Blood Moon (A Louisiana Demontale): Book 1 of the Crescent Crown Saga

by Schuyler Windham

  “Not that Arachne even wants me to escort her, but I can’t go to Mardi Gras anyway,” Leo frowned. “I have to work that night, and my boss won’t let me go.”

  “Oh . . .” Eshe’s eyes widened and she fell back on her heels. “That’s no good . . .”

  “Eshe . . .” Leo bit his lip. “Could you please break the protection spell on me?”

  Eshe’s face crinkled up in disgust. “Why would I do that?”

  “You care about Arachne, right?”

  Eshe nodded, trying to follow his train of thought.

  “You know if something bad happens to me, it will hurt her.”

  Eshe continued nodding.

  “Well, I don’t want her to get hurt because I’m weak.”

  “Oh!” Eshe exclaimed. “I understand! You care about Ari!”

  “Yes,” Leo smiled. “I do, very much.”

  “Leo, I know why you want to break the spell,” Eshe put her hands on her hips, mimicking Arachne. “But I won’t undo it.”

  Leo sighed.

  “I can undo it, but I won’t.” She grinned. “Because Arachne cares about you. And the spell lends Arachne’s strength to you, so please don’t worry about her. She’s very strong”

  Before Leo could reply, Marguerite stormed in from the back room.

  “Leo! What is this child doing here?” she snapped.

  Leo racked his brain and developed a good excuse, but before he could execute it, Eshe had already begun compelling Marguerite.

  “It’s okay for me to be here,” Eshe said. “I’m old enough.”

  “You’re old enough,” Marguerite repeated, nodding slowly.

  “I need to go now, anyway. But Leo,” she pointed to the box. “Please give this to Ari. It’s enchanted with only good things.”

  Eshe started toward the door, but then she suddenly twirled around like a ballerina and pointed at Marguerite.

  “Boss!” she yelled.

  “Y-yes?”

  “You will let Leo go to Mardi Gras tomorrow!”

  “Of course, I will let him . . .” Marguerite nodded furtively.

  “Thank you, bye!” Eshe beamed at Leo and then danced toward the door. “Oh. Leo?”

  Leo raised an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk on his lips.

  “I just wanted to let you know her birthday is March 14th.”

  “Got it, thanks.”

  Eshe grinned and let the door shut behind her. Marguerite shook her head, breaking from the mesmer with confusion. “I . . . don’t know why, but I changed my mind,” she looked up at Leo apologetically. “We’ll be fine here. You can leave early on Mardi Gras.”

  Leo leaned over the bar and rested his fist on his cheek again, this time smugly. He almost tried to keep the sarcasm from melting into his words. “Gee—thanks, Marguerite!”

  “What’s this?” she asked, ignoring his snark. She motioned toward the black velvet box with a violet ribbon wrapped around it.

  “A gift.” Leo picked the box up and carefully opened it.

  The box snapped open to reveal a stunning corsage and boutonnière to match. The plum-colored rose was accentuated by hydrangeas, lilacs, and baby’s breath, intertwined on a pearl bracelet. A sweet scent magically filled the bar and overwhelmed Marguerite and Leo. It felt as though they had been transported to a springtime gazebo, surrounded by crisp moonlight and magnolia blooms.

  “Wow.” She gaped at the flowers. “That . . . is . . .”

  “Almost as beautiful as the woman who is going to wear it,” Leo smiled softly. He carefully closed the box and slipped it into his jacket pocket, alongside the gold encrusted invitation.

  Leo stood with the crowd, waiting for the parade to begin. The gorgeous boutonnière pushed through his suit lapel tickled his nose with aromas as tangible as memories: Promenades past lily pads, kissed by starlight and the gentle crooning of a lone trumpet on an empty, humid night. He straightened his black tie and tried to focus his attention on the parade.

  Purple, green, and gold confetti danced through the sky. Leo felt elated as he cheered with the crowd. Baton and flag twirlers marched passed, followed by proud brass bands. Women wearing extravagant masquerade masks tossed beads and clutch purses from painted floats and waved to the people below.

