To Walk the Night by E. S. Moore

large window overlooking the green. The far end of the lake could just be seen over the trees. A couch sat along the wall to my right and two matching recliners to my left, all facing the desk. The place was tidy, clean, and had an air of practicality I wouldn’t have expected from the Luna Cult. It was stunning how different they were at home than when spotted in tattered clothes on the streets.
    Two men rose from the couch as I entered. One was short and scruffy and welcomed me with a wide smile. He looked as though he hadn’t combed his hair in a good three months, if not longer. His cheeks were covered in a patchy sort of stubble that ran all the way up his cheekbones to just under his eyes. His eyebrows were bushy, hanging above his eyes like giant caterpillars. He folded his hands behind his back, ruffling his already wrinkled suit. He gave off an air of friendliness that was hard to ignore.
    The other man wasn’t nearly as friendly looking. His hair was soft brown, mingled with flecks of gray. It was clipped short in a buzz cut that exposed a flaking scalp. His jaw was square, just like everything else about him. His shoulders fell perfectly in line with the floor, his posture perfectly straight. His shoes were polished, his coat buttoned at the navel, which just served to add to his rigid manner.
    Neither man had a crescent moon tattoo.
    Buzz Cut frowned at me as I walked in. His eyes flickered to my guide before settling on me. Disapproval was clear in his gaze, but he kept his mouth shut. That was a plus. It was clear he wanted to say something, and if he did, I might just have to punch him in the mouth. I knew whatever this man said wouldn’t be pleasant.
    “Lady Death,” my shrouded guide said, closing the door. He moved to stand beside the desk, keeping his back to me. He gently tapped his fingers on the polished wood. “Also known as Kat Redding. Is it short for something?”
    I wanted to keep my eye on Buzz Cut because, quite frankly, I didn’t trust him, but the mention of my given name startled me. Only Ethan knew my real name. Ethan and the dead.
    The mysterious man shifted and I noticed for the first time how his hood seemed to slope funny to one side. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on, but the whole thing seemed off, as if my eyes just weren’t seeing him right.
    “Don’t call me that,” I said.
    “What? Lady Death? Mrs. Redding?”
    “Either.”
    “Then what should I call you?”
    I brushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. The movement caused my coat to fall open just enough to expose the hilt of my sword. Buzz Cut’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a move toward me or say anything.
    “Kat, if you like,” I said. I hated him knowing so much about me, but if he had to call me something, my first name would be less damning if others were to hear. “But I would prefer if you forget all those names. I don’t exactly like having who I am spread about. In fact, I would like to know how you know me, how you knew where to find me.”
    “In time, Kat, in time.” The cloaked man shook his oddly shaped head. “Is your first name short for something?”
    “Why does it matter?”
    “It doesn’t.” He sighed and moved around his desk, then took a seat. The leather chair creaked as he settled his weight. “I just want to know.”
    “It’s not.”
    He turned his face up to me ever so slightly. I still couldn’t see a damn thing in the hood, and it was starting to piss me off. By now, I should have caught a glimpse of something in there. I mean, even a sliver of light finds its way into the darkest corners now and again, but this guy’s face seemed to be made of darkness.
    Now that was an unsettling thought.
    “Not what?” he asked. I heard the smile in his voice.
    “Not short for anything.”
    “So Kat is your given name? Interesting. I would have thought it might have been short for Katherine or Kathy, maybe even Katelyn.”
    “Why the fuck does this