Blood Moon's Fury: A Young Adult Fantasy Thriller (Curse of the Blood Moon Book 1)

by Leah Kingsley

  “Ash is higher than a kite! You think it’s a good idea to leave the girls alone with him?”

  “Jenkins, go help Ash guard our prisoners,” Nathan said as if the idea had been his.

  Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. But I’d stay away from cedar coffins and power tools if I were you.” Nathan gave him a dumbfounded look. Peter left without explaining.

  Alex jabbed the mage with the toe of his boot. “How about I stick Charles in the cellar?”

  Nathan brightened. “Sure. If we drug him, he might forget this ever happened.”

  Alex shook his head. He hated drugs. They twisted the mind into a confusing labyrinth of distorted reality. This made manipulating the users unpredictable and dangerous. “Charles is a Goody Two-shoes. I doubt anyone would believe he’d do drugs willingly. Let’s handle this like we always do. We’ll promise him a few days of peace and make sure he knows what’ll happen if he snitches.”

  “Whatever. You deal with it.” Nathan stumped back to the house.

  Alex dragged Charles through the mud and down into the cellar, letting his head clunk on every concrete stair as they descended. Charles wouldn’t wake for some time and when he did, the worthless mage would wish he had never been born.

  Twenty-five

  AMY GLOWERED ACROSS the living room at Ash as he pulled a needle from his pocket and filled a syringe with heroin. He was treating their abduction like a boring Tuesday afternoon. She looked away in disgust that melted into heartrending concern. Susan was sitting beside her on the floor, staring into space with anguish in her eyes. Amy’s stomach twisted with mingled trepidation and guilt. What horrors had her sister endured? Did she even want to know?

  Susan’s vacant expression morphed into a murderous mask of fury. “You didn’t stop him.” Her soft gray eyes blazed with hate. Amy recoiled, shock lancing through her at her sister’s transformation. Ash shifted uncomfortably beneath Susan’s unblinking gaze. “You should have stopped him!” she shrieked and lunged at Ash with the ferocity of a jungle cat. She pummeled him with her tiny fists and howled her rage through an unintelligible sob of hurt. Ash simply gazed at Amy over the top of Susan’s head as if her sister was a badly trained pet she ought to contain. Susan bared her teeth in a startlingly vicious snarl and doubled her wild assault.

  The wheels spun in Amy’s mind. She and Susan were no longer restrained, and Ash had put himself at a major disadvantage by taking those drugs. His reflexes would be slow, his mind in outer space. This was their best and only chance.

  Amy sprang at Ash and karate kicked him in the groin. He howled in pain as she shoved him to the floor and knelt on his skinny chest. She wrapped one hand around his neck and bashed his face with her other fist.

  “Amy, stop!” he shrieked, his eyes bulging. “He told me to help you.”

  “Let us go,” Amy said with a snarl, squeezing his throat in a death grip.

  “Go! Please!” His hazel eyes welled up.

  She grudgingly released him. He lapsed into a coughing fit and pressed a hand to his flushed face. He had a split lip and the start of a nasty black eye. Amy got to her feet and pushed Susan toward the door.

  “Amy, look.” Susan pointed with a trembling hand.

  Amy’s purse lay dumped in a dusty corner. She blinked in elated surprise, sure it hadn’t been there before. She dove for the pistol and trained her weapon on Ash’s chest. He froze. “If you follow us, I’ll shoot you.” Ash nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

  The girls raced out the door and tore down the flooded street, Amy clinging to her sister’s hand and dragging her headlong through the dark. Their sneakers pounded the pavement like the drumming of a giant heart. They ran until their breaths came in great, gasping gulps, each gust of autumn air a punch to their burning lungs.

  “Are you okay?” Amy panted as they stopped to catch their breath.

  “Fine.” Susan avoided meeting her eyes.

  “Did they hurt you?” Amy hugged her, but Susan kept her arms rigid at her sides.

  Her small hands squeezed into fists. “No.”

  Amy snatched her phone from her purse and dialed 911. Someone needed to help Charles, and Alex needed to be committed.

