Midnight Moon (The Unbidden Magic Series)

by Marilee Brothers

  Stop it, Allie. You’re freaking yourself out.

  I turned on the TV for company. Why was my hand shaking? Feeling a bit obsessive, I checked to make sure the moonstone was lying next to the silver cross. In that position, anyone trying to touch it would get zapped big-time. Except for Sammie. She wore a locket the exact same shape as the moonstone. We hadn’t figured out the why of it, but somehow the locket and moonstone were meant to be together.

  A sudden breeze swept down from the Cascades and rattled the awning. Dried weeds behind the trailer thrashed in the wind and scratched against its aluminum siding like witch’s fingernails seeking a weak spot. The sound made me shiver.

  Okay, now I was well and truly spooked. Sammie. I’d call Sammie and see if she wanted to come over and spend the night. As I reached for the phone, it rang shrilly. My heart leaped into my throat.

  No response when I answered. Not at first.

  Then, I heard ragged breathing punctuated with low-pitched moans. Oh my God! Was this my very first obscene phone call? I blew out my breath in disgust. Before I could slam down the phone, I heard another sound that turned my blood to ice. A hoarse scream of agony followed by a male voice gasping, “Allie. Please. Don’t hang up.”

  Junior? I couldn’t tell. My fingers tightened around the phone. “Who . . . who . . . ?”

  The sound of a blow, another grunt of pain, and the phone went dead. I stared at it in disbelief as if my gaze could bring it back to life. Eventually, the thinking part of my brain kicked in and I hit the off button.

  It rang immediately. I fought through waves of dread and answered it. “Hello?” My voice quavered just a little.

  “Allie Emerson. How nice to hear your voice again.” Chris Revelle.

  Deep within me, anger sparked to life, and I was no longer afraid. Okay, maybe just a little. But not for myself. I was afraid for the person whose butt Revelle was currently kicking in order to get to me. Therefore, I had to proceed with caution.

  “What do you want, Revelle? Other than my death and the moonstone.”

  Revelle chuckled. “Always the feisty one. That’s okay. I like a challenge. I have something of yours. We need to meet so I can return it to you. Bring the moonstone and we’ll make the exchange.”

  I bit my lip and waited for him to continue. After a long stretch of silence, I heard raspy breathing and a different voice. “Allie, don’t listen to him. Don’t come out here . . . too many of them.”

  “Junior?”

  Fumbling sounds and then Revelle’s voice again. “Yeah, Junior’s pretty face isn’t so pretty anymore. It’s amazing what a razor-sharp knife can do. You’d better get here soon while he still has both his eyes.”

  Direct hit by Revelle. Shocked and horrified by the image of a battered, bleeding and blinded Junior, I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. When I could speak, I said, “Where are you?”

  “The clearing in your uncle’s orchard. Where he stacks his bins during harvest. Fortunately for me, it’s not harvest season, so don’t get any ideas.”

  In one of our earlier confrontations, I’d used TKP to make a wall of apple bins collapse onto one of Revelle’s buddies. Guess he still remembered.

  “One more thing,” Revelle said. “If you want your little friend alive, you come here alone. No pistol-packin’ mama, no half-demon boyfriend, no Star Seeker buddies and, of course, no cops.”

  “I’m on my way.” I clicked off, grabbed a mini flashlight and stepped out into the night. Moving at a fast trot, I rounded the end of the trailer and skirted behind the barn, almost outrunning the weak beam of the flashlight. I stepped into the thick canopy of apple trees, stumbling over the uneven ground.

  Was I scared? Of course I was. But I’d learned there are varying degrees of fear. Paralyzing fear as in, I’m standing at the edge of a cliff surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. Then, the oh dear God, you’d better run like the wind fear. Finally, there was the fear I was now experiencing: You’re scared as hell, but you’d better suck it up, because if you don’t, you’ll regret it all your life.

  The silence was broken only by the sound of my labored breathing and the pounding of my heart. I steeled myself against what I was about to see, knowing how Revelle loved to torment the people I cared about. I’d faced him before, and he’d been the first to blink. One on one with Revelle was one thing. Taking on a bunch of his evil buddies was a different story.

