Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  Voordim (VOOR·deem) – the pantheon of gods in Dizhelim. It does not include the modern god Vanda.

  About the Author

  A chemical engineer by degree, air quality engineer by vocation, certified dreamer by predilection, and writer by sheer persistence, P.E. Padilla learned long ago that crunching numbers and designing solutions was not enough to satisfy his creative urges. Weaned on classic science fiction and fantasy stories from authors as diverse as Heinlein, Tolkien, and Jordan, and affected by his love of role playing games such as Dungeons and Dragons (analog) and Final Fantasy (digital), he sometimes has trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy. While not ideal for a person who needs to function in modern society, it’s the perfect state of mind for a writer. He also writes young adult action & adventure novels under the pen name Eric Padilla, and lives in Southern California, though he would like to be where there are more trees.

  Read More from P.E. Padilla

  http://pepadilla.com/

  Iridescent Moon

  Ainsley Shay

  Iridescent Moon © copyright 2017 Ainsley Shay

  Iridescent Moon is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means. The scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at Skelsidepress@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Edited by: Dragonfly Editing

  Cover by: Steven Novak

  Iridescent Moon / Ainsley Shay.—1st Edition

  Iridescent Moon

  Ancient gypsy magic is more than powerful; it’s deadly.

  Sworn by blood to protect the Irizat Luna, Protector Jeta must keep the magical relic out of malicious hands or risk its powers being compromised for evil. As the danger nears, Jeta’s only recourse is to rely on her own abilities and hope they’re strong enough to stop the looming threat.

  Hired to find the Irizat Luna, Relic Hunter Traer Sharp employs his keen abilities with unwavering resolve at the expense of anyone who gets in his way. This mission may be his most difficult yet. The Protectors are a force to be reckoned with, and one that will not go down without a fight.

  Death is never far from the realm of possibility. Jeta knows there’s no escaping the inevitable, but it’s either fall prey to a wicked world intent on revenge or risk everything, including her life, to protect the relic.

  Death Bird

  The death bird screeched overhead. Its long, drawn-out cry pierced the quiet darkness in the cemetery. Staying close to the dead had kept us safe... until now. The first night the cries echoed off the statues and tombstones, we ignored them. Surrounding the blazing fire in the pit, we instead concentrated on the silent space between its shrieks. The splintering and crackling wood was a thin distraction to what was coming. The horrifying sounds had turned the sweet night air into a putrid scent. My blood sped through my veins as the death bird shrilled once more. The knife on my garter had, before, always made me feel safe; it hadn’t that night, or the two nights that followed.

  When the calls rained down on us on the second night, Plamen’s concerned eyes met mine. I looked away from his crystalized stare to hide the fear shown in mine. I let denial continue to play its role. When the shriek echoed through the shadows on the third night, we couldn’t disregard what was coming. Disbelief and hopeful doubt was etched on the face of the other Protector, Kem. He tilted his head toward the star-speckled sky. Reluctantly, I glanced up as well. Silhouetted wings glided against the backdrop of a full silver moon. Icy and foreboding chills raced along my skin. Two sets of eyes fell heavily on my back. I refused to look at either of them, as their dread sank to the bottom of my gut like a heavy stone. In the very near future, one of us would meet death.

  An eerie and haunting feeling settled over us, like creeping fog. I wished I could freeze time to keep us, the Protectors, in just this moment...safe. Fearing the looks of the men surrounding me, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet theirs. Instead, I closed my eyes. My skin shivered as the smoldering embers dwindled when a warm, damp breeze drifted by.

  I opened my eyes. A cloud floated over the moon, laying shadows at our feet. My men depended on me; having their confidence in me wane would be suicide for us all. Finally, I lifted my head and looked at them. I kept my voice steady and void of emotion. “Kem, at first light tomorrow, shift, stake out the grounds and the nearby forest to see if anything’s off, or if we’ve had any unknown visitors.” As expected, he nodded.

  Plamen arced his blade over the diminishing fire. Resilient flames rose high into the air. “Jeta, you know what this means?” He wasn’t asking a question, he was confirming my thoughts mirrored his. I picked up my satchel, and walked away from the men I governed. I knew exactly what it meant. It wasn’t time to leave for another month. But, we had no choice, the death bird not only brought the news one of us would die soon, it also warned us danger was coming, or already here. “Jeta,” Plamen called after me.

  My hand was on the door of our small cottage when I turned around. “We leave tomorrow.” I heard their grunts over the crackling fire, and the shrieks of the death bird circling above. The doorknob squeaked as I turned it. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against the frame and let out a long breath. If we were being tracked, it had taken a full force of vigorous determination for someone, or something, to find us. I started down the hall to my bedroom. I pushed the door open and closed it behind me.