  A 2008 Tata Nano cruised up beside them. The driver’s side window rolled down, and for one heart-stopping moment, Amy saw Assassin’s Honor. She gripped Susan’s hand and slid the pistol from her purse. Instead of Alex or Johnson leering like psychopathic murderers, a middle-aged man gave them a friendly wave. “You girls lost?” His voice was gravelly like a dirt country road.

  “Yes!” Susan whimpered. “Some creepy guys are after us. They’re trying to hurt us. I want to go home!” Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “You’re being chased by someone who intends to harm you? You must call the police.”

  “I was about to.” Amy slipped the pistol back into her purse.

  The man tapped on his phone and put it to his ear. “I have two young girls here at the corner of Harris Avenue and James Street. They say they are being followed by a group of young thugs. I am going to get them to a safer location. No, ma’am, I will not bring them back to their house. Yes, I understand.” He made eye contact with Amy. “Where are these guys now?” he mouthed.

  “Three two three four Holly Tree Road,” Amy spat, hoping Assassin’s Honor spent the rest of their miserable lives in prison.

  The man repeated the address. “I’ll take them to twenty-two hundred Magnolia Crescent.” He thanked the dispatcher and set his phone aside. “Climb on in. You’re welcome to stay at my place until it’s safe for you to go home.”

  Amy stiffened. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She had trust issues on a good day. She and Susan were not going anywhere with a stranger on a night like this.

  Susan ignored her and climbed into the back seat. “Come on, Amy! He’s going to take us home!”

  “Sue, get out of that car.” Amy reached for her wrist. Susan jerked away as if she couldn’t bear to be touched. Amy’s unease grew. She followed through with her own 911 call. Her phone lasted for half a ring before its battery died.

  “I’m trying to help you.” The man looked heavenward as if praying for patience. “What will you do if those boys come back?”

  Amy frowned. He had a point. She had to get Susan out of there, and she had her pistol in case things went south. She would rather face one potentially dangerous stranger over four definitely dangerous gangsters.

  She climbed into the front seat and placed her purse on her lap to keep her pistol close at hand. The car stank of beer, but the man himself seemed sober. He was over six feet tall with the build of a wrestling champion. He had thick chestnut hair and deep-set eyes the color of a stormy sea. He wore work boots, faded black jeans, and a paint-splattered long-sleeved shirt. His expression was relaxed, but his big hands gripped the wheel with such force his knuckles had turned white. Was he angry? Nervous?

  The man drove them through the suburbs and turned into the driveway of a shabby, sketchy-looking house. Loud music blared from the home next door. A banner hung in its wide front window. It depicted a large, bloodred moon and the words Umbra Mortis. The Latin phrase sent a shiver down Amy’s spine.

  Their driver opened the garage and stepped hard on the gas. They shot forward, and he slammed on the brakes. Susan screamed. Amy’s purse flew out of her lap and landed with a thump on the floor.

  “What the hell?” She bent to retrieve her bag. The man dragged her from the car. “Get your hands off me!” She smashed her foot into his knee. Her ankle throbbed as if she had kicked a brick wall.

  “Now, now, stop struggling.” He twisted her arms behind her back and secured them with a thick, scratchy rope.

  “Susan, run!” Amy screamed. Her sister sat frozen in the back seat, her face white with fear and her eyes as round as saucers.

  Their abductor gave the rope a vicious jerk, and Amy fell onto her rear. He took care to tread on her fingers as he hauled Susan from the car.

  F
lames of fury burned her skin. “You’re insane. The police will be here any minute.”

  “You still believe that?” He laughed as he secured Susan’s wrists. “I only pretended to call the cops.”

  Amy clenched her jaw so hard her teeth threatened to crack. She was an idiot, dumber by far than the football jocks she mocked. Their captor dragged them into the house, towing them along as if they were lighter than air. Amy screamed as if she was already being murdered. The music from the block party drowned her cries. The man slammed and locked the inside door to the garage. Amy bowed her head beneath the weight of her despair. She and Susan had been taken prisoner for the second time that night.

  Amy peered around their new jail cell, another darkened living room. Rough, stained carpet covered the floor, fast-food wrappers and beer bottles decorated the coffee table, and thick, faded brown drapes veiled the windows. The muted TV offered the only light in the room.

