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

by Schuyler Windham

  Arachne nodded. “Werewolves must change during a full moon, and they can’t change during a new moon. During any other phase of the moon, they can transition at will.”

  “That’s way different than the movies.”

  “It’s also mostly hereditary,” she explained as they approached his car. “Werewolves are more like witches in this way. Wolves have packs with deep familial bonds, and witches form covens. But whereas witchcraft is entirely hereditary, and vampirism is infectious, werewolves are in between. If a werewolf bites someone during the full moon, they will also turn into a werewolf.”

  Leo unlocked his car doors and they hopped in.

  “That’s wild,” Leo shook his head, pausing before he shoved the key into the ignition. “So werewolves are creatures of the night like vampires?”

  “Yes—they have a demon sire just like myself.”

  “But what about witches? You mentioned they are different. Where does their magic come from?”

  “Magic is derived from the universe itself. Witches were born with the ability to access that magic through the Earth and bend it to their will. But as you know, there is always a price to pay with any spell. And you have to understand, Leo . . .” Arachne bit her lip. “Vampires and werewolves live a cursed life. Yes, vampires are more or less immortal. Vampires and werewolves are blessed with super strength and speed. But vampires are hungry. This hunger burns deep inside them, always prescient. They feel it in every fiber of their being. Without discipline, their hunger ravages them. And the more a werewolf transforms into a wolf, the more they turn demonic, animalistic, and lose their humanity.”

  “Why would anyone willingly transform into a wolf?” Leo leaned back in his seat, his hands grasping the steering wheel, Marceline’s glowing orange eyes in his mind.

  “It’s who they are,” Arachne explained softly. “Some transitions earlier in life might be worth the risk just to feel the exhilaration of being a wolf and use their strength to protect their pack. But if they transition too much, the damage is permanent.”

  Leo remembered the dark bear-wolf that attacked Monette when they were children, and his skin crawled. Was it a werewolf?

  His throat was dry. “Arachne . . .”

  She set a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his shoulder muscle with precision. “You’re stressed.”

  “I should have told you.” He wavered. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it really happened. All these years I tried not to even think about it. But when Monette and I were little, we were attacked in the woods by a huge . . . wolf . . . or bear . . . Now I think it might have been a werewolf . . .” He hesitated, meeting her gaze and trying to interpret her expression.

  “It was enormous, with fiery red eyes . . .”

  Arachne gasped, and her hand fell to the console, clenching into a fist as she trembled.

  “Leo . . . that was no werewolf.”

  He swallowed, waiting with anticipation as she bit her lip, looking away.

  “It sounds like, from your description . . .” she took a breath. “It sounds like a hellhound. Garmr.”

  “A hellhound?”

  She turned back to face him, her eyes wide. “You’re lucky to be alive. If it was attacking you, it was doing someone else’s work . . . Whose, I couldn't say . . .”

  “My dad shot it with his rifle.”

  Arachne’s eyebrows rose. “Did he notice it wasn’t normal?”

  Leo shrugged, trying to remember. “I think he was afraid. But he didn’t say anything about it.”

  “Hm . . .” Arachne slumped into the car seat.

  Leo started the car. He flipped on the headlights as he pulled out of the Crescent Fang vineyard, hearing Marceline’s howl once more as they drove away.

  Chapter 16

  Arachne and Leo lay sprawled out on the beach as Eshe splashed in the shallows of the turquoise waters. Seagulls squawked lazily overhead. Arachne had her nose in a book and Leo strummed a bossa nova tune on his acoustic guitar.

  “That’s nice,” Arachne murmured after a while.

  “Thanks.” He smiled and gently placed the guitar down on the sand next to him. “Hey, what are you up to tonight?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, looking up from her book.

  “Tonight is my birthday!” Leo beamed. “Monette and I are having a little party at her favorite bar, if you’re interested . . .”

  “Of course I’ll come to your birthday party.” Arachne frowned. “But I don’t know why you didn’t tell me about your birthday.”

