Son of the Moon

Son of the Moon

by Maxwell 

copyright 2024, all rights reserved

Killian held to the armrests carefully,not wanting to crush them and frighten anyone or worse damage the metal tube he was in. Said tube seemed to shake, bouncing up and sideways as if it were a drunken guest staggering home. 

The girl sitting next to him was maybe twelve, possibly younger. She hadn’t tried to speak to him the whole flight, but now she reached out and patted his arm, smiled at him. She was a lovely young person with red hair and a sun burned nose. “Everything will be okay,” she said in French. 

French was so much better than English. French had been Latin longer and had always smelled like civilization to Killian. “How do you know,” he asked her, trying hard to smile in a way that wasn’t strained. It was true that he hadn’t been off his island since George III had been king of England, but sitting still for so long could not possibly be civilized or in any way noble. 

“I fly this trip like twice a year, up and back. My Mama lives in Rio and my Papa in New York. It always gets bumpy as we get close to North Carolina. It’s always fine.” 

“I find this entire contraption an offense to good sense! I should certainly have booked a berth on a ship and sailed like a gentleman!” 

The girl rolled her eyes. “I’m Madelyn. Sailing takes about four months. Planes aren’t so bad. You should just get your doctor to give you some xanax before you fly. Why do you speak like the Medieval poetry my sister shares with me? She’s doing her PhD at the SorBonne.”

“That’s fantastic,” Killian said, “And I’m old, so I speak like an old man.” 

“You can’t be that old,” Madelyn said confidently. “You look maybe thirty? That is old, but not like Chretien de Troys old.” 

Killian pressed his palms together, looked up at the plastic ceiling and for just a moment he could hear his old friend complaining about the lack of manners in modern students. “He did not live long enough. I wonder how long it would take one of these nasty tubes to go from Paris to Jerusalem.”

“Well, let’s look it up old man,” Madelyn said cheerful. She pulled out a glass rectangle and caressed its surface like it was a magic stone. Google Maps says about four hours and fifteen minutes, for about four hundred dollars, USD.” 

“Sweet Mary, Mother of God,” Killian said. “What is this thing in your hands?”

“Oh it’s my new iPhone. Don’t you have a phone?”

“Certainly I do.” It was on his desk, in his office and he’d bought it new from the phone company in 1973. “It’s blue. It’s very fashionable.” 

“Great. I want to see. Is it ios or android?”

“Excuse me,” Killian said, eyes wide. “It’s a touch tone and was the very latest thing when I got it.” 

“I see. What’s touch tone,” Madelyn asked, but she also typed it into her glass block. “Touch tone came out in 1963. Give it over. I want to see it.” 

“But I don’t have it with me. It’s on my desk, at home.” 

“Your phone is a landline?”

“A what?”

“Do you have to plug it into the wall?”

“Yes, don’t all phones plug into the wall?”

“Of course not,” she said, squinting at him. “This is a phone.” She held up her glass block. “When we get to the airport, you should buy one. It might be really helpful for you. What’s your name?”

“Killian Marlowe.” He said, before pulling out a business card and handing it to her with both hands. “There is an email on it, but my assistant monitors it.”

“I see,” she said. She pulled a notebook out of the pocket on the seat in front of her, wrote down an email address and handed it to him. “This is my email address. I monitor it and email me if I can be helpful, okay.” 

“You are very kind, my lady.”

“Try not to speak like Medieval poetry. It’ll freak people out.” 

“I shall so endeavor.” 

Soon the plane came a bumpy, but successful landing. Killian swore in hissed tones in the most florid and archaic Medieval French with embellishments in Latin and Old Norse. Madelyn patted his hand.

Killian laid a hand on hers, leaned a little and said in a hushed voice, “How does one, if one wanted to, come into possession of such a device as your glass box?”

“Go into a store, give them money, probably show them your ID.”

“How much money?”

“Like $1200, then a monthly fee of like $120 or so.” 

“And it works wherever I go? I’m going to Seattle. They work in Seattle.” 

