Midnight Moon (The Unbidden Magic Series)

by Marilee Brothers

  “Well, you know I like to flirt, and he was hot.” She paused and swallowed hard. “We started talking. He was trying on golf gloves. He reached out and put his hand on my cheek. The last thing I remember is looking into his eyes. Honest to God, I couldn’t look away. When I came back to myself, I was chained up in that creepy basement.”

  “He must have used some kind of a spell.” I said. “Trimarks are dark fae, so it figures some of them would have that ability.”

  Nicole nodded. “The glove must have protected him so he could grab hold of the cross and pull it off.”

  “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you should stop beating yourself up. You were in a situation most of us would find impossible, and you took action. Girl, you were about to bust out of this place. You should be proud of yourself.”

  Nicole’s eyes went wide. “Ya think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Hey, girls, we’ve got a plan,” Mike said. The lilt in his voice told me he’d won Beck over.

  Mike filled us in while Beck fetched Frank from the car. We all went in the house through the hole in the door. Each of us had a job. Mike and Beck set the three Trimarks on the floor back to back and began duct-taping them together with their arms behind their backs. Nicole filled three big glasses with water, and I retrieved the bucket from the basement.

  Mike told the Trimarks, “Here’s the deal. You’re stuck here until the day after tomorrow. When we come back to Gillette, we’ll give the sheriff a call and tell them where you are. We’ll give each of you a drink of water. I think you know what the bucket is for.” He paused and chuckled. “Might take a bit of maneuvering though, with the three of you taped together. Plus, you won’t be able to pull down your pants.” He grinned down at them. “Now, you can thank us for not killing you.”

  What we heard was a bunch of cursing. Not one word of gratitude. Not even when Nicole, none too gently, gave each one a drink of water. Before we left, we scoured the place for cell phones. Beck took them outside, set them on the driveway and stomped them into tiny pieces. Mike found a sheet of plywood, a hammer and nails. He nailed the plywood to the front door to prevent our Trimark buddies from rolling out onto the porch and attracting attention.

  Before we slapped duct tape over their mouths, Danny yelled, “Hey, you better have a Plan B ’cause you’ll all be dead after tomorrow night. So who will call the sheriff then?” Even though his voice held an edge of panic, it caused a sudden chill to pass through my body.

  Mike slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t let him get to you, Allie. We’ll be fine.”

  Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. His words had planted a seed of doubt.

  We headed back to the motel so Nicole could shower and change her clothes. Ready or not, in a little over twenty-four hours, the summer solstice would happen. Next stop: Devils Tower.

  MIKE TRIED TO TALK us into staying the night in Gillette.

  The rest of us outvoted him. Yeah, we actually put it to a vote. At first we were tied. Mike and Nicole voted to stay in the motel. Beck and I were all for leaving. Each of us had one minute—timed by Beck’s multi-function watch—to explain our viewpoint. It was kind of like a mini presidential debate.

  Mike said, “It’s almost ten. We won’t be able to get into the campground this late. We’ll have to sleep in the van. Might as well get a good night’s sleep.”

  Nicole’s was short, to the point and, as usual, self-centered. “I’m tired. I need to sleep. In a bed, not a tent.”

  Beck simply said, “Giddyup.”

  I’d like to think it was my stirring speech that convinced Nicole to change her mind. It went like this: “Nicole, you do realize Mike is older, so we’ll have to give him the bed out of simple courtesy. The rest of us would be sleeping on the floor. And then there’s Beck. You know he comes alive at night. He’ll have the TV on, or he’ll want to talk, or he’ll phone out for pizza. You two will end up having a big fight and nobody will get any sleep. If we drive up to Devils Tower, Beck can go outside and wander around and we can sleep.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay,” Nicole muttered. “Let’s go.”

  We gathered up all the crosses and the crucifix we’d used to torment Frank and loaded them into the van. Couldn’t hurt. Mike handed Beck the car keys and climbed into the passenger seat. We’d barely left Gillette behind when his head slumped against the window and he began to snore. Ten miles down the road, Nicole conked out as well. I held the map and a flashlight, which made me the official navigator.

