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

by Nicole Morgan

  She watched him leave, the words sinking in. Mextli had admitted to other daughters, older sisters. Not just the one she remembered. And that Nasi had banished all of them.

  It was to be remembered for later. Limping quickly to her apartment, she pulled out the suitcases and packed. If Mextli said he was giving Boone to her, she had to be ready. And she was taking one of the Jeeps. A good SUV, and plenty of cash.

  Stuffing it all into a military style duffel bag, two suitcases, grabbing her stashes, several well-padded cases of electronics, two satellite phones, a laptop, and six first aid kits. She wasn’t going to be able to call on Mom and Dad for rescue unless she had Heather.

  Twenty minutes later, power rippled through Showtime, and she shuddered. A car screeched around a corner, brakes squealed, and her father’s Audi skid to a sideways halt, the passenger door opened, and Boone pushed out. He rolled several feet, bloody but breathing.

  Putting the Cherokee into gear, she drove next to him, got out, popped the back door, and lifted him gently inside. He moaned, and she thought her name was whispered. “It’s okay, Boone. You’re officially mine. We’re getting out of here. Just hang in there.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead, tasting sweat and blood, and the ancient power of her parents. He’d gotten caught in the middle of their starter fight. She laid a stone on his stomach, eased the gate shut, and rand for the front of the vehicle. Her mother’s goons would be around in a few moments.

  She left, easing out as if nothing was happening. She’d turned left and before the building blocked her view, saw several vehicles speed into the parking lot.

  Weaving through the streets to remain hidden, she approached the barrier. Stopping two blocks back, she could see it was guarded. They were waiting for her. But she’d lived in Showtime for several decades, since John Wayne had filmed in the area.

  Turning into an alley, she cut the engine, and crawled over the seats to Boone. The stone did its job, and he was healing. It couldn’t help more than abrasions, bruises, and cuts, but the small stone was a wonderful gift from Airmed had come in handy many times.

  Boone’s eyes opened, and she shook her head when he looked about to say something. She leaned close until her mouth was on his ear. Remembering her training, “Remain calm and quiet. Thpeak no wordth. Itth going to be bumpy. I won’t allow anything to happen to you.” She’d replaced all “s” sounds with “th.” Her mother’s men could pick up that small noise no matter how she whispered in his ear.

  He nodded, closed his eyes, and she noted he went still.

  She scrambled into the front seat, waiting. She pushed a button at the top of the dash. The sounds of a wheel filled the air for a few seconds, and then all was quiet. She smiled. Tapping the start button, the electric engine came online, allowing her to move the big vehicle with as little noise as possible. She’d done the conversion a couple of years earlier, and the ancient Jeep Cherokee had been perfect for it. It looked like it’d rolled off the sales lot, but nobody knew the truth of the two engines that drove it.

  Staying in the alleyways, she drove to the east side of the town, and an old set of tracks built for the wagons of the movie. She and her sisters had played on them during good weather, and often in bad. It was growing over, but with it being as far north as they were, it was slow to happen.

  Turning into a corner alley, she stopped, backed the Jeep against a wall and turned it off. She crawled into the back, “Boone, can you move now?”

  “Yeah, slowly,” he moaned, and she got an arm under him. She didn’t dare go four wheeling through the forest without him strapped to a seat.

  It took a few moments, but she got him in, and pleased she’d put in the five-point restraint system. Turning on the combustion engine, she pulled the lever to put it into four-wheel drive. She left it in low, not knowing how the trail had fared over the past decade or longer.

  “Don’t do this for me. Don’t walk away from your family, Iroida.” He eased a hand to cover her forearm. “Family is everything.”

  She glanced over, staring at his bruised face, the eyes sincere in their worry for her. “Too late. You are my family. Deal with it.” She gave one nod, and put the truck into gear. “Hang on, Gimpy. It’s gonna get really bumpy.” She eased forward, poking the nose out into the street and looking for any of the signature red SUVs.

