Vicious Moon

by Lee Roland

“Where am I?” The words sounded odd.

  “Duivel General.” The nurse had a soothing voice. All nurses should have soothing voices. They should give them lessons in school.

  “What happened?” Okay, that was better. I could manage more words.

  “I don’t know. They brought you in with a head laceration, severe concussion, and hairline skull fracture.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ve had visitors. They don’t seem to know anything, either.”

  “Oh.”

  “Your grandmother Abby—and the police.”

  “Oh.” Nyx, the mistress of one-word answers. I needed to do better than that. I struggled. “I want to leave.”

  “Sorry. The police, a Captain Flynn, said no, not until he talked to you.” She straightened my covers. “I doubt you could escape anyway, at least for a few days.” She eyed me, drew a breath to speak, then shook her head.

  “What is it?”

  She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “The docs in the emergency room said you would die—or at least be a vegetable. But you’re not. They call it a miracle. What happened? My sister, in a car accident, not hurt as bad as you, died.”

  “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.” There was nothing I could tell her. My “grandmother” Abby was a healer and had probably helped me a little. She would not have completely healed me as long as she felt I’d be okay in the doctor’s hands. That would be too obvious. Etienne may have called her.

  The nurse left me and several hours later my next visitor was Captain Flynn of the Duivel Police Department. He, too, wanted to know what happened. I told him I couldn’t remember, which often happened with head trauma victims.

  “I suppose you can’t remember anything about Etienne Durand, either.” He smiled when he asked.

  “No.”

  He laid my wallet on the stand by the bed. “The incident at the traffic stop has pretty much been forgotten at the station. I only knew about you being here because Abby called.” He gave me a wry smile. “That forgetfulness happens rather often in Duivel. Especially when it involves incidents or people connected to the Barrows. I brought you your wallet. No one will miss it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And there is a hysterical young woman in San Francisco you should call as soon as possible. I tried to reassure her you’re okay, but she needs to hear that from you.” He sat on a chair that had been placed close to the bed.

  I had to ask him. “How come you know about . . . things? Abigail, the Barrows.”

  He grinned. “I’m one of the blessed, it appears. Once upon a time my wife was called the Earth Mother’s Huntress. She was that when I met her. She introduced me to the Barrows. She calls us chess pieces. Abby is the queen—”

  “And the rest of us are pawns.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I like to think of myself as a knight.”

  “I agree with that. Who’s the king?”

  “I’m not sure. I thought it might be . . .” He stopped. I figured he meant Aiakós.

  “I’ve met him,” I said. “He might want to be king, but I don’t think he’s there yet.” And he was so evil, decent people should not acknowledge him as such.

  “So, the power struggle continues.” Flynn nodded. He laid a business card beside the wallet he had returned. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks.” He seemed so personable, not like many cops I’d known. “Tell me, Flynn, is your wife a witch?”

  He glanced at the empty doorway again. “No, but we have twin daughters with red hair who do some pretty strange things at times.”

  “Oh, boy. The Mother help you on that one.”

  “I’m counting more on Abby.”

  I had no other visitors. Etienne, of course, did not come. He couldn’t take the chance again. They released me the next morning, but I’d lost three days of search time. I’d given them my Single-Eye insurance card from my returned wallet and they reminded me I’d be responsible for what the insurance didn’t pay. Since I had my wallet with money and cards, I figured I’d get a taxi. My former guard buddy Rocky, dressed in civilian clothes, met me as I was discharged. He helped me climb in a nondescript gray sedan and, of course, headed straight for the Barrows.

  Chapter 21

  The first thing I wanted when I returned to the compound was to find the case that Chalice the water dragon had so imprudently used to break my skull. I’m sure Chalice didn’t mean to damage me any more than Etienne meant to hurt my hand, but I’d endured a lot of pain and shock in that single day, hand and head. When I thought back to my first night here, I’d bet that Chalice had also been the massive body hovering over me, protecting me from the assault. I’d have to thank her for that.

