Black Moon (The Moonlight Trilogy)

by Teri Harman

  Then the connection settled, normalized.

  The air hissed in disgust.

  The Binding completed.

  Chapter 38

  Black Moon

  July—Present Day

  First, there was silence, a slimy, thick silence that saturated the air and smothered all sound.

  Then cold, a biting, vengeful sting of wind that brought with it the most horrible feeling of hopelessness and loss.

  The ocean turned to ice, the curls of the waves frozen in grim white snarls. The echoes of the groans and cracks of the flash-frozen ice cut through the silence, sounding like the cries of wounded on a battlefield.

  The earth suddenly jerked under Willa’s feet, and then there were too many sounds to hear at once. The trees screamed out in protest, and the ground shook, disgusted at the betrayal. The tortured ghosts wailed. The Light witches all fell to the sand, unable to stand with the continuous tremors and quakes.

  Yet Archard and his newborn Covenant stood strong, untouched by the aftermath of their Binding.

  Birds fell from the sky, frozen to death. They hit the sand all around the Light covens, eyes staring wide in shock. Willa buried her face in Simon’s chest, wanting to wail in agony, run away.

  Rowan mumbled that they must move closer together to protect themselves from the cold and the quakes. Whole sections of the beach had split into great chasms, swallowing everything on top. Rocks and boulders fell from the surrounding cliffs, some rolling dangerously close to where the Light witches huddled in their prison.

  There is nothing we can do, Willa thought. Our magic is completely useless.

  Through nature’s chaos, Archard’s triumphant cry rang loud, more chilling than any noise that came before. Willa’s chest still ached with an empty throb at the loss of their Covenant bond.

  What will we do?

  She peered through the fiery bars, trying to pick out Solace’s face. Willa could think of nothing more terrible than her sweet friend and all the other great witches locked into a perverse Dark Covenant, some pulled from their comfortable after-life, now puppets in Archard’s twisted scheme. Bile burned her throat. All Solace wanted was peace, and now this . . .

  The earth grew quiet once again, retreating from the beating it had sustained, crawling away to mourn. Archard turned and sauntered toward them. Everyone around her stiffened. Charlotte moaned in fear; Willa took her hand.

  As Archard drew closer, Rowan stood, instructing everyone else to stay where they were. Archard stopped directly in front of him, his slick black hair and trimmed goatee frosted with ice, but his face flushed red. One scar, an echo of what he’d endured in the cave, curled at the edge of his right eye like a warning. Something had changed in his eyes, something Willa wouldn’t have thought possible. They’d grown colder, with a chilling depth, almost impossible to look at straight on.

  “It is done,” Archard said proudly, his voice rippling with triumphant pleasure. He held out his hands, sparking with black pops of his new magic. “You would not believe this power!”

  Rowan said nothing.

  Archard smirked. “And so now, Rowan,” he twisted the name, drawing it out in mockery, “it is time to be rid of you and all your coven-mates.” He waved his right hand, twisted and red with more recent scars, at the covens. “And I think I’ll start with . . .” Those penetrating eyes moved around the circle and stopped at Willa. “The pretty Dreamer.”

  Before Simon could blink, Willa’s body was ripped from his hold. The flaming bars parted for a split second to let her out and then returned to trap him behind. Her startled, terrified scream cut open his heart. He jumped to his feet and moved to the bars, wrapping his hands around them despite the searing pain of his flesh burning.

  “Willa!”

  Archard chuckled as he set his fathomless eyes on Simon. With his arms around Willa, pulling her back against him, the Dark witch dropped his lips close to her ear. “Willa, is it? Remember me? I once had a wonderful time breaking into this beautiful head.” He trailed a finger down her cheek; she pressed her eyes closed tight.

  Simon pulled on the bars with all his strength, crying out as the flames reached down to the bones of his hands. The voice in his head escalated to a yell, End it! Do it now!

  Simon preferred the pain of his hands burning to the struggle of pushing aside the now too alluring urge to use his healing powers to end another life. But, looking at Willa, feeling her pure terror and Archard’s unwavering intent to kill her slowly and painfully, there was no question as to what his decision would be.

