Chapter 19: Claire
1615 Words
For a full five seconds, the world is quiet. Too quiet. Draven has just said fate will follow you anyway, and my entire chest feels tight and hot, and heavy in ways I don’t even understand yet.
I’m about to speak when the loveseat explodes. Not literally…well kind of, but LJ shoots upright like she was launched by a spring trap.
“AAAAGH—WHAT TIME IS IT? DID WE SURVIVE? AM I A GHOST?!” She swings her legs over the armrest and wobbles to her feet, hair in a massive cloud, shirt inside-out, mascara smeared. She looks at Draven.Then at Carter asleep on his chest. Then at me. Then at the broken roof letting sunlight pour directly into the living room.
And she yells:“WHY IS THE SKY IN YOUR HOUSE?!?”
Draven winces.I bury my face in my hands.LJ stomps toward us like she’s been personally attacked by sunlight.
“HELLO?? HELLO?? EXCUSE ME?? Did the demon remodel while I was unconscious?!”
“LJ, calm—”
“No, no, I will NOT calm down!” she shrieks. “I slept on a loveseat, I lost a shoe, there is demon confetti all over my favorite leggings, and I JUST WOKE UP TO A RADIANT CELESTIAL HOLE IN THE CEILING!”
I choke on a laugh. Draven tries very seriously to look neutral, but he’s failing. LJ whirls on him.
“YOU. Wolf Fix-It.” She points at the hole.“Go fix that cosmic skylight before my allergies act up.”
Draven gestures to the shattered support beam. “I was fixing it. You… fell asleep yelling at me.”
“I DID NOT FALL ASLEEP YELLING—”
“Your last words were ‘screw you, drywall,’” Draven says dryly.
LJ gasps like he revealed state secrets. “That was a PRIVATE moment!”
Draven lifts a brow. “Is anything you do private?”
LJ’s mouth hangs open in offended shock. I start laughing. Hard. So hard I have to wipe my eyes. LJ crosses her arms dramatically.
“Well, excuse me,” she huffs, “for being the ONLY ONE here emotionally stable enough to carry the weight of this entire operation.”
“You literally cried into a fruit snack wrapper last night,” I remind her.
“That was a DIFFERENT mood! Who’s side are you on?”
Draven shifts Carter, careful not to wake him. LJ notices. Her voice goes soft—but only for a second. Then she points at Draven again.
“Also, Wolf Daddy—”
Draven chokes. Actually chokes.“Do not call me that.”
“—why is my nephew cuddled up on your pecs like they’re memory foam?”
I nearly die.
Draven coughs, flustered. “He—he didn’t want to let go—”
“Oh I SAW,” LJ says, walking circles around him. “Just letting you know: if you’re going to be in this baby’s life, you need to submit paperwork.”
Draven looks alarmed. “Paperwork?”
“Yes,” she says smugly. “Background check. Character references. A portfolio of skills. Emotional stability test—though you already failed that one.”
“I didn’t—”
“YOU. FAILED.”
I snort so hard it hurts. LJ stops pacing, suddenly narrowing her eyes at him. “And what were you two talking about?” she demands. “You look like you dropped a confession and Claire looks like she wants to pass out.”
We both freeze and LJ gasps dramatically.“OH MY GOD. DID YOU TWO HAVE A MOMENT WHILE I WAS ASLEEP?!”
Draven: “No—”
Me: “NO—”
LJ: “LIARS.” She drops onto the couch beside me, pulling her blanket over her lap like she’s settling in for gossip. “Well go on,” she says, waving her hand. “Continue your emotional trauma TED Talk. I can multitask. Cry and interrogate.”
Draven scrubs a hand over his face. I groan. And Carter, still asleep in Draven’s arms, he could always sleep through anything, lets out a tiny sigh and buries his face deeper in Draven’s chest.
LJ gasps and points. “OH MY GOD. HE REALLY DID CHOOSE YOU.”
Draven closes his eyes in misery. I cover my face again and LJ smiles like she just won the lottery.
•••
LJ is sitting upright on the couch now, legs crossed, blanket tied around her shoulders like a cape. She looks like a gremlin Jedi. Or a sleep-deprived therapist. Or a cult leader preparing for a TED Talk. Draven looks like he’s praying for supernatural intervention. I… just want coffee. Without taking her eyes off either of us, LJ claps her hands.
“ALRIGHT,” she declares, “this has gone far enough. I am calling a family meeting.”
