The hawk banked sharply to the right, leading her out of the neighborhood and onto another business street. This one looked like the disheveled older sibling of Dorchester Avenue. Slicing between decrepit buildings tattooed with garish neon signs and burning orange sigils, Georgia Street angled away from the residential area of Barr’s Ferry and sloped down toward the river that separated the small town from a much larger Tenebrae-controlled city.
Even during the day, people avoided Georgia Street. Not all fiends were restricted to the night, as Sister Evangeline said. In the wake of the Nightfall, some people had thrown their lot in with the Tenebrae. Without magic, they were servants to the dark witches, but some felt that being on the wrong side was worth the relative safety of not opposing them. In Barr’s Ferry, many of them frequented Georgia Street.
Novices were strictly forbidden to venture here on excursions into town. Jenae, one of the senior girls, had come down here during the day a few months ago. When one of her younger roommates told on her, she’d gotten busted. Claire didn’t know what had transpired, but the normally haughty Jenae had emerged from Sister Helen’s office with puffy eyes and hunched shoulders. She spent a week in the south wing and cleaned bathrooms for a month.
As the rainbow of neon beckoned, Claire instinctively slowed down. The hawk hovered overhead. Oh, come on. She frowned at the bird, trying to will it to keep flying somewhere that wasn’t Georgia Street.
She paused, feeling terribly exposed standing in the middle of the street with a ring of wisps lighting her. Tucking herself tight to one of the buildings, Claire sent the wisps into the eaves to hide their light from prying eyes.
Finally, the hawk swooped down from its hovering position, gliding down a side street instead of deeper into the foreboding glow of Georgia Street.
“Oh, thank God,” she murmured. With the wisps trailing her, she climbed onto the bike and followed the familiar down the side street.
A sharp cry broke through the quiet as she emerged from the narrow street onto another broad road that ran parallel to Georgia Street. Apprehension knotted in her belly. The cry elongated into a snuffling cry. “Mommy,” it wailed. It was a little girl’s voice.
Not again.
A cascade of bright colors flashed through her mind again from the familiar. Claire frowned, slowing in the street. The crying was louder here. To her left was a park, neglected and overgrown. After hearing the unseen creatures calling her name before, she hesitated. The sisters had always taught them not to trust everything they saw and heard. The creatures of the night were devious and manipulative.
But what if…?
It was easier to figure out the thing calling her name wasn’t Shayla. This hadn’t given her any sign yet. This could be another demon, or it could be a lost girl just like Will.
“Mommy, where are you?” the voice wailed.
It sounded human. She had no way to tell for sure. Claire paused in the park’s wide gravel driveway, leaning on one side to balance the bike. With one hand, she took a dagger from her coat for reassurance.
“Help me,” the voice cried. “Help!” She dissolved into tears and mumbling cries.
Claire swung her leg over the bike, glancing up for the hawk’s guidance. It circled slowly overhead. Was Will’s mother here? Or was the hawk waiting for Claire to catch up? It would have been really helpful to communicate in English instead of weird flashes of color.
She followed the sound of the cries, keeping her steps light and quiet. The park was small, with an amphitheater at the bottom of a gently sloping basin. Arcs of cracked concrete benches surrounded the amphitheater. Some of the seats were overgrown in tangled weeds.
Several rows down, a small figure sat on one of the benches, hunched and shaking slightly. A wrinkled sundress left her thin arms bare, streaked with dirt. Messy, dark hair hung over her face. “Mama,” the girl cried. “Where are you?”
At those words, Claire was plunged into a vivid memory. Just days after the Lumina took her from her mother, she’d sat in an unfamiliar room on a bed that smelled like other people’s sweat and cried for her mother. Over and over, she’d said, “Mommy, where are you?” It took a few weeks for her to let go of the hope that her mother was coming for her.
Her heart thumped as she approached. The girl was small. She could carry her like she had Will. If she was human.
Claire tightened her grip on her dagger, padding silently through the grass.
