Blue Moon

by J. A. Belfield

Ethan’s beading seemed to be taking forever. He’d been at it for almost an hour and had only made one a quarter of the size of his own. Maybe his large hands and thick fingers hindered him. I didn’t say anything. He seemed to need something to centre on as much as I did.

  I picked up my refilled glass, drank some more.

  “I was just thinking we could take a drive out to Marianne’s house.” He didn’t meet my gaze as he spoke, “Maybe take a look.”

  I studied his lowered head, taking a huge gulp of my drink and relishing the burn it paved through my chest.

  “We don’t even have to get out of the truck. We could just check it out, look for any clues about where they might have moved to.” He shrugged. “Might get lucky and find one of them has returned.”

  He still didn’t look up, but he’d tempted me, and he knew it.

  It took about thirty seconds to agree.

  21

  Forty minutes of non-talk later, Ethan pulled up to the kerb beside the terraced property. We stared out the window, necks craned as though something useful would materialise if we searched hard enough.

  The engine quieted. “Come on.”

  I spun to face Ethan. “You said you’d stay in the truck.”

  “It’s okay.” He gave a small smile. “You’ve got my back. I trust you to protect me.” His fingers tapped against his beads. “Besides, I have my necklace and my new non-permanent tat, too.” He opened his door and slid out.

  With a sigh and a rough face rub, I did the same.

  Ethan locked the doors before joining me. His arm slid around my back and drew me close. Like a couple out for an evening stroll, he guided me down the road, away from the property.

  At the end of the row of houses, with Ethan steering us to the left, we coursed toward the rear of the strip before we headed around the back.

  Six-foot high walls defended the entire length of rear yards, with wooden gates set in to mark each individual one. He tried the witches’ gate. Locked.

  “You first.” He took me by my waist and hoisted me onto his shoulder before I could respond. As his head twisted toward my body, he drew in a deep inhalation.

  I pushed his face away and hauled myself over the wall. My feet hit the ground on the other side. Ethan landed beside me a split second later.

  Side by side, our nostrils flared. From the house before us to the properties either side, I made a thorough check to ensure nobody observed.

  Satisfied, I moved forward at the same time as him but waited whilst he looked through the window. He grabbed the door handle, gave a sharp yank and a shoulder shove. The wood splintered.

  We didn’t pause to check if the electricity worked as we entered. Our enhanced vision took in every single detail as we moved. Kitchen first. A check of the cupboards revealed naught. Dining room, where we’d eaten with them. The lounge. Nothing.

  Although we suspected we’d find the same upstairs, we checked anyway.

  The place stood completely empty. Not even a scrap of paper or button. Absolutely zilch.

  We returned to the truck. My eyes moistened. Beside me, Ethan rubbed at his head. I couldn’t believe we’d done it to ourselves. I’d known it could accomplish nothing, yet I’d been unable to stop myself. Would it always be that way? Catch a glimmer of hope only to have it obliterated by the truth that I couldn’t find him?

  “We have to get back,” Ethan said.

  I almost suggested we get back out, change forms and do a little hunting on four limbs, except if the boys’ scents extended farther than the path, Ethan would have already picked up on them. Plus, Nathan would have our hides for risking exposure in a built-up area. Instead, I wiped a hand beneath my snotty nose.

  “I’m sorry, Jem. This was a stupid idea.”

  “No.” I sighed against the tremor in my voice. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, it was.” He started the engine.

  The drive home brought no more noise than the earlier one, other than Ethan’s hands brushing constantly over his hair, and the small snuffles I failed to contain as a result of my escaped tears.

  Back in the apartment, I headed straight for the bathroom to freshen up, afterward pulling on a nightshirt of Beth’s. When I returned to the kitchen, I figured out the heating system and activated it.

  Ethan came through from the lounge and joined me, sans boots and jeans, a bottle in hand. Without asking, he half-filled my empty glass.

  The warm, amber liquid scorched as it passed over my throat.

  Back in our seats, we resumed our work. Once I’d finished with my written squares, I helped Ethan out and started on a necklace for Connor. I had no idea how long we stayed there but halfway through my third shot of what Ethan identified as brandy, my eyes refused to focus or my fingers to work.

  “Need to quit,” I mumbled.

  Without waiting to see if he agreed, I picked up my glass and tottered into the lounge. A teeter left, a saved wobble right, and my body attempted to sit before I’d even reached the sofa. I made it—just.

  At a murmur from Ethan, I called out a, “Whah?”

  He stepped to the doorway, indicated the phone held to his ear and ducked back out of view.

  Through my struggle to concentrate, I attempted to listen in. It took seconds to deduce Nathan held the other end of the conversation as Ethan told him about my bleeding.

  “No, Dad,” he mumbled. “I can’t bring her back tonight. I’ve had too much to drink to drive.”

  He didn’t appear drunk to me.

  “Yes, I’ll try and get her to come back in the morning.” His volume rose and fell. “Yes, I’m going to stay with her.” He paused. “Please, don’t worry.”

  Quiet followed before Ethan reappeared. He flopped down beside me with the half-empty bottle of brandy.

  “He’s mad,” I murmured.

  “No.”

