Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  “All comments were made under extreme duress; I was out of my head at the time.”

  “Okay, let’s pretend that I believe that.”

  Pulling the knife out of the sheath at my ankle, I handed it to him. His brow rose, I guess wondering why I walked around with a knife strapped to me. I didn’t know why either; but if it made me feel safe, I was going to do it. Cutting his hand then mine, he clasped my hand into his and chanted several words. The lucent silhouette of the protective guard surrounded us. Then it dropped. “Your turn,” he said.

  “How do I do it?”

  “There’s no spell for this. Defensive magic is at my command. Will it and it will manifest.”

  Clearing my mind, I focused. I willed. Nothing. I tried it again. Still nothing. “I can’t do it.”

  “Skylar, feel what I am doing,” he instructed. He placed the protective field over us again. I felt the wave of power that drew into us. He released my hand from his grasp. “Now you do it.”

  Closing my eyes, I tried again to imitate what I thought he had done. Calling the magic to my command, I opened my eyes to a thin shimmering gold field surrounding us—similar to that of Josh’s. “Cool,” I whispered. I could feel the energy pulsate through me as I became one with magic.

  Josh studied it, then he pushed his hand straight through. “It would be even cooler if it weren’t just a glamour. It works fine as an illusion, but if someone’s trying to hurt you, then you are screwed,” he stated,.

  “Make it stronger.”

  I closed my eyes and called the magic to me again. I didn’t feel anything change but that’s not to say it didn’t. I reached out and poked my hand through the glamour. It hadn’t worked.

  “Skylar, protect yourself.”

  I nodded, but I had no idea how. “I’ll try,” I stated unenthusiastically. Josh made it look so easy, but it wasn’t.

  He nodded slowly as he distanced himself from me. “Protect yourself, Skylar,” he commanded as the drinking glass that sat on the table near us flew toward me. I dropped to my knees to dodge it. Then a book came in my direction and barely missed hitting me. It wasn’t until the table slid across the floor toward me and I had to physically stop it, that I became irritated, “Josh, stop it!” I yelled.

  “No,” he stated firmly. “Skylar, protect yourself,” he commanded.

  He waved his hand, pushing me back against the wall where he held me firmly. His face lost its typical friendly disposition to the point he was scaring me. His lips moved and I felt a sense of warmth creeping up my arm, and I was pulled forcibly to the ground, causing alarming pain.

  “You are hurting me,” I shrieked through clenched teeth.

  “Then make it stop,” he challenged.

  “I can’t,” I responded desperately.

  “You’re not trying.”

  “I don’t know what to do!”

  “It’s in you. Command the magic to do what you will. You want me to stop, then make it stop.”

  I tried again, commanding the wave of magic in me to do my bidding, but nothing more happened other than the useless glamour that covered me. Frustrated and in pain, “I can’t do this,” I admitted in an exasperated breath.

  When he didn’t stop, anger bristled and all I wanted to do was hurt him. I could feel my face becoming flushed. “Just leave me the hell alone!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  With a quick wave of his hand, he made it all stop, and I slid to the ground. I rested my head against the wall catching my breath. “You’re a jerk,” I hissed, wiping my hands over my face.

  “Sorry, that was very wrong of me. It has been my experience that most perform better with a noxious stimulus and high stress situation. Are you okay?”

  “I’m not mostly,” I snapped. We had established that enough times that it wasn’t even debatable. His eyes held a level of remorse that made staying mad at him a challenge. If I were in better spirits, I would have happily taken it on and forgiven him once hell froze over. “I don’t want to do this anymore. It was silly to ask.”

  “It will get easier. I apologize if I scared you, but don’t let my stupid behavior prevent you from exploring your potential,” he urged.

  “I can’t do this right now. We just need to hold off for a while.”

  “Of course.”

  He stood up and offered a hand to help me up. When I took it, his eyes rolled back and his breathing quickened. “Skylar, let go of me.”

  My hands remained fastened to his, unable to release it. “Skylar, let go!” he commanded in a tight voice.