  “Twenty-eight miles east of Gillette, we leave the interstate and turn north. Highway 14,” I said, in my official navigator voice.

  “Yep,” Beck said.

  “You knew that?”

  “Been there before. Besides, there’s a great big sign that points north and says, Devils Tower National Monument.”

  “Fffft,” I said in disgust and tried to fold up the map. It wouldn’t fold. I snapped it open, shook it out and tried to align it along the creases. It came out lopsided.

  Nicole bolted upright and snapped, “Will you please stop making so much noise?”

  “Fine!” I crumpled the map into a messy paper ball and crammed it into the center console.

  “We might need that later,” Beck said, his voice tinged with amusement.

  “I thought you knew where you were going.” My voice sounded bitchy, like Faye when she was ragging on me about something. I didn’t like sounding like my mother. I snapped my mouth shut, leaned back in the seat and gazed into the dark night.

  A few minutes later, Beck’s hand snaked back, grabbed my knee and squeezed. “Sorry, I know you were trying to help. We’re all a little on edge. Check the map and see how far we have to go on 14. Please.”

  Mollified, I picked up the crumpled map and tried to quietly smooth out the wrinkles. Nicole mumbled a complaint.

  Mike awoke with a loud snort and snapped to attention. “Are we there?”

  “Not long now,” Beck said. “Go back to sleep.”

  We rode in silence for a while. I gazed out of the window as we sped by the darkened fields of waving grass. The moon was overhead, smaller than it was last night. “Won’t be much moonlight tomorrow,” I murmured. “Hope the clouds don’t move in.”

  “It’s a horned moon,” Beck said. “Means good luck.”

  I studied the scooped-out moon through Beck’s unique perspective. Lying on its back, the crescent moon curved upward. Its pointed ends did resemble the horns on a Viking’s helmet.

  “Good luck, huh.” I smiled to myself. “You made that up.”

  Beck raised his right hand, two fingers pointing upward. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You’re no boy scout.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll use your favorite expression. Swear to God.”

  As previously mentioned, the Bradfords did not take religion lightly. If Beck used the term, “Swear to God,” he meant it.

  I leaned forward and squeezed his shoulders. “We need all the luck we can get. Go, horned moon.”

  We rode in silence for a while. Inside the insulated cabin of the van, zipping through the dark, unfamiliar landscape lit by a horned moon and brilliant stars, it was like being in a rocket ship, whizzing through space, not knowing what to expect when we landed.

  Beck’s voice broke the silence. “Are you scared?”

  Good question. I thought about it for a while before I answered. “No, not really. I haven’t had time to be scared. More like worried.”

  “The Sammie thing . . . right?”

  “Yep, the Sammie thing. She was the girl. I was certain she was the girl. And now, no more Sammie.”

  “You’ve been through some crazy shit lately.”

  I thought about my showdown with Chris Revelle, Junior’s injuries, my trip to Boundless, Lake Simcoe.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “I guess I have. Whatever happens tomorrow, I have to believe it’s the way it’s meant to be.�
�

  Beck steered with his left hand and reached back with his right. I slipped my hand into his and held on tight.

  “Whatever happens,” he repeated. “We’ll be there. Nikki and me. Your dad. You’re not alone. We’re gonna kick some serious Trimark ass. Count on it.”

  I blinked hard to fight back tears. Whatever happens, Allie, you won’t be alone.

  Chapter Thirty

  THE FURTHER WE drove off the main highway, the brighter the night sky became. Clusters of stars, earlier dimmed by city lights, sparkled and danced, entertaining the horned moon. Maybe Beck was right. Maybe a horned moon would bring us luck.

  Suddenly Beck hit the brakes and pulled onto the side of the road. “There it is. Do you see it?”

  I looked in the direction he was pointing. In the distance, a dark column, backlit by a starry sky, rose from the earth like a giant exclamation point. “Yeah, I do. How far away are we?”

  “Maybe five miles. You up for a stroll around the perimeter?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Sure, why not? The alternative is sitting in the van listening to Mike and Nicole snore.”

  He was right. Totally wired, I knew sleep was not an option tonight.

