Moon Child

by Christina Moore

  “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he whispered across her lips.

  The hands that had slipped south of Tristan’s waist moved up again. “Sorry.”

  He burst into laughter and flung them down on the bed. Lying on their sides, facing each other, he nuzzled Ash’s neck, still chuckling softly. “I was thinking, a simple solution to our problem might be to get a custom mouth guard…”

  “What?” she snapped, jerking back enough so that she could look him in the eye.

  “No,” he said chuckling again. “Not like the kind athletes use, but more like a retainer or like those clear braces tray things? You could have a bit of plastic molded to your teeth that fit like a glove to take the bite off your fangs.” Granted if she really wanted to break his skin, she still could, but the effort would have to be significant. The guard would certainly be a decent safeguard for those heated moments.

  “That—” She blinked at him in shock.

  “I know, right?”

  Ash pulled the corner of her lip between her teeth. Could the solution be something so simple? By the Goddess, it was worth a try. She gave a little laugh, shutting her eyes and resting her forehead against his. “I feel a fool for not thinking of it before. And here I was looking to spells and tricks when all it took was someone with a modern frame of mind.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “It’s not like you’ve ever been to the dentist before. Hell, I think I’m more than overdue myself,” he said and then mumbled, “not that it really matters...” Never had a cavity or any other dentistry issues.

  “I can make an appointment for us both once we have the time.”

  “Sooner than not, I hope,” Ash said with a coy little look.

  Tristan laughed, hugging her. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Oi,” came the voice as the door opened. “Yew two aboot done? We’ve shite tae do!”

  Ash signed, knowing Desmond was right and climbed off the bed to get dressed. She ended up in her last pair of pants, leather, and one of Tristan’s black undershirts. It was too large for her but the appeal of her wearing one of his shirts was enough to find the frumpy top sexy. Tucking the ends into her pants helped shape it. A quick comb through her hair and she was ready.

  Tristan had only two pairs of jeans left, a long sleeve top and two more undershirts, one white, the other black. Not sure exactly what was going to happen next but having a pretty good idea, he opted to leave his last good shirt for another day, just going with the short sleeve under-tee, anticipating it’s ruin. The weapons though, they weren’t optional.

  Silent, stoic, Ash lead the way into the main room. Desmond was lounging in the chair near the patio slider. Mamoru stood with his back to the small kitchenette, arms crossed over his chest as he closely watched the pythia and the elf sitting on the sofa. Chrysanthe looked nervous, unsettled. Silas, an ever vigilant guard at her side.

  Desmond ignored the couple as they came further into the room, pretending like he didn’t care about anything but the drink in his hand. It was Mamoru that acknowledged Tristan first, straightening as he turned towards the pair.

  “Tristan!” The man looked genuinely happy to see him.

  Chrysanthe jumped to her feet, having only just noticed Tristan too. Silas didn’t even flinch, remaining the apathetic sentinel he was.

  “How are you?” Mamoru asked, moving aside as Tristan went straight for the food on the table behind him.

  “Still a little cold,” he admitted. “And hungry, but I’ll live.”

  “Thank the Goddess,” Chrysanthe whispered and then jumped when Ash stomped up to her.

  “This was your fault, witch!”

  Tristan chuckled. According to what Mamoru had told him on the boat, the term was a huge insult. He stressed how important it was to never call pythia a witch, even in anger. Which is exactly what Ash had done.

  The pythia bristled as Silas drew himself to his feet to stand closely behind her. “I was just doing what I was told, I didn’t bloody well know he’d fall into such dire trouble!”

  Ash got close, close enough that Silas’s hand went straight for his sword. Then he scowled, dark look darting right to Desmond who was secretly grinning to himself as he fingered the handle of the sword resting at his side.

  “Told by whom?” Ash asked with precise syllables.

  She shook her head. “I can’t remember his name. Silas?”

  The elf shook his head somberly.

  Ash narrowed her eyes at the witch. “Do you remember what he looks like?”

