Betwixt (12 page)

“S
O IT
’
S YOU
.”

They were standing in a shadow near the back door, smoking a cigarette. Nix didn’t smoke often but he felt he needed a cigarette
now. The sight of Neve and Bleek and Jacob — especially Jacob, on fire, reproach in his eyes — had shaken him. He crouched
on his haunches then straightened up, stubbing his half-smoked cigarette in a nearby bottle.

“I had a feeling it was you.”

“Of course it’s me.” Moth nodded.

“James Motherwell, huh.”

“No.” Moth shook his head. “It’s Moth. That’s my real
name, just like Nix is yours.” He paused. “But all of this is for later. Now. About the gathering in a few weeks.”

“‘The Ring of Fire,’” Nix said through a tight jaw, the quotation marks audible in his voice. It was as if someone had told
him about it, but he couldn’t remember hearing anyone saying the words.

“Exactly. You’re coming.”

Nix nodded.

“You need directions —”

“Highway ninety-seven …” He had a hard time believing the words were indeed coming from his mouth. He felt the cool beer in
his hand, saw Moth standing in shadow in front of him. He stuttered and then righted himself. “I think — I think I know where
it is already.”

Moth smiled. “You’re better than they said.”

Nix was on the verge of asking “Who?” but he thought he knew that, too. Not a name, a face, but … he knew. It had something
to do with the lights he saw.

“The Ring of Fire,” he repeated. “But why Jacob? What about Jacob?”

“All in good time, Nix.” Moth paused. “First things first: the time for explanations will come. I’m guessing I can trust you
not to tell anyone.”

Nix smiled, though he didn’t feel happy. “No. I don’t think I’ll
be telling anyone.” Then again, speaking words that were barely occurring to him, he said, “Ondine’s coming though, isn’t
she?”

“Yes, Ondine’s coming. She has trouble finding places, though. It’s a blind spot.” Moth looked at him. “You’ll have to help
her.”

He’d have to help her. Nix felt impatient — the turn of events, Neve’s thin little arms, her helplessness, made him want to
get back to Ondine, be close to her, protect her.

“Is that all? No one else?”

“You don’t know? Interesting.”

“Not Finn?” The question was a formality. Nix knew Finn wasn’t coming.

Moth shook his head.

“Not K.A.”

“No, brother. Not K.A. It would have been nice, but no, not him.”

Nix’s eyes narrowed. He thought of all of them there at the party: Ondine, Moth, K.A., Neve, Jacob. Even Bleek. The proximity
was both completely random, born of life in a small city, and perilously meaningful. His mouth went dry and what came out
was almost a whisper:

“Morgan?”

Moth smiled. “Yes. Yes, Morgan. Of course Morgan. Morgan needs to be tamed, true, taught, but yes, Morgan, too. But you. You
are very precious. You are the most precious. Now, how
are you with your … supply? You won’t need any for the gathering, of course, and then afterward we’ll start weaning you. Only
when it’s the right time, though. Only the right time.” Moth’s voice faded. “Oh god, she’s going to be so happy with me. She’s
going to be so proud….”

For a moment Nix thought Moth was talking about Morgan. Then he realized he was referring to someone else. Something about
the remove of Moth’s face — its glassiness, its vacancy — panicked him. Was he high? What had they just been talking about?

Ondine walked up. Nix calmed, erasing all expression. He knew he had to protect her — at least for now, until he knew more.
At least until the Ring of Fire.

She was angry and shaking her head.

“Well, you did it, James Motherwell. The cops are here. The house is a total mess and there are about a hundred people here
I don’t know. Morgan’s probably getting abducted somewhere between here and Southeast. She left without a car, you know. Pissed.”

Moth’s mouth was tight, but his eyes stayed unworried. “I thought she might.”

“You know, you have a lot of nerve coming into my party, disrespecting my friends, then smiling and laughing at life’s rich
pageant. Who invited you, huh?”

“Morgan did, if I remember correctly.” Moth rubbed his lips
together as if to erase a smile. “All right, all right, my lady. It’s all good. I’ll make sure she gets home all right. And
don’t worry about the mess.” He looked around at the carpet of plastic beer cups, cigarette butts, red wine stains. “Moth
will make sure this all gets cleaned up.”

She turned to Nix. “Don’t you love it when someone talks about himself in the third person? It’s
so
cool.” Then she shook her head, screwing up her face. She was about to let Moth have it, but something in Nix’s eyes short-circuited
her anger. “Right,” she managed to spit out. “Whatever. The freaking cops are here. I’ll probably get arrested. My parents
will get called, and since they’re somewhere in Colorado right now, I don’t think they’re going to be too pleased —”

“Your parents aren’t going to hear anything.”

Just then K.A. walked up. He had the too-earnest look of a drunken kid trying to appear sober. “Hey, did you she where Morgave
— Neve — Morgan went? I saw her, I mean, I saw Jacob, and Morgan went …” The boy’s voice trailed off in confusion. “Hey,”
he said then, “the cops are here.”

Moth threw back his head and laughed. “Go home, hero boy. Your sister and your girlfriend will be fine.”

“Who are you?” K.A. scowled.

“Moth.”

“
Moth,
” he mimicked. “Where’s my sister, asshole?” K.A.
started toward the older boy, but quieted when Ondine put a hand on his arm. “I saw you macking on her earlier. Where is she?”

“Morgan went home,” Nix interrupted. “On foot. I think you should go try to find her. Neve got taken home by her dad.”