  “You never asked,” Leo shrugged. “Anyway, I’m telling you now.”

  “Ugh, Leo . . . how am I supposed to procure a proper gift in time? You were so sweet with your gift . . .” She softly touched the amethyst heart hanging over her chest.

  He looked down at her and then peered over at Eshe, who giggled as she chased the seagulls, to make sure she was hopefully out of earshot. He thought back to when they spied on Arachne and Keres at the bridge. She wanted to be with him . . . it shouldn’t be so awkward to ask . . .

  “Last weekend . . .” Leo murmured. “At the vineyard . . . You know . . . it’s been five months since we started dating . . .”

  “And?”

  “I know you said you needed time, and I don’t want to rush you.” Leo paused. “But maybe it’s time we took our relationship to the next level?”

  “Oh.” Arachne laid her back onto the sand and put the book she was reading over her eyes.

  “I figure five months is like the blink of an eye to you, but five months is a long time in a human life.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Can you explain how it’s complicated?”

  “I like you, Leo. You’re caring, and handsome, and a good listener . . .”

  “But?”

  “There’s no ‘but’!” Arachne sighed, turning and propping herself on her side. The book fell from her face and plopped on to the sand. “I’m a demon, and you’re a human.”

  “I care about you, and I don’t care if you’re a demon.”

  “I care that I’m a demon!”

  “We’re talking in circles.” Leo nodded over toward Eshe, who had abandoned the seagulls and was now collecting seashells. “You said that Eshe is a child from a vampire and a witch. How’s that?”

  “They fell in love and had a baby,” Arachne explained facetiously.

  “Vampires and demons can’t have babies though, right?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Leo! It’s a long story,” Arachne sighed. “The short of it is that they used a forbidden spell.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Arachne didn’t answer. Leo listened to the waves crashing on the shore for several minutes before she finally responded.

  “They gave their lives to protect Eshe.”

  They loved her enough to bring her into this world . . . only to lose their lives in the process? He thought. Then he became even more resolute.

  “Look, I’m not immortal. I don’t have centuries. I have at most forty to fifty more years before it’s lights out for me.”

  “I can’t help you right now,” Arachne said, her words drenched with salt. “I can’t focus on two different things at once.”

  “You don’t want to focus on two things at once.”

  “I am busy trying to wrangle a court together and not get us killed in the process! Anyway, I’m a . . . a monster. I don’t know why you would be with me in the first place . . .”

  Leo tried not to wince at her words. “It seems like you’re into me. But then you remember I’m just a human, and don’t want to anymore? Because you’re a spider demon?”

  “It’s complicated,” Arachne snapped, springing up from the beach. “This conversation is over!” She kicked the sand in front of her and stomped away.

  “Wait, Arachne!” he yelled after her.

  “No thanks!” she called back.

  “Please come back!”

  “Not right now!”

  Leo w
atched as she stormed down the beach. Then he sighed and flipped his sunglasses over his eyes. Great. You really fucked that one up, Leo. He grabbed his acoustic guitar and started finger-picking a mournful tune in E minor. As he followed the melody into the refrain, he felt a pang in his head. Grunting, he carefully placed his guitar back down on the beach. The pang grew into a roaring headache, and he pressed his hands firmly to his skull to try and quell the pain. A vision stabbed his brain.

  Monette screamed, and was being dragged down a dark corridor. A horrid creature with matted fur had her swung over its back as it hobbled through a dark passage. Sweat beaded on Leo’s brow, and he yelled as the vision dissipated.

  “Mona!”

  Eshe was at his side in a heartbeat, squatting down to marvel at his distress. “You look sick.”

  “I saw something,” Leo gasped. “I don’t know why—”

  “What did you see?” Eshe pressed.

  “My sister . . . she was being abducted by something . . . an ugly son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Do you know where?”

  Leo rubbed his knuckles into his forehead. “Dark stones . . . I don’t know.”

  Eshe tapped her lips with her index finger, deep in thought. After a few moments, she began to draw a symbol in the sand.