  Etienne greeted me in front of his office. Feet planted, arms crossed, he stared at me. He shook his head. “You really fucked up that time.” But his eyes were filled with sympathy.

  “Thank you.” He looked very desirable just then. Dark eyes, sensual mouth, I forced myself not to flinch when he laid a gentle hand on the side of my face. You’d think he was actually worried about me.

  Rocky cleared his throat. He looked curious, as if Etienne’s action, his seemingly concerned touch, surprised him. Then he frowned.

  I’d known Rocky as long as I’d known Darrow and he’d been witness to a few disastrous love affairs. That really handsome warlord in Asia was quite entertaining until he wanted to make me his third wife. But the team stuck together and they spirited me out of the man’s clutches before I had to create a problem using magic.

  Was Rocky trying to warn me? Of what? I nodded to acknowledge his concern. We’d been close working companions, friends. We stuck together and it worked. It was definitely not the same here. This place had an undercurrent of magic that existed nowhere else in the world. My sudden brain activity hurt and I laid a hand over my bandage.

  Etienne moved in close, holding me steady. “I’m told you had thirty-five stitches in your head,” he hissed through his teeth.

  “And a cracked skull.” I kept said head very still. “They took the stitches out, though. I’m taped together now.” I reached out and grabbed Rocky by the arm. “I know you haven’t seen much action here, Rock, but I think you know this place isn’t normal. Not like Africa or Asia.”

  Rocky grinned and his solemn expression vanished. “Normal? What’s normal? Remember that time that monstrous herd of cows surrounded the bastards chasing us. That wasn’t normal.”

  “Okay. I’ll admit I had a talk with them. The cows, not the bastards.”

  Rocky nodded genially and walked away. Ah, I understood. Rocky was warning Etienne, not me. Warning him that I was not exactly a kitten he could play with. I’d bet Etienne already knew that.

  Etienne remained close as I climbed the stairs. He didn’t touch me.

  “So,” I said as I carefully lowered myself on the couch in his living room, “what happened? Out by the Bog, I mean. What did you see?”

  He removed his shoulder holster and gun, and placed it on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. “I have no idea what I saw. That damned giant snake . . .” He blew out a breath. “I’ve seen some strange things since I came here. That was the strangest. It must have come out of the Zombie.”

  “It didn’t come from the Zombie. That giant snake was a water dragon. Her name is Chalice. I have one of them living by my house in the Georgia swamp. His name is Penrod. I’d thought he was the only one of his kind. They belong to the Earth Mother. To this world. I’ll admit Chalice’s delivery method sucked. She didn’t mean any harm. Not having hands limited her. What was it by the way? The thing she dropped on me. It felt like a truck.”

  “It looked like one of those waterproof aluminum camera cases. I didn’t have time to inspect it. The minute it—and you—dropped, Laudine closed in. I backed her up with the gun, but you were bleeding all over the place. It needed to stop. I had to put a compress on you.”


  Etienne’s face carried an uneasy expression. Chalice certainly shocked him with her sudden appearance. I didn’t think she frightened him. Despite her size, she lacked the impressively dangerous look and feel of Aiakós.

  He went to the kitchen, pulled a whiskey bottle out of the cabinet, and poured a good amount in brown into a glass. He chugged it and poured another, then brought it into the living room. He sat on the couch beside me, a good arm’s length away, before he spoke again. I wondered if this was something ordinary or if I had literally driven him to drink.

  “I figured you wanted that case, so I grabbed it, got it close so I could draw if she came at me. I used my shirt to make a compress for your head. Then the damned case was sliding across the asphalt toward Laudine, all by itself. I didn’t want to let go the compress.” He tossed down the rest of his drink. “Laudine almost had it in her hands when here comes that mutt of yours. Running like a fucking greyhound. He snatched the case before she got it and ran away.” Bitterness filled his voice. “I should have shot her. Tossed her body into the Bog.”