  Chrysanthe took in a breath, held it, looked at her companion and at his nod, collapsed on the sofa, letting out a puff of breath. “An old man. Confident, even-tempered, pensive… but not old-minded. Very modern in his thought process and still of his wits.”

  She understood what Chrysanthe was saying, that the man wasn’t human, but not necessarily a pythia either. The shinwa and heikō as a whole tended to work on an older frame of mind, stuck in their old world ways. The vampire in particular too were resistant to change along with the elves and the shinigami. But the lycan, before they’d been hunted out of existence, and the fae tended to love modern times and the technology that it brought. Whatever he was, most likely he’d been spelled to hide it. He might not have even of been old or a man for all they knew.

  “I call him Professor, but I don’t know why.”

  Ash crooked an eyebrow at her. “You don’t know?”

  “Oh dear, I mean that I feel as if I know him from somewhere, that when I look at him the name just rises out of the depths of my mind but I don’t know why.”

  “I see. And what exactly did he ask you to do?”

  Ash remained standing over the woman, Silas remaining on guard on the other side.

  “He contacted me in London a few weeks back,” Chrysanthe continued. “I had... um, a problem. He offered to mend it for me, if I worked for him.”

  Silas narrowed his eyes on her.

  “Yes, go on,” Ash said, sounding snippy. Tristan continued to happily eat at the table, content with letting Ash play interrogator. She was better at it than him. Usually calmer too.

  “Oh dear, you see, I um…” The pythia was looking down at her hands, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. “I sort of lost my sight and he knew and wanted to help.”

  Looking stunned and hurt, Silas slowly lowered himself to the sofa. “Agapi mou,” he whispered. “Why?”

  “Oh dear,” she said turning to look at him, “I’m sorry, love. I hadn’t wanted to worry you with such a trivial thing.”

  He took her hands into his, fuchsia eyes full of pain. He didn’t need to form words for her to understand him. Chrysanthe heaved a deep breath and turned on the sofa again, leaning back so that she was staring out at nothing, Ash in her peripheral on one side with Mamoru and Tristan behind her, Silas on the other, Desmond farther out, watching with seeming disinterest.

  “The Professor said he knew I was having trouble seeing and that he could help me. Not only that, if I did but a few small things for him in return, he would reward me with special gifts that no other possessed. He promised me that I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone, just perhaps pretend in some instances. The burdens I was asked to bare would be worth the payout. So when he bound Silas to me and gave me the gift of elf magic… How was I to say no?”

  “You stupid, selfish, childish witch,” Ash bit out.

  Chrysanthe visibly winced. “Yes. But I was so blinded by the rush of power and promise of foresight again, that I didn’t mind. Oh dear, he never asked me to kill anyone, only to act as if I meant to. You see, he wanted me to pretend to want to kill Mamoru here, to force Tristan to take the man’s side.”

  “His will or another’s?”

  Chrysanthe frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know. He didn’t strike me as the one who made those spells though.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh dear, I don’t know.” She was fiddling with the folds of her skirt again. “He just seemed…
confused. The potion was premade and he stuttered the words so bad I didn’t think it would work. I think he’s just a middle man.”

  Ash nodded, having been thinking the same.

  “How do we find this Professor? Do you have a way to set meetings?”

  The others all turned to look at Tristan and his sudden intervention. He was staring at the pythia with narrowed eyes. The loudmouthed American seemed harmless enough but Ash knew he was stronger than most humans. He killed an older vampire all on his own, vanilla though the man may have been, he was still stronger than humans could handle and one of Malik’s more mentally unstable scions. Not to mention Lucien.

  “Oh dear, he always finds me.”

  “Of course he does,” Tristan muttered before shoving another bite of chicken into his mouth.

  Ash frowned at the glass of whiskey in Tristan’s other hand before turning her attention back to their guests. “How is it that he bound Silas to you?” The elf stiffened at Ash’s question. “It is impossible for pythia to take familiars, and an elf…”

  The pythia sighed and slumped back on the sofa. “He told me it was a secret. There was a ritual, of course, but I was not awake during the process and only woke when it was said and done to drink the potion. After that Silas was my familiar and I could pull earth magic through him and wield it as my own.”