  Kneeling, I pried up a loose plank from the floorboard. Reaching inside, I stroked the silk scarf sewn with tiny beads and sequins. My fingers grazed the fabric and I felt comfort knowing what we vowed with our lives to protect was still safe. If we were being hunted, what was wrapped in the silk had to be what they wanted. I slid the board back into place, sat back on my heels, and pulled out the band that held my hair. An unorthodox amount of long, thin, blonde dreadlocks fell around my shoulders, and down my back. I gathered myself, and craned and stretched my neck to release some of the tension building in my muscles.

  The front door opened and slammed shut. “Jeta,” Plamen shouted. I went out into the hall. Plamen took only four long strides to reach me. “Where do we go from here?”

  I hadn’t a clue. The sad part was it was my job to know, in order to keep the Protectors and the relic safe. This was the first time I didn’t know what our next move was. Plamen’s hard stare wanted an answer. His dark eyes were hooded under a mass of black hair. I crossed my arms and held his tight glare. “North. We head toward Rapture.” It wasn’t a complete answer or even close to what he was expecting, but it was all I could offer. Tomorrow would come, and by the light of day, we would once again be on the move.

  Plamen would be the one to argue with me, and I was surprised when he didn’t. “I’ll let Kem know.” His gaze held mine for a beat longer before he turned away.

  I went back into my room and shut the door. Tonight would prove impossible, like many before it, to grasp hold of uninterrupted sleep that wasn’t filled with horror and waking in cold sweats. This small town and cottage had given us security, I felt safe here, which was a rare feeling to possess in my profession. I pulled aside the thin curtain. The crumbling stone of tombstones and statues were our reminder death was never far away. It was impossible to run from death, and we knew not to pretend we could. Danger was coming, the death bird’s outcry had told us as much. But tonight, it had never felt so close. I glanced up at the moon. Studying it had spawned a new fear to spread into every cell of my body. The black moon was stil
l forty-five days away. That was a long time to be on the run.

  Star Crystal

  I woke before the sun had risen. It’s been a ritual of mine for most of my life. Even when my restlessness had finally surrendered to sleep around three, I still woke a couple of hours later. As the day went on, I knew fatigue would slither itself into everything I had to do to get us on the road. Easing the front door open, I went out onto the porch. I walked toward the cemetery. I wasn’t what some called a “people person,” so I enjoyed the dead as our neighbors. They were quiet, kept to themselves, most of the time, and they kept our secret.

  Evidence that Kem had already begun checking out the nearby forest was at my feet. Paw prints lead to the opening of the forest. The air was moist and slightly cool for this time of year. July in the south should have its own temperature gage. My bare feet sank into the damp earth as I walked through the cemetery. I stroked the edge of Marie Hathaway’s tombstone. Its jagged edge threatened to tear the tips of my fingers. I pulled back my hand and rubbed away the uncomfortable feeling. Marie’s story was an interesting one. She had been a lone gypsy. Many envied her great magic. She wandered to exotic and mystical places. People knew what she was the moment they saw her. They begged her to charm them, break a spell, bring them good fortune, heal a dying brother, but she never did. Her magic was gifted to her, and to her alone. It hurt her heart, but she knew if she helped one, she had to help everyone, and that was impossible. She was a strong woman who was too brave, or afraid, to fall in love. The day it happened, it was raining. Marie was walking through the small city of Alexandria. Her head was down as she made her way toward one of the tents in the market. She had only a little ways to go when flowers suddenly appeared at her feet. Someone had thrown them down, blocking her path. When she looked up, she was not too proud, or afraid to fall for the man who stood in front of her. Rain cascaded down her cheeks, swirling with tears of joy. “I’m Gavin,” he had said. “I have loved you forever, and here you are.” Yep, they lived the happily ever after, the end. That may, or may not have been Marie Hathaway’s real story, but it’s the one I imagined for her. Sometimes, I imagined, I was her.

  I had created a life for each one of the dead. Some were musicians, others were artists, there were fathers, and mothers. If I liked the name enough, like Mason Thorn, they became a distant family member or a king of some beautiful faraway place I may venture to one day. But, that day was not today. The days ahead would, if in our favor, be uneventful. I had a deep, unsettling feeling that was not going to be the case. One could always hope for peace, but it was the disharmony and threats that would find us this time.

  I caught my breath when I heard rustling in the trees to my right. I was deep in the cemetery, close to the edge of the forest. When I looked down, Kem’s tracks weren’t there. I must have fallen off of them a ways back. I hadn’t realized how far I had walked. The rustling got louder. In its unsettling danger, I knelt behind a statue. My heart thudded and I placed my hand over the sheathed dagger, which hung from the bag strapped to my thigh. I hadn’t had to use it in months. Although I was skilled enough to know how to fight and defend, I hadn’t practiced in some time. And, I hoped I wouldn’t need to prove my skills worthy now.

  “Jeta, your stealth could use some work.”

  I spun around to see a naked Kem. He stood before me without embarrassment or shame. I didn’t look away. He was worthy of every glance he received, also, knowing he had just moments before been a wolf and now was human, had always fascinated me. “You’re the one causing the entire forest to shake,” I retorted, as I tried to tuck away the uneasiness and slight fear I had felt. The death bird had put me on edge, and I hated the winged creature for it.