“Hey,” Claire said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Did you lose your mommy?”
The girl turned slowly. The dark hair shifted away from her face, revealing a tear-streaked, alabaster pale face. Her wide blue eyes brimmed with tears as she nodded slowly. “Will you help me?”
Claire returned the nod, extending her hand. Before she could grasp the little girl’s pale hand, a streak of pure flame dove between them, searing her outstretched fingers. Pure red overwhelmed Claire’s vision for a moment. A sharp pain twanged in the back of her head as the hawk familiar batted the little girl with its wings. Through the flood of red and orange in her mind, she saw a terrible, snarling face with horns curling away from its brow.
As the red veil cleared from her vision, Claire watched the little girl’s hand shift. The pale skin peeled away from her thin fingers, revealing obsidian-scaled appendages that were far too big for the thin wrist. The sweet face split apart as the girl snarled, her light blue eyes shifting into something inhuman. Horror washed over Claire as she recoiled from the slitted, reptilian gaze.
They stood in near darkness. A quick glance upward revealed that her wisps were gone, snuffed out by the dark presence. There was only the silver veil of moonlight, granting just enough light to see right in front of herself.
Like it was nothing but a pesky garment, the thing inside the girl’s skin shrugged off the illusion and pulled itself up to its full height. Claire’s muscles froze. For a moment she was afraid she was going to soil herself. She’d never seen anything like this. The demon was as tall as she, with a humanoid frame and smooth onyx horns coiling away from its dark gray face.
She dropped back into a fighting stance and swiped at it with her dagger. The demon parried the blow easily, then planted its other hand in the center of her chest. Biting cold radiated from its touch. It shoved her, sending her hurtling through the air. She crashed into a bench, and white flashed across her vision as the cold gripped her heart. The sheer power of the monster left her frozen in fear.
The demon uttered something harsh and stilted in a language she didn’t know. It hurt her ears, as if someone was screaming directly into her ear. Howls erupted around them. Feet pounded against grass, broken by snarls and growls. Broken from her stupor, Claire scrambled to her feet, backing away from the demon. Something heavy slammed into her back, pitching her forward. Catching at her shoulders, claws raked down her back. They tore through the coat, pulling hard enough at her shirt to choke, but didn’t break the skin. She rolled away, fumbling at her waist for the coil of golden cord.
Directly in front of her stood a trio of hunger-hounds, each the size of a large dog. Ragged spines poked out of the matted black fur cloaking their huge bodies. Their eyes glowed angry red. Foaming spittle dripped from their fanged mouths as they converged on her.
The hound in the center leaped at her. She kicked out and landed a direct hit to its snout. Yelping in pain, it recoiled. The second leaped at her from the side, sinking its teeth into her outstretched leg. Pain lanced up her leg as it bore down, burying its sharp teeth in her calf and shaking. She kicked it with her other leg, and it ripped away.
“Alight and protect me,” she murmured. The golden cord flared with heat in her hand. She shook it out and grasped it with both hands. When she snapped it taut, the rope twanged and sent out a crescent of sunlight. The hounds snarled, backing away from the glowing beam. The temporary respite gave her a moment to get to her feet and survey the situation. The demon was still near the bench where they’d started. Three hounds surroun
ded her.
Maybe she wasn’t as strong as a fully initiated sister, but she had power. It was why they’d taken her away from her family, and why she’d been stuck with them for years. They weren’t going to take her down so easily.
Squeezing the cord tight in her right hand, Claire sent a forceful command down into it. The pliable cord stiffened, forming a slender staff in her hand. She traced a rune of power in the air with her left hand, then slammed the end of staff into the earth. The ground rumbled beneath her feet. A sphere of sunlight exploded into existence, sending the hounds snarling away.
She took a step forward and nearly lost her balance as the pain in her leg seared. Something wasn’t right. It hurt way more than a simple bite should have.
