Crimson Moon

by J. A. Saare

  "Never apologize for your feelings.” His hand touched my shoulder gently. “Our emotions define who we are."

  I wanted to speak up, to tell him emotions also leave you devoid, empty, and broken. I learned that painful truth first hand. But I didn't tell him the inner ramblings of my mind. He had sacrificed so much to save my Mother, and his indelible love for her gave me hope.

  "Thanks, Dad.” I looked up and smiled, meeting his bright and warm dove grey eyes.

  "I'll tell your Mother you're awake.” He returned my smile and exited the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

  The concrete slab nearly crushed my feet before Trent yanked me out of the way. It fell heavily into the grass, leaving an impressive imprint. I'd foolishly asked him if we could do some energy exercises, but my mind was too frazzled. Manipulating objects required the utmost concentration.

  Something I was undeniably lacking.

  "I'm sorry,” I apologized, quite possibly for the millionth time in the day. It was embarrassing.

  "Don't ask me to help you if you're not going focus,” he reprimanded me softly, standing straight.

  "I said I was sorry, okay?” I walked past him to the manor. The clouds were lush and dark. The rain would fall heavy and fast shortly. “It's just a crappy day today."

  "I know, Emma, believe me.” He shook his head in concurrence, adding, “I wish you wouldn't do this to yourself."

  I didn't respond, quickening my pace to the back entryway. I pulled the door open in a swift yank, stepping inside and stomping toward the kitchen. A few of the servants scattered out of the way and I excused myself as I passed, determined to get my soda and drink it in peace.

  I pulled open the stainless steel refrigerator door and squatted down to grab my Coke, slamming the door shut behind me.

  "If you want to talk,” Trent offered, “I'll listen."

  "You listen already,” I snapped, shaking my head. “You're always listening."

  "You know what I mean,” he said, jaw clenching.

  "Yeah, I do.” I breathed in deeply, anger receding. “Yesterday finally caught up with me. I'm doing my best to keep my head above water. I wasn't afraid before, but I am now."

  "Don't be afraid.” His hand touched my arm, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

  "If you and Dad weren't so freaked, it would be a whole lot easier.” They'd been tense from the minute we'd left London. It was impossible not to be frightened.

  "We're not freaked, we're being precautious. Decimus is powerful, it's true. But he cannot break our laws for his own personal gain. If he did, the enforcer would come for him. We are each subject to the same punishments."

  His mouth narrowed into a thin line.

  "But he's intrigued with you, and it's his interest that concerns us. He can try to bargain with Blace, especially since you're still mortal. Until you formally take the blood of the DeViard family and give fealty, there is a small hole he can try to maneuver. We're going to do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen. We will keep you safe, Emma."

  "That's why Blace is coming?” I opened the can and shook my head. “To discuss all of this?"

  "Yes. He stayed after the ascension, so he has a better understanding of what we're dealing with. If Decimus made any kind of offer, Blace will know.” Trent's brilliant aqua eyes shifted from me to the kitchen, glaring at someone until they hurriedly left the room, then he continued, “Blace is hard, ruthless, and calculating. He has accepted you into our fold and is bound to protect you as one of us."

  "This just keeps getting better and better,” I mumbled, bringing the red can to my lips.

  Trent pulled the soda from my fingers, placing it on the counter. His arms wound around my waist and hauled me into his body. I didn't refuse the gesture of comfort, sighing and pressing my head against his chest. The steady beating of his heart sounded rhythmically against my ear, alive even as he was technically not.

  "I will not let anything happen to you, Emma. I swear it. No matter what happens. I will never let him take you."

  Blace arrived after the final beams of sunlight vanished from the sky. He was more intimidating the second time around, eyes wary and cautious. His clothes were fitted and emphasized his trim and muscled physique. Thick sandy blond hair fell freely around his shoulders, no longer restrained by any kind of string or strip of leather.

