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

by Schuyler Windham

  She cooed in his ear. “I’m dedicated to you, too.”

  Chapter 22

  The months slipped by, and it was now several days from the blood moon ceremony. The sword and sceptre were still nowhere to be found, and Saint-Germain was in a tizzy with preparations for Arachne’s coronation. Leo was watching the news when Monette ran into the sitting room.

  “Hurricane Morrisey is swelling up into a category 5 storm,” a woman on the TV explained, showing a graphic of white clouds swirling ominously over the gulf. “The tropical cyclone is heading straight for New Orleans. NOAA recommends folks evacuate the city, and—”

  “Leo, look at this!” Monette held up an old, dusty book above her head. “I found it while cleaning out our parents’ attic.”

  “Mona, I’m trying to watch the weather,” Leo groaned.

  “A hurricane?” Monette faltered, glancing toward the TV. “But we can’t have clouds for the coronation.”

  “I know.” Leo frowned. “We also can’t be underwater.”

  “This is weird, though,” Monette insisted and then she called out, “Eshe? Where are you?”

  After a few moments, Eshe appeared in a flash with garlands of flowers draped over her body. “Yes?” she asked. “I’m trying to help Saint-Germain decorate . . . but . . . I can’t see . . .”

  Monette and Leo laughed as she blew the flower petals out of her eyes.

  “Mona found something weird she wants you to take a look at.”

  “Just a second,” Eshe said. She disappeared for a few moments more, and reappeared with her super speed without the garlands of flowers obscuring her vision. Monette held the book up, and Eshe motioned for them to join her in Saint-Germain’s study. Once there, they all peered curiously down at it as Monette dropped it on the desk.

  “It looked occult-ish, so I brought it here,” Monette grinned at it mischievously. “What is it?”

  “It’s a Grimoire.” Eshe examined it softly with her fingertips. “An ancient one.”

  “Like . . . a spellbook?” Monette wondered.

  Eshe nodded and flipped the book open to the last pages. “I have one just like it. This one is well-used.”

  “Why was it in my attic?”

  “See here?” Eshe traced her finger over a drawing with names etched into the branches of an elegant tree. “This is your family tree. You can follow it back for centuries. Your ancestors wrote down spells, remedies, and important family events . . .”

  “Our ancestors?” Leo and Monette exchanged a look.

  “But that isn’t our name.” Monette pursed her lips incredulously, pointing to the last name prominently displayed on the trunk of the tree. “Our mom’s maiden name is Beauchêne, not Adair.”

  “Looks like your grandmother’s maiden name was Adair.” Eshe referred to one of the branches. After their grandmother’s name, their mom’s name and their names were scribbled further down a tree branch. “She married and took the name Beauchêne. But witches inherit matriarchal surnames. Though your family name is your father’s, Gaumond, and your mother’s maiden name was Beauchêne, your witch surname is Adair.”

  “What . . . ?” Monette murmured, leaning on the desk for support.

  “It would make sense as to why you both can’t be compelled, your twin connection,” Eshe smiled whimsically. “You are witches.”

  “We aren’t witches.” Monette shook her head. “Wouldn’t someone tell us . . . Leo . . . ?”

  Leo gaped at the Grimoire. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  Eshe ignored them as she perused the Grimoire’s pages and her eyes lit up.

  “Your family line is intimately connected with the twin energy of summer and winter, sun and moon,” she said. “There is a spell here which could activate the relics! You two could be the key to the prophecy!”

  “We? Us?” Monette leaned over to examine the spell Eshe was referring to. “How?”

  Eshe put her finger to her lips in thought. Then she repeated the first few lines of the prophecy: “Two brothers, ravaged by war, Their hearts torn asunder for, The hand of their maiden fair, The key held only by heir . . . Your Grimoire has documented centuries of history. But what if these two brothers referenced are your very distant ancestors?”

  “Convenient, except we still don’t have all the relics,” Leo grumbled. “The locator spell failed, and of course the relics aren’t just going to fall out of the sky.”