  Kem reached for something behind one of the tombstones. He turned around and pulled on the pair of jeans. As he bent to retrieve something else, my curiosity grew. He strode over to me with the dead thing in his hand. “I found this.”

  I jumped back. “It couldn’t be—how—” I stammered. I wanted to yell at him to get that thing away from me, but as a leader, I restrained. In the last twenty-four hours, my authority lacked what was needed to do my job. Taking a deep breath, I gathered the strength and intelligence that got me to the position I held. I reached for the black owl, the death bird. It was heavy, as I held it up by its leg, turning it around to study it. Its body had been sliced from neck to belly; the mutilation was more than intentional, it was a message. Black feathers were matted in the blood still oozing from the slash. “Kem, please tell me your wolfie claws or K-9’s did this.”

  His face was grim and I knew what his answer was before he said it. He shook his head. “I found it like that.” The wound was fresh, indicating our hunter or hunters were still very close.

  The sun glinted off of something shiny in the bird’s gut. Cradling the creature, I reached into the gash. When I pulled it out, I didn’t need to wash away the blood to see what I held. It was a diopside crystal—otherwise known as a star crystal, used to hex another into letting down their guard. We, the Protectors had our charms in place to ward off hexes like this. Whoever had left the dead bird and crystal knew we would find it. Did that mean they knew Kem was a shifter? “Was there anything else? Footprints, scents, any sign of who did this?” My instincts to protect, find, and kill any threat was in overdrive.

  “No.”

  I lowered the bird to my side and together we walked in silence back to the cottage. When the owl flew high above us, warning us danger and death were near, it wasn’t nearly as foreboding as the weight of the dead creature in my hand. It delivered a message far worse. Our luck had gone from very bad, to the worst kind, in the time it took the moon to cross the night sky. It had been centuries since our kind had known real danger; whoever, or whatever was hunting us, had found us.

  Protect

  The death bird had been killed and mutilated. Our hunter had to know our beliefs and the curses that caused us weakness. As Kem and I climbed the porch steps, Plamen came out of the cottage. He saw the black owl in my hand and froze. There was nothing that could be said to ease the edginess I saw radiating off of him. I held up the star crystal in my other hand.

  “This was tucked nicely in its gut.”

  Plamen didn’t say anything. He walked past Kem and drew his knife. I hoped the fire he created would put him in a place where he could focus. I’d let him have a moment to cool down. But, if it lasted too long, I’d have to beckon him. It was time to move. Kem went inside and cleaned up. I glanced back to the forest, hoping to see a glimpse of whoever had laid death at our feet. There was nothing except for trees.

  Packing and preparing the house for our departure would be easy. As Protectors, we didn’t have much more than what we needed to survive. There was no one to say goodbye to or to let know we were leaving. We were without names in this town. We were only faces the locals occasionally saw when we needed food or other necessities. Sometimes even then we would venture farther, into the larger cities to get what we needed. We were a mystery, and we liked it that way. Since we didn’t create trouble and kept to ourselves, they usually left us alone.

  With our unique looks, we blended better in the larger cities, but we couldn't keep close tabs on what we were sworn to protect. Living in a small community was easier to know if danger was coming. Except this time it had sneaked up on us. That gave us even more reason to suspect someone within our small family of gypsies had betrayed us. The guys and I hadn’t discussed this possibility yet. But, I knew both of them better than anyone, and I knew they had thought the same thing. I planned to bring it up when we got on the road to head north.

  I laid the dead owl on the table and sat down. I still had to pack, but I couldn’t get over the creature in front of me. The scent of its blood should have made me gag, but I felt numb, and indifferent to the scent of death. Plamen came in, the hilt of his blade in his palm. I peeked around him to see the blaze of the fire, but there was none. I looked at him in confusion. Fire had always
been the way Plamen worked through his emotions. There was only one other time I had seen him this distressed and shaken. He would have exploded into a thousand sharp pieces if he hadn’t played with his fire.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  He lunged for the black bird and yanked it off the table. “This—this is what I’m thinking! Whoever killed this thing was letting us know, one; they found us, and two; there’s a traitor among our people.” He was yelling now, his voice boomed through the house. “They know what this means to us and worse still—” he thrust the bird toward me, “since this thing gave us warning, they’ve known where we are and they have made no move. Why is that?”

  I shook my head. He was right, it didn’t make sense. “I’ll try to contact Inerique; maybe she’ll know who’s looking for the Irizat Luna.”

  Plamen tossed the bird on the table and went to his room. “I’ll pack and then prepare the house. Do whatever you need to with water and electric before I turn it off.”

  He was worse off than I thought. Plamen was tough; he was also realistic and had a keen sense for seeing all angles of a situation. Unfortunately, there were no good outlooks this time. Everything he said had been right. We had one goal; get the Irizat Luna to Rapture in time for the black moon.

  Kem came out of the bathroom. His long hair was damp and clung to his bare back. “What was that all about?”