No time for that now. Just a few months ago, she’d run a three-mile race against some of the other girls and tripped on the edge of the track, but she’d forced herself through the intense pain. After winning the race, she’d taken off her shoe to find her two small toes black from bruising. Sister Timani had concluded they were badly broken, marveling that Claire had managed to finish the race at all, let alone win. If the stakes were right, she could tolerate a little pain.
Gritting her teeth, Claire planted her feet and stepped out of the dome of sunlight to swing at the closest hound. Leaving streaks of light, the staff slammed into the creature’s matted hide and sank in with a burning hiss. With smoke curling away from its singed flank, the hound snarled and retreated. She heard a warning growl and darted back into the protection of the sunlight as one of the hounds lunged. It landed with one filthy foot inside the ring of light, leaping back and snarling as the light sizzled its dark flesh.
She smiled, proud of her tactics. No sooner had she congratulated herself on her quick thinking than everything began to fall apart. A splotch of black smeared against the golden dome, spreading like spiderweb cracks in glass. The demon’s guttural voice came to her, the foreign sound scratching against her eardrums. His voice rose, punctuating long phrases. With each emphasized word, pain stabbed into her brain and the cracks in her sphere spread.
Instead of trying to recast the sphere, she stepped out and faced the remaining two hounds. The one she’d already struck was nowhere to be seen. She swung at the one to her right, but it darted out of the way. As she turned to check the other’s position, the first one latched onto her right arm, sinking its teeth in. Still holding the staff with her left hand, she swung it around and swung it like a bat. The staff sank into its hide like a hot knife into butter. The hound yelped, a terrible piercing sound, and released her arm to run away. As she whirled to attack the third hound, the fiery light of the staff reflected in its eyes, and it tucked tail to retreat.
Still holding the staff in a defensive position, Claire turned to face the demon. It still stood next to the bench, apparently unperturbed by the hounds’ retreat. Slowly, it clapped scaly hands together. “Very impressive, Claire,” the demon said in the small, little-girl voice it had used to lure her in. The high, clear voice emerging from that hulking, scaled form was revolting. “I rather like you. See you soon, sweetheart.” The scaly form evaporated. A huge black bird materialized, then disappeared into the dark night.
Claire sank back into the slowly cracking remains of her light sphere, kneeling in the dried grass. Tears welled in her eyes at the sheer overwhelm of the situation. Part of her wanted to lay down and go to sleep right where she was.
“Come on,” she told herself. She’d come this far. She could find Shayla. She and this damn bird were going to see this through. Using the staff to prop herself up, she craned her neck to find the burning beacon. The sky was dark all around. There was no sign of the familiar.
She held up her arm again. Blood from the hound’s bite trickled down her arm and toward her shoulder. Wincing, she said, “Vola accipiter.”
Nothing.
With horror gripping her, she pushed up her sleeve. A mangled crescent of tooth marks surrounded the meaty part of her forearm. She swiped away the blood masking the mark, but there was no mark hiding there. All that remained of Lawrence’s gift was a sooty stain.
She was on her own now.
Chapter Five
-six hours and twenty-eight minutes until sunrise-
Without the hawk’s guiding light, the night was deeper and darker than ever. Claire stood still, rooted to the ground as she surveyed the sky in vain. “Vola accipiter,” she said again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately. When nothing happened, she repeated it, slower and louder, as if that would make a difference. Still no response.
Standing out in the open left her exposed and vulnerable. She released the tension on the cord, willing it to go loose once more. A small burst of magic flowed through the cord, and it wrapped itself back into a neat loop around her fist.
What now?
A few yards from back row of the amphitheater seating was a small glass-walled building. Inside anywhere was better than standing out here.
As she took her first steps toward the building, her leg ached, threatening to buckle under her. Each step was a fresh flare of pain through her calf. Gritting her teeth, she ran for the building and grabbed the door. It was locked, with the bright yellow paper that conveniently reminded her of sunset times. A second sign beneath it read:
Chatfield Memorial Park closes daily one hour prior to sunset. All facilities are locked for the safety of our patrons and community. In case of emergency, please proceed to Shelter Alpha-Blue on Anderson Way. Thank you for your understanding.
