"Revelle!
He tightened his grip on my arm and he turned toward the voice. I peered around Revelle. Junior stood in the open doorway, backlit by the sun. His body was outlined in a halo of light, his dark hair sparked with gold. In my entire life, I'd never seen anything more beautiful than Junior at that moment.
"I've got the moonstone, Revelle." Junior's voice was clear and strong. "Let her go and it's yours.
Revelle let me go alright. With strength far greater than a mortal man, he picked me up and threw me toward the jumble of apple bins. A piercing scream ripped from my throat as I sailed through the air.
I landed on my left side on an upturned bin. My head whipped back and bounced off a sharp corner, and I slid down to the floor. Agonizing pain slashed through my body, and my world turned dark around the edges.
I gritted my teeth against the pain, even though I wanted to give in to the darkness and the blessed oblivion it offered. Instead, I focused on Junior standing in the doorway, one hand outstretched, holding the moonstone. Sirens wailed in the distance. Faye peeked around the corner of the door. Revelle grabbed the moonstone and ran.
Chapter Twenty Five
I must have blacked out for a moment. When I came to, I was cradled in Junior's arms, his tears wet on my face. I tried to breathe, but with each inhalation, a knife-like pain ripped through my body. Soft lips brushed across my cheek.
"You're gonna be fine, Emerson," he murmured. "Just fine. You know why? 'Cause Junior said so.
Faye's worried face swam into view. Her voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "I love you, baby.
She brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. One of her fingers was bleeding.
"Did it hurt ... when you pull your hand loose?" I croaked.
"I'm fine. The paint stripper did the trick.
I had something important to say. "I didn't mean it," I gasped. "The part about living with Grandpa Claude.
Faye bent over me. Her tears, soft as a warm summer rain, fell on my face, mingling with Junior's. "I know, baby. I know.
I tried to lift my head, but it hurt too much.
The rest of that awful day is a jumble of memories. The sound of sirens. Footsteps scraping across the wooden floor. Gentle hands probing my body. A flashlight shining in my eyes. A deep male voice saying, "Hey there, cutie. How about a ride in your very own limo?
I felt the prick of a needle and was borne away, blissfully pain-free, my face bathed in the tears of love.
* * * *
It took three days before my head worked properly. Strangely, faces are the only thing I remember from those lost days. Faye ... pale and haggard, black eye turning purple. Junior ... angry eyes and set jaw. Deputy Philpott ... lips moving, no sound. An assortment of doctors and nurses.
The third dayactually it was the middle of the nightI opened my eyes and looked up into the face of A. Haugen, boss nurse, mistress of the bedpans, the giver of orders.
"Hi, A. Haugen. Why are you here? Are my feet dirty?
She looked down at me and sighed. "Alice, not A. In case you've forgotten, I work here.
She raised the head of the bed and stood over me while I drank two full glasses of water.
I handed her the empty glass and took stock of my body. My left arm was in a cast. An IV was attached to my right arm. My ribs were taped, and I had a severe pain in my butt.
Nurse Haugen recited my injuries. "Moderate to severe concussion ... that's why you're still in the hospital. Broken left wrist. Three broken ribs and a cracked coccyx ... that's your tailbone. Other than that, you're good as new.
She winked to let me know she'd made a little joke.
I smiled my appreciation, shifted slightly and felt my cracked whats-it scream in protest. In days to come, this injury would give new meaning to the term "butt crack.
Nurse Haugen helped me to the bathroom, fed me broth and tucked me back in bed.
"Sleep," she ordered. "Your mother will be here in the morning.
As she marched to the door, I remembered.
"Hey, boss nurse. I thought you worked days.
"I do." She didn't bother to turn around. "Had a hunch you might wake up tonight.
Faye arrived with a big smile and a balloon bouquet. Nurse Haugen had called Uncle Sid, asked for Faye and told her, "Allie's awake and, judging from her smart mouth, on the road to recovery.
My mind slowly connected the dots. Uncle Sid ... Aunt Sandra ... Matt ... Tiffany.
