Timeless Moon

by C. T. Adams

  Rick looked exactly the same as the day he’d walked out her door, so many decades ago. As in her vision the other day, his hair was sun-streaked with so many shades of yellow that Van Gogh would be impressed. He looked miserably hot in a forest green flannel shirt, which was far too thick for the climate, but the color was the perfect to show off his golden eyes and neatly trimmed beard.

  He seemed awestruck at the sight of her, and she fought to retain her annoyance as his eyes raked her body with a need that took her breath away. Apparently, he was even more adept at projecting emotions than in years past, and it was difficult to put any venom behind the first words out of her mouth. “You’re lying.”

  “Probably.” He nodded as he reached for her and no matter how hard she fought against it, the burning, desperate desire to be touched by him crushed her willpower. Magic flowed over her skin as their bodies met and when his lips found hers, a nearly anguished yowl rose from her chest.

  God, he tasted so good; felt so wonderful wrapped around her again. His grip was like steel around her shoulder, and her own fingers convulsed against his solid back muscles in reflex. When his tongue slipped in her mouth, she nearly giggled at the first flavor to greet her after so long. Maple syrup and butter. He’s still a sucker for waffles and sausage for breakfast.

  How she’d missed the sensation of his rough beard against her face as his jaw moved against hers in the deepening kiss. It was nearly enough for her to forget everything that had happened. It wasn’t until his mouth left hers to gently kiss down her neck that he dissolved the illusion of happiness.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Bun.”

  The words struck her like a blow to the heart. Bun—the warm endearment went far back in time to the day they were out hunting in animal form and had come upon a young rabbit. Unlike its siblings and parents, it hadn’t run from the pair of stalking cats. The little brown rabbit was either too naive or too brave to show fear, and the casual curiosity of the tiny thing as it had hopped toward them completely charmed Josette. To Rick’s supreme amusement, she’d shifted forms and took the rabbit home to live with them for a short time, until it finally found a mate and moved on. He laughed and called her “bunny-lover,” which was eventually shortened to Bunny and then just Bun.

  It was that casual reminder of the solid life that they’d had, the warm and loving relationship that had been destroyed when he left…and then when he died.

  She pulled away from him, pushing against his chest. Now the words had venom, and she watched him flinch. “But not enough to call? You didn’t miss me so much that you felt compelled to write, or even send a message through my sister? A simple ‘I’m alive, but have to stay hidden’ would have been enough.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off with a raised hand and a slap of angry magic against his face that pulled a hiss from him. “No, Rick. You let me mourn. You knew where I was. I’ve been in the same house for a century, and never once did you miss me enough to seek me out.”

  He stood there for a long moment, soaking up her emotions. It wouldn’t matter if she tried to hide them from her face, so she didn’t bother. Instead, she walked to the small chair at the far corner of the room and sat down, staring at him with all the pain and anger she felt.

  Finally, he sighed, crossed his arms against his chest and dropped his head. “You’re right. I didn’t do any of those things.” Tiny little movements of his head now, accompanied by a wave of self-anger were enough to make tears well in her eyes. “I was far too wrapped up in my own life to think about what my decisions would do to other people. I guess I figured—” He looked up and into her eyes. “That it wouldn’t matter to you because of how we split.” He shrugged before turning to the door and touching it. “I was stupid and immature, and you have every right to tell me to get out and stay out.”

  He stood there, his hand on the door, waiting for…something. She stared at his broad back, felt the rolling tide of emotions he was projecting, and truly didn’t know what to do. The part of her that was devastated wanted to slash him to ribbons and throw his bloodied body into the parking lot to heal or not. The part that was still desperately in love with him wanted to forgive all and clutch him to her until the pain went away. But she had no way of knowing whether he wouldn’t just do it again—open a second wound that might never heal.

  A compromise then.

  “I should probably at least hear what Charles asked you to tell me before I make that decision.” She watched his shoulders drop a fraction, releasing the tension that had made his muscles twitch.

  He was just about to shut the door when a face appeared in the doorway. That’s right! She’d forgotten that Ellen was going to drop by for a lesson on meditation. It would help her stabilize her mind when visions were bad.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” the girl said when she saw Rick in the room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Should I come back later, Josette?”

  Rick looked back at her with raised brows, waiting for her to decide. Josette nodded. “That would probably be best. I don’t know how long this is going to take. Ellen, this is Rick Johnson. He’s—” She fumbled in her mind for the right term. Not husband, nor lover, and not really even a friend right now. “Someone I used to know.” The words had the desired effect on him. He twitched as though stuck with a sharp needle, and even the girl noticed and bit her lower lip uncomfortably. But Josette continued on calmly. “Rick, this is Ellen Harris. She’s a fledgling and a future seer.”

  He turned his head and nodded to her. “I’m hoping I might be someone Josette is willing to get to know again. But in case I’m wrong, it was nice to meet you.”

  Ellen cleared her throat and widened her eyes slightly before raising a nervous hand and backing up a pace. “Um, okay. You too.” She turned her face to Josette. “I’ll drop by when I get a break at lunch. After that, I’ll be on desk duty until dinnertime.”