  “This will hurt,” she murmured. “But it should help us locate your sister.”

  “Wait, this vision is really happening? I’m not just losing it?”

  Eshe stopped tracing in the sand to peer up at him curiously. “You ask me if your vision is real, yet you accept that I do magic, and Arachne is a demon. Does it really seem strange to you?”

  Leo was dumbfounded. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

  “You cannot be compelled.” Eshe continued tracing the sand. “There is something more to you than meets the eye. You and your sister are twins born on the Summer Solstice. It appears you have some soul or psychic bond.”

  “You were listening to Arachne and my conversation.” Leo frowned.

  Eshe shrugged innocently and returned to tracing a meticulous sigil of swirls, knots, and arrows. When she finished, she asked for Leo’s hand. He looked away as she took out a small dagger from her dress and deftly pierced his skin. A few drops of his blood soaked into the sand and the symbol began to glow.

  Eshe leaned over and placed her small hands on Leo’s temple. Immediately, he felt the vision stabbing at his brain once more. But now Eshe was there with him, watching as the disgusting creature carried Monette through dingy tunnels which reeked of excrement.

  “The sewers,” they said at the same time. Leo’s eyes fluttered open to see Eshe biting her lip nervously.

  “This is a wretched demon—” she began.

  “Leo, something’s wrong!” Arachne interrupted, storming up and holding out her arm. She was bleeding from deep scratch marks, although her skin quickly repaired itself as she spoke.

  “It’s Monette.” Leo stood. “She’s in danger.”

  Arachne glared down at Leo’s arm, but only saw the wound from Eshe’s dagger on the palm of his hand.

  “I . . . transitioned the protection spell from Leo onto Monette, as per his request,” Eshe explained. “A demon took her to the sewers.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Arachne groaned. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

  “I can track her, but my compass is at home. With it, you can follow the trail and rescue her.”

  “Thanks, Eshe.” Leo patted her head. She smiled warmly and gave him a quick hug around his leg.

  “We don’t have much time,” Arachne said as she gathered their things. “This demon wants her for a reason.”

  “It is the Summer Solstice,” Eshe reflected. “Perhaps a ritual.”

  “Then we need to get to her well before midnight.” Arachne nodded sternly.

  They rushed to Leo’s Civic with their things, and he pulled away from the beach. Although he knew it was fruitless, he tried to call Monette multiple times on the car trip home, to no avail. Arachne hollered at him several times to keep from rear-ending cars in front of him. But every few minutes, a vision of Monette distorted his perception, and it was impossible to focus.

  When they arrived at the apartment courtyard, Eshe dashed home to retrieve the compass.

  “This is tied to the tracking spell, and it will point you in the right direction. When you’re on top of them, it will spin.” Eshe handed the compass to Arachne.

  Just then, Leo collapsed to the ground in pain. The vision was as crisp as if he was in the room. He looked down and saw Monette’s body tied up, and then shifted his gaze around at their surroundings. Torchlight flickered from the center of a chamber lined with slimy gray stones. The creature was the size of a small bear, with a long, bald tail and moldy, matted fur. He turned to face them, and Monette shrieked. His teeth were jagged, his eyes milky white, and he wielded a dagger in his clawed hand. The demon cackled, his laugh piercing the damp air, and he hobbled toward Monette, raising the dagger to strike.

  Chapter 17

  “We need to hurry,” Leo gasped, sweat rolling down his brow. Arachne helped him up from the ground and peered at the compass.

  “It’s pointing northwest,” she said as they hopped back in his car. Leo punched it, swerving onto Orleans Avenue. Just as he weaved through traffic, Arachne coughed as blood spilled from a cut on her throat.

  “Arachne!” Leo slammed on the brakes.

  “No!” she croaked as blood dripped down her neck. “We’re fine. Keep going!”

  Leo picked up speed, peering over at Arachne every few seconds as he swerved around meandering cars.

