The Crescent Moon: Soulbond Series Book 1

by Bella Devine

  The Crescent Moon

  Soulbond Series Book 1

  Bella C. Devine

  Copyright © 2020 Bella C. Devine

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Acknowledgements

  This journey has been an amazing ride that has kept me moving forward to my dream of becoming a published author. I couldn't have done this without the support of my family and friends.

  To my family, thank you so much for the support and love you show me every day. You allow me to look at the good side of everything and show me that dreams can come true. I would not be the person I am today if it wasn't for your support, guidance, and love.

  To my critique group, thank you so much for your help, support, and exceptional advice. Trisha, words cannot describe how thankful I am that our paths have crossed. You've giving me the kick that I've needed to take this manuscript off my desktop and show it to the world. Thank you for your support, guidance, and advice. And thanks for pointing out my fragments :-). Sometimes they are good and sometimes they are not. :-) To Vera, Misty, and Debby, thank you so much for the awesome advice, suggestions, and support. Each of you has strengthened my story and has helped make The Crescent Moon a reality. And to the many other critique supporters, thank you so much for everything.

  To my editor, Cindy Vallar, thank you for never giving up on me. You've helped me find my writing voice and then helped me to craft that voice. You've pushed me beyond what I thought I could ever accomplish. Without you, there would be no Bryn, Liam, and ... no spoiler's here, but other characters coming soon.

  To Kimberly Cannon, thank you so much for making Bryn real in your stellar cover design. You've done an excellent job of capturing her essence and power.

  And finally, to my four-legged fur baby. You curled up next to me while I wrote and edited The Crescent Moon, and I'm saddened that you are not physically here with me to see the publishing of this story. But you will always be in my heart. Until we meet again, my friend. Rest in peace.

  Chapter One

  Bryn

  Sweat dampened my forehead as I raced through the living room into the kitchen. I didn't have much time to find the brown paper bag. The one that held the contents of my saving grace. Items from a past that I had tried so damn hard to forget about. A point in time that was now rearing its ugly head again.

  It was time. Time to accept a part of myself that I had buried long ago.

  My vow to limit spell casting disintegrated with each tick of the clock's minute hand. 11:10 p.m.! My stupid promise to never do magic faded. If the pattern held, I had limited time to prepare. The first time I was transported, I thought it was a fluke. The second time, I was unprepared.

  But this time, I would be ready.

  Huffing, I tossed cupcake pans on the floor, pushed pots and pans aside. The frantic clatter broke the silence. My chest tightened. The bag is here... somewhere!

  I shifted to the next cabinet and hastily tossed items aside. Overpriced semi-dark chocolate chips sprinted across the floor. Flour rained down, dusting the chocolate chips and coating my perfectly clean floor.

  "Shit!" I mumbled and ran a hand through my hair.

  Finally, in the last cabinet, I found the old, wrinkled bag. Pulling up the sleeves of my red and black flannel pajamas, I reached behind the unused coffee pot and pulled it out. Just the thought of casting a spell sent shivers down my back. It had been way too long since I had practiced the art of magic.

  I raced back to my bedroom. My body hummed with the thrill of casting a spell. The memory of power swimming through my body scared and excited me.

  I stood frozen for a brief second until years of repressing who I was, came barreling forward like a rollercoaster. Each tick of the clock had me climbing until I reached a peak and waited for the downward plummet. The thrill of magic lifted me higher, but the threat of them kept me grounded.

  I was ready.

  Dumping the contents of the bag on my nightstand, I inventoried the long-forgotten items. The lighter bounced and landed with a thud. The wooden bowl spun in circles, stopping with a final clunk. The sudden quietness vibrated through the room.

  I tried to smile, but how could I when my only choice was to conjure magic? The allure of it called to me. A faint whisper in my head encouraged me to continue — to call forth my powers — and this time I couldn't help but grin.

  It was time.

  With deft hands, I ground sage in the small bowl. Then I lit the cedar cone, placed it in the middle of the ground sage, and closed my eyes as the smoke wafted from the bowl. The familiar spicy scent magnified my witch's aura, which shimmered for the first time in over a decade. The intoxicating power caressed my soul and soothed my heart. I savored the magic that was my reason for being and my kryptonite. My body hummed with my barely controlled excitement.

  Hopeful, I grabbed the bowl and waved the smoke around my bed. My movements were confident and controlled despite years of dormancy.

  "Hic non transiet malum." No evil shall pass here. With each pass, the smoke swirled and my chanting quickened. "Hic non transiet malum. Hic non transiet malum."

