Moonburn by Alisa Sheckley Page B

powers, or were possessed by some ancient spirit. It was uncanny, the things youknew. Then you became this oddly mimsy little creature, constantly second-guessing yourself.”
    “So what am I supposed to do here, consult my navel? So far, it’s been completely silent.”
    My mother was silent for a moment, resting her chin on her hands as she considered me. “The first thing you need to do is get in touch with your third eye.”
    “Can I use my finger?”
    “I can see that’s not the answer you wanted.”
    “If I wanted to consult a shaman, I have one at home, remember?” At least Red had the tribal background to make it sound authentic.
    “You know, at your age, I’d gotten over the need for an authority figure to tell me what to do.”
    “Which explains why I used to have to wake you to get me ready for school.” I motioned to the waitress for the check, and she bounced over immediately, silver eyebrow and nose gems twinkling. I half wondered if she’d been listening in. But then she turned to my mother with shining eyes, and I relaxed. Another fan of my mother’s clever, campy oeuvre. “Excuse me,” she said, “but aren’t you Piper LeFevre? I loved your movies. When I was younger, I wanted to be just like you.”
    “You are so kind, but I’m with my daughter right now,” my mother said, a little grandly. “She gets so jealous when I divide my attention during our times together.”
    The waitress shot me a dirty look. I was ready to go back home.

TEN

    I may have had as much maternal contact as I could stomach in one dose, but my mother had not finished with me. By the time I had finished examining Snowboy’s tooth, shaved a matted Persian, and de-wormed Pimpernel, the perpetually ailing Chihuahua, it was late in the afternoon, and the light was fading.
    “You can always spend the night,” my mother offered. She knew I hated driving in the dark and was probably hoping I could pull Snowboy’s impacted tooth in the morning. But I didn’t have a general anesthetic in my handbag, and the thought of spending a night and a morning trapped at my mother’s held its own gnaw-off-your-own-paw terror.
    “You know me. When I’m stressed, I can’t sleep.”
    “So spend the night and don’t sleep here. You can watch my old movies.”
    All through adolescence, images of my mother in various guises kept me company while my physical mother slept. “Thanks, Mom, but I really need to get back.”
    “As you like. Wait a second, let me give you something before you go.”
    I hoped it wouldn’t be anything like my birthday gift, which had been a tooth-whitening kit, tweezers, a pot of facial wax, and a magnifying mirror—the deluxe criticismbasket. I glanced at my watch. “Mom? Can’t this wait? I really want to get on the road.”
    “Stop being so impatient, I’m coming.” My mother ambled over as if she had all the time in the world and deposited something cold and metal into my hands. “Here. Put this on.”
    I held up the heavy silver chain, which supported a massive pale stone, its iridescent blues barely visible beneath the milky surface. As a whole, the piece was hideous—fussy and ostentatious and utterly at odds with the subtle beauty of the stone itself. “Thanks, Mom, but I don’t really think it goes with anything in my wardrobe.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Abra, you could do with a bit of decoration. And when are you going to get laser surgery? Nobody wears glasses anymore.” She slipped the pendant into my hand; it felt like something used to secure prisoners.
    “To be honest, I prefer delicate things.”
    “You prefer to disappear. Never mind about the style, Abra. Your father’s mother gave it to me. She called it Las Lagrimas de la Luna, the tears of the moon.”
    I examined the stone again. To me, it looked more like drops of semen, but I refrained from saying so. “I think you should keep it, Mom.”
    “No.” My mother’s hand pressed down on mine. “According to your