Waiting for the Moon

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perhaps a little crazy. You ..." She paused, searching carefully for the right words.

He shivered, drew slightly away from her. "You'd hate me if you knew what I've done...."

"I cannot imagine anything-"

"No. You cannot." He cut her off. "I don't want to be here anymore." He sat up and ripped the blindfold off.

Sunlight splashed his face.

Selena had never witnessed such stark, all-consuming fear. Andrew's eyes widened, turned glassy and fright-eningly bright. Slowly he shook his head from side to side and lifted his fists, as if to ward off a predator that only he could see.

"Andrew?"

He made a small, strangled sound and started to cry. Scrambling backward, he pushed through the damp earth and slammed into a tree trunk. Needles rained down on his moist cheeks and stuck; he seemed not to notice at all. Whimpering, he curled into a small, shaking ball. "Go away.. .." His soggy voice caught, trembled. He started clawing at the red scars on his wrists, as if he wanted to reopen the flesh. "Please ..."

Selena crawled toward him. "Andrew?"

His vacant eyes rolled back in his head and he started to scream.

Selena lurched to her feet. "I need help." She yanked up the hem of her nightdress and raced from the clearing. Breathing hard, she bounded up the porch steps and careened into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. Without a knock, she wrenched open Ian's door and hurled herself inside. "Ian?"

He was sitting up in bed, reading, his white nightshirt gaped across his naked chest. His face was drawn and too pale, as if he hadn't slept at all.

He turned to her. "What is it?"

"It is Andrew. I have done something wrong." The horror of it washed over her. She brought a cold, shak-

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ing hand to her mouth and started to cry. "He is outside. ..."

Ian closed the book. "Andrew never goes outside in daylight."

"I ... took him outside." The words tumbled out of her, forming themselves into a desperate, rambling apology. "It was still dark out. I didn't know ..."

"Christ." Ian threw the covers back and got out of bed. He grabbed a frock coat from the chair by the window and shrugged into it. "Let's go."

Selena barely heard the command, and she was moving.

She heard the screams the moment she opened the front door. The shrill, undulant cries echoed through the still, silent air and lodged in her heart.

Without even realizing it, she skidded to a stop.

Ian touched her hand. "It's not your fault, Selena. He just does this sometimes. Every few months something sets him off and we ... lose him for a while."

She shook her head, knowing it wasn't true, knowing she'd done something terrible to her friend.

He held her face in his hands and forced her watery gaze to meet his. "This is a place for lost and damaged souls, Selena. Andrew is sick. It's not your fault."

"Whose, then?"

Ian looked surprised by the question. "I don't know. How should I know what's bothering Andrew?"

She frowned. Obviously she had phrased her question poorly. "But you are his doctor."

Ian stiffened. "No. I'm his keeper. There's a difference." His hands slid away from her face. Without his touch, she felt colder, more alone. "Now, show me where he is."