  “I’m trying. What am I doing? Tell me how to stop it!”

  Unable to respond, his eyes darkened the way they had at Caleb’s. My hands sweltered with heat; then we were both were thrown back, hitting opposite ends of the room with force, a force so hard it knocked most of the books off the shelves.

  “We need to help you control the way magic affects you,” he stated between ragged breaths. “I guess I got what I wanted—you protected yourself.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. You’re right; we should stop experimenting until I have a better understanding of your abilities with magic,” he admitted as he stood up.

  “I agree,” stated Ethan dryly from the doorway. “What good is it to save her from the vampires only to let her kill herself with magic?” Disapprovingly, he looked at us, shaking his head, then glared at Josh before he left.

  “I think you’re in trouble again,” I whispered.

  “With Ethan? I dare you to find a time that I am not in trouble with him. Ethan’s not a fan of magic. Too uncontrollable for his liking,” he admitted.

  We sat there is silence. My fingers absent-mindedly found their way to the imprint of the gem. I stroked it, becoming familiar with it as though it were new.

  “The protective field, it can be broken by were-animals, like when Ethan broke yours?”

  Josh gaze shifted away from mine, “Were-animals can break wards; they do it all the time,” he responded in a detached voice. It was the same manufactured statement that Ethan had fed him a couple of days ago and me yesterday. I considered pushing the subject, but I had a feeling I was going to get the same spiel he just gave or simple variants of it. “And vampires? Can they break them too?”

  “Wards cannot be broken by the young ones, but it’s always the older ones you must worry about. If you encounter one over a century, know they didn’t get that old without having special skills and a few tricks,” he admitted. How do I protect myself when there is a disclaimer with most things, putting a wrinkle in the fabric of the rules?

  Josh and I had started to put the books on the shelves. Well, he started, since every time I shelved a book, he removed it and reshelved it somewhere else. This was Josh’s domain, and if anyone decided to encroach on it, he was going to make it difficult. I am sure he and no one else knew the system he was using. It didn’t have a pattern or even a rational placement. “Shouldn’t I be able to find the gem because of what happened the other day?” I asked as he took another one of my shelved books off the bookcase.

  Josh looked at me with a blank stare. He wasn’t considering it. I knew that face all too well. I had shocked him. He nodded slowly biting into his nail. Being around the were-animals didn’t improve his look of impassiveness. He had a tell-tale look when things made him extremely nervous. And his tell-tale was screaming at me.

  “If you knew how to control the magic, you could call it to you, but, in turn, it could do the same. If its power surpassed yours, then when it called, you would answer and would be unable to fight it. You might very well find yourself knocking at the vampires’ door ready to give yourself to them,” he admitted dryly. “It’s too dangerous to try.”

  “No, I don’t want to do anything like that. If I am bound to the book, then am I not indirectly bound to the gem?”

  Apprehensively, he nodded again, trying to figure out where my line of questioning was going.

  “Supp
ose I went to the seethe’s home.” I looked at Josh, whose frown lines deepened. “If the gem were in the vampires’ home, I would be drawn to its location in the same manner I was drawn to the book, right?”

  Josh wasn’t speaking; instead, his jaw was wrenched so tight together that I could see the muscles of his neck become turgid. I was sending him into a medical crisis at the very thought.

  “Well?” I pushed.

  He took a long time to respond as he considered the question. “Yes, in theory, but they have a protective spell on it that may prevent you from finding it ... ”

  “And that’s the riskiest tactic I’ve ever heard. There is no way Sebastian would agree with that,” Steven interjected, walking into the library. Josh looked a little startled, but I wasn’t. My roommate’s scent had become very familiar to me, so I knew he was near.

  “I’m all for risk-taking, but suicide missions aren’t my forte,” Steven continued. Let’s say we take you there, and you don’t sense it. Do you think we would get out of there with you? We might as well put a big red bow around you and place you at their doorstep.”

  “They rest during daylight. We can go then,” I suggested.

