Phantom Moon

by Gaja J. Kos

  Though my wolf growled at the witch’s dominance, the rational side of me knew just how futile it would be to challenge her.

  Among these walls, she was superior.

  Dismissing my inner wolf, I pulled my phone from my bag with a sweaty hand and brought up the photo of the symbols carved into our victims. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me the meaning of this writing.”

  I increased the brightness and turned the screen towards the witch. She glided forward, a delicate frown forming between her shapely eyebrows. A frown that only deepened as she zoomed in on the marks with two slender fingers.

  “I’m sorry.” She let her hand drop from the phone. “The root of the symbols appears to be tied to magic of a darker variety, but I am unfamiliar with this specific branch.”

  My spirits plummeted. All of this…for nothing?

  “However,” the witch went on, “this might not be the end of your inquiry.”

  No shit. One dead end didn’t mean I could just give up.

  I swiped up the photo app, but when I made to put my phone away, the witch grabbed my wrist.

  Something passed through her expression—as if the contact with the blood staining my skin confirmed something she had suspected. I held back a shudder.

  “There’s a bookstore that specializes in the occult.” She tucked the offering under one arm and motioned me to hand over my phone.

  Dazed, it took me a second to comply.

  The witch’s black-painted nails tap-tap-tapped against the cracked screen as she promptly entered an address into the maps app, saved it, then returned the phone to me.

  “They hide in plain sight, but if you ask the proper questions, you just might get the answers.”

  I zipped up my bag and hooked one thumb behind the strap. Maybe this wasn’t a wise idea, but—

  “Why help me?”

  Her eyebrows rose, but it was clear this display of confusion was nothing more than an act. We both knew I’d burned my one question the offering secured when I asked her about the symbols.

  She’d been in no way obliged to present me additional information.

  After a few seconds, the witch shrugged. “I tasted your future, Lotte Freundenberger. It seemed like you could use a reprieve.”

  My mouth parted, but we were done with words. Something in the texture of magic hinted as much. Maybe it was a test to see if I’d pick up on it or overstay my welcome, but I definitely had no intention of exploring just how far the coven’s hospitality went. I thanked the witch, then her sisters, and got the fuck out while I could.

  But even as I left the building behind, those damn words lingered.

  This case was proof enough that my future wasn’t some damn easy road to travel, but I had a suspicion the witch hadn’t been referring to my job. I sighed and carefully rubbed my eyes, avoiding the mascara.

  As late in the afternoon as it was, I wouldn’t be able to make it across Berlin to the bookstore in time, so I quickly looked up the nearest park and headed in that direction. My nose was still singed from the abundance of magic, and I desperately needed to connect with nature to clear my head. Treetops brushed the clear blue sky up ahead. I rubbed at the blood still clinging to my now-healed arm and hastened my step. The inviting sight lured me to it, and I could almost feel—

  Shit.

  I barely careened to the side and caught myself on the chipped wall as a figure manifested on the sidewalk. The power and self-importance leaking from her tore a menacing growl from my lips.

  Reprieve, my ass.

  I took in the flaming red hair, those cold green eyes watching me like a motherfucking object she couldn’t wait to steal.

  A cruel smile touched Raya’s lips. “Hello, my darling Lotte.”

  13

  Red touched the corners of my vision.

  Raya. Fucking Raya was standing in front of me. Alone.

  “Your powers have grown quite deliciously since we last saw each other,” she purred.

  The red deepened.

  No flunkies lurked nearby to come to their liege’s aid. No Shadow World protection. Raya was in my realm now.

  But while I wanted nothing more than to unleash my wolf and the demon fire pressing against my skin just to test out how untouchable the bitch truly was, I couldn’t afford a repeat of yesterday morning. There were too many pedestrians on the other side of the sidewalk. The parked cars granted them some cover, but not nearly enough for all the fury burning within me as I glared at Raya’s perfect face.

  I doubted even people several streets over would be spared if I acted on my wrath.

  “You need me, Lotte, whether you want to admit it or not.” Raya smiled, standing like a godsdamned statue in the middle of the sidewalk.

  The teenage human approaching from behind eyed the demon lord, then promptly skirted across the street. A few other pedestrians sent curious looks our way, but Raya seemed untroubled by the attention.

  Somehow, that only enraged me further.

  “Get the fuck out of my way,” I snarled and pushed away from the building.

  The demon lord, of course, did no such thing.

  She gave me one of those looks parents give their children when they’re throwing a tantrum—only in her case, I dreaded to think what the punishment might be. Thankfully, I wasn’t about to wait around to find out.

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way.” My fingers curled into fists by my side, a lick of blue skimming the tips. “I want nothing to do with you or your court. Or did you not get my damn message?”

  Raya tossed a long strand of silken red hair over one tanned shoulder. “Nothing? Truly? Not even your mate?”

  “Afanasiy is not my mate,” I snapped without hesitating, but the old hurt ruptured the painstakingly crafted dam I’d tucked it behind and flooded my insides.

  Satisfaction whisked across Raya’s face. The bitch. Before she could open her mouth to taunt me further, I grabbed her by her slender shoulders and shoved her hard against the wall.