  I prayed the spell would be strong enough to block the trance of the evil creatures trying to capture my eternal soul and transport it to the cold cell tonight. Never would I be a trapped witch. A chill slithered down my spine and I gripped the bowl tighter.

  Never! Mother had died protecting my power and I would be damned if I succumbed to the darkness. Such magic was almost impossible to escape.

  Coldness seeped through my bones and a chill swamped my body. I shivered.

  Fog began to bog down my senses. My thoughts became jumbled and my speech slurred as I intoned, "… transiet...hic..."

  I chanted faster, but the dark magic diluted what little power I had awakened and my words became lost. My eyelids grew heavy.

  I was falling. Failing. My power weakening.

  Struggling to stand, I took a shallow breath and tried again. "Hic — " My body convulsed. The dark magic blocked every chakra, thwarting my magical outlet.

  I stood with my feet slightly apart and placed my right hand over my heart. "Upon the power of the white witch, I call my power back."

  My hand tingled. "I call my power back," I repeated.

  The warmth sparked thrice. "I call my power back."

  My magic fizzled and sputtered.

  The tremors stopped. My body slumped.

  Remnants of my spell sparked and died. The smoke that danced to my enchantment dissipated.

  I tried to fling my arms, my legs. Anything to fight the trance. Nothing worked. I was powerless. My stomach flipped. My bones rattled and my spine slithered against the bitterness. My heart sank with
my soul into extreme darkness.

  ***

  Wake up!

  "C'mon, wake up!"I blinked several times to see through the darkness. The cold ate through my flannel pajamas like a champion at a pie-eating contest. The crisp air stole the breath from my lungs. Icy particles left a trail of evidence upon each forced exhalation.

  The darkness lightened.

  The dreaded cell greeted me again. The windowless dungeon laughed at me. Frigid concrete floor and walls mocked my choppy breathing. Arctic air stung my bare feet. The single torch — its light barely flickered — taunted me in the dimness.

  I placed a hand to my stomach, trying to prevent the jittery butterflies from breaking free.

  The thump, thump of my heart echoed like a muffled drum. The beats grew faster and louder with each passing, ominous second.

  I need a new plan!

  Taking deep breaths, I slowed my heart rate to almost normal and took a cautious step forward.

  A chill shuddered through my body, but I took another step and another and then I saw a large wooden door. My stomach fluttered. Leaning forward, I held my breath. Traveling over the timber beside the torch, my gaze lingered on the rusty locks and ring pull. The iron looked to be a hundred years old. Bracing my feet, I crouched and pulled on the handle. The antiquated door didn't budge. I leaned in with effort, gripped harder and pulled again. But it held strong.

  I kicked the timber. Jumping back on one foot, I screamed and rubbed my throbbing foot. The pain slightly decreased. Still the door hadn't budged. I banged my fists against the rough planks. When my hands began to ache from the abuse, I yanked the handle again. The metal squeaked as I lifted. But nothing else happened. My heart sank.

  Trying not to panic, I hung my head. I had become what I vowed not to be — a trapped witch — because I had been unable to stop the capture. What if they know who I am? Or is that why I'm here now?

  Damn it! I took a deep breath, then another. "I will not surrender."I searched for some object to help me break out of this nightmare. But the cell was empty.

  Chains clanked.

  How had I missed them? I narrowed my eyes. A mist flickered across the room and disappeared into the darkness.

  What the hell? Curiosity drew me toward the far side of the dungeon, but caution slowed my approach.

  The apparition appeared again, more visible this time. Someone hung from the wall. The small, frail stature suggested a woman. She didn't struggle or fight. Instead, her head drooped as if in defeat.

  Is she alive or dead?

  I was captivated with the woman before me. Each step took me closer. The spirit's vibe was familiar, her aura soothing. Home, I thought. My tense muscles relaxed.

  The need to touch the woman overwhelmed me. I had to get closer.

  A gray mouse scurried across the floor. I jumped backwards and shuddered.

  A soft wave of air caressed my skin. The apparition faded. The moment lost. The woman gone.

  Taken aback, I approached the wall, but only empty concrete stared back at me. I pressed my shaky hand to the cement, feeling for a chain, a hook. Anything to solidify that I wasn't crazy. That a woman had really hung here. But the wall was empty. No chains. No woman. No familiarity. Just coldness.

  A thick ball clogged my throat, signaling an onset of tears. I won't cry! I wouldn't allow these creatures to see any weakness from me.