  I wanted to ask why he didn’t, but I figured I knew. While he might drive a witch out of the Barrows, he simply wouldn’t shoot one who posed no real threat. He had no idea what was in that case, no idea whether he’d be killing for treasure or trash.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. We’re playing the Earth Mother’s game. Laudine might have another critical part to play.”

  “Witches’ games.”

  “Yeah. That’s my life. I consider it a priceless learning experience.” I wanted to move away from his personal bias.

  He continued. “I called for an ambulance, then my men if the ambulance didn’t show. That happens sometimes in the Barrows. They forget about it before they get on the road. This one came quick, so was probably close by.”

  “That’s shitty. People live here, too, not just us criminals. They need that kind of service. Where’s Herschel—and the case?”

  “I have no idea.”

  At that point, Herschel ambled out of the bedroom. He carried the case in his mouth and dropped it on my foot.

  “Ow . . . Herschel!”

  Etienne stood and walked to the bedroom door. He stared inside.

  Oh, boy. Another Herschel disaster. “I’ll change the sheets, Etienne. I’ll buy new sheets,” I tried to console him.

  While Etienne spit out some innovative curse words in several languages, I cautiously rose and let Herschel out. I caught him by the scruff of the neck before he exited. “I know you are not always a great communicator, but we really need to talk. I’ll ask questions. You can bark once for yes and twice for no.” I released him and he unceremoniously lumbered down the stairs.

  “How does he get in and out when no one is here to open the door?” Etienne asked when he came back into the living room. He carried an armload of bedding, which he quickly tossed in a corner. “He wasn’t here when I left earlier.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always taken him for granted. He always stayed outside at Gran’s house. She didn’t like the drooling and gas thing.” Herschel always preferred to be out anyway. He’d probably come in and tossed and slobbered Etienne’s bed for spite. Or maybe he was bored.

  Etienne brought me paper towels from the kitchen to wipe the slime off the case. He sat beside me on the couch, much closer this time. Maybe he’d decided that, Yes, she’s a witch, but she’s so incompetent she’s no danger to me. He leaned back and his body relaxed. “If that bastard mutt can actually open and close locked doors on his own, why can’t he stop this shit?” He pointed at the pile of wet paper towels.

  “You got me.” I smiled. I had a strong suspicion that Herschel might have gone through the door. He wasn’t the average familiar. “Strange things have happened in my life. Even for a witch. Gran called it bizarre. Herschel showed up the day I was born and I’m told he was already grown when he arrived.”

  “Right, and that would make him . . .”

  “At least twenty-eight. He’s aged well, I think.”

  Etienne sighed.

  “What? You’re surprised by Herschel? You have playdates with a demon.”

  I put the case on the coffee table and examined it. It looked standard, but I’m sure Marisol would have placed more protection on it. I ran my fingers over the lock and whispered my name in magic. The lock snapped open. The world around me stopped moving. She had spelled the lock and I was caught. But the spell recognized me, and I heard Marisol’s voice in my mind. “Well, big sister, something momentous must be happening or you wouldn’t be opening this. I hope it isn’t too tragic. Isn’t Chalice lovely? I wanted her to go meet Penrod, but she said it wasn’t time. If you have difficulty reading my little book, remember the Summer of the Frogs.”

  I gasped as the spell released me. “The frogs?”

  “What frogs?” Etienne frowned.

  I clapped my hands. It was joyous to remember a wonderful time of innocence. “Oh, one year there was a massive hatching of frogs in the swamp. The Okefenokee. We grew up there. Some fluke of nature, I suppose. The sound was so horrendous we couldn’t sleep at night. Marisol and I found that with a little magic and her toy xylophone, we could manipulate the croaks to imitate some simple songs. She was six and I was nine.”

  “I take it you didn’t have television?”

  “Not until I was eleven. We finally harassed Gran until she broke down and got one.”

  I opened the case and there was Marisol’s Grimoire. I wondered if I would need a spell to open it, but the delicately etched leather cover moved easily when I lifted it out. I scanned the first page. It was a recipe for strawberry shortcake.

