Kindling Flames: Blazing Moon (The Ancient Fire Series Book 6)

by Julie Wetzel

  “You’re not coming?” Krissy asked in a worried tone. She did not want to go with the strange little man.

  Elliot shook his head. “I incited this war; I need to be there to see it through. Besides, someone needs to take Phelan’s place as second.”

  Krissy squeezed his hands. She didn’t want him to go, but she understood why he had to. “I understand.”

  He released her hands and turned her towards Joachim. “I’ll come find you and Phelan when this is over.”

  “If you survive,” Joachim added.

  “Oh, I plan to survive,” Elliot added. He placed his hand in the small of Krissy’s back and ushered her into motion. He nodded when she glanced back at him. “I don’t have any intentions of being killed by a measly werewolf.”

  Joachim chuckled. “There’s more than one werewolf out there tonight. Rumor has it that something more sinister has had a hand in tonight’s affair.”

  Elliot raised an eyebrow. “And what would you know of that?”

  “Besides the wolf setting traps in my woods?” Joachim said with a smug air. “Plenty.” He turned his attention to Krissy. “Come here, my dear.”

  Krissy was apprehensive, but she took the man’s hand and turned to stand at his side.

  Joachim curled her hand over his arm before turning his attention back to Elliot. “Your original fifty coins bought the young lady’s safe and timely passage, so I’ll give you a word of warning in exchange for the extra five. Something good has come to this city with dark intentions.” Joachim turned and started to lead Krissy deeper into the stone keep. “Your master was a much luckier child than he realized, but luck isn’t always a kind lady. He would be wise to safeguard himself and his blood, lest some accident should befall them when his luck runs out.”

  Unsure what to make of the warning, Elliot watched as Joachim led Krissy deeper into the keep. He worried for the young woman’s safety for a moment before turning and making his way back out the front door. Magic brushed across his skin as he stepped through the veil between worlds and back out into the night. He glanced at the cabin before turning and striding off into the darkness. There wasn’t much time before he needed to meet up with Rupert, and he still needed to get his longsword and silver knife from Phelan’s car. For a moment, he wished that Joachim had let Zak come. The hellhound would have been helpful in the battle to come, but the kabouter didn’t want the other fay on his land. They would just have to make do without him.

  ***

  Krissy held on to Joachim’s arm as they walked through the darkened castle. She looked around, but couldn’t see very far.

  “You don’t need to be here, my dear,” Joachim said in a soft voice.

  Krissy looked over at him, shocked. His voice sounded like he cared what happened to her. “But I do.”

  Joachim turned and looked at her with those inhuman eyes. They glowed faintly in the dark. “Werewolf wars have nothing to do with humans.”

  Offended, Krissy straightened to her full height. “Phelan is my mate. He needs me.”

  The mysterious fay considered her before turning back to watch where they were going. “All the more reason for you to go home.”

  Krissy’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying?” she asked, not understanding his implication. She did not trust this strange old man.

  Joachim gave her a sidelong glance. “I take it your mate didn’t tell you everything about mating?”

  “We haven’t been mated long.” She considered stopping at that, but she wanted to know what he knew. “It was kind of an accident.”

  “An accident?” he asked, raising a curious eyebrow at her.

  Krissy shrugged and turned, refusing to meet his eyes. She didn’t know how it happened, so she didn’t know how to explain it.

  “I see,” Joachim said and looked forwards again. “Then you both have much to talk about. I hope he gets the chance to share.” He paused for a few seconds before explaining. “Werewolves are highly protective of their mates. They will stop at nothing to make sure of their safety.”

  This made a lot of sense to Krissy. She’d seen how normal animals protected their mates. That also explained why Phelan had been so adamant about her not coming to help. He would have been too distracted keeping her safe to concentrate on the daemon.

  Joachim went on. “The fate of mates is unequivocally intertwined.”