  “Yeah, they rest during the day. They aren’t comatose or oblivious to their surroundings. Their sense of smell is just as good as ours if not better. Sorry, but your scent is very distinctive. They would know the very moment you entered the house,” he stated, taking a seat at the table.

  “It’s not a bad idea, just too risky. Daytime would be the worst time to go. From what I observed, they are the most active at the end of the week. They hunt longer and use that time to satisfy their other desires as well. The best time to go would be at night Friday or Saturday,” he suggested.

  Steven sat quietly for a moment, looking over at Josh periodically, who seemed to be fighting off a bout of cardiac arrest. Josh’s hand covered his face, “Let’s discuss it with Sebastian and Ethan and get their thoughts before we consider this any further.”

  Steven nodded, holding a similar look of anxiety that he wore more subtly than Josh. I wondered which one I would send into a panic attack before I left. When I came up with the idea to go the vampires’ home to look for the Gem of Levage, it seemed like a good idea. After careful consideration and debate, it seemed like a good idea to Steven and Josh, who then took the suggestion to Sebastian and Ethan. And after more and louder discussion and debate, it seemed like a good idea, and they agreed. Now, sitting in the SUV, driving down the street toward the seethe’s home, it seemed like pure insanity.

  Like Caleb’s home, it was located closer to the city than the pack’s retreat. It was just minutes into the land of suburbia. We turned down a street, populated with large two- and three-story opulent European-style homes. We stopped in front of a buff-colored, palatial, Mediterranean-style brick house. Unlike Caleb’s home, the vampires didn’t seem to care about privacy. The lawn was sedulously manicured with small shrubberies, outlining the path to the house. One look at the lawn, house and small garden in front of the house, you would expect a traditional family behind the doors—not a blood-sucking family of the undead.

  We got out of the car while Josh and Gavin stayed behind. As I walked toward the house, my heart was beating fast and erratic with each step. The shadow of night covered us, allowing us to move undetected to the home. This block didn’t seem to take part in anticrime strategies like streetlights as other blocks did. Except for a few porch lights and one streetlight on each end of the unusually long block, it was virtually dark. I doubt it was coincidental. Nor did I think it was coincidental that the door was unlocked, inviting visitors who would undoubtedly never leave.

  Ethan opened the door and entered first. I was surprised; as with Caleb’s home, it was beautifully decorated. I expected the typical tacky gothic décor I had seen on the Web or the dark creepy vampire lair in the campy horror flicks. The urban chic décor, complete with dark contemporary straight lined furniture, went far beyond my expectations. The home even had a fully furnished kitchen with stainless steel appliances. I had no idea why— perhaps their garden members needed to eat and maybe. at times, the vampires themselves had a hankering for a sandwich.

  Standing in the foyer of the house, I closed my eyes and concentrated, anticipating that same pull that led me to the “Symbols of Death” would soon take over. When I didn’t feel anything, I stepped in further. The scents of the house were distinctive, just like the were-animals’ retreat. I expected the house wouldn’t have a scent because they weren’t alive; but it did indeed. It was an odd smell, a cross between fresh linen and blood. I crept up the stairs with Ethan walking obnoxiously close.

  I pushed the slightly ajar door further open, entering a dark room with light filtering blinds that smothered out even the slightest hint of light from the moon. I expected a coffin or something coffin-like, but instead, there was a sumptuous king-size bed decorated with richly colored pillows and a duvet. The room was meticulously neat, preposterously spacious and everything I didn’t expect.

  I continued through the house. A distinctive scent caught my attention and I followed it to the far end of the hall to a bedroom that I was sure belonged to Demetrius. Everything about it seemed to exude him and the presence I felt during my vision. The walls were painted in rich cinnamon with light accents. Decorated with tasteful artifacts, mahogany-textured furniture and unique wall art, the room had an exotic feel. Demetrius’s scent, I assumed, overwhelmed the room, but Chris’s scent was heavily enmeshed throughout as well. Obviously, Ethan sensed it as well because his breathing stopped for a short period and his face twisted in revulsion before he backed out of it. I stayed behind, trying to get a feel of it. If the gem were anywhere, it had to be here.