"Tiffany's bike! I couldn't find the keys to the truck.
"It's fine, Allie," Faye said. "Sid drove over to..." She paused and shuddered. "He got the bike." Faye pulled a chair up next to my bed and held my hand. "You need to know what Junior and I told the police.
She pulled a newspaper clipping from her purse. The headlines read, "Heroic Teen Saves Mother.
"Oh, please," I muttered.
I read through the article twice and looked at Faye in disbelief. The details were sketchy and totally wrong. "Mistaken identity? That's what you came up with?
"People wouldn't understand about the moonstone.
Faye's abductors, according to the article, believed she was the wife of a wealthy fruit grower who would pay big bucks to get her back. The article went on to say, "Emerson's fifteen-year-old daughter, Alfrieda, at great risk to herself, went to the abandoned warehouse where her mother was being held. The quick-witted teen sent one of the men on a bogus search for the ransom money. In his absence, a wall of apple bins collapsed, killing the second man. The fortuitous accident enabled the teen and her mother to escape. The other alleged kidnapper evaded apprehension.
No mention of Junior. The article closed with a list of the injuries I'd suffered in a tussle with one of the men.
"Wow," I said. "Talk about creative writing. Fortuitous accident, huh?
I had some issues about causing a man's death. True, he was bent on maiming and/or killing us, and the purpose of the Star Seekers is to fight evil in the world. But does that mean it's okay to squash a person with flying apple bins? For the umpteenth time, I wished my paranormal powers came with an owner's manual.
Later, I had a parade of visitors. Manny and Mercedes, shy at first, warmed up enough to share the latest gossip. Apparently Diddy and his mother had vanished. Big surprise. Mrs. Burke stopped by with homework, a new vocabulary list and this week's multicultural lesson. Like I really needed to know how to say, "Delighted to meet you," in Ukrainian.
Before she left, she whispered, "I'm so glad Carmel wasn't involved in her mother's attack. You'll keep our little secret about the new will ... right?
After she left, I tried to wrap my mind around the big picture. One piece of the puzzle was missing. Junior and the moonstone. Overcome by exhaustion and questions without answers, I closed my eyes, just for a minute.
Three hours later, I woke to find Junior sitting by my bed. He cupped my face in his hands and brushed his lips across mine. He smelled of french fries. My stomach growled. Some things never change.
I raised the bed and fired questions at him.
"Where were you Saturday?
"Did you know Revelle and Baxter were in your house?
"How did you know where to find me?
"Whoa, Emerson. Slow down. Saturday, I was with the guy making the fake moonstone. I got your note late that night and yeah, I knew somebody had tossed the place. I figured it was those two.
I told him I was there, in his house, hiding behind the drapes, and how Revelle and Baxter got scared off by the crucifix falling off the wall.
"Say what?" Fascinated, I watched an array of emotions play across Junior's face. Surprise. Disbelief. Wonder. "Tell me again about the crucifix," he said.
"It terrified Revelle and Baxter. They held up their palms and turned their faces away, like they were trying to put up a protective shield. That's what gave me the idea.
Junior's gaze was intense. "What idea?
"While Revelle and Baxter were looking for the moons
tone, I stuck my hand through the crack in the drapes and raised my palm toward the crucifix.
Junior leaned forward. "And...?
"Jesus opened his eyes.
Junior crossed himself and muttered, "Madre de Dios.
"The second time I did it...
"What do you mean, the second time?
"Revelle was coming for me.
I shivered, remembering the terror I'd felt as Revelle approached my hiding place. "I knew I couldn't get away. I raised my hand again, and the crucifix fell off the wall. Revelle and Baxter couldn't get out of there fast enough.
Junior looked at me and smiled, like he wanted to tell me something but was waiting for the right moment. I waited, but he simply took my hand, turned it over and traced the star with one finger. I felt a little tingle. Guess I was going to live after all.
I hated to spoil the sweet moment we were sharing, but I had to know.
"Remember the morning in Kizzy's house when you wouldn't let me see your palm?