  My hand refused to hold my glass steady as Ethan leaned across and topped me up. That should have told me not to have any more, but my brain had shut down to rationality, my limbs had hit the stage of severe uncoordination, and a refreshing lightness had taken over my entire soul.

  I lifted my replenished glass and sipped some more. “Maybe you should go home.”

  “Can’t.” He filled his own glass before planting the bottle by his feet. “I promised Sean.”

  My head flipped to the side to face him, and I stared through half open eyes.

  He leaned over and kissed my nose—a tender gesture for such a burly man. “He made me swear, Jem, when he first found you.”

  My eyelids fluttered as I studied his face.

  “He made me swear to protect you, to help him keep you safe. I could see how much you meant to him, so I vowed to do whatever it takes. Sitting here with you now is no hardship if it keeps that promise to my brother.”

  I snorted out a small laugh. “But, it would be a hardship if you didn’t have to?”

  He shook his head, smiling. “I adore you. You know that.”

  With another snorted giggle, my hand made an inaccurate swat for his arm as I attempted to stand. By the time I’d struggled upright and faced him, my mood had altered, my expression twisting to reflect it. “I miss him, Ethan.” My voice arrived in a quiet squeak as I pointed to my chest. “In here.” The floodgates, no longer strong enough to restrain my sorrow, splintered open.

  Heartache-induced sobs possessed my body. Even when Ethan stood and pulled me into his arms, my shakes showed no signs of slowing. He stroked my hair. His hand swept across my back, but sobbing at that level of commitment took it out of me. My legs lacked the strength to support the burden of my grief, and I sank to the carpet.

  Clutching my fingers on his arm, Ethan came with me. “Shh,” he whispered. “We’ll find him.”

  Hiccups
erupted with each bump of my body.

  “We’ll get him back.” His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, clearing the pools that spilled over. “We’ll get them all back.”

  I made an attempt to regulate my breathing, my shudders showed their first signs of subsiding, yet my tears continued to spill.

  Ethan planted his lips against my forehead as he scooped me up, his strength apparent in the ease with which he did it.

  With his arms holding me tight in his lap, exhaustion won the battle of wills.

  • • •

  The agonizing pounding of my head spread across my temples. The grey daylight of winter filtered through the bedroom window. A quick pat of the half-empty bed confirmed Ethan had already woken, and I pushed into a sitting position, every single muscle in my body beseeching me to stop. Even inhaling hurt like hell, though the strength of his essence in the room, combined with that of coffee, told me he hadn’t been up long.

  With a groan, I forced myself onto my feet and commanded my quivering legs to follow the rich wafts into the kitchen.

  Ethan’s gaze lifted to the doorway when I reached it, his eyes widening. “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks.” I mumbled. “You don’t.”

  He gave a small smile. “You really haven’t drunk in a while, have you?”

  I shook my head, pressed a hand to it when the motion sparked pain behind my eyes.

  “Sit down.” He pointed to the empty chair, pushing to his feet. “I’ll grab you a coffee.”

  I obeyed as he took the couple strides to the kettle, pressing fingers to my temples at the way too loud clink of the teaspoon against ceramic. When he returned, the plonk down of the mug and the squeal of chair feet across the floor had me groaning.

  After a rough face rub and a sip of my drink that almost unearthed the nonexistent contents of my stomach, I picked up my beading and attempted to thread the cord through the hole. Coordination refused to be my friend.

  Of course, Ethan’s stare laser-burned right through my brain. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I dunno.” I dropped the bead work and rested my forehead upon my folded arms atop the table. “Yesterday. Your mum made me eat before she left.”

  “That was lunchtime, Jem. You need to eat.”

  “Can’t,” I mumbled. “Need to quit talking ‘bout food. Not helping.”

  The quiet tick of the clock provided a background beat to Ethan’s deep breaths. Tyres splashing outside on the road indicated rain had fallen.

  “Let me take you home,” Ethan said after a while.

  “Can’t,” I said. “I walked out—”

  “Bullshit. You don’t truly believe you’re no longer welcome there.”

  It took great effort to lift my head. “You’re safer if I don’t involve you. This is my fault. I’m going to sort it out.”

  He leaned forward over the table. “How exactly is this your fault?”

  “Because none of it would have happened if I hadn’t turned this into something personal between Marianne and me.”

  “More bullshit!” His fist thumped down on the tabletop, and I winced. “You know as well as I do, she’d still have taken Dan and Josh. The only difference is we’ve now got four brothers to get back instead of two. “Yes,”—he nodded when I opened my mouth to speak—“the fact she has Sean makes all the difference in the world to you, Jem. But ultimately? Things have more or less turned out exactly as she’d intended.”

  I stared at him through squinted eyes, lips pursed.

  “Come home. We can help. With the things you want to make, if nothing else.”

  I ran my hand through my matted hair, wiping at my face.

  “Please …I want you to come home. Dad wants you to come home. Mum and Connor are worried sick about you.” He leaned farther forward until only a few inches from my face. “I know that’s where Sean would want you to be because it’s the safest place for you.”

  “Nate’s mad at me,” I whispered. “He was fuming when I walked out.”

