Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1)

by Thea Harrison

  “You said nobody could break a window when they tried,” he said slowly. There was something dawning in his expression, an extra alertness or a comprehension.

  “That’s what Kathryn told me. Apparently, the house as it stands right now is pretty impregnable.” It was her turn to watch him closely. What was he thinking?

  He said, “Okay if I give it a try?”

  Chapter Ten

  She cocked her head and shrugged. “It’s not my property… yet… but Kathryn’s family already tried it before, so I’m going to take a chance and say sure, go ahead. Besides, if you can break a window, I can crawl through it and get inside, and then the house will be mine anyway.”

  This time she was the one to follow him as he stalked slowly across the lawn, looking at the ground. When he came to a broken piece of flagstone, he squatted, pried it up, and hefted it. The stone was big enough it would have been uncomfortably heavy for her to lift, but he carried it as if the weight was no big deal, a small but telling piece of evidence of how different they were.

  Once he had selected a stone, he strode closer to the nearest window. Then he whirled like a discus thrower and hurled the stone at the window. He moved so impossibly fast she felt both a shock and a thrill just watching him. The stone shot like a bullet, and when it hit the window, the sound of the impact rocketed across the clearing.

  But the window didn’t break.

  Excited, she jogged over to him and took his arm. “That’s exactly what Kathryn described.”

  He didn’t seem to mind that she touched him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he muttered, “But if it connected, why didn’t the window break?”

  “It hit,” she said. “It just didn’t hit exactly right.”

  He tilted his head. “But we can actually touch the house. The stone hit the house. We heard it.”

  She rubbed her face as she tried to formulate the right words. “You know how in a fight, you might throw a punch, but you are only able to land a glancing blow? Or if you brush against something—you’re touching it lightly but not completely.”

  “You’re saying we’re not fully touching the house,” he said.

  “I think so.” She paused. “Or maybe this is a better explanation. I’ve only traveled down a crossover passage a few times, so I’m no expert, but I know if you come at one from the wrong direction, you don’t enter the passageway. Assuming the terrain will allow for it, you can walk right across one and never go inside. It’s part of the land magic. You’re touching the land—you’re walking on it—but you’re not in alignment with the passageway.”

  “The house is inside the crossover magic, so it’s the alignment that matters.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Except the crossover passageway is broken. It’s in pieces, so there’s no smooth entryway like there is with passageways that function normally.”

  “I’m going to try one more time,” he said. “Stand back.”

  She skipped back a step, watching him curiously. This time he didn’t reach for anything to throw. Instead, she felt a massive surge in his Power. Suddenly light appeared in the palm of one of his hands, and he threw it. Like a bolt of lightning, the Power snapped across the space to the window and impacted it with another crack that echoed across the clearing.

  A chill ran down her spine as she watched. That bolt of lightning—that had been what he had thrown at her two weeks ago.

  She was a good, competent magic user. She had her bag of tricks: an affinity working with silver and with runes, a certain ability of prescience that she had honed over the years, a decent repertoire of spells, and a nice little bit of time-space-dimension woo-woo from her Djinn heritage—not a lot, just a little. She was talented enough that, so far, she had made her skills work to her advantage.

  But in terms of raw strength, she had nothing to compare to this. Nikolas’s Power was world-class, and he would be able to hold his own among the heaviest hitters in any of the demesnes. What else was he capable of doing?

  He turned to her and caught her staring at him. For the first time, she saw real excitement in his eyes. “I threw as much Power as I could into that morningstar, and it still didn’t break.”

  Was that what the spell was called? She glanced at the intact window, then back at him. Why was he so excited? She murmured, “That’s not really a surprise at this point….”

  “This building might be dangerous,” he told her. “But unless you have Djinn magic, the inside has got to be one of the most secure places on Earth. Virtually a fortress.”

  “Sure,” she said, watching him uncertainly. “Probably. That’s what it looks like, anyway.”

  He advanced to grab her by the shoulders. His handsome features were ablaze. “And one of those pieces of the jigsaw puzzle must connect to home. That’s where the old crossover passageway here used to lead. Right?”

  She took hold of his wrists, gripping him as he gripped her. “I-I don’t know. I guess it might be possible? But the operative word here is might.”

  He said, “Djinn can’t dematerialize and travel from Earth to Other lands, and back again. They can only travel within a certain dimension. They have to use crossover passageways just like everyone else. We all knew that. None of us ever considered, in all of this time, that a Djinn might still be able to use the pieces of broken land magic to make the trip from here to Lyonesse.”

  She sucked in a breath. There was so much hope in his face he looked like an entirely different man from the hard, closed-down stranger she had first laid eyes on. It was painful to look at him. In the intensity of his hope, she saw the true depth of the tragedy he had endured and the heartbreak.

  Gently she said, “Oh, Nikolas, this is all just a theory. We still don’t know if I’m right. Please don’t let your hopes get too high.”

  In response, he hauled her close, kissed her hard, and then looked at the house again. “Too late.”