  Five minutes later, at the stroke of midnight, Beck turned off the highway onto the road approaching the tower, which now loomed over us like a black specter. He found a place to pull off the road and parked the van.

  “The gate to the park and campground will be locked, but we can walk in,” he said.

  Mike sat up, stretched and yawned. “Want me to go with you?”

  “Nah, go ahead and sleep,” Beck said. “We won’t be long.”

  “’kay,” he mumbled, nodding off again.

  Lying next to me, Nicole whimpered in her sleep. The sound was so pitiful I wondered if she was caught up in a nightmare, still chained to a post in that creepy basement.

  “Shall I wake her?” I whispered to Beck.

  Beck shook his head. “I can help her.”

  He stood on his knees and reached over the seat back. He placed a hand on Nicole’s head and began murmuring to her. His voice was pitched low. So low I couldn’t make sense of the words. I had a strong feeling Beck was speaking to Nicole in a language only the two of them understood. Whatever he said, worked like magic. Nicole took a deep, shuddering breath. Her fists unclenched. She tucked her hands under her cheek and smiled in her sleep.

  “That was pretty awesome,” I said.

  “Trouble sleeping? Call Dr. Beck,” he said, with a grin.

  He reached for the door. “Ready to go?”

  We slipped out of the car and began walking toward the tower. A soft summer breeze ruffled the long prairie grass bordering the road. Silvery in the starlight, its rippling surface brought to mind the undulating surface of a turbulent ocean. As we approached the tower, I felt a tugging sensation. My feet seemed to move without effort or thought, as if the towering monolith was drawing me closer. Slightly alarmed, I felt my heart kick up a notch.

  “Do you feel it?” I asked Beck.

  “What?”

  “Like you’re a scrap of metal and the tower is a magnet, pulling you in?” My words came out between gasps. “I don’t think it will let me turn around.”

  Beck took hold of my arm, and we jerked to a stop. “No way,” he said. “Try to turn around.”

  I was breathing hard now, fighting the edge of panic. I pulled free of Beck and spun around to face away from the tower. A blast of warm, moist air slammed into my body, knocking me off balance. I staggered backward, gritted my teeth with effort and attempted to take a step. The sensation was like trying to walk in hip-deep water, achievable but slow and ponderous. A howling wind ripped the scrunchie from my ponytail and my hair flapped wildly around my face in a tangled mess. Thrusting my arms out, I fought to keep from falling.

  Beck grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me back toward the tower. The air grew still. The only sound was that of my panicky breathing. Once again, I felt the tower pulling at me.

  “Oh, man,” Beck breathed. “That was something else. You created your own weather.”

  “And it didn’t affect you?”

  “No, but the moonstone’s going nuts.”

  I glanced down at my chest. The moonstone was pulsating with brilliant light, keeping time with my heart. It wasn’t the first time it had behaved that way, but really, I had no clue what it meant. Was it warning me of danger? Did it want me to turn around? Keep going? Who knew? Certainly not me.

  I looked at Beck and shrugged. “Guess I’ll keep going and see what happens. Maybe I’ll be stuck at the Devils Tower for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t talk like that. Remember what you said earlier? Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to happen. Maybe there’s a reason.”

  “Not like I have a choice,” I muttered, my feet picking up speed as we neared the tower. Beck had to jog to keep up with me. We whizzed through the parking lot, scrambled up a slight incline and found ourselves on the asphalt path that circled the tower. Left or right? I turned left and got smacked in the face with a blast of air. I spun on my heel to face the other direction.

  “Right it is,” I said, smoothing my hair back from my face.

  Side by side, Beck and I started down the path. Its surface was smooth under my feet, and the tugging sensation had subsided. Maybe Beck was right. Maybe there was a reason for the odd phenomenon I’d experienced. As my heartbeat slowed into its regular rhythm, the moonstone ceased its frantic pulsations and settled into a muted glow.

  Beck’s cell phone buzzed. He dug it out of his pocket, tapped an icon on the screen, studied it and handed it to me.

  “Junior,” he said. “Text message. Wants you to call him.”

