Moon Struck

by Ben Alderson

  I explore every room in the house, searching, hoping. Will Mother be waiting with her frowning face and narrow frame? Will she be in the kitchen, cooking supper, or in the basement, torturing a vampire? Will she be asleep in her room?

  I know where she is as I pass from room to room. She’s in a deep hole within the ground, her cold body covered by soil and darkness. Knowing she’s gone leaves me with a strange feeling. They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, but I never thought that saying would ring true for her. The woman made my life miserable ever since Father died. But here I am, standing in the doorway of her clean, organized room, and I have a hole in my heart, my soul, my life.

  Parentless.

  No longer am I George without a father. I am George without anyone.

  You have me, Abraxon says.

  Relief warms me from deep within my chest. You won’t leave me? I ask.

  Never. We are one now.

  I know I should fear his words, but I don’t. Nothing can be worse than being alone. Not even sharing a body with a demon I know little about. The demon’s presence gives me strength, but even with his power, I couldn’t stop the alpha from killing my mother.

  You wish to avenge your fallen mother?

  The thought of avenging Mother fills me with a rush of adrenaline. It’s my right to kill the alpha for what he did. Life for a life. Blood for blood. That is what the treaty states. I have the right to collect my blood atonement.

  My lips curve into a smile.

  But what of the girl? Abraxon asks.

  Savi…

  Her sire bond will force her to stop you.

  Abraxon is right. Savi stepped in front of the fire, blocking the alpha, and instead being hurt by my magic, she felt nothing. It never even touched her, not with the shimmering gleam that surrounded her.

  Will you choose vengeance over your friend?

  I shrug, almost imaging the darkness in full form, standing in Mother’s room. Savi is my friend, but she cannot stop me from taking what is owed.

  Time is as meaningless as everything else. I find myself waking on Mother’s bed, shivering. Morning light streams through the window, highlighting the dancing spectacles of dust in the bright rays. The window is open, and the air is cool, the sky is blue, and not a cloud is in sight. It’s beautiful for such a vile day, for today is my first day as an orphan.

  Sleep did me well. I feel as though my mind is clear. Thankfully, I didn’t dream, so I wasn’t haunted by memories.

  I sit upright, and Mother’s sheets crumple around me. I glance around the room, wondering what to do today. Do I speak with Elder Jane? Did Mother’s coven report the attack? If they had, wouldn’t someone already be here, insistent on an inquisition?

  I trust the coven would not tell a soul. They attacked other supernaturals, and they completed a demon possession ritual. Both are equally forbidden. If they were to tell the elder what happened, they would be sentenced as harshly as the rest of us. It’s only a matter of time before the coven returns for me—unless I find them first.

  Of course, the wolves would not speak of this. For beastly creatures, they are the best keepers of secrets. And with Savi now half-belonging to them, they won’t risk telling the council. They would be forced to kill her, and that would mean the wolves would lose their strongest ally.

  So this leaves me to deal with the issue. Soon, the council will wonder why Mother doesn’t visit town anymore, and when they cannot find her, they’ll want answers. I could lie and tell them she died of natural causes, but I know my expression would give me away. Just the thought of dismissing Mother’s death makes me angry. For now, I want to deal with the wolves. The alpha must pay for what he did, and once I’ve taken care of him, I don’t care who knows the truth.

  Until then, I should eat, but I’m not hungry. I know I need to maintain my strength, but I don’t even have the desire for a drink. I want nothing more than to curl back into a ball and drift off into an empty, dreamless sleep.

  I want to see Mother again, but the thought makes me want to scold myself. How can I miss someone who did such awful things? I cannot justify my own feelings, but I accept them for what they are.

  Perhaps I can scry and call for her spirit to return for one last conversation. Witches have communicated with the dead before. Only powerful witches can complete such spells, and what’s more powerful than an Alcott possessed by a demon?

  I spring from Mother’s bed with a new mission in mind. Mother’s spell books are kept in Father’s study, which is behind the crimson door at the end of the corridor on the second floor. I haven’t been inside for years, and I’ve mostly forgotten the room was even part of the house. I know it will be locked by a spell, but perhaps Mother’s death has lifted the spell that keeps it shut.

  I run for the room, and when I reach the door, I find it stuck. Slamming my palms into the door’s surface, I will it to open, but if Mother’s spell still holds, it is the house that must make the decision. I apologize for hitting the wood and ask for entry. For the first time since I came home last night, the house finally makes noise. I wonder if it too grieves her death. Like a sharp intake of breath, the door opens, allowing the strong scent of jasmine and sage to waft into the hallway.

  Sometimes, locked doors are meant for more than keeping one out…

  I dismiss Abraxon’s words. Who knew it was even possible for the demon to feel worry or express words of caution? Perhaps my soul is poisoning it just as it poisons me.

  This is not Mother’s study. If it were, everything would be clean and organized, but instead, the room is a mess. Books are in piles on the floor, some open and some closed. A desk sits in front of the blue and yellow stained-glass window. It’s covered in scrolls and other strange relics. This room definitely belongs to my father. From the smell to the way it looks, this room was his secret escape, his sanctuary.