  * * *

  Sophie looked worried. It was not an expression he was used to seeing on her face. Strangely, it made him want to pause long enough to pass his hand over the heavy, curling mass of her hair.

  A better man than he would remind her again of the increasing danger she faced as she grew more and more entangled with the Dark Court.

  But he was not a better man. He would do anything, use anyone, and use himself hardest of all, in order to break through to home, to find that safe fortress for his men, to turn the murderous tide that had all but washed the Daoine Sidhe away into memory.

  And he knew what she would say if he did try to warn her. He would get another old-timey folk lecture. She was suicidally brave, he had to give her that.

  Obeying an instinct he couldn’t put into words, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Break into that house,” he told her. “Claim it. Own it. And I will rent it from you for a fortune. I’ll get you anything you want. Money. Jewels. A villa in Capri. I’ll build you a house that is actually comfortable and safe to live in.”

  She lifted one shoulder and gave him a sly, mischievous smile. “I don’t really want a villa in Capri. I just like to say that to assholes.”

  He bit back a returning smile. “And you do like to call me an asshole, don’t you?”

  Her eyes widened. “I do. In fact, it’s become one of my favorite pastimes.” That caused him to laugh out loud—something he couldn’t remember doing for a very long time. Her eyes twinkled in response, and then she sobered to say, “I’m not the kind of person that likes to take advantage of other people’s misfortunes, and I have no interest in taking a fortune from you. If I’m able to break into the house, I’ll consider renting it to you for a fair price. I don’t even know what that means or what a fair price would be to rent a hulking, magical, dangerous, unlivable pile of a building. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

  She wasn’t just suicidally brave. She had a good heart. Nikolas didn’t believe that about many people anymore, but he was starting to believe that about her. Lightly he placed a flattened
hand over the middle of her chest, covering where her heart lived and beat its strong, true, steady beat.

  Her expression softened and grew puzzled, but she didn’t push his hand away. Instead, she patted it, then she turned to give the house a determined look. He turned to look at it too.

  He said, “If worse comes to worst, it would be worth it to me to bargain with a full Djinn to try to break through to home.”

  “You don’t know that it would work,” she warned. “Don’t waste a costly, unpredictable bargain on such a big gamble. Let me try first. I won’t make you promise to do something random, like give up your firstborn son or assassinate a head of state, or make me a bowl of homemade guacamole. Djinn are weird. Trust me. I lived with them for a couple of years. I know.”

  It was hard to rein in his galloping thoughts, but after a moment, he nodded.

  As she crossed the lawn back to the big, double front doors, he followed. Placing both hands on one of the doors, she stood for a while with her head bowed.

  He would not interrupt her like some undisciplined, half-trained youth. He would not. Crossing his arms, he glared out over the clearing while he clenched down on the powerful, uncontrolled emotions coursing through his veins.

  Enough time passed that he was beginning to rethink that position and ask her what she was doing.

  Then something happened. Something so fine and subtle that if he hadn’t already been hyperalert, he might have missed it.

  He whipped his head around to stare at her. “What was that?”

  She shook her head. Now she leaned her whole body against one of the doors, and she had inserted a large, old key into the lock. “I’m trying to shift into alignment with the door,” she muttered. “I got close enough to turn the key in the lock, but I can’t push the door open. I might not be aligned well enough, or the door might be stuck. It hasn’t been opened in a really long time.”

  “Here, let me help.” He positioned his body behind hers, placing both flattened hands against the sturdy wood. “Let me know when to push.”

  “Okay.” She went silent again, head turned to one side. He watched her profile, the tense, minute shifts in her expression. Her eyes were closed, the delicate muscles fluttering underneath that fine, creamy skin.

  Then that subtle something happened again.

  She said, “Now.”

  He threw all his strength and weight against the heavy oak door, all the power of his frustration, his grief and anger over the years, everything.

  For a brief, heartrending moment, nothing happened. Then with a gigantic, rusty creak, the door sprang open so suddenly Sophie plunged forward to sprawl flat on dusty flagstones just inside the dim interior of the house. Caught by surprise, he fell awkwardly on top of her.

  She coughed. “Fuck. Ow.”

  The door was open.

  Nikolas lifted his weight, urged her over, and when she flopped onto her back, he landed back on top of her and said into her face, “The door’s open.”

  She coughed again and laughed, threw her arms around his neck and laughed some more. Exhilaration plunged at breakneck speed through his body. He cupped her head and laughed with her, and she looked so beautiful in that moment, with those gorgeous eyes dancing and her face lit with delight, he lost himself in the desire to kiss her again.

  She kissed him back, meeting his every shift and caress fiercely, tenderly, sensually, only breaking away from his mouth to suck in another gulp of air. “You’re heavier than you look.”

  “I landed hard on top of you too,” he muttered. Finally, with an effort at some self-control, he pulled away from her reclining body. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry! We’re in. I’m in! This is my house now.” Lying there on the flagstones, she flung her arms wide and laughed again. The exuberance in her voice was impossible to resist. He grinned. “My land. Mine. Do you know I’ve never owned any property before?” Suddenly she sat up and stared at him. “Wait, the property isn’t really mine, not yet. I need to send proof that I got inside to Kathryn so that she can acknowledge it and transfer ownership.”