  A few surprised gasps fluttered into the sky from behind, followed by footsteps that let me know the pedestrians had made themselves scarce. Good. I let a trail of demon fire creep across Raya’s exposed collarbones, hovering above, but not quite touching her pale skin.

  “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, Raya. Stay the fuck away from me.”

  A corner of her lips quirked up, and the air sizzled with a warning.

  Faster than I could react, Raya blasted me. My back hit a parked car, its alarm howling, and I dropped onto the sidewalk like a damn turd.

  Demon fire blazed around my crumpled form.

  I trained my gaze on Raya, my fingers digging into the warm pavement. “You fucking bitch.”

  “You’ll come to me eventually, Lotte,” she said as I pushed myself to my feet. “We have all the time in the world, you and I.”

  I lunged, but Raya dissolved into particles before I could throttle her slender neck.

  Which was probably for the better.

  My resolve to employ caution had been thinning by the second.

  I watched the now-empty spot, nothing but a faint energy imprint resting behind. Just for a moment, I allowed myself to close my eyes, then sent a text to Roth to let him know about the disturbance. With the foul mood I was in, I had no desire to wait around for the police to show. The dent on the car wasn’t that bad. The owner could take it up with ICRA if they wanted to.

  As soon as I cleared the blaring alarm, I phoned Alec.

  “Lotte—”

  “Raya just paid me a visit.”

  “Shit. Are you all right?”

  I waited for the light to turn green, then crossed the street. “I’m fine. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. She’s determined to have me, and I wouldn’t put it past her to come after those I care about to chain me to her. Can you reach out to everyone?”

  “Of course.” His determination drifted down the line. As did the anger. “You know we’re here for you, right?�
�

  I did. But Raya was a fucking demon lord. A bunch of supes, no matter how good each of us was in our own might, could hardly counter the sheer force of the bitch.

  “Just make sure Voit gets the info first,” I said instead.

  Raya had already kept her son in the dark before, and she’d been none too pleased when he’d intervened after her flunkies had manhandled and dragged me to the Shadow World.

  “I will.”

  “Thanks, Alec. I’ll be in touch soon, yeah?”

  We said our goodbyes, though it was clear there had been volumes Alec had still wanted to say. Unfortunately, with my fraying patience, I had a suspicion growling over the wretched situation would do me more harm than good. I considered myself lucky Alec understood my needs without me having to explain them.

  Now I just hoped our friendship wouldn’t dump a stinking pile of shit in his lap.

  After an excruciatingly long evening of going through every damn report Roth had given me but coming no closer to figuring out anything that hadn’t already been noted, I was eager to hit the occult bookstore in Steglitz as soon as it opened the following day.

  I hurried down the busy street, cutting through patches of sunshine and shade thanks to the trees looming overhead. The abundance of fumes and an odd mix of scents coming from the many stores, cafes, bakeries, and who knew what else lining both sidewalks irritated my inner wolf, yet at the same time, I couldn’t deny that the essence of the late morning filled with purpose put some more energy into my step. The essence that spoke of people getting shit done.

  Precisely what I was hoping to achieve.

  A dainty bell rang overhead as I veered into the bookstore. While small from the outside with only a glass-paneled door and a single window allowing a glimpse into its interior, the shop stretched into the distance, shelves and tables arranged in a manner that opened up the narrow space instead of making it crammed. Props to whoever came up with the design.

  I made my way towards the antique desk dominating the far end, but slowed when three magic wielders deposited a downright tower of books before the cashier. Somehow, I got the feeling it would take him a while to ring up their purchases. Caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement, I let my gaze skim the shelves.

  While I’d educated myself a bit more on all things magic since joining ICRA, the sheer number of literature staring back at me made me realize just how meager my knowledge still was. Histories of the original branches, post-War variants that were, more often than not, a combination of those early groups, but sometimes an entirely new direction altogether. Then came tomes on herbs, magical items, spells…

  The farther I went, the older the books became. None were ancient, but they did go back a century or so, at long last seeing the light of day, now that the supernaturals were out in the open. I even spotted titles pertaining to other, non-magic-wielding species, but that sector was tiny compared to everything else.

  A rise in volume drew my attention to the cashier. I waited by the narrow bookcase while the three women ambled out of the store, tote bags all but bursting at the seams. A faint trail of earth-scented magic lingered behind them as I closed the distance and flashed the bookseller a kind smile—one he wasted no time to return.

  He closed a drawer on the desk, struggling a little as it snagged on something. “Hi, how can I help you?”

  They hide in plain sight, but if you ask the proper questions, you just might get the answers.

  The witch’s words rang through my head, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the proper questions could be.

  So I settled for a simple, “I was told you might have resources that aren’t exactly common knowledge.”

  “What kind of resources?” Though his shaggy face revealed nothing, his reply came just a touch too fast for it to be sincere. He knew damn well what I was talking about.

  I grabbed a tiny bag filled with dry sage leaves from the bone-white box situated on the right-hand side of the desk. The scent drifting through the mesh tickled my nose, though the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  “I’m researching some old magic that hasn’t truly been in use since the 1800s.” I placed the bag back in its proper spot. “It’s symbol-based, but so far, I’ve had no luck unraveling their meaning.”

