Long Night Moon (The Bradbury Institute Book 2)

by Sonya Clark

  ***

  Pete sank the blade into a Raider, jerking it up to reach the heart. The Raider dropped to the ground, red staining the snow around his lifeless form. Pulling Bloodsinger from the dead body, he watched as the sword drank in the blood that clung to it. Breathing heavily, his shoulder aching from a glancing wound, he turned to search for Sanngrid.

  He spotted her in time to see her take a Raider’s head off clean with a smooth motion of her sword. Their eyes met across the snow field, now littered with bodies and blood. A feral grin creased her face, splotches of color high on her cheeks from exertion. Pete rubbed sweat from his face and made his way toward her.

  “Hell yeah, Valkyrie.” They exchanged a fist bump, armor clinking.

  The sound of a horse in the distance drew their attention. One lone Raider, wounded and leaning in his saddle, fled into the forest.

  Sanngrid said, “Should we go after him?”

  Pete shook his head. “We’ll never catch him on foot.”

  “Do you think they recognized you? How does that work here, having a price on your head?”

  “The usual. Wanted posters. Crystals with my face in them. Raiders are mercs, so yeah, they know what I look like.” He found a patch of clean snow and picked up a handful to rub on his face, then cupped a larger amount in both hands. It took only a hint of magic to melt it, giving him water to drink.

  Sanngrid gathered her own snow, holding it out for him. “How much time do you think we have?”

  “Not enough.” He melted the snow for her, then got himself another double handful. “There are caves in the side of the mountain. That’s where they’ll be. We get closer and this adrenaline rush wears off I should be able to sense her.”

  The feral grin returned. “This is fun. We should raid Sideways more often.”

  Pete managed a weak smile. “Freaking maniac. Let’s go.”

  ***

  Maura slammed the refrigerator shut. “We’re out of turkey.”

  “I’m sure ham or something else would be fine.” Niall stood over the espresso machine, waiting for it to cycle.

  “We’re out of all deli meats and cheeses. You’re going to have to go into town. I can’t believe what piss-poor shape that idiot left the kitchen in before she left.”

  “Devin was probably just excited about her vacation. Wasn’t she taking a cruise or something?”

  “I don’t care what she had planned. She was supposed to do her job before leaving. It’s not my job to run both the infirmary and the kitchen.” She entered the small office in the back of the kitchen, halting just inside the doorway. “Goddess, that desk is a mess. No wonder she can’t do the ordering properly.”

  Niall muttered something she chose to ignore, too intent on being annoyed. Devin was always a bit too lackadaisical in her work for Maura’s taste but it wasn’t her place to tell her to shape up and do her damn job. But she would certainly be letting Chet know the sorry state of the kitchen.

  With a resigned sigh she sat and began to paw through the mess on the desk for blank paper and a pen. She needed to make a list for Niall, a long one. Deli meat and cheese for sandwiches, sugar, flour, oranges. She might as well go through the fridge and pantry both.

  The drift of paper across the desk infuriated Maura. Old receipts, recipes, crumpled shopping lists, a cocktail napkin from a bar in Wayfaring with a phone number scrawled in sloppy handwriting.

  Niall entered the office with an espresso cup as an offering. She took it gratefully. “If I didn’t know Chet better I’d wonder if Devin kept her job by staying on her back.”

  He started. “Damn, you are mad. Is it that bad?”

  “I don’t like how she took off so quick without making sure this kitchen could run without her for two weeks. Just because we’re support staff doesn’t mean we half ass it.”

  He rubbed her shoulder, fingers seeking out knots of tension. “I’m sure she does the best she can.”

  Maura let herself enjoy his touch for a long moment. Finishing off the espresso, she opened a drawer to search for a notepad. More junk. She continued down the desk’s column of drawers, finding the third and last one empty.

  Something glittery caught her eye as she was about to close the drawer. Peering closer, she found a small black jewel loose in the drawer. “Niall.”

  “Hm.”

  She pointed at the object. “What does that look like to you?”

  He knelt, picking up the jewel and holding it up between two fingers for them both to inspect. “Crap.”