Draven chokes. “Family—?”
“YES, Family Meeting™,” she repeats, pointing at him sharply. “Now SIT.”
He looks at her and looks at the ground. “I never moved, LJ.”
I try very hard not to laugh. Carter stirs against Draven’s chest, checks his surroundings groggily, then just… stays. Comfy. Safe. Draven freezes under the toddler like he’s holding a holy relic. LJ notices. Raises a brow.
“And that,” she points dramatically, “is why we’re doing this.”
She clears her throat and looks at Draven with the intensity of a prosecutor.
“First topic on the agenda:
WHY ARE YOU CALLING MY BEST FRIEND LUNA
LIKE SHE’S A MARVEL CHARACTER?!”
I groan and drop my head into my hands.
Draven exhales, long-suffering.
“LJ—”
“No no no,” she stops him, finger up.
“You don’t get to LJ me.
You don’t get to growl your way out of answering questions.
You don’t get to brood mysteriously while holding the baby.”
Draven internally screams.
“Explain.
What.
Luna.
Means.”
I glance at Draven, unsure if he’ll snap or snarl or storm out.
Instead—
He adjusts Carter gently, making sure his head stays supported, then looks back at LJ with surprising patience.
“Fine,” he says quietly. “You want the truth?”
LJ nods vigorously.
I nod too, though slower… shakier.
Draven takes a breath.
“A Luna,” he says softly, “is not a queen. Not a mate. Not a romantic title.
It is the moon’s chosen.
A magical force that balances the wolf and stabilizes lunar magic.”
LJ blinks.
“So like… a witchy moon mom?”
Draven closes his eyes briefly, like he needs strength.
“Not exactly.”
“A moon aunt?”
“No.”
“A magical girlboss?”
“…Gods.”
I snort.
He presses on.
“Luna magic is rare. It’s ancient. It comes through bloodlines tied to goddesses—Hecate included.
Most Lunas don’t know what they are until a moment of great fear.
Their power wakes up.
And their child—if they have one—can feel it.”
LJ’s eyes widen.
“Wait… so Claire’s magic woke up yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“And the demon came because of that?”
“Yes.”
“And Carter blasted you because of that?”
“Yes.”
She spins toward me.
“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!”
I deadpan.
“I was a little distracted by the ceiling monster.”
“Okay, fair.”
Draven clears his throat, drawing us back.
“A Luna is rare,” he says, voice softer. “Powerful. Coveted. And often… hunted.”
My stomach churns.
LJ slams her hands onto her knees.
“OKAY.
Second agenda item:
Who exactly is hunting her?!
Besides ceiling demons and messy ex-boyfriends?!”
Draven rubs his temples.
“Shadow Crawlers are scouts. They don’t attack alone. Something sent it.”
“Something WHAT?”
He hesitates.
Then:
“A Shadow Crawler only hunts when the moon’s prophecy stirs.”
LJ’s face goes blank.
I feel my insides twist.
“…prophecy?” I whisper.
Draven meets my eyes.
And something like sadness flashes there.
“Claire… your son is the moon’s spark.”
My breath catches.
“And you,” he says quietly, “are the flame it protects.”
The room goes still.
LJ slowly raises her hand.
“Yes?” Draven asks warily.
She points at him.
“You’re really bad at delivering good news.”
He huffs a laugh despite everything. But then LJ stands up on the coffee table—nearly falling—wraps her blanket-cape tighter, and announces:“NEW AGENDA ITEM.”
Draven groans. I brace myself. LJ points straight at him.
“You, Wolf Daddy—”
“Stop calling me that.”
“—need to outline EXACTLY how we protect Claire and Carter from whatever cosmic moon bullshit is chasing them. BECAUSE THIS IS NOW A GROUP PROJECT.”
Draven stares at her. “…are you serious?”
She smirks. “Deadly.”
He looks at me. I shrug helplessly.
“She takes meetings very seriously,” I whisper.
Carter, still sleepy, pats Draven’s chest and murmurs “Woof… protect.”
Draven flinches. Then exhales. Defeated. Resolved. “I’ll explain everything,” he murmurs, eyes softening at me— then sharpening at LJ. “But you have to let me talk.”
LJ drops to the couch, grabs a notepad, and clicks a pen. Don’t ask me, I have no idea where she found those.
“Proceed.”
Draven looks at me one more time. Then— He begins.
- Writer
