The Waking Moon

Chapter Thirty-Two

I was surprised to see a white Mercedes parked outside of Rhodes's house when I returned. There were never visitors, especially so late at night. It must belong to a neighbor, I decided. But when I crept through the front door, I noticed a light on in the kitchen, and I could hear low voices talking inside.

I tiptoed through the dark dining room and stopped to listen. I recognized Rhodes's voice, though it sounded different. Instead of his usual cockiness, his tone was nervous and weirdly polite. The other voice was just the opposite. It was confident, yet at ease. And it was female. I crept closer to the doorway and peeked into the kitchen.

Rhodes was sitting at the table in front of an ancient-looking typewriter and a stack of paper. Books were scattered all around, a few of them open with post-its marking the pages. Across from him, with her back to the door, was a woman. She was wearing only a men's button-up shirt, her long, bare legs elegantly crossed to the side, an empty water glass in her hands. Dark hair fell in thick waves down her back. She let out a husky laugh and tossed her head coquettishly. It was Juliana.

The floor seemed to drop out from beneath my feet. I reached out to steady myself, rattling the glass door of the china cabinet. But they didn't notice. Rhodes was in the middle of some complicated explanation of what he was studying. I'd never heard him speak that way before. It was very impressive.

"...You just need to generate a synthetic membrane," he said, "plus something to coordinate metabolic activity, and a synthetic DNA sequence, which is like a computer program that drives the metabolism."

Juliana leaned over the table, chin in hand, and shook her head. "I knew the second I saw you that you were smart, just like your dad," she said. "Beyond smart. You're brilliant. I mean, what are you...seventeen?"

"Sixteen."

"That's amazing!" Juliana looked genuinely excited. "Do you plan to study biology in college?"

Rhodes looked down at his typewriter, his neck and ears a mess of red splotches. "Yeah. Biotechnology. Mostly cellular energy production and biochemical energy. There's a lot of amazing stuff happening. We could re-grow missing limbs. Create new organs. I mean, this stuff is well underway."

Juliana smiled broadly. "I'm blown away."

"You want to hear something weird?" Rhodes said. Juliana widened her eyes and nodded eagerly. "There are now three leading researchers in this field that have gone missing. One in California, one in Texas, and one in Denver. The last two have vanished just in the past few days. Isn't that crazy?"

Juliana reached over and touched his arm. "You'd better be careful."

With an inexplicable flash of jealousy, I watched Rhodes's anxious eyes flick to her face. He laughed, but it wasn't a laugh I'd ever heard before. It was deeper and sounded fake.

"I'm a high school kid. I don't think anyone's out to get me."

She smiled and got to her feet. The bottom of the shirttails barely covered her upper thighs. "Your father must be so proud of you," she said.

I saw Rhodes glance at her legs. He fidgeted with the space bar of the typewriter, making a rhythmic clunking that he didn't even seem to hear. "My sister's at Stanford. Pre-med. It's pretty hard to compete."

Juliana filled her glass at the filtered water dispenser in the fridge. Then she moved behind Rhodes and, as if she'd known him for years, draped an arm across his chest. She put her lips to his ear and said something I couldn't hear. His whole body stiffened and his face went crimson. He nodded. She straightened up and headed for the farther door, which led to a hallway, and then the staircase.

"I'll be down soon," she said without turning around.

She disappeared through the door. A moment later I could hear her dainty bare feet ascending the stairs. Rhodes sat at the table like a statue, staring blankly at the page in the typewriter. I stood in the dark, reeling, unsure what to do. He already thought I was nuts.

"Rhodes," I said in an urgent whisper.

Rhodes startled. "Jesus, Paulie!" He peered into the darkness holding his chest, as if he were having a heart attack. "Where the hell have you been?"

"What is she doing here?"

He looked genuinely sorry. "Unfortunately, I have no control over my father's midlife crisis." He tried to goad me into the kitchen as if I were a frightened child, but I refused.

"I don't care if you think I'm crazy," I pleaded. "Let's get out of here until the morning. We can find some all-night place to get coffee. You can tell me about your science fair stuff. Or your death statistics. Whatever you want. But let's go! Now!"

"I have a chemistry test in the morning," he said. We're not all on enforced hiatus from school, you know."

"Please, Rhodes."

He looked at me sadly and sighed. "Julie is leaving in a few minutes. If you want, I'll hide you someplace until she goes."

"But what about you?"

"Trust me. I'll be fine."

He got up and came into the dark room. "Come this way," he said, putting a gentle hand on my elbow.

We passed through the living room and down a long hall, where Rhodes opened a door at the very back of the house. Even before he turned on a lamp, I could smell the crisp paper, the bonding glue. I'd always found books to have the most soothing smell in the world. Rhodes turned on a few reading lamps. The walls were lined with built-in shelves, and they were so packed with books, some could only fit by being wedged in horizontally on top of the others.

I took a seat in a floral upholstered chair at the back of the room. "So she doesn't know that I'm here in the house with you."

"Of course not. Just stay here. I'll tell you when she's gone."

I watched him head for the door with his usual stooped, self-conscious walk, and there was a flutter of panic inside me. "Rhodes!"

He stopped and looked at me expectantly, his face tired but ever-patient.

"Don't go."

He gave me a smile that said how nice that you care so much about me. "I'm just walking her to the car, Paulie."

Normally, I would've wandered slowly along the shelves looking at the titles, pulling books out and thumbing through pages. But all I could do was sit with my fists tightly clenched, waiting to see those eager blue eyes appear at the door again. An antique grandfather clock stood regally beside a writing desk across the room, and I watched every single minute tick by. Fifteen. Thirty. Forty-five. Sixty. Seventy-five. Ninety.

But Rhodes didn't return.