"Your sister? Are you sure?" Moon Dragon asked as she flicked on the overhead light.
Both she and Franco froze their hasty dressing when I turned to face them. Moon's petite frame wilted under her red silk robe as she took in my appearance, and the expression on my face must've answered her question because she nodded slowly, her bluntly cut black hair shining its lustrous halo in the overhead glow.
"You're hurt," she whispered, dark eyes wide.
Franco moved to close the door with a quiet click and finished buttoning his jeans. "There's a dead guy in the woods? You didn't kill him, did you?" He gulped. "Did you?"
"Of course she didn't kill anyone." Moon's voice held a razor's edge, and the solid belief in her words tightened my throat. I'd known her a year and a half, and already she was the best friend I'd never had.
I turned away and stared at my currency card leaning against the framed drawing of Feozva, goddess of the iron religion I invented when I was a kid to explain away my obsession with metal. All secrets could be hidden under the guise of faith, and so far, it had worked. Even Moon didn't question my so-called beliefs.
Wild chains teased the air around Feozva's head and cascaded down her body. Last time Pop visited, he said it was the most beautiful self-portrait he'd ever seen of me.
"No, that's Feozva, Pop," Ellison had corrected him, and I'd felt like a fool, like I'd reverted back to childhood and announced my imaginary friend was ready to take us all doll shopping.
Feozva's gray eyes were the same color as Ellison's and mine. I'd heard stories that ours matched Mom's, but every photo of her was destroyed in the house fire back on Wix after I was born. With a great shuddering breath, I steeled my spine then stuffed the card in my pocket.
"Absidy." A warm hand touched my shoulder. "You're bleeding."
I shrugged it off. "It's nothing."
"It most definitely is something. You're dripping all over my Presiante rugs." Moon Dragon's hand became an iron claw when she pushed me by the shoulder into a desk chair. She floated her fingers above my head with a grimace like she was afraid to touch it. "Your chains... What happened?"
I heaved a deep sigh and sank into the seat while Moon went to the service panel by the door and flew her fingers over the keypad. A large folded cloth and a tube of Second Skin landed in the panel's bin with a soft tink. Blood-loss already made the room spiral, and a dripping trail would lead the police right to me. Then I wouldn't be much good to Ellison at all.
"The dead guy ripped some chains out of my head," I said.
Her eyes widened. "Holy shit, that's heavy." She squatted in front of me with the bandages and medicine.
Franco whistled as he stepped closer to inspect the damage. The ends of his long chestnut hair brushed against his well-formed pecs, and they tickled my nose when he leaned in. "Well, if you did kill him, it would serve him right. That's a nasty scratch you got there."
"Absidy could never kill anyone," Moon said, squeezing a glob of medicine onto the cloth. "On three, okay?" She readied the cloth above my head, and we both stiffened our shoulders because we knew this would hurt. "One..." She must've lost count because she smashed the cloth into my head.
"You fucker," I hissed through my teeth, but the pain wasn't near as bad as my ripped open scalp. Tears coursed down my face anyway.
"Remind me to never bleed around you, Moon," Franco said, and dropped a kiss on top of her head.
She quirked an eyebrow and tipped up the corner of her mouth in a smile that vanished with her next question. "Why would the Saelis take your sister?"
I sagged my shoulders with a sigh. "I don't know. She took a cruiser to deep space and - "
"Wait. Deep space? Is your sister demented or something?" Franco asked.
I cut my gaze to him and answered with a simple, "No" that snapped his mouth shut again.
"I'm sure she had her reasons," Moon said and pressed her lips together into a thin line while she unfolded the cloth. Blood colored most of it except a patch below her thumb. "But it's a wasteland out there. There are ship-eating nebulas and rogue planets that zap ships out of the sky."
"And space pirates," Franco added. "So I've heard."
"You're not telling me anything I don't already know," I said and pointed at my ankle. "Can you put some Icy Skin on this?"
Moon swallowed then glanced at my suitcase on the bed. "But what are you planning to do? Go after her? Are you going to shout her name out a ship's window until you find her?"
"Well, I can't stay here. Besides, some guy in the woods snapped a picture of me covered in blood standing over the dead guy. I'm as doomed as one of Jezebel's crickets."
At the mention of her name, a long furry arm tipped with three inch blue claws reached down from her tree post attached to the ceiling, and gently curled under my chin so I'd look up at her. Her tilted head, the softness in her clear blue eyes, the feel of her fur against my skin - I couldn't help but offer her a small smile.
My relationship with Moon had cemented itself because of Jezebel, Moon's pet slothcat. I'd applied to Smixton with the hope of maintaining my reclusive lifestyle, but much to my chagrin, roommates were required. But Moon and I found an instant common ground laughing at Jezebel's crazy antics. It was impossible not to fall in love with something that insisted on sleeping nose-to-pink nose with me or that raced a victory lap around the ceiling after every successful poop. I was powerless against both the blue fur ball and Moon.
"So..." Moon strode to the control panel for the Icy Skin then dabbed some on my bruised ankle. "What were you doing in the woods?"