  “If you walk back in there with me, today, yesterday will be forgotten. He’ll just be glad to have you back.”

  A few moments passed before I spoke. “Will you do as I ask if I return?”

  “I can only speak for myself. But, if it’s what I have to do in order for you to agree, then yes, I’ll hand over the reins,”—his head tilted side to side—“unless I think you’re in any kind of danger I can’t ignore.”

  My mind ran through arguments against returning, but Ethan had never lied to me. He’d also made a point I hadn’t considered. If I did fall into danger, who else would I choose in Sean’s absence to fight in my corner?

  “Okay, I’ll come. But I won’t hesitate to leave again if you tussle with me over anything.”

  He breathed out a sigh as he stood, messing my hair with his hand as he bent down and kissed my cheek. “Okay. Get dressed. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  We pushed through the front door and entered to quiet. I presumed everyone was in bed until I spotted feet overhanging the end of the sofa through the living room door. A duck round the panelled wood revealed Connor.

  He blinked, a crook of his finger beckoning me closer.

  I stepped into the room, padded over to him.

  His fingers folded around my wrist, and he tugged me down on top of him, his bear hug a much warmer welcome than I’d expected.

  My cheek squidged into his shoulder as I returned the embrace. “Sorry about my dodgy smell,” I murmured at his audible inhalation.

  “I can deal,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

  Connor’s chest rose and fell against me. His body warmed like an electric blanket. Exhausted still, I stayed there, listening to Ethan’s footsteps shuffle around the house.

  Outside, the rain gave up, allowing a little winter sunlight to peek through. Signs of life drifted down from upstairs, and Nathan and Beth descended, passing through to the kitchen.

  Low conversation carried to me between father and son. Ethan’s reassurance that he’d brought me back in one piece, and Nathan’s praise of good job for getting me to agree—the last sounds I bothered to tune into before I plummeted into sleep.

  I’d no idea how many Z’s I snatched before the trill of my mobile vibrated against my hip. I tumbled backward off the sofa in my haste to retrieve it and slammed it against my ear. “Jess?”

  “How you doing?”

  “Never mind about me. Did you meet with your man today?”

  “Yes.”

  I ran my fingers through untamed, beyond tangled hair. “And?”

  “Sounds to me like you’re dealing with the biggest bunch of world-dominating wannabes ever.”

  I rolled over, landed on my feet. “He knew them, then?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  Connor’s eyebrows lifted as he followed my departure from the room.

  “What did you find out?” I headed for the kitchen, took a seat at the table. “Did he know where to find them? Are they part of a coven?”

  Connor came in behind me and took the seat beside Ethan.

  “It’s not really something to talk about over the phone, Jem. I’d rather wait and discuss it when I get there. But, no, in answer to one of your questions, he couldn’t tell me where to find them because they’d gone underground before he left.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You really expect me to wait until you get here to talk about this?”

  “Yes. I’d prefer to do it face to face.”

  “So get here already!” I snapped.

  She blew out a breath. “Not fair, Jem. You want me to walk out on work? What do you suggest I do with the kids?”

  “But,”—I waved my hand as if she could see—“two days. I can’t wait that
long. I need to do something now.”

  “Okay, listen to me.” Her big-sister tone kicked in. “One—I’m coming earlier. I’ll be with you tomorrow.”

  I winced as I experienced momentary guilt at my demands. “But …it’s Christmas—the kids—”

  “They’re going to Ray’s in the afternoon for a few days.” She meant to their father’s—Jess’s ex. “Secondly, I don’t believe we have to worry about everything just yet.”

  I glared round at my companions as though they held the blame for her attitude. “What are you talking about? The witches have had the boys for over thirty-six hours. Why the hell wouldn’t they already be doing whatever they’ve got planned?”

  “Because I don’t think they’ll do anything until the thirty-first.”

  The others all stared hard at me. I knew they could hear the conversation. Even Beth leaned in close. I hit loudspeaker to save her the effort, placing the mobile down on the table. “That’s New Year’s Eve. What’s so special about then? And more to the point, why would you come to such a conclusion? Did that man tell you this?”

  “Slow down,” she said. “No, he didn’t tell me. What he knew was just hearsay. The reason I think they’ll wait until then is because it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore that they’ve abducted your men so close to the date of the blue moon. If I had something planned and wanted absolute certainty for its success, that’s when I’d do it.”

  My brow creased. “The blue moon?”

  “Yes. This is the year of the blue moon, scheduled to appear on the thirty-first, which is next Friday.”

  My fingers massaged my forehead. “What the hell is a blue moon?”

  She sighed. “I thought you remembered your binding ritual?”

  “Not all of it.” I shrugged. “Just bits.”

  “Well, your binding ritual was performed on the night of a blue moon because it’s believed to heighten magical abilities, and to hold a natural power that can be drawn from or called upon.”

  The headache that had dulled with sleep kicked back in. “So, on the thirty-first, the moon will be blue?”

  “Of course not.” Her tone suggested she considered me a complete moron. “The blue moon is when a full moon is present for the second time on one month. It’s rare, compared to the monthly cycle of a normal full moon, and only happens once every two-point-something years.”