Moon of Shadows

by H. D. Gordon

  Things between Kyra and I were still tense. I didn’t like it, but that was the way it was, nonetheless. I still felt betrayed over the fact that she’d sided with Devon, and since she was the one at the head of our distillery operation, and I’d agreed to stay away from the business, we had little to discuss.

  I didn’t even tell her about my interesting encounters with Elian, which made me sadder than I would ever admit. The Sorceress and I had been best friends for well over a decade, and if I had a sister beyond my sisters, she was it, so not being able to tell her things felt bad.

  And that was to say nothing of my relationship with Devon. We’d hardly spoken two words to each other since I’d warned him about Cartier’s visit to the bar. This, of everything that was happening, hurt the very most of all.

  But a week indeed passed without my firm grip on the reins, and the world did not burst into flames, nor did the stars fall from the sky.

  Perhaps I’d been wrong about Devon’s ability to deal with Cartier, because they came to some deal I didn’t want to know about, and everything seemed to be going smoothly.

  Smoothly enough, in fact, that Devon was invited to Cartier’s Spring Ball at the Grand Hall in Cerys. The invitation arrived by bottle three days before the event, the paper it had been printed on thick and creamy.

  I was sitting on the front porch watching the twins run around the hedges and kick up gravel as they raced down the drive. The blue glass bottle popped into appearance near the front doors. The smell of magic singed the air, and beside me, Zara shielded her eyes from the warm sun and looked over at the arrival.

  “Fancy,” she said, nodding toward the waiting bottle. “Someone with money sent that.”

  Nyla was nearest, and she plucked the bottle up and held it out to me. Since we didn’t know too many people with the money to send messages by magic, I shook my head.

  “Take it to my brother,” I said. “He’s the boss around here.”

  Nyla and Zara both gave me looks as though this were not true, but the former retreated into the house to deliver it to Devon, anyway.

  A moment later, Devon joined us on the porch, holding the creamy paper from the bottle in his hands.

  “Cartier is having a ball,” he said.

  I sipped at the sarsaparilla in my glass, my eyes on the twins as they played under the sun. “Good for him.”

  “He’s invited us,” Devon added.

  I looked at him now, pretending not to care that things were not right between us. I waved a hand. “Then have a great time,” I said.

  Devon released a sigh that would not have been audible to normal ears. “He’s also requested your presence,” he added.

  My eyebrows rose. I held a hand out for the letter. “Me? Why?”

  Devon passed over the letter, and sure enough, I was requested by name, along with Devon, to attend.

  I tossed the note back at my brother, who snatched it out of the air before it could flutter to the porch.

  “It’s likely on behalf of that pale bastard, Arsen Bain,” I said, and shook my head. I fought a shiver against the thought of the last time I’d seen the male, and the inappropriate things he liked to whisper into my head. “I’d just assume not.”

  “Dita, you need to come,” Devon said. “Our dealings with Cartier are going well, and we need to show goodwill.”

  “Goodwill?” I said. “Isn’t buying a third of our stock of shine from him when we have more than enough of our own already enough goodwill?”

  Devon’s lips pressed together as I really looked at him for the first time in weeks. Now that I was, I noticed that he looked more weary than usual. His dark hair was still combed and styled to perfection, and his clothes neat and tidy, but there was a set to his shoulders that hadn’t been present before.

  I took another sip of my sarsaparilla and looked back out over the yard. Gerald had mentioned the arrangement by accident, and I’d filled in the rest for myself.

  “I wasn’t aware you were privy to the details of our deal,” Devon said tightly.

  I snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

  Zara and Nyla, clever little Wolves that they were, slipped off the porch to go play with the twins, escaping the tension that was building between my older brother and me.

  “Damn it, Dita, just come to the Gods damned ball with me,” Devon snapped.

  My temper threatened to rise up, but instead, I released a slow breath and held my hands up. “Fine,” I said. “You’re the boss, remember?”

  “And sometimes you can be such a bitch,” Devon mumbled as he stalked back into the house and let the screen slam shut behind him.

  I leaned back in my seat, calling out to him. “Congratulations on being one of the few people I’d let walk away after calling me that,” I said.

  From beyond the closed door, I heard my brother’s low growl, and his heavy footsteps as they climbed the staircase in the foyer.

  “You don’t have to be so hard on him, D,” Kyra said as she walked around from the side of the house. “He’s trying really hard.”

  I stood from my seat and told Zara and Nyla that I was going in, and to keep an eye on the twins.

  Then I met my old friend’s gaze. “You’ll have to forgive my lack of sympathy,” I replied, and went inside the house before she could further comment.

  “I will not,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “I’ll look ridiculous.”

  Devon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All the females will be wearing a similar fashion,” he said.

  I resisted the urge to make some snotty comment about his knowledge of such things. The last time I’d been forced to don such an outfit, it had been at the bequest of Lukas Borden, to attend his Winter Harvest Ball. I hadn’t been comfortable with it then, and I still wasn’t comfortable with it now.

  “I can’t even fight in that thing,” I argued.

  “Well, it’s a good thing we’re only going to dance.”

