Blood Moon (Wildcat Wizard Book 1)

by Al K. Line

  It wasn't fast, these things seldom were, but what they lacked in speed they made up for with focus and general nastiness. It couldn't take you in its hand and down you went, it didn't work like that, but it could do something much worse. It could swallow your soul and destroy your body as your essence was ripped out. You'd be separated from your physical form, dead without visceral contact, and then off you went to some nasty realm of the Nolands, never to return.

  But the power of the creature was often limited by the one who called it, and remote work like this was never as strong as the user imagined. I got the impression it was an amateur or someone not truly capable behind this, more a desperate attempt to track and stop me than anything. It was flickering, more like a hologram of a demon than a true calling of a creature with its power intact.

  The Hounds? Nah, they'd do a better job, surely? Ah, just Nathan then? Yes, it would be him acting alone, a last-ditch effort to stop me.

  As the wizards spread out evenly around the pool, and I joined them, we each called forth a ward and dragged our feet to the right, drawing an invisible line with a multitude of magical forces that erupted up into a barrier once the circle was complete. There were smiles and a few moans as those with little magic to spare began to waver.

  It was now or never.

  "Be gone, foul creature of the Nolands. You are not welcome."

  "You are not welcome," came the chant taken up by those controlling the circle. We chanted over and over, and as the beast reached for me it pulled a clawed hand back sharply when a violent shockwave shook the magic circle that contained it. The demon jumped back, snarling.

  "I have been promised many gifts if I take your pathetic life, human. You will be mine." With that, the creature breathed in deep and sprang up high.

  My stomach dropped, thinking it would clear the circle and destroy us all. As it rose, a terrible chattering and clawing at my mind increased until I felt my sanity slip, overwhelmed with corrupted visions of its home world. Mixed in were its dreams and maybe even desires, the things promised it by another human. There was a glimpse of Nathan, sat on the grass with his ruined arm, soaked in sweat and clutching a small trinket he must have had on his person.

  It was him all right, and he'd promised this low-level demon more than it could have ever imagined. Items its kind would kowtow to, giving it power and position in its netherworld.

  "Not today, and don't you know that hat's way past being stylish." I shot out my right arm and an invisible tendril of magic lassoed its leg. I clenched my fist, yanking the ephemeral line as the demon reached the top of its trajectory.

  It bounced back then slammed down hard onto the pool floor, eliciting a groan from the Turk as the floor was utterly destroyed. I shouted, "Shrink the circle," and we all pushed out with our hands, forcing the invisible line off the edge of the pool and down to the shattered tiles below.

  With the beast already getting to its feet, we shoved harder and the barrier contracted until the thing had no choice but to retreat. Even before we'd sent it back where it came from it flickered and wavered wildly, the strength needed to maintain such a summoning and control the creature's presence too much for Nathan to manage.

  It blinked out of existence.

  I sank to the scalding tiles amid cheers and shouts and high-fives, fist-bumping those that came to me to slap me on the back.

  You'd think everyone would be shouting and carrying on, giving me grief and moaning, but they lived for this stuff, and a distraction was always welcome.

  And besides, compared to some of the things that had gone on here it was pretty tame, just the final, foolhardy act of a man who'd lost. Nathan was alive, though, and I wasn't sure that was a good thing or a very bad thing.

  But this smacked of desperation. It meant he hadn't reported to his superiors yet, and that meant he was in trouble for failing.

  That, at least, gave me a little time. No more Hounds on my trail for a while, and Nathan was spent.

  I got to my feet and apologized to the room and to the Turk especially. Everyone but him just smiled and began talking about the incident and reminiscing about all the other nasties that had come here over the years or had been conjured and got out of control.

  One thing you can say about Satan's Breath, it ain't like any other sauna you'll ever visit.

  "You still owe the Turk for the floor," said the Turk with a grumble, before he winked and I left to go get dressed.

  Night Sweats

  Demons notwithstanding, I felt rather refreshed once the cool night air hit. It was late now, gone two in the morning. The time I felt most alive, the time of magic. Of mystery.