  I flipped through the other pages. Nothing but more recipes, some for food, some for potions, appeared. Of course, I knew there had to be more. Summer of the Frogs.

  I let my mind travel over that memory. Marisol on the porch with the xylophone, banging the colorful metal strips with her little knobbed sticks, me singing at the top of my lungs in a voice that made Herschel head for the woods, and . . . of course. The xylophone.

  “I have a problem,” I said.

  “I’m not surprised.” Etienne lifted his glass as if contemplating another drink.

  “I need a xylophone.”

  “Xylophone?”

  “Yeah, a small one. Like a kid’s toy.”

  “Maybe you should go lie down for a while.”

  “It’s okay. I have my driver’s license back. I’ll run get one. A discount store should have one.” I stood—too fast. The apartment lurched to the left and right and the floor dropped a few inches.

  Etienne caught me by the arms and held me steady. I wished he’d drawn me closer. But he couldn’t. The amulet might be under his shirt but it was still there. “You’re crazy. Be still. I’ll send someone for a damned xylophone.” He carefully lowered me back to the couch.

  Chapter 22

  Etienne left me there on the couch with a pillow and a blanket. It was only early afternoon, but I hadn’t slept much in the hospital. I carefully placed Marisol’s Grimoire under the couch cushion and immediately fell asleep. I did dream. Odd scenes of an undisciplined childhood came, then drifted away into the foggy swamp. I rode on Penrod’s head as he glided among the cypress trees and across the wider lakes, where we would hide when the occasional boat came by.

  When I first learned about the fire within me, I discovered I could throw tiny sparks from my fingers like the Fourth of July sparklers. To Marisol’s delight, I would dance around waving my arms—until some stray embers had drifted in a window and set Gran’s curtains ablaze.

  Gran tried to find a witch to teach me about fire, but none had my ability. I had some difficulty accepting that I was the only witch in the world who was a pyromaniac.

  I woke when Etienne came back to the apartment.

  He stalked in, clearly furious. He slammed the door behind him. I jerked into a sitting position, but couldn’t otherwise move. He froze me with his rage, though it wasn’t directed at
me. He stood rigid, arms straight, fists clenched, dark eyes shining, one of the most powerful men I’d ever met. The dark tattoos on his copper-skinned forearms stood out sharply and . . . Great Mother, did I see them move? There was a caustic wildness about him, one of the Earth Mother’s children whose every move, every gesture, could be a weapon.

  If Darrow was to be believed—and I saw no reason to think otherwise—Etienne and I had been unidentified opponents in the past. That was business. This fury was personal.

  I remained quiet and sat very still. No way did I want to draw his attention. His breathing slowed. After one final deep breath, he won his battle with rage. Those dark eyes focused in my direction.

  “There was a problem.” He sounded calm, but an edge of violence remained in his voice.

  I nodded my head, afraid to speak.

  “I went to Laudine’s and asked for your things.” His face flushed. He hadn’t relaxed much.

  “She objected?”

  “No. She didn’t object. I took two men with me. They loaded everything of yours in plastic bags and carried it to the car. When they finished, she said there was more.” His fury returned. He drew deep breaths. “The men went in and carried out another bag . . . and it . . . just outside the door it exploded in fire. They’re dead. Two men. I used a fire extinguisher, but the fire still burned.” He stared straight at me. “She kept screaming that she didn’t do it. Fire was your thing. That you put a spell on your possessions to stop thieves.”

  Thousands of things passed through my mind in that instance. The need to defend myself, to proclaim my innocence, came first. It would probably sound pretty hollow. “What do you think, Etienne?”

  He spoke with a low, brutal voice. “I think that the world would be better without this plague of witches.”

  No way would I argue with him. “Yeah, we are a bit of a plague. We’re too powerful to run loose like wild animals. But we have rules, and no witch, not me, not Laudine, is above them. There will be justice. I promise you.” I held out the palm of the hand that had so brutally been burned with the Solaire. “I will swear that on my life.”