FULL MOON

by Jennifer St. Clair

  And no one else needed to die tonight. Even before she realized she had moved, Elinor opened the car door and let the icy snow sweep the memories back where they belonged.

  The cold numbed everything; from skin to fury, and the snow's soft hiss soothed her mind. She could almost believe that she was safe here, in the middle of a country road with no one around; the sound of the snowfall even masking the noise of the car's engine.

  When she stepped away from the car, she saw no sign of the man. She couldn't even tell where the road ended and the field began; the snow glowed in the darkness, even though heavy clouds covered the full moon.

  She thought--in passing--to use a spell to find him, but that would damn her for certain, and she had much less of a chance to wreck the car now than she had before.

  And then, as she slowly made her way around the side of the car, she saw his leg, and then his body--both thankfully attached to each other--and the path of his trajectory across the asphalt, already half-covered with snow. A dog stood guard over him, a furry black and white creature who growled as she approached.

  "Hush," she told it. "Hush and let me help him."

  Unmindful of the cold, Elinor knelt beside him, struggling to hold back any sort of healing magic until she could take him to a well-warded place. His eyes were closed, his face pale even under a coating of snow. He wore clothes too thin for travel through a blizzard; a thin coat, rubber boots. She almost expected him to vanish when she touched his hand, or show himself to be a hunter--or worse.

  The dog whined.

  "He'll be fine," Elinor said, and hoped that were true. "Sir? Can you hear me?" She gently shook his shoulder, praying for a response.

  But he just lay there with his eyes closed and his hair frozen to his face, his lips blue, his chest barely moving, his fingers darkened by frostbite.

  And she couldn't just sit there forever and stare at him, since this was her fault.

  She glanced both up and down the road, but she'd passed no cars and saw no sign of approaching vehicles. With as much care as she could manage, since he was a bit taller than her--but thin under the fragile bulk of the clothing; too thin--she flung one of his arms around her shoulders and dragged him to the car. The dog followed, hopping into the backseat as soon as she opened the door.

  Oh well, she thought. It's not my car anyway.

  When she lowered the man onto the backseat, he moaned, his arm twitching across her shoulders. But his eyes were still closed when she eased away from him. She covered him with a blanket she found in the trunk, then hurried around to the driver's side door as the dog watched, its eyes bright and interested.

  It would not do for the hunters to find her with an innocent in this. They would not hesitate to kill him--or worse. And if Oriellen found him--she shivered.

  Elinor slid behind the wheel again, and put the car into drive. With an unconscious passenger, she knew she couldn't drive as fast as she had been before--if she crashed, it would be akin to killing him herself.

  "He'll be fine," she whispered, more to herself than the dog.

  Willing the snow to stop, she inched down the road.

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  Chapter Four

  As an outsider watching the proceedings, Sennet wouldn't have picked up on the underlying issues if she hadn't been warned. She wasn't the only human in the room by any means; the elves weren't nearly as strict as they had been before about human lovers, and some of the half-breeds in the audience could have easily passed for human themselves.

  Those sitting in the circle deciding succession and the petitioners--Meinren, Oriellen, and one other elf who Ceidrin named as Ahren--all pled their positions. The only two missing who should have been there, Elinor and Lucien, caused a stir when the names were read, but no one approached the deciding elves to plead their case or give their regrets.

  The elves in the circle--all elder, all distantly related to royalty and the prior Queen's closest council--only reacted strongly when Ahren mentioned the possibility Sennet had come up with--that the long-lost princess might have left an heir.

  "Oh, now he's done it," Ceidrin muttered under his breath. "He's actually ninth in line to the throne. He doesn't have a chance."

  "So you could have been up there?" Sennet whispered back.

  "No. I gave that desire up a long time ago," Ceidrin said as the murmuring around them rose at Ahren's statement. "But technically, yes. I could be up there." He frowned. "Lucien's absence is particularly damning, since he has had words with both Oriellen and Meinren."