  I wished I could sleep at nights. I knew it would make me an entirely different person. Maybe even put a stop to the things I got involved in, but sleep hardly ever came in the dark, and it wasn't for lack of trying.

  Maybe I was just scared. I knew too much, had seen too much, to find it easy to rest when the sun gave up its raging battle across the sky and the dark, cold night revealed the way to the stars. It's intimidating, the night sky. Makes you understand your position in the universe, how tiny and meaningless you are. That the power I drew on was what made everything I saw, and a lot I never would, endless, timeless. Enduring. And scary.

  It's not the truth, though. It wasn't the wildness of the universe that scared me, it was the wildness of the hearts and minds of man that truly terrified me.

  I'd never been a good sleeper, always tossed and turned and got up to mischief in the dark hours more often than not, but when George came into my life it escalated to a whole other level.

  It was fear for her that tipped me over the edge into full-blown insomnia. I would lie awake, listening to the house, listening to the universe, listening for the evil intentions of men. I knew nobody could get into my house, knew she was safe, but it didn't matter. She had to be protected, so I would wait, and listen, and worry, and panic, and then I would get up and I would leave.

  A contradiction, wanting to protect her, needing to, but leaving her alone. Not really. The house was safe, she was old enough to be left alone, and I was making life worse for us both by raging through the night in a restless semi-stupor.

  So I went out and stole more stuff. It was cathartic. The rush of adrenaline, the fear, the tightness in my belly as I got close, and then the lifting of my spirits as I got away with it and finally the rush as I was paid.

  I would return early in the morning, chipper and chatting, and I'd remain happy and content even as she moped about and moaned about the cereal or never even got out of bed until I had to crash and sleep for a few hours.

  What can I say? I tried my best yet knew it wasn't good enough, that I should be there now to protect her from the bad men, but the bad men wouldn't harm her as they couldn't get in.

  I drank in the darkness and the frigid air, feeling the coolness on my face, my lips tingling. But the rest of me was still warm from the sauna and the action, and my body was surging with the high of battle and the rush of endorphins.

  One thing I knew was that I had to get on this and find a way to overcome the vampires. But it wasn't that easy. Short of decapitating every one of them there wasn't much that would stop them. And I doubted they'd be up for me doing that. I lacked information on them, on how they operated. More importantly, I lacked knowledge about Mikalus and how he could be resurrected.

  With a sigh, knowing I had little choice if I was to succeed, and wondering if it was time anyway, I got in the car and drove to see someone who I knew would be pleased to see me no matter the time, day or night.

  She was a night owl like me, and she would be up for this in her usual, infuriatingly happy and keen way.

  I went to call on Vicky.

  Geeky Gibberish

  I tapped at the perfectly clean basement window and then cupped my hands to see if Vicky was in there. She was. Hunched over her computer, clacking away furiously like her life depended on it. I tapped again and she turned, rubbed her eye
s, then sauntered over to the window.

  I smiled and her almost childlike face lit up.

  A moment later, I was walking through the door of a basement in a house in suburbia right out of the Stepford Wives. She closed it quickly behind me, locked it, before dashing back to her computer, whispering, "Sorry, be with you in a moment. Pour us some coffee, you look like you need it."

  "Okay, Vicky, sure thing," I said, moving over to the small workbench against the wall with relish. I took in the aroma of coffee as I grabbed two mugs, one with World's Best Mum on it, the other one reading I'm A Mug, Get Over It. I bought her that one. Cool, eh?

  Taking the jug off the heater, I poured us two large mugs of delightfully aromatic filter coffee. Apparently, she put spices in it and used a blend of three beans. It tasted like heaven. Vicky was like that. Everything she did she did well, and everything she did she made her own. Mastered it. And most of what Vicky did drove her absolutely out of her mind with boredom.

  "How's the slug?" I asked, tense muscles relaxing as the hot coffee tickled my taste buds and made everything all right in the world for a moment.

  "Arthur!"

  "Sorry."

