Vicious Moon

by Lee Roland

  The sound of an approaching vehicle—a heavy vehicle—came from outside. When I looked out the store’s front window, I saw a set of headlights aimed at the place. A truck, maybe a ten-wheeler, approached the store. This could not be good.

  Laudine’s face paled and her eyes widened.

  I disliked violence in general. I’d lived with and participated in too much of it. I hated the fear I saw in Laudine’s face, and that made contemplating a little carnage easier. There was also the matter of her helpless, but fortunately departed, customers. “You better go out the back and hide,” I told Laudine. “I’ll deal with this.” I’d certainly been attacked before, but I usually had backup. Laudine didn’t count, because she was so weak, she’d probably only interfere with whatever I needed to do. “Have you seen Herschel?”

  “No.” She quickly left out the back door.

  Herschel wasn’t exactly the best familiar. I hadn’t fought in a long time, and never like this. I always had comrades, fellow fighters. At least I could fight and use magic without worrying about accidently injuring my friends.

  The truck stopped. In an instant, high-beam headlights and spotlights illuminated the store like a cloudless noon. They needed light. I didn’t. I shot a thread of magic toward them, trying to skim the electrical wiring behind the lights. It worked. Sort of. The headlights and spotlights exploded, plunging everything into darkness.

  Damn. Often when I tried magic, it went wrong. Sometimes it was my lack of training, but sometimes I just felt incompetent. I had to go on, though. I used my attackers’ momentary confusion to step out back and run to the side of the building. I dropped to the ground. I didn’t think they could see me, but there was some light from a few streetlights and they did have flashlights. Ralph and Parker, the guys in black fatigues I’d bested earlier in the day, hadn’t had guns, nor did they have weapons at the Archangel. I could see the shapes of men milling around—and yes, these ones were armed. I counted eight, but there might have been more. They were not dressed in Etienne’s black fatigues, either. I saw the flash of a lighter and spied a bottle with its rag fuse being set ablaze. They planned to burn us out.

  One of them threw it at Laudine’s glass window.

  Amateurs. A single spike of sharp hard magic from me flipped it back and slammed it through the truck’s windshield.

  Oops! I’d meant to toss it in the Bog.

  It exploded in flame. Now there was plenty of light. A whole burning truck full. Which was bad because they had no way to leave—and they could clearly see me.

  One of them fired into Laudine’s store. A single shot and her fancy glass window burst and glass shards flew everywhere. I didn’t know if she was inside. I immediately threw up a shield. Several others drew and started firing—at least until the bullets bounced back at them. They only had handguns, no automatic rifles, but what came my way was deadly.

  Using magic to toss things around is easy. The fire, too. The shield I used to stop bullets was something else. I’d rarely tried it before. Unskilled and unpracticed in that area as I was, I’d inadvertently drawn too much earth magic power. It surged through my body like electricity, holding the shield, but drawing most of my physical strength like water down an open drain.

  Any witch can use magic, but there is always a physical price. The purpose of potions, spells, pentagrams, and training with an experienced witch is to reduce the corporeal drain on the body. Since I never learned the actual craft, I had to manipulate magic with my own personal strength and will. I made do with my small magic in the outside world, but when I entered the Barrows, a place steeped in earth magic and other mystical powers, I quickly realized the price was too high.

  The shield held, but it drove me down. Dirt and small rocks bit into my hands and knees as I tried to crawl away. I had to get farther from the battle. I’d never had the patience to learn my lessons on how to draw major magic slowly and safely, and I was paying now. Where the hell was Laudine? Even a little of her magic would help me. I’d been drained trying to save her damned store.

  I heard the shouts behind me, but they were suddenly silenced by a terrific howling from the Bog. The sound rolled and undulated like a pack of wolves, but was cut off by the grunt of a giant alligator. I’d heard nothing like it in my life. I had bigger problems, though.

  The beam of a flashlight found me lying on the ground, and I was suddenly surrounded by men and guns. One of them kicked me in the ribs. I rolled away, but another boot—steel-toed—caught me on the hip. The kick in the ribs was a warning tap, but the one on my hip sent brilliant pain searing through my body. They were just getting warmed up.

