Dark Moon: Fae/witch paranormal romance (Hells Gate Book 1)

by Terina Adams

  Selene stood chewing on her bottom lip, watching the two disappear into Jet's car.

  “Don’t worry. They’re not completely crazy.”

  Selene smiled across the roof of the car to Dami. “No, they’re not, but they are impulsive.”

  5

  Aspen broke off her conversation, turned her back, and started swapping the bottle places on the ledge behind. Locke glanced over his shoulder as Wyman approached the bar.

  “That’s a poorly disguised snub. You better try harder than that if you want me to change my mind.”

  She spun, her face alight. It was a cruel trick from the King, but he wasn't known for tolerating dissension.

  “Would you?”

  “No. Now get me a drink.”

  Aspen wrenched the refrigerator door open for a beer, slammed it down, exited from behind the bar and disappeared down the corridor to the main hub of Hells Gate.

  Wyman ignored the theatrics and sat on the stool in front. “If a little competition draws you aside then the relationship’s not worth holding on to.”

  “I’m not the one throwing things.”

  Wyman eyed his son before taking a long draw from his beer. He’d never been in favor of their connection, letting his opinion be known whenever it suited him. If Locke was truthful, he sided with the King. With too many women flowing into the club on a daily basis the idea of settling with one made as much sense as shooting yourself in the head. Both ended the fun.

  Women placed demands most men were unable to face. If Slade stopped fooling himself, he too would see how Aspen had tamed him. Her eyes became telescopic lenses whenever he left her side, and arrows if he dared look at another woman. He never gave her reason to question his faithfulness. In fact, in one mad, unbelievable night, Slade had confessed he desired no other since hooking up with Aspen. Nonetheless, she sunk her hooks in. His scars would be permanent.

  “Your relationship is not why I’m bothering with your company.”

  “Perhaps it’s because you’re tired of your own.”

  Wyman grunted at Holt’s remark and took another drink. Those closest to Wyman were given some leeway.

  “I've got confirmation on the arrival of the shipment. Three days time. The ship docks around twenty-three hundred. They’ll start unloading an hour or so after that. I’d say we’re looking at the rest of the night to finish. Our man will ensure the sea container ends up on the right truck. All we have to do is bring it home.”

  “And Manx’s men?” Slade was always the one to want details.

  “Will be there. Of course they aim to load it onto their truck. Tray’s already dealt with the necessary people in order to make sure that’s not going to happen. You lot will keep Manx’s men busy, while our man drives away with the China white.”

  Wyman took another swig of his beer. “Best to stagger your arrival. We can expect resistance, but I’m sure you boys can keep it low key. We don’t need a police party or media circus.”

  He turned and looked down the bar at his men. His eyes shifting first to Slade’s, before moving down the line. He glanced back to Slade. “You’re not coming.”

  “What?”

  Tray put his hand on Slade’s shoulder. “You’re the babysitter”

  Slade turned to his father. “No, give Aspen the job.”

  “She’s a viper at the moment. She might fry the girl’s brain. As I said, I don’t want this to turn into a police party. We’ve got enough without you.”

  Slade’s jaw tightened, but he held his tongue.

  “You’ll keep the girl locked away when we arrive. I don’t want to worry about her while we’re focused on securing the load.”

  “Just what am I supposed to do with her for the next year?”

  “You’re a smart guy. You’ll figure it out.”

  Slade turned back to face the bar, his knuckles white as his hand gripped the neck of his bottle.

  Locke couldn’t blame him for his frustration. He wouldn’t want to be saddled with the woman. Sure, she was cute, with a tight ass and great tits, but after a couple nights fun, he’d find her constant presence irritating. Still Slade was the committed one with enough experience waking up next to the same woman everyday for months on end. If any of them could handle the monotony of looking after this girl, it was Slade.

  “The rest of you, I want you at the dock between eleven and midnight. You can sort it amongst yourselves who arrives when.”