  We gathered in Dad's private office where the walls were sound proofed. Pictures of me—ranging from infancy through high school—shrouded the walls and desk. There were also pictures of Mom, as well as the two of them together prior to his change.

  Three sturdy leather chairs sat across from the imposing desk situated near the wall. I took a seat on the left, keeping my Mother between Blace and myself. My Father stood behind his chair, strong hands braced along the back as Trent remained near the door.

  "Thank you for coming.” Dad lowered his head in deference. “We appreciate your prompt attentiveness to this matter."

  "We have a problem.” Blace cut straight to the issue at hand, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Cattarina was only able to grasp a few of the random thoughts inside Decimus's mind during the uproar, but she easily sensed that he will not allow this to pass as we hoped. He wants her, Luca, and I'm not sure what we can do to intervene."

  "But she's tied to our house.” My Father sounded confused and angry. “He cannot change what has been set into motion."

  Blace's voice dropped several octaves, becoming somber as he lowered his head. “He intends to invoke Absolutum Dominium, as is his right as Prince."

  My Father's eyes widened in disbelief and his mouth opened and closed in shock. “How can he? Absolutum Dominium isn't allowed unless there is danger to eliminate the Prince or the royal house. My Emmaline poses no threat!"

  "What is Absolutum Dominium?” I thought, knowing Trent would be listening.

  "Absolutum Dominium is total power of sovereignty. He intends to challenge the one person with supreme control to your future—Luca."

  "Challenge?" Fear seeped inside my chest.

  "He won't kill your Father. But he can make him suffer."

  Trent severed the mental contact.

  "Catt sensed Decimus's intrigue and interest, but along with it came a deep-seated fear. He came into power because of what he can do. Another necromancer with his ability could overthrow everything he has laid so carefully into place. You have some decisions to make, and they won't be pleasant. I'm afraid this has been completely removed from my hands.” Blace's voice was heavy, regret apparent.

  "How long do we have?” Dad asked. He pushed away from the chair and folded his arms, preparing himself.

  "Decimus sent word as I was in flight. He's not wasting any time. He expects all the house leaders to meet here at your home, tomorrow at dusk."

  "Tomorrow,” Trent gasped in disbelief, appalled.

  Blace nodded somberly. “You have tough choices ahead. I'll be staying as my presence is required as the head of our family. If I can help in any way, I will. But currently, there isn't anything any of us can do. It's between the two of you now."

  "Can't we just send her away? Hide her somewhere safe?” Mom was panicked, fear overtaking her normally reasonable composure. Her dark brown eyes were brimming with pink tears. The wavy hair cascading around her shoulders giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll.

  "He's tasted her blood,” Blace stated matter-of-factly. “He'd find her in time. No matter where you decided to take her. It is another extension of his gift."

  My Mother erupted into soft sobs beside me and I slipped out of the chair, resting on my knees. Pink streamed down her cheeks, eyes wet and huge. I clasped her hand in my own, trying to comfort her.

  But who will comfort me? Right now I was too numb to feel anything.

  "What will happen when they come here?” I peered past the desk, eyes going to my Father. He appeared as upset as my Mother, barely maintaining composure. His hands were clenched into tight fists
at his sides, his face tense, livid, and...devastated.

  "We will discuss the matter at hand and try to end this amicably with words. If an agreement cannot be met, the Prince and I will duel. If I win, he will leave you in my care. If he wins, you will join the royal house.” His voice was eerily soft and quiet.

  "What does it mean if I have to go with him to the royal house?” No one spoke, silence stretching and creating a huge elephant in the room. “I have the right to know!"

  "It means you will have to leave this place and we don't know what will happen. Many of those who reside with the royal house are rarely seen. Their talents are unique and used for the most private of affairs. I do not tell you because I have no wish to. The truth is, I do not know."

  Dad slumped into his chair, body collapsing against the leather as trembling hands rose to cover his face.

