Taken by Moonlight

by Violette Dubrinsky

  “You will never die,” he finally said, pushing back the dark hood of the cloak around his head. Maximilian did not know what he’d expected but he hadn’t expected a man who looked almost model-esque to be under there. He was deeply tanned, with raven-black hair, black brows, and even blacker eyes. White teeth gleamed out at him from the man’s smile. “But you will wish for it daily.”

  Deciding he’d had enough banter, Maximilian raised his hands and prepared to launch an attack. One moment the man was feet away, and then next, he was before him, a hand wrapped about one of his. He applied pressure, and Maximilian screamed, feeling a few of his bones give way. He fell to his knees before the figure in black, attempting again and then failing to put up any sort of fight.

  “This is where you belong from now. On your knees. Do you understand?”

  When he did not answer, the man caught him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Maximilian used his unbroken hand to try to pry the fingers away but they did not move. They only tightened.

  He felt as if at any moment he would pass out from lack of air. He nodded his submission.

  “You will call me Lord and Master.”

  “Yes…Lord…and…Master.”

  Released, he wheezed and struggled to put distance between them. When he was satisfied, he cradled his damaged hand in his lap.

  “Your hand will heal, Grand Wizard, as will the other injuries you sustain in my domain.” He grinned. “But that won’t make them any less painful.” The smile vanished. “You have been tried, judged, and found guilty of crimes against the goddess Artemis. For that, your punishment is an eternity of suffering in Tartarus, under the supervision of yours truly. Me.”

  He looked around the dark hovel in which Maximilian had woken, and clapped his hands together once. Two men appeared immediately, both seeming to walk from clouds of black smoke. One was dressed similarly to the man who’d broken his hand, in the hooded black robe, but the other, from his rumpled state of dress, bloodshot eyes, and the large scowl upon his face, looked as if he’d been sleeping.

  “What is your wish, Hades?” the cloaked one asked, and Maximilian’s fear was confirmed. He was in Hell, at the whim of the lord of the underworld himself. Nicolette had somehow brought him to Hell.

  “I have summoned both you, Erebos, and your son, Thanatos, to make you aware of a very special guest.”

  Maximilian’s jaw dropped as he stared at the two gods before him. Like all of the witches, he too had endured classes on ancient mythology. Erebos was Darkness, and Thanatos was Death. Both were members of the only family of gods to have sustained the transition from the Titans to Olympians. He in no way wanted to be their special guest.

  “For how long, Hades?” the one called Erebos asked calmly.

  “Eternity.”

  “Wait—wait! You have to allow me to argue my case.” He remembered that bit from the classes he’d taken centuries ago. He could not be punished without arguing his case, or having his case argued for him.

  Hades laughed and quirked an amused brow.

  “What was his crime?” Thanatos asked, ignoring him completely. He’d cloaked himself similarly to his father now, but had refrained from placing the hood atop his head.

  “Mass murder of the descendants of gods.”

  “No! Wait, you don’t understand.”

  “What punishment shall he be given?”

  “Twenty-three hours of torture.”

  Thanatos scoffed, but a sinister smile curved his lips. “What’s to prevent him from dying?”

  Hades returned the smile. “I left him with his immortality.”

  “Very well,” Erebos responded. His expression never changed. “Thanatos will take him first, and I will see him after.”

  “Make him wish for death,” Hades said softly, and then he disappeared. Erebos disappeared as well, leaving him alone with the evil-looking Thanatos. It wasn’t that he was scarred or in any way ugly, there was just something cruel lurking in those gray eyes.

  “Wait—there’s been a mistake. Please. I’m a grand wizard—I—”

  He was lifted and slammed against the wall. The god approached him slowly, and laid an almost gentle hand against his cheek.

  “They call me Death. I will be unable to give you the death you will soon seek, but you will not find my torture lacking. I promise you.”

  And then he was burning up. His eyes widened as the god stepped away, and Maximilian looked down. He was on fire. The flames were at his feet and climbing up his body. He could feel his flesh peeling away, could smell the acrid odor of singeing hairs, of frying skin. Maximilian tried to use his powers to put it out, but nothing happened. It was as if his powers were dormant again. He could feel them, but he couldn’t use them.

  “Stop! Oh God! Stop!” he cried. The flames only traveled to his hands. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. He screamed until he no longer had a voice, until he passed out from the pain of his wounds.

  ***

  When he awoke next, he felt like he’d been burned to death. Large blisters littered his body, and Maximilian wanted to scream from the pain of them, but his voice had long since given out. Thanatos stood over him.

  “We’ve only just begun,” the god said softly, and then he was somewhere else, with people clawing at him, biting at him. He was pulled this way, pushed that way, their nails and teeth puncturing at his already hurting flesh.

  “STOP!” he screamed, his voice grating and raw. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t, no! Please! Help me! Someone help me!”

  His screams were lost in the Underworld, caught up and overshadowed by those of others in similar, or worse, positions.

