Moon Coven: a Paranormal Witch Romance

by Conner Kressley

  She grabbed the urn and pulled it close to her.

  She knew she was playing now. And she wasn’t about to lose.

  Chapter 24

  It happened over and over again. Jumping, failing, crashing, the excruciating, shattering pain. It crushed everything in him.

  Time was lost. For all he knew, Julia had been gone for days now, maybe weeks or months.

  She had walked away with The Crawley, despite his warnings not to go.

  Worry settled across his shoulders, weighing him down in a way unlike the rest of this hellish place was capable of. Somehow, worry about Julia was stronger, rawer, and more real than any of the hardships he was forced to endure here.

  It hurt more; it lingered in a way the physical pain never did.

  Though he was sure she hadn’t meant to, Julia coming here had made things worse. It reminded him of what he had to lose…and that he had already lost it.

  His teeth ground together as everything reset again.

  He was back at the top of that damned building, his body put back together after being smashed in the pavement below for what felt like the millionth time. Would this never end?

  Julia flitted through his mind again—that same memory of her standing next to that old woman and falling for her shit.

  She went to try and save him, but that old bitch was the reason he was there in the first place. Taking her up on her offer sent Roman down a path that led him to where he stood now, to where he would soon fall.

  Maybe Julia would end up in her own private purgatory after this. Maybe, in trying to be his salvation, she would be her own downfall.

  Maybe she already had and was suffering in much the same way Roman was at this very moment.

  Roman braced himself, because he knew the fall was coming. It had been long enough, and soon, he would tumble through the air and finish with that awful crash.

  “Fifty years,” he told himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Just fifty god damn years.”

  How crazy could someone go in fifty years? Maybe he would lose himself to some blissful mental break. Maybe he would go completely insane and come to as some old man, drooling all over himself in a mental institution somewhere.

  That would be lucky indeed.

  He braced himself again, but something was different.

  He hadn’t fallen. He was still on the roof. Why hadn’t he been forced to jump yet? What fresh hell was he about to be subjected to next?

  Roman opened his eyes.

  He wasn’t on the roof anymore. The night sky didn’t sit above him, mocking him with the constellations he and Julia used to look at during the best nights of his life.

  Instead, he was in a cave. The air was warm, but he felt out of place, as if he didn’t belong. As if there was something trying to push him out.

  He blinked hard, confused but relieved. Though he had no idea where he was, Roman didn’t really care. After all, wherever it was, it had to be better than that damn roof, that damn agony.

  Something swirled above him, and a darkness began to spread in his system. He could feel it, whatever this was. Wherever this was.

  He blinked again, and he was in another room—a lighter place with glowing ceilings and noise threatening to blow out his eardrums.

  He wasn’t welcome here; that’s what the noise was telling him. He had to leave. He couldn’t stay, and he shouldn’t have come in the first place.

  But that didn’t matter to Roman, because there in front of him, with her arms wrapped around something, stood Julia.

  She looked the same. Thank God, not that much time had passed. He hadn’t missed her life. He hadn’t missed his own.

  She looked tired, though, and more than a little worn. Her face was pale and wet with sweat. Her eyes were terrified and directed away from Roman—to someplace beyond him.

  He tried to turn, to see whatever it was that was causing her such distress, but he couldn’t. Whatever had brought him here was keeping him pinned on her.

  Julia swallowed hard. “I…I should have known it would be you,” she said, her teeth grinding together. “It won’t matter. It’s too late now!”

  Roman looked closer and, when she saw what it was that was cradled in Julia’s arms, he shuddered.

  It was that thing—the urn that the Crawley had sent him after back in the boat. The Crawley was still after it, and despite his efforts to stop Julia, she was now involved.

  A bright green glow started to radiate from the urn. It burned; he could feel Julia’s pain, feel her agony. It was his own. It was worse than his own, because it hurt her, too.

  She tried to throw it away, but the urn refused to move. It had caught her now, and it wasn’t letting go. Her body trembled, then quaked, her entire body smoking under the horrible glow of the urn.

  Roman stumbled forward, then fell to his knees, the pain about to burst out of his chest as he watched her die—as he watched the only thing that mattered in his entire life melt away like a lit candle.

  She fell to the ground. Her glassy eyes landed, unblinking, on Roman. The world around him shimmered and flickered.

  Realization rushed in like a blast of arctic air. He had heard tell of it during his studies. The dark magic was strong and tied to gypsy lore.

  Sometimes, though it had been lost to the ages, practitioners of dark magic could catch glimpses of the future, same as the gypsies. Premonitions, they were called. And, to hear of them, the person experiencing the phenomenon could feel everything that went on during one—could feel the hurt, the air, the stone, time itself.

  And that was what Roman had just experienced. Julia’s death hadn’t happened yet—but it would if he didn’t do something to change the trajectory of their timeline.

  He had to save her.

  But, in order to do that, he had to wake the fuck up.

  Roman screamed, and with that scream, was returned to the rooftop.

  Again, he stood atop the building, waiting to jump.