  “The protection spell lends my strength to Monette. She will still feel pain and she will heal from injuries like this.”

  “But . . . ?” Leo prompted.

  “I can be killed, if the demon knows how to kill another demon, specifically me. And then Monette and I will both die.” Arachne swallowed hard. “Fuck, Leo. I want to be angry with you, because I didn’t realize at Beltane. But if you hadn’t transferred the spell to your sister, she would already be dead.”

  “Fuck.” Leo held back tears. He experienced glimpses of Monette’s fear and pain while Arachne bore all of her pain. He couldn’t let Monette die. He couldn’t let Arachne die . . .

  They followed the compass’ direction west onto City Park Avenue until they reached Metairie Cemetery and the compass arrow began to quiver.

  Arachne and Leo dumped the car on the side of greens and dashed out into the maze of mausoleums. They chased the arrow until it began to spin frantically.

  “She’s underground—how are we supposed to get to her?”

  Arachne glanced around at the tombs, then pointed to one of elaborate white stone with a gothic archway and wrought-iron door. Her neck was caked with dried blood. “This one is very old, and my instinct is it may lead to the old underground tunnel system. Saint-Germain and I used these tunnels for a long time to smuggle people, booze, whatever we needed.”

  Leo hesitated at the door. The sun was setting, and pinkish hues of twilight cast an ominous glow behind the ghostly mausoleum. Arachne snapped the iron locks in pieces and shoved the heavy door open.

  “This feels so wrong,” Leo muttered under his breath as he followed her inside.

  “Sorry.” Arachne put a hand to her ear. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of us saving your sister’s life.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Leo shoved his hands into his jean pockets. Arachne leaned over a dusty tapestry on the floor between the three marble coffins. She lifted it, revealing a trap door. Then she grasped the iron ring attached to the worn oak door and tugged hard. It creaked open, revealing a spiral staircase that led down into the depths of darkness.

  Arachne led the way. Leo pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight so he didn’t trip.

  “I forgot you can’t see in the dark.”

  “Yup, just my pathetic human eyes,” Leo grumbled.


  “Speaking of seeing. Can you describe the room they’re in?”

  “It’s round,” Leo explained. “The demon lit a torch and has a spread near the center of the room, like a shrine. Monette is tied up on one end . . .”

  They reached the bottom of the steps and stepped into a long, wide corridor. Arachne examined the compass, and it pointed to the right. They nodded and ran in that direction, turning down various blackened passageways until they noticed a low flickering light in the distance. They heard the demon’s voice, shrill and flustered, echoing down the stone passage.

  “You should have perished,” the demon hissed. “If you do not die, I cannot complete the ritual.”

  “What do you want with me?” Monette sobbed.

  “I can use your . . . delicious . . . blood, at least.” The demon seemed to ignore her. He made a grotesque licking noise. “But the ritual . . . you must die. Why aren’t you dying?”

  Monette’s screams deafened their ears. Arachne tripped and keeled over, holding her abdomen. Blood spurted out, and she cursed.

  “At least he’s incompetent,” Arachne whispered, taking Leo’s hand to stand. They continued to charge down the corridor to the opening of the chamber. Arachne put her hand up, and they waited for a beat. Monette’s sobs filled the tepid air, and the demon snarled in disgust.

  “Wretched girl,” he spat. “You are weak, yet you refuse to die.”

  Arachne stepped through the entrance to the chamber, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Hey, rat face!” she shouted. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

  The rat demon spun around, gripping his dagger. He lashed his tail in surprise.

  “My size?” He sneered. “You are but a pup.”

  “Your mistake.” She shrugged and then dashed forward. The rat demon swung at her with his dagger. She grasped his arm and, using his own energy, whirled him around and somersaulted him over her arm. He smacked hard on the stone floor and lay stunned for a moment. Then he roared in anger, trying to right himself. But Arachne held his wrist firm and pulled his gray arm back until he screamed in pain and dropped the dagger.

  “If you fucking move, I will rip your arm off,” she growled.