  I scoffed. “I already agreed to come. I don’t see why I can’t wear my pants and boots and my jacket. I won’t be able to hide my guns in that.”

  Devon got a look on his face at that, and my eyes narrowed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You could let me hold them,” he said. “I could easily hide them in my attire.”

  My back stiffened. Our father had given me the weapons. I remembered the day well, and had no doubt that Devon remembered it, too. With the irons, our father had solidified my stance as Alpha should anything ever happen to him. I had taken the guns with the understanding that I was to be the protector of the whole family.

  Part of me had wondered if my big brother would have the balls to ask for them, to make more permanent his new agreed upon position in our Pack.

  I sucked at my teeth a moment, eyeing him as he held my stare. Then, I unbuckled the holsters around my waist and handed the weapons over.

  Devon took them with a reverence that made my jaw clench.

  Cursing the heavens, I grabbed the stupid dress and shoes Devon had bought me for the ball, and headed for my room so that he could be left to admire the irons in peace.

  Just before I exited the library where’d we’d been talking, Devon said, “I’ve got this, Dita. I just need you to trust me, okay?”

  I shook my head, words he’d once said to me surfacing in my mind.

  “It’s not you I don’t trust, big brother,” I replied, and went to get dressed for our date with the devil.

  Chapter 19

  Cartier’s Spring Ball was to be held at the Grand Hall in Cerys. The way people buzzed about it spoke to the magnitude of the affair, and though I would not have admitted it to him, I was glad that my brother would have me by his side for it.

  We had our disagreements, Devon and I, but that didn’t mean I liked the idea of him swimming with the sharks without me to back him up. Gods knew he’d jumped in the water with me more than a few times when I’d needed him.

  And if I was bei
ng dead honest, I was starting to adjust to my new, relaxed role in the family. It had taken half a moon cycle or so, but it was nice not to be constantly worrying about this or that, to be released from having to make decisions that would effect everyone I loved.

  In fact, it was actually freeing.

  The sun was just beginning to sink, painting the sky with shades of pinks and oranges that set the dying day aglow. The gravel crunched as the carriage was brought around, the horses shaking their heads and stomping their feet.

  Beside me, Devon wore a full tux with tails, which I would have preferred wearing over my own attire.

  “You look beautiful, little sister,” he whispered as we waited for the driver to come to a stop before us.

  I looked down at the dress I wore, a form-fitting, silky gold fabric that left little of my toned shape to imagination. I’d left my hair down for once, and Nyla had set it into long dark waves that hung most of the way down my back. I’d also allowed her to apply a touch of rouge to my cheeks and some mascara to my eyes.

  I never wore makeup or dresses, and it was an effort not to appear as uncomfortable as I felt.

  But I could see that my brother had meant his compliment, and I told him that he cleaned up pretty well himself, even though we both knew that he never appeared anything other.

  Then we climbed into the carriage, and we were off.

  The ride into Cerys took an hour and a half, and we sat in silence through most of it, but not because we were mad at each other. The nearer we drew, the more anxious Devon was becoming, though he tried to hide it from me.

  “You’ll be fine,” I said, unable to resist the urge to comfort him. “You said your dealings with Cartier have been going smoothly, right?”

  Devon nodded. “They have,” he agreed.

  “Then why do you look as though you’d like to shift into your Wolf and high-tail it out of here?”

  Devon settled back in his seat, smoothing out his expression. “One can never be sure with males like Cartier,” Devon said.

  I nodded. It was one thing we agreed upon.

  “I just want to get this over with,” he added.

  I adjusted my stupid dress, trying to conceal a little more of my cleavage and failing. “You and me both,” I grumbled.

  “Thank you for coming, D,” Devon said. “I’m not sure I could do it without you.”

  The words stuck in my throat a little, but I managed to speak them. “I’m proud of you,” I said. “You’ve done well. Much better than I gave you credit for.”

  Devon offered me a smile that felt like the first we’d shared in many moons. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that. I know it has been hard for you.”

  I looked out the window as the carriage rolled into Cerys, the dirt road on which we’d been traveling turning into paved streets, the ornate buildings towering around us. I didn’t say anything, because there was really nothing to say.

  The sounds of the city filled the silence, the excitement of a weekend evening in full swing. People of all sorts hurried from here to there, laughing and chatting and dining on the sidewalks. Somewhere nearby, a ragtag band of musicians played a fun melody that rose up over the crowd, and the flames of the street torches blazed with magic sanctioned by the Seers.

  We slowed, our carriage coming to a stop in a line of other carriages waiting to drop off their riders at the Grand Hall. The structure itself was massive, an architectural feat of great precision and imagination. Enormous columns supported the face of it, and the roof arched up into a dome shape constructed of a metal that had turned green with age.

  Large banners hung between the columns, pronouncing the name of the ball along with the host.

  “What is it with rich people and seeing their names in big letters?” my brother mumbled.

  I snorted. “I was just thinking the same thing about them and their parties.”

  Torches lined the set of eighty stairs that led up to the Great Hall, and people in the finest of clothing made the trek up toward the entrance. Our carriage came to a stop, and before the door was opened to let us out, I placed a hand on my brother’s shoulder.