Junior ducked his head in embarrassment. "Yeah.
"For a while, I thought maybe you were one of them ... you know, a Trimark.
Junior released my hand and turned his palm up. His wrist was covered with a bandage.
"Didn't want you to see my tattoo from when I was runnin' with the Sureños. Just had it sanded off.
He held his palm out for me to see. "Check it out, Emerson. No triangle.
I smiled. "You're right. No triangle.
"Any more questions?
"Yes," I said. "How did you get to the Bradford place so fast?
"I went to your trailer and found the note. I was on the way to the phone booth when your mother called.
I was quiet for a moment. "So you gave Revelle the moonstone.
"Correction," Junior said. "I gave Revelle the fake moonstone.
He pulled the real moonstone out of his pocket and held it by the silver chain. It swung back and forth, a shimmer of light on its opalescent surface.
I gasped in surprise then laughed out loud, my first laugh in a long time. It hurt my ribs, but it was worth it.
Junior fastened the chain around my neck, took my hand and wrapped my fingers around the moonstone.
"Back where it belongs." His voice was husky with emotion.
I smiled and ran my thumb over its satiny surface. "Do you think Revelle will be back?
"I doubt it. Too many people looking for him. Besides, he thinks he has the real thing.
"And he's trying to figure out how it works," I finished.
He nodded. "I better go before that mean nurse throws me out.
"One more question. Where was the moonstone hidden all this time?
Junior looked at me and smiled, his eyes dancing with delight, as if he had a wonderful secret to share. He crossed himself again, leaned close and whispered, "In the crucifix.
My mouth fell open. He kissed my cheek and left. Later, as daylight crept away and the first stars appeared, I was left with one more question. Saturday, in Junior's house, the crucifix had kept me from harm. Was it Jesus or the moonstone? Or both?
* * * *
The next day, I had a visit from the FBI. That's right! Alfrieda Carlotta Emerson working with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Actually, I didn't help them at all. The man, Special Agent Tom Jenkins, was fish-belly white, had a bad comb-over and looked like he should be driving a hearse.
He asked questions like, "Young lady, is it possible your mother had social discourse with one or more of the alleged kidnappers?"
I didn't like the way he said "social discourse." Not that I knew what it meant.
"No, never!" I replied hotly. "No discourse at all. She doesn't have discourse with strangers.
He kept asking stupid questions until Nurse Haugen came in, took a look at my face and ordered him out of the room.
The other agent, a woman, didn't say a word until Jenkins left. Haugen glared at her and said, "Two minutes. That's it!
Her name was Ruth Wheeler. She had soft blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. Her voice was soothing. "You've had a rough time, Allie. When you feel better, maybe we can talk.
She set her business card on my bedside table. What she did next left me speechless.
Special Agent Wheeler lifted her hand and held it so I could see her palm. I inhaled sharply and nodded. The star was fully formed and visible in the exact center of her palm. Ruth Wheeler was a Star Seeker.
She took my hand and touched her palm to mine. "You're not alone.
When she walked to the door, she turned and smiled. "We've been waiting for you, Allie.
I touched a finger to the star on my palm, wondering what the future would bring. Unbidden, the words written beneath the astrological chart in Mike Purdy's office appeared in my mind, a beacon of light in a murky sea of confusion.
You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.
Later, Nurse Haugen pulled some strings and moved me into Kizzy's room. Kizzy had come out of her coma. The light was back in her eyes, but she had no recollection of her attack or attackers.
"Perfect roommates," Haugen said, snapping the curtain open between our beds. "She's trying to remember, and you're trying to forget.
Kizzy and I talked for a while. When she drifted off to sleep, I reached up to turn off the light. The phone rang. Tired and cranky, I hoped it wasn't some idiot asking me how it felt to be a hero. I didn't feel much like a hero. I just wanted to sleep.
"Hello," I snapped.
"Allie?
The man's voice was familiar.
"Yes, this is Allie. Who's this?