  Though finally feeling a little more like himself, Leo hated being reminded that he, too, was a performer. He should have been playing music that night rather than just swaying with the crowd. But soon these bittersweet thoughts dissipated as Arachne’s float approached, hot pink and black with silver streamers. A painted statue of the Goddess Nyx headed the float, wearing a shawl of galaxies and stars around her nude body.

  Arachne waved from atop the float, a bored expression plastered on her face behind a feathered mask. Her ball gown was soft black with a sweetheart neckline and an open back. The dress billowed out to a floor-length hemline, dusted with silver and gold glitter near the bottom. Keres stood nearby, wearing a black lace dress hemmed shorter in front and longer in the back, grinning and waving enthusiastically. Eshe was also on the float, showering the crowd with rose petals from a silver basket. She wore a sparkling hot pink dress and a crown of pink roses in her hair. She grinned mischievously down at Leo as they rode by.

  Leo blushed and grinned up at Arachne. He caught her eye, and she froze for a moment in surprise. Then, she nervously smiled and waved at him. After their float passed by, Leo straightened his suit jacket and headed for a side street to make a shortcut to the end of the parade.

  When Arachne’s float arrived, Leo waited at the exit for her. She stepped down from the float, elegant. Regal. He offered her his arm. She obliged, but did not look at his face as her high heels clacked onto the street. Keres and Eshe followed close behind. Before Leo could speak, a magnificent horse and carriage pranced forward and halted in front of them.

  “Our ride?” he asked. Arachne nodded and they climbed into the carriage.

  “I’ll bring Eshe in the next carriage.” Keres waved at them. Arachne nodded curtly back at her.

  As the horses started on toward Saint-Germain’s estate, Arachne and Leo turned to each other and spoke at the same time.

  “You go first,” Arachne blushed.

  “No, no . . .” Leo shook his head. They stared at each other for another moment and then laughed nervously.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have forced a spell on you. And you’re right. I should show you a little more respect.”

  Leo flashed her a smile, raising his eyebrows. “A little?” he teased.

  “Okay, a lot.” She smiled back, then bit her lip. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  “If you can do the same for me.” He took her hand. “I didn’t mean what I said . . .”

  “Yes, you did.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I need to listen a little closer. I am arrogant.”

  “Arachne . . .” Leo started in protest.

  “I think it’s my duty to protect people from the trouble I cause. I just seem to get people in worse danger! Leo . . . I’ve lost so many people. Some outside my control, because I didn’t have enough strength to protect them, and others because of my own mistakes.” Arachne slumped back in the carriage seat. “But it’s no excuse to override what you want. You have choices. You don’t need to be here.”

  “I do have choices,” Leo agreed. “You are the fiercest, cleverest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I choose to be right here with you.”

  Arachne looked up at him, her amethyst eyes glittering under the streetlamps. Leo pulled the box out of his suit pocket and opened it for her. She gasped as the sweet aroma enveloped them. She delicately took the corsage from the box and slipped it onto her wrist.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “I wish I could take credit for it,” Leo pointed to the boutonnière on his lapel. “But these were a gift from Eshe.”

  “They are absolutely . . . charming.” she blushed
.

  The carriage approached Saint-Germain’s Magnolia Mansion and entered through a foreboding iron gate. The second they rode through the threshold, the darkened grounds lit up with floating lights. Blossoming magnolia trees and weeping cherry trees lined the path. They joined the other horse-drawn carriages at the porte-cochère and waited their turn to enter beneath the pillared awning.

  Leo marveled at the decadent mansion as they entered the foyer, whose walls of rich rosewood were trimmed with gold. Glittering diamond chandeliers hung along the ceiling, emitting intoxicating golden light. Guests meandered into the ballroom, where a joyful jazz band blared. They were greeted by an extravagantly dressed Saint-Germain, adorned in red and white silk with a silver feathered mask.

  “Welcome, welcome, the guests of honor!” he shouted jovially. His voice lowered and strained as he examined Leo. “This is a masquerade ball! Where the devil is your mask?”

  Leo touched his face and realized he wasn’t wearing one, and then shrugged sheepishly.