  “That looks a lot like the black diamond they brought back from Frankfurt.”

  “It feels bad, too. Dark magic.”

  Maura launched from the chair and ran into the kitchen proper. Niall followed. She brought a plastic bowl and lid. He dropped the jewel in and she sealed the lid. She said, “Let’s go find Chet.”

  “Do you think Devin is working for them, whoever they are?”

  Maura answered with silence.

  Chapter 11

  Eve reached for every ounce of shielding ability she possessed, but it wasn’t enough. As if the images weren’t bad enough, emotions and physical sensation poured from the manacles, downloading directly into her nervous system.

  Pete, being hung by his manacled hands from a hook in a ceiling, toes barely touching the floor. Muscles stretched almost unbearably taut, thirst cracking his lips. As bad as that was, it seemed gentle compared to what followed. She felt it in her own back, every crack of the whip against his bare flesh. Her own screaming mingled with his.

  The cold touch of a female hand on his face, nails raking his skin. “Leoben, my favorite pet. You must entertain us.” But to this woman entertainment meant pain and she was very fond of it.

  In some dim corner of her mind Eve was aware of her true surroundings. She couldn’t shut off the horrors brought on by the manacles but she was able to move, crawling slowly across the cold stone floor.

  The scene in her mind shifted. Pete lay in a dank cell, too sick and wracked with pain to move, much less call on magic. Sapped of his strength, his will nearly crushed, he was helpless and alone. He shivered in the throes of fever, barely conscious but wishing for death.

  Tears fell on the stone, some landing on her hands as she struggled to crawl. What was this nightmare? What had happened to Pete? Held captive, tortured, kept alive only to be hurt more-but why? Eve tried to manipulate the manacles into telling her what she wanted to know. It gave her two images. One of a Sidhe woman with a tangle of black curls and a face ruined by madness. The other was of a human woman, blonde and blue-eyed like her sons.

  No.

  The answers, at least some, fell into place, sickening Eve. She reached a pair of long legs clad in dark pants. He knelt, his light blue eyes so different from Pete’s but even so, there was something familiar there. Throat sore from screaming, she whispered, “You’re his brother.”

  “Yes,” he said. “My name is Agnar. His real name is Leoben.”

  She coughed, trembling under another onslaught from the manacles. “Agnar. How well do you know your brother?”

  In an instant the ice in his eyes dissolved into panic. Before he could move Eve lunged, grabbing both sides of his face. She sent every last bit of energy she had into projecting the horrors of the manacles into him.

  He would know his brother now. It was someone else’s turn to scream.

  ***

  Bettine hovered above in a swirling cascade of light. Diamonds clung to her form and dripped from her fingertips. Her face, stripped of glamour, barely resembled her human form. Angular bone structure had become knife edges, her lush mouth now a slash of red fury. Jade eyes had darkened to black, glittering and hard. Small ears were now elongated to elegant points at the top, sharp as the rest of her. Long manicured nails now ended in serrated edges, slashing at his face.

  The cut she opened on his cheek burned, a heavy line of blood trailing from it. Chet whispered her name, pleading. It satisfied her, so she opened an
other cut on the other side of his face.

  Someone shook him, called his name. Chet ignored them, tilting his face to look up at Bettine. He reached for her. She met his hand with the blades of her fingernails, leaving trails of blood on his flesh. He called out to her but she waved her hand, trapping the sound of his voice in his throat.

  Once again someone unseen shook him. He tried to push them away. A burst of magic slashed across his awareness and Chet woke, covered in nightmare gossamer.

  “Help me get this stuff off of him!” Maura knelt over him, Niall on the other side. They scraped the gossamer away with their hands into a pile on the floor. Once it was all removed Maura lit it on fire with a flick of Fae magic, as natural as breathing. It disappeared into ash, the last vestiges of the nightmare going with it.

  Chet wiped his face with his hands, slowly taking in his surroundings. He sat on the floor against the door of his office, facing a goblin trap in the middle of the Archives floor. Bettine was nowhere to be seen. She’d left him, probably bored, not caring if it made him vulnerable. He kept his face covered for a moment longer, not wanting to see the look on the others’ faces.