  She looked at the girl and realized she hadn’t followed up with her since they’d returned. She’d been far too tired to play mediator with Ellen’s parents the night before. “Everything okay at home?”

  The girl shrugged fluidly, clearly showing the common trait with other raptors whose arms became wings. Her first turn would be soon—quite possibly with this moon. “Not as good as I’d hoped, but not as bad as I’d been afraid of. It’s pretty tense, but nothing out in the open.”

  Josette nodded and waited until she left and Rick closed the door before speaking again. “So, what’s so important that my brother-in-law was willing to drag you from the grave long enough for me to put you right back in it?”

  The words were tongue-in-cheek, sort of, and Rick knew it. But he took the question with aplomb. He smiled and gave a small chuckle, willing to put the past behind them long enough to carry out his mission. He’d always been a terrific Wolven agent, and this was one of the reasons. He sat down on the corner of the bed so he could face her. Seriousness crept across his features until his expression was grave and all business.

  “Charles is in trouble, and so are the other foresight seers. The spell your mother had placed on you as a child is being used on them.” He paused as she felt all heat drop from her face, and an icy chill run up her spine. “Amber doesn’t think they’ll survive the next full moon.”

  Her hand moved to her mouth. Oh, how she remembered the fever and the pain the spell inflicted on her. To know that Charles, for all his faults, was enduring that—and what of the others?

  Nana, the seer for the Boulder pack, who was one of the very few of the original tribe of Sazi. She’d endured the Ravaging, when the humans had systematically committed genocide against their kind. She’d lived a hard life, fought against all odds. But there was no fighting a siphon spell. It was like quicksand—the harder you fought, the quicker you were pulled down to your death.

  The Duchess Olga Ivanevna, seer for the Chicago wolves, was the illegitimate child of Ivan the Terrible. She’d survived multiple assassination attempts over the years, much as Josett
e had, but none had been like this.

  And her own brother, Antoine. He’d never forgiven her for Maman’s death, yet she knew he someday would. It would be his lovely wife, Tahira, who would change his heart, but not for a number of years yet and only if he survived.

  There were others, too—from tribes that didn’t walk under the flag of the Sazi council. She hadn’t met them, but had seen them in visions; corresponded with them in her mind.

  That there was another seer powerful enough to cast a ritual spell to block all of their gifts told her there was something serious indeed happening. “Do they have any idea who’s behind it?”

  Rick shook his head. “They have suspicions—nothing more.” He sighed. He didn’t like telling her this next part, but it was better if she knew up front. “There are those on the council who suspect you.”

  “I would never!” She protested.

  Rick acknowledged it with a wave. “I know. I know. Apparently, it’s been going on for some time. Charles told Amber you wouldn’t be affected because of the botched spell from before. I’m glad you weren’t. Charles looked awful.”

  Josette shook her head strongly. “Don’t be so certain I haven’t been affected, too. I haven’t had visions of any of this. But I should have…these are all critical things to our kind and up until now, I would have known all about this long before you arrived. I should already be at Charles’s bedside. I should have already eliminated the spell, and yet it remains. Don’t you remember the day when I insisted you not go to Lexington?”

  He cocked his head slightly and rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, how could I forget not becoming legendary, the original victim of the ‘shot heard round the world’?”

  She barely had time to nod before the vision hit.

  It was late in 1773. The weather outside was bitter cold. Iron gray clouds—heavy with snow that had, thus far, refused to fall—blocked the sun. The wind whipped at her long skirt as she hurried down the wooden walkway, the slick soles of her high-button boots making the way treacherous.

  There wasn’t much time. Nor much chance of success. Still, she had to try. Not just for her freedom and that of her sister, but for all the others. Lives were in the balance. Lives not yet born, but lives nonetheless.

  She’d chosen this morning because Maman was with the seamstress. Ridiculous, really, trying to keep up with the height of French fashion here in this new country on the far reaches of the world. But Maman, while deadly dangerous, was frequently ridiculous as well. She felt that the right clothing would make the right impression. And impressions must be made—most particularly on the type of men of means who could make life so much more…comfortable for her.

  The carved, painted wooden sign swung on chains in the bitter winds: “Charles Wingate, Solicitor.”

  She reached a gloved hand into the delicately beaded drawstring bag she carried, withdrawing a worn and tattered piece of correspondence. She reread the letter to be sure that yes, this was the correct place. Then, steeling her will, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside.

  The room was blissfully warm, heated by a sturdy potbellied stove in the center of the room. Well lit, too. There was an oil lamp for each of the four desks and another on the small wooden table next to the settee.

  “May I help you miss?”

  The young man who stepped forward was incredibly handsome. His blond hair had been pulled back and tied with a black ribbon. He had the build of an athlete, rather than a scholar, but there was intelligence in those thick-lashed golden eyes, and his clothes were of a quality signifying his status. She would guess him to be a senior apprentice. One who was well thought of and well treated.

