Midnight Moon (The Unbidden Magic Series)

by Marilee Brothers

  Beck pointed at a thick stand of trees, “The Belle Fourche River’s over there.”

  Nicole muttered, “Yeah, yeah,” and disappeared down the trail.

  “Dry campground,” Beck said with a grin. “No showers.”

  “You could have told her.”

  He shrugged. “I tried. Not my fault if she didn’t listen. This way, she’ll wake up before she gets mad.”

  Mike was sitting at the picnic table, a book propped up in front of him. He motioned for us to join him. Wordlessly, he handed me the book, already opened to a section labeled, A Sacred Place. It was the illustration that caught my eye, not the two-page color photo of the tower. The illustration depicted seven little girls perched on top of the Devils Tower. A gigantic bear clung to the side of the tower, clawing to get at the girls. Its claw marks made long vertical grooves in the rock.

  I read the words of the Kiowa legend aloud. “Seven little girls and their brother were at play. Suddenly, the boy trembled and began to run on his hands and feet. His fingers became claws, his body covered with fur. Terrified, the girls began to run, the bear chasing after them. The stump of a great tree spoke to the girls, ordering them to climb upon it. They obeyed and the stump began to rise into the air, beyond the bear’s reach. The bear leaped upon the tree, scoring the bark with its claws. The stump became the tower. The seven sisters were borne into the sky to become the stars of the Big Dipper.”

  “Whoa,” I breathed, gazing at Beck. “Last night, the Big Dipper was directly over the tower.”

  “And Grace kept talking about the seven sisters,” Beck said.

  “It must be all connected,” I said. “The solstice, the Trimarks, the Big Dipper thing.”

  Beck glanced up at the sky. “She said to come to her house when the sun was high.”

  “Let’s go now.”

  “And risk the wrath of Grace?”

  Just then, I spotted Nicole stomping down the trail, looking madder than hell. She made a beeline to Beck and slugged him in the arm. “Hey, dummy! Why didn’t you tell me this campground doesn’t have showers?”

  Beck ducked his head and lifted his arms in a defensive move. “You didn’t ask.”

  I smiled. “I think we can handle Grace.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MIKE AND NICOLE elected to stay behind, believing Grace Peterson would be more likely to speak freely to Beck and me without extra people tagging along. When we left, Mike was trying to talk Nicole into hiking the trail around the tower. Nicole munched potato chips and considered it.

  Using the directions Beck had written on his arm, we made our way to the Peterson house. We turned off Highway 14 and bumped along a rutted dirt road for a mile. Clouds of powdery dust billowed up behind us.

  “Gotta be it,” I said, pointing at the shabby one-story house a hundred yards ahead of us on the left.

  “Remember, we’re on Grace’s timetable,” Beck said. “Don’t try to rush her.”

  I nodded, not quite sure what he meant.

  Beck checked the house number and pulled into the driveway behind a dusty pick-up truck. We gazed around, neither one of us wanting to say the obvious. The place was downright depressing. The manufactured home was perched on a small hill without a tree or shrub to soften its appearance. A sprinkler rotated sluggishly on the scorched front yard, its small wet circle the only patch of green. A plywood wheelchair ramp had been attached to the front porch. A mongrel dog was chained up to the handrail, and it launched into a frenzy of barking as we stepped out of the car.

  I clutched at Beck’s arm. “That dog looks vicious. Maybe we should honk the horn.”

  Beck, who considered himself some sort of an animal hypnotist, said, “Not to worry.”

  With me trailing behind him, he approached the dog, murmuring soothing words. “Easy boy. What a good boy.”

  “Looks like a girl to me.”

  Beck whirled around and glared. “It’s the message that’s important, not the gender. Now I’ll have to start over.”

  I sighed, wondering if we’d be spending the rest of the day here while the dog whisperer did his thing.

  Fortunately, the door flew open, and Grace peered out at us. “I said when the sun is high, Wolf Boy.”

  Beck glanced over his shoulder and mouthed, “Told ya.”

  “Shut your mouth, Clarice!” Grace’s last statement was directed toward the dog, who hung her head and slunk off the porch.