  “What if Indy from Jerusalem knows more than we thought?” Monette speculated. “Was it wise to leave him there, since he obviously knew so much about the relics? He might know where they are!”

  “Hell, no! We’re not seeing that guy again.” Leo scowled. Monette smirked at him and then looked up with confusion as Saint-Germain barreled into the study.

  “What is with all the ruckus? I’m trying to set up the grand hall for the rehearsal and can’t concentrate over all this commotion!”

  Eshe beamed up at him and his faux anger faltered.

  “I found a spell we can use to activate the relics!”

  “Good job, my dear!” he chortled. “I knew you could do it!”

  “I don’t think anyone thought we could actually find a spell.” Eshe cocked her head to the side. “My attempts at developing a blessing on my own have been fruitless.”

  “Well, regardless!” Saint-Germain waved his hand like these thoughts were pointless. “Leo, you should go up to tend to Arachne. She is getting more morose by the day, concerned about the coronation and all that. Frankly, you were right all along with this crown business being more symbolic than anything. It does make guarding the crown all the more difficult, and Arachne will not be able to access its unique powers. Even still . . . ”

  “I’ve tried talking with her several times.” Leo shrugged. “She’s . . . not in the mood.”

  “Well, now, I don’t care,” Saint-Germain scoffed. “You shall do your duty as her beau and console her. Go on, now!” He shooed Leo toward the door. Leo sighed, throwing his hands up in the air, but complying. He trudged from the study, up the stairs, and down the hallway until he reached their room. He tentatively knocked on the door.

  “Come in!” Arachne called.

  He slowly opened and closed it behind him. Arachne stood in front of a full-length mirror, gazing intently at her reflection. She wore a long plum gown with gold and silver floral embellishments. Her rose gold hair was spun up into a bun and the crown rested on her temple, glowing stars hovering around the elegantly twisted metal.

  “It’s for the rehearsal,” she murmured.

  “Beautiful . . .” Leo smiled warmly at her.

  “I don’t like my hair.” She frowned.

  “Wear it however you want,” he said as he came up behind her, peering at her face in the mirror. “It’s your coronation. You can do what you want to.”

  She sighed and turned to face him.

  “You know this isn’t going so well.” She bit her lip. “I hoped we would have all the pieces together by now. It just seems like it was never meant to be.”

  “Hey, hey.” Leo put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “Nothing is ever going to be perfect. You fought hard to get to this point, so own it! Be proud!”

  “I can’t just feel that way.” She scowled. “I started down this path, and I can’t even finish properly.”

  “It’s a long journey. This isn’t even the half of it . . .” Leo began.

  “Oh, Leo.” she smiled weakly. “Your optimism is intoxicating . . . and insufferable. Can’t you just let me mope in peace?”

  Leo laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why?” she sighed into his shirt. “Why do you care so much? Why fight so hard?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Leo wondered. Did she really not see it?

  Arachne pulled back from his arms and peered up into his amber gold-flecked eyes. She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. His heart fluttered at the thought of telling her just how mu
ch he cared.

  “I care so much for you . . . I fight so damn hard for you . . . I’m dedicated to you . . . because I love you,” Leo said. “I love you, Arachne.”

  She stared up at him, speechless, blinking back tears in her eyes.

  “You were there for me when I needed you most, to help keep my family safe, to be my ray of sunshine when some days didn’t feel worth it. I’m here for you, when everything seems impossible and the future unclear. You are my friend. You are my muse. And . . . I love you,” Leo breathed. “All I know is that wherever we go from here, it will be all right because you’re by my side.”

  Arachne turned away and stared back at the mirror.

  “What did you see under the cedar tree?”

  “What?” Leo shook his head slowly, confused. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

  “When we were under the spell of the cedar tree, what did you see?”

  Leo took a few deep breaths, remembering back to the Tomb of the Fallen and how he wished the tree would have burned to the ground rather than just be crushed by falling debris.

  “I saw you and Monette . . .” he hesitated. “And a giant beast came from the woods. It killed you both, and I couldn’t stop it.”

