Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  He’d topped the tank of his truck, and back on the interstate, looked for the Demon. She wouldn’t be too far behind Jeff and Heather. Her matte midnight blue Demon was a little hard to miss in the daylight, impossible to see at night, even under a full moon. Luckily, it was only late afternoon.

  Without thinking, he passed the Fiat, when he saw Iroida’s car, cruising along at seventy-two miles per hour. As he looked in his rear-view mirror, he stared. The ones they chased were behind them? Blinking, he indicated pulling to the side of the road, and hit a button to fake overheating. It was a cheap trick, but one that’d worked in the past.

  As he pulled to the shoulder, the target passed. Waiting on the side of the road, he dialed Iroida. She threw him into voicemail.

  He was getting the feeling she’d played him.

  Who was he kidding, she’d won that little pissing match. And he didn’t even know they were playing. “Well done,” he chuckled. It’d been a long time since a woman had blind-sided him and won. Smile widening, “This is going to be a lot of fun.”

  He called dispatch at Iudex.

  “Log in.”

  “Boone Copper, four-nine-eight-three. Assignment – Heather Pomorski. Check in.”

  “Hey, Cop, what’s up? You bringing her in?” Marcus’s tone changed.

  “On I-70 heading east. Praesidio in pursuit as well. Veritatis has the assignment. Fiat 500, Colorado tag number 8-5-2, Delta-November-Zulu, powder blue, two door, long key scratch on the passenger side. Driver is one Jeffrey Andrew Ferrin.”

  “How the hell did you get all that intel? This is your first check-in.” Boone could hear Marcus murdering the keys on a keyboard. He was fast, but he hit the keys so hard they went through keyboards like a puppy with rawhides.

  “I said the Praesidio was also in pursuit. A tall brunette who calls herself Iroida.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but even he caught the hitch as he said her name. Marcus would pick it up.

  “I’ll try to get information. Any ideas as to region?” More pounding on delicate plastic keys.

  “Appears Mediterranean, but accent is old school Roman.” He had the feeling she could remember Caesar. It made him wonder who her parents were.

  “I’ll text you any information I find. Could it be Roman, or Spartan?” Marcus asked.

  “That’s a big age difference, but maybe? I haven’t heard a Spartan accent since 1903.” The old warrior had allowed a slip of a woman to take his head off. Boone understood.

  “Not really. Forget your history, Boone? Did she have any tats?” Marcus sounded a little far from the mic, making Boone think he was looking in his library. While Marcus was a computer genius, he still kept a library of books even the most discriminating bibliophile would drool over.

  “On the inside of her left wrist. Broken circle, bow, and cup.” He needed at least two more minutes. By waiting, he was letting Iroida believe she’d won, and Jeff lose any anxiety of his being close.

  “Bow in the cup, or as the stem?” The sound of pages flipping.

  “Neither.” Boone wasn’t sure how to describe it. The circle was broken, but one end flowed into the bow pointing up, and becoming the cup, or the bottom half of a circle. “Wait, instead of cup, put in the bottom half of a circle, though I can’t remember what it’s called.”

  “A semi-circle.” Marcus chuckled on the other end, and Boone flipped him off. “I don’t have to see you to know you’re giving me the New York State Bird, asshat.”

  Boone laughed aloud. “You owe me a beer. Meantime, we already know she is Praesidio, and after Heather. I have to get to her first.”

  “Let me look around. Now, get off the side of the freeway, and follow. Grab Heather at the first opp, we need her back here. The elders are insistent she doesn’t go anywhere else.” The line went dead, and his cell phone reverted to the home page.

  Boone knew what the elders wanted. He just no longer questioned it. He’d seen too much in a couple of centuries. He may not like all their methods, but he didn’t want the Praesidio to have the powerful humans either.

  Easing onto the freeway, he looked for the two vehicles. Marcus would come up with why the target was taking the asset into Kansas. He suspected Topeka.

  Behind the Fiat again, he noted Heather struggling. Her movements were sluggish, and his temper flared as Jeff punched her. She slumped and moved out of view.