  He slid off his stool and pointed a finger at them all, “nothing distracts you that night,” then headed back to his den with his beer in his hand.

  They remained in silence for a few moments longer, each using the vacancy to take another drink.

  Tray got up. “Pool.”

  With nothing better to do, Locke followed him over to the pool table. Slade was best left to simmer.

  6

  Small tufts of clouds moved across the moonless night like shadows scouring the skies. Selene gave herself a few minutes longer, savoring the quiet before going inside and shutting out the cool of the night. Despite Jet's shrewd look as she left, none of the girls commented on Selene’s early departure from their drumming circle.

  Selene stood in the center of her lounge trying to decide her best move. Her home was the most obvious place to cast the circle, but with her nose for trouble, Jet was likely to turn up and spoil everything. However, the idea of driving to the out skirts of town for seclusion at this time of night was worse than being caught, giving her actions the air of a forbidden act. Being the senior of their coven, none of the others could dictate her decisions, and she was doing as the elders instructed. They must find the kidnapped woman before Samhain and there was no other way Selene could think to trick the Fae, since the Fae were masters of that game.

  Selene paced her lounge room rug a couple of times. Casting the circle and calling upon the God was the easy part. What came next filled her with dread. Either Jet or Nyx would likely elbow her out the way and do it themselves. Dami would caution against hasty actions, believing a direct confrontation was best avoided. The responsibility fell to Selene to be decisive. She would never ask for her sisters' involvement, the risk was too great. Although each was more than capable of defending themselves, Selene could never shrug her self-imposed role as protector.

  She’d made it clear today none were to act without the coven discussing it first, yet here she was going it alone. Yes, she was High Priestess, with the authority to do what she wanted, but casting this circle alone meant she was sneaking behind her coven's back. The guilt nagged at her incessantly.

  Selene stopped her pacing and glanced out the window. The blackness glared back. Tonight was the perfect night to initiate her plan since her powers were aligned with the ever-changing moon cycle. If they succeeded, the Fae would set the world on a path of chaos, so to maintain the balance, Selene chose to ally with the powers of the dark moon and call upon the one God who resided over death.

  It was time. She dare not risk delaying her plan, for the others would finish their meditation soon and come calling, demanding to know why she left so early.

  After casting the circle, she closed her eyes and focused inward, harnessing her intentions, and began to call the Lord of Death forth. Her rhythmic chant vibrated her lips, resonating throughout, right down to her toes. Her body ignited with the desire to connect with the charge of energy now rippling through her lounge room. Utilizing this energy she furthered her focus, delving deep into the darkness of the moon—where the secret spirits of a long feared realm reigned.

  Selene feared not to reach such places for her essence dwelled with the moon. She could harness the energy of the white moon as much as she could work with the dark. Given whom she would fight against, it was the powers of the dark she would call upon tonight. Although the Fae lived in this realm, their true nature resided in the underworld. Nothing but the King of the underworld could give her the power to match them.

  A gentle breeze brushed across her lips. The
fine hairs on her body rose and a tingle radiated from her stomach—anticipation, excitement perhaps. She thrilled at the touch of the moon's power, for only she could come close to being at one with the elementals residing in the moon’s influence.

  Soon the gentle breeze vanished as if vacuumed from the air. A heaviness settled over her heart. It threatened to drag her down underground where it resided. She funneled her focus, reaching for the moon to be rid of its hold. Her mouth felt full and her breath came in gasps as if something lodged in her throat. As death approached, it threatened to smother her life. She coughed in spasms, struggling to renew her connection with the power of the moon, fighting death’s grasp.

  She collapsed to the floor of her lounge room on her hands and knees, gasping for breaths as the suffocation subsided. A small dribble of spit dripped down to land on the back of her hand. She remained there, surviving, when the air around her stilled, and noise evaporated.

  She was no longer alone.

  Selene lifted herself up to kneeling. “Welcome, mighty Lord of Death.”

