Light inches into view, pushing darkness away. Talis’ heartbeat is next to my ear and a bird, maybe a California Condor calls from high above in the sky, circling so far above, it’s only a speck against the blue sky. The heat wrapped firm around me radiates my whole being. I can’t tell where Talis’ arms start and end and where I start and end. The porch ceiling comes into view and my feet find the ground. Talis steadies me with one hand on my shoulder and the other still wrapped around my waist.

Priya’s voice floats from inside the house, through the closed front door.

Though it’s muffled, she recites,

“Without whom I love,

The Lunar, the Celest’l,

The Being I need.”

Was that a Haiku? Priya is talking to who, now? My senses clear more. The breeze against my cheek freshens my mind. The peeling paint highlights the picture window and through it, I see no Priya but I hear another voice, deep and majestic recite,

“But curs’ed the flesh,

Of what has forced us apart,

I miss’ed my Light.”

Words exchange, back and forth. Luminous and lively, Priya. Mysterious and enigmatic, man.

It captivates me and pulls at my heart, like when I watched the Titanic but before Jack froze to death. This is like if Jack never died and woke up next to Rose. A tear forms in the corner of my eye and sure, maybe it’s the breeze or maybe it’s me staring through the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Priya talking to the love of her life, or maybe it’s just the thought of the great love Priya speaks of to this strange man.

Talis pushes me to the front door. He knocks and the door shutters under the force. He shouts, “Write my name down, Rat!” His voice vibrates against my skin and settles deep into my stomach.

“Rat?”

“He has many names. Rat is the one I like. Moon may be the one you are familiar with.”

“Why do you call him that?” I say, turning enough to him to catch a glimpse of his body behind me.

Oh, the caramel drizzle of a voice sings. Siren. She’s at the edge of the woods. I turn my head and the voice disappears.

“Open the door and go inside, now.”

The knob is warm under my palm. Talis nudges me through the doorway. The living room is bathed in gentle sunlight and the smell of coffee and sweet caramel fill the house. It’s empty of Priya and whoever she’s been confessing her love to. But two other voices fill the kitchen, Levon and Tessa’s.

Talis leans in the doorway. He shouts louder, “Name, on the wall, now.”

The voices stop and silverware falls to a plate. I shiver with his voice sending chills down my back. Talis is focused on the kitchen, knuckles white with his grip on the doorframe.

Ah, the Siren again. A step towards it and then a hand against my chest.

Talis says low, “Lyla, turn around.”

Right, right. I nod and turn my back to him and to the sugar-coated voice singing for me from the yard where the shadows start to edge. My head hurts, throbbing as oxygen makes its way through my veins.

“Hey,” Levon says from the kitchen. “Hey, Lyla, are you okay?”

Levon motions for me to come to him. Tessa pops her head around the entryway too.

“You look like friggin’ hell. Both,” she says, “of you.”

Talis is as close to the threshold of the house as he can get. He says through gritted teeth. “Get The Host. Tell him to add my name to the wall or he will live another life as a rat.”

“Cool, cool.” Levon takes a few steps backwards. “Can do.” He holds a finger in the air. “And exactly, who is The Host because I thought this,” he gestures around him, “was The Host.”

“Open the basement door and say my words. The Host will hear.”

Levon opens the basement door with Tessa right behind him. He says, “Hey, Talis needs his name on the wall or else something about rats.” He glances back to me. “His words, not mine.”

Nails click and clack up the stairs and a rip of wallpaper and then the door slams shut. “Door, close, okay?” The mouse creature yells.

Talis takes a step in and shuts the door. He grabs my elbow and takes me to the kitchen. Levon and Tessa sit back down at the table.

“That looks good,” I say. Pizza with extra cheese and peperoni. Tessa rocks her fork back and forth in the pizza and Levon takes a huge bite, string trailing from his lips to the table.

“Move,” Talis says to Tessa.

“Uhm firstly, for them, not I. This chair is mine right now.”

Talis grasps the back of the chair and yanks it back so hard Tessa has to catch herself from falling all the way to the ground.

“Move,” he says again.

She rolls her eyes and takes a seat on Levon’s lap. Talis forces me to sit in the chair. Which honestly, though it was rude of him to kick Tessa out of the chair, I’m pretty dizzy. My head bangs around, my chest is sore, my legs shake too. Chair is good.

A conversation happens around me but all I can focus on is Priya’s voice, somewhere in the house.

“Though wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down…”

Is that Keats? Ode to a Nightingale? That’s exactly what that is. I studied him for my senior English project with Priya helping me and it’s paid off. I now know what poem Priya recites to a strange man lost inside the house. How useful. My attention wanders back to Tessa who’s frustrated.

“Talis,” she says, cutting her pizza. “you can’t just decide to do something so severe without permission from the boss.”

And as the conversation continues, a man’s voice speaks so sweetly to Priya.

“Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in forestland forlorn.”

