Taken by Moonlight

by Violette Dubrinsky

  Conall barely heard him as he walked over to the desk. An album lay there. He flipped it open, and his teeth clenched so hard that his jaw hurt. In the album were pictures of his mate, her sister, her mother, and her friends. He closed the album and continued to rummage. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but something told him that whatever it was, it would be there.

  He found it moments later. An envelope. A pristine white envelope with his last name scrawled across it. Opening it, he pulled out the sheet of cream-colored, engraved paper, and read the contents.

  If you’re reading this, then you’re in my house. Regrettably, I’m no longer there, nor are Evelyn and Cassandre, and soon you will find that even Vivienne is not where she should be. Really, Athelwulf, did you think it would be this easy?

  Tossing the letter, Conall reached into his jacket for his cell phone and immediately dialed Sloan.

  His beta picked up immediately.

  “Where’s Vivienne?”

  “In your room,” was Sloan’s immediate response.

  Conall calmed, but only slightly. “I need to know that she’s in there.”

  “I understand.” Conall waited, looking around the study as Sloan went in search of his mate. There were weres everywhere, pressing against levers to see if hidden panels was concealed, moving through rooms with guns drawn….

  He heard the sound of a door opening, and then Sloan cursed. Conall’s entire body tensed.

  Even before Sloan said it, he knew what his beta would say.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Find her!” Conall snapped. Closing the phone, he rushed for the door.

  ***

  Santiago, who’d read the letter after Conall and had listened to some of his conversation with Sloan, followed, yelling for his pack to do the same. From Conall’s expression and his determined strides, something was off, possibly with his mate, and if that was case, and Maximilian Cronin was involved, the issue had just grown much larger, and much more serious.

  As they stepped from the empty house, Santiago briefly wondered if this was to be the beginning of the end of the Council. Cronin had broken Council laws by taking the druid and her mother, but he’d just crossed an irreparable line by taking an alpha’s mate, if it was as Santiago suspected and that was what the foolish grand wizard had done.

  Curling his lip, Santiago moped slightly. If Conall didn’t have the right to spill Cronin’s blood, he would gladly kill the bastard. He might have still considered it if he’d found Cronin before Conall, but now, that was impossible. Pack law demanded that in any case where a female was taken, her mate receive satisfaction. Cronin was as good as gift-wrapped for Conall.

  As Conall sprinted through trees, his pack easily keeping up with him, a naked Dominic and similarly outfitted Drako came to stand beside Santiago.

  “What’s happening?” Dominic enquired, staring at Conall’s retreating frame. His pack members were quick at his heels.

  “Gentlemen,” Santiago began, drawing himself up to his full height, and cracking his neck loudly. He looked to Dominic and then Drako. Both brothers stared at him curiously. Smiling coldly, he declared, “We’re going to war.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cassie awoke to a vicious pain in the side of her head.

  She opened her eyes and immediately closed them. The pain only intensified. She blinked once, twice, and finally, squinted against the soft yellow light. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out objects, shapes. She lay prone in some type of reclined leather covered chair, the golden chains that Cronin had used still securing her, this time to the chair’s handle. Looking up, she saw three dark circles. She squinted and noticed the circles seemed very familiar. Her location seemed familiar, but her mind just couldn’t grasp why. Sighing, Cassie closed her eyes once more.

  Where am I? Even as she asked that question, she remembered her mental conversation with Vivienne, Maximilian Cronin was trying to manipulate her sister to come for them.

  Her eyes flew open. Had Vivienne listened to him? She hoped not. Cassie tried to push herself up, and only then did she realize that not only was she chained to the chair, she was strapped down. She blinked. No, not strapped down. It was a seatbelt. She lifted her eyes to the dark circles once more, and with her clearer vision, noticed they were an air conditioning portal, a light bulb, and what looked like a button. The sound in the background was that of an engine.

  I’m on a plane. Even as that information settled, more questions came. What the hell was she doing on a plane? She lifted her head as far as she could, and looked around. She was alone. Where was her mother? Had they done anything to Evelyn while she’d been out?

  As panic set in, she willed herself to calm down. She thought of clear, sunny skies, the great outdoors, anything to calm her nerves. She was doing fine. Her heart rate grew steady, her breathing normalizing, when a vision of Alexander Petraeus came to her. He seemed to be looking in on her, his face an impassive mask, pale eyes unreadable. Cassie’s opened her eyes instantly. He was standing before her. She blinked, and then blinked again. He was still there, staring down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

  Calm was a thing of the past.

  ***

  After thanking Rafael for the ride, Vivienne had made her way into the airport and frozen. She was slowly beginning to recognize she hadn’t quite thought her plan through. What was she to do now? He’d told her to meet him at the airport, but the airport was huge. Did he mean departures or arrivals? Would he think she hadn’t shown up, and would he then kill her family?

  She spun around, her eyes searching for—she didn’t exactly know who or what—but as she stood there, looking around the Departures section for anything that would alert her of Maximilian Cronin, and her family, she noticed that there were men, many men, dressed in all-over black, at different points in the wing. Feeling her hackles rise, she drew in a deep breath, scenting that they were witches.