  Amy threw her weight against the rope, hoping to unbalance their abductor. He jerked the rope to his chest, forced her to her knees, and followed up with a brutal kick to her gut.

  “Sit,” he ordered Susan. She dropped to her bottom. He tied them to the legs of the couch. “Stay.” He smiled to himself and left the room.

  Susan scooted close and huddled against Amy’s side. She was shaking from head to toe and her eyes were filled with tears.

  “It’ll all be okay. We’ll be fine, I promise.” She had no idea how she was going to keep her word.

  The stranger was talking on the phone in the next room. Amy eavesdropped on his side of the conversation. “Your incompetence is astounding. Do you have any idea what would have happened if they had gone to the police? Guess I’ll have to finish your dirty work myself.”

  Fear spiked, thick and hot, in her chest. Their abductor was linked to Assassin’s Honor. It all made a sickening amount of sense. He returned with a beer in hand and a leer on his unshaven face.

  Her hands balled into fists. “Who are you? You work for Alex?”

  He roared with laughter, making Susan jump. “That stupid kid? Hell no! Alex works for me.”

  “Who are you?” Amy repeated through clenched teeth. She needed his name for the police.

  “Oh, did I forget to introduce myself? My apologies.” He set aside his drink and untied her. She whirled, fists raised, and came face-to-face with the barrel of a .45. Her stomach dropped into her shoes. “Untie her.” The man pointed his gun at Susan. “March,” he said the second her ankles were free.

  He herded them through his dark, gloomy house and out into the dismal night. An icy November wind blew drops of drizzle into their faces. They tromped across the muddy yard to a large toolshed. A chill knifed through her. Was their abductor picking up where Alex had left off? The door swung shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.

  Amy blindly searched for a makeshift weapon. Her hand grazed a shelf, and she identified objects by touch. Wrenches, screwdrivers, a tape measure. She closed her fingers around a hammer.

  A spark of light caught her eye. Their captor had lit a candle. The flame cast eerie shadows across his bearded face and glinted off the cold metal of his gun. “Allow me to lend you some light.” He placed the candle on a narrow, rickety table and lifted a large plastic can from a nearby shelf. He splashed its contents onto the floor. Her heart skipped several beats as the unmistakable smell of gasoline filled her nostrils.

  “Well, ladies, it was nice knowing you.” He waved a hand in farewell and knocked the candle into the puddle of gasoline. Greedy flames leapt into the air and illuminated his speedy retreat. He had blocked the exit with a blazing wall of fire.

  “What do we do?” Susan said, her voice raw with fear.

  Amy gaped at the flames in paralytic horror as the fire consumed the wooden structure. They backed into a corner to escape the choking smoke. “Cover your face with your shirt,” Amy screamed over the roaring inferno. She crouched low to the ground and pulled Susan down with her.

  “I’m scared!” Susan wailed.

  Glass shattered nearby. Amy sprang to her feet on a jolt of hope. Her eyes widened in shock. A teenage girl was perched on the windowsill to her right. “Grab my hand!” she shouted.

  Amy herded Susan toward her. “Take a big breath and hold it until you’re outside.” She boosted her sister up to the sill. The girl helped her down and extended a hand to Amy. She struggled through the window and dropped to the ground with a flicker of stinging pain. Her shirt was torn, and a trickle of blood ran down her side. She had nicked a piece of glass. She skimmed her eyes over Susan and breathed a sigh of relief. Her sister looked okay.

  Amy gasped in a breath of much cleaner air and snatched up Susan’s hand. The shed creaked like it was about to topple over. Or explode. “Run!” the girl screeched. They took off as something inside blew up.

  “That was close,” Amy breathed as they watched the blaze from two houses down.

  The girl shoved thick raven hair out of her soot-streaked face. “Why were you locked in a burning shed?”

  “That’s a long story. It involves an insane phone call, a gang of lunatics, and a madman.” Amy chuckled. “We’ve had one hell of a night. Thanks for getting us out.”

  The girl waved away her gratitude. “I saw the smoke from two blocks down. I like playing the hero.”

  Amy lifted a brow. The tiny girl looked nothing like a hero with her elfin features and her vibrant, sapphire blue eyes. She seemed as fragile as a rose, and yet she had hauled them from a blazing shed. She was a total badass.

