Big Bad Moon – Joe Satriani is this chapter's song.
You can read the chapter. Or you can put this song on, crank it up and imagine Her walking towards where the battle's gonna be. )
His eyes opened. The sunbeam that marked the passing of the hours was dim, at a low angle. The hairs on Her's skin rose, and a faint glow began to collect around them. It was electric, shivery, a little strange.
He smiled.
Climbing out of the window and onto the roof, he stretched. It felt good. The moon was a handswidth above the horizon, looming large. Potent. The sun still stole its glory, the sky still deepening blue, the last gold reflections tinting windows blinding bright. But the moon was there, and a force to be reckoned with.
As was Her. He stood, arms outspread, gathering in the light to himself. Needing it all. Waiting for his strength to become sublime.
An electronic billboard on a roof opposite caught his eye. The ad that had been showing faded out to a live camera feed with the Ladyblog watermark. It showed a city square, with trees, a fountain, a subway entrance. He didn't recognise it at first – Paris had a few such squares – but then in-screen text appeared naming it as Place Des Abbesses.
He suddenly realised that the lone figure sitting on a bench wasn't just in leaf-dappled shadow, but in spots.
The moon hung bold, bad, like a blessing on his mood. It beckoned.
He walked down through the air, and down the empty street. The moonlight seemed to follow him, lapping at his feet, splashing against walls in white silence.
Silence. Why were the streets so quiet? They should have been full of people, rushing home, rushing from work, rushing to buy food or to meet lovers or to chase dreams. Everywhere he looked, doors were closed, windows blind. Where were all the people he could show the truth to in the moonlight? Hiding? He laughed. There was nowhere to hide.
He reached into the magic, into the moonlight, and pulled. Further down the street, a door opened. Someone came racing out towards him. They looked vaguely familiar.
"I'm so glad to see you!" they called. "We didn't know where to look for you, so we've been watching and hoping. Let me text the others." They fell into step behind him, texting as they walked. Smiling.
Her didn't know them by name. But the look on their face said that they'd danced with him the night before.
And that they needed to feel the moonlight again.
The ripples went out by text, passing from phone to phone, pocket to pocket. Most of Paris stayed indoors, where the moonlight couldn't touch them, following the advice given by Ladybug and the police during the day. But those who'd danced, who'd felt the gift he gave...
...they grabbed each other's hands, running for the door even as friends or family tried to hold them back from the calling moon.
And they came.
They fell into a group around and behind Her, slowly trickling from wherever they'd come to join those that made them whole again. Together Her and his crowd walked to the Place des Abbesses, never hurrying, inevitable. Destiny awaited.