So familiar, they are. So, so familiar. The voice I mean. And the voice paired with Priya’s. Their words stir within me but I don’t know why and I certainly, as English turns to some other language, do not know why.

“Right, Lyla?” Levon asks.

“Uhm,” I say, completely caught off guard. “Hey, does anyone else hear poems? Like Priya talking to a boyfriend or something? Is she even here yet?”

Levon stares blankly. “How could you miss her neon yellow Mustang in the driveway?”

“Because I-”

Talis interrupts. “It does not matter. What does matter is you must hide. Go to the basement with your Protector.”

“It’s friggin’ Tessa.” She rolls her eyes. “And you know it.”

Talis narrows his eyes and his lips thin into a vicious smile. “Tessa, take Levon to the basement and stay there until the Blue Moon.”

“But the Blue Moon is when our mission is supposed to be done,” Levon says.

“And done it will be but you and Tessa will be accomplishing your part from the basement.”

Tessa pushes her plate away from her and it clatters against Levon’s. “Talis, you have always been so friggin’ dramatic. We aren’t doing that and if you don’t like it, take it to the boss.”

Talis glares, jaw tense, veins in the back of his hands bulge.

But Tessa continues on. “Like, The Host will protect us. If we go to the basement, we’ll be totally relocated and how will we friggin’ know where we are or what part of the seam we’re supposed to work on.” She puts a piece of gum in her mouth and chews it with her mouth open until she forms a bubble. It pops on top of her lips and she peels the gum from them. “You’re only supposed to relocate The Host if it’s an emergency and this is not,” she says, “an emergency.”

“To be fair,” Levon says, “we don’t know if it is or not because Talis hasn’t told us.” He fidgets with the charm he has around his neck again. “Lyla, what–why–just, what do you think, I guess?”

What do I think? I think the poems being recited in the background are so lovely and sweet but it’s annoying at the moment because I can’t concentrate. I think Talis saved my life from Siegrist. And what else do I think? I think something is wrong with Tessa and I think Levon is in some kind of danger and I think the Siren is coming in closer than she ever has before and I think I see the shadows from the tree tops creeping towards the house but I’ve never seen them move in from this side of the yard.

“Listen to Talis, Levon,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going on.” And for a moment, the briefest moment, I swear I hear mom’s voice say, and how fun is it to know you don’t know what’s going on. And Levon squints at the same time I hear her voice, his eyes darting to mine. “But I think we’re not supposed to and Levon, you should go to the basement.” Basements are so wonderful. Where has man made such a perfect replica of a cave? So damp, spidery, and exciting to explore.

Levon’s wide eyes land on mine but Talis and Tessa continue their own quiet argument. Mostly Tessa arguing with Talis countering with one word which is ‘no’.

Levon stands. “Tessa, let’s do that.”

“Sit down,” she says.

The anger in her voice must take him off guard because he does. Her charm on her bracelet dangles and the bird on it reflects light from a source I can’t figure out.

“Tessa, is that bracelet one of those communication ones?” I ask.

“Yeah. Duh. I’d never wear this if I didn’t have to.”

I grab her bracelet and unclasp it. The little bird is barely the size of my thumbnail and the tiniest hinge is on its beak. I open it with my fingernail and a tuft of paper falls out. When I say tuft, I mean literally, if I found it under a couch, I would’ve thought it was a dustball. The paper pulses in my hand. Levon’s attention is as focused as mine, which is rare. I hold the little paper to him and he opens his hand. It drops in and he holds it close to his face. Then he unrolls it. It’s as long as his entire pinky.

“What the heck?” Tessa say. “No wonder that thing never worked. It was literally a friggin’ bracelet.”

Levon rolls it up and visibly swallows. He sniffs and holds his hand out. The bracelet seems to dance as I lower it into his palm and the thought of mom dancing around the kitchen in her yellow sundress sends a twinge of a smile to the corners of my lips, and whatever Levon is remembering, it does the same to him too.

He puts it back in the bracelet. “Tessa, let’s go.”

“What-”

“Just, come on Tessa.” And then Levon’s done something I’ve never seen him do. He stands in front of me and drops his knee to the floor. He bows his head and then he stands. “Love you so much, Sis.” He takes a breath in and gives a nod to Talis. “I’ll be busy while you work. I’ll see you afterwards.”

He kisses my forehead and then opens the basement door. Tessa goes through, confused but she heads down the stairs. The door shuts and I know, I know, Levon will be safe, at least for now.

The goodbye is fleeting as I have to turn towards the kitchen table to silence the Siren. The shadows creep towards the window and fall onto the table.

“Come,” Talis says.

The living room is about to be casted in shade too, shadows start to touch the window over the couch. They climb up the window until it’s fully covered. Talis stands next to me. It’s our breath and the shadows and my impending barrage of questions about what the hell is going on, but that’ll wait until the porch step isn’t creaking outside with either the Siren or the shadows on the outside of the door.

