Moon Struck

by Ben Alderson

  I gasp and meet the gaze of her attacker.

  He smiles and says, “You’re next.”

  Realization strikes me then. He’s given me several days to cooperate, but the moment he realized I will not answer his questions was the moment I sealed my fate. In this moment, I decide Will’s offering will not be in vain.

  With our gazes locked, I bring forth the little bit of strength Will granted me by offering me a taste of his blood. Ignoring my need to recover from my countless torture sessions, I focus everything I have into compelling this man.

  “Stop,” I say when we lock gazes.

  The man stops abruptly. I sense his fear, his shock. He furrows his eyebrows as he struggles to understand what is happening to him. I bet he never imagined I would still have this kind of power. After all, I haven’t fed in days. Or so he believes…

  “Do not speak,” I say when he opens his mouth. “Release her.”

  Her legs fall to the ground in a heap.

  “Remove the knife,” I say, even though I know it is too late for her. I wish I could have saved her, but I know I can save the others from knowing the torment this man enjoys inflicting.

  He withdraws the weapon.

  “Plunge it into your chest,” I order.

  A smile crosses my face as he turns the blade inward. Just as he brings his arms out and begins the blade’s descent, a screeching alarm sounds. I fall to my knees, covering my ears with both hands and crying out, “Stop!”

  Tears in my eyes from straining myself to block out the noise, I see the executioner, arms before him, a knife inches from his chest. He’s frozen in time, waiting for my order. I hadn’t meant for my shriek to save him.

  In the distance, I hear dozens of stomping feet. The hunters are assembling.

  Something is wrong.

  The alarms, the chaos, this is my chance.

  “Open this door,” I order.

  He drops the knife and walks over to my cage. The clicking of the door unlocking is music to my ears. Never in my life have I been this happy.

  I stand and thank him. I mean it too, even though I allow only seconds to pass before I’m standing in front of him, fingers wrapped firmly around his neck as I pull him toward me. I sink my fangs into his flesh. We sway, back and forth, timed with his screams. I didn’t grant him the mercy of compelling the pain away, so he will feel every moment of his life escaping him and entering me.

  I feel him shrivel beneath my grasp, but I do not release him until every drop of his offering has entered my eager belly. I smile as I step over his corpse and, licking my lips, stare into the angry eyes of a half-dozen hunters.

  George

  The heavy beat of music vibrates up my legs from the sticky floor of the club. Each step seems to rattle my bones, but I cannot blame all of my shaking on the music. I shake viciously because of the countless crimson eyes that feast on me from every shadow within this room.

  Chad pulls me close, his arm never leaving my waist. His fingers gently dig into my stomach muscle as he leans his head down and whispers into my ear.

  “Drink?”

  I can hardly find the courage to nod in agreement, but perhaps a drink would help give me the strength I need to deal with what is to come.

  Chad guides me to the main bar, never once releasing me from his grasp. The vampires surrounding us are dressed in form fitting leather. The bartender spins bottles and pours ruby-colored liquids into crystal glasses. One vampire in particular catches my eye, and I tense as she wades through the smoky room toward us.

  “What will it be?” she purrs. Her red-painted nails run up the stem of a used champagne glass. Mostly, her gaze is pinned on Chad, but every few seconds, she shoots me an odd glance.

  “The supreme. I request an audience,” Chad spits, one hand still on me, keeping me close.

  It’s impossible not to see the shock crease over the vampire’s face. She jerks so sharply she almost knocks the used glass off her tray.

  “I’m afraid that’s not poss—”

  Chad simply raises a hand to cut her off. “The witch is here for the supreme. How do you think she’ll react to hearing that you turned away an Alcott?”

  The vampire mouthed my last name and looked to her fellow barman.

  “Can I get you both a drink while you wait?” the vampire adds.

  “Water for the witch. A crimson kiss for me.”