  "Don't be, he's making me crazy," said Vicky, pressing Enter with an unnecessary flourish then turning in her chair and taking the coffee I passed her.

  "You look tired," I said, and she did. Her hair was pulled back tight in a perfect ponytail as always, and she had a little makeup on. Vicky would never be seen without it even if she was wearing her pink dressing gown and bunny slippers at two in the morning—you never knew if somebody like me might call—but she looked drawn, a darkness around her eyes and her forehead slightly wrinkled. Not that I'd ever mention the wrinkles, of course. I may have been stupid but not that stupid.

  "I'm fine," she said, gulping her coffee.

  "You lost weight again?" I asked, trying not to make it sound like an accusation. Hey, we all have our issues, and Vicky, perfect wife and mother though she was, was certainly no exception.

  "I'm trying, but it's difficult."

  "I know, honey, I know. For me, for the kids, even for the slug, just make sure you eat enough, okay?"

  "Yes, Dad, will do."

  Vicky had been petite and slender her whole life, but she drove herself too hard. She had a fast metabolism and an even faster brain, and she was trapped. Trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who spent his life with his phone glued to his ear. He was one of those overweight men that carried it badly—weak handshake and weaker morals—and he didn't deserve Vicky. I'm not sure anyone did. She was a nice lady, but a handful, and rather impulsive, but kind, and sweet, just, er, how to put this? Mad as a box of lobotomized frogs.

  She had two kids she doted on and pretty much ran her household single-handed. She fed her family, cleaned up after them, washed dishes and did laundry. Went to PTA meetings, ran the children about in her Prius, even listened to her husband drone on about work endlessly when he was at home, and she did it all for love. Or some of it.

  Vicky did what she thought right for her family, her children, and I was in absolutely no position to judge as my faults far outweighed hers in ways too numerous to list.

  She also struggled with eating disorders because of her obsessive and compulsive nature. She forgot to eat, then binged, then freaked about eating too much, then got stable for a while before slipping back into bad habits and losing an unhealthy amount of weight all over again. Then Vicky panicked and ate more and then worried if she could pinch a little skin at her belly and proceeded to crash diet. It was tough for her, but she tried, and every year she spent longer with a handle on it.

  I don't know how many times I'd told her that a little extra weight was a nice thing, that being soft and curvy was attractive and desirable, but it was stupid and pointless. She knew these things, understood what she did and why, but that's not why we do extreme things in our lives, is it? It isn't out of ignorance, it's because we all have weird crap in our head and we just muddle through, trying our best, aiming to be happy, sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing. Then, if we can, we pick ourselves up and go again the next day.

  We drank in silence, rare when in Vicky's company, enjoying our coffee, both of us lost to our thoughts.

  "Pepper's dead. He got shot this morning. He tried to kill me."

  "Oh, goodie," said Vicky clapping her hands together with glee and spilling her coffee.

  "Vicky! He was my friend, and he double-crossed me. Me! For money! Can you believe it?"

  "I knew he was trouble. Eyes too close together. I told you, warned you. Shifty." She couldn't keep the smile off her face, and it was infectious even though entirely inappropriate.

  "Don't look so happy about it. It ain't right."

  Vicky ignored me and said, "So, can I be your sidekick now? Please. You said I could."

  "I said no such thing," I protested. Vicky had been at me to be my sidekick for years. She wanted a way into this life and I didn't doubt would do anything short of disrupt the life of her kids to do it. She loved all this magic stuff, all the mystery, the excitement and danger, but deep down I always assumed she was joking, that it wasn't what she really wanted.

  Or maybe it was. She certainly seemed keen to be my wingman. Wingwoman, sorry.

  "You said I couldn't be your sidekick because you already had Pepper. Now you don't." She nibbled on her bottom lip.

  Uh-oh.

  "No, please don't. Vicky, anything but that."

  It was too late, the tears began. I couldn't stand it when women cried. It did something to my insides and I felt helpless, like the worst kind of nasty, as if it was all my fault and I was a truly bad man.