  Maura said, “Are you okay?”

  Chet shivered, willing himself to not check for cuts on his face and hands. “Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. Is something up?” He tried to be nonchalant about the nightmare, hoping they would follow his lead and not ask questions.

  Niall seemed inclined to do him the courtesy. “We found something in Devin’s office in the kitchen. In the desk.”

  “What is it?” Chet remained seated on the floor, not sure how steady he would be if he tried to stand.

  Niall handed him a small plastic box. Chet opened it, fingers fumbling a bit. He stared at the black diamond for a long moment before swearing.

  Maura said, “It’s like the one you brought back from Frankfurt, isn’t it?”

  Chet closed the box. “We’ll need someone else to verify but yeah, looks like it.”

  “So is Devin a spy or what?” Niall said. “Why the hell would she have this in her desk?”

  “Judith and I have had our suspicions that whoever those people are, they might have a spy close to us, maybe in town, but we weren’t sure if they’d gone as far as getting someone on the inside.”

  “It would explain her erratic behavior in the last few weeks,” Maura said. “And why she left for the holidays without doing her job. She’s probably not coming back.”

  Chet handed the box to Niall and said, “Okay, let’s go talk to Judith.” He tried to climb to his feet but his knees gave out and he slid back to the floor. “Okay, let’s just sit here for a minute.”

  Niall pretended there was something fascinating on the far wall but Maura would not let it pass. “Where is she?”

  It was no use pretending she meant Devin. He shrugged. “She got bored. You know how she is.”

  “Yes, I do, and so do you.”

  Niall said in a low voice, “Maura, not now.”

  Chet closed his eyes, leaning his head against the door. He didn’t need Maura or anyone else to tell him what Bettine was like, or that he was a fool for putting up with her. He knew that all too well. Right now he much preferred dealing with the goblin problem and the possible spy problem over his relationship problems.

  ***

  Screams pierced the frigid night. Pete lost his footing in the snow, throwing up a hand to catch himself on the stone wall. He wasn’t sure but it sounded like Eve. Behind him, Sanngrid swore in a language he didn’t recognize. Withdrawing his Desert Eagle from a holster, he made a note to thank Rowdon for the cold iron bullets in the clip. He had a feeling he’d need every last one of them.

  He made eye contact with Sanngrid and she nodded. They sped up, racing through the snow-filled tunnel. Soon the ground cleared as they neared a cave deep within the mountain. Another scream sounded, this time in a masculine voice.

  “I hope she’s fighting back,” said Sanngrid.

  “And that she’s up to fighting her way out with us,” Pete replied.

  They reached a curve in the tunnel, light around the bend indicating the cave. Pete took the left side, Sanngrid on the right, both with weapons in each hand. Sanngrid held up three fingers for the countdown.

  Pete reached out with his senses to gauge how much power was in the cave. Two low-level magicians, Crantz probably one of them.

  Sanngrid flashed two fingers.

  Eve, her presence clear and bright in his awareness. And fighting, hard.

  The countdown came down to one, Sanngrid using her middle finger and grinning.

  Another energy signature announced itself, one Pete never thought he’d feel again. Never wanted to feel again. He froze as Sanngrid stalked to the cave entrance, guns drawn. “Oh no, no, no. This is not happening.”

  The crack of a bullet exploded in the cave, followed by more screams. Sanngrid fired again, the sound finally spurring Pete into action. He ran to her side, searching the cave for Eve.

  She crouched on the ground, a woman with acid green hair holding a knife to her throat. Crantz lay several feet away, clutching his bleeding leg. Sanngrid raised one gun to the tall man in the middle of the room, aiming at center mass.

  Pete met the man’s eyes, shock blooming through him in a wave that threatened to send him to his knees. He shook his head, not wanting to believe it. Movement caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He reached out, snatching the gun from Sanngrid before she had time to fire.

  “What the hell?” she said.

  The taller man approached, his face a mask. Pete stood his ground, hands at his sides.

  “Leoben,” Agnar said, voice choking. “Little brother.”

  Pete let himself be drawn into his brother’s embrace, guns clattering to the stone floor. Sanngrid stepped back, muttering again in another language. Over his brother’s shoulder he saw Eve, tears slipping down her cheeks.