  Seeing none of them, she shot across the street, behind a building and crossed the threshold. The Jeep’s tires gripped the ground as they left concrete, and she pushed as fast as she dared through the darkening threes. There were a few other tricks up her sleeve, she just had to get away from the protective dome that covered Showtime, keeping it from being seen by satellites, cameras, or others in general.

  She followed the trail, concentrating, finding her way, and turning on the fog lamps at the bottom of the front bumper. They were focused on the trail, and she eased her way through the trees. Her peripheral vision picked up the movements of animals, but as long as they stayed away, it was fine.

  The front dipped low and the Jeep bounced as she came out of a dip. Likely from melted snow runoff. Boone groaned, and she winced. She put a hand on his forearm and offered a gentle squeeze.

  Concentrating on getting them through the forest, her eyes caught the sight of a light behind them. “Shit. Boone, hang on, it’s going to get worse. I’m so sorry.” She glanced in the rearview mirror and tried to remember the branch of trail that led in a full circle. It’d been great for riding her dirt bike in the seventies.

  A familiar rock appeared, and she grinned, turning off the fog lamps. Counting to three, she jerked the wheel to the left, and didn’t touch the brakes. The spare light from inside the cabin showed she’d barely missed a big pine tree, but her memory had been good. She drove the trail, letting her memory and the feel of the trail guide them. Though there were several close calls, she watched for the following headlights. Nothing. She’d done something unexpected and that was more than enough. Thankful, she popped the fog lamps on, and concentrating, she grunted when a wolf jumped in front of the Jeep.

  The eyes of the animal glowed a bright yellow, and Iroida sighed. Popping the gear into park, she turned off the engine.

  “What?” Boone tried to sit up, but she placed a hand on his arm, and held him.

  “We have a visitor. This could go okay, or very, very badly.” Her voice shook.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Boone

  Boone hid his reaction. Her voice shook as she whispered in the dark vehicle, and he felt the tremors from the hand on his arm. Whomever was in front of the small SUV scared her pretty badly. And it woke up the rage.

  If he let it loose right now, it’d be months before he fully recovered. Meaning it would remain dominant until he was ready. It wasn’t a good thing.

  “Stay in here. Don’t follow unless I signal for you to join me, understand?” she whispered.

  “Yeah. But I’m watching.” Her slow nod meant she understood the thin thread he held the rage in check.

  She eased out of the vehicle and took measured steps. He could see the huge paws of the creature, bigger than his head. Likely it stood more than six foot tall. He followed the long legs and found the creature’s eyes on him.

  Fear shook him hard, and the ability responded. He closed both eyes, trying to keep under control. Opening both eyes in a slow motion, he watched in the lights of the fog lamps. She watched her feet, shuffling to the front of the Jeep, hands showing, doing nothing to convey aggression. The wolf watched him, and Boone couldn’t help it, he met the stare, and an unfamiliar emotion slashed across his chest. A kinship with the creature. As if they were related, and somehow the same.

  Iroida stood before the hulking animal, her head reaching the top of its shoulder. He could see her speak, and the great head shook. The fur, black as a moonless night in the forest, waved, and Boone didn’t realize he’d stepped out of the vehicle, taking several steps forward until halting.

  How the hell…?

 
“Come to me, Descendant.” The speech was slurred but understood.

  “Wait, Fenrir, he is not a part of my parents’ …” she started.

  “Hush, Guardian. I am speaking to the Descendent.” He turned and put his nose to her forehead. “He is safe with me, but you must return to your vehicle. Now. This is not for you.” The huge wolf headbutted her shoulder and she fell back, barely catching herself in time.

  “Please, he is mine.” Her voice filled with fear, she put a hand on his shoulder, head down.

  “I know this, Guardian. No harm will come to your man. Go now.”

  She nodded, backed away to the front of the Jeep, and moved sideways to the vehicle before getting in.

  “I am Fenrir, son of Loki, grandson of Odin. I am the bringer of Ragnarok, the prophesied killer of Odin, and the godfather of this particular Guardian, though she does not know it.” His ears were forward, his face close.

  Boone’s inner rage dissipated, leaving only his true calm, laid back nature. “Why are you talking to me? I won’t harm her. I’ll die to ensure her safety.”