  Chad lists off our order, and the vampire disappears into a dark corner of the bar, where the walls are lined with bottles and empty glasses. I want to scold him for dropping my name. If this gets back to the witches, I would be done for. And worse, if Mother ever caught word that I was in an establishment run by the supreme, she’d have my head before she even tried to go after the supreme.

  We stand in silence until the vampire brings our drinks over. Her movement is a blur, so fast that I almost stumble back at the shock of her sudden presence.

  “Water,” she purrs, sliding the glass across the sheen, wooden bar. “For the Alcott.” My stomach turns as the vampire plays with my name. “And for you, handsome… straw?”

  The question is as playful as her facial expression. Before Chad can answer her, the other bartender drops off a tumbler brimmed with a dark liquid. Its coppery scent reaches my nose even from this distance.

  Blood.

  Chad simply ignores her, turning his back on her until he faces the dancing crowd. But I still stare. At first, I am surprised by the bartender’s fearful expression—until I realize it’s not Chad that strikes her dread. I turn and see the vampire approach.

  “Chad Danvers, I must admit, it has been an awfully long while since you last visited my establishment. After the last time, I believed you would never return. And with a witch. I say, things certainly have changed.”

  The woman who regards Chad is beautiful. Ethereal. If angels were real, I’m sure she would be one. With a waterfall of dark hair that only extenuates her red eyes, milky skin and high cheekbones, plush lips the shade of apples, she is absolutely stunning. Not once does she look at me. Only to Chad, who she seems to know intimately.

  “Supreme.” Chad bows his head.

  Only then do I notice the gaggle of burly vampires around her. And how the occupants of the club parted like the Red Sea to allow her through. There is even a rich scent that seeps from her two-piece, pinstriped suit. Clearly, the supreme is an important woman to the vampires, just like Elder Jane is to the witches and the alpha is to the wolves.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Chad says as he raises his head.

  “Well, I’m here more for my desire to target the pungent smell of magic coating the air. A witch’s arrival is never missed, Mr. Danvers, as you well know. Or perhaps you have forgotten, since there seems to be a strong scent of magical protection that is practically oozing off of you as well...”

  Chad doesn’t respond, so the supreme takes this opportunity to assess me. She stares, dragging her gaze up and down the length of my small frame. From face to feet and back again, the supreme looks at me, not missing a single flaw in my fake courage. Unlike other vampires, her gaze does not cause a chill to wash over me. Instead, it burns, leaving me cold as ice.

  “Welcome, George Alcott. I commend your bravery for walking into such a place and not concealing your true identity.”

  My throat dries, tightening so thoroughly I have to take a sip of water. Once I gulp two healthy mouthfuls, I clear my throat and reply. “Thank you for seeing us.”

  “Let’s just say I’m intrigued by your request to speak with me. Come and follow me, boys. I am certain what you have to say should not be spoken among these eavesdropping ears.”

  I look to the club, and again, everyone is watching. No one dances. No one is moving. All eyes are on us and the interaction before them. A witch is here to see the supreme. I can only imagine what that seems like from a vampire’s perspective.

  The supreme turns on her heels and moves back through the club, bodyguards in tow. W
e follow behind them, slipping past the vampires who stand in our way.

  The room she takes us toward is up a flight of metal stairs at the back of the club. I hold onto the railing as the frame swings under all of our weight. I’m not quite as light on my feet as the vampires are. They move effortlessly, like true predators, whereas I stomp my way up each step, careful not to tumble over the side railing. Once we reach the door at the top of the stairs, I’m glad to be on a solid, still ground. Of course, the nerves fluttering in my stomach doesn’t help my situation.

  “Can I get you anything stronger than water, George?” the supreme asks as she takes her seat behind an ornate desk that looks straight out of an old-time movie. “My club may cater to vampires, but I do stock hard liquor in case our… other visitors need something to dull their senses.”

  I feel Chad stiffen in the chair next to me.

  “No,” I say quickly. “Thank you, but I am fine with the water.”