  “You summoned me, Witch.” Deep and piercing, few alive had heard his voice. Those that did rarely lived to remember its timbre. Hades never crossed the divide, and those foolish enough to attempt access to his realm before their time, never returned. He was wrathful and powerful, but above all, the keeper of the balance. She would find no other more intent on keeping the gates locked forever.

  “I know why you have brought me here, Witch. But you are arrogant in believing I would care for your petty games.”

  “But you sent us Cerberus.”

  “To warn you. Do not think I am willing to intervene anymore than I have.”

  “Please I beg of you, Lord Hades. You know the nature of the Fae. If we are to stand a chance, I need your help.”

  “My world is the dead. I grant no wishes to the living.”

  “But if you do not help me now, you will have no realm to reside over. It can only be Lucifer the Fae intend to set free. They have paid homage to him all this time. Now they seek to release him. With him, the underworld will empty. It is only your power that has kept Lucifer locked within your realm. But if true, and the Fae have found the key, none can stop them from coming through. You cannot want this to happen. Otherwise you would not have sent your guardian to warn us.”

  “What is it you want from me?”

  “My powers are strong, but the Fae are powerful, and I fear I am no match as I am. I wish for you to bless me with the dark strength to fulfill my task.”

  “You ask much, small witch. But you are of the moon. Your powers reside in the dark as well as the light, so I will grant you your desire. This gift is temporary, for as you know the balance must always be kept. See that you use it wisely.”

  Hades gifted her with the power she desired, coursing through her with such strength she fell backward, landing on her ass. Lucky she’d been kneeling.

  The air around her pulled at her hair and clothes as it spiraled through the vortex now created in the wake of Hades departure. It reached inside of her and dragged out the heavy ache of the dead, sucking it down the tunnel and back to where it belonged. Selene pushed herself forward onto her knees and watched as the Lord of Death returned into his realm of darkness.

  A few wisps of hair wafted along her neck, the only reminder of his appearance, that and the power now coursing through her veins. But she couldn’t remain wallowing on the floor. The hourglass had flipped and her time was running out. She must use Hades gift now or lose her chance, or her nerve.

  Time to face the Fae and throw some of their tricks back at them.

  7

  Selene found a free bay at the end of a long line of motorbikes, black and chrome as far as the eye could see. A couple of guys gathered around one at the front of the line, appreciating something beyond her comprehension, perhaps the twin exhausts, or the super charged engine, all engrossed in conversation none noticed her approach.

  She scanned each one looking for the right sort of marks that would signify the particular kind of man she sought, although she wasn’t quite sure what he would look like. The Fae were their nemesis, since time immemorial, but the witches kept their distance. No witch who set foot in Hells Gate lived, and any who faced them did not remain unscathed, which meant there were few descriptions she could use to single out her target.

  Perhaps a rough, tough dude would define them, but all five men in front met the criteria—denim, leathers, riding boots, a cigarette dangling between the lips, hard chiseled features, eyes that had done and seen a lot, perhaps soulless creatures. However, each had the air of mortality, which scrubbed them from her list. How the hell she knew that surprised Selene. There were no visual cues hinting at immortality or its opposite. What she sensed was so subtle she couldn’t define it, only now detecting its presence thanks to Hades gift.

  The essence of death surrounded them, leaking through their pores. She sensed the fragility of their life. Something easily lost in a blink carried the marker within its makeup.

  The night air ran down her shirt, chilling her inside, and she hugged herself for the warmth as much as for comfort. She dared enter their territory wearing clothes alien to her. Maybe not the shirt and jeans, but the vixen black leather boots and denim jacket borrowed from Jet's wardrobe were not her usual attire. In truth, however, it was the attitude she struggled to fit inside the outfit and not the clothes themselves that made her feel wrong. No matter. She’d made the choice. She was on their turf. Time to be the person she had to be.

  The woof whistle followed her past the heavyset guys in the huddle.