  Unsure of what she was expected to do, she remained where she was, her senses on the alert, her powers swarming just below the surface of her skin. One of the men approached her. Like the trackers she’d seen before, he was dressed in all black. The only difference was that his face was visible.

  “Where’s my mother? My sister?” she asked as soon as he was close enough to hear her clearly.

  “Follow me.” He did not wait for her nod or answer, but turned and began heading for the exit.

  Vivienne easily kept up with his purposeful stride. “Where are we going?”

  “To your mother and sister.”

  “Where?”

  When he didn’t answer, only continued walking, Vivienne gripped his arm and pulled him to a stop. He cut his eyes down to her hand and a scowl touched his lips but after seconds, he replied, “VIP lounge.”

  Vivienne released him, and he shook his hand, as if shaking off her hold.

  “This had better not be a—”

  “The grand wizard is waiting for you.”

  He’d cut her off from saying that it had better not be a setup, because Vivienne was in no mood for games. Her mother and sister were being held by a mad witch who craved power, and she was a druid who’d just found out that becoming enraged released powers that wreaked enough havoc to be called cataclysmic. If Maximilian Cronin thought that he was going to set her up, he had another think coming. Quite literally.

  ***

  “Get away from me.”

  Cassie felt helpless, because essentially…she was. Her powers were gone due to the chains securing her, making it impossible for her to get away from Alexander Petraeus. He could easily kill her, and she couldn’t even put up a semblance of a fight.

  “You do not understand, Cassandre,” he began slowly, reaching out a hand as if to touch her. She flinched backward, wishing the chair behind her would give out so that she could escape. As if sensing her disgust, he withdrew his hand and took a step back.

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to see him. He
only reminded her that this was all her fault. “Go away. Haven’t you done enough already?”

  He didn’t answer, and after minutes of hearing the white noise of the jet’s engine, Cassie opened her eyes, thinking she’d dreamed him, or imagined him. She hadn’t, because he was still there. The only difference was that now he was perched on the edge of a seat, watching her.

  “Why are you still here?”

  “Because I want you to understand—”

  “Understand what, Alexander? That you made me trust you, then betrayed me? That everything you’ve told me is a lie? God, how gullible you must have thought me, how stupid and ignorant and naïve.”

  “I don’t think you are any of those things. You’re beautiful woman with a large, kind heart, a love of nature—”

  “WHY ARE YOU HERE? You’re going to get everything you wanted. The druids will be resurrected. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  He didn’t deny it. “Yes.”

  “Go away, Alexander.”

  “I will allow nothing to happen to you.”

  “I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

  “That is understandable.”

  Cassie closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, intent on yelling at him for being the biggest ass she’d yet encountered, he was gone.

  ***

  Once more, Conall tried his mental connection with Vivienne, and once more, he found her silent. She’d put up a mental block he couldn’t get through unless he wanted to hurt her. A curse left his lips.

  After leaving Cronin’s covenant, and driving at break-neck speed back to Cedar Creek, he’d learned two things. His mate had not been kidnapped as no witch had been scented on the grounds, and Vivienne and Rafael had ridden off together to an airport. Sloan had tracked their scents to LaGuardia, and Conall followed. He had many questions, like why Vivienne would leave to go to Cronin without contacting Conall or why she went with Rafael, knowing what she knew of the were, but he was more concerned with locating her first.

  Scanning the crowded airport, he closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint her scent. It was hard, especially around so many humans, with their random mixes of musk, perfumes, and other odors, and because it seemed like Vivienne’s scent was all over the airport. It was almost as if someone was purposely trying to throw them off, and Conall suspected that was exactly as it was.

  “Through the double doors?” Raoul asked, his nostrils flaring as if he, too, was picking up on the same location. Their original group had grown in size and split into two upon arriving at the airport. Conall, Raoul, and about seven other weres had headed to Departures while Sloan and the rest had swarmed to Arrivals.

  Nodding, Conall began a brisk walk in that direction. He heard Raoul’s voice, and knew he was alerting Sloan. Even though running would get them there much quicker, no one would do so. It was after all, the airport, and with the recent increase in security, the fact that Conall was on edge and not particularly fond of humans…. It would be better for all parties if they kept their pace to brisk walks.

  Vivienne’s scent only grew stronger as they followed the unseen trail, which led them to two security officers, who took a look at them and shifted their hands to their guns. Conall was so pissed, he wasn’t in the mood to play nice with two frightened officers. If they wanted to reach for guns, so could he.

  As if sensing an oncoming explosion, Raoul stepped in front of him, flashed a calming smile, and began speaking with the officers. In the end, he ended up reaching into his wallet and retrieving a card, which put the officers at ease, enough that they actually smiled. After that, they stepped aside, allowing Conall and his party to proceed.

  “What did you show them?”

  “I’m a VIP member. So are you.”

