Anise is waiting for me.

She is setting on a velvet couch, shadowed in smooth purple light. She is dressed in a blazer with no shirt beneath and black formal pants. A businesswoman.

"I did what you asked," I say.

"I know," she says, and I shiver at the delight in her voice.

The lights glare at me, and I feel like I'm in a dream. Violin music plays softly, and it makes my fingers itch for something to write with. Anything.

"I'll bring the murderer back for you," I say. "I'll deliver him to you."

Anise's eyes glitter. She looks so much like her sister, but there is something more cunning, more manipulative, that sharpens her smile.

"I want him back in less than fourteen days."

"No," I protest. "I'm leaving Friday. That will leave me with nine days━"

She lifts a shoulder in a delicate shrug. "Your problem."

I grit my teeth. "Fine. But . . . can you give me any hint? Any clue? Who even is he, and why he is hunting the girls around Toulouse campus?"

"Ask your roommate," she says.

My roommate? Angela? She might be the campus drug dealer, but she's not a killer. So what am I missing?

But that's all she'll give me, so I nod and leave.

The mug of hot chocolate is warm in my hands.

Gianina's red lips are curved into a smile, and I can't help admiring the colour. That red was made for her.

"Thanksgiving is soon," she sighs.

I lean over the counter, sipping from the hot chocolate. "Is it?"

Considering it was only ever me and my mom, I can't recall a time when I ever had a real Thanksgiving feast.

"My favourite holiday," she says dreamily.

My head snaps toward her. Dressed in her apron, with her warm brown skin and her full red mouth, she looks ridiculously happy. "Thanksgiving cannot be your favourite holiday."

"What?" she says. "Food."

"Yeah but . . . Christmas. Presents."

"Sure, gifts are great, but turkey and roast potatoes and buttered asparagus . . ." She sighs. "Food is the real priority here."

Tommy slides up to the counter. "What are we talking about?"

"How Christmas is the best holiday."

Gianina presses her palms flat to the countertop. "No, we're talking about how Thanksgiving is the best holiday ever."

Tommy hesitates. "I don't know. Food or presents?"

"Okay, presents, but what about the Christmas tree and the colourful string lights and the snowy night sky?"

Tommy nods. "Yeah, that sounds━"

"But when you think of Thanksgiving," Gianina says, "don't you think of cozy evenings and plates full of mashed potatoes and turkey with cranberry sauce?"

"Your argument is based on food," I say.

"And your argument is based on getting gifts."

"Well, that's not entirely━"

But Hunter appears, her steps long and lithe as she makes her way to Gianina's little café. She is holding something. A present.

"Speak of the devil," Gianina gasps.

It's a cardboard box, but it's wrapped in shimmery gold ribbons. And it's━my jaw drops. Why is it moving?

I slowly push my chair back. "Why is that thing moving?"

Hunter's dark eyes gleam. "Open it."

"That's not like a━bomb or something?"

Hunter scowls. "Am I a terrorist?"

I blush, avoiding the stares of both Gianina and Tommy. Hunter sets the box down in front of me, and my fingertips hesitate over the gold wrap.

"What's it for?" I ask.

"Open it and see."

I can't take it anymore. I rip off the gold wrap, trying to contain the box as it trembles. And then I open the cardboard flaps and━

I scream and jump back.

A small, white, fluffy demon barks back at me.

I splutter, "This is a━a━"

"A dog," Hunter says gleefully, and against my will, my heart melts.

Gianina is doubled over the counter, laughing hysterically.

The dog growls at me.

"Really, I can't accept this gift," I say.

I swear it has red eyes. It is glowering at me like the spawn of Satan, and there is a murderous look on its crunchy (yes, somehow, the dog is crunchy) face.

"Oh, please, I insist," Hunter says.

"Well, actually, it's my terror small dogs that's holding me back. And I think it hates me, by the way."

"It'll be good for you," Hunter says, trying to hold back a laugh. "You need to learn to get over your fear. You know, exposure."

"I'm sorry, wait," Tommy says. "You━you're like a ninja, and you went out into battle yesterday with like━this epic blaze of glory━and you're scared of this thing?"