“Oh yeah. Seattle is home to Microsoft and Amazon. Tech works fine there.” 

“And there should be a shop such as sells these when we get out of this tube?”

“Yeah,” Madelyn said. “Do you want me to take you to one? I have to catch a different flight. If you’re going to Seattle you have to catch a different flight too. Let me see your ticket.” 

“This isn’t Seattle?” Killian said, rather horrified. 

“We’ve just landed at Charlotte Douglas International. So we’re going to have to go through immigration, then if there’s time, you can go buy a phone, but you have to get to your next gate and on the next flight before it leaves without you.” 

“I think I’d rather walk the rest of the way,” Killian said.

“Okay, Oregon Trail. My dad says there was a game about that when he was really young. People used to get dysentery.” 

“I boil my water. I’m not uncivilized.” 

He felt perfectly uncivilized when they got out of the jet bridge. Charlotte Douglas International Airport was busy, loud, and not even remotely medieval. An airline employee came up to them, talked to Madelyn, wanting to know if she was alright. At first he was a touch offended. It wasn’t possible that the airline maid could suspect him of being a werewolf, but then he thought about when he’d last been off the island, in England. Perhaps he was imperiling Madelyn’s honor by being alone with her. If that were the case, her family should not have let her take the metal can without a chaperon, at least her own personal maid with her. 

Iris had flown into the island and left on her own without the slightest comment about her honor. Iris could probably defend her honor on her own. While his luna didn’t seem inclined to swords, she was perfectly able with her fists. 

He wandered away, looking at the shops, trying to find a shop that might equip him with a magic block of glass. He had the vague recollection that Costa had tried to give him one, but it hadn’t seemed interesting. It was too big to be a cufflink and too small to be a sword or bludgeon tool. 

He finally found a suitable shop and walked in with his head held high. The clerk was a young woman and he worried about her honor, but she seemed like the only one there. “Madame, I mean no disrespect or disharmony, but I wondered if I might buy a glass brick of knowledge in this shop?”

“Do you mean a phone? Because we sell phones here.” She had her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. 

“Will you please help me with a phone? I would like to be able to answer questions with it and send and receive emails.”

“Do you want iOS or Android?”

“I don’t know how to choose.” He pulled a business card from his inside vest pocket and handed it to her with both hands.

“We don’t take purchase orders, if that’s what you’re wondering. Have you had a phone before?”

“Yes, but it was blue, touch tone, and needs to be connected to the wall.” 

“Okay. What’s your budget?” 

“I am unconcerned about cost.” 

“Uh uh,” she said. Her name was Kimberly, according to the plastic tag on her shirt. She pulled out a Galaxy Fold phone for him, powered it up, and offered it to him. 

“How do I ask it for information?”

“What kind of information. Do you know what Google is?”

“My assistant sometimes says that word, but I really don’t know what it means.”

“Great. See this image here? It’s a circle with red, green, and yellow, right? If you touch your finger to that it’ll bring up a web browser opened to Google. In this bar here, you type your question, then hit the search.”

“Oh it’s a magnifying glass, like a detective!”

“Very nice, yes. You can also activate Bixby and just asking what you’re looking for. Often, he’ll just tell you the answer. He’s an AI.” 

“What is an AI?”

“It stands for artificial intelligence. They’re not really intelligent yet, but they’re getting there.”

“So like a new form of cryptid?”

“Kind of. What kind of cryptids do you like?”

“Oh, I’m very partial to werewolves. My personal assistant is a vampire.”

“Does he sparkle,” Kimberly asked, her lips smirking. 

There was a joke in there, but Killian wasn’t sure what it was. “No, but he can be very effervescent when he makes his boyfriend happy.” 

“Love is everything, is it not?”

“Indeed, it is, my lady. The words of my own true lady touch my heart, as if she were sunset and the blessed cool of evening after the most trying of days. 

Kimberly stared up at him. Her elbow on the counter, chin in her palm, hearts in her eyes. “Where does this lady of yours live?”

“She lives in the kingdom of Seattle.” 