  I take three small steps into the room, and my blood goes cold. Abraxon slithers and coils within me.

  I hear the chimes jingle, but there shouldn’t be chimes here or anywhere in the house. I know that, because I know what that means. Chimes come from Never, a place where the souls of the supernatural dead are trapped when they have no place to claim as their final resting place. The noise is as much of a welcome as it is a warning. It is a sign that the dead still linger.

  “Mother?” I say, wondering if it is her soul that has come to visit me. Did she sense my desire to see her? I didn’t even need tools or to chant to summon her? Just my will alone worked?

  Beware, Abraxon whispers. Its warning slices through the elating happiness that envelopes me as I consider I might see her again.

  The slamming of the door behind me makes me scream, a short burst of terror and surprise. I spin around toward the noise, searching for what caused the door to close. Spirits cannot touch the physical or the living.

  I look at the figure leaning against the now-closed door. This person is not Mother. In fact, this person isn’t a woman at all. It’s a man—tall, dressed in a dark coat with a bowler hat tipped over his head, causing a shadow to cover his features. Dark smoke slithers from the phantom’s frame. He is broad, strong. His lips familiar, his chin pointed and covered in coarse, gray hairs. The ghostly man raises his head slowly, allowing the light from the window to reach his pale face.

  “Too long, she kept me prisoner within this room, but you have finally freed me.”

  “Who are you?” I demand, letting my anger spill into my words. It’s hard to focus on the phantom’s face. It moves like water rippling after a heavy stone has been thrown, but without a name, I will not be able to see past its spelled layer of protection. Without a name, I will not be able to command it to leave my home.

  “Now, now, is that any way to speak to your father?”

  The room spins violently. As clear as day, the phantom’s façade falters, revealing its real form.

  “Father?” I can barely speak, my voice but a whisper.

  “Yes,
my lad, it is me. I am back.”

  Savi

  I stare at the dark manor that looms before me. Like my own home, it’s one of the many Victorian-style houses that litter the streets of Hillcrest. Like my own, its walls surround a broken family.

  “I think we have another problem,” Chad says, breaking the silence. Slowly, I turn on my heel.

  “We can’t worry about me right now,” I say.

  Chad shakes his head. “Not you. George.”

  I arch a brow, my interest piqued.

  “In order to find you, we had to go to the supreme. I wasn’t in the room with George when he spoke to her, but when they were done, she agreed to help find you.”

  “The supreme? How could you let him go to her? How could you let him go there?” The supreme fancies a lifestyle that many vampires wish they could enjoy. She feeds from “blood slaves,” as she likes to call them. Taking George there was an awful idea.

  “We didn’t have another choice. He tried every scrying spell he could think of. He even asked Elder Jane for help. In fact, she’s the one who sent him to the supreme.”

  I groan internally. George isn’t familiar with the vampires’ world. It’s dark and dangerous—nothing like what he’s used to. Witches practice magic peacefully, happily enjoying their existence and thanking their goddess for their gifts. Vampires are creatures of the night. As shadow stalkers, they innately crave taking lives. This is why it’s so hard to maintain the damn treaty.

  “I think he made a deal with her, Savi.” I eye him cautiously as he continues, “And not a good one.”

  I swallow the knot that forms in my throat. My stomach twists at the thought of George aiding the supreme. He has no idea what mess he has gotten himself into with her.

  But I intend to get him out of it.

  The club’s security lets Chad and me pass without any issues, and suddenly, I’m transported in time. The moment I pass the threshold, memories of my darkest days—the ones that followed the loss of my parents—come rushing back. I spent countless days and nights here, relishing in all that vampires can truly be when there’s no treaty in place. The supreme welcomed me like I was the daughter she never had. To the other vampires, I was royalty. I hunted and killed without remorse, and I was proud. Now, I’m ashamed of what I let myself become after my parents were killed.

  I scan the dance floor, where vampires flutter together like moths to flame. I watch as the many vampires sway their hips to the beat of the music. With eyes closed and lips stained from drinking too much blood, they smile, raising their arms to the ceiling. I shake my head, wondering how some can be so fortunate while others are struggling to survive.

  The room is dark, but Chad and I have no issues making our way toward the back of the club, for the darkness is meant to keep away prying eyes which do not belong, like witches or even some humans. Although most know what they’re getting into when they enter this particular establishment, some tourists do not. They think it’s just a dance club. In a lot of ways, it is, but unfortunately, the entry fee is one’s life.

  The many seating areas are taken by vampires choosing not to dance. A hearty laugh draws my attention. I witness a human girl straddle a vampire’s lap, practically begging him to drink from her. And he does. As a thank you, he compels her to feel an ecstasy far better than any commercial drug could ever offer her. I lick my lips and look away, reminding myself that I’m here to see the supreme, not to fall back into bad habits.

  As we make our way past the bar, I notice each stool is taken. There seem to be more vampires lingering in this club than I’ve ever seen before. I wonder if they’re on to us, if they know why we’ve come to speak with the supreme about George.

