Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella

by J. R. Rain

  I said them out loud and he nodded. “Don’t think of them as three numbers, think of them as six numbers. One, four, two, nine, six and three. With that in mind, what are the two lowest numbers?”

  I glanced at them again. “One and two.”

  He nodded. “Good. And the next lowest?”

  “Three and four.”

  “Good, good. And the two highest?”

  “Six and nine.”

  “You got it,” he said, giving me a half smile.

  “Twelve, thirty-four and sixty-nine?”

  He nodded. “You’re the first person I’ve ever given the key to. Not even to my own son.”

  “How old’s your son?”

  “Twenty-one. But it’s too soon to give him the key. My father gave it to me on his deathbed.”

  “I feel honored,” I said, and meant it.

  We stared at it some more. He made no move to open it, and I certainly wasn’t about to. Somewhere down the hall, one of his piles of junk shifted, groaning, as boulders do in the deserts. The piano, I saw, was gone.

  The light particles behind Charlie began coagulating and taking on shape, and shortly, two very faint old men appeared behind him. I noticed the hair on Charlie’s arm immediately stood on end, as his body registered the spiritual presence of his father and grandfather, even if his mind hadn’t. Charlie absently rubbed his arms.

  “Well, let’s get on with it,” he said, and reached down for the safe.

  As he did so, I said, “You really don’t want to open the safe, do you, Charlie?”

  “I do. Really, I do. A deal’s a deal, and I want to pay you. Your half.”

  “But wouldn’t you rather pass it along to your own boy?”

  “Without you, Ms. Moon, I would have nothing to pass on to my kid. Besides, it’s really a silly tradition.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s about family.”

  “We’ve been keeping this thing going for years and it’s impractical at best, like a joke from beyond the grave.”

  “I think it’s an amazing tradition,” I said.

  He didn’t say it, but his body language suggested he thought so, too. He said, “Well, it is kind of fun not knowing what’s in this thing. I mean, it could be anything, right? But I suppose it’s time to find out once and for all?”

  He made a move for the safe again, but he didn’t get very far, mostly because I grabbed his wrist. He shivered at my cold touch.

  I said, “This isn’t right.”

  “A deal’s a deal, Ms. Moon. Besides, I have no other way of repaying you.”

  I thought about that, then looked around. “Not true. You have enough junk to stock a dozen houses. There’s got to be something in here that I want.”

  “What are you saying, Ms. Moon?”

  “I’m saying, let me pick something out of your junk, and the safe is yours. Keep it in your family. Pass it along to your son.”

  He processed that information, and I saw the relief ripple through him and his shining aura. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I’ve ever been.”

  “But aren’t you a little bit curious what’s in the safe?”

  “More than you know,” and as I said those words, I briefly closed my eyes, and expanded my consciousness throughout the room, and as I did so, two things made me gasp.

  The first was the contents of the safe, which I saw clearly. The second was what I saw resting inside a wooden box deep under a pile of newspapers.

  Charlie was watching me curiously. “Are you okay?”

  “Er, yes,” I said, then patted him on the shoulder. “I would suggest you find a much better place for your safe.”

  “I will.”

  “A very safe place.”

  “You think the contents are valuable?”

  I thought of the two old spirits, Charlie’s father and grandfather. I thought of Charlie’s own son and the unique bond that kept the generations connected. The safe. I also saw in my mind’s eye the tightly rolled vellum document that might just be the rarest of all American documents, a document signed by our founding fathers, centuries ago. A document thought to be lost...until now.

  Then again, I could be wrong.

  Next, I moved through the piles of junk and headed to the far corner of the room. There, I began moving aside old newspapers and magazines, until I finally uncovered an ornately carved box.

  I picked it up carefully, my hands trembling.

  Slowly, I opened the lid...

  Unbelievable.

  Inside was another golden medallion. This time, the three roses were cut from brilliant amethysts.

  Charlie was looking over my shoulder. “Oh, that. I got it at an estate sale a while back. In Fullerton. Get this, some old guy was murdered by some nut with a crossbow. Anyway, it’s gold, I think. Probably worth a lot. I’ve been keeping it for a rainy day.” He paused. “Truth be known, it kind of gives me the creeps. You can have it if you want.”

  I closed the lid and held out my hand. “Merry Christmas.”

  But Charlie had other designs on me. He wrapped me in a huge, smothering hug. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Moon!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  With the box sitting safely on the seat next to me, I had just pulled out of Charlie’s mobile home park when my cell rang. It was Fang.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said.

  “That sounds odd coming from a vampire,” said Fang.

  “Why, because I’m a creature of the night?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’ll remind you that Santa does his best work at night.”

  “Santa isn’t real.”

  “I thought the same about vampires,” I said. “And someone recently told me that if people believe in something hard enough and long enough, it becomes true.”

  Fang laughed. “Enough about Santa Claus. I’ve got news. Your watcher friend is likely a fallen angel.”

  “He’s no demon, Fang.”