  I tapped Beck on the shoulder and said, “Girl dog. Told ya.”

  Beck rolled his eyes. Grace stepped back. We took that as an invitation and walked through the open door into the dark recesses of her living room.

  A large screen TV dominated one wall. A couch and two recliners—one of which held Ralph—were squared against two of the other walls. The floor was covered with vinyl. A man was lying on the couch, draped with a light blanket, his head propped up with a pillow. He didn’t react to our presence. All of the furniture faced the television set.

  Grace ignored us and left the room.

  Ralph popped out of his recliner and said, “I’ll get you some chairs. Grace is making fry bread. She’ll be with us in a few minutes.” Ralph shuffled away and returned with two folding chairs.

  Beck and I sat and watched The Price Is Right along with Ralph and the stranger on the couch. Delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen. My stomach began emitting embarrassingly loud rumbling sounds. Awkward moments.

  Fifteen minutes later, Grace appeared with a pitcher of iced tea and a platter of fry bread, butter and honey. Swear to God, it was so yummy, I couldn’t stop stuffing my face. Grace sat next to the man on the couch, and with great patience, fed him bits of the fry bread and lifted a glass of iced tea to his lips. I was beginning to feel more kindly toward Grace Peterson.

  Finally, she said, “Turn off the TV, Ralph. I’ve got something to say.” She pointed at the man lying next to her. “This is Vernon. Our son. When he turned forty, he had a stroke. He’ll never get better.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I murmured something lame like, “Sorry.”

  “I called my grandson, Joe. He’ll be here soon,” Grace said and then clamped her lips together like she was afraid more words would slip out.

  When the silence became unbearable, Beck cleared his throat and said, “About the seven sisters . . .”

  Grace said. “We’ll wait for Joe.”

  I squirmed in my chair. Would midnight come and go as we sat here waiting for Grace’s timetable? I was getting ready to pull the plug when I heard a car in the driveway. I hoped and prayed it was Joe, so we could get on with it. Grace hurried to the front door and threw it open. A few minutes later, a young man rolled through the door in a wheelchair. Grace smiled, cupped his face in her hands and dropped a kiss on top of his head.

  He grinned up at her. “Hi, Grandma.”

  He had no legs. Only stumps, covered by cut-off jeans. He greeted his father and grandfather and then rolled over to us and shook our hands.

  “I’m Joe Peterson.” He pointed down at his missing legs. “Iraq. IED. Two years ago.”

  Beck shook his head. “That’s crappy, man. So sorry.”

  “Grandma told me you might be able to help our family get out of this mess.” Joe paused and his eyes grew shiny with tears. “It’s too late for me but not for my son. He’s just a baby.”

  Grace chimed in. “You know about the girls on the rock, the ones that became the Big Dipper?”

  “The Indian legend?” I said.

  “Not a legend,” Grace snapped. “We,” she pointed at Vernon, Joe and herself, “are direct descendants of the girls and their brother. The curse has followed us down through the years. Tonight is our only chance to break it.”

  “Curse?” I said.

  Grace pinched her lips together, either unwilling or unable to go on.

  Joe said, “Ever since the rock was formed and the seven sisters rose into the sky, every male in our family has been cursed with dis
ease or a terrible accident. We’re being punished for the boy’s actions, the brother who turned into a bear and sent the girls into the heavens. According to our family’s oral history, this is the night the seven sisters are positioned directly over the tower.”

  I was beginning to get a very bad feeling. “What does this have to do with us?”

  Grace walked to Joe and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is said a girl will appear and summon the seven sisters from the sky. When they return to earth, a male from our family must ask their forgiveness. Once granted, they will re-form the stars of the Big Dipper and our curse will be lifted.”

  I jumped up. “It can’t be me. No way. I’m here to stop the Trimarks. I’m the wrong girl. You said so yourself last night.”

  “The pendant led you to me. There has to be a reason.”

  I kept shaking my head, unable to come up with a logical explanation.