  It didn’t take Krissy long to derive a meaning from the fay’s words. “So if I die…”

  “Your mate may not survive the night.”

  Krissy’s heart dropped.

  “But fear not,” Joachim said, patting her hand. “You’re not fully were. You’ll weather his death better than he’ll survive yours.”

  She turned this over in her head for a few seconds, letting it sink in. Once she came to grips with her position, she tightened her jaw with determination. “I won’t let him die.”

  Joachim chuckled. “A fighter. I like that.” The hall they were following came to a T-junction and they turned left. “But that may not be enough to save your wolf.” He gave her another sidelong look. “Are you still bound to try?”

  “Yes,” Krissy said, setting her mind towards the task.

  Halfway down the hall, Joachim turned and pushed open a door leading out. He stopped and turned to face Krissy. “Then I will give you what help I can.” He held his hand out and pulled a halberd out of thin air.

  Krissy stared at the six-foot tall pole tipped with a huge metal spear with an axe blade on each side.

  “What your mate is fighting is not of your world. It will have minions out there to protect it.” Joachim said, holding the poleaxe out to Krissy. “Take this. It will help you defend your wolf.” He forced the weapon into Krissy’s hands.

  She tried not to take it, but once he released it, she didn’t want to drop it. The blades on the end looked wickedly sharp. “I don’t know how to use this,” she said, holding it out.

  Joachim gave her another sharp smile. His eyes narrowed with malevolent joy. “That’s the beauty of a fay blade. You don’t have to know how it works. Just point it at your target and it will find its way in.”

  Krissy shivered at the evil in his voice.

  Before she could hand him the pole back, he turned her and pointed out the door. “That path will take you to your wolf.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her forwards through the door. “Just follow it to its end and don’t stray.”

  Krissy stepped out of the castle and on to the bare dirt behind the building. “But I…” She turned around to face Joachim, but found she was no longer inside a castle. The old fay stood framed in the doorway of the log cabin.

  “Just keep to the path and you’ll arrive safely,” he said. Stepping back in, he closed the door leaving her standing in the woods.

  Clutching the poleaxe, Krissy stared at the door. She thought about banging on it and insisting he tell her what was going on. It looked like she was standing at the back of the same cabin that she’d entered, but they had walked a fair distance through the castle. It was too much for her mind to get a grip on. Turning around, she scanned the tree line and found the opening to a path. She walked over and looked down it. It was really dark.

  Tucking the weapon into the crook of her arm, she pulled out her phone, turned on the flashlight app, and pointed it down the path. It looked solid and well trodden. She would have no troubles following it. Glancing back at the small house, she considered going home. She could drop the strange weapon against the back wall and go around to her car parked out front. Shaking that thought away, she glanced at the clock on her phone. There was not much time left before the wolves were to meet.

  Straightening her spine, Krissy repositioned the halberd so she could carry it and started down the path towards Phelan. She didn’t care what she found at the end; she wasn’t about to let her mate face a daemon alone. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure they both came out of this ordeal alive.

&nb
sp; Standing back from his work, Phelan swung his flashlight back and forth, studying the symbols he’d etched into the dirt. The chalk-filled lines flashed as the light swept across them. There was only a few left to finish. Phelan wiped the back of his hand across his brow, clearing away the sweat and spreading white powder across his forehead. Placing his hands on his lower back, he stood up, stretching the ache from his back. He’d been bent over, drawing on the ground, since shortly after sunset.

  It would have been much easier to draw the complicated designs in the daylight, but Elliot had convinced him of the need to do the work under the cover of darkness. Rupert and Eckert had met with Joachim earlier in the day. They’d both paid the fay handsomely to ensure the grounds were free of spells and traps. Even though he was a fair distance from where the actual fight was to take place, the summoning circle Phelan would need to contain the daemon could easily be seen as a trap and would violate their part of the deal with the fay.