  “I’m here,” I said. “I’m with you if you need me.”

  Devon only had time to nod before the carriage door opened and a male in a suit and white gloves extended a hand to me. I took it and let him help me down. My brother raised an eyebrow at this as he followed suit.

  Into his head, I joked, “What? The meek manners go with the dress.”

  His responding chuckle loosened something in my chest that I hadn’t realized was tightened. Devon held out his elbow, and I looped my arm through his.

  We climbed the eighty steps together.

  Once at the top, there was a small courtyard where an elaborate fountain gurgled and danced in the flickering flame of torches. Now Devon was not the only one who was nervous. Everyone who was here looked as though they owned a small country.

  Not for the first time in our lives, my brother and I were utterly out of place, but thanks to his careful selection of our clothing, at least we didn’t look it. If Cartier’s intention of bringing us here tonight was to highlight our otherness, he would be disappointed.

  “You ready?” Devon asked in my head.

  I looked down at where my guns were hidden under his jacket, and nodded.

  If I’d been in awe of the opulence at the Borden’s Winter Harvest Ball, I was dumbstruck with it here. No expense had been spared on the festivities. Fresh cut flowers in full bloom adorned the walkways, and servants in white gloves floated around with trays carrying all manner of drink and delicacy.

  And that was just the foyer.

  The grand ballroom had been transformed into a place of wonders. Females in body paint contorted themselves on ribbons hanging from the ceiling while males on tall stilts and in funny costumes handed out roses to pretty ladies passing by.

  A male with wings like those of a dragonfly flitted about, singing in the voice of an angel, looking too lovely to be of this world. Food was everywhere, as was moonshine, and I decided that was one perk of this ridiculousness that I could get behind. I ate everything I was handed, standing beside my brother as he mingled with other wealthy people.

  As I did so, I had to admit, Devon was better at the banter and charm than I ever would be. It wasn’t for lack of my trying; it was just that some people are more adept at getting others to like them. I was capable of a whole range of things, but this ability was not really one of them.

  The ballroom was crowded enough to be a party, and I had to weave my way through the guests when I set off in search of the facilities. I told Devon where I was going and that I would be right back telepathically. He nodded as he continued pretending to be interested in what the pretty female currently chatting him up had to say.

  Wasting your time, darling, I thought, and began making my way through the gathered.

  I asked a servant holding a tray where to go, and was directed out of the ballroom and down the hall.

  On either side of the hall were elaborate portraits of people of note to Cerys, most so large that they stretched floor-to-ceiling. There were Fae in funny wigs and Vampires with disarming smiles alongside Wolves in delicate clothing and nudes of the perfect bodies of Demon and Angels.

  I could not help but stare as I passed them, taking in the detail, marveling at the skill it must take to create such expert pieces. I would bet my bottom dollar that each one cost more than most people saw in ten years’ time.

  I made it to the restroom and took care of business, fixing my hair in the mirror before stepping back out into the hallway.

  Where I found Arsen Bain leaning against the wall between two of the large paintings, waiting for me.

  “Hello, little Wolf,” he said.

  My jaw clenched as I refused to let a shiver climb my spine. If I wasn’t mistaken, these were the first words he’d spoken aloud to me, his voice no less disturbing than when it was in my head.

 
I went to move past him, but the hall was narrow, and he stepped into my way.

  Out of habit, my hands went to my sides, but there were no irons on my hips.

  A silent curse filled my head.

  “What’s the hurry?” Bain asked, his bald head tilting as his eyes ran the length of me. For not the first time, I cursed the stupid dress. I felt utterly naked when he looked at me like that, and I hated that feeling.

  It was why I chose the attire I usually wore.

  We were alone in the hall, and I knew it was too much to ask the fates that we be interrupted. This meant there was no way out of this confrontation but through.

  I met Arsen Bain’s eyes, refusing to back away when he stepped closer.

  “I’m only going to ask once more for you to get out of my way,” I said, my voice flat and even.

  This only seemed to excite the bastard, and his icy blue eyes flared. “And then what will you do?” he asked.

  “Move,” I said.

  His pink tongue snaked out of his lips, his stance as challenging as one could be. He leaned forward, cutting the foot of space between us in half. “I don’t think I will,” he answered.

  I went to shove past him, and the son of a bitch grabbed my arm.

  Or tried to, anyway.

  Bain’s large hands shot out and gripped my forearm, but I lifted it and spun, moving fast enough to switch positions so that I was the one gripping his arm, twisting it up behind his back at a very painful angle. Yanking it up higher, I slammed his large body into the wall face-first, hard enough to rattle those expensive paintings.

  It was a move I’d used more than once on grabby males, one of my favorites.

  I jerked the arm up even higher behind his back, and Bain let out a low growl of pain as his eyes glowed Wolf-gold in anger.

  “When will you son of a bitches learn?” I asked, knowing the insult was particularly pointed because of our race. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” I yanked up harder, just to listen to the sound of his pain. “Or you’ll lose them.”