For a moment K.A. looked confused, then he straightened up and stepped again toward Moth. “Man, if anything happens to Morgan
— to Neve — to either of them, you are hosed. By me.
Personally.
”

K.A.’s words would have been more effective if the last word hadn’t come out
pershonally.
Before anyone could say anything else, a siren wailed and the doorbell rang.
Too much,
Ondine thought. There was too much happening. She was confused. Too many pieces — she needed time.

“Let me deal with this,” Moth said.

Ondine was about to tell him to go screw, but remembered the scene at the liquor store, the cashier’s sudden pliability. She
stopped and quieted, her hands falling to her sides.

“Yeah, all right,” she heard herself saying. “Yeah, why don’t you tell them you’re Dr. Mason. Dr. Ralph Mason, the geneticist.
Dr. Mason, perhaps you’d care to offer a scientific explanation for the color of your daughter’s eyes —”

Ondine’s taunt trailed mid-word. She had no idea why she had just said the last few things — other than that she had been
looking at Moth while she spoke, at his green eyes, and they made her want to lie down, as if in cool, soft grass, and weep.

His face was bland. He leaned in, whispering.

“You know why you’re different from your parents, Ondine.” She stiffened and he moved closer, his voice still lower. “Now
listen carefully. Highway ninety-seven south out of Bend. The twenty-mile point. Paulina East Lake Road. The Little Crater
campground. Park there. The Ring of Fire.”

For a moment she could only stare. Her jaw hung open and she could feel K.A.’s and Nix’s eyes on her. K.A.’s expression was
confused, but Nix’s was steady. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head.

“You’ve ruined my house, screwed me, and definitely screwed Morgan, and you want to tell me about a party? A
rave
? So I can hang out with all the
cool kids
? Get the fuck out of here!”

Moth touched her. “I’m going. I’ll take the cops. Don’t worry —”

She fought back the urge to scream.

“Don’t
worry
? Get out, Moth. Just get out —”

K.A. was between the two of them.

“It’s all right,” he began. “I’ll make sure he goes.” The boy turned to Moth. “I think you’ve done enough damage for one night.”

Moth’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”

K.A. didn’t blink. He seemed very sober all of a sudden. Very sober, or just drunk enough to pull this off.

“I said, let’s go.”

Moth put his hands up and smiled.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He backed toward the door and his eyes found Ondine’s one last time. “You
will
need me,” he said, speaking over K.A.’s head — over the music and over the thrumming that filled the space between Ondine’s
ears. Though she knew he was almost whispering she felt as if Moth were talking right into her head.

“You will need me and I will come.”

It was hard for her to speak but she felt she had to. Her voice emerged, jagged.

“
Need you?
No one needs you, Moth. You’re extra. Good for nothing. The kind of thing you leave on the side of the road.”

“Jesus. She’s going to love you.” Moth shook his head. Then he moved toward her one last time, too fast for her to withdraw.
“You’ll need the password. It’s ‘exidis.’ E-X … I-D … I-S. You can remember that. And by the way” — he wasn’t whispering anymore
— “you did invite me, Ondine. Or at least Morgan did. I never fly to a light that’s not lit.”

With that James Motherwell bowed and slipped out the back door.

T
HERE WAS A SHITSTORM TO CLEAN UP
and Ondine wouldn’t let her imagination freak her out any more than it already had. She made her way to the kitchen to check
out the damage, which was significant: broken glasses everywhere, beer all over the floor, cigarettes stubbed out on the counters.
Even one of the cupboard windows had been smashed. She threw cold water on her face, tied back her braids, and tried to shake
off her mounting terror. One thing she knew: This party was
over.

By the time she made it to the front door with Nix and K.A., most of the kids, spooked from the sirens and blue lights, had
filed out the back. It didn’t matter anyway. When Ondine opened the front door the cops just stood there smiling. The house
smelled like beer and pot smoke and there were still drunk under-aged teenagers milling past, but the police acted as if they
were there to sell raffle tickets. They smiled, asking if everything was all right.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and tried to look them in the eyes, but it didn’t seem to matter. They were blank. She had seen the
look before — from the guy at the liquor store.

“Well, all right then!” Both cops turned on their heels to leave.

Ondine looked after them, stunned. She felt like calling out —
Hello, I’m underaged! Hello! Alcohol is being consumed!
— but instead turned to Nix and K.A. behind her. “What the hell just happened?”

They shook their heads, just as confused.

“Did Moth talk to them?”

K.A. nodded. “I saw him out here for a second. But not that long. I don’t know. Maybe he knows somebody on the force.”

Moth didn’t know any cops. It was something else. She just couldn’t figure out what. Something about the way Moth controlled
people, the way he rendered them powerless without lifting a finger — well, maybe a finger, remembering the way he raised
his hand before the cashier in the store. The intensity, if not the gesture, was familiar. She recognized it in herself.

What the hell did he mean,
She’s going to love you?
Who? How?

Ondine felt sick. She had done something wrong and hadn’t had to fess up to it. James Motherwell or no, she should have gotten
in trouble. Hell, she
wanted
to get in trouble. Her parents would have been called, they’d have been forced to come back, she’d have gotten grounded.
Normal teenaged consequences. But instead Ondine’s parents had left her alone for a whole year, she threw an out-of-control
party on the first night of their absence, and except for some heavy cleanup and maybe a couple hundred bucks in repairs,
she hadn’t had to pay for what she’d done. It wasn’t
right.
At the same time, she was relieved to have gotten off, and that relieved feeling made her feel guilty. This, too, was familiar.