  “Have you ever met a demon, Moon Dance?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, recalling meeting Kingsley in my hotel room when he had fully transformed into a werewolf. The thing living inside him was as close to a demon as I’ve ever met. “I just know he’s not evil.”

  “At least not yet.”

  “What, exactly, is a fallen angel?”

  “A spiritual being that no longer commits itself to helping others evolve. In fact, quite the opposite.”

  “A being who helps others devolve?”

  “Close. A being who spreads fear. Living in fear, any kind of fear, separates the individual from the Creator.”

  My head began to throb. Headaches, for me, rarely lasted more than a few minutes. I chewed my lip and drove and didn’t like any of this. I said, “And so, what, one day he decides to turn bad?”

  “It probably wasn’t just one day, Moon Dance. It had probably been a long time coming.”

  “He said he’s no longer bound to me...”

  “If he was your guardian angel, that makes sense. Why should one immortal protect another?”

  “Now that he’s not bound to me...”

  “Right,” said Fang, picking up on my thoughts. “Now that he’s not bound to you, he’s free to approach me. A sort of metaphysical loophole.” Fang paused. “I had a thought, Moon Dance, and a not very pleasant one.”

  “Tell me.”

  “What if he allowed you to be attacked?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if he not only allowed you to be attacked, but he had planned the whole night?”

  “But why?” But even as I asked the question, I knew the answer.

  Fang voiced it for me. “To turn you, Moon Dance. To turn you into that which he could finally approach. Or that which he could finally love.”

  I shuddered as I drove on into the night, wending my way now through the streets of Yorba Linda. “But he said my destiny was to become immortal. To become a vampire.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps he w
asn’t telling you the truth.”

  “But isn’t he, you know, obligated to protect me?”

  “I don’t know, Moon Dance. We’re talking about the spirit world, something I’m not privy to. But I am familiar with the concept of spirit guides and guardian angels. From my understanding, yes, such beings are generally there to guide and protect and nurture. Unless...”

  “Unless what?” I asked.

  “Unless they decide not to.”

  “A fallen angel,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Christmas Day, late.

  They were all here. Mary Lou, her husband and three kids. Her three kids were about Tammy’s and Anthony’s ages, and they mostly all got along. Except when playing video games. Then, all bets were off.

  Kingsley was here, too, and he looked absolutely sumptuous in his thick sweater and scarf, which hung loosely over a chest that should be illegal in most states. Kingsley wasn’t a slender man. He was thick and hulking and as yummy as they get.

  Detective Sherbet and his lovely Hungarian wife swung by to say hello. He also pulled me aside and caught me up on another killing. Turns out the city of Fullerton had a bona fide serial killer. This would be the fifth body in as many months. He wanted me to come by the department tomorrow and compare notes, since I was an official consultant on the case. Sherbet was one of the few people who knew my super-secret identity. He and his wife stayed just long enough to drink some hot cider and eat some Christmas brownies, before moving on to another party.

  Danny even stopped by to drop off the kids’ presents. As he stood at the front door, peering over me into a home we had once shared together, no doubt taking in the dollar store decorations, the aromas, the laughter and even the corny Christmas music, he looked positively miserable and envious. I had it on good word that his relationship with his secretary was over. I also had it on good word that she was suing him for sexual harassment. Nice. But don’t feel too bad for the guy. Apparently, he was now dating one of his strippers. Yes, my ex-husband, besides being an ambulance chaser, was also part-owner of a strip club in Colton.

  Right. I couldn’t be more proud.

  As we stood awkwardly at the door, I sensed Kingsley watching us from within the living room, his hulking form backlit by the Christmas tree. Danny, it seemed, was waiting for an invitation to come in. This coming from a guy who was actively trying to ruin me. I thanked him for the presents, wished him a merry Christmas and, against my better judgment, gave him a half-hearted offer to come in, which he pounced on. He pushed past me and immediately went over to kitchen table where he began piling snacks on a paper plate.

  Watching him, I reminded myself that it was Christmas, a day when even porn kings and slimeballs were given a one-day pardon.

  When it came time for dinner, I thought of Fang alone in his little apartment. I had invited him, too, but was secretly relieved when he declined. He and Kingsley in the same room would have made everyone uncomfortable. Yes, Kingsley knew all about Fang. I believe in honesty and openness in a relationship. To a degree. Kingsley didn’t need to know about Fang’s criminal past.

  I kept myself busy serving dinner, so busy that everyone forgot that I hadn’t actually eaten. I would eat later tonight, with Kingsley. A rather nontraditional holiday meal, you could say.

  With dinner over and dessert being served, I thought it best to step outside and get some fresh air. I excused myself, patting Kingsley’s meaty thigh. He was deep in a conversation with, of all people, my ex-husband. Two attorneys talking shop.

  Blech.

  My house is small, but I have a big yard. I followed a curving, cement path that led from my front door to my garage, a path I had sprinted across many times during the heat of the day, each time gasping for breath and sometimes literally thinking I couldn’t take another step. But I did it each and every day to pick up my kids from school.