  I brought my fingers to the wooden frame, studying the smiling faces just inside. Sammie was so young, before her transformation to wolf. Beverly and Chris stood on either side of her, Caleb next to his mother. I couldn't force myself to return the photo along with the letter I sent. I wanted something to remember him by. But it wasn't until today that I reached inside the cast off duffel to retrieve it.

  I knew the instant Trent entered the bedroom. He'd been in my mind enough that we shared a sixth sense with one another. He moved like a silent cat to the wall where he leaned back, observing me.

  I stared blindly past the frame. His entire body was covered in black, the only colors radiating from his teal eyes and white blond hair. Normally, I kept thoughts of Caleb in the back of my mind, pulling them out when Trent wasn't around. But now, it didn't seem to matter.

  "I always knew,” he whispered, smiling sadly.

  "I thought you did.” I peered down at the frame. “It's so ironic,” I spoke bitterly, exhaling in frustration. “He thought I'd be safer here. That night, before I left, he told me he'd rather let me go and know I was safe and happy than to have me stay and something bad happen. And to know all along it didn't matter."

  "He was stronger than I would have been,” Trent admitted, keeping his face averted. “I wouldn't have been able to watch you walk away."

  I nodded, not in agreement, but because it didn't matter. My Father couldn't overcome the Prince. They didn't have to say it inside the office. I could see it clearly in their body language and faces.

  Decimus's power was absolute over the others. Truebloods were terrified of him, and because of that, he was allowed to reign as he deemed fit. They all functioned under the false pretense that by gathering together, with the heads of the houses present, they were protected in a safety net. The truth was, they were never safe. Decimus always had the ace in the hole. He just didn't abuse it enough for anyone to complain.

  "I don't want this.” My voice broke as I crumbled. A false front was something else I didn't care to erect any longer. “I don't want someone controlling me like a puppet."

  Trent's strong arms lifted me and he settled us together against the wall, resting with my body cradled to his chest. I turned into his comforting embrace, allowing my fear and anger, loss and despair, to bleed into his shirt. My tears had been held in too long and now the dam burst wide, raining down unmeasured. My body racked with sobs I didn't attempt to contain.

  He held me close, his hand gentle as he rubbed my back. He knew as well as I did that tomorrow was the end of all of our hopes and dreams.

  As my tears ebbed and I could see clearly once more, I lifted the picture back into view. My eyes remained on one person. I remembered the warm brush of his breath against my skin, his strong hands that were so careful with me, and those deep blue eyes.

  I should have listened to my Mother and gotten on that plane. I should have forced him to listen to me, demanding a resolution we both could live with. I never should have allowed him to dictate how things were going to be in my own life. Things could have been so different if I'd swallowed that inner demon called pride. I falsely hoped that one day our paths would intersect—after all, I had an eternity. But I knew with all certainty that day would never come, which shattered my heart all over again.

  "Don't give up hope.” Trent's words were strained against my hair.

  He started humming, a soothing melody, rocking back and forth.

  I stared at the picture, soft lyrical notes drowning out my sobs, trying to make myself let go—for the last time.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 24—Challenge

  I woke to the sound of the rocker gliding back and forth, hinges slipping together quietly. I cracked open my eyes, observing the dawn breaking through the overcast clouds outside the window.

  My Mother gazed longingly at the last stars before they vanished into the morning sun. Her profile was striking, framed from where I lay against the clear glass panels. Her long hair flowed freely around her shoulders and reflective face. She turned to look over her shoulder, smiling when she met my sleep filled eyes.

  "Good morning.” I sat up as I greeted her and pushed away the feather duvet. The cold ate away the heat from the blankets and I excused myself to change inside the closet.

  I slipped a black cashmere turtleneck over my head and stepped into a pair of my favorite jeans. Then I put on my socks and shoes. It was too cold to prance around with bare feet. I quickly ran the brush through my hair and returned to my bedroom.