  Conall’s only response was a grunt. He took the stairs two at a time, following her scent to the last room on the left. Without knocking, he pushed the door open. It was empty but it looked like the third world war had erupted in the place. Chairs were overturned, the coffee table was broken, the paintings on the wall were torn and crooked. Her scent was strongest in here. It was everywhere, as if she’d been there recently.

  And then he caught whiff of another scent. A wolf scent. Rafael. His ears picked up a slight scratching sound, and he followed it to the door at the side of the room. Pushing it open cautiously, he looked down at the battered and bloodied body of a large chestnut-colored wolf and paused. Rafael’s breathing was labored, and every so often a slight whine would leave his lips. What was he doing here?

  Lowering himself, he reached out to touch Rafael’s shoulder. The wolf immediately went on the attack, swiping at him with sharp claws as he struggled to sit up. Instinct made Conall retreat before the wolf’s claws could connect.

  “Rafael!” Conall said firmly, waiting for his green eyes to focus. He saw recognition in the wolf’s gaze moments before he gave up his struggle to sit up, and placed his head against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Many questions rushed him but one was more important, so he asked it. “Where is Vivienne?”

  Taken.

  The weakness of the voice in his head coupled with the fact that Rafael didn’t shift back to his human form told Conall of the severity of his injuries.

  “Taken where?”

  Don’t know. Cronin…it was Cronin. Trackers. Shitload of trackers.

  Conall nodded, feeling his anger mount simultaneously with fear. Rafael was fading, slipping in an out of consciousness, but there was one more question he needed answered.

  “Why are you here?”

  Followed Vivienne. Strange. Her at airport without you.

  Standing, Conall turned to find Raoul standing behind him. “Have them take him back to Cedar Creek.” Most weres could heal themselves, but when they were injured this badly, they needed assistance.

  Conall moved out of the way when two of his pack members entered the bathroom and proceeded to lift the wolf. A dark pool of blood marked the spot where Rafael had been.

  Conall’s phone rang and he answered it. It was Sloan.

  “Santiago just called. Tiberius and Wilhem and are heading to London.”

  Was it a coincidence that Cronin had lured Vivienne to an airport at the same time the other two New York grand wizards were flying to London? He didn’t think so.

  “How does he know?”

  “His pack was watching them. They both boarded jets at JFK within hours of each other. More than likely, that’s where Cronin is.”

  Where Vivienne could be heading, if she was no longer at the airport. He didn’t have to say it. “Call Eirik and Astrid. I want them alert and looking for any increase in witches.”

  Eirik Lieverson and Astrid Lykopis were two pack alphas who sat on the Council in the UK. Conall had met both on various occasions, and he trusted them.

  He turned to Raoul. “Find out if and when Cronin boarded a plane.” It was probably a private jetliner. It didn’t matter. They had people who could tell them what they needed. Soon they would know if he’d boarded the plane, and who’d boarded with him.

  ***

  Vivienne awoke struggling.

  Her hands and feet were bound, and something was in her mouth. She tried to spit it out and found she couldn’t. It was a gag.

  She’d known there had been a high possibility that Cronin was setting her up, but she’d also known the druid inside of her was powerful enough to withstand an attack, and give a good counterattack of her own. She’d been determined to give it a chance if it meant the possibility of saving her family. She’d entered the VIP room and surveyed it, finding Maximilian Cronin standing directly in the center, a cane supporting his weight. She’d taken a few cautious steps forward, ears and nose alert for movement, when she felt a slight prick at her neck. She’d spun around, had seen the syringe the tracker was holding, and had promptly blasted him, and anyone else she could find. She’d tired quickly, but she’d made it into the hallway and was running for the stairs when they caught
her again. Rafael had appeared, and in that moment, she realized Rafael had set her up. It had been too convenient, him riding out on his bike just when she needed a ride to the airport. Conall had warned her about him, but she hadn’t listened. Stupid. She’d wished for enough strength to blast and kill him before the drug knocked her out. Wishes were futile because his was the last face she remembered seeing before she awoke in this place.

  She tried to call her druid, and found her silent. There were no chants, no whispers. It was as if the darkness inside her never was.

  Panicked, she tried her mental connection with Conall. She couldn’t reach him. Vivienne put up another futile struggle against the gold bonds securing her before giving up. Instead she settled for looking around. The room was dark, pitch-black, but she could hear the wind howling, which meant she was in a room above the ground. She continued to listen, and heard what sounded like voices, faint, just below her window. Focusing on the voices, she listened carefully, and was glad to find that her heightened senses were still working, if barely.

  “So, we’re just patrolling tonight? That’s it?” This voice belonged to a male, and from the lackluster excitement, Vivienne dismissed him as young, possibly in his twenties.

  “Yes. I’ve told you that ten times already,” a female replied in a clipped, hushed tone. She had a polished accent, but Vivienne couldn’t pinpoint it.

  “Why? It’s not like she can escape the chains before tomorrow. They’re made just for her kind.”

  Vivienne looked down at the bonds. Well, that would explain why she couldn’t break out of them.

  “Well, we’re here to make sure that if she does, she doesn’t get very far. Correct?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”