  Rowan’s voice cut through Simon’s thoughts. “Archard, take me instead. Take me as a prisoner. You can torture me for a lifetime, just let my covens go unharmed.”

  Simon dropped his hands from the bars, ignoring the throbbing flesh as it quickly repaired itself. “Rowan, no—” Simon started, but Rowan held up a hand. Wynter gripped her soul mate’s arm, weeping silent tears, shaking her head.

  Archard laughed loudly, throwing his head back. He took a chunk of Willa’s hair in his hand, pulling her head, forcing her to look at him. Simon pressed his teeth together, marveling at how Willa managed to meet the witch’s eyes without making a sound. “Do you hear that, Willa? Your Luminary is ready to valiantly (and predictably) give up his life to endless pain for you. Should I let him do it?”

  “No,” was all Willa answered, her voice thin, but steady.

  Archard nodded. “Well, I agree with you. As fun as it might be, killing you while he, your hulk of a soul mate, and all your coven-mates watch will be a far sweeter pleasure. And then, I think I’ll take Wynter next. Do you think Rowan will survive it, Willa?”

  Willa did not give him the pleasure of an answer. Archard sneered at her defiance. “Simon,” he called. “It is Simon, if I remember correctly from our little rendezvous in the cave last fall. Is her flesh as sweet as it looks?” Archard put his face to Willa’s neck, inhaled dramatically and then kissed the vulnerable skin over her racing pulse. For the first time a whimper escaped Willa’s mouth as Archard’s lips left behind a round, angry burn mark.

  Simon’s boiling anger overtook his senses, and he threw himself against the bars. His clothes and skin hissed on contact, but the prison held. Archard laughed and then, pushing Willa with him, stepped close to the bars.

  “Shall I kiss her again, Simon? Her skin tastes sweet like . . .” he licked his lips, “lavender. I think I’ll taste every inch of it.” Archard dropped his mouth close to his previous mark. Willa squirmed and whimpered again.

  “NO!” Simon yelled.

  Archard drew back slightly. “Willa, my dear, say goodbye to Simon.”

  Willa’s bright blue eyes, spilling over with terrified tears, met Simon’s. His soul screamed. She should never have that look in her eyes, and he knew it would haunt him forever. Save her! Something inside Simon snapped. The fight over, all hesitation gone. He had given Rowan a chance to stop it, he’d tried to break free, but now there was only one thing to do.

  Simon gave in.

  The relief of it ran through his blood like a narcotic, sweet and intoxicating. He exhaled, steady now. The pounding in his head stopped.

  Archard moved to hurt Willa again, dropping his thin lips to her neck.

  “Archard,” Simon said quietly, standing behind the bars, fists at his sides. The Dark witch lifted his head, eyes narrowed with surprise. “Let her go.” Archard immediately let Willa go, but looked completely confused as to why.

  Willa dropped to the sand, blinking up at Simon.

  “Simon . . .” she whispered, but he did not hear.

  “Drop the bars,” Simon commanded next, and the bars fell. The rest of his coven-mates stared as wide-eyed as Archard, even took a step away from Simon. Not even Rowan tried to stop him.

  Simon calmly stepped forward to face Archard, who cowered slightly, looking up at the witch towering over him. “What is this?” Archard hissed.

  “This is your death,” Simon answered calmly. “One yo
u cannot come back from.”

  Archard looked as if he would say something more, but instead his face drained of color; his eyes locked with Simon’s. Simon placed a hand on the witch’s chest. Beneath his palm he felt the frightened flutter of Archard’s heart, the easy push and suck of his black blood. A ripple of warmth moved from Simon’s hand to Archard’s heart, and the chambers seized shut. Archard managed a pathetic moan before collapsing to the sand, eyes frozen wide in disbelief.

  Mildly shocked at how easy it’d been, Simon stared unemotionally down at Archard’s dead body.

  A shrill yell rose up from the circle of ghosts as the bands of white light shattered, releasing them. Rachel stood as still as a statue, too shocked to move or flee. Simon lifted a hand and swept it through the air. Rachel’s neck snapped violently to the side, and she too fell to the sand.