  The howl from the Bog came again, only closer.

  My attackers stopped paying attention to me. They stared around, wide-eyed, guns pointed everywhere. There was no specific focal point. They flashed the lights around, but the pitiful beams could not possibly illuminate much.

  Something black flashed over me. The thing was the size of an elephant—or it seemed that way. A man screamed. I could see nothing but four thick legs the size of trees and a bulk of black covering my body. Some unknown creature, some monstrous darkness, hovered over me, protected me. At the same time, it crushed me with the claustrophobic sensation of being trapped in a coffin. For one awful moment, my mind went blank with terror. Inches above me was this blinding mass, a living body of some creature beyond my comprehension.

  More screams came, shots fired, and all sound condensed into a roaring in my ears. Chunks of dirt shot up where bullets slammed into the ground beside me. None touched me. I lay upon the Mother’s body, the earth.

  Lying prone on the ground, listening to the sound of its magic, I desperately willed the power to rise, to come to me. It didn’t. I’d gone too far. My misjudgment would cost my life. The world faded. I would never find Marisol.

  Chapter 10

  Awareness came with a pure white light blasting through my eyelids. I slapped my hand over them and got dirt all over my face. I kept my eyes closed tight and flailed around only to encounter Herschel, who was apparently lying by my side.

  Herschel grunted, farted, and moved. Oh, damn. Using my arms to force my body into a sitting position, I brushed the dirt away. I sat where I’d fallen the night before.

  Laudine approached. She had a broom in her hand. “Your familiar wouldn’t let me touch you to bring you inside.” She spoke in a monotone and stared up the hill toward Duivel. “She even came from her throne up there.” She nodded toward Duivel. “She felt what you did last night. But even she didn’t challenge the dog. Why is that?”

  “Who came?” My body throbbed like an impacted wisdom tooth and my legs didn’t want to work right.

  “The High Witch Abigail, of course. I understand she is very angry.” Detached, seemingly uncaring of a stranger, she stared down at me. “You should come in, shower and dress. There are probably going to be consequences today.” She turned and walked away.

  What in the Earth Mother’s name was going on here? I’d grown up with a bunch of inbred witches and seen a lot of insanity in the world, but this reached the top of the pile. And what was the Earth Mother’s High Witch angry about? Laudine being attacked, or me defending her?

  I managed to rise with a minimum of moaning. I stared around me. The only sign of last night’s battle was a large patch of scorched and pitted asphalt and the missing store window. I knew the burned truck did not roll away under its own power.

  When I staggered inside, Laudine had most of the glass from the single bullet swept up. Other than the window itself, damage seemed minimal.

  I held on to the walls as I tottered to my room—Marisol’s room. Laudine said, “I’ll have some healing tea that will make you feel better after you clean up. You’ll probably need food, too.” She didn’t look at me. At least she didn’t complain that I’d let a single bullet through.

  My body ached as I limped into the room. Muscles twitched with little sparks of fire, and bones creaked like arthritis consumed t
hem. The only time I’d ever lost control since before Gran was there to help me. Since that single time, I’d stuck to my small magic. What I could do, I did very well. The other stuff like throwing up shields . . . shit, I’d screwed up.

  After I showered, I dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt. When I entered the kitchen, I found Etienne sitting at the table. He stared at me without expression. Had he forced his way in? No, he came and went from this place as he pleased. I knew she couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t, have stopped him. She’d raised no objection when he came in yesterday.

  I sat at the table across from him because I could no longer stand. Laudine set a cup of tea in front of me. It smelled of oranges and spice and I could feel the tiny healing potion surrounding it. I immediately picked up the cup with both hands so I wouldn’t drop it. I swallowed the lukewarm liquid. The potion slid through my veins and eased my hangover from indulging in too much magic last night—then the hunger began.

  Magic consumes a lot of physical and psychic energy. It depletes the body, but for me, it can be cured with rest and food. I didn’t have time to rest.