She laughed, batting a hand at him. “No wonder her words feel like night to you. If she lives in Seattle, she’s probably never seen the sun. Also, Seattle is a state, not a kingdom. We don’t have kingdoms in America, except for Mar-a-lago. That’s in the state of Florida. They have so much sunshine there that people never see the nighttime.” 

“Cela ne me plaist pas!” Killian said firmly, in clearly Medieval French.  

“Okay, you old timey vampire dude, how do you want to pay for your shit?”

Killian smirked and pulled an actual gold coin from his vest pocket. “What is the exchange rate for this?”

“That would be a fucking no, my dude. I need to be paid in US currency, usually with a credit or debit card.” 

“I got it,” a new voice said, as Gisco came up beside Killian. The new man was shorter, wirey, dark black hair and electric blue eyes. He handed a Kimberly a titanium mastercard. “Boss, do you really want this stuff? I brought you a phone.” 

“Miss Kimberly has been very helpful. I expect she gets a commission. I’m sure these are very fine choices.” Killian said it like he should buy the stuff so that she gets her commission.

“She’s getting a commission,” Gisco said, an eyebrow twitching, because she was getting a commission.

“I don’t get a commission,” she said firmly, both hands on the counter, looking from one man to the other. “He said he wanted the best, so that’s what I picked out for him. Sign and pay or get out.” 

“I’ve already given you a card,” Gisco growled, “Ring him up. Where’s the contract? This better be for unlimited service.” 

“Of course,” Kimberly snarled back as she swiped the card. 

“Do you want this woman? Is this what this is about?” Gisco growled, hand out for his card. He turned his attention back to the woman, eyes gliding over her. “Do you want to come to Seattle with us?”

“I’m not for sale!” She smacked his card back into his hand, along with a pen for him to sign for the credit card charge. 

“I wasn’t offering to buy,” Gisco spat back. 

“I’m not for rent either, asshole!” 

“Boss! Can I kill her?” 

“No, Gisco. Bring my purchases.” Killian was already walking away. 

Kimberly had already bagged up the five thousand dollars worth of tech and mouthed, “Get out!” 

Gisco grabbed the bag and ran after his boss. 

Killian’s focus had shifted to another woman. 

She was curved like the arch of the moon. Her braids ended in golden beads and he thought she looked like a goddess. There was a man standing too close to her, in Killian’s opinion. The man dressed like a peasant, the kind of peasant who had no master, but dressed only to please his dogs and the woods. His hair framed his face like an overgrown thicket. His lips were thick and red and reminded Killian of honey theft, but were at least more pleasing than the teeth behind the man’s lips. The man raised a hand  toward the woman and said, “But why would you not be interested?”

Killian had a very long stride which let him step between the man and the woman just as the man said that. He drew himself up to his full height and gestured with an elegant hand that so longed to have the hilt of a sword to wrap around. “Be off with you, knave.” 

“I’m talking to the lady, you libtard!”

Killian did not understand the meaning of that word, but the tone was evident. He snarled. His emotions were high, even if his eyes turned an icy grey, elements of wolf presented. 

The knave ran.

“Did you just bear your teeth at him,” The woman asked him, as she stepped away. 

She held a large leather bag and Killian was quite sure she could use it as an effective cudgel. “I did. Unsightly, but effective. I meant no offense to you, my lady.” 

She let her bag drop down so the straps were around her wrist, her fist around the straps. Yes, it would make a very effective cudgel.

Gisco showed up just then, stepping between them. “Ma’am, my boss is a method actor, please excuse him! Boss, we need to go. Our flight.” 

“I will not get on another of those tubes!”

“You can’t just run from here to Seattle.”

“I can,” Killian protested, as Gisco dragged him away.

“But you don’t need to. Come on! I’ve changed our itinerary. You’re going to like this much better!”

“I doubt it! The thing shakes like a cheap carriage on an English cart path!”

“I promise! Don’t I always take good care of you boss? You’ll love this!” 

Killian did not think he would, but he let Gisco drag him across the airport.