  It was his scent that made her catch her breath. Even over the smoke of the fire and the scent of the lamp oil she could smell the animal that was his other form, and below that, the personal scent that was just him. He was a bobcat, like her.

  It took her a long, embarrassing moment before she could gather her thoughts enough to speak. But even though he had to have noticed, he was too well bred or well trained to react. He simply waited, his expression neutral and utterly calm.

  “I am here to see Mr. Wingate.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  She blinked, flustered. “What day is it?”

  “It is Wednesday, November fourth.”

  “And the year?”

  That unbalanced him, but only for a second. She could hear the sound of quills stopping as the other apprentices reacted. Still, he remained polite. “It is 1773, miss.”

  “Oh. Then, no, I suppose I do not have an appointment. Allow me to present my card. I have no doubt Mr. Wingate will see me.”

  He bowed low, seeming more amused than concerned at her state. “Of course, miss.”

  Charles had seen her, met with her at length. Whether he’d been surprised by her appearance, or her rather radical proposal, was anyone’s guess. Then, as now, he was perfectly capable of playing his cards very close to the vest. In the end he had not only agreed to allow her access to the monies her father had put in trust for her, so that she could basically buy her mother off, but also had made the negotiations on her behalf personally. The very next day he and his apprentice, Richard, had met with Maman at their lodgings.

  Maman had been furious—beyond furious. How dare Josette bring up family matters to a stranger—even if he was the Chief Justice of the council. And to discuss such matters with a guard in attendance…unthinkable! But her mother’s hot fury was nothing compared to the cold rage of the messenger from the snake king, when he realized he had traveled across the world only to be outmaneuvered by a mere slip of a girl. The deal was simple. Josette and Yvette got their freedom from their mother and her maneuverings. In exchange, Sabine received passage back to France, and a large lump-sum settlement.

  There had been a backroom deal as well, though Charles had been unaware of it. Only Josette, Yvette, and Maman knew its terms. Josette had seen what her mother was capable of. Maman had murdered her own children in the past and would again if she felt it served her best interests. In fact, only the hope of financial gain from the family of her daughters’ father had kept them alive and well into their teenage years. In exchange for Josette’s silence and a generous monthly stipend from her daughters Sabine had agreed not to have any more children.

  That deal had held for a number of years—until the family had approached Sabine about the lack of a male heir; had in fact offered to replace the money her daughters were sending and more if she would breed until she had a male heir. It had been too easy. The girls were in America. They’d never know—particularly if the children didn’t live long. So she accepted money from both sides. Bred babies, raised them long enough to keep the lions from being suspicious before having them succumb to accidents, childhood illnesses, or an inability to survive the change.

  They might never have known if Josette hadn’t been a seer. But she was; and eventually she managed to break through the magical veils Sabine had erected through a caster-for-hire. She saw the birth of Antoine and Fiona, and of the last little baby. She saw the family watching Sabine closely to protect the youngsters. But when she saw their deaths at Sabine’s hands months in advance she interceded to save them from their mother’s growing madness.

  It had been the right thing to do. She was certain of it. But there had been consequences. The repercussions were still echoing through the years from that decision. Everything Antoine or Fiona did in this life was a consequence. That Richard—her Rick—was still alive was a consequence. And that she hadn’t sought out that hired caster right then, might well mean the end of them all now.

  She felt a sharp slap against her cheek. “Josie! Come back to this time. Pony, New Mexico. It’s the twenty-first century, Bun. C’mon back.”

  Her eyelids fluttered and bile churned in her stomach. She struggled against the visions that began to flow, as though a pinhole had appeared in the present and future that had been blocked to her. She tasted, smelled a
familiar combination that pulled a growl from her. The caster had returned—not the one Sabine had killed when she was a girl, but the one from later, the one who had veiled the deaths of her siblings. She needed to follow the thread back to see the face, to get some sense of the caster.

  But the visions wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, palm trees with a cool ocean breeze and the frantic feeling of time running out led her to a darkened chamber where her sister knelt, crying. Her husband, her wonderful bear of a man, lay dying and she couldn’t help. None of her healing skills could fix what was wrong. More beds with unconscious figures were nearby…seers from all over the world who had been brought to this place. Yvette was waiting, praying it would arrive in time—but what was it? What was she waiting for?

  “Josette, you have to come out of this. You know what happens the longer you stay inside!” Yes, she knew. She did know that it became harder to separate herself. But this was important. There were things she had to see that she might not be able to see later if she stopped now. She grabbed onto Rick’s hand like a lifeline, prayed that he would be able to keep her grounded. She could feel that her eyes were open from the cool air of his breath hitting them. But she couldn’t see the room; there was nothing but blackness and the flashes of images that flickered on a thousand screens.

  Her voice was thready, nearly identical to Ellen’s as it had been in the car. “I have to finish this. Close my eyes so they don’t dry out and keep me here if you can.”

  Now was the time to show what she had learned over the centuries. She was no longer a girl, to be bullied or buffaloed by cheap parlor tricks. She was a seer, the elite of the Sazi, and she would see that which she chose.