  Magic probed me—just a gentle wisp that would have probably gone unnoticed if I didn’t have every sense at my disposal tuned to the highest possible sensitivity setting.

  The power whisked across the wolf in me. Then the demon. Surprise briefly lit the man’s honey-brown eyes, but dissipated just as quickly.

  “Everything I have is in that section.” He motioned to one of the shelves I’d already inspected. “If it isn’t there, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  A cold laugh left my lips. “You know I’m a werewolf.”

  His brows knitted together, and I fought to conceal my grunt. Why was it that people like to play the ignorance card so much?

  “If you know I’m a werewolf,” I drawled, “then you’re also aware of the fact that I can smell the body’s reaction when someone’s telling me a lie.”

  Not the whole truth, since some lied better than others, making them virtually impossible to figure out, but with him, there was no doubt. That spike in magic, sweat, and heartbeat had confirmed what I suspected.

  I leaned against the counter with both hands and brought my demon fire to my fingertips. It didn’t scorch the antique wood, but climbed across it, inching ever closer to the bookseller.

  His heartbeat sped up.

  “I thought I’d do this the kind way and ask.” The flames were nearly at the edge of the desk now. Just a short leap away from his body. “But if you refuse to cooperate, I will drag your ass to ICRA. Or maybe let my flames explain just how important it is for me to understand those symbols. After all, we wouldn’t want the blood of innocents on your hands, now would we?”

  He swallowed audibly and shook his head. “I have no books.”

  “Liar,” I said softly—and sent the flames racing at him.

  The man backpedaled. His back hit the shelves mounted on the wall behind him. “ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT!”

  A few notebooks tumbled to the ground as he caught himself, eyeing my flames that hovered midair.

  “Fuck.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Come with me. Just…just put the damn fire away.”

  Hiding a smile, I did as requested. The man wiped the sweat off his face, swore under his breath, then motioned me to follow him into the back.

  We crossed what appeared to be the office and carried on through a plain unlocked door. Darkness gaped past the threshold, emitting a scent that, while non-threatening, bore traces of magic. Needless to say, I let the bookseller take the lead.

  He cast me a look that conveyed he was damn well aware of my caution—and was a touch irritated by it—but stepped into the room first.

  The overhead light buzzed when he flicked it on, revealing a square-shaped space with a single desk pushed into one corner and shelves dominating most of the walls. The magic, I realized, served to preserve the tomes.

  I placed one foot over the threshold.

  “Take a seat,” he muttered without as much as looking at me.

  Staring at his back, I swallowed my apology. I hated intimidating someone who’d done nothing truly wrong, but his sour mood was a small price to pay if this brought me a step closer to understanding the murders. To stopping Isa.

  Justifiable or not, though, I wasn’t the biggest fan of myself right now.

  I plopped my butt in the old swivel chair and observed the bookseller meander through several free-standing shelves as well as more sturdier ones that were mounted on the walls and harbored monstrously thick tomes. He set one pile of selected works on the desk next to me, then dove right back in again. With every book he picked, plumes of dust rose into the air and filled the stuffy room with the essence of old paper—and residual magic. As if the many owner
s they had had over the years each left an imprint.

  It pierced through the discreet protective layer I’d sensed earlier, an intriguing blend of different lives that piqued my curiosity. Like with scents, these threads carried not only the persons’ essences, but their stories.

  Unfortunately, deciphering them wasn’t something I could do, regardless of my hybrid capabilities.

  “This is all there is on obscure magic in the 1800s and earlier,” the bookseller said as he deposited the second stack on the desk. “These”—he motioned to the tower on the left—“pertain to dark magic specifically. And these”—the doorbell in the shop rang, and the man glanced over his shoulder, almost knocking one of the books off the pile—“cover symbols not in common use.”

  “Thank you,” I said, then added, “I’ll take good care of your books.”

  He didn’t seem entirely convinced—not that I could blame him after my pyro show earlier—but left me alone as he went to deal with his customers. I delved into the first stack, the one he’d said referred to dark magic, but the longer I skimmed through the pages, the less hope I had that I’d find something of use.

  By the time I closed the final tome, the only thing I was left with was information I was pretty certain would haunt my dreams for quite some time to come. Werewolves had a bloody past, but it was nothing compared to the shit magic wielders had done throughout history.

  I shuddered and tackled the second pile.

  The bookseller didn’t bother me, though I heard and smelled him lingering in front of the door every now and then. Probably making sure I hadn’t burned anything yet. The thought at least scattered some of my annoyance. I leafed through more pages, scanning the symbols—

  My gaze caught on a mark.

  I leaned forward and studied the swirls. The pattern matched.

  Blood coursing faster through my veins, I took a closer look at the following mark.

  Then the next.

  There were some variations—a vine here, a twist there, but this was still as close to what our victims had carved in their dead flesh as it came. The text on the side was in blackletter, which was a damn strain on the eyes, but thanks to my dad’s little library corner at home, it wasn’t unfamiliar.