Hollow Heathens (Tales of Weeping Hollow, #1)

by Nicole Fiorina

Hate me, moon girl. Hate me like the rest of them. Hate me as I hate me. Because if you don’t, one of us will kill you, and it will probably be me.

There was no longer a need to figure him out or ask him questions. Only to be around him. To be with him. To be real like this. Julian Blackwell was cursed, and now, so was I.

But I would take Fallon whichever way I could have her. It was possible she felt the same in return. Perhaps she would take me whichever way she could have me—my shadow-blood too—until she let it kill her.

I would go to him, and I would love him. All of him. Over and over … on repeat. Because I was certain all these things he was made of were the very parts missing in me.

Do not fall in love with the moon, they said. I fell in love anyway, and they would all laugh. They could not see her beauty. No one would believe me if I said the moon breathed life into me. That it was here, inside her, where I found myself again. They would not be able to understand. And no one could ever love her as deeply as I did. No ordinary being was created to fall in love with the moon, only that of the aberrant. The strange. They said you couldn’t know the moon, touch it, kiss it, make love to it. You could only watch from the dark trenches of the earth, admire it from afar. Yet, still, I fell in love with the moon. And she, too, fell in love with me.

Because I loved her—the girl who had to die to break the curse—and I would take everything I now knew to the grave. Leave nothing behind. Not even a human.