  “Tut-tut!” Saint-Germain clapped his hands twice, and a young woman appeared with several masks on a sterling platter. Saint-Germain plucked a simple black and gold one and handed it to Leo. The woman bowed and slipped away.

  Leo pressed the mask to his face, but struggled to tie the ribbon behind his head.

  “Here, let me help.” Arachne quickly straightened the mask and tied it in the back. Leo’s heart fluttered as he smelled warm honey from her hair. “There, perfect.”

  “Come, come, enjoy the party!” Saint-Germain swept his arms toward the ballroom. “I will find our old friends . . .”

  Leo lent Arachne his arm again, and they proceeded up the stairs and through the reception hall. A colorful spread of hors d'oeuvres and desserts lined the wall. Servers ran around with trays of treats and glasses of wine for the patrons. Arachne raised her hand, and a server stopped to offer them wine.

  “Blood merlot for me,” she smiled sweetly. “And clean champagne for my date.”

  The server carefully placed the crystal glasses in their hands and scurried away.

  “I guess we know where all of Saint-Germain’s treasure went.” Leo ogled the immaculate marble floors and several story-high windows.

  “Most of it, anyway.” Arachne sipped her wine.

  Leo grabbed various hors d’oeuvres as they meandered past on serving trays. He indiscriminately ate everything that crossed his path: bacon-wrapped stuffed mushrooms, caviar-sprinkled goat cheese bruschetta, bite-sized smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches, spicy Italian meatballs, soft cream puffs, white and dark chocolate swirl-dipped strawberries. He relished the way the champagne danced and bubbled on his tongue, crisp and slightly sweet. Arachne watched him curiously down several glasses of champagne and taste every hors d’oeuvre twice over.

  “Do you have a favorite?” she snickered as he relished another bite.

  He shook his head, almost tearing up. “It’s all so good.”

  Saint-Germain led a small party toward Arachne and Leo through the throngs of dancing and chatting partygoers. Leo raised his eyebrows at the three guests as they approached.

  “These are our demon allies,” Arachne whispered hurriedly in Leo’s ear. He straightened himself to look as respectable as possible.

  The first demon was short; even shorter than Arachne, barely five feet tall. Her small, pale face, delicately painted lips, and lavender eyes were framed by short black hair. Spectacular translucent rainbow butterfly wings emanated from between her shoulder blades. She rested her hand on the hilt of a sheathed katana strapped to her hip over a pale blue silk dress. A matching silk mask adorned her face.

  “Here we have Chio Akuma, the butterfly demon hailing from Japan,” Saint-Germain introduced her. She bowed toward Leo and Arachne, polite and composed. The second demon stormed forward in front of Chio and extended his hand. Chio pressed her lips together and her brow furled ever so slightly as she wordlessly stepped back.

  “Bael!” The demon exclaimed, grasping Leo’s hand exuberantly. He was tall and lanky, except for a round pot belly. His skin was slightly green in color, and a mop of seaweed-like hair sat atop his head like a crown. A mischievous grin crept across his face, and he winked at Leo behind a green leather mask.

  “Bael, the frog demon hailing from Peru.”

  “I consider the bayou my second home!” Bael chortled. “It’s good to be back in good ol’ Louisiana!”

  “Nice to meet you.” Leo smiled weakly as Bael continued to shake his hand for a few more moments.

  “You’re a swell guy, I can tell!” Bael exclaimed, and then he pulled his hand away to slap his knee. Saint-Germain shot him a pointed glance before directing their attention to the third and largest demon. He had the face and body of a bat, with wolflike ears and an unreadable expression on his pointed snout. He wore a tweed vest and black satin bow tie with a matching mask. His fur was the color of amber cognac, and he wrapped his coal black wings around himself like a cloak. Leo recognized the color of his wings and fur as that of the little bat on Arachne’s apartment terrace, except in his demon form he was tall and looming.

  “And may I present the venerable Vrykos, the bat demon hailing from Hungary.”

  Vrykos ignored Leo, and instead paced forward to place a clawed hand lightly atop Arachne’s head.

  “You are absolutely ravishing.” His voice was deep, like velvet. It sent Leo’s heart pounding.

