“If you keep drinking like this, I’m sure there will be one sooner or later.”
Amarantia sounded flip, but all the same she felt a chill. John’s eyes were nearly black, never a good sign.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Our family. This month. When there’s a full moon.”
“Well, then, you don’t have to worry.” There had been a full moon at the beginning of the month. “It’s come and gone.”
Amarantia remembered the moon because she and Hay had sneaked out to meet at Seventy-Fourth Street in front of the statue of Alice in Wonderland. Midnight had been bright as day and they could easily read the lines chiseled in granite around the sculpture: ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe. Amarantia had started something between them with a kiss and now what was done could not