  “Remarkable,” Ash said, sounding less angry. Her attention went past the pythia to the elf. Ash considered the man a moment. “You both are fools. This man, this Professor, he has twisted you into something unnatural so that he might pervert fate.” Yuki’s incessant meddling was nothing compared to the damage this Professor had already caused. Ash just hoped it wasn’t too late to set their course back on its proper path. Of course, fate always corrected itself, but the casualties might be too high a price to pay when it finally caught up.

  “Yes,” Chrysanthe answered in a tiny voice. “I see that now.”

  “Were you the one who helped Genoveva?”

  The pythia exchanged a weary look with her elf. “Oh dear, I didn’t offer you to her if that’s what you mean. When I arrived at that place, that home, you both were unconscious. But I was told to collect the man by any and all means… I didn’t even know it was you until I’d arrived. I am sorry dear, I hadn’t wanted to leave you to that crazy vampire, but I had to do what I was told.”

  “By this Professor?”

  Chrysanthe nodded.

  Shifting on her feet, Ash crossed her arms over her chest. “It was not the incident in my abandoned home I speak of. You are the one who gave that beast the spell to humanize me.”

  The other woman blanched. “Humanize…?” Her eyes darted to Tristan who just shrugged at her. When she caught Mamoru’s attention, he only stared, jaw stiff and eyes accusing. Ash too wore the same look, filled with deeper anger. “Oh dear, what’s become of you?”

  Ash lifted her chin. “Nothing that cannot be remedied presently. Give me the counter spell.”

  Chrysanthe’s brown eyes widened in fear and she jumped to her feet, squeaking, “You think I have it?”

  “Careful,” Silas warned softly, almost unheard under the pounding of blood in Chrysanthe’s ears. His eyes were fixed on Desmond, silent and all but nearly forgotten. The man was watching without making it obvious. Of all the others in the room, it was the ever prattling, suddenly struck silent Scotsman that worried Silas the most.

  “Desmond?” Ash questioned.

  The man sighed, rubbing at his stiff hair. “She’s no’ lyin’ but her mind’s a bloody mess. Someone’s been in there, fooking ‘round.”

  “I see,” Ash said, sounding terribly disappointed as she realized the woman really didn’t know what Ash meant. Chrysanthe herself had been spelled, no surprise.

  “Asta—Ash,” the pythia said, pleading in her eyes and sorrow in her voice. “What has become of you?”

  “Nothing you are able to see remedy to, apparently.”

  “Apparently,” Tristan echoed in a rough tone saying he was disappointed too.

  The pythia frowned, realizing she’d just been insulted. “Oh dear, I wish to help.”

  “Then tell us where to find this Professor then,” Tristan said as he stood, belly full and veins filled with warmth again.

  Chrysanthe sighed, sitting back against the sofa. “Oh dear, I told you, he finds me.”

  “He plays you,” Ash spit out and then heaved a sigh, turning away from the couple on the sofa. Her eyes fell on Tristan and he quirked a tiny smile at her. She shook her head, at a loss. She was tempted to just bite the woman, but the mere thought of drinking blood right then put Ash right off it. She didn’t have her usual hunger, for good or bad.

  “I suggest we take a trip.”

  Understanding her meaning, Tristan nodded and sighed, gathering up his gun and knife. “I’m getting really sick of water…”

  “No, no bloody way!” Desmond all but screamed as he burst from his seat. Everyone in the room started at his outburst except Ash. “I’ll no go there. No one can make us, not even yew Asta.”

  Ash gave him an apologetic smile but knew better than to say the words. “I would have you stay with these two.”

  Desmond’s eyes flicked to the stiff couple, his own stance relaxing. “Aye.”

  “We can help,” Chrysanthe pleaded. “Oh dear, let us help.”

  Ash stopped and turned slow on the ball of a foot, eyes narrowing on the woman. “I believe you have done enough helping.”