  Lifting both arms out to his sides, Simon levitated the bodies of the two Dark witches and, with a swift thrust of his hands, he sent the corpses sailing far out to sea, until they were out of sight.

  Simon then turned and scooped Willa up into his arms. She tightly hugged him back but whispered in his ear, “What have you done?”

  Chapter 39

  Black Moon

  July—Present Day

  Oh, Simon what have you done?! Willa warred between feeling immensely relieved and sick to her stomach. Simon had used the power he feared and hated most. He’d saved her—saved them all—but how would it change him? How would he handle having taken life on purpose? Even if it was Archard, dead and cast out to sea.

  Simon pulled back and took her face in his hands. “Are you all right? Let me see your neck.” He placed a hand over the burn mark. When he withdrew, the redness was gone, but a round scar remained. He tried again, but still the circle of white skin stayed. He frowned. “There’s a scar,” he said solemnly. “I can’t fix it.”

  Willa lifted her hand and felt the raised ridge of skin. As if the memory of this night weren’t damaging enough . . . “At least you stopped him.”

  Simon still frowned at the scar. “I’m sorry I let him hurt you. I should have acted sooner. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Willa dropped her hand from the scar, too disgusted to touch it anymore. She looked up at him, searching his face.

  Simon lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her urgently. Willa wanted to savor the kiss, but her worry got in the way. When Simon pulled back, she said, “Are you okay?”

  He gave a small smile. “I think so. I feel . . . normal. Better than I have in months. Is that weird?”

  “I don’t know.” Yes. She studied his eyes. Was there something different or was it just the shadows?

  The ghosts appeared at their sides, no longer looking like hollow threads of liquid, but instead just as Willa always saw them. “Solace!” Willa yelled. “Are you okay? Are any of you hurt?” Willa moved her eyes to Ruby, Amelia, and the rest of the group. Holmes was not among them. Where had he gone? Back to hell, I hope.

  “Sweet Willa,” Solace said. “We are fine now. Thanks to Simon.” She paused to smile at him. “But it was so unbelievably awful. I was sitting in my chair reading, and then this fiery pain in my chest started. For a split second I thought that I was crossing over. Next thing I knew I stood in a cemetery, looking at that Dark witch.” She looked out to the ocean.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what had happened. I had no idea. If I had . . .”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Ruby said. She looked exactly as she had in the fall with her old-fashioned red dress, regal face, and long auburn hair. “We are free now and can return home. All of us.”

  Solace smiled, radiating joy. “Willa, as terrible as it was, there is one good thing that comes of this.”

  “You can cross over,” Willa said, forcing a smile.

  “Yes, isn’t it marvelous?” Solace put a hand on her heart. “Both Amelia and I, we’ve been trapped, but you know that. And look, I’m with my parents again, and I have all my memories. Of course, they are not all good.” She turned to Simon. “I’m so glad you are the one who has my powers. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather carry my magic.”

  Simon nodded respectfully. “Thank you, Solace. It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.” He smiled, and the ghost smiled back.

  Willa sighed, a sense of relief daring to set in. “Oh, Solace. I’m so happy for you. But can I ask a question?” Her friend nodded. “If you died at the cave, why have you been at the museum all these years?”

  Camille stepped forward, tall and graceful with dark blonde hair and blue eyes, the same happy round face as her daughter. “That was me. I tried to call Solace’s soul away from the cave, but the spell was interrupted.”

  “You did the spell at the Museum?” Willa asked, intrigued.

  “Yes. Our Covenant’s meeting room was once there.” Camille looked at her daughter and smiled. “It was wrong of me to use Otherworld magic, but I am glad it brought Solace to you.”

  Willa smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Me, too.”

  Amelia moved closer and looked up at Simon. “Thank you, Simon. That wretched man deserved to die, had to die, to end what he started. I shudder to think what would have happened had he been left to rule his Covenant. But I must say . . .” She paused and studied his face as if looking deep inside him.

  “What is it, Amelia?” Willa prompted. Simon stared at the ghost expectantly.