  Chapter 12

  Pete shut his eyes, the labored sound of his own breathing loud in his head. He flexed his hands, then forced himself to return his brother’s embrace. But only for a moment, one brief moment in honor of what they had shared in their best moments as kids, before pushing Agnar away.

  “What is this?” Pete demanded.

  Whatever trace of sentiment had been there earlier vanished under a mask of ice. Agnar said, “I think it more than fair that you answer my questions first, Leoben.”

  Struggling to bring his breathing under control, Pete pointed at the woman holding Eve at knifepoint. “Tell your lackey to let her go.” His brother said nothing. “This isn’t out of control yet, Agnar. But if you push me it’ll get there fast.”

  Looking unimpressed, except for a tightness around his eyes Pete recognized, Agnar glanced over his shoulder and nodded. The green-haired woman shoved Eve away, then made her way to Crantz’s side.

  Eve tried to stand but wobbled, sitting down hard on the stone floor. Sanngrid went to help her, making a point of collecting the guns Pete had dropped. Pete said, “Sanngrid, get Eve out of here. I’ll follow when I can.”

  Agnar said, “No one’s going anywhere until I get what I came for.”

  “I don’t care what you want,” Pete said. “What the hell was the point of this? It’s pretty clear to me you knew I was alive. Why play games? Why not just come to me if you wanted to have it out?”

  Agnar chuckled. “The thought of setting foot inside your precious institute amuses me, but it wasn’t an option. Not yet. I had to make you come to me but I knew if you were willing to go to the trouble of faking your own death you wouldn’t come willingly. Incentive was necessary.”

  “So you kidnap a colleague? For fuck’s sake, I hope you don’t plan on asking me why I went to such lengths to get the hell away from you.”

  “No, I don’t need to ask that. You never approved of my ambition or my methods.”

  “You didn’t need my approval, you had Mother’s.” Pete spat the word like it was an epithet.

 
; “And you never did! Little lost boy in a family of dark magicians. Do you still tell yourself that trite piece of fiction or have you moved on to a new pack of lies as your own personal mythology?”

  Old anger boiled dangerously close to the surface. Pete tried to shake it off but it was stubborn. The old hurts always were. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. As usual.”

  Agnar took a step closer, pointing at Eve. “I didn’t kidnap a colleague, Leoben. I took your woman because she deserves to know who you are.”

  Magic roared to life in Pete’s blood, angry and looking for something to attack. He did his best to ground it but it didn’t quite work. Cracks opened in the stone beneath his feet, running in jagged lines toward his brother. His brain couldn’t make sense of what Agnar said, of what it implied. He couldn’t even form a question to ask. All he could do was lash out. A noise from Eve got his attention and he realized what he was doing. Like putting a stopper in a volcano, he smothered his rage and got the magic that hovered close to the surface under control.

  Agnar held out his hand, drawing something from the floor to him with a lash of energy. He tossed it at Pete, who caught it by reflex. Recognition flooded him, followed by a roiling nausea. He’d worn those manacles every day he’d been a prisoner of the Bone Queen. Every scream, all the pain, the degradation, the fury-it would have left a psychic imprint deep in the bone. And his brother had dumped all of that, every single nightmare Pete ran from as hard as he could, into Eve.

  Pete didn’t need to ask for confirmation. He saw it in her face. He looked away, shame burning a path straight into the darkest parts of himself. Agnar had always shared their mother’s streak of cruelty but this was too much. It cut too deep and bled too freely. Pete wouldn’t allow himself to think of what Eve must have seen, the things she must have felt. He didn’t think at all.

  He charged at Agnar, knocking the taller man to the ground. Surprise gave Pete the advantage and he pushed it, beating his brother with the manacles. Every blow brought back a memory he wanted buried forever. Every fleck of blood that landed on his armor, his face, opened up the fury he’d kept bottled up so tightly. He didn’t use magic, didn’t want to. Only a physical, visceral beating would do. Someone was screaming, a wordless flood of pain. Pete thought it was Agnar or maybe even himself.