  “Hey, beautiful, no need to keep walkin’. It’s all here, baby. I’m everything you want.”

  “Fuck off, Tank, ya sleezy prick. Gorgeous, don’t listen to him. I’ll take care of ya. Share a bit of that sweet ass with me, and I’ll treat you right. At least for the night.”

  The comment earned him a round of laughs. Selene kept her pace. Feeding their remarks with attention of any sort would create a pit she wasn't planning on getting stuck in.

  She pushed open the metal door with some effort and entered the bar, breathing out her held breath, only to be assaulted by the thick atmosphere, alcohol, smoke of varying kinds, stale sweat and heavy perfume.

  A stage rose in the center of the concrete floor. An exotic woman glided along the catwalk in heels and shimmering fabric. Her ample breasts cupped snug in her red bra was all she wore on top. A gold chain dropped low around her waist, connecting to a belly button piercing. The fabric hung off her sensual curves and concealed only the very tops of her thighs. As she moved, a snake wrapped itself around her neck and down her arm.

  Selene remained mesmerized while the woman performed an erotic hip movement before peeling the snake from her neck and allowing it to entangle her leg. It spiraled slowly back up her body toward her shoulders, while she continued her rhythm.

  A man bumped Selene, breaking the spell, bringing her back to her surroundings. She glanced around unsure, momentarily loosing the guile she’d arrived with until she spied her prey.

  A hulk of a man sat on a stool near the end of the bar. Perfect location. Any woman could sit at the bar without it meaning she’d chosen that seat hoping for a pickup. If he’d been standing around a pool table or sitting at one of the wine barrels in the room she may have looked cheap and desperate sidling up alongside.

  She made her way over, not an easy feat in this heaving place, assessing her target. She read the essence of immortality as easily as she’d read the mortality on the men outside. His cropped, black hair hid nothing of his profile, exposing his dark olive skin and strong jawline. From this distance, he looked like the sort of man she would stay away from, unforgiving, uncompromising and rough. He entertained a blonde next to him, every so often pausing the conversation to take a drink from his beer. The woman looked enthralled, smiling mouth and smiling eyes, glued to his every word. No doubt she hoped to be his tonight. Sorry love, but I may be savin
g you a lot of heartache.

  Selene was not the vamp. Either Nyx or Jet could score themselves any one of the men in this room if they so chose. Selene would’ve been more comfortable asking the heavy questions in a cafe over coffee. What she did have, which would guarantee her success, was the ability to influence a person’s mind. Not total mind control, but a hint and nudge in the right direction. Normally it would not be enough to lure a Fae, but with the help of Hades' power, she would have the strength to sign this big guy’s warrant.

  Her mouth kept talking but he didn’t catch a word. She was gorgeous. Fleshy, big lips, big breasts, and the sort of legs you could keep wrapped around you all night. To Locke her voice dripped honey, and he was a bear intend on getting his fill. She allowed her closest knee to rub against his leg, unnecessary, as he was already planning his moves for later tonight with her. But it was welcome.

  Locke took another swig and in his periphery caught someone taking the seat on the other side of him. The smell meant woman and, because he was who he was, he turned to check her out. She looked straight ahead waiting for service, which gave him the flicker of time he wanted to study her profile. Not bad. Her nose was kind of cute, and her lips were rounded—kissing plump.

  The blonde, Belinda, or so he thought, drew his attention back, with a hand on his thigh, perhaps sensing his momentary distraction. Her smile arched wider without showing teeth. She too had suckable lips. He should lean in now and give them a try.

  He inched toward her but was knocked in the back, and if not for his bulk, making him hard to dislodge, he would’ve ended in Belinda’s lap, something she would’ve enjoyed. An instant spark of anger shot through him in seconds, and he swung readying his fist, forgetting who’d been at his side moments ago. The woman lay sprawled at his feet. On the other side of her overturned stool, two guys shoved each other, yelling threats. The larger of the two grabbed his opponent by the throat and readied a shaky fist.