  But Roman was done waiting. He wouldn’t just let things happen to him anymore. Roman was going to take this into his own hands.

  He set his jaw and jumped off the building, literally diving toward the pavement like an Olympian rushing toward a pool. Fear played no part in this as he neared the ground below and the splat that he would no doubt become if he was wrong about this.

  With eyes open and trained on the ground, Roman watched the earth drop away. Instead of hitting the city street, Roman dove into nothingness.

  A bright white light appeared at the edge of that nothingness, and Roman pushed toward it with the fury of a gladiator. He knew what he needed to do, and nothing short of the forces of Heaven would be able to keep him from his charge.

  He dipped into the white light and, with a jolt, Roman woke up.

  A woman’s voice sounded from right beside his ear. “Ahh!”

  Roman looked over, his neck stiff and his head swimming and foggy. April sat beside him, a cool washcloth in her hand. Her eyes were wide and her lips trembled.

  “You…you’re awake,” she said, staring at him. “You’re not supposed to be awake. Father tried everything. He’s got people coming from the four corners trying to wake you up. They all told him it was impossible.”

  Roman threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. “People have been saying that about me for years,” he mumbled. “You think they would know better by now.”

  His legs wobbled, and his tired knees threatened to buckle beneath him, but he managed to stay standing. He might not feel up to moving right yet, but he didn’t have a choice. She needed him…right now. And he would rather be dead than fail her again.

  His loyalty was clear now—clearer than it had ever been. It wasn’t to his family or himself. It wasn’t even for his sister, though he loved her almost more than anyone in the world.

  Anyone but Julia. That was who his loyalty belonged to. She was his everything, and no one was taking her away from him ever again.

  April g
rabbed him by the shoulders. “You need to lie down,” she said, starting to guide him back toward the bed. “I’ll get Father and the medics. They won’t know what to make of you.”

  He shook away from her. “I’m fine. I have to go.”

  April’s eyes went from wide to narrow. “Roman, what the hell is going on?”

  “You can’t,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. “You can’t get Father or the medics. You can’t get anyone. You can’t tell anyone I’m awake. They’d want me to stay. They’d want me to rest or to evaluate the way I broke the spell or something else that won’t help me right now.”

  April tilted her head, her eyebrows pulling together. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “She’s in trouble, April,” he said. “I can’t explain how I know, but Julia’s going to die if I don’t get to her right now. And I know she’s a Fairweather and our stars don’t match up—”

  “Fuck the stars,” April said. “Go.”

  Roman blanched. He had never heard his little sister use that language before. “Did you just say—”

  “Fuck. The. Stars,” she repeated. Her eyes bore into his. “That’s your girl right there. Do what you need to do. I’ll cover for you. Go get your girl, Big Brother. Do what makes you happy.”

  A smile spread across Roman’s face. He hadn’t thought about that in so long—about being happy.

  He gave his little sister a nod, and then darted out the back way to get to Julia.

  Please don’t let me be too late.

  Chapter 25

  The urn in Julia’s hands radiated a sickening energy. She was still in the cave, still in this place that was so near and dear to her ancestors. And now she knew the truth of why the artifact was so important to the old woman. Not because she wanted to steal the power that it provided, but because she was the power that it provided.

  The Crawley’s ashes were in the urn, which was presently wrapped in Julia’s arms and pressed against her chest. And the fact that Cassandra would use such a thing—something so sacred and personal—to garner more power was a testament to just how wrong about her Julia had always been.

  She was a loon—a power hungry mad woman who would stop at nothing to get the control she wanted.

  It broke Julia’s heart and made her feel as foolish as she ever had before. Cassandra had always been this way. The urn showed her as much. It gave her a glimpse of the truth and let her see just how long this festering jealousy had been going on.

  And that was the worst part. The woman had felt this way since they were children, since the first time Julia bested her at something. She had always been so insecure and Julia, for her part, had always been so naïve about it.

  Maybe if she hadn’t been so useless. Maybe if she would have opened her eyes and not been so blind about what was going on all around her, she might have been able to stop some of this. But she hadn’t. She had been so wrapped up in Roman, so consumed by anger at what she thought she could never have, that she let the locally born snake freely slither around her backyard.

  And now the snake had taken over, and she didn’t know if she would actually be able to put a stop to that.

  A pinch started at her chest, right above where the urn sat. It was slow to build, just a minor inconvenience at first, but it built rapidly. It dug its way into her, began to siphon her magic, draining her and funneling every spark of who she was into the urn.

  Her body trembled. Weakened.

  What was happening? What sort of tricky magic was this? She took a deep breath, trying to push the urn away from herself.

  It wouldn’t go anywhere.

  It was stuck there, stalwart as it attempted to suck Julia dry of every drop of physical and magical energy she had, of everything the ancestors had taught and given to her.

  She blinked hard, unsure of what to do, unsure how to stop the dribble of pain that had now turned into a full blown tidal wave.

  Her breaths came short and shallow and then, in front of her appeared The Crawley.

  The old woman rocked back and forth in her chair, looking at Julia with disdain written plainly on her face.

  “What?” Julia gasped. “What’s happening?”