  "What about Elinor?" Sennet asked.

  "Elinor...Elinor has the blood, but not the status," Ceidrin said. "She spends most of the year in the human realm."

  "Perhaps she didn't get the memo," Sennet whispered. Ceidrin laughed.

  "All possibilities must be exhausted, or the new king or queen will always have a question of their succession to the throne," Ahren said as soon as the murmuring had died down.

  "And are you volunteering to find this missing heir?" an elderly woman asked, her voice sharp. "As far as I'm concerned, we're already missing two."

  "Aunt Mahariah," Ceidrin whispered, a thread of glee running through his voice. "If anyone could derail this, she could."

  "I am merely suggesting that the possibility has not yet been raised," Ahren said smoothly.

  "And of course I object," Oriellen snapped. "Nidrea has been gone for two centuries. Even if she left an heir, a half-human would be dead by now."

  "Still, the possibility has been raised," an older elf said, his voice grave. "And this council cannot ignore that possibility."

  "You would have the kingdom remain without a leader while Ahren indulges in his fancy?" Meinren spoke for the first time, and Sennet felt something shimmer in his words; some sort of spell, perhaps? She glanced at Ceidrin, who now watched the proceedings with narrowed eyes.

  "We've survived for this long while our Queen was ill," Mahariah said, but her voice wasn't as strong as before. And perhaps it was a spell, because Ceidrin made a forceful motion with one hand and Meinren stepped back, his face suddenly white.

  "Damn it," Ceidrin growled under his breath, then stood. "I agree with Ahren. If there is even a remote possibility that Nidrea left an heir, we must explore it."

  Sennet thought that Ahren seemed a bit relieved to have his proposal seconded. Oriellen and Meinren could not hide their fury.

  "I do not see you up here, Ceidrin," Mahariah said, but her tone was not unfriendly.

  Ceidrin did not move. "You know why."

  "I--" one of the others began, but Mahariah silenced him with a glare.

  "Yes, I do," she said. "And your reasons are not in question. Will you discover what happened to Nidrea and answer the question of an heir? And perhaps gather up Lucien and Elinor as you go along?"

  Meinren smirked, as if he expected Ceidrin to refuse, then spluttered when Mahariah mentioned Elinor's name. "She's no Queen!"

  "Of course you will," Sennet whispered when he hesitated. "You know you want to."

  "I do not!" But louder, he said, "I would be happy to lay to rest the speculations about an heir. And I will do my best to track down Elinor and Lucien as well. However, I must have enough time to complete my task."

  "Will a month do?" Mahariah asked with a small smile.

  Ceidrin ignored Meinren's glare and nodded. "If I haven't found anything in thirty days, then there won't be anything to find."

  "Very well." Mahariah turned to the gathered council. "We will rejoin this council in thirty days. All aye?"

  There were only two dissenters.

  "What now?" Sennet asked as the crowd began to file out of the room.

  "Now I have an excuse to leave early," Ceidrin said, not at all upset by the possibility.

  Oriellen appeared behind him, her face as cold as ice. She did not speak as she swept past, but Sennet thought the coldness lingered long after she was gone.

  "If she becomes Queen
--" Ceidrin bit back the words he wanted to say and sighed. "I should at least attempt to explain to Gene why I've involved myself in this before I leave again."

  "Be careful," Sennet said, thinking that the easiest way to end such a search would be to eliminate the searcher.

  "Oh, I will," Ceidrin said. "Paranoia is my middle name, after all. Shall I walk you home?"

  "No, I can find my own way." And anyway, she wanted another glimpse of that sword so she could try to jog her memory again. She had seen that sword before.

  Somewhere.

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  Chapter Five

  The steady thump thump of windshield wipers woke him first; and then the faint thrum of momentum that vibrated through his bones. Edward thought he had enough strength to open his eyes until he tried--and failed--so he lay and listened and tried to figure out what had happened.