  Junior’s words resonated in my mind. Don’t come out here. Too many of them.

  In my present state, Allie Emerson, human teenage girl, would be toast, a nice little warm-up for the killing spree scheduled for the summer solstice. Allie Emerson, half fae, possessor of the moonstone and pissed off as hell, was a different story. The only way I’d have a fighting chance to save Junior and myself was to summon every ounce of magic I possessed. Under stress, I’d experienced unexpected power surges. Who knew what I was capable of doing?

  Time to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  SUMMON YOUR POWER, ALLIE.

  I wrapped my fingers around the moonstone and murmured, “Help me.” The moonstone began to warm in my hand, thrumming with a low intensity vibration. The vibration grew stronger, spreading through my hand, up my arm and into the core of my being. My racing heart slowed to a steady beat. A sense of calm settled over me.

  I stopped at the edge of the clearing and crept through the trees until a cry of pain stopped me dead in my tracks. Junior?

  Just do it, Allie.

  I picked up the pace and followed the dim light filtering through the trees. My sense of dread increased. Apparently they’d lit the scene so I could clearly see the damage they’d inflicted on Junior. When I reached the clearing, I switched off my flashlight and stood outside the circle of light to calculate my odds of success.

  The odds were not in my favor. Counting Revelle, there were four Trimarks. Revelle, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, looked like he’d just stepped off a golf course. The others wore jeans and black hoodies that hid their faces. The three stood, arms outstretched, in an inverted triangle, the Trimark symbol. That configuration, along with the dark crystal every Trimark wore, gave them unholy powers.

  A flickering lantern sat inside the triangle, illuminating Junior, who was curled up on the ground, bound hand and foot. Revelle stood over him, a wooden club in his hand. I bit my lip to hold back my cry of horror when I saw Junior’s condition. His face was a mask of blood. His body was limp. Was he even breathing? I had to do something. Fast.

  Revelle lifted the club.

  I stepped into the clearing. “Stop!”

  Revelle turned to face me, his lips curling in a complacent smile. “How nice of you to join us.”

  He took a step toward me, but stayed inside the triangle. A visible force field arced between the three Trimarks, who didn’t so much as glance my way. In order to save Junior, I’d have to deactivate the triangle. Revelle was the key.

  I moved closer to the triangle, taking care to stay well back from its perimeter. “You want the moonstone, Revelle? Looks to me like Junior’s already dead. Why should I give it to you?”

  I was pretty sure Junior was still alive. But if he was conscious, I hoped he’d hear me and get my message. Play dead, Junior.

  Revelle’s smile faded. Conflicting emotions played across his handsome face. He said, “I assure you he’s still alive. At least for the moment. Whether or not he stays that way is up to you.” He and his buddies wouldn’t make a run at me because they knew I always wore the moonstone next to the cross. If they tried to take it, they’d get knocked on their butts.

  My only hope was to get between Junior and the four Trimarks. What would I do after that? Good question.

  I said, “Why should I believe you? Drop the triangle and let me check it out for myself. Then, we’ll talk.”

  I crossed my fingers and waited while Revelle thought it over. His emotions were easy to read. Greed tinged with apprehension. Frustration tempe
red by overbearing pride. I’d outsmarted him before, but as I knew it would be, the lure of the moonstone was too great to resist.

  He pointed at the guy holding the point of the triangle and said, “Drop it. If she tries any funny stuff, kill the kid.”

  The three Trimarks dropped their arms, and Revelle stepped outside the triangle. He paused and flashed his nasty smile once again. “Say hello to your old friends, Allie. I’m sure you remember them.”

  The hooded Trimarks turned to face me. I studied each one in turn. Shane Boldt. I’d bested him a few times, and he was leery of me. He’d want revenge, big-time. Ditzy Jeanette Yeager, fake school counselor. She’d tried to separate my mother and me and get her hands on the moonstone. Benny the dishwasher. Pure dumb muscle. He’d kidnapped me and locked me in a closet.

  Yeager gave me a little finger wave. Shane glared and patted the large knife hanging in a leather sheath from his belt. All Benny could manage was a sneer.