  “There is a shadow . . .” was all the ghost said and then turned to Willa. “Find my Lilly, Willa. She’s lost her way, pushed aside the magic. Help her come back.”

  Willa blinked in surprise. “I’ll try, Amelia, but I don’t know if I can find her.”

  “I promise that you will know her when you see her. Listen to your instincts.”

  “We must go now,” Ruby said, taking Amelia’s hand. “The Otherworld is eager to correct this heinous mistake. We are not the only ones who’ve been trapped in that box.” Ruby gestured to another group of ghosts who hovered above an iron box sitting in the sand. Even from far away, Willa could see that they smiled and talked excitedly to each other.

  Willa leaned close to Ruby. “Are those the souls that were trapped by Bartholomew? The witch I saw in my dreams?”

  Ruby nodded, her hair floating up with the movement. “Yes. Poor things. Trapped in that box for hundreds of years.” She shook her head. “Such terrible magic.”

  Willa shuddered with the memory of the dream and a flash of Bartholomew’s face.

  Ruby turned back to her. “It was good to see you again, Willa.”

  “Thank you, Ruby.” Willa turned to her best friend, her tears spilling over and heart aching. “I’ll never see you again.”

  Solace smiled. “Not never, Willa. Thank you for being so wonderful and keeping me company. I owe you so much.”

  “You owe me nothing. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.”

  Then, in a blink of an eye, they vanished, Ruby’s group and the others—all gone. Willa turned her face into Simon’s chest, and he held her as she cried. Behind them, the ocean broke through the ice, the air now warming, and rushed back to the shore, eager to recommence its eternal rhythm.

  After a moment, Simon tensed, and she pulled back. “What’s wrong?” she sniffed. Staring off down the beach, an odd mixture of emotions played on his face. “Simon?”

  He blinked and looked back at her. “The book,” he whispered.

  “What?” Willa sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  “The grimoire Archard used—it’s still there on the beach.”

  Willa turned. The book lay open in the sand, the breeze coming off the sea rustling the pages. “Holy moon! Bartholomew’s grimoire. Simon, he is the witch I’ve been seeing in my dreams.”

  Simon’s eyes widened in understanding. “We certainly can’t leave that behind.”

  “No. We better tell Rowan—”

  “No,” Simon interrupted. Willa narrowed her eyes at him. “I
just mean—look—he’s got Rain and Hazel to look after.” Simon shifted his eyes to Rowan and Wynter standing over Rain’s body. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Willa bit her lower lip. She hated the idea of having that book anywhere near them, but even more of Simon being the one to take care of it. “Umm, okay.”

  Immediately, Simon ran over and scooped the book up into his arms. Willa watched uneasily as he carefully closed the tome and slipped the thick metal clasps into place. With only the stars to light the black night, Willa wasn’t sure, but it looked like he smiled as he did it.

  Rowan lifted Rain’s cold, blood-stained body from the sand and cradled her tenderly in his arms. Toby did the same with Hazel’s. “Time to go,” Rowan said and then started toward the forest. The group fell silently into step behind him. Willa and Simon hurried to find their shoes, left in the sand before the mirror spell, and then followed the group up into the trees..

  The feeling of separation was worse than before. In turn, each of the Light witches glanced back at Simon with fearful, wondering eyes. Although each look stung her heart, Willa couldn’t blame them. What Simon had done didn’t even make sense to her.

  Walking hand in hand with Simon through the dark trees, Willa stole her own questioning looks at him. The weariness and tension had left his eyes, and his hand was dry and warm in hers. And that black, abominable book was tucked securely under his arm. She opened her mouth several times to say something, but always snapped her jaw shut again, unsure of what exactly to say or ask. Simon too seemed lost in his own head, quietly looking around at the gigantic trees, occasionally glancing at her when he thought she couldn’t see.

  Back at the rented SUVs, the bodies were placed carefully in the back of the one Rowan was driving. He covered them in a blanket and then moved his hand over, casting a spell of preservation that would hold until they could return the witches to their families. Willa wanted to cry again but held back the tears.