  He remembered the cold, although it seemed a dim memory now. Or, perhaps, he was frozen still; he couldn't feel anything but the car's vibration. No throbbing pain; no agony. Just a numbness that swallowed him whole.

  He thought he remembered headlights, which would explain the car, but he couldn't remember anything else. No sign that he had spoken to the driver, or begged for a ride. Nothing.

  Edward tried again to open his eyes. This time, he managed to pry them open, but he saw nothing of the driver in the darkness of the car. The dog had curled up in the small space above his head, a mass of warmth that almost put him to sleep again. He tried to rise, hissed when his hands came in contact with the seat, and fell back down.

  It didn't take very long for the pain to swallow him whole.

  "You're awake," a voice said from the front of the car. A feminine voice; young, but strained with fear and worry. "Don't try to get up quite yet; I can help you as soon as I find a place to stay, but--"

  Edward closed his eyes and tried to shove the pain away. He wasn't sure how badly he was hurt, only that one small movement had awakened a vortex of agony.

  Was it all from the cold? Or had she--

  "I hit you," the girl said, as if reading his mind. "With my car. I swerved to miss a deer, and you were standing on the side of the road. I'm very sorry."

  "You--" He managed that much before his throat locked and forced him to struggle just to speak. "You hit me." Why, then, wasn't he dead?

  The dog whined and shifted in place. Edward bit his lip to keep from screaming.

  "Yes," the girl said. "And I apologize. I couldn't miss you. I'm sorry."

  Edward knew he should have been more concerned about this, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to care. He tried to inventory his injuries, but everything hurt, down to the very tips of his fingers.

  Frostbite? Or worse? He managed to move his hand, then his arm, but he couldn't see details in the darkness as a human. That was one small advantage to his wolf form, and almost the only one.

  At least his fingers still worked; albeit stiffly.

  "I'm sorry," the girl said again.

  "It's nothing," Edward whispered, almost before he realized he had spoken. He groped for the dog's head, and rubbed the silky fur on her nose. She licked his fingers and thumped her tail against the back of the seat.

  "No! Don't say that!" The girl sounded genuinely distressed. "If I hadn't hit you--"

  "If you hadn't hit me, I'd be dead by now," Edward whispered, which was probably the truth. "So I think you actually saved my life." He opened his eyes, hoping to get a glimpse of her, but she remained hidden by the front seat.

  "Oh," the girl said softly, but Edward had the feeling she was talking to herself, not him. "Maybe they won't notice, then. And--" Louder, she said, "Are you badly hurt? I do have a small talent for healing, but I don't dare work without wards, or else I would have healed you back there. I--"

  The heat pouring from the vents was not enough to stop a sudden shiver. "You're a witch?" With the last of his strength, he tried to see her, beyond normal seeing, but even that part of his vision remained dark.

  "You sound like you've had bad luck with witches," the girl said, her voice charged with guilt.

  "Answer my question," Edward demanded. "Are you a witch? If so, you can let me out here. I'll walk the rest of the way home."

  The dog whined, as if disagreeing with him.

  "I don't need you, either," Edward whispered, but did not pull away when the dog licked his face. He could feel that, at least.

  The girl took a deep breath. "No, I'm not a witch. At least not in the way I think you mean."

  "But you have a 'small talent for healing'," Edward said, and tried to sit up. He almost fainted from the pain, and had to lie there for a moment, his eyes closed. "What are you, then?"

  "I could ask you the same question," the girl said after a moment of silence. "You seem to know a bit about magic, at least--"

  "You could say that," Edward whispered, unwilling to give her anything more. Who was this girl? He realized, then, that he was completely in her power--for better or for worse. Even if she did release him, he wouldn't have enough strength to reach his sanctuary before the change came upon him, or he died in the snow.

  Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. She wanted a well-warded place, after all, and if she swore to heal him and held true to her word--

  "How--how far have you driven?"

  Her laugh sounded close to a sob. "Not far. The roads are very slippery, and I didn't want to...I didn't want to hurt you any worse than I already have." Under her breath, she whispered, "I don't want anyone else to die tonight."

