, kitten.” Mau flashed a sly grin next to a shirtless and very sunburned guy named Kenny rocking bear trap nipple rings. I continued down the line. Despite their air of ruggedness, Shanley kept her promise: they didn’t bark or bite.

With my elbows propped on the seaweed draped over the rocks, I felt like I could hang! There was enough distance between our small group and the larger gathering, where the chatter and laughter of Shanley’s close friends ebbed and surged with the waves, but its crescendo didn’t rattle me into silence—that was just me being shy.

I leaned in closer to catch Des’s side of the story, but another conversation snagged my attention.

A somber trio built like marines and gruff like unshaven frontiersmen had marched towards the group during intros, pace set by the thuds of the bongo drums. Two stayed tight-lipped, scanning the beach, while Kai, Shanley called him—the one in front, the one in charge—rattled off a monotonous download of the night, as the flares of the bonfire reflected off his ochre biceps.

Normal shenanigans, I determined of the bits and pieces that made it to my ears. Until Kai’s tone changed, and instead of reporting overenthusiastic party crashers, he was getting riled up about bastards and bites and Chet.

Unease flooded me.

If this news bothered Shanley as much as it did me, she made sure it didn’t breach her expression. “What do you mean he bit a guy named Chet?” she muttered to Kai, her face still beaming. It wasn’t a question. It was an order, a command.

Kai masked his emotions, his hooded eyes revealing nothing of concern. “The wrestling turned to brawling. Antonio nipped him right on the shoulder.”

Shanley’s smile didn’t waver as she continued through her teeth, “It’s the full moon, Kai. Anyone bitten tonight will turn.”

My stomach dropped. Full moon, bitten, turn? I didn’t like where this was going…

“Antonio’s drunk.” He rolled his muscular neck, puffing his chest. “And that idiot was asking for it.”

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