  We take the steps two at a time, and without knocking, I enter her second-floor office. She grumbles something under her breath about needing better security before our gazes meet. I can’t explain the feeling that washes over me. When I was lost, she was there. She became so much more than just a familiar vampire. In the time since, we’ve slowly grown apart. I no longer needed to escape in this place, and I know that upset her. Even so, I see the flash of happiness that dances in her eyes when she sees it’s me who entered her office without permission.

  I smile softly. I’m often left awestruck when I look at her. Ethereal and breathtakingly beautiful, she is tall, with long dark hair, milky skin, piercing crimson eyes, and a keen sense to uncover one’s darkest secrets. She can either be a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy. If I were smart, I’d keep my distance. But in a long string of stupid mistakes, I never listen to my gut.

  “Savannah, it’s so good to see you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and she pulls me into a hug. Quickly, she pulls away, holding me at an arm’s length. Her nose crinkles as she stares down at me. “My goodness, child, you smell like a wet dog. Haven’t you bathed since you returned home?”

  I smile, chuckling awkwardly as I free myself from her grasp. I take several steps back, feeling vulnerable under her glare, and cross my arms over my chest. Silently, I pray she cannot see the differences—my eyes, my complexion, my temperature… There are so many now. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to keep this secret.

  “I’m delighted you’ve been returned home. I trust Zane was a gentleman,” she continues. Her casual use of the alpha’s name sparks unwanted jealousy. How does she know him? She’s always been known for her connections, but could her relationship with Zane be more than that?

  “I wanted to talk about the agreement you made with George,” I say confidently. If she could read my mind, she’d know I don’t actually know anything. Maybe there isn’t an agreement in place, but if history proves right, then she’ll believe my bluff.

  “The witch?” she asks.

  “Yes. The witch,” Chad intervenes. He stands beside me, towering over my small frame. His arms dangle at his sides, hands clenched.

  I reach over and clasp my hand around his balled fist. I rub my thumb against his skin, and he loosens his grip. I need him to relax. If she senses we’re hiding something, she’ll pry until we squeal. And goddess knows what she’ll ask when she holds my secret over us.

  She tsks Chad with her index finger. “Don’t speak out of turn, boy.” Again, he’s iron-fisted. I groan internally as I consider my losing battle.

  “I’d like you to reconsider the agreement. Relieve him of his obligation to you,” I say.

  “No. Certainly not.” She speaks quickly, not even considering my request. “The witch and I made a verbal agreement. I upheld my promise by sending Zane to find you. Must I remind you that our word is binding? I expect the witch to keep his promise as well.”

  “You and I both know you would have sent Zane to find me even without a promise from George. Our family ties go back generations. You owe my mother this, Ophelia.” I use her name, refusing to call her by her title. I know this will upset her, but she will not show it. This is a business meeting, and in such a setting, the supreme must be proper. Even so, she narrows her eyes.

  “Remember your place, young Savannah. Returning you to your brother is more than enough to relieve me of my debt to your family.”

  “You won’t even consider my request?” I ask, resorting to begging. I’m not too desperate to offer her a final plea. “What if I am indebted to you instead? I give you my word. Relinquish George.”

  “Your word is no good to me. I need a witch. Besides, I have my pick of vampires just outside my office door.” She smiles.

  “You need a witch? What have you planned for him?” I question.

  “I’ve heard the whispers that have befallen our great town just as I’m sure you have. Humans have come to investigate the disappearance of college students. With humans lurking in the shadows, one cannot have too many friends.”

  “By ‘friends,’ you mean those indebted to you,” Chad says, using air quotation marks for emphasis.

  “I will not discuss this again. Leave me,” she says, waving us off with her hand. As if we’ve already le
ft, she returns to her paperwork, paying us no attention as we slowly retreat.

  The night air feels different as it caresses my skin. No longer soothing, it brushes against me harshly, as if in warning. The door to the club slams shut behind us, and I scan the street, feeling oddly on edge.

  Chad is speaking, but I can’t understand his words. My heart is hammering in my chest so loudly I’m sure the group I stare at can even hear it across the street. My hands, now clammy, shake at my sides. I can’t breathe, and with each gulp of air I inhale, my lungs burn. I feel rooted to the cement yet so light I could float away. I almost wish I really could.

  I remember the supreme’s words of warning. Humans are coming to town, and they plan to investigate the disappearance of college students. I know she’s referring to the bonfire massacre—the very same one George and I are witnesses to. Save for Will, we are the sole survivors.

  In the distance, I watch Elder Jane speak to the intruders. She welcomes them, assuring them that her department is doing all they can to investigate the disappearances. In her capacity as our town’s “police chief,” she’s doing her job. She pretends Hillcrest is just like any other town.

  But it’s not. It’s a town for supernaturals, and she’s just offered free reign in her investigation to the very people she need fear.

  Because these visitors aren’t human.

  As I stare into the familiar eyes of my greatest enemies, I see these intruders for what they really are.

  Hunters.

  The next spellbinding installment in the Hillcrest Supernaturals series...

  Hex Bound

  About the Authors

  Dubbed a "triple threat" by readers, Danielle Rose dabbles in many genres, including fantasy, thrillers, and romance. The USA Today bestselling author holds a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing from the University of Southern Maine. Visit Danielle on the Web: www.droseauthor.com.