  Alone. And trapped. Again. I paced the cell. The four walls seemed to inch closer together. Squeezing my space. Stealing my air. I gasped, but could only draw in shallow, quick breaths.

  Crouching, I tucked my head between my legs, closed my eyes, and inhaled. I counted to three and then exhaled. I centered my awareness on the breaths entering and exiting my body.

  "Stay calm," I whispered. The minuscule task grounded me.

  I needed tranquility and peace for my magic to work. Feeling lighter, I moved from my crouched position and sat cross-legged. I straightened my back and laid the palms of my hands against my stomach. Slowly, I deepened my breathing and imagined the path my breath took through my body until my equilibrium was restored.

  Standing up, I exhaled and pushed up my sleeves again. I looked down at my pajamas, shook my head, and grunted. Closing my eyes, I focused on a kick-ass outfit — maybe something from Tomb Raider's heroine — and cleared my mind.

  I shifted my feet and looked down at the heavy, cotton cargo pants that replaced the soft, comfortable flannel pajamas. The sand-like texture stiff against my delicate skin. Army boots. Cargo pants. A black tank top. This outfit looked dangerous. I grinned and pumped my fist in the air. I may not be Lara Croft, but I will survive!

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  The heavy footsteps halted outside the door. The lock clicked and I spun around. The pull ring turned. My heart flipped. The small space magnified the squeak. I froze. The door creaked open. Could I escape?

  I longed for the comfort of my apartment. My flannel sheets... Last night, I'd escaped just before the creature caught me. I fell through the darkness and landed in my bed.

  But, tonight...

  Why am I not sailing through the alternate plane?

  I lifted my foot, but it didn't budge. A massive hand appeared through the cracked door. I twisted and jerked, but my legs remained cemented to the floor.

  The massive hand turned into an enormous shoulder. I tried again until...

  A monstrous creature marched through the doorway. The chains on his boots jangled. The heavy scent of grass clippings, earthy mud, and tangy ammonia filled the air. His arm muscles bulged. Was he looking for me or the frail woman who had disappeared moments ago?

  His eyes — dark, yellow, and soulless — met mine. For me!

  I'm powerful. Dangerous. Vulnerable. All tied into one intricate knot. Time to show this creature what I'm made of.

  Fear and doubt tried to consume me, but I battled it down.

  I'm not a coward!

  Feet planted wide, I bared my teeth. I concentrated on conjuring a blade into my hand.

  Nothing. Not even a butter knife! My magic should work, but what did I get? Kick-ass boots and no weapon.

  I fisted my hands and raised them in front of my face. The creature's bowling-ball fists mimicked my stance. I couldn't win. I had to escape and come back to fight.

  I smiled wickedly.

  I imagined disappearing, falling into the darkness. Physically transporting my soul to my home.

  The brute advanced. His skin oozed slime. He flung his arms about and stepped forward.

  Were the ooze, the pure size of this creature, and its smell just figments of my imagination?

  Yup. Had to be.

  Heavy metal shackles, clipped around his waist, clinked. His boots rattled from the long chains. Nope. Definitely not imagining this creature.

  His bulldozer arm swung toward me at an alarmingly fast pace.

  Crouching, I tensed for the blow.

  Bang! The cement walls vibrated. Trembled. Stilled. The crash echoed in the small space.

  The giant halted an inch from my face. My nose wrinkled at his rank smell.

  Another loud rumble. The walls quivered in diminishing sequence, much like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Yet they remained solid and intact.

  I had no clue what was happening, but based on the brute's blank stare, he didn't either.

  The air became lighter with awareness and familiarity. Another sense of home in this small cell.

  "Back away from her!" a guttural, male voice growled.

  My skin tingled. My mind reached the stranger. For a moment, the cell faded and the creature disappeared. My world spun, then righted. A lancing pain enveloped my left wrist.

  "Ouch!"I shook my hand.

  The burning in my wrist sizzled through my veins until it pierced my heart. The scorching fire dissolved into a peaceful warmth that spread throughout my body.

  "Vena amoris." The man's whisper was intimate and soft.

&nb
sp; My heart fluttered at the intensity of our connection. What's happening?

  Go now! I can't hold him off much longer.

  The creature trembled and his muscles bulged. His brutish face contorted. He struggled to raise his arms and move his legs.

  GO!

  The creature collapsed to the ground.

  My confidence roared back to life. A new energy raced through me. Picturing my bedroom, I touched the soft fabric of my bed and fell from the dark cell into the light of my bedroom.