  The triangle was deactivated. My plan was to take Revelle out, but how would I deal with the others before they killed Junior? My only hope was to convince Revelle I was going along with the program. But first, I had to improve the odds. With four Trimarks practically on top of me, I didn’t have a chance. I looked around the clearing and spotted Uncle Sid’s tractor parked next to a row of trees, about twenty yards from where we were standing.

  I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender and spoke to Revelle. “Okay, you win. Let’s work this out. Just you and me.” I pointed at the others. “Could you please have them wait over by the tractor until we’re done?”

  A gleam of triumph appeared in Revelle’s eyes. He barked an order.

  Shane muttered, “Why the hell are we letting her call the shots?”

  “Do it,” Revelle said. “Stay there until I say otherwise. This won’t take long.”

  Grumbling, the three drifted over to the tractor.

  “Happy now, your royal highness?” Revelle said. Clearly, he thought he held all the cards. One skinny teenage girl against four Trimarks? Piece of cake.

  “First, I need to check on Junior,” I said.

  Revelle backed off, and I approached Junior. Close up, his condition was even more alarming. Barely conscious, his irregular breaths came in shuddering gasps. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

  I leaned close and whispered, “Hang on while I kick some serious Trimark butt.”

  Junior answered with a groan.

  Revelle assumed I’d hand over the moonstone to save Junior. Wrong. When the rational part of my brain kicked in, I knew Junior wasn’t the only one in danger. As soon as Revelle had the moonstone, he’d kill both of us. My only advantage was that of surprise and, of course, some serious magic. I prayed it would work. Both our lives depended on it.

  I stepped away from Junior, touched the moonstone and spoke to Revelle, lowering my voice so the others couldn’t hear. “If you want the moonstone, you’ll have to take it off me.”

  Shock registered on Revelle’s face, but he recovered quickly. “So that’s how you want to play it? You’d rather watch your boyfriend tortured to death than hand over your little trinket? No problem. I’ll get the ball rolling. Then, I’ll call Shane over and let him have some fun with his knife. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

  Revelle took a step toward me, swinging the wooden club. He couldn’t resist gloating. “Payback’s hell, huh Allie?”

  “Put it down,” I said.

  Revelle sneered. “You’re not in charge. I am.”

  “Are you sure about that? Have you forgotten the shock machine? How I said I’d turn it back on you a thousand times over?”

  Granted, I was pushing my luck. While Sammie and I were incarcerated, Revelle’s favorite instrument of torture was a shock machine. I’d threatened the above but never actually tested my theory.

  Revelle’s smirk disappeared. “Enough talk. Stop being a stupid ass and give me the moonstone.”

  Stupid ass? Instead of backing away, I took another step forward, making sure I was between Revelle and Junior. “Drop the club. If you don’t, when I count to three, it’s going to bash you in the head.”

  He raised the club. “Yeah, right.”

  “One . . . two . . . three.”

  I focused on the club and felt my power rise in a fiery surge. The club flew from Revelle’s hand, floating in the air behind him. Yes!

  Revelle spun around, grabbing at and chasing after it.

  A split second later, the club flipped over and reared back, as if an invisible batter was winding up for a home run. It whipped forward and struck Revelle in the back of his head. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.

  I grabbed the heavy club before it hit the ground and hurried back to Junior. For a few precious moments, the three others stood, mouths agape, unwilling to believe what had happened to their leader.

  Yeager was the first to move. She shrieked and ran to Chris Revelle’s prone body.

  I clutched the moonstone and said, “Jeanette Yeager, your feet each weigh a ton. They’re stuck to the ground. You can’t lift them.”

  Yeager’s eyes bulged in panic. She tried, and failed, to move her feet. Okay, two down, two to go.

  Benny and Shane advanced, looking murderous. An errant gust of wind allowed the moon to peek out from behind the clouds, before it disappeared again. In that brief moment, its silvery light glinted off the knife clutched in Shane Boldt’s hand. I froze as I visualized the blade ripping into my flesh. Ending my life. Killing Junior.

  A river of anger raced through my body, and I screamed, “No!”