  When it wasn’t easily found, frustration took over my search. I began rummaging through the drawers, looking under the bed and through the closets. With each failed attempt, I closed the doors harder. Eventually my pursuit became nothing more than me opening and slamming drawers and doors.

  “Skylar, we are not here for that,” Ethan stated coolly as he stood at the door.

  Sensing my frustration, he placed a hand lightly on my shoulder, “Demetrius is smart, I doubt he’s hid it in his underwear drawer,” he stated in a low, controlled voice. “Just do what we came to do, okay.”

  I walked out of the room and went into the other six rooms, sensing nothing. Oh, come on, I thought desperately. I closed my eyes, waiting for that enigmatic pull that would lead me to the very thing that would end this madness. As I walked through the living room, kitchen and dining room, I searched through any nearby drawers and closets, when Ethan wasn’t looking. I was resigned to the idea that I wasn’t leaving without the Gem of Levage in my possession—I couldn’t.

  I started toward the stairs to search the basement when Ethan’s ears pricked: he turned his head slightly. “We need to leave,” he whispered. I hesitated, desperately wanting to continue the search.

  “Now,” he urged, pulling me toward the front door.

  “Unexpected guests,” stated an expressionless man with a northeastern dialect, leaning against the wall. His lips curved slightly into a forced smile. When he turned toward me, his smile vanished. His peculiar, verdigris green eyes shone so brightly it was like staring into fluorescent lights. They stared back at me intently.

  He pushed himself up from the wall, his face void of all human expression. He kept a keen focus in my direction. He wasn’t breathing, but I could hear a faint heartbeat. What the hell was he doing with a heartbeat? When his lips turned up again at another attempt at a smile, he exposed his fangs. Okay, he was definitely a vampire—I think. Well, he was definitely not human—I think. He wasn’t quite human, but didn’t seem to be a true vampire either. A creature stuck in a place of in-between. I had no idea what he was, but unless he had the gem in his possession, I didn’t much care.

  Standing poised, he held the confidence of one who knew that he could defeat his opponent if necessary. His g
aze shifted back and forth between me and Ethan before staying fixed on me. “It’s her. The one that our Master desires,” he stated in a low whisper. With his flat affect, indiscernible heartbeat and absent breath sounds, I couldn’t tell how he felt about her.

  Steven moved quickly behind him, grabbing the in-between in a chokehold.

  “Steven, release him.” Ethan requested calmly, keeping his eyes on the questionable vampire.

  “Take Skylar to the Tahoe; I will be there in a moment. I need to talk to … ” he raised his eyebrow, waiting for a name. `

  “They call me Quella Perduta, Quell for short,” he stated, forcing an Italian accent with the pronunciation of his name as he rubbed his hand across his neck. Intrigued and bewildered, I couldn’t bring myself to stop looking at his oddly colored eyes.

  “They call you “the lost one.” I dare not ask why,” Ethan responded smoothly.

  A mischievous smile crept on Quell’s face. “Good, because I dare not answer,” he admitted, his voice just as smooth as Ethan’s. Quella Perduta looked like a porcelain doll. His features were so perfect that you couldn’t help but stare, while you played “look for the flaw” in your head. His short, wavy, deep-brown hair complimented his strong jaw line and striking good looks. He should have been appealing, but instead, he just looked—odd. His unnaturally astounding beauty made him more disturbing than alluring. Perfection was his flaw.

  “What were you called before?”

  “It doesn’t matter because he no longer exists. Since my creation, I have been Quella Perduta.” His expression was a desolate well. He made an attempt at a smile again, but it seemed like more effort than he was capable of. “I may indeed be considered the lost one, but they value my existence tremendously. My mistress and master will be quite saddened if it were taken. I guarantee revenge will be sought.” His face was a plain mask, showing little movement and no emotions as he spoke. The thing that stood before us was just a shadow of a person—a heartbeat without a life. Was it strange that I felt sorry for him? He didn’t seem to belong in this world any more than I did.