  Arachne nodded as she listened, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she stared fiercely at her reflection.

  “You are a good person, Leo,” she said. “Your greatest fear is that you can’t control the fate of your loved ones, that they’ll be hurt no matter what you do, that you are powerless to help. For me, my greatest fear is myself. My true self, not the woman in the mirror I used to know, not the simple girl from Ionia. She looks human. But it’s a facade. The real me is a monster, just like the one which killed us in your vision.”

  “You aren’t a monster.” Leo frowned.

  “I am. I wouldn’t dream of showing you what I really look like. You asked me if I was a spider . . . I wish I were so innocent. I didn’t want to have sex with you at first, because I was ashamed of who I really was. You would never say you loved me if you saw my true form. You would be repulsed.” She sobbed, tears streaming from her eyes. “When we were trapped by the cedar tree’s curse, I saw this.” She pointed to the mirror.

  “I stood before a mirror just like this one underneath the tree. But in my reflection, I saw who I really was, who I have been running and hiding from for centuries. A monster. And I felt fear like I’d never felt before. That you would see me like this and hate me.”

  “Arachne . . .” Leo took a step toward her. “I could never hate you.”

  But she whirled around and stepped back.

  “You can’t comfort me,” she hissed. “This is my cross to bear. I alone goaded Athena. I hung myself in desperation, thinking it would help my father, but instead it broke his heart and cursed me for centuries. I forged the contract to become a demon. I’ve been running from my mistakes ever since. And the second—the second I try to fix those mistakes, everything comes crashing down around me!”

  “You’re not a failure,” Leo pressed. “You have to make mistakes to learn from them, to improve—”

  Wicked laughter escaped Arachne’s lips, punctuated by gasping sobs. She grasped her hands to her heart and shook her head, deliberating.

  “Just stop, Leo!” she snapped.

  He recoiled from the sharpness in her voice.

  “Why care so much? Why fight so hard? Why does it hurt so much?”

  Arachne pushed past Leo and glided to the door. She took one last look at him before pushing the door open and vanishing.

  Leo stood there for a few moments, his breath heavy in his chest, the weight of his emotion sinking into his shoulders. Finally, he shook it off.

  “Fuck.” He sprung for the door and ran down the hall.

  “Arachne!” he shouted through the halls of the mansion. He went through every open room, knocked on doors, searched fruitlessly. When Leo ran through the great hall, Saint-Germain flagged him down.

  “Oh, Leo! How did the conversation go? Well, I hope?”

  “No,” Leo sighed. “Bad. Terrible.”

  “Oh dear.” Saint-Germain crossed his arms over his chest. “I ask you to do one thing, Leo. And what do you do?”

  “I lost her.”

  “Of course!”

  “No—I mean she left. She ran.”

  “Ran!?” Saint-Germain sputtered. “How could you . . . ? Leo! We have a rehearsal in an hour, the coronation is in three days, and the Queen-to-be is missing? What a travesty you made of this ceremony!”

  Leo bolted toward the gardens. If Saint Germain didn’t know where Arachne was, it wasn’t worth listening to him. Saint-Germain yelled after him, but Leo couldn’t understand what he said and he didn’t care anyway. The gardens were vast. Leo ran among the rose hedges and magnolia trees, calling to Arachne. If she was there, she didn’t respond. Leo stopped near the fountain, panting.

  She could be anywhere in the city, Leo realized. She was immeasurably faster than he was. If she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be. So Leo meandered back to the Magnolia Mansion.

  “What happened, Leo?” Monette asked him as he headed back up to their room. Leo paused and stared into Monette’s stormy eyes.

  “Arachne is . . . struggling with her inner demons,” he explained. “But I know she’ll be all right. She’s resilient, and we’ll overcome this together.”

  Monette nodded. Leo continued up the stairs. Halfway up, Monette called to him with a determined expression on her face.

  “Don’t worry, brother . . . you’re her knight in shining armor!”