  I probably was. Maybe still am.

  "Sorry, sorry. It's not that, it's... Oh, Arthur." Vicky sprang from her chair and launched her pint-sized body at me. She clung tight and I wrapped my arms around her, scared I'd break her. But she was strong and muscular from all her activities and the exercises she did religiously in the living room in front of the TV every morning. What she called her "Me time," but I still worried I'd crush her.

  "Hey, it's okay. What's the matter? Why so sad?"

  She wriggled from my arms and stepped back. "Oh, it's nothing. It's everything. I don't know. Life? Maybe it's just life. I'm just passing time. What do I do? Nothing. Cook and clean and act like a taxi."

  "You stop that right this minute. You do the most important thing in the world. You look after your kids."

  "Maybe," she said, pulling a tissue from up her sleeve. Why she always had a tissue up her sleeve was a mystery I knew I'd never solve. I asked her once and she just stared at me like I was an utter idiot. "In case I need it," was her answer. Can't argue with that. Especially not with Vicky.

  "Hey, come on. Dry those eyes. I have something that'll cheer you up," I said, smiling even though inside all I felt was dread as the night wore on and I'd not even begun to deal with the rather pressing problem of a resurrected vampire.

  "Sorry, I'm being silly. What is it? Something gross?"

  Vicky did like the gross stuff. "Very," I said. "What do you know about Mikalus' ashes, or Mikalus in general?"

  "Oh my God, oh my God! You found them, didn't you? I knew you were good. I can't believe it, this is so awesome. He's like the most powerful, dangerous vampire there has ever been. The first vampire to walk the earth, a real monster. He's the only one that can bring them back from the weak position they now hold. They dwindle year on year and become less and less effective and there's no way that can change without him being resurrected. Can I see? Can I see?" Vicky was falling over herself with excitement. Babbling non-stop and making what I had to say next even harder.

  "Um, I gave the ashes to the vampires." That put a damper on the situation, and then some.

  "You utter idiot."

  "I know."

  "You've doomed us all."

  "I know, all right?" I said, exasperated. "Still, beats being bored, right?" And with that we burst out laughing.
>
  Maybe it was the coffee.

  A Temporary Arrangement

  I filled a very excitable Vicky in on what exactly had gone down and my thoughts on the whole sorry mess. The latter didn't take long, mainly because I had none beyond "Ugh."

  "Okay, wait. Let me make sure I have this straight. You planned to give the ashes to Nigel, but Nigel's brother shot him because he knew Nigel was going to give them to the vampires?"

  "Yes."

  "Then this Nathan told you they both worked for Cerberus, and that they'd tried to kill you, too, to get the ashes?"

  "Yes, kind of. Look, he didn't tell me what I had. If he'd just done that then none of this would have happened."

  "So why didn't he?"

  "Dunno. Guess he figured I was a bad guy and wouldn't hand it over if I knew. He seemed panicked, now I think about it. Not outwardly, but if he sent that lesser demon to try to get rid of me, you can bet he was working alone. It was a pretty lame attempt, especially for the Hounds. I reckon he's been out on his own on this one, found out about his brother, freaked, called a few people to deal with it, and then hopped on a train or whatever and got here as fast as he could."

  "Why not tell his fellow Hounds? And that's such a stupid name."

  "I know, right? As to why all the secrecy, who knows? Maybe he just wanted it kept quiet. Save his brother's, and his, reputation, I guess. And when the goons failed to get me he came himself, just to make sure. But that blew up in his face, too, and my guess is that now he's desperate and will be running out of time. Cerberus will have heard about Nigel, it was pretty messy, so Nathan will be in deep shit if he doesn't give a good explanation. Either he tells them what's happened, or he'll do something desperate to get me out of principle."

  "What about Sasha, does she know?" Vicky smiled at the mention of Sasha. They'd met a few times over the years, and although Vicky took some convincing about the whole faery godmother thing, she couldn't really ignore the fact Sasha could just turn up wherever she wanted. It was only her sense of politeness that made her act even remotely human.