  “She is yours as you are hers. It called out to me. There is something you need to know, something Nasi doesn’t want spread, for it will cause great harm to the Praesidio.”

  Boone frowned, “What do you mean?”

  “There is a secret Nasi and Mextli wanted hidden, one that used to be common knowledge but is now nothing more than far flung rumor. You see, Descendant, Iroida is not the oldest, she is the youngest of the first daughters. If you wish to know more, kneel and give me your oath to never repeat my next information.” His eyes turned from bright polished gold to a dark red.

  He was asking for a binding oath, one he’d refused to give Iudex, and carried severe consequences for breaking. He’d broken one once, lifetimes ago. He’d paid for it.

  The rage spoke to him, pushing him to kneel before Loki, to give the oath. He followed the instructions, and fell to one knee, shuddering at the pain of it. A forearm braced against the knee, he did the Knight’s Pose, and repeated the oath in Latin, “Ego Boone Cuprea novum emittere iusiurandum, et non declinabunt a semitis meis verbum enim mors est poena. Et dixit ad me omnes qui manet in me et inter Loki. Promissa et data est.”

  Fenrir nodded once. “Your love will harm her, or it will empower her. It is up to you to decide which. If any Guardian gives physical intimacy to another, she will lose her immortality, it will be the deepest agony, and will not be given back, even by the gods. It is irreversible. And the first intimacy always results in a child, and that child will be on the radar for Iroida’s parents. For it will be Praesidio from the moment of conception.”

  Boone rocked, the news a shock.

  How did Iroida not know? He cast her a shocked glance, and she frowned.

  “Descendant, you are forbidden from telling her.”

  “Surely she has the right to make the choice!” He stood, hating the very oath he’d just given.

  “No. It must be made without the knowledge. Nasi and Mextli knew this when creating their daughters. It is why they don’t want any of them to learn. But that is a war you must allow the women to decide to battle.”

  Boone stood, hands on hips, and stared at the ground. He listened, and heard nothing coming their way, only the sounds of the forest at night, creatures stirring in the cold, hunting for food or shelter.

  “I am bound by oath to never tell them, as are you. But you, Boone Copper, are a resourceful Descendent, and I am glad she has chosen you.” Fenrir lifted his heavy head, nose pointing at the stars, and released the howl of wolves the world over. Several responded, the sound haunting, beautiful.

  Boone felt it to his bones, vibrating along his spine. It woke the ability, which made a similar noise deep in his head and heart.

  Fenrir stopped and backed away, turning to leave. He stopped, and his head faced Boone, “You are of Remus and Romulus, but who do you think they are descended of? We all have our own ancestors, ones who could create gods. You and I are cousins. Remember this.” He faced the darkness, and loped off, the shadows swallowing his form.

  Boone stood in the small pool of light from the fog lamps, the information causing a tornado in his head, making it hard to think.

  Did he love Iroida? Maybe. She was important to him, he knew that. And he couldn’t take her immortality without her express consent. No matter how much he wanted inside of her, to feel her passion surrounding him, to be the reason for it.

  But there was a loophole for everything. Keeping information from women was never a good idea. Not if a man wanted to keep important parts of his anatomy.

  Shuffling to the vehicle, he slid in, and noted he no longer hurt as much. Frowning, he pushed all the places that had taken the brunt of the abuse by Nasi. Only two were touch sensitive.

  “Fenrir’s howl was to heal you more than to notify other wolves of his presence.” Iroida sat in the driver’s seat, her hands in her lap, staring ahead. “I’m fully healed now, and you will be in about ten minutes. It’s a gift he rarely offers, but it’s fabulous when he does. He healed me after a battle once. I seem to be his favorite.” She shook her head. “I’m babbling.”

  Boone took her hand. “No, you’re not. He’s fearsome, and a god at full power. I know not to mess with them, for I’d be dog chow at a look.”

  Iroida chuckled. “What oath did he request?”

  Boone looked out the window, “One I in which I promised not to speak of to you.”