  Turning from the circle, Phelan shoveled more chalk into the bag he’d been using to fill in the symbols. The sound of a twig snapping caught his attention, and he looked towards the source. He scanned the tree line, but he didn’t see anything. For a while now, he had the feeling something was watching him, but he didn’t have the time to go find out what it was. He glanced at his watch. 2:48. Twelve minutes left. He stared off to the right, but the wolves gathering in the woods were too far away for him to see. In twelve minutes, the signal would go up, and all hell would break loose.

  He turned away from the woods and refocused on the circle. He had twelve minutes to finish filling in the symbols, and then to place the rest of the items he’d need to summon the daemon. He had to have everything done by three AM. That was the only time a daemon could manifest physically in this plane of reality. He had to summon the thing just before the fighting started. It would pull the daemon’s influence away from the rest of the wolves, giving the Brenton pack the fighting chance they needed. It would also leave Phelan to face off with the daemon alone. A task he wasn’t looking forwards to. Krissy had helped him learn the Latin and practice the ceremony, but he was still apprehensive about trying it out on a real minion of evil. He’d asked Elliot to give him odds on his chances, but the vampire has sidestepped his question and changed the subject. Phelan had the feeling Elliot knew the answer wasn’t good and had avoided sharing to give Phelan more hope. It hadn’t worked much.

  Phelan shook the doubt from his mind and concentrated on finishing his task. No matter what the outcome was, he had a job to do, and he was going to do it even if it cost him his life.

  ***

  Krissy crouched in the darkness as Phelan got back to work. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she carefully moved her foot off the stick. The thin light from the moon hadn’t been enough for her to see it, and she nearly died when the twig snapped under her heel. Her hand tightened around the halberd lying at her side as she watched Phelan bend over and start filling in the last of the intricate work. She was dying to go out and help him, but Joachim’s words kept echoing through her brain. The old fay was right. Letting Phelan know she was there would only distract him. He would do a better job if she stayed out of his way and let him concentrate.

  Flipping her phone over, Krissy checked the time. The war between the wolf packs was supposed to begin in a few minutes. Closing her eyes, she opened herself up and let her awareness reached out into the night. She could feel Phelan concentrating on his work, but that was the only presence she could sense in the area. Of course, her gifts weren’t known to be very effective at a distance. She was much better at feeling others when they were close.

  Opening her eyes, she watched the tree line on the other side of the clearing, waiting for something to happen. Krissy wasn’t sure where the two packs were meeting, but she hadn’t encountered anyone along the path that brought her here. They had to be somewhere on the other side of the clearing Phelan was working in. She looked back over her shoulder into the darkened woods thinking about the strange trail she’d taken. She’d had no problem following it to its end, but now that she was here, she couldn’t find it again. It was like the woods had led her to her goal, and then closed up behind her.

  Krissy shifted her weight again as her legs tired. Thankfully, nothing cracked under her this time. She watched as Phelan finished the circle and stood up. Carefully, she picked up the poleaxe and stood up so she could admire his work. Over the past day, she’d seen Phelan copy out that design so many times, but in a much smaller scale. Just seeing the nine-foot circle stretching across the glade was impressive. Inside was a great serpent that spiraled around itself. The white chalk shone in the pale moonlight, letting her read the Devine Names written along the serpent’s back. Phelan had a good eye and had done an excellent job of enlarging the drawing Elliot had given him.

  On the north side of the circle was a large triangle with more strange marking markings along its sides. Krissy couldn’t read the words from where she stood hidden in the trees, but she knew it held the name of four Great Chiefs. Masters that controlled all the legions of hell, or that was what Elliot had told her. He’d been reluctant to say more, claiming just mentioning the names could draw their attention. He’d explained that normally only one of the names was written in the triangle, but since Elliot did not know which Master this daemon belonged to, he’d instructed Phelan on the proper placement of all four. It would make the spell weaker, but by invoking all of them, Phelan was sure to get the master of the daemon he was trying to catch. Krissy didn’t fully understand it, but she’d forced herself to accept it and have faith in Elliot.