  "I had Mathilda prepare blueberry waffles for you,” Mom said as she rose from the rocker, gliding toward me. She reached for the turtleneck, adjusting the collar.

  "Thanks, Mom.” I smiled anxiously, following her as she went out the door, toward the dining room.

  The mood in the house was solemn, the few servants scattered about refusing to make eye contact. Most of them knew what we were, a few working with the direct hope of being rewarded with immortality. They had to have some knowledge something was amiss, our quietness making it unmistakable.

  I ate my food without tasting, each bite mechanical and automatic. Everything was fake and artificial as I pretended it was a day like any other. Mom sat quietly beside me, no pretty words between us to cushion the inevitable. Her porcelain face was beautiful even in her pain.

  I finished and asked to be excused. I desperately needed time alone.

  I chose to visit the grassy hill far behind the house, glimpsing the ocean in the distance. I envisioned myself somewhere far away from the madness waiting to unfold. It was cold, and the wind bit through my turtleneck as if my skin were bare. I was numb to it, each step I took lessening the sting. My hair tangled around my face and shoulders, and I allowed it. Waves of hair blocked my vision before sweeping away, allowing me to see once more.

  I could never have imagined all of the amazing and unfathomable things that happened to me in the last few months, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to regret any of the occurrences or heartaches wrought because of them.

  I could have been assured a normal, monotonous, and potentially happy life in ignorance. I could have existed just as everyone else did, thriving in conventional normalcy, living out each and every day in exactly the same manner.

  Yet, I would have existed in the dark, unaware of all the special talents and creatures that surrounded me. My mind would have remained blissfully blind and eternally sightless. And I would have missed out on the most important and pure of emotions—that indescribable elation that only flourishes when someone experiences first love, as well as the absolute devastation that follows upon losing it forever.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in the crisp and biting air, bringing it deep into my lungs, holding my breath until it burned.

  No, I had regrets, but not of unlocking the truth about myself and those around me. I couldn't turn my back on the people or things I knew so well, even knowing the eccentricities involved, even as it led me down a path not of my own choosing.

  I exhaled into the breeze, releasing a part of myself into the sky. Then, I remained on the grassy
knoll as the breeze cut through the numbness permeating my skin, chilling me to the bone, aware my time had finally run out.

  "Where's Trent,” I asked Keith as I walked into the manor, passing through the kitchen.

  "Master Trent is on an errand for Master Luca,” Keith answered quietly, refusing to meet my eyes. I knew with all certainty that he was aware of what was taking place, having made preparations for our guests personally.

  "Thanks.” I smiled half-heartedly and went in search of my Father.

  He wasn't in his office or the study. I tried upstairs, checking the large kitchen and library—all without success. I snatched my jacket from the closet and hit the grounds in search of him, noting Mom was missing too.

  I went out the front, down the old concrete rock stairs and past the fountain. I turned right, walking around the front of the property. The grass had grown, even in overcast weather it was the most glorious green, as soft as goose feathers.

  They weren't at the side of the house and I deliberated returning inside when I came around the back. I saw them, their distant figures on the hill like miniature statues. They stood together, holding hands, side by side. The gusts ruffled their clothes, Mom's skirt billowing around her legs.

  I trudged over the damp grass caused by yesterday's rain, approaching slowly, extending their time alone for as long as I could.

  As selfish as it made me, I wanted to be near the two of them. I didn't want to be alone.

  They continued staring into the distance as I neared. I joined them, watching the wind scatter the grass in different directions as the clouds rotated and shifted in the sky.

  The afternoon came quickly, revealing the absolute truth of time. Things sped up when you wanted them to slow down and vice versa. Everything was in place, all of the servants instructed to leave the property for the evening, something that had never occurred.

  I didn't bother changing my clothes. The only difference in my appearance came courtesy of my disheveled hair, which was wrapped into a messy wind induced pony tail. I washed my face, staring at myself in the mirror with water dripping down my chin.