  He smiled weakly back down at Monette before trudging up the last few steps. When Arachne’s ready, she’ll come back, he decided. And I will be right here waiting for her.

  Outside the door to their bedroom, he heard shuffling from within. He wanted nothing more than to pull Arachne into an embrace and stroke her hair, murmuring in her ear that everything would be all right. Hope filled his heart and he pushed the door open.

  Chapter 23

  Keres stood in the middle of the bedroom, hovering over their small, round breakfast table between two plush armchairs facing a lowly lit fireplace. She had placed a bottle of dark wine on the table and poured two full glasses. He watched aghast as she sprinkled a purple powder into one of the glasses.

  “Keres!” he gasped. She jumped and whirled around.

  “Ah, it’s just you.” She let her shoulders slump and she glided toward him. He took a step back, preparing to run. But before he could take another step, Keres unclasped her ruby-encrusted amulet, dumped more of the purple powder in her hands, and blew it in his face.

  Leo coughed as Keres took his stubbled chin in her cool, marble fingers.

  “It was quite the conundrum.” She pursed her lips. “You can’t be compelled. But this”—she held up her amulet—“contains cursed, ground-up anemone blossoms. It weakens the victim to the users’ desires.”

  “W-why?” Leo coughed. “I thought we were . . .”

  “Because,” Keres cocked her head to the side, cutting him off. “Arachne deserves better. But more importantly, you are endangering her life, and I can’t let you do that.”

  Tears stung Leo’s eyes as he continued to hack up the purple dust. Keres stared into his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “You will hide in that armoire,” she nodded to the corner. “You will not make a sound. You will wait quietly and watch helplessly until I leave. Then and only then will you be freed from this compulsion.”

  Leo felt his body move without his consent. It was like his body was on autopilot. His brain had lost all control. He tried to speak, but couldn’t utter a word. He walked over to the armoire, opened the door, and stepped in. He peered through the slates in the door and watched as Keres smirked back at him before she finished dumping more purple powder into the wine glass.

  Keres and Leo waited for several more minutes before the door opened.

  “I saw you in the gardens. I
was on the roof, and I . . .” Arachne stumbled over her words as she stepped through the door. “Oh, Keres! I was expecting . . . well . . .”

  “. . . Leo?” Keres laughed darkly. “Oh, darling. I came up here to bring you a celebratory bottle of wine and he was on his way out. He said, well, I wouldn't dream of repeating it, but something dreadful about you before leaving. I don’t think he’s coming back.”

  “What?” Arachne’s shoulders slumped. “Is he that angry?”

  “Furious. Disappointed.”

  Arachne leaned on an armchair for support and blinked back tears.

  “I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “No, no, no!” Keres took Arachne’s hand and invited her to sit down. “It’s not your fault! He’s a foolish human. Don’t think twice about him.”

  Arachne sat down in the plush chair at the table, her face blank. Keres handed Arachne the glass of wine.

  “He told me he loved me . . .” Arachne cupped the wine glass in her hands. “I didn’t say it back. I couldn’t say it back, yet . . . but I . . .”

  Keres grimaced and shook her head. “Again, darling—don’t think twice about it! Drink your wine.” Arachne weakly smiled back at Keres for a second, before her lips slipped into a deep frown. She put the glass to her lips.

  No! Arachne! Leo struggled to move his limbs, to shout, anything. But his arms refused to move an inch, and no noise sprang from his throat. Leo couldn’t even betray his position with his heart, for it thumped softly and deeply in his chest like when he slept.

  “Whoops.” Arachne blushed. “We can’t drink until after we’ve toasted. Bad luck.”

  “To a bright future.” Keres raised her glass.

  “Ante, stin hygeia mas!” Arachne raised her glass too. Keres clinked her glass carefully to Arachne’s so not a drop spilled into one another's glass. Then they both took a long draw.

  “What is it, anyway? It seems so familiar . . .”

  “It is a black Mycenaean wine.” Keres showed Arachne the bottle. “Crafted in the old ways.”