  “Maybe it’s all connected,” Beck said. “You, the moonstone, the seven sisters. Grace is right. The moonstone led you to her.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming, Give me a break! I’ve got enough to do without messing around with the Big Dipper girls.

  “Listen to the wolf boy,” Grace said. “There is a connection. Brother Bear was one of the dark ones.”

  My heart kicked up a notch. “He was a Trimark? How do you know that?”

  “The mark was on his hand before it became a claw.”

  “But you’re a Star Seeker. How can that be?”

  Grace said, “I know nothing of Star Seekers. As I told you last night, I am called, She Who Speaks to the Stars.”

  “No other Trimarks in your family?” Beck asked.

  Grace shook her head. “No, but all our beautiful boys have suffered because of the one.”

  I took a deep breath and made an effort to speak calmly. “Grace, last night you were disappointed when you saw the moonstone. Why?”

  “The stone is not as I expected it to be, but it has to be you. There is no other girl wandering around who fits the description.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”

  We locked gazes. Grace’s eyes were fierce and determined.

  I blinked first. “When is this supposed to happen?” I said

  She said, “Tonight after the solstice. The hour following midnight. Be there. Same place we met last night. Ralph and I will get Joe there somehow.”

  I shook my head sadly. “It won’t work, Grace. After midnight tonight, I won’t have the moonstone. If the Trimarks kill me, they’ll take it. If I survive, I have to leave it someplace—I’m not sure where—which means I still won’t have it.”

  Not to be deterred, Grace raised a hand. “Enough talk. With or without the stone, we have to try.”

  Grace turned her head away and pretended I wasn’t there. I knew trying to change her mind would have no effect so I saved my breath.

  Before we left, Grace had the last word. She placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “Look at me, girl. Tonight you will summon the seven sisters.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  BACK AT THE campground, we found Mike pacing back and forth, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. His normally rosy complexion was pasty white. The tent flap was open and Nicole was inside, lying on a cot listening to music.

  Mike looked up at our approach. “We need to talk about tonight.”

  “Yeah, about the seven sisters thing—” I began.

  “Later,” Mike snapped.

  Mike snapping at me? I blinked in surprise.

  Beck fetched Nicole, and we huddled at the picnic table.

  “Dennis McCarty called,” Mike said. “About Chris Revelle.”

  The butterflies in my stomach stirred to life and began fluttering their wings.

  Mike made a slashing gesture across his throat. “He’s dead.”

  “No way,” I croaked.

  “They found his body inside his car in the long-term parking garage at the Sea-Tac Air Terminal.”

  I was still trying to process the information, when Nicole said, “That’s a good thing. Right?”

  Mike shook his head. “Not necessarily. Dennis thinks there’s a new leader, and that they eliminated Revelle because he’d screwed up too many times. Look at the mess he made up at Lake Simcoe. His job was to get the moonstone.”

  “Or kill me,” I added.

  “That too,” Mike said. “He failed on both counts and paid with his life.”

  “Any idea who the new leader is?” I said.

  “No.”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. They all want to kill me.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Now what?”

  Beck was gazing around the campground. “Lots of new people coming in.”

  I’d been too absorbed in my own problems, but Beck was right. The campsites around us bloomed with newly erected tents.

  Mike said, “The ranger told me that every year at the summer solstice, a bunch of new age whackos come in to celebrate. He said that, other than smoking a little pot, they’re mostly harmless.”

  “Unless they’re Trimarks,” Beck said.

  I held up a hand. “We have to assume they are and plan accordingly. Agreed?”

  Beck gave me a thumbs-up. Nicole and Mike nodded.

  I continued, “Anybody got a plan?”

  The silence that followed my question was depressing.

  “Okay, let’s start with what we know,” I said.

  More silence. My troops definitely needed a morale boost.

  “I’ll give it a whirl,” I said. “We know at the stroke of midnight, a portal will open and hundreds of Trimarks will enter our world. Unless I return the moonstone to the right place, in which case, the portal will close.”