  “Then let’s not waste any time. I’m sure you’re just as busy as I am. Tell me, what can I do for you, George?” Slowly, she runs her fingernail down her chin, across her throat, and into the dip of her low neckline. I swallow the lump in my throat. The supreme’s gaze flickers to it, lips parting ever so slightly.

  “We are here because of a missing vampire. Someone important to us both.” I can’t miss the clear intrigue that spreads across her face, lifting her narrow brows high toward her hairline. “I’ve exhausted my skills and resources in trying to find her, but nothing works. This is why we are here, to ask for your help.”

  “Never have I known a witch to care for a vampire’s whereabouts. May I ask why you are so invested in finding this missing girl?”

  Chad’s hand reaches for mine and squeezes. The supreme watches the movement, her eyes narrowing.

  “She is a friend. In many ways, my only friend.”

  “Friend?” The supreme issues a breath and conjures a smile. “How… progressive. A witch and a vampire… friends. And the two of you,” she glances between Chad and me, “I can smell the… tension between you.” She taps her long nails against the wood of her desk. “What would your treaty say about you two? That interests me more than a missing vampire.” I expect Chad to release my hand, but he doesn’t. He only grips tighter. “Unlike your elder witch, I like to think of myself as a forward thinker—much like you, George. For now, I’ll keep your relationship a secret between the three of us. It intrigues—no, excites me to see this connection you’ve formed.”

  I can see the excitement in her stare. It is lit from the inside out, burning like a fire within her.

  “Can you help us?” I ask bluntly. “I was told to see you for guidance. As the leader of the vampires, you are the last person we can turn to.” I don’t hide the desperation in my voice.

  The supreme stands and gestures for Chad, almost shooing him away. “Please, Mr. Danvers, wait for us outside. I would very much like to finish this conversation alone with the Alcott.”

  “I won’t leave him.” Chad’s voice is monotone and cold. I’m sure it took courage, but I know he fears for my safety.

  The supreme clears her throat. “You seem to have forgotten your place here, Mr. Danvers. You know as well as any that my deals are dealt in confidence. Now, considering our history, I’ll grant you leniency for your transgression, but do not mistake my kindness for weakness. Leave. Now.”

  My throat tightens at her words. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” I tell Chad, trying to reassure myself, as well as him.

  Chad doesn’t move for a moment, as if he’s frozen in time. I wonder if he will refuse her again. I pray he will not. As soon as Chad stands, the supreme calls for a guard, who escorts Chad out, leaving me alone with the leader of the vampires.

  But I am no threat to her. We both don’t require protection… I hope.

  She underestimates us.

  The door slams shut, making me jump. In my fear, I blurt the only question I care to ask. “So you can help?”

  “Of course, but not without a promise from you in return. A successful businesswoman would never strike a deal without collateral.”

  Something sinister passes behind her red eyes, but I have to ignore it. If this is truly a chance to find Savi, I have to take it. She’s worth whatever the supreme has waiting for me.

  “What kind of promise?” I ask.

  “When I need your assistance, I will call upon you. I expect you to be there, immediately and without question, and handle whatever situation I present you. That is the deal, Mr. Alcott. Accept or find this girl on your own,” she says.

  No words come to my aid, so I nod. The supreme extends a hand for me. I take it, feeling just how cold she is. It’s like taking a bare handful of snow in the deep of winter. As soon as she releases my hand, I’m filled with dread. What have I just done?

  “Of course, I will need her name,” the supreme says, turning from me and rubbing her hand down her trouser leg.

  “Savannah Danvers.” Saying it aloud takes a pressure off my shoulders.

  Her name makes the supreme pause. I see the recognition cross her face. She frowns slightly, her eyes lost in some memory. Only when I clear my throat does her gaze return to mine. She smiles then. “I should have guessed. That would explain Chad’s insistence.” Her voice is softer now, and I wonder what history this woman has with the Danvers family.