  “One of those. Got it. Not sure if I like that or not, but let’s simply survive for now. I know of a hidey hole in the forest, an old one we can take advantage of.” She started the electronic engine and put it in drive.

  She took the trail in slow motion, and he noted the way she moved. She was lost in her head. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  It was a surprise how much that bothered him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Iroida

  Iroida drove on autopilot. The small shack she was heading for lay another four miles west, out of the outer rim of detection by the city. She’d used it on and off as a way to be alone. It’d been her solace in the early years of the sixties and seventies. Montana and America had seemed insurmountable to acclimate to. But eventually she learned the rhythms, the thought processes, the ways of fitting in. She wasn’t sure she could fit in Europe any longer. The five decades between then and now were a blur, but she felt American.

  Boone stared at her, and she was okay with it. He couldn’t tell her, or Fenrir would be required to kill him. It was the oath he took, for whatever information Fenrir imparted. But the keeping it from her? It meant the info was damned important, and even her parents wouldn’t want her to have it.

  So, of course, she was dying to know what it was. Boone was innocent in that exchange. She sat straight. She knew Boone, and his gentleman ways with women. Keeping a secret from her wasn’t something he could do, so he’d find a way around it. Her instincts giggled, saying she had to keep it together long enough for him to work out how to do it.

  “What did you think of Fenrir?” She turned onto another trail, trying to keep her voice calm, quiet. Casting sideways glances, she kept track of the emotions crossing his face. When he was with her, alone, he was an open book. She wasn’t stupid, she knew he did that deliberately.

  He spoke in quiet awe, “I’ve only ever met one full god, and he threw me out of a car at you. My life is filled with the legends of the gods, their fierce power, their inability to connect, their calculating ways. Fenrir was… well, he came across as someone who felt deeply, and with a fierceness that would terrify anyone. I can see why he is the legend of Ragnarok.”

  “Fenrir is scary fantastic. I show him deference, and always will. He will kill Odin, who is extremely powerful. I always laugh. They call us immortal, but the truth? Nothing is immortal. Some are just harder to kill.” She slowed at a sharp bend, and grinned. The shack remained standing, and she parked to the side. The trees created a kind of gar
age, hiding the big Jeep. She got out, and walked to the door, Boone two steps behind. At the door, she found build up of dirt and dust and forest gunk, but with a decisive pull, the door swung open. She walked to the pot-bellied iron stove and pulled the matches off the shelving to the right. The old oil lamp remained in the same place, and she carefully lit it. Turning up the flame, she held the lamp high, and let the grin on her face turn into a wide smile. Everything was as she’d left it, and none of the charms she’d put in the corners glowed. Nobody had been to the shack since the last time she’d been there.

  “Come in, we can clean up, get some food, granted old and from tins, but food nonetheless.” She waved Boone in.

  He walked in and looked around. “I haven’t seen anything like this since I was in Louisiana. An old swamp shack a friend lived in.” He refrained from telling the rest of the tale. It wasn’t his story to impart.

  “It’s in good condition, it’s stocked for emergencies, and off the grid.” She yanked a dirt covered blanket off a lump, and a camper’s cot made an appearance, with a thick mattress. “Sheets are in a sealed bag, so we won’t have to wash anything first.” She pointed to a set of double doors set on an opposite wall. “Get to steppin’.” She grinned at him to ease the words.

  He laughed, and did as she said, without complaining. Within twenty minutes, they were warm, food warming on the stove, a fire roaring in the stove, the bed made, the couch cleared, and currently sweeping the floors of excess dirt. She noted they worked well together, not needing to say anything. It was a domestic dance of partners, and she appreciated it.

  They ate the canned stew, and he didn’t complain. He was nearly perfect domestically. Their rivalry would come into play later, and she couldn’t help wondering how it would play out. They both wanted Heather, which was her next target. Boone would be with her. Would he let the rivalry stand, or would they work something else out? She knew the woman would do better in Showtime, Iudex had a tendency for their targets to disappear. It didn’t occur to her that Veritatis might have eliminated the target all together.