  A small price to pay.

  The sun had long ago set. I felt strong and clear-headed. Cars were parked seemingly randomly outside my house. I lived in a narrow cul-de-sac, and parking here was always a challenge. Especially for Kingsley, who was a surprisingly bad parker. Even now, his black Escalade barely touching the curb, with most of the rear end blocking my driveway.

  Pathetic. I expected more from an immortal with decades of driving experience.

  I slipped my hands into my coat pocket and looked up into the evening sky. This would have been a good night for flying. Clear, cool skies, with Christmas tree lights sparkling far below. In fact, maybe I would try to get up tonight. Maybe fly out to see Kingsley later.

  Maybe.

  As I stepped out from behind the comically-parked Cadillac, I saw him standing there in the middle of the street, watching me.

  Ishmael.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once again, I gasped.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Samantha.”

  “You have a way of doing that.”

  “Sometimes, I forget how easily humans startle. Humans...and vampires.”

  “I’m not human?”

  “You haven’t been human for many years, Sam.”

  “I feel human.”

  “Do you feel human when you’re soaring above the earth?”

  He stepped closer to me, hands clasped behind his back. To my eyes he seemed a little taller than I remembered.

  He nodded. “I am taller, Sam. I am whatever I choose to be.”

  Glowing particles of light swarmed around him...and disappeared into him. He was a being unlike anything I had ever seen. And to be clear, I’ve seen some weird shit.

  But as he drew closer, walking casually with his hands behind his back, his movements so fluid and smooth that he appeared to be walking on air, I saw something else. Intermixed within the light particles were darker particles. The darker particles were new to me...and alarming. Never had I seen anything so black. Worse, the dark particles seemed to contaminate the light, spreading like a disease.

  “A disease?” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “An interesting choice of words, since you yourself often call the darkness living within you a disease.”

  “There is no darkness in me.”

  Ishmael threw back his head and laughed, and it was the first time he had expressed real emotion. His first seeming loss of control. Everything prior to that, every move, every word, had seemed almost rehearsed.

  “What do you think keeps you alive, Samantha Moon? What do you think you feed each and every time you consume blood? You’re feeding the thing that lives within you.”

  “I am still me.”

  “Or so you think.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  He continued to approach me, continued his slow glide over the street tarmac. “You know so little, my dear. But I can show you so much. I can reveal it all to you. I can help you fight that which lives within you, that which is slowly consuming you.”

  Now he stood before me and, son of a bitch, he was even taller than just a few seconds before. By at least another six inches. Surely, he was taller now than even Kingsley.

  I must be dreaming, I thought.

  “You’re not dreaming, Sam.”

  “Get the hell out of my head.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  He reached out and touched me, running his fingers under my chin, lifting my face up to his. I shivered. His touch was hot. Almost superheated. “I don’t want to get out of your head. Your thoughts are the only place I have sanctuary.”

  “I know what you are, and I’m telling you to leave me alone.”

  “Oh? And what am I, Sam?”

  “A demon.”

  I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. He thought he could see me, but for the first time I was seeing him. He was lost, just as I felt lost sometimes. He had needs and desires, just as I did, and on this night, in the middle of this street, his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was in love with
me.

  Could demons love? I didn’t know, but I doubted it.

  “Demon is such an ugly word, Sam.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “I said it was ugly, I didn’t say it was inaccurate.”

  I shuddered. The blackness swirled around him like black worms, weaving in and out of the light. “You look different.”

  “I am different. I gave up much to be with you, Sam.”

  “And you took much from me.”

  “I gave you immortality.”

  “You stole my humanity. You abused your power in the name of love. Or what you think of as love. You have put a curse on me that will never be fully released. You put me in danger and my own children in danger.”

  He laughed. “Your own immortality saved your boy from an agonizing death.”

  “If I had known that my immortality would be the only thing that would save my child, yes, I would have begged you to allow me to be attacked. To allow me to become what I am. But you can’t claim responsibility for a twist of fate.”

  Then again, maybe he could. I was in uncharted territory here. How much of the future did Ishmael know? Had he known that my son would acquire a terminal disease? I didn’t know. Truth was, I didn’t know what watchers were capable of and not capable of. But I knew something about free will, and I suspected Ishmael was pulling my strings like a puppet master. He was a person, a being, who had abused his influence.

  “No,” he said, reading my thoughts. “A person in love.”

  “You turned me into a monster,” I said.

  “Not a monster, Sam. An immortal. And the darkness that lives within you can be controlled. I can show you how. I can show you so many things.”

  “You could show me how? You could show me many things? Your love is conditional. Your love is not real. Whatever illusion you have about you and me ends tonight. You were given an amazing gift by the Almighty and you squandered it over illusions of love. You might have been able to read my thoughts, but you lacked something. Subtext. Hearing my thoughts isn’t the same as experiencing my heart. Because if you ever had, you would have never done what you did to me on that night seven years ago.”