  He handed me the phone, stepped to the side of the trail and sat on a tree stump. Beck and Nicole’s eyes glowed like molten gold at night. Because we thought we might run into other people on the trail, Beck wore special glasses that dimmed the glow. But not completely. So, as I punched in Junior’s number, all I could see of Beck were two dimly lit golden orbs, flickering like fireflies in the darkness. If anyone else was out and about, I hoped they’d be so entranced with the tower they’d fail to notice Beck’s eyes.

  Junior answered, saying simply, “Hey, Emerson.”

  “Hey, yourself. Why are you awake this time of night?”

  “Can’t sleep 24-7. The demon kid hitting on you yet?”

  I smiled. “Hmm, exactly which demon kid are you talking about?”

  Junior chuckled. “Okay, I get it. I’m talkin’ about Beck Bradford. Ex-boyfriend of Allie Emerson, who, by the way, dumped her when he went off to college. Beck Bradford, who can touch a girl and make her feel whatever he wants her to feel. Beck Bradford, who’s probably alone in the dark with my girlfriend. Right. This. Minute.”

  The “dumping” bit made me grit my teeth. Beck and I would never have been a couple if Junior hadn’t disappeared for an entire year, with no forwarding address. But now was not the time to pick a fight. Keep it light, Allie.

  “Oh, that demon kid,” I said. “To answer your question, no, he isn’t hitting on me. He’s been too busy rescuing his sister.” I filled him in on Nicole’s abduction and the strange phenomenon I’d just experienced at the tower.

  Junior totally ignored my lengthy explanation, and like a dog with a bone, returned to the subject at hand. “So it’s just the two of you out there hiking the trail? What about your dad and Nicole?”

  I heaved a sigh. Patience is a virtue, Allie. “Mike and Nicole are asleep in the van. Just chill, Junior. You either trust me or you don’t. What if I got all bent out of shape about all the fan girls chasing after you?”

  After a brief silence, he said, “You do.”

  My mouth fell open. He was right. At precisely the same moment, we both burst into laughter. Tension eased, we chatted for another five minutes. Junior’s recovery was going well, and he assured me he’d be at the airport to greet me when we
returned.

  Neither of us wanted to be the first to end our conversation, but finally Junior said, “Gotta go. That nurse you know—the mean one—I think her name’s Haugen. She’ll be checking on me soon. Bye. Love ya, Emerson.”

  “Love you too.”

  I hit the end button, staring at the phone cradled in my hand. Did I hear it right? Junior Martinez. Heartthrob to thousands. Uttering the L word to moi? Unbelievable. And I’d repeated it automatically, as natural as drawing a breath. When I had more time—like when I wasn’t trying to save the world from evil—I’d give it some more thought.

  Beck sauntered up to me, and I handed the phone to him. “How’s Junior?”

  “Getting better. He wanted to know if you were hitting on me.”

  Beck sighed. I wanted to think it was a sigh of regret. “That’s one fight I don’t need.”

  We continued down the path. So far, we hadn’t needed the flashlights we’d stuck in our pockets. The sickle-shaped moon was rising, its two pointed ends peeping over the top of the tower. Plus, the seven stars of the Big Dipper were brilliant in the night sky, with the dipper upended, the last star in the cup positioned directly over the tower.

  I tugged at Beck’s sleeve and pointed at the constellation. “My mom would look at the upside-down dipper and say, ‘It’s gonna rain.’ And I’d say, ‘Old wives tale, huh?’” I paused and swallowed hard, suddenly missing my home. My mom.

  “And . . . ?” Beck said.

  “Then, she’d look kind of sad and say, ‘But I’m not a wife at all, old or new.’”

  “Guess she will be soon.”

  “You’re coming to the wedding . . . right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  We rounded a curve, and the smell of smoke wafted through the air. I sniffed the air like a bird dog on a hot scent. “Forest fire?”

  “Smells like sage,” Beck said. “Smudge sticks. It’s a native thing. The Devils Tower is sacred to a couple of different tribes.”

  “Why would they be out here at night?”

  “Hard to say,” Beck said. “Maybe they have to keep watch at night.”