  Laudine presented me with another cup of healing tea, a knife, a whole loaf of unsliced bread, a couple of bananas, and a large chunk of cheese. Not exactly a gourmet lunch, but I didn’t care. I ignored everything while I acted like a ravenous pig. When I was finally full, I leaned back and nodded my thanks to my master chef. Then I turned my attention to the man across the table.

  Etienne wore a T-shirt, but this time he wore a leather vest over it that obviously covered his gun and shoulder holster. He hadn’t spoken during my meal, as if he knew what I’d done to need nourishment. I considered his attractiveness a curse. Those arms looked strong, and if he were to smile . . . ah, no. I had to stop thinking about him. Lean, tough, and he could take care of himself. I still didn’t like him.

  “Did you come to complain or apologize?” I asked.

  “Neither. I didn’t send the men who attacked you last night. I want to know what happened.” He leaned back and smiled, warm, friendly—and a complete lie. I could see it in his eyes.

  “You want to hear my side of the story. But you don’t like witches, so I’m sure you think it’s always the witch’s fault.” I glanced at Laudine. She looked away. I gave a casual shrug. “Men with guns came. I sent them away.”

  “Maybe they only meant to frighten you.”

  “Possibly. Maybe I did misunderstand. Maybe the firebomb was a peace offering. It did brighten things up.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that. Had he not known? Or had he thought I started the blaze? I wanted to ask Laudine what she saw before I answered any of his questions. She, in the meantime, was doing her usual stone statue impersonation.

  “Come outside. I want to show you something.” He stood.

  “Nyxx?” Laudine jerked as she became animated. She spoke with desperation in her voice. “You shouldn’t . . .”

  I stood. I held up a hand to stop her comments. She’d lost all credibility with me. “I’ll be okay. And we need to have a talk when I get back.” I wanted to know what she knew about the terrifying creature that loomed over me last night.

  I followed him out the door, pretending I didn’t hurt. Recovery was going to take more than herbal tea and food this time. Herschel was lying on the sidewalk. He growled deep and low in his throat as Etienne walked by. I smiled my approval at my familiar, but his enmity didn’t seem to bother the man. Etienne led me to the side of the building to the spot where I’d made my deplorable “bed” last night.

  “Look here.” He pointed at the dirt. I followed his lead. There, punched into the dirt, were the impressions of clawed feet. They were the size of platters. “What do you think that is? A grizzly bear doesn’t make prints that big.”

  “What am I? A Boy Scout with a tracking badge?”

  I didn’t know the prints, but unfortunately I’d seen them before. My swampy homeland had many creatures living in its depths, some I’d never seen. We’d relied on Penrod to patrol around where we lived and Herschel to warn us of impending danger. Prints like the ones Etienne pointed out had appeared occasionally on a path or trail I followed. As a child I was totally fearless. I’d followed the tracks, heedless of the consequences. By luck, or the Earth Mother’s blessing, I never found the creature that made them.

  Etienne simply stared with expressionless eyes, then asked, “Why are you here? This isn’t a social visit.”

  “I’m looking for my sister. Laudine seems to have lost her. Marisol. Little witch, about five-four.” I held out my hand, palm down at that approximate height. “Dark hair, brown eyes, really pretty when she smiles.” I saw no point in not telling him. Michael and Madeline knew her, and he obviously had some contact with them. His antagonism toward witches made it highly unlikely he would not have seen her or spoken to her. She would never have feared him—and Laudine said he had met her and she had defied him.

  Oddly enough, I could see a bit of curiosity form on his face. “Lost?”

  He didn’t deny he knew her.

  Another vehicle arrived in the cul-de-sac. This one a van. The man in black fatigues who stepped out was not like the others. He walked like a soldier, and I knew him. He was older, dark-skinned, with gray streaks in his hair. He had a powerful, stocky body and intelligent eyes set in a smooth face. His hands still had evidence of the arthritis that had plagued him for years.

  “Nicky!” he shouted with a laugh. “What in the hell are you doing in this garbage heap?” He rushed up, grabbed me, and lifted me off my feet and swung me around. I hugged him back. Darrow, once my boss and partner, and a good friend. Darrow appeared to be about forty, but I knew he was pushing fifty. He still looked good.