  ***

  Vivienne tore her eyes away from the jubilant scene ahead of her and scanned the ruins around Stonehenge. Most of the witches had vanished. The creatures who remained were mostly weres and the recently resurrected druids. Conall refused to leave her or change, so he sat stoically before her, looking every inch alpha werewolf as he warily watched the druids. Raoul and the rest of the pack had joined him only moments before, and they too mimicked their leader. She searched the faces of the others who remained and almost screamed to see the familiar face on the other side of the plain.

  Max! It was Max. He was blue once more, with that long, black hair, but she knew it was him.

  Pushing to her feet, she made to head in that direction. Conall came to his feet as well, his big wolf body rippling, and issued a low warning growl that both irritated and warmed her. He cared. She knew he did, but did he have to growl at her like that?

  Where are you going, Vivienne?

  Her irritation vanished at hearing his voice in her head. She’d missed it, the sweet caress of having him so intimately connected.

  I saw Max. She turned to look in the direction where she’d last seen her friend. He was still there, rapidly speaking to another man. A man who was like him.

  ***

  Conall looked in the direction she indicated. She was right. It was Max. He surveyed the path between Vivienne and her friend. The druids were still a few yards away, but the grass was littered with other weres from various packs. That didn’t particularly pacify him. Vivienne was still, for most purposes, unmated, and although his scent was still on her, it was drastically faded, something he intended to right as soon as possible. He sent a quick message to Raoul before addressing his mate.

  Follow me.

  Turning, he led the way to Max, baring his teeth at any animal who looked past him to Vivienne with anything more than a curious glance. Raoul did the same from behind her.

  ***

  Max was engrossed in conversation with Kyros. The older warlock tried to help him understand what had just happened. Although he felt as if he should know something about these druids, he couldn’t remember anything. He’d come here to kill his father, but had only succeeded in draining a vital portion of his soul before the druid had stopped him. She’d been powerful, more so than he, and it would h
ave been suicidal to fight her over the right to kill his father. Still, she’d promised Maximilian would suffer, and Max had seen the terror on his father’s face as he recognized the woman. He was satisfied that wherever it was Maximilian Cronin had gone, he would wish, instead, for death.

  “Max!”

  Hearing his name, he turned in the direction of the voice. A druid approached him and her face was familiar. He had known her before. She grinned and surged forward, but retreated when a big, black wolf with feral yellow eyes and gleaming teeth stepped into her path, blocking her body with his. Something clicked, but the pieces were still missing.

  The black wolf and the druid…Drew…the druid had a twin, didn’t she? Yes, the one who’d resurrected the banished druids.

  “Damn it, Conall,” she hissed under her breath, glaring down at the black wolf as she tried to maintain her balance.

  Conall. Yes, he knew that name as well.

  The wolf took a step closer to him, before taking a seat directly between him and the druid. He was protecting her.

  “Max! We’ve been so worried about you.”

  His eyes went back to the druid. She was beautiful, with smooth, brown skin and honey-colored eyes. There was also something in her expression that told him of the genuineness of the statement.

  “Why?”

  When her face fell and Conall’s eyes narrowed, Max amended easily, “Why have you missed me?”

  Vivienne’s brows raised but she answered, “Because you were captured by….” Her voice trailed off and Max knew she meant to say his father. “We didn’t know what to think. I’m just grateful you’re okay.” She smiled and then her eyes lit up. “Drew! She’s been so worried about you, Max. I know you probably don’t believe it, but she has. Drew is going to be thrilled to hear this.”

  His body grew cold instantly. Drew would never hear of any of this.

  “What’s your name?” he asked instead. Although she was familiar to him, he couldn’t find her name anywhere in his memory.

  “Max, it’s me, Vivienne.” Her voice had grown small, her eyes pitying. She clutched her hands together as she looked up at him, searching his eyes for answers. “What did they do to you?”

  “Enough,” he responded vaguely, sending a brief look to Kyros, who hung back.

  Her eyes misted and she said in low voice, “I’m sorry, Max.”

  So was he. Sorry for things she’d never know. Drew….

  He shoved the thought away. There had been a fair exchange. Her life, and he would never see her again.

  Vivienne seemed on the brink of saying something else when the wind, which had calmed to a mere breeze, picked up once more. “Hear me, brothers and sisters of immortality. We come in peace. To prove it, we would have words before we leave this place, so that all may know ours is a just and honest cause.”

  Max turned in the direction of loud and booming voice. The druids remained where they’d once been, but standing at the head of the group was a tall woman with her arms outstretched. The one who’d taken his father.

  A few growls went up from the wolves, but a select few began walking forward. Conall moved forward as well, another wolf taking his place between Max and Vivienne.

  Come, Max. She’s calling for a member from each of the species.

  Max stared at Kyros’s back in confusion. You’re already going.

  Yes, I will represent the warlocks. You can represent the witches.

  I won’t be a good representative. It was true. What did he know of any of the communities anymore? And was he still even a witch? By birth perhaps, but the part of him that was most dominant was his warlock.

  At least you’re still here. That in itself will speak volumes.

  ***

  When they stood before her, the representatives of each of their communities, Nicolette lifted her head and peered through the darkness to the creatures she knew lurked therein.

  “Will you insult us with your lack of presence, vampires?” she asked with a tilt of her head and a lift of her brow.

