Blood Moon

Eyvor was pleased that Khonshu was keeping with the deal that she and Jake had made with him. They had even worked out a routine, of sorts. Jake liked to have time with Eyvor at the end of the day, and Marc and Steven agreed to give them privacy for it. No peeking, no appearing in mirrors, just let the two have their time. Jake would then subtly block them out. He was used to it and very good at it. Khonshu would show up then, and she and Jake would decide if it was worth one or both of them going. Usually, Eyvor went anyway, because if she came back all kinds of banged up from something, Marc and Steven wouldn’t fuss as much because she had told them about her late-night excursions. And if they woke up with a missed blood smear or something, she and Jake would let her take the blame for it, that Jake woke up in the night and it must have gotten on him when he was greeting her. 

She hated lying to them, especially Steven when he gave her those worried looks in the mornings, but it was just how it had to be. They wouldn’t like that Jake was still working with Khonshu, but she and Jake weren’t willing to risk something bad happening again. 

Tonight, Jake admitted that he really was exhausted. Steven had the body for most of the day, working at his new job as a tour guide (he had been so excited to get it, and they had celebrated with Layla over it), and with Jake still working as a cabbie and Marc working out whenever he was fronting, Jake was tired. So, Eyvor had told the bird she’d help him, and after kissing Jake goodnight, she’d climbed out the window, disappearing into the night. 

Off across the London rooftops, through the rain, she’d run, until she had found the black market dealers Khonshu had led her to. Usually, it wasn’t her type of thing, but as she watched, she observed the flinching that the servers made whenever the high-class buyers reached for them, the way the kitchen staff kept their heads down whenever that red-headed man walked through with his loud voice. More importantly, she saw how every single “guest” had someone on their arm that had barely-healed burn marks on their upper arms.

She hissed. Who branded people like that? What kind of sick–well, it didn’t matter. Hel was going to be a little bit busier tonight. A low whistle, and her axes and armor were there. 

“I’ve got them,” she told the old bird that was perching next to her. “Can you get the innocents out?”

“That is not our agreement.”

“Vete a la mierda también,” she sneered, proud of herself for the response Marc had helped her learn. “Fine, lazy pigeon.” She cracked her neck and then jumped from the rooftop, landing just outside the kitchen entrance, her hair hanging in wet strands around her. If Marc were here, he might tell her she looked like a drowned cat. She slipped inside and met the eyes of a frightened busboy. “Go,” she whispered, holding the door open. “Get help.” He obeyed, immediately running off down the street. Eyvor quietly guided as many people as she could outside, or at least to a safe corner where they wouldn’t get hurt. 

Then, the real fun began. With an angry sneer, she crouched in the shadows of the covered courtyard, watching the people shuffle the ones with brands off to one side while everyone else sat down in rows of chairs. Eyvor slipped around the edges to where twenty people huddled together, their eyes dull or haunted. Eyvor didn’t even give the guard who was standing in front of them time to yelp. He was dead before he hit the ground. She held a finger up to the people.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered. “Don’t move.” Then, with an angry glare when she noticed that one of the people was a young girl who couldn’t be older than sixteen, she turned to the people sitting down. “Okay, you old bird,” she hissed, “let’s show them what happens when they hurt others.”

An unnatural darkness covered the lights in the ceiling, leaving only the dim lighting from near the floor, pitch black night, but Eyvor had already made brambles and thorns grow all around the people so they couldn’t escape. She didn’t need much light to see. 

Twenty people held captive. Two more were handled amid screams and yells of pain, and Eyvor was left covered in red that dripped off of her like rain. She heard the sirens coming, and it was enough. She left, and as she watched from the nearby rooftop, she suddenly felt something come away from her head. When Eyvor turned, she watched as a cloak of some kind disappeared from her shoulders.

“What was that?”

“You did not cover your face,” Khonshu answered from where he stood beside her. “They would have found you. I will not lose my Moon Knight because you were careless.”

“Hm.” She watched the police handle the scene for a little while before she turned. “Anything else? Or can I do things my way now?”

“I have no more use for you.”

“See you tomorrow night then.” The bird was gone, and she turned, running across the rooftops to get away from the scene. She spent the rest of the night walking across rooftops and down alleys, stepping in where she needed to. The rain didn’t let up the entire night. It was nearly dawn when Eyvor finally climbed back into the window, soaked to the bone and most definitely covered in blood.

“Eyvor?” She turned as she was closing the window.

“Marc? What are you doing awake? It’s early.” He was sitting on the couch, the television on in front of him. 

“Oh, nothin’. Wasn’t tired.” She huffed, locking the window and bending down to untie her boots.

“Jake had the body when I left, and he was exhausted. What’s really the matter?”

“Nothin’. I toldja.” His accent was thicker when he was tired. She toed off her boots, picking them up to carry to the bathroom to dry on the tile in there before coming back to look at Marc. There were bags under his eyes.

“Nightmare?” Marc looked back at the television instead of answering. “Oh, Marc.”

“It’s nothin’. ‘M fine. Are you hurt?”

“No.” She looked down at her hands, which were covered in little pink rivers from the rain washing the worst of the blood off of her. “None of it is mine.”

“You should clean up. Steven worries, ya know.”

“I will. Are you going to stay here?”

“Yeah.”

“Be out in a bit, then.”

“Yeah.”

She took a quick shower and dried her hair before getting dressed in one of Steven’s hoodies and a pair of leggings. When she stepped out again, Marc was right where she’d left him. 

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, standing above him and looking at the movie that was on the screen. She’d never seen it before, and she didn’t recognize anyone in it, so far. 

“Sure.” She sat down beside him, stealing some of the blanket he had thrown over his legs. 

“What is it?”

“You’ve never seen Mission Impossible?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, you wouldn’t have, wouldja? Not from this world. Sometimes I forget. It’s a spy movie.”

“Oh. I know about those.”

“Yeah. That’s what it is.” To be honest, she was tired from the long night. She was watching the movie, but she wasn’t processing what was happening. 

“Marc?” she said over the din of the music from the screen.

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what’s going on.” He huffed a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eyvor scooted a bit closer.

“Explain it to me? If you want to watch it, I want to know what’s going on.”

“I guess. So, see that guy?” She nodded. “That’s the good guy. We want him to win.” Marc began explaining the plot of the movie to her, or at least the parts they were watching. Even still, she was so tired that even as he was talking to her, she missed entire sentences. She blinked, and the movie was on a commercial break. More importantly, she was leaning against Marc’s shoulder. She shook herself, starting to sit up, but Marc’s arm on her shoulder stopped her. The heavy weight of his arm around her shoulders was an anchor. She blinked sleepily up at him to find that he was sound asleep, quietly snoring. She smiled, shifting back to her original position, and closed her eyes. Both of them would be stiff in the morning from sleeping on the couch, but she was comfortable, and if it helps Marc sleep, she wouldn’t move.

She’d told Layla she would wear him down eventually.