“What, uhm,” I say, quietly, “did you hear those poems earlier? Because I don’t hear them anymore and I don’t think–did you hear them?”

“Yes.”

A finger of a shadow reaches the top of the window. It slips through the pane and drops to the back of the couch. Behind us, the shadows bathe the kitchen floor.

Talis says, “The poems, it was the Sun and the Moon.” He nudges my arm. “Let us take the stairs.”

For a moment, the Siren calls again. She’s so close.

“Is she on the porch?”

We turn our backs to the door and head up the stairs.

“Yes,” he says. “Run.”

Step, step, skip a step, Talis on my heels. In my room and slam the door, and Talis takes my hand.

We stand in front of the mirror and the dresser. Our reflections stare back. Chests rise and fall, catching our breaths. Talis stands so tall next to me. So perfect and here I am. Baggy shirt and jeans unfit to sprint in though I’ve done it twice today. But I’m a college wannabe standing next to an important man.

“So,” I say, “the Sun and the Moon?”

His lips twitch into something that might either be a smile or a grimace, I can’t tell. “You and I are always between the Sun and the Moon. We hear them when they are close to one another. They are now far from us but if you listen, you can hear them still.”

I close my eyes and focus.

“Trust in this traveler’s tips, who knows of many paths’ trips,” Priya’s voice says. It’s distant and faint but still her speaking.

“The dark midnight, dreadful waves, and turbulent whirlpools,” the man’s voice continues the unfamiliar poem.

I open my eyes and their voices drift farther, letting me finally concentrate on the present. My fishbowl words reflect the waning sunlight coming through the window obscured by the shadows creeping to the pane. I grab them, stuff them in my pocket while Talis peruses the dresser.

He opens a drawer. “Your friend, Priya, she is the Sun, tasked to keep you safe until you came of age.” He shuts it and opens another. “Wisdom, Herself, called the Sun and asked her to place her soul inside of a human and the Sun,” the lines around his eyes soften, “she is devoted to you.” Shut, open.

“The Moon, is another story,” he says. Shut, open, shut, open. He smirks. “God, Himself, called the Moon and asked him to place his soul inside a human and be your Host when you came of age and of course, he said no. The Moon, he is, well,” he says, shutting a drawer. “I bound him as the creature he is for this lifetime.”

Talis chuckles. The first time I’ve ever truly heard anything reminiscent of any humor. Woah. He glances to me, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“He is The Host. He is anchored to you, always. He does not exist without you and sometimes he does forget this.”

“Is that why he’s a mouse-creature thing?”

“I did not want him to forget his purpose,” he says.

Another drawer open, but this time he takes out the pouch mom gave me at the airport.

“But he is a finicky thing.” Talis taps the pouch against his hand. “Every Leaver and Protector has a host to stay safe when they need to seek shelter but the Moon is the Original Host and he will always be tethered to you to protect your safety.” He tosses the pouch in the air and catches it. “Whether he likes it or not.” Talis tucks the pouch inside the fur and holds his hand for me to take.

The mirror mesmerizes me. Is it my name I hear calling to me? The reflection blinks but I certainly don’t. Talis worried gaze lands on mine. “Don’t look at yourself.” Then he taps the frame of the mirror.

“Why don’t I recognize you?” I ask.

The amusement on his face drains. He takes my hand and says, “What do you see?”

“Every color I know and every color I don’t know.”

He squeezes my hand, a soft smile on his lips. “Time to move on. The Host has left and it is time for us to leave to,” he says. “The house is now only a house and the evils know it.”

Talis steps one foot through the mirror and pulls me along.

I take a step over the frame and then another. The mirror is behind us. And where we are? I don’t recognize. Somewhere magnificent, where mountains are green and lush and on one side of us is the ocean, far below. A winding road hugs the mountainside. The ground under my feet is a well-worn dirt path and to the other side of us are pine treetops lining a steep slope and the mirror, it’s in front of us, blocking the path to wherever it leads into a mountaintop-tree-lined path.

“You are every color you know,” he says, “and I am every color you do not know.”

I take in his words while I watch my room in the mirror. Shadows creep from under the doorway and through the windowsill. They smother my bed, darkening the quilt and ripping the seams from it. My fishbowl words shred in the air. And then the shadows inch towards us while the doorknob rattles and something kicks at the wood, the door splintering at the bottom. The shadows come closer. Closer and closer. And right as the door bursts open, right as the shadows nearly touch the frame of the mirror, Talis hits it, pieces shattering and collapsing at our feet.

“What do we do now?” I ask.

With Priya and the Moon’s rhythmic love ode, a simple and quiet background noise in the back of my mind, I realize the yellow door calling me home might just be next to me. But without a home, without The Host, I’m not sure what we’ll do tonight when the sun sets and the moon rises. But maybe Talis and I will be safe in between them.

“We go,” he says, in cadence to the lovers’ haiku, “to the Sewing Tree.”