  I hadn’t seen him since I left Africa, looking for a different life. I loved him and I wasn’t really happy to see him here, associating with Etienne. I had few friends, few people I trusted, and I didn’t want Darrow as an enemy—or to put him in danger.

  I slapped him on the chest. “What do you mean garbage heap? It has running water, electricity, and grocery stores; what else could I ask for?”

  Darrow grimaced. “A lot.”

  I glanced at Etienne, who was seeing the potential to learn more about me than I wanted him to know. Darrow added to the uncomfortable situation. “Hey, boss,” he said to Etienne. “You need to hire her. She’s the best. Good to have at your back. And she can sneak in anywhere.”

  “Really.” Etienne looked even more interested.

  “Oh, yeah.” Darrow hugged me tighter. “Yeah, one time in Mali . . .” His voice trailed off. He acted like he’d said too much, spoken too casually. Darrow never did that. Darrow said exactly what he meant to say and his words were a warning to me.

  Etienne did what Darrow wanted him to do. He raised an eyebrow. “What happened in Mali?”

  I pulled away from Darrow. “A mistake. Nothing worth talking about.”

  “Right,” Darrow said. Still grinning, he handed Etienne a piece of paper. “Carpenter said you should see this.”

  Etienne accepted the paper without looking at it.

  Darrow turned back. “Listen, Nicky, there’s a bar two blocks east of River Street on Eighteenth Ave. called Larry’s Place. Me and the boys go there on Friday and Saturday if we’re off. Rocky and Salvatore are here, too. Come by if you can. Be like old times.”

  “I will.” I pulled out my cell phone and held it up so he could see the number. “Memorize that. Call me.”

  Darrow had been the leader of the troop of guards I worked with for six years before I returned to the States. Rough but intelligent men, I liked them all. I was just out of the army and surprised when Darrow hired me. As a woman, I had to prove myself. I used my army training and a little bit of magic to remain as gender neutral as possible. I proved that I was physically tough enough. But they instinctively knew something odd had occurred when I used a bit of magic to help us in our duties. I became their good-luck charm. Excellent things happened w
hen I was around—except when I created a disaster.

  Darrow hugged me again before he climbed back in the van and drove away. Etienne again asked, “What happened in Mali?”

  He annoyed me, but because of Darrow, I remained polite. “The usual. A convoy. We were guards. Mostly goods, arms, ammunition. But there were passengers and I was guarding a rich widow and her female servants. Bandits started a nasty firefight. We barely escaped. It wasn’t a stellar moment in our careers.”

  Actually, we’d screwed up badly. We’d jumped into a situation without enough information and had lost everything but our lives. It took a year to recover. I think Darrow had mentioned it as a warning. Not to take action until I knew all the facts.

  Etienne and I stood there in the warm summer air and I realized that, because of Darrow, we’d made a tenuous connection. I had made none with Laudine, even though we were considered sisters serving the Earth Mother. That connection did not mean I could trust him. Given Darrow’s working for him, he was probably the Etienne I’d heard about, the leader of mercenary soldiers, and I was . . . well, I had a certain reputation, too. He and I had walked in the world of war-torn countries, guards and thieves, and lots of guns. A world where often your only loyalty was to your comrades of the moment and the man who paid you. If Etienne paid Darrow, Darrow’s loyalty would be to him. If I were Etienne’s enemy . . . ? No, I would not put Darrow in that position. I’d find another way to get to Marisol.

  Etienne watched me with grave intensity. He’d know every pore of my skin before he was done. Somehow, he’d also physically moved closer than I usually allowed anyone to come. I hadn’t realized it was happening. I stepped back.

  Etienne smiled. It was as if he’d made a decision or believed he knew something I didn’t know. He nodded politely and walked toward his SUV.

  Chapter 11

  I went back inside to deal with Laudine. She sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of the inevitable tea, but she lifted a finger and pointed at a coffeepot and a cup on the counter. There was sugar and cream there, but I wanted mine pure, potent, and black.