  There was a slight shifting in the air, and then about twenty vampires walked out of the darkness. She immediately recognized their leader. Verenus Riddelin. Unchanged by time in the way unique to immortals, he still looked the part of a handsome Frenchman, except his clothing and hair were more modern. He was perhaps older than she.

  As Verenus stepped forward, dipping his head at her and lifting a blond brow, she addressed them all. Her voice was soft, but it carried on the wind. “We are a small, but powerful race. We are also a peaceful race. We have no intention of waging war against any community. War has taken much from us already, and we work to rebuild. We would prefer to embrace you as allies, rather than enemies. You have nothing to fear from us, and we in turn hope we have nothing to fear from you. I, Nicolette Selene DeGaul of the House of Selene, do solemnly swear that the druids will launch no attack on any community unless it is in the defense of our own. This is my word, freely given.”

  “Is est nostrum vox, libere vexamen,” the druids called out after her. This is our word, freely upheld.

  ***

  After her speech, Nicolette, along with two male druids, moved to where Cassie sat with Alexander. Leaning down, she gently laid a hand against Cassie’s cheek, smiling as she did so. The men carefully lifted Alexander between them, and Cassie watched as they disappeared into the crowd of waiting druids.

  “Will you come with us, Cassandre?” Nicolette asked softly.

  Cassie blinked and focused on her. “Wha—where will you go?”

  “Everywhere. We must rebuild in the place safest for us to do so. In order to find that, we must search.”

  “And Alexander?”

  Nicolette’s smile faded and she drew her hand away. “Alexander is one of the most powerful of our people. If anyone could survive this twice, it would be him.”

  Cassie nodded, and pushed herself up. She brushed at her clothing, blinking rapidly at the red that stained her fingers.

  “When he awakes….” she began shakily, but Nicolette held up a hand and smiled.

  “He will come to you,” she assured her, looking over her should to the silent people who seemed to be waiting for her. “You won’t come with us?”

  She shook her head, looking around for her sister.

  “I understand,” Nicolette said slowly.

  As she turned, Cassie asked, “And my mother?”

  “She will be waiting for you when you arrive home.”

  “Thank you…Grandmother.”

  Nicolette looked over her shoulder with a little smirk. “Grandmother? Yes, I assume I will have to grow used to the term, although…it does make me seem old.”

  Cassie smiled. It was true. Nicolette didn’t look the part of a mother, much less a great-grandmother.

  “Nicolette, I—we—thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Cassandre.” She turned and began walking in the direction of the druids. Just as suddenly, she stopped and turned back to Cassie. Lifting a hand to her chest, she said, “If any of you ever have need of me, simply call.”

  Brows furrowing, Cassie blinked in confusion. Nicolette laughed.

  “Do not worry. I will come if there is need.”

  With that she turned and continued walking to her people. She disappeared in the midst of them, and moments later, they all vanished. The entire group—including Alexander—melted into the air.

  ***

  After the druids disappeared, the vampires followed suit, leaving only the weres behind. Soon, they too, began to disperse. Although Conall headed back to Astrid’s townhouse, it was only for a short moment. Now that Vivienne was safe, he was anxious to be home. His mate and her sister took quick showers there as he spoke with Eirik and Astrid, before heading to the airport. Santiago had decided stay a while longer, and while Conall found it strange, he’d never before tried to figure Santiago out, and had no intention of doing so now.

  Once they were aboard his jet and heading for New York on
a very early Wednesday morning, he found himself relaxing. It had taken Vivienne only minutes before she’d fallen into a deep sleep beside him. And it had taken him only seconds after that recognition before he scooped her up and deposited her in his lap. She’d awoken briefly, but with a little smile, she’d burrowed her head against his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist, and gone back to sleep. He requested a blanket from the flight attendant, who seemed on the verge of telling him something about Vivienne’s position in his arms before deciding against it. The attendant draped the fleecy fabric over Vivienne, while Conall pressed his seat backward until she was at a more comfortable position. That done, he looked around the plane, trying to take his mind off the fact that her breasts were pushing into his chest, and he hadn’t had her in days.

  Raoul and Cassie sat toward the front of the jet, their seats facing Conall and Vivienne’s. The rest of his pack were seats behind, and he could hear their voices above the roar of the engines as they spoke of the battle.

  Like her twin, Cassie was asleep. Her body was curled toward the window, and only her hair could be seen under the blanket that covered her. Raoul, however, was watching them with a smirk. When Conall lifted a brow, his beta chuckled and said, “I believe she’s tamed you.”

  Conall didn’t reply. He didn’t doubt the truth of the statement. Vivienne had gentled his beast, making him do things that months ago he would never have considered.

  “Did you speak with Sloan?” Conall asked softly, careful not to disturb Vivienne. He knew she was exhausted. It had weighed on him from the moment he’d regained access to her mind.

  “Yes. He knows we’re to arrive at six in the morning.”

  “Good.”

  Closing his eyes, Conall concentrated on the sound of his mate’s breathing. Raoul did not speak for long moments, so Conall was surprised when his beta said, “He says to tell you that preparation for the mating ceremony is continuing as planned.”