  Krissy didn’t know if Elliot had meant for her to learn all this arcane knowledge, but she had picked it up faster than Phelan had. She’d spent the afternoon helping Elliot drill the Latin ceremonies into Phelan’s head. The man was smart, but the dead language threw him off. Krissy’s medical background had helped her with most of the words and she, in turn, had helped Phelan learn them. She recited the incantation in her head again, feeling the weight in the words. There was power there she didn’t understand.

  Turning her attention away from the circle, Krissy watched as Phelan went over to the bag that held the rest of his supplies. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as Phelan stretched, pulled off his shirt, and stood bare chested in the moonlight. She drew in a sharp breath. The sound must have caught Phelan’s attention because he stopped and looked around. Krissy leaned into the tree next to her, hoping the night was dark enough so he wouldn’t see her.

  ***

  Swinging his flashlight over the circle, Phelan checked to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied with his work, he dropped the bag he’d used to spread the chalk into the bigger box of chalk, scooped both up, and carried it over to his duffle bag. Setting the chalk out of the way, he stood up and stretched his arms over his head. His back let out a series of pops as his spine realigned itself. He gave it a good twist before pulling his dirty shirt over his head. A sound from the woods grabbed his attention, and he turned to see what it was.

  The light from the moon cast the area into shadows. It should have been enough for Phelan to see, but his eyes were too used to the brighter light of the flashlight he’d been using. He drew in a breath to test the air, but the wind was blowing the wrong way. Unable to see anything unusual, he decided he could do the rest of his work by the moonlight. That way he wouldn’t be at a disadvantage if something came at him from the dark.

  Turning off his flashlight, Phelan pulled a jug of water from his bag. He used it to wash the dirt from his hands before standing up and pouring the rest of it over his head. He whimpered as the cold water splashed down his skin, but he needed to be clean before he began. Wiping the water around his body, Phelan made sure he got as much of the chalk and sweat off as he could. The cold night air blew across him, making him shiver.

  Dropping the empty gallon jug, Phelan got a towel out and quickly dried off. He dug back in the bag and retrieved a shirt. The
white linen of the shirt blocked the night air from his skin as he slipped it over his head and belted it in place with the strip of leather Elliot had given him. Kneeling down, he took out a short sword and the wooden case from Darien’s closet.

  Opening the box, Phelan looked down inside and smiled. Only Darien would have an antique vampire hunter’s kit stashed away in his closet. Moving the contents of the case around, Phelan found the metal medallion they’d used as the template for the ones they made for the pack. He looped the golden disk around his neck and let it drop to his chest.

  He took a piece of rolled-up parchment, a package of incense, some oil, and a box of matches out before closing up the case and putting it aside. From the bag, he took an iron brassier filled with charcoal and the brass cup Elliot had gotten from Darien’s bag. He carefully loaded everything up and took it over to the empty space between the triangle and the top of his circle. Pausing for a moment, he studied the layout before placing the iron dish on the ground.

  Unloading his haul, he rolled the brass cup up in the back of his shirt, making sure it was secure and out of sight. He then positioned the brassier in the space between the triangle and the circle. Opening the vial of oil, he poured some of it on his finger. Its sharp smell made him pull away in disgust, but he rubbed the oil on his temples as Elliot had instructed. He poured the rest of the fragrant oil on the charcoal and lit it. As the fire caught, Phelan strapped the short sword to his belt, tucked the parchment into his sleeve, and took the incense over to the circle. He carefully stepped over the lines to the center.

  The howl of wolves echoed through the woods, and Phelan looked off to his right. That sound could mean only one thing. The battle between the wolves had started. Putting that out of his mind, Phelan turned to face the triangle and tossed the bag of incense into the brassier.

  Blue smoke billowed up as the bag caught fire.