  “You two okay?”

  Amy nodded. “I’m fine.” Susan tried to answer and lapsed into a coughing fit. Amy slipped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her sister’s back. “We need a safe place to crash. Going home is not an option.”

  “You’re welcome to stay with me. I live just down the street. You both need water, a shower, and a nice long nap.” She held her nose but softened the gesture with a smile.

  A strange sensation drifted over Amy. She felt overwhelmingly tired and unusually calm. Distant alarm bells rang in her mind. They were swiftly silenced and swept away on a sparkling river of tranquility. “That sounds awesome. But my purse is in that dude’s car. I need it back.”

  “Sure thing.” The girl’s eyes twinkled with mischief. She passed Amy a flashlight trimmed with a glass breaker.

  “Cool!” Amy grinned. She sprinted to the Tata Nano and smashed the passenger side window. She snatched her purse, drew the pistol, and marched into the house. Their abductor had passed out on his vinyl couch with an empty beer bottle in his hand.

  “Whoa, wait, what are you doing?” The girl rushed after her with her arm wrapped around a stumbling Susan, guiding her. “If you shoot him, you’ll go to prison too.”

  Amy narrowed her eyes. “Dead men never get to prison. They go straight to hell.” But the girl did have a point. Zack was not allowed to be right about that prison-issue orange uniform. She snatched the empty beer bottle and smashed it over their abductor’s head.

  “I like your style.” The girl smiled appreciatively. “By the way, pardon my manners and let me introduce myself. My friends call me The Dark.”

  “Weird name.” She and Susan followed her outside.

  “Everyone says that.” The corners of her mouth twitched.

  The dark girl led them down the street to a cozy one-bedroom apartment. The place was tastefully decorated in soft pastels that complemented the rich maple brown of its hardwood floors. Its spacious kitchen sported stainless steel appliances, and the living room furniture was upholstered in cream-colored silk. Satin throw pillows lined the armchairs, couch, and ottoman, and a massive sheepskin rug lay in front of a miniature woodstove. A single framed photograph hung on the living room’s pale blue wall. A boy and girl of about sixteen stood atop a snowy mountain, holding hands as they beamed at the camera. The boy had dark red hair and melt-your-heart caramel eyes. The girl in the photo was The Dark.

  “That your b
oyfriend?” Amy took a stab at conversation. “He’s cute.”

  A jolt of pain rippled across The Dark’s pretty face. “No.” Her tone barred all further questions.

  The girls each took a turn in her wonderfully hot shower, while The Dark whipped up a snack of cookies and hot chocolate. The drink was warm and comforting and made it hard for Amy to think. She sank deeper and deeper into a soothing ocean of calm. The tranquil sea cradled her in a cocoon of gentle warmth and swept all her doubts away. The girls soon fell asleep on The Dark’s silk ottoman.

  One last worry niggled at the back of Amy’s mind. She was supposed to be helping someone. A fuzzy image of a boy with pretty eyes and strawberry blond hair floated in and out of focus.

  She woke to an angry shout from the other side of The Dark’s front door. “Found you. Come out and play.” She recognized Alex’s glacial glee. Panic ripped through her like a jolt of electricity. She fumbled for her pistol.

  The Dark hefted a shotgun. “Go back to sleep. I’ll deal with these pests.”

  Twenty-six

  PETER STORMED FROM the shed with a dull throbbing in his head. There was nothing more he could do for Charles. At least Susan and Amy ought to be free by now. Peter had ordered Ash to help get them out. As long as Ash listened to him, which he usually did, the police might find Charles before things got bad. And if he, Peter, got arrested in the process? He shrugged. Alex had escalated this thing with Amy way further than it needed to go, and the rest of them had sat back and allowed it. His stomach roiled at what had happened to Susan. The little girl was going to be scarred for life, and it was one-fourth his fault. He clenched his jaw against a burst of blinding self-hatred. He ought to have pushed harder to stay with the kid. He deserved whatever punishment came his way.

  Peter opened the shack’s door to total destruction. Ash was sitting on the floor, propped against the wall with a hand pressed to his left eye. A nasty bruise marred his cheek, and his lower lip dripped blood onto the dirty shag carpet.