Claire was tempted to put her foot through the glass. The safety of the community included her, and she was far from safe. Instead, she squeezed into the small dome of light from the building’s exterior lights and twisted to examine her leg. The capri pants left her calves exposed. Stupid choice, she scolded herself. Then again, she hadn’t expected a scuffle with hunger hounds. A perforated crescent marked the upper part of her shin and the back of her calf, with long gashes that intersected where the hound had jerked its jaws away. Blood covered her leg from the calf down like a crimson stocking. That was fairly gross, but she was much more concerned by the dark gray veins radiating away from the wounds, like the blood vessels were filling with dark sludge. She wasn’t sure if it was just a queasy sensation from staring at a messy wound, or if her blood was going cold. Were hunger-hounds poisonous?
Not that it mattered.
She didn’t have any first aid, and only had a couple pairs of underwear and two shirts that she wasn’t ready to sacrifice in the name of bandages. Knowing whether or not they were poisonous wouldn’t change her situation.
The more pressing issue was what she was going to do next. Without the familiar, she didn’t have much chance of finding Shayla alone. Not only that, her victory over the hunger-hounds was a dubious one. Sitting here in the tiny pool of light with a bloodied leg and arm, she had to accept reality. Maybe she could have killed a lone hound, but certainly not a pack of them if they returned for a second attack. And she wasn’t kidding herself about the demon, either. It had been more amused with her than anything.
Maybe Lawrence was right. Maybe she would be wise to just hunker down in a shelter for the rest of the night. A bed—even an uncomfortable cot with musty blankets—sounded pretty good right now. The safety of an enclosed space with lights sounded even better. A shelter would have first aid and someone who could treat the bites. The Alpha-Blue shelter on Anderson Way wasn’t far from here. She could at least tell them the direction she’d been heading before the hawk disappeared. The Lumina overseeing Alpha-Blue could radio their patrols and maybe change their route to head that way to watch for Shayla.
Setting her jaw in determination, Claire lurched to her feet. Sweeping her hand around, she summoned the sun-wisps for light. As the familiar sense of warmth rolled up her spine, the muscles in her forearm and calf seized, cramping painfully. Two wisps sputtered into existence, their light dim and flickering. She frowned. What had the hounds done to her?
&nbs
p; “Illumina,” she whispered, putting all her force into the word to give some extra oomph to the spell. Her leg buckled as phantom teeth sank into her leg once more. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought there was another hound chewing on her leg. Clenching her jaw to tune out the pain, she forced the light out. Her two existing wisps brightened as two more joined them. Their light was still dimmer than she would have liked, but it was steady. Her grim satisfaction overlaid a growing sense of dread. She’d been able to call the wisps as easily as breathing since before she could read. Something was very wrong.
With the tiny lights bobbing around her in a protective circle, Claire limped back to the entrance to the park, where her bicycle still lay on its side. No more distractions. She was going to the shelter. This was idiocy.
Hitching her leg over the bike, she lurched into motion. The movement hurt, but she was able to tune it out to maintain her focus.
After a few minutes of riding, she saw a blue sign mounted beneath a stop sign. A white arrow pointed down the street, with block letters beneath reading Shelter this way. She was close.
Something tickled the back of Claire’s neck, like an insect crawling into her hairline. She recoiled, jerking her head away from the sensation. She slapped at the empty space behind her, then rubbed the back of her neck, but there was nothing there. “Poison in your leg now,” a dry voice whispered. “Have to cut it off.”
Unbidden, she was granted a grotesque, vivid image of her own leg cut off at the knee, spurting massive gouts of blood onto a stark white sheet. Horror washed over her.
“And your arm. Have to learn to write with your left hand,” the voice crooned. Another horrifying image blasted through her mind.
Moonlight Rising Page 14
