Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella

by J. R. Rain

  “And there’s no evidence of it ever being found, either. Didn’t the professor say that divers have been looking for it for decades? Well, maybe they’re looking in the wrong place. Maybe they should be looking here, on this island—where, I might add, this entity friend of ours is compelling Tara and Edwin to dig endlessly.”

  I opened my mouth to speak. There was a sort of insane logic to what she was saying.

  “Insane?” she echoed, reading my thoughts.

  “Kinda crazy, kiddo,” I said. “But what makes you think Archibald even had one of the medallions?”

  “I don’t know, but it makes sense. A treasure, Sam. A treasure. The medallion would be considered treasure, wouldn’t it? Besides, what else would the entity have Edwin and Tara looking for? The family doesn’t exactly need a few crappy gold coins.”

  “I could use a few crappy gold coins.”

  “Me, too,” said Allison. “My point is this: there is a very good chance the third medallion is here, on this island.”

  “Then why lure me up here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious, Sam?”

  “No.”

  “The entity—and now me—thinks that you can help it find it.”

  “Now that’s crazy.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Remember, Sam, you have possessed two prior medallions. By this point, it might be desperate.”

  “Fine. Then what does it want with my kids?”

  And just as the question escaped my lips, I knew the answer. Allison, in tune with my own thoughts, gasped.

  “One of the medallions is in you,” she said. “And the other medallion...”

  “Is in my son,” I said grimly.

  “Didn’t Archibald break down the other medallion into some sort of potion?”

  I nodded, feeling so sick that I could vomit. A potion that my son drank. “Yes.”

  “A medallion which reversed your son’s vampirism?” said Allison.

  “Mostly.”

  “So, in effect, one medallion is in you, and one is in him, and the third...”

  “Might just be on this island,” I said, and held my stomach, thinking of my son.

  “But why does he want the medallions?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was at that moment that a God-awful loud wolf-howl blasted through the blowing wind.

  Allison jumped. “Jesus, was that a wolf?”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling some relief.

  “Here on the island? I thought there were no predators.”

  “Not of the mortal kind,” I said. “Get dressed.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  We found him in the back woods, dripping wet.

  “Don’t say it, Sam,” said Kingsley.

  “Say what?” I asked innocently enough.

  “Anything about a wet dog.”

  “I would never say anything about you looking just like a wet dog caught out in the rain.”

  Kingsley shook his great, shaggy head and looked over at Allison. Only someone oblivious would miss the way his eyes reflected amber. Damn beautiful eyes.

  Yes, I used to enjoy staring into those eyes, especially on nights when my sister had the kids. I had just been falling in love with the big oaf, when he decided to unzip his fly at the wrong time.

  Bastard.

  “Don’t look at me that way, Sam,” he said.

  “What way?”

  “Like you want to take a chainsaw to my balls.”

  Allison snorted. She was, I sensed, quite smitten with Kingsley Fulcrum. No surprise there. Hard to resist someone who stood six and a half feet tall, and had shoulders wide enough to see from outer space.

  Down girl, I said to her telepathically.

  I think I’m in love.

  No, you’re not.

  To Kingsley, I said, “I’ll add that to my to-do list. Might teach you a lesson.”

  “If it keeps you from hating me, then do it.”

  “You two are funny,” said Allison.

  “Who’s the broad?” asked Kingsley, jabbing a thick thumb her direction.

  “Broad?” she laughed. “Do people really talk that way?”

  “They do when they’re almost a hundred years old.”

  “Sam!” snapped Kingsley.

  “She knows everything, you big ape.”

  “I’ve never met a werewolf before,” said Allison, stepping around him. Kingsley, I noted, lifted his upper lip in what might have been an irritated snarl. “Are they always as big as you?” she asked.

  “Sam...” growled Kingsley. His wet hair hung below the collar of his soaking-wet jacket and jeans. He was also—I could hardly believe it—barefoot.

  “There are no secrets between Sam and I,” said Allison. “At least not many. We’re blood sisters, so to speak.”

  Kingsley growled again and shook his head, just like a wet dog. Allison and I squealed and took cover.

  “Oops, sorry,” he said, and I caught his impish grin.

  “You can trust her,” I said, wiping my face. “It’s you who I can’t trust.”

  “Low blow, Sam. I came all the way out here to help you, not take abuse.”

  “You deserve some abuse,” I said.

  “Fine,” he said. “Then are we done?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “And that reminds me...how did you get out here? No ferries or boats are out in this weather.”

  “I can still swim, Sam.”

  “Dog paddle?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Okay, I’m done,” I said, until his words hit me full force. “Jesus, did you really swim?”

  “Not all of us can fly, Sam.”

  I recalled the churning waves, the white caps. The sea was angry. Kingsley, I knew, was no ordinary man. Or even an ordinary werewolf. Mortal or immortal, few could have made that swim, especially in these conditions.

  “We need to get you dry,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “We need to keep you safe. What’s going on? Bring me up to speed.”