  “The only thing that could have happened,” the old woman said.

  But, as she spoke, her voice morphed. It changed, grew strong, grew younger, grew more familiar. And then, her body began to shift as well. Instead of the old woman, she became something else. Her wrinkled skin tightened, her gray hair gained bounce and color, and her blank, vacant eyes filled in with pupils that Julia recognized immediately.

  The Crawley was not the Crawley, and she never had been.

  She was no gypsy. She was a witch.

  Cassandra sat in front of Julia now, with a smile that would make the devil shiver.

  “I’m beating you,” Cassandra said, standing to meet her cousin. “That’s what’s happening, you pathetic excuse for a witch.”

  “You?” Julia asked, confused and in pain. “How is that possible?”

  “That’s a good question,” Cassandra said, sneering at Julia. “I guess we could begin with your complete and utter inaptitude.” She rolled her eyes. “When you think about it, that’s the only reason any of this could have ever come to pass.”

  “You need to stop this,” Julia growled, still burning, still in pain.

  “Oh, I can’t do that,” Cassandra said, grinning even wider somehow. “Well, I mean, technically I could, but if I let you go, then you wouldn’t realize how goddamn responsible for all of this you actually are.”

  She strolled toward Julia, pursing her lips smugly. Looking Julia up and down, she laughed. “You know, this is even better than I hoped. I’d only been trying to steal Roman’s magic. But he screwed that up, and now look! I get yours instead.”

  The urn pulsated in Julia’s hands, burning right through her, its energy pulling at her own, siphoning her magic and channeling it into the vessel.

  “You know,” Cassandra said, pausing as she neared her cousin as if the urn might somehow pull her in as well, “all of this could have been avoided, if only you’d have been half the witch I am.” She turned and paced the other way. “Or if our idiot grandfather would have known enough to see through the fog of your charms.”

  “He was going to do it, Cass,” Julia said, trying like hell to pull away from the magic that was rushing through her and hollowing her out from the inside. “Grandfather was going to give it all to you.”

  “A hollow gesture, and one he’d never go through with.” She slammed her palm against the wall and the entire place shook. “He would never have actually passed you over, not with the ancestors whispering in your ears like you’re something special.” She snorted bitterly. “But you’re not, are you?” she asked, turning back to Julia. “You’re a whore who can’t keep her goddamn legs closed to our enemies.”

  She slammed the wall again, and the wall shook even harder. “What sort of leader would you make, sucking a Blackwood cock while you give them all of our secrets? Was I supposed to just sit back and let that happen? Was I expected to let you ruin the coven my family helped build?” She shook her head and pointed her finger at Julia. “Fuck no! And if Grandfather can’t see that he’s made a mistake, then I’ll kill his decrepit ass, too. Then they’ll all be gone. And I’ll lead everything.”

  “Everything?” Julia asked, trying not to burst into tears as the urn weakened her past the point of integrity.

  “That’s what the urn is for, Juju. Your stupid little fiancé thinks we’re in this together. And we will be, right up until I can usurp him. And once I funnel your magic into his urn and restore the Crawley to life, she’ll work for me, too. I’ll have the Louisiana Coven, the Moon Coven, and the Romani. With that, I’ll crush the Blackwoods and take their dark magics for myself. I’ll be the most powerful being in the world, Julia. And it’ll all be because of you.”

  “I-I wouldn’t…” But she couldn’t even finish her sentence. The urn ha
d stolen too much, made her too weak to speak.

  “Well, that’s the thing Juju. I really don’t give a free flying fuck what you would or wouldn’t do. If you wouldn’t have had your head so far up Roman Blackwood’s ass all these years, maybe you’d have seen this coming. Maybe you could have even stopped it.” She nodded at her cousin. “But you didn’t. Like some moron from a romance novel, you were blinded by love. You thought it was the most important thing. Which is exactly why you’re not fit to lead our coven. Wanna know what is the most important thing in the world, Juju? The thing you overlooked? Power. You had it, you wasted it, and once I’ve stripped you clean of everything inside that troublesome little body of yours, I’ll put it to good use.”

  She settled in front of Julia, grinning like a hyena. “And the best part is, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  Chapter 26

  Ever since he woke, Roman had been feeling her. Her pain. Her fear. Her guilt and her self-loathing. But, more important than that, he felt her location.

  She was out in these woods somewhere. He knew it. The pull of her was getting stronger and stronger—but so was her pain. It had already started. The thing that Roman had the premonition about, the thing that would soon kill Julia, was already in play.

  He had to move faster. He had to act smarter. He needed to find her before it was too late. If he didn’t—if she died—then all of this would have been for nothing. His life would have been for nothing. And the idea of continuing to live it with her gone—really, really gone—seemed as worthless a thing as he could ever consider.

  Roman kept running. Though his lungs burned and his body begged for relief, he ran on. He refused to stop. He refused to even give an inch. He was getting closer, but her essence was fading faster than her presence was growing closer.

  He felt her pulsating through him. Her taste, her scent, the way she moved—it was real to him now. She was close, and he would find her.