  The pythia’s lips pressed into a tight line. She wanted to argue but knew better than to press her luck. She counted herself gifted to still own her very life after the mess she’d found herself in.

  Ash turned into Tristan, slipping an arm around his waist and giving his rear a little pinch that everyone noticed. He made a fun little noise for her before marching them to the door.

  “I will accompany you, if you don’t mind,” Mamoru called out.

  Tristan flinched at what it could mean to be alone with Mamoru and Ash. He liked the man but didn’t need to be reminded of how he knew Ash. Next to him, Ash didn’t even break a beat, answering with a cheerful, “Come along. We have a boat to catch.”

  When they were outside, Tristan asked, “What’s up with Desmond? If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he was afraid.”

  The look Ash and Mamoru exchanged said it all. “Most of us fear the place we died.”

  “Desmond died on Crete?” Seemed strange since the man was from Scotland.

  She nodded, forward pace determined as she angled towards the car. “During the war that was meant to have taken my human husband. He was a prisoner in his own lands before the French bought him, in turn he was sent off to fight with Greece against the Ottomans. Vampires are drawn to war, an unfortunate thing for those wanting to die just once in their lives. That is where Yukihime found him, dying on the battlefield.”

  The others were silent for a moment, taking in Desmond’s story. It was only a part of who the vampire was, but Tristan was starting to shape new ideas of who Desmond really was with this new knowledge. Didn’t mean they were BFF’s or nothing.

  “You know there’s no ferries this late in the day, right?” Mamoru interjected softly.

  Ash shot him an embarrassed smile. “I know. I just did not wish to spend the rest of night with the others.” Her expression hardened as she climbed into the driver’s seat of the little rental. “And I wanted some time alone with Tristan.”

  Mamoru stopped his motion to climb in the back behind Tristan. “I should stay here.”

  “No,” Ash said sounding tired and started the car. “Tristan might need you.”

  Tristan frowned at the two talking as if he weren’t there and, for once, decided to keep his big mouth shut. It was just nearing one in the morning and with more than four more hours of dark, he wondered what there was to be said that he’d need the support of a stranger to get through.

  16: Nothing More Nothing Less

  BLASTED!”
Ash’s form of a curse echoed strangely in the close quarters as she dropped a stone larger than her head with ease. She may have been spelled human but she was still a vampire at the heart of it all. She was faster and stronger but couldn’t hear thoughts or pull an aura, not that she needed to with how she currently looked.

  “Sorry, Ash,” Tristan said, feeling helpless and tired. He was warm now, almost hot, but he was tired. Shivering was hard work. So was fighting off death.

  She crouched in the little hole under the stairs and shut her eyes, huffing. “It was just a blind hope that it would have remained here.”

  “Hope’s a good thing to have.”

  Ash opened her eyes and looked up to Tristan. He was leaning against a wall that stopped hip-height, arms over his chest. The moon was waning gibbous, but the clouds were obscuring its light tonight, doing well in hiding Tristan’s expression in a deep shadow. Rain was on the horizon again. His tone said he was sincere in her being unable to find the book she was hoping was still there, a memento of her mother’s, and mother’s before, going back until God knew when, but Ash couldn’t read Tristan and that aggravated her to no end. And so she said so without restraint to her choice of words for once.

  “I really hate that I cannot hear your thoughts.”

  Across the room, near the front door that held no arch to prove it was even a doorway, Mamoru chuckled.

  Tristan’s eyes fell on the man and he said, “I don’t.”

  Ash stood, climbing out from under the half crumbled stairs and moving cautiously towards him. “Tristan?”

  Mamoru, hearing both of the other’s thoughts shook his head and quietly excused himself. He wasn’t going to go far, having taken on the duty of unofficial bodyguard to them both. He’d move just far enough away to be able to react should anything happen but give the couple some privacy to fight. Because he saw it coming. Tasted the bitter emotions in the air without even needing to read anyone’s thoughts.

  “We’re even now. I like that, that’s all.”