  The knife. I had to focus on the knife. I raised my hand. “Stop, Shane. Did you see what happened to Revelle? I can turn that knife against you. Drop it.”

  He bared his teeth, trying to look tough, but he stopped. “You screwed with my mind once before, Emerson. That won’t happen again. I’ll just hang onto the knife for now.” He glanced at Benny. “If she doesn’t give me the moonstone in the next few seconds, grab Junior and I’ll kill him.”

  “No!” I shouted. “Both of you, back off.”

  Benny ignored me and lumbered toward Junior. I stepped in front of him, fumbling with the heavy club. My legs were shaky with fatigue, the usual aftermath of a self-induced power surge. Before I could raise the club, Benny lunged at me. I sidestepped and lashed out with a kick to the side of his knee. But instead of incapacitating him, it made him mad as hell.

  “Bitch!” he yelled, rubbing his knee.

  Still cautious, Shane crept a bit closer. “Grab her and I’ll finish her off.”

  Benny raised both arms and launched his body at mine like an NFL tackler. Gripping the club with both hands, I swung for the outfield fence and slammed it into Benny’s exposed midsection. With a yelp of pain, he clutched his ribs and fell to his knees. I wound up again, aiming for Benny’s head, but he lifted an arm in defense, and the club bounced off his elbow with a crack.

  I backed away but not fast enough. Howling with rage, Benny reached out with his uninjured arm, grabbed my ankle and jerked. I hit the ground, hard. The club flew out of my hand.

  Before I could scramble after it, Shane closed in. I kicked free of Benny and stood on shaky legs, no weapon in my hand. Shane caressed the blade of his knife and stopped a few feet away from me. Benny was still out of it, rolling around on the ground, clutching his ribs and moaning in pain.

  Shane glanced over his shoulder. “Get over here, Jeanette.”

  Between gasps, I said, “Jeanette can’t help you. It’s just the two of us, and you know you can’t touch me.”

  Moonstone, make it so.

  “Then you better kiss your boyfriend goodbye.” Shane charged, the knife held high.

  I stumbled backward, reaching for the moonstone and silver cross, my last chance. I pulled the chain taut and thrust them forward.

  “Is this what you want? Here it is. Just reach out and take it.”

  Shane lowered the knife and jumped back. His lips c
urled back in a grimace of fear. The symbol of Christianity, a cross or crucifix, made the Trimarks shiver in their boots. Shane was no exception. At least, that’s what I thought.

  I took a step forward. “It’s just a harmless little silver cross. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  He glanced around at his fallen comrades and then, with a roar of fury, came at me. Caught off balance, I tried to backpedal, but my feet got tangled up and I fell on my butt. Before I could move, Shane clamped his foot down on both of mine. Taking care to avoid the moonstone and cross, he grabbed my hair and pulled it back so my throat was exposed.

  Breathing hard, he said, “How do you want it, Emerson? Fast or slow?”

  I forced myself to stare directly into Shane’s eyes. “You can’t do this, Shane. That knife you’re holding? It’s going to slip right out of your hand.”

  His grip on my hair tightened. “Not this time, Allie. Looks like you’re outta juice.”

  Shane was right. I was out of juice. Slammed by physical and emotional exhaustion, I was completely and totally spent. Try as I might, I couldn’t summon the power to swat a fly, much less stop Shane from cutting my throat. No more magic in my tired body.

  Fighting panic, I scrambled to come up with a plan.

  Shane raised the knife above his head.

  Help me, moonstone, I screamed silently. Please. Please. Please.

  As the knife began its downward plunge, three things happened. The moonstone throbbed in rhythm with my pounding heart. A bright moon popped out from behind the clouds. A sound like a clap of thunder rang out along with a brilliant flash of silver.

  The knife froze, a scant inch from my throat. Shane flew into the air as if he’d been plucked from my body with a giant’s hand.

  I heard a woman’s crystal clear voice. “Sister Moon, I summon your power. Surround and protect me from the dark ones. Fill me with your magic.”

  A glittering silver sphere like a miniature moon hovered over my head.

  The voice commanded, “Foul faeries, heed my command. Be gone! Disobey and you shall pay the price in blood.”