In answer, the dog snarls from somewhere deep inside its throat.

"Exactly," I choke out.

"Dogs can smell fear," Gianina gasps, still laughing.

I glare at her. "I am not keeping this hellish little━"

"Now, now, Jude, don't tell me you're just going to turn away this poor creature because of some bias━"

"Dogs are terrifying!" I point to the white, bite-marked scar on my arm. "Proof!"

Hunter finally tips her head back and laughs. Even as I back away from the dog, it makes me glow with warmth.

"Come on," I plead. "Don't tell me you saw this little dog in an adoption centre and thought, Jude would love that!"

"Hm," Hunter says thoughtfully. "That's exactly what I thought."

It reminds me of our first encounter, when I was trying to escape from the horde of tiny white dogs and Hunter saved me.

"What do you say?" she says. "Won't you give him a home? Won't you give him love?"

"No," I moan. "Don't make me."

"Oh, come on, Jude," Gianina says. "It's just a harmless little thing."

And as she says it, it snaps its teeth, barking viciously.

I am small but mighty, it seems to hiss.

"No, no, no, and no again," I say. "I refuse to be caught dead with this dog. I will not be bullied into owning a fluffy white dog. They are my enemy. They are spawn of hell. The day you catch me with a fluffy white dog will be the day I eat a pencil."

"Come on, Cloudy," I seethe, wrestling with the monstrous little creature. "It's time to take a walk. Yes, you annoying━"

I catch Hunter raising an eyebrow at me, a smirk on her lips.

"You divine beautiful soul," I correct. Clenching my teeth together. "Let's go."

Yes, I know what I said. Yes, I agreed to keep the dog.

Yes, I was bullied into it.

I yank Cloudy away from the sidewalk. Hunter wanted to go for a walk with Cloudy outside of the Underground, so we walk around the streets of New Orleans. Bustling with people and vendors and markets of colourful flowers.

Suddenly, I ask, "Do you believe in God?"

She looks surprised, but she answers, "I used to. My parents don't know I'm gay, but my sister and brother do. My mom was very religious, but honestly, her opinion never mattered to me. I guess I kind of thought, you know, if there was a god . . . I'm not sure where they are. Or if they even care about us."

I think of the carnage of the gang wars. The blood on the candelabra. I think of my mom's death and all the murder and madness of the world.

I shrug. "I guess maybe I think the same way. My mom knew I was gay, and I got the feeling it didn't matter either way. I never even told her, actually. I just came home with a girlfriend, and boom, it was alright."

We pass a vendor selling candied apples, and as I struggle to keep Cloudy from snarling at a dog twice his size, Hunter disappears.

"Where'd you go?" I ask, as she returns.

She holds up two caramelized apples in answer. "Want one?"

I grin. "You know me well."

We keep walking, and I bite into the delicate skin of the caramel, savouring the sweetness of the tangy apple combined with the amber coating.

"Are you excited for Italy?" she asks. The sun is setting, and the sky is a shade of pink so beautiful it reminds me of spring roses.

The thought of Italy peaks my interest. Until I remember why it is, exactly, I can't go.

"I . . ." How can I tell her? The deal I made with the Alpha? "Yeah, I'm excited."

Cloudy barks as though he knows I'm lying.

"So," I continue. "You're going, then?"

"We have Mafia roots in Italy, with the Falcone family," she explains. "Now that Maria is the Mafia lord there, it's a show of goodwill if we go."

"But what about the Saints? And the war?"

"Anise isn't coming," she says. "As her second-in-command, I'm the ambassador."

"Oh," is all I can manage.

My eyes drift to the rose sun. Even Cloudy is silent, as though he is holding his breath.

"Hunter," I start. She looks at me, and there is gold in her eyes, gold and rose. "You . . . thanks. For the other night."

She gives me an arrogant grin. "You're welcome."

She is so beautiful in this moment, with her sharp, wry grin and her glittering eyes. I want to kiss her, to be framed by the sunset in the back. But that's . . . that would be too intimate.

Friends with benefits, I think. Resolve.