  “What kind of proof does she need?” Nikolas rolled to his feet and offered a hand to Sophie, who accepted it. He hauled her upright.

  “She said a photo would do, but I don’t think I can take a photo from inside the house. My flashlight worked outside, but the land magic feels too strong in here.” She frowned.

  “Give me your phone and stand in the middle of the open doorway,” he told her. “I’ll take a photo of you from some distance back. It’ll be irrefutable. You’re in.”

  “Good idea.” She dug out her phone and handed it to him.

  She had a standard smartphone with familiar apps. Loping across the lawn, he spun and thumbed through the apps to the camera and trained it on her. She stood with one hand gripping the edge of the open door, still grinning from ear-to-ear.

  He snapped several photos, then checked the phone.

  “Got it!” he called out.

  She bolted across the lawn toward him, hands out, beaming. “Gimme.”

  “Hold on a moment,” he said, moving his fingers rapidly over the small keyboard.

  “What are you doing to my phone?”

  “You didn’t save my number when you texted me earlier. I programmed my number into it.” He tossed the phone to her. She snatched it out of the air and checked the screen. Then as he watched, she thumbed through her contacts, chose one, and sent several photos.

  When she had finished, she twisted around to stare at the open door. Then she checked her phone. “Oh man, I’m going to keep checking my phone until she responds. What is the time difference between here and New York, when it’s midafternoon here?”

  “It’s five hours,” he said as he mentally did the calculation. “It’s not that early for her. She has probably started her workday, so she might not check her personal messages for a while.”

  “She’s a physician, and she said her job is really challenging. I don’t want to wait.” Sophie scowled. As he watched, she pressed the call button and held the phone to her ear. Distantly, he could hear it ringing.

  Then the ringing stopped, and a woman said in a calm, professional voice, “Kathryn Shaw.”

  “Kathryn, this is Sophie Ross.” Sophie looked at him, excitement fizzing in her eyes. “Check your messages. I sent you photos as proof that I got inside the house.”

  “You didn’t!” The woman’s voice changed completely. “You did? That’s amazing! Congratulations! How on earth did you do it? Wait—let me see the photos…. Oh my God, I can’t believe someone finally did it!”

  Sophie laughed gleefully. “I had to call you.”

  “I’m so glad you did! Have you had a chance to look around yet? Please be careful. After so long without any maintenance or upkeep, it’s got to be a death trap. The gods only know what’s in there.”

  “No, I haven’t looked around. I wanted to contact you first.”

  “But how did you get inside?”

  Sophie glanced at Nikolas. “That’s a bit of a story. The short version is, I tested out a theory, and it worked.”

  “Well, I have to go into surgery in twenty minutes, so I don’t have time to hear the whole thing now, but I want to hear it soon!”

  “Sure.” Sophie turned slightly away from him as she said, “So what does this mean legally? Where do we stand right now, today?”

  “According to the terms of the will, you gained ownership of the property and the annuity the moment you stepped inside that door. But as you’re no doubt well aware, it’s going to take a little time to process the final documents. It’ll be three to four weeks before you get the full title work and the financials. I still can’t believe you did it! Are you excited?”

  Sophie looked over her shoulder at Nikolas. “You have no idea.”

  “For several years now I’ve kept a letter on file ready to send to the solicitor in case someone managed to fulfill the terms in the will. All it needs is today’s dat
e, your legal name, and my signature.” Kathryn’s voice grew muffled and distant as she told someone else, “I’ll be right there.” Then her voice came back stronger. “I’m afraid I have to cut this short. In a few hours, when I’m back at my desk, I’ll update and sign that letter, then send the scanned copy to both you and Paul. You won’t be able to resell any of the property—if you want to—until you get the paperwork, but you’ll be able to draw on the annuity within a day or two. Will that do for now?”

  “Will that do?” Sophie laughed. “That’s amazing! I can’t thank you enough!”

  “Thank the ghost of my father. He’s the one who set this up.”

  “I know you have to go, but I have one last question, quickly. I’m having a hard time internalizing this. I actually own the property right now?”

  “You own it. Right now you own five acres of land in England, which includes the manor house and the cottage. You can’t sell any of the land until you get the paperwork, and—sorry, I should have said this before, but I’m distracted—you need to retain ownership of the manor house to keep the annuity. The entailment is attached to the owner of the house. I know it’s a weird legality. If you need to go over that in detail, Paul can explain it better than I can. All right?”

  “Yes. Thank you!”

  “I’m so excited for you! Again, congratulations! Let’s talk again soon!”

  As Sophie ended the call, she swiveled to stare at Nikolas. “I take it you heard all of that?”

  Nodding, he strode over to cup her chin in his fingers. “You can’t sell any of the property until you get the papers, but you own it. If you were to sell the manor house, you’d be selling the annuity too, which makes it a very valuable piece of real estate, whether the building is useable or not.”