  And so we did, there in the forest, while the big hulk of a man occasionally wrung out his hair, all while the treetops swayed violently. Finally, when we were done, he said, “I agree with Allison.”

  She beamed.

  I said, “What part?”

  “All of it. The medallion must be here. It’s the only thing that makes sense. And I think we should beat the bastard to it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I was pretty sure my eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Let’s find the medallion first.”

  “And then do what with it?” I asked.

  “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

  I opened my mouth to protest. I wasn’t as entirely convinced as my two friends—one of whom was, of course, an ex-boyfriend and just barely in the “friend” category. Still, I couldn’t think of a reason to protest. Hell, maybe they were right. Maybe I was, somehow, attached to the medallions.

  If it’s even here on the island, I thought.

  It’s here, thought Allison. I’m sure of it. I’m psychic, too, remember?”

  I sighed and nodded, and was about to suggest that we go back for shovels when Allison pointed out that there was probably equipment on the other side of the island. I nodded again, recalling my flight over the north end of the land mass. Yes, I had seen what appeared to be sheds and outbuildings. All abandoned. No doubt, Edwin and Tara kept their equipment in there, or nearby.

  As I worked through this, thinking, I caught Kingsley’s amber stare. The brute wasn’t even shivering, but his heart was hurting. I could see it in his anguished eyes. Yeah, he missed me. He also should have thought about that before breaking my heart.

  Still, he had come all the way out here for me. So, I reached out and ran a hand over his beefy shoulder and said, “Thank you for coming.”

  “Anything for you, Samantha Moon,” he said. “Anything.”

  I nodded sadly—perhaps for what could have been—and the three of us headed down th
e pine needle-covered dirt road that cut through the heart of the island, and headed north.

  On a fool’s run, no doubt.

  Chapter Forty-three

  The storm seemed to be growing stronger.

  Wind shrieked. Trees bent. Rain rattled leaves everywhere. As we trekked north, I couldn’t help but think that Kingsley and Allison might be onto something. I was technically a carrier of one of the medallions, and my son...well, my son had consumed another medallion in a sort of potion concocted by one Archibald Maximus, who, as it turned out, was also quite the alchemist.

  The medallion is in my son, too, I realized. In his blood, perhaps.

  But what did the entity intend to do with my son? Was he going to drink from my boy? I shuddered and nearly worked myself into a panic. Jesus, and what did he intend to do with me? The medallion, as far as I was aware, was now eternally a part of me.

  There were four such medallions, and if one of them was indeed hidden on the island, that would be three. The whereabouts of the fourth were unknown to me...and yet, even as I thought about that, the fleeting hint of a memory came to me. And then left just as quickly.

  Good God, did I actually know where the fourth medallion was?

  I didn’t know, but I figured it was best to approach this one medallion at a time.

  More importantly: what did the bastard want with all four medallions?

  Allison, who’d been casting me sidelong glances in between cautiously stepping over exposed tree roots, also had been following my train of thought. Her words came clearly to me now as we stepped into an open area of the forest: He mentioned releasing his sister, Sam.

  A sister who was presently trapped within me. A blessing and a curse, surely. A blessing because her dark power fueled my now-dead body, and, in turn, gave me superhuman abilities. A curse because I was now being used by her. I was, in effect, serving as her host.

  I shuddered.

  But how could the medallions help his sister break free? I asked.

  Lordy, Sam, how would I know? Heck, just a few days ago I was a hair stylist/personal trainer/photographer/actor in Los Angeles.

  That’s a lot of slashes, I thought.

  It’s called “multiple streams of income.” Oh, and you can add another slash.

  Oh, yeah?

  Private investigator assistant.

  We’ll see, I thought. So, what good does it do us to find the medallion first?

  I don’t know, Sam, but it might give us some leverage. In the least, it could thwart his nefarious plan.

  I almost laughed at her word choice. Truth was, any plan that involved harming my son was nefarious. As we continued on, I wondered again how the medallions could be of use to the entity. After all, weren’t the golden discs inherently good? They were, after all, created to counteract the effects of vampirism.

  Unless, Allison said telepathically, all four medallions come together. Perhaps then they can be used for evil. After all, a gun can be used to either defend or to murder.

  I looked at her. “That was shockingly erudite,” I said.

  “I have my moments,” she beamed.

  “What’re you two talking about?” asked Kingsley, pausing and looking back. His long hair flung water everywhere, not that it mattered. We were in the open again and rain was literally driving directly into our faces.

  “Girl talk,” I said sweetly.

  “Fine,” he said irritably. “Looks like we’re here.”

  Indeed, I could now hear the pounding of the surf, of water exploding against rocks. The hiss of retreating foam. We were at the north end of the island, near what appeared to be a straight drop down into the ocean below. Yes, the ocean was angry. The rain was angry.

  Hell, even I was a little angry.

  No, I was a lot angry.

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s find this goddamned medallion.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  We stood at the cliffs.

  My jacket flapped crazily. My jeans were soaked through. Yet, I never felt so alive. Wind and rain were elemental. I often felt elemental, too, deeply connected to the rhythms of night and day.