  “Thank you, sir!” Arachne beamed up at him.

  “This evening, we celebrate you and your incurable ambition.” He cocked his head to the side.

  “I only learned from the best,” she blushed.

  “Indeed.”

  Saint-Germain welcomed more wine into their circle. “The toast is in half an hour,” he reminded them all, and then sauntered away, disappearing in the swirling dancers.

  “He is a . . .” Chio faltered for the word briefly. “. . . an interesting man.”

  “That’s polite, Chio,” Arachne snickered. “Saint-Germain is a character.”

  “With good taste!” Bael bellowed out a laugh before swigging his wine with gusto. The band ended a song, and the ballroom erupted in applause.

  “I hate to intrude,” Leo cleared his throat as the band struck up their next song. “But may I borrow Arachne for a dance?”

  The demons eyed him curiously and nodded. He held out his hand toward her.

  “Care to dance?”

  Arachne set her empty glass on an empty platter as it breezed by and smiled. “Yes.”

  They twirled around the dance floor among the other guests. Leo’s heart fluttered as he placed his hand on the small of her back. Her dress floated around her like a dream.

  “I haven’t had this much fun in centuries,” Arachne giggled. Leo spun her around and then brought her in close.

  “Really?” he grinned. “If I knew a Mardi Gras parade and masquerade ball would lift your spirits so much, I would have called Saint-Germain a month ago.”

  Arachne laughed. “But I didn’t think I would like it.”

  “Yet here you are, finally enjoying yourself!”

  “You have a dimple in your cheek when you smile.” She cocked her head to the side. “It makes me happy every time I see it.”

  “Wait . . .” Leo’s grin grew larger. “You didn’t call me your friend earlier. You called me your date!”

  “Don’t get any ideas.” She rolled her eyes, but her smirk sent Leo’s stomach fluttering with butterflies.

  “I won’t if that’s not what you want,” he breathed. “But something tells me you’re not so guarded anymore . . . It seems you’re especially vulnerable to the wiles of my dimple.”

  Arachne pursed her lips and didn’t answer. Instead, she let him guide her across the ballroom, deftly avoiding the other swaying and twirling bodies.

  “Where did you learn to dance?” she finally demanded.

  “There are two things my dad taught me. The first was how to dance.” He leaned
in. “And the second was to never pass up the opportunity to woo a warrior of a woman.”

  Arachne blushed. “Your mom must be awfully lucky.”

  “They both are.”

  Arachne sighed and let her arms fall. “I need a moment.”

  Leo let her go, and she smiled weakly back at him before making her way to the reception hall. He watched the brass band for a few minutes, listening to the horns blare out a lilting tune. But soon, Leo felt piercing eyes on him, and he turned slowly to peer over his shoulder. Keres glared at him through the windows on the terrace, arms crossed over her chest disapprovingly. Leo weighed his options, and then sauntered to the French doors leading out onto the terrace.

  Keres turned on her heel and stalked to the marble railing hanging over the garden, ignoring him. He slowly met her there, putting his hands in his pants pockets and following her gaze into the night.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “What’s up?” she hissed, digging her fingernails into the balcony railing. Leo recoiled at the screech of her nails on marble, but held his position. He waited, and she eased her shoulders slightly.

  “I came here to celebrate with Arachne.” Keres frowned deeply, her blood-red lips like two rose petals. “But she only has eyes for you.”

  “You matter much more to her,” he shrugged. “I’m just a blip in her life.”

  “Yes, you are a short-lived tryst,” she sneered. Then she turned and leaned forward. She gazed into his eyes with her own ruby-red stare and licked her lips. “I could take care of you, if you wanted . . .”

  Leo’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, and then her eyes narrowed.

  “You can’t be compelled.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “What are you trying to do? Seduce me, or . . . eat me?”

  “What does it matter?” She shrugged one shoulder and glared at him.

  “It matters because you’re trying to hurt your friend,” Leo murmured.

  Keres suddenly raised her hand and slapped his face. He cursed, taking a step back.

  “You don’t even know her,” Keres snapped. “She is much more than you could possibly fathom to me . . . to us. And you . . . you are just a pathetic mortal human.”