  Nicole said, “But where—”

  “Shhh,” I hissed. “We also know an undetermined number of Trimarks will gather here tonight to welcome their new brothers and sisters, and more importantly, to try to keep me from doing my thing.” (I deliberately left out the part about the slaughter of my family. After all, this was supposed to be a rah-rah speech.)

  I paused and fixed my gaze first on Beck, then Nicole and, lastly, Mike. “And the three of you are going to help me find a way to do my job.”

  Mike rallied first. “Allie’s right. Our job is to protect her. That’s the bottom line.”

  “That tower’s huge,” Nicole said. “There’s no way we can know what’s going on unless someone’s at the top looking down.”

  “Dream on if you think I’m gonna climb to the top of that thing,” Beck said. “Besides, I need to be close to Allie.”

  “Not you, dummy,” Nicole said. “I’ll find a place to hide out next to the tower and use astral travel to fly to the top or go wherever I need to. I’ll check out the action and text you what I see.”

  Deep within me, hope sprang to life and scattered the butterflies. “Can you do that?” I asked. “Astral travel and text?”

  “No problem,” Nicole said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”

  “Could work,” Mike said.

  “We’ll make it work,” I said. “Unless somebody has a better idea.”

  Nobody did.

  Mike said, “This is the Trimarks’ big night. They’ve had years to prepare for it. The last thing they want is Allie ruining their plan. Our job is to keep her safe until we see what they’re up to.”

  “Thanks, guys. I know the odds are against us,” I said.

  Nicole smiled. “You’re forgetting something, Allie. The four of us are so much better than a hundred Trimarks, they’ll be screaming for mercy.”

  Not knowing what to expect, we brainstormed a couple of scenarios. Using their dark crystals to set a perimeter was the Trimarks’ “go to” plan. Over a year ago, some of my classmates had been caught inside an active Trimark perimeter and faced poisonous snakes and boiling pools of mud. If a perimeter were erected tonight, we all agreed we’d rather try to break i
t from the outside than risk the horrors of being trapped inside.

  Fire was another favorite tool of the Trimarks, along with pure bloody savagery. We had to be ready for anything.

  I spent the rest of that painfully long afternoon in the tent doing two things: worrying about what could go wrong and hoping against hope that Sammie would appear. The words from the prophecy pounded relentlessly through my consciousness.

  Two girls are required to save the world from a terrible disaster. Two girls joined by the moonstone.

  Unless Sammie turned up by midnight or, by some remote possibility, Nicole was the girl, I was screwed.

  BY TEN P.M., the hills to the west had snuffed out the last of the sun’s glow. The darkening sky was alight with stars. The Big Dipper was aligned directly over the massive tower. The moon had not yet appeared. Clad in the dark hooded sweatshirts we’d used to kidnap Frank, we walked silently toward the tower. According to the ranger, people usually started gathering at eleven. Until we knew what the Trimarks intended, we needed to be tucked away in a secure hiding place well ahead of time. Earlier, Beck had located a rock crevice behind three scraggly pine trees, a perfect spot for Nicole to do her astral travel thing.

  Before we went our separate ways, Nicole said, “Circle up.”

  When we joined hands, Beck and Nicole took turns praying over us. I added a silent prayer of my own, including God, Jesus, the moonstone, the sun and stars plus every deity known to mankind. Aloud, I added, “And may our powers be strong.”

  The air inside our circle thickened and warmed, as if we were creating our own energy. I breathed it in and felt it clear down to my toes. A burst of power swept through me, stronger than anything I’d felt before. I gasped in surprise. The power swelled, gathered strength and danced through my nervous system. My fingers tingled as the sensation shot into our clasped hands. When I heard each person murmur and draw a quick breath, I knew they were feeling it too.

  When we dropped hands, Nicole grinned and pointed to the top of the tower. “I’ll be in touch. Get ready to kick some serious Trimark butt.”

  She’d barely started down the path when I heard pounding footsteps behind us. Nicole froze. Seriously on edge, we all whirled toward the sound. A small figure dressed in dark clothing, sneakers and a baseball cap came into view. A lock of gleaming blond hair escaped from the cap and fell across her face. When I realized who it was, I yipped in alarm and backed away.