  The supreme reaches over her desk for her black smartphone. She picks it up, presses a single button, and places the phone to her ear. I try to halt my breath so I can focus on the voice who answers. Being in the dark panics me more than asking for her help in the first place.

  “It’s me,” she says, forgoing pleasantries.

  I can hear someone respond on the other end, but the noise is no more than a subtle chorus of fuzz and high-pitched tones. Rarely do I wish for a vampire’s heightened senses, but in this moment, I desperately wish to share Chad’s gifts.

  “It’s time you return your favor. Send out your wolves, and locate the scent of a missing vampire.”

  Wolves? Surely not. My heart picks up speed, so frantic it clogs my hearing with its incessant beats. She called the werewolves? They’re the last creatures we need to confide in!

  “Savannah Danvers. I trust you can search for her scent, and…” She stops speaking and listens to the voice on the other end. Time seems to slow as she considers the speaker’s words. “Is that a fact? How interesting.” She glances my way with a knowing look. As if, in that moment, she’s uncovered all of my secrets. “Regardless, call me when you smell something.” She clicks off the phone, abruptly ending the call. She hands me a small square of paper and a black pen.

  “Write down your number, and I shall contact you when I find her.”

  “I—I…” I want to ask about the wolves, but I can’t find the words. Instead, I scrawl my number on the paper, which she quickly snatches from me when I’m done.

  “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  She is dismissing me, so I stand and make my way toward the door. I move slowly, feeling like I’m floating above my body and something else is in control.

  “If you have any more information to share about the disappearance of Miss Danvers, you know where to find me. Anything might be of interest and can help me locate her.”

  I swallow the knot that forms in my throat, grasp the door handle, and push into the hallway. I can’t even offer her a final glance. Something about her words, her tone, tells me she knows.

  “Goodbye, George,” the supreme calls from inside her office. “For now, at least.”

  Savi

  The sudden surge of power washes over me. The executioner’s sacrifice may not be enough to both heal and strengthen me, but it will certainly be enough to escape this prison. I can heal at home.

  My veins tingle as my body absorbs the blood offering. I feel drunk, high on his life. Though it was a necessary kill, I know I will soon regret it. The moment his memories of torturing and maiming supernaturals surf
ace, I’ll be the one left to repent for his sins. I can only hope Will’s memories will be stronger.

  But I can’t worry about that now. I can’t worry about what the executioner’s blood will make me feel, see, because a half-dozen hunters in soldier-gear are stomping their way toward me. They move in unison, their boots smacking the concrete floor in an intentional beat. I don’t have to compel them to spill their inner thoughts to know this is the music of their soul. They live for the kill. I see the confirmation of their excitement on their faces.

  As they approach me, the rumbling thunder of caged supernaturals empowers me. It pains me to know I likely won’t be able to save them. The power of the executioner’s blood wanes even now. Had I been at full strength when I drained him, I would have been refueled for days. I can only pray it was enough to see me through my vengeance.

  They move together, as if they’ve been training for this all their lives. And I believe that to be true. I don’t know where I am, but this place obviously trains humans to be supernatural hunters. Ironically, I never thought a place like this could exist, even though the witch trials are more than enough proof that humans fear and will kill what they do not understand.

  I brace myself as all six attack at once. Ignoring the cheers from my caged supernatural comrades, I pounce, flipping through the air so that I am nearly flying above the men. When I land, I take two by surprise. I reach for their throats, slamming their heads together. They fall as mushy heaps to the ground, and I can’t help but chastise myself for the wasted food.

  “Two down,” I taunt. I’m confident I can outmaneuver my attackers, even if they are stronger than me at the moment, even if they’re better armed.

  I dash across the room, moving side to side, as tiny wooden bullets shaped like baby stakes are shot toward me. I spin, jump, and nearly fly from the ground to avoid being hit. They move past me in slow motion. I stare at one a second too long, and by the time I realize another bullet is parallel to my cheek, it has already made impact, leaving a deep, crimson gash in its wake.