  Boone thought Jeff believed he was safe, especially to hit Heather in full view of people around him.

  His temper flared, setting off the secondary ability. The one he kept under lock and key, the reason he kept his temper under tight control. The very reason the Iudex recruited him. While the tracking ability had seen him through many a lean winter, and helped find lost assets, it wasn’t what the Iudex had wanted, or even needed.

  He didn’t turn green and grow to four times his normal size. No. Instead he simply became a seething ball of rage, with the strength, speed, and killing ability of the very demi-god he was directly descended from.

  Boone tried, using every tactic he possessed. He didn’t like the secondary ability, or after-effects, or the hangover. It usually ended in destruction, and news crews.

  He’d almost had it. The hum of anger was leaving. And Jeff pulled Heather close, using his grip on her thick hair. She didn’t fight, and Boone suspected she was unconscious. Jeff licked her.

  Boone remembered nothing after that.

  Chapter Six

  Iroida

  The Demon purred along the highway, a sedate seventy-two miles an hour, the interstate straight, the sun dipping in the west. She checked the rear view often, seeing the Fiat and Jeff behind the wheel, Boone behind them. When he’d pulled off, she’d kept going. But he’d caught up, calm and slow. Jeff had barely looked in his mirrors.

  She didn’t know what set off Boone, but she watched in slack jawed awe.

  His truck jumped forward, the engine screaming so loud she could hear it even in front of the Fiat. He slammed into the back of the tiny car, sending it flipping into the wide median. She pulled off, jumping out of the Demon the moment she could safely put it in park. Running for the steaming, crumpled Fiat, hoping Heather was still in one piece.

  Jeff crawled out of the wreckage, and Boone was on top of him, his fists flying until blood was falling in dark red arcs over both men. Iroida ignored it, diving for the passenger side’s shattered window. The sound of fists hitting flesh continued on the other side of the car, and she peeked inside the twisted metal to find Heather had been belted in and hung from the seat belt.

  She dug for the pocket knife always in her boot, and as she opened it, she noted the noise of Boone wailing on Jeff had stopped. She cut through the last of the seat belt, and carefully guided Heather to the ground. Her neck wasn’t broken, and as she went to pull the young woman away from the wreckage, hands landed on her shoulders.

  “You’re beautiful, but that’s my asset. Back off.” She was bodily lifted and slung close to her car. She landed and rolled. Sitting up, she watched as Boone took Heather, eased her in to the truck, and glared at Iroida as he jumped in the driver’s side. The truck roared, and Boone left.

  Iroida could only watch. Going after him wasn’t prudent. She’d seen his eyes. Under normal circumstances they were a deep blue, reminding her of the Pacific Ocean. But as he’d beat the living hell out of Jeff, and had taken Heather, they were a dark reddish brown, the color of some of the Roman gods she’d always detested because of their arrogance, ego, and conceit.

  Boone had channeled his inner demi-god, and she knew the results, had seen it in many battles of history. The Vikings had called them Berserkers. Boone had the mixed power of Roman deity and Viking Berserker. She had no doubt that set off, he’d be harder than hell to beat in a fight.

  Damn it. She’d have to be more careful when tweaking his nose.

  The memory of his tossing her aside flashed. He hadn’t hurt her, had, in fact, been careful with his handling of her. Tossing her across the
median didn’t bother her a bit. She’d have happily broken his bones. He could have damaged her to the point she was no longer able to carry out her duty.

  She saw her advantage in the one action.

  Boone wouldn’t cause her permanent, or lasting, harm.

  Smiling, she scrambled to her feet, and noted Jeff not far from the Fiat, his features indistinguishable. His chest rose and fell, so he likely would live. Veritatis would make sure he survived.

  Jumping in the Demon, she navigated off the median, and followed the big truck. He’d be far ahead, and she was okay with that. Calling Regiis, she gave instructions. He could be followed via satellite. Granted Regiis would have to hijack it without being caught, but it wasn’t the first time.