  Allison, on the other hand, looked miserable. Her cheeks could have been two freshly-picked cherry tomatoes. She had also started sneezing. I needed to get my friend out of the storm—but to where, I didn’t yet know.

  “Where to, Sam?” Kingsley asked on cue. He seemed to be enjoying himself. This was the first time I’d seen the big gorilla since the ‘incident.’ If anything, he looked even sexier. Dammit. Apparently, wet clothing suited him well. I loved a man with meat on him, and Kingsley had just that. Thick and meaty equaled great cuddling.

  “Don’t know,” I said, although my voice might have been lost on the howling wind.

  The evening was coming on full dark—although never too dark for me. The ocean was alive to my eyes, foaming and frothing and churning. Salt spray exploded from below with each crashing wave. Some of that salt spray reached us. I tasted it on my lips, and then spat it out again.

  I didn’t know why I seemed to attract the medallions. Somehow, someway they seemed to find me.

  He fearlessly stepped to the edge of the cliff and leaned out, looking down. Massive and immovable, he looked a bit like a cliff himself, only hairier.

  “You said some others have been digging for it, too?” asked Kingsley.

  I caught his meaning. “You think we should start where they’ve been looking?”

  “It’s not a bad idea. After all, they might have narrowed things down for us.”

  “Except I don’t know where they’ve been digging—”

  “I heard someone mention some caves that were near the beach,” said Allison, cutting me off. “If I were shipwrecked and wanted to hide my gold, that’s where I would pick.”

  From here, I could see a wide swath of sand not too far away, where the cliff dropped down to meet the beach. Which is where Allison suddenly set off for, sneezing as she went.

  “I guess we follow her,” said Kingsley, chuckling lightly. He bowed in my direction and waved his hand. “After you, madam.”

  We followed Allison down the grassy slope, slogging through puddles and ducking against the wind. My new friend seemed oddly determined. And her mind, perhaps even more oddly, was closed off to me.

  I frowned at that as I followed her, as Kingsley’s sasquatch-like footfalls crashed through the tall grass behind me.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Miraculously, Allison led us directly to a cave.

  The opening was just far enough back from the shoreline to not be flooded, and yet still deep enough to provide shelter from the pounding rain. Once inside, as our breaths echoed—well, Kingsley’s and Allison’s breaths echoed—I pulled down my hood and asked Allison if she was doing okay.

  “Just cold,” she said. She smiled at me faintly, her mind still closed off.

  To me, she looked...distracted. And was blinking far too much. Perhaps she’d caught a cold.

  Perhaps.

  It was then that my inner alarm began sounding...as always a steady buzz just inside my ear. I looked again at Allison and she again smiled sweetly at me.

  “Well, now what?” asked Kingsley, hands on his hips and dripping everywhere. His big cartoon feet were buried in the soft sand inside the tunnel.

  “Here,” said Allison, pointing. She’d brought her cell phone and was now using its flashlight app.

  I didn’t need a smart phone flashlight app to see in the dark, and neither did Kingsley, but we were polite enough. She aimed the light toward the back of the deep cave, and revealed something that none of us were too surprised to see: digging tools. Shovels and picks and strainers. It looked like a looter’s hangout.

  Rocks were piled up back there, too, many of which had been moved. Yes, someone was looking for something here, and, by all appearances, had been doing so for quite some time.

  Kingsley inspected the area with Allison. I didn’t. Instead, I closed my eyes and did
my best to block out their voices, which seemed to echo everywhere at once. I kept my eyes closed and turned in a small circle. I lowered my hands and opened my palms. I breathed deeply, slowly, focusing.

  Focusing...

  Focusing on the medallion, as if it existed, as if it really could be here in the tunnel.

  I didn’t know how to find something that was hidden. After all, I’d only stumbled upon the second medallion in old Charlie’s mobile home quite by accident. Back then, I had closed my eyes, like I was doing now, and the medallion just appeared to me, without effort—

  I gasped.

  There it was.

  Burning in my mind’s eye.

  Clearly.

  And it wasn’t that far away.

  Except, of course, it most certainly wasn’t in the tunnel.

  I opened my eyes and headed out of the cave...and toward the crashing surf.

  Chapter Forty-six

  I looked out over the dark ocean.

  Tiny filaments of light brought it all to life for me, illuminating what should have been complete blackness. I stood there at the edge of the foaming surf, which occasionally washed over my now-ruined sneakers. Since I was already soaked to the bone, I didn’t bother removing my clothes, including my shoes.

  Kingsley came up behind me. Amazingly, I could smell a combination of nice cologne and something musky. Something wolfish, no doubt. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “Is it out there?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How far?”

  “Far enough that I need to swim.”

  “Where, exactly?”

  “An underwater cave.”

  “Are you going to get it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need my help?”

  “No.”

  “Do you love me?”

  I opened my mouth, stunned by the question. Leave it to the expert litigator to drop a bomb on an unsuspecting witness up on a theoretical witness stand. “No,” I said. “At least, not like I used to.”

  “You still love me, but differently?”