  Edward shivered again. "Tonight? How many people have you killed?"

  She was silent for so long that Edward almost fell asleep. "I--I haven't killed anyone. But I--if I hadn't--" She sounded very close to tears. "Never mind. I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

  "How did they die?" He couldn't tell if he asked the question only to fend off the silence or to learn more about her.

  "I'm not sure I should tell you," the girl said. "The least you know the safer you will be. I'm sorry. I'll--I will heal your wounds and then leave you in peace."

  "And if those who hunt you find out that you healed me, where will I be then?" Edward asked, taking a guess on the reason for her fear.

  "Where were you walking on a night like this?" the girl countered.

  Edward closed his eyes. "Home." His feet twinged at the memory.

  "And you usually dress like that while walking through a blizzard?"

  "This was all I could find," Edward said. He had secrets of his own, after all; secrets he did not wish to share.

  "I see," the girl said, and a moment later, Edward felt the car swerve slightly right as she stopped it on the side of the road. "I'm going to turn on the light; close your eyes."

  Edward obeyed even before he considered the possibility of what she could do while his eyes were closed. Even then, the press of illumination against his eyelids hurt.

  The dog whined again, then barked; the sound echoed through his head.

  The girl's breath caught in her throat. "You're--you're bleeding."

  Edward nodded, his eyes still closed. "I expect I am." The wetness he felt had to be something other than melting snow and ice; for one, it was actually warm. He covered his eyes with one hand before he opened them, but even after allowing them to adjust, the interior of the car was a blur for a long, long time.

  When his eyesight finally cleared, he saw the girl for the first time, kneeling in between the front seats, her spiky pale hair not quite covering the tips of her very pointed ears. Her eyes were wide and as green as grass--something he hadn't seen since the first snowfall some months ago.

  "I thought elves couldn't drive cars," Edward said, which was the only thing he could think of to say, given the circumstances. He shifted on the seat, gasped a little as another avenue of pain decided to open up, and touched the worst of the wetness beneath his side.

  His fingers came up red. He stared at them, nu
mb, until his hand started to shake, and then he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what would happen when he shifted shape.

  "I'm not a full-blooded elf," she said. "My name is Elinor. My mother was an elf. She's the one who died." She sniffed a bit and wiped her eyes. "I usually wear a glamour to tone down my appearance, but--but I--" Her breath caught in her throat. "I'm so sorry."

  She touched him, then, and he felt something shift between them; a warmth that passed from her hands through his skin, sinking deep down into his bones. It burned where it touched, but it wasn't a painful feeling, just uncomfortable.

  Edward opened his eyes. "You said--you said you needed wards."

  Elinor shivered and nodded, glancing out of the windows only once before dropping her gaze to concentrate on her talent again. "I do. But I don't want you to bleed to death before I find a place to stay. I don't--I don't want anyone else to die tonight."

  There was a lot of blood. And maybe some of the numbness stemmed from blood loss; Edward couldn't tell.

  "What was the last street you passed? Do you remember?"

  Elinor's eyes lost focus for a moment. "Oak Hollow, I think."

  "About three miles from there is a turn-off; you may miss it if it's covered with snow." Edward closed his eyes again; it seemed easier just to close them and succumb to the steady drag of weariness than to fight to keep them open. "I have a house at the end of that road. It's well-warded." He wouldn't say a word about the lack of electricity or running water. "It's--a stone house. The only one--on the road. My wards will let you pass."

  "Who are you?" Elinor whispered, but the car started up again a moment later, and he fell asleep before he could even think to reply.

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  Chapter Six

  Ceidrin didn't really want to face Gene's inevitable anger just yet, so he decided to detour to Elinor's mother's house, a place he'd been to only once or twice before. It was a nice long walk through the forest on a well-traveled path; the estates were normally connected with paths instead of roads in Faerie. Visitors usually arrived by magic anyway, but Ceidrin thought he could use the exercise.