But that resolution crumbles when looks away, and a lost look appears on her face. The sunset over the city is beautiful, but it's hidden by the tops of the buildings.

A sudden excitement grips Hunter.

"Come on," she says, gesturing for me to follow her. We pass the vendors and the market, and she pulls me into an unfamiliar apartment building. This reminds me of our first encounter, but I shake away that thought and hurry after her.

Cloudy yaps at my feet, nipping my heels.

He barks at me. I bark back.

He is quiet. Good, I think, until I notice Hunter staring at me, and I blush.

"Did you just . . . bark at the dog?" she says, leading me up a flight of stairs. At the top, it seems likea dead end until she throws open a latch. Dust showers the air, revealing . . . revealing . . . the open sky.

A rooftop.

Wow. It overlooks the entire colourful city of New Orleans. There are parades and silk and banners twisting through the streets. The party that never ends. On the other end, I can see the abandoned downtown, where the gangs have claimed their territory. Where the Underground is buried.

But I don't want to think about the Underground, or gang territory, not right now.

"This is gorgeous," I tell Hunter, and for once, Cloudy shuts up.

A smile that is almost nervous tugs at her mouth. "I used to come here. Before Anise was the Alpha. Back when . . ."

It occurs to me, then, that Hunter must have known my mom.

"She went by a different name," Hunter says. "She called herself Laura."

Her middle name.

"Did you . . . did you ever talk to her?" I ask softly, still looking at the sky.

"I did," Hunter says. "Once. She had these prisoners, and she let Anise watch out of grace for our parents. But then . . . she did something unexpected. She gave the prisoners mercy."

For some reason, this surprises even me.

"Anise was furious. She wanted to be ruthless. She wanted them tortured and dead. But my mom explained to her that sometimes, kindness is more dangerous than cruelty." She chuckles at the memory. "Anise spat at her feet. Bullshit, she said. I wasn't supposed to be listening, but somehow, your mom knew."

"What did she say to you?"

"Well, she said . . . she said, Your sister is right. The Mafia doesn't need a good person, or kindness, or mercy. It comes back to bite you. But . . . maybe one day you'll understand when I say this, I had to do it. I had to show myself I was capable of it. I didn't really get it. Capable of what? Capable of goodness? It seemed ridiculous."

Hunter sighs softly. The sunset has turned the sky red, so brilliant it lights the clouds from the inside out. The world above the city has become a canvas of vivid rose paint.

"But I get it now," she says finally. "I get it."

I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I'm glad I know it━this little piece of my mother. There is so much about her I never knew.

And then something occurs to me.

"Hunter," I say. "What am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"You led me into the Underground because you thought I was a spy from the Saints . . . and then Anise wanted to trade me as a hostage for a ransom . . . but now, now . . ."

I've killed for the Wolves. I've fought for them.

I've proved myself, haven't I?

"And then," I continue. "Just now, you asked me if I was excited for Italy. But if I didn't want to go, would I really have a choice? Am I still your prisoner? What am I?"

Hunter pauses for a long time, watching the crimson clouds float towards the horizon.

"You're not a prisoner," she says quietly. "I believe you're not a spy for the Saints. But . . ."

"Your sister does?"

Hunter shakes her head. "No, but . . ." And then she looks into my eyes, so deeply I swear she knows what I'm hiding. "Whatever deal you made with her . . . and I know you made a deal with my sister . . . it's not worth it, Jude. Don't do it."

Don't get revenge on the Saints. It's like asking me to let go of my mom.

But will revenge from the inside really bring me what I need?

And isn't it too late anyway?

I shake my head, forcing a smile.

"Okay," I say. "But we're still friends with benefits, right?"

Her eyes harden, a challenge. "Don't be defiant, or I'll make you beg for it."

I lick my lips, and her eyes drift to my mouth.

I lean in towards her, so close I can taste her sweet breath a sliver away from mine. Her head tilts, waiting for my kiss.

But then I pull back, still smiling. Teasing━

Her fingers wrap around my throat, and she brings my mouth to hers.

>>>

No, I am most definitely not freaking out at this scene. 

>>>

Okay, one second, wait for it...

From the moon and back,
Sarai