  She noted his speed, and hoped he wasn’t endangering Heather. His rage would wear off soon, and he’d be weak, exhausted, in need of a lot of carbs and starches. He’d have to pull off the interstate, find a hotel, and a restaurant. If she remembered the map correctly, there was a small town an hour ahead. If he could last until then, he’d have a good chance of making it to a hotel for rest and food.

  She held back, not wanting him to know she followed. There was plenty of time to grab Heather. It was just a matter of patience.

  As the miles passed, she wondered how Heather was doing. If the power surges earlier were any indication, she was also exhausted with shakes, fever, and weird hallucinations. She’d been unconscious, and Iroida had seen the bruise on the jawline. She was certain she knew what happened. The Veritatis were self-righteous hypocrites.

  They wanted the power of the supernatural, but only to be controlled by mortals. They’d throw a spanner in the works many times, trying to kidnap and use the innocent. They were the ones who’d gone after them in Salem, though they’d been more successful in Europe where superstitions ran deep. She could name centuries their reign of terror was seen in both mortal and immortal worlds.

  But as the old gods fell out of favor, and the humans with power scattered to the four winds, they were driven underground. The Praesidio and the Iudex forgotten in time. Veritatis didn’t give up, however. They continued to hunt the innocents, killing them, or in some cases, trying to create a breeding program. She’d seen the results of those, of the women who’d been “chosen” and raped repeatedly. Iroida shuddered at the thought. She’d take one hundred Boones over one Veritatis.

  The phone vibrated, and she tapped the answer button. “Well?”

  “You know, you could call me sometimes, and say, ‘Regiis! Listen you –“ the forever young and husky voice started.

  “I could, but I didn’t today. Can I try tomorrow?” Iroida let the annoyance thread through the words.

  “You know, as the oldest, you could try to be nicer to the younger ones. We’re going to be the ones to smuggle in the tequila you love so much into the Senile Senior Immortals Home.” The sounds of tapping on a keyboard echoed in the background.

  “You have a point, but I want promises of Oreos.” She noted Boone’s truck in the distance, topping a small hill before disappearing.

  “I’ll even find the chocolate covered strawberry you love for some favoritism,” Regiis chuckled.

  “Deal. But at least weekly. Any ideas?”

  “Yeah. There’s a town in forty minutes, with everything he’ll need after losing. Plus, I’m certain Iudex has a doctor on call nearby. You just have to follow for now. I’ll call with updates, stay back, you’re getting too close.” The line went dead.

  Iroida grinned. Regiis was her favorite. The youngest of all the Guardians, she was perpetually twenty-five, genius, and hilarious to be around. But Iroida knew what she hid with all of that – her fear of being left behind, of not mattering in the end.

  She followed instructions and let off the accelerator.

  Chapter Seven

  Boone

  The world came into focus by small increments. It was blurry and shaky, yet it slowly came into focus. He was doing well over a hundred, and he eased off the accelerator. The truck wasn’t meant to speed for long. It was a draft horse, not a thoroughbred.

  He glanced at Heather, and she was unconscious, but her color was returning. Returning his focus to the road, he felt the exhaustion creep ever closer. His stomach growled, his head getting fuzzier. It was the Berserker Hangover. It’d take a day to recover, though he wished it would only take a few hours.

  Time slowed, and he noted the signs for the town less than an hour away. Through sheer will, he managed to get to the exit, and found a Motel 6 just off the interstate. Everything felt as if he was fighting mud, sounds muted, sight going to black and white. He needed sleep, then would need carbs and starch. He didn’t feel like he’d done too much, there’d been days when he was purple head to toe, every muscle hurting, and a few broken bones. This was mild in comparison.

  Checking them in, he eased Heather out of the truck, and into the room. He’d called for backup, because the moment he hit the bed, he wouldn’t be able to protect her. She rolled to the side with a soft moan, and a tension he hadn’t noticed vanished. She was going to wake up with a horrible headache. But at least she was no longer just unconscious.

  Kicking off his shoes, he sat on the bed, not sure if he’d locked his stuff up, if the truck was secure. Where Iroida was. His body listed to the side, and a complete surrender to the darkness.