When the man spoke again, his voice sounded strained. "I read about what happened to you.
I waited, trying to put a face with the voice.
After a long silence, he said, "It's just the beginning.
"What's just beginning?
I heard him breathe into the phone.
"I'm hanging up now," I said.
"Don't hang up. We need to talk. It's Mike Purdy ... your father.
I caught my breath. A jillion thoughts raced through my mind. Hadn't I been waiting for this moment all my life? So many things I wanted to say. Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I was in pain.
Maybe it was because I didn't know what else to say. So I said, "Yeah, I know.
"Allie. You have every right to be mad. I've been an ass.
"Yes," I agreed.
"I saw the star on your palm that day at the store.
I waited a beat before asking, "Did you send me the cell phone?
"Yes, you needed to know the big picture.
What was I feeling? Anger. Resentment. Joy. Regret. Confusion. I was drowning in a sea of emotion. I needed time to sort it out. Unfortunately, my mouth wasn't willing to wait.
"I just turned fifteen." My voice was choked with tears. "Where have you been?
"I know, I know," he said. "But this thing with the moonstone. It's too big. We have to put the past behind us.
"Easy for you to say.
"What do you want me to do?
I thought about Faye. How pride had kept her from asking for help.
"Nothing," I said. "We're doing fine.
He sighed. "Just don't shut the door. I'll call you again. Okay?
I hung up the phone, my righteous indignation quickly turning to regret. He'd been man enough to pick up the phone and apologize. He'd acknowledged my anger and offered help.
Don't shut the door, he'd said.
But I'd slammed it in his face. Mike Purdy wasn't the only ass.
Decision time, Allie. You can be bitter and spiteful like Faye or you can get to know your father.
All right. So tomorrow, I'd call him back.
I pulled the covers up to my chin and looked out the window. The new moon was barely visible in the night sky, an iridescent sliver of light in a field of scattered stars. When I was little, I thought the moon magically changed shape, growing bigger until it was per
fectly round, then becoming smaller until it vanished completely. I remembered Faye telling me, "No, Allie. It's always there. We just can't see what's hidden in the dark of the moon.
Like the neophyte moon, I'd stepped from the shadow to begin my journey. I felt like a tiny speck of light dancing across the vastness of earth. Because of the prophecy, my light shone brighter than before, but my future was hidden in the dark of the moon.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but of one thing I was sure: My name was Alfrieda Carlotta Emerson Purdy.
And I was a Star Seeker.
Acknowledgements
Hugs to Deborah S. and Debra D. for your encouragement, kind words and gentle guidance. Thank you for dragging me into the twenty-first century.
About the Author
When she's not vacuuming up enough dog hair to create a whole new dog, Marilee is either reading and completely oblivious to the world around her, or staring at her computer screen, waiting for inspiration to strike. (She calls it writing.) Every now and then, she can be found upside-down. Praying she won't pop a vein in the process, she believes the inverted position increases blood flow to the brain. Sometimes, it just makes her dizzy.
Marilee and her husband, Merl, live in Central Washington State also known as "The Fruit Bowl of the Nation." Unofficial motto: "We never met a fruit we didn't like."
Having survived teaching high school students and raising three sons, Marilee is now working on the next book in the Unbidden Magic series.
Visit her at www.marileebrothers.com.
She's just your ordinary, part-demon, teenaged vampire hunter with a Texas drawl.
And a pet hellhound named Fang.
Bite Me
A Demon Underground Novel
by Parker Blue
Bell Bridge Books
October 2008
Valentine Shapiro got a raw deal in the parent lottery. Her father was part incubus demon, and her mother's never quite accepted Val's part-demon nature. Life after high school is tough enough without having to go fifteen rounds with your inner succubus. Thrown out of the house by her mother, Val puts one foot in front of the other and does the only thing that seems to make any senseshe helps police battle the local vampires. Those fangbangers are causing some serious trouble! And, as Val likes to say, "A stake a day keeps the demon at bay." (But don't call her Buffy. That makes Lola, her demon, very cranky.)
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