  Boone woke, systems coming online in slow increments. First, he could hear, a kind of buzzing in the background, followed by speech. The sensation of weight on his legs next, and he tried to move them. The weight shifted, and he noted that everything slid across his skin. He was naked. The room was cold. The voice was female.

  “About time you woke up, Boone. I should have left you, but I can’t leave you vulnerable like that.” Iroida’s husky voice rang clear.

  He fought, and one eyelid lifted. The world was a burst of color and light.

  “There you are! The one eye is blue again, so I’m betting you’re back to normal. Good. I’ll be taking Heather now, you’re safe. Grabbed all your gear and brought it in. I locked up the truck and took care of tracking you here. Best of luck, handsome!” She waved a cheery goodbye and slipped out the door.

  Boone tried to follow, but the moment his feet hit the floor, dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him. “Don’t you dare, Iroida! Get back here!” He tried to yell, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

  As he fought to straighten, he heard her car, listened as it rumbled out of the parking lot and was gone. Several words came to mind, none his grandmother would have allowed.

  He didn’t know how long, but his door opened, and Marcus walked in.

  “Damn, Boone, you look like overcooked Cajun.” Marcus was taller than Boone by an inch, and far younger at thirty-six. It would be another year before he was ready for his first assignment.

  “I feel like I was put into a blender.” He blinked, trying to focus. “Going Berserk does that.” Rubbing his face, he tried to put two thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Guardian, matte midnight blue Demon, has asset.”

  Marcus nodded twice and left.

  Boone needed sleep, but he had to retrieve Heather from Iroida. Marcus wouldn’t know the Iroida was a hunter, or that she and Boone had a kind of treaty at the moment. Iudex and the Praesidio did cross paths occasionally, usually when an asset crossed the lines drawn for each society.

  Heather’s power meant everyone would be after her. To either bind the ability and let her live out her life, to take her and disappear, or in the case of Veritatis, to use her and then dispose of the body.

  Legs weak, he stood, swaying, and fell to the bed. Damn it. Taking a deep breath, he tried a second time. Feet shoulder width apart, calves against the mattresses, he steeled himself against another fall.

  He needed to get to Iroida before Marcus. Marcus would try to destroy her, and he couldn’t allow that. For whatever reason, he didn’t want her harmed. Or Marcus. It could go either way. Iroida was able to take care of herself, but she mi
ght not be a match for Marcus’s speed.

  The world steadied, and he took a step, followed by another, and soon he was taking a hot shower, letting the pressure help him come out of the mental fog. He needed to hurry. But he couldn’t move any faster.

  Twenty minutes later, he was in his truck, fingers trying to turn the key in the ignition. They were clumsy and weak. Closing his eyes, he counted to twenty, cursing between the numbers. Trying again, he was able to get the truck to rumble to a start.

  Rubbing a hand down his face, he eased it into reverse, and got out of the parking space. As he tried to put it into drive, unconsciousness flirted around the edges. He’d only had two hours sleep, and his body could not do it. He was a danger to himself and others. His iron will couldn’t make his recovery any faster.

  Pulling into the space, he parked, turned off the truck, got out and stumbled into his room. Finding his phone, he tapped a message to Marcus, stripped and fell back into bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Iroida

  Heather woke and turned her head to Iroida. “Where…?”

  Iroida smiled, “Safe from the man who kidnapped you. I’m taking you someplace you’ll be well cared for and out of their reach.” She tried to keep her voice light, as she fought against the power roiling off the young woman. She was more than they’d assumed. Iroida could see the edges of reality, a stray strand of time line here and there, coming unraveled. She wasn’t trained, had no idea what to do. “How do you feel?”

  “Like, like I can’t see the truth of it.” Her head lolled to the right, and she stared out the window. “As if something is off, but I can’t see what.”

  “Considering everything you’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours, I’m not surprised. What I’d like right now, though, Heather, is for you to close your eyes and listen to my voice.” Iroida knew what to do, they were all trained. She only hoped it worked.