Death's Primordial Kiss (The Silvered Moon Diaries Book 1)

by Romarin Demetri

  “There will plenty of time for that later,” I said. “Are you coming back for the holiday?”

  “Time will tell,” Grandmara said, “Jonathon might need extra help with the wedding, and you know that I can’t let my children do everything by themselves when it comes to large events. And Carly doesn’t have a mom anymore, so I’m trying to be the best MIL I can.

  “You just want to adopt everyone don’t you?” Helaine appeared to ask Grandmara her question.

  “That’s how the best families thrive,” she replied, hugging Helaine tightly. “I’m so proud of you two. My girls.”

  I always felt a tinge of guilt for being the favorite child and tonight was no exception.

  I was handed flowers by Grandpa Dave, whom Grandmara gladly let past her. She was the one who raised his daughter, my mom, and he got along well with everyone apart from my dad. Martial arts wasn’t Dave’s thing, but he always came out to support me.

  “I couldn’t be prouder,” he said, the only British accent in the family breaking up the plainer phrases of me, Mom, and Grandmara.

  “Thanks, Grandpa,” I said.

  “Congrats,” came a voice from my right.

  “Thank you.” I forced the kid with a red belt on into a side-hug, to which he resisted at first, until he saw Grandmara with her camera out, ready to snap a picture for Grandpa Dennis back in New York.

  We gladly posed for our Grandmara.

  “When do you test next, Grayson?” Grandmara asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging mostly with his stormy blue eyes, though his shoulders slouched a little. “I’m told I’m not ready yet.”

  “Traditionally, martial artists did not test for their black belts until they were eighteen anyway,” my mom told him. “You have time, Gray.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Grandmara told him with a smile.

  I was told three things when I was two years old and got a brother. One: Don’t dress him in your clothes against his will; Two: Don’t try to change his emotions; and Three: Protect him at all costs, you only get one.

  My mother couldn’t change others’ emotions, but she had a completely human way of sticking up for people, as I had just seen her do, vouching for tradition and not making Gray feel rushed. Grandmara meant well—I felt it—but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a reason my mom was from the states and lived in the UK. The two of them certainly had different parenting styles.

  Gray didn’t remind me vividly of either of my parents, but everyone always said I was the spitting image of my father. If he reminded me of anyone, Gray was most like Grandpa Dave with an unimposing and somewhat grumpy attitude, just without an interest in being a witch. He was comfortable as a human, a world that both of my parents were raised in.

  I saw Helaine with her parents—and Jared—but Brittany didn’t leave the house for this. My heart sunk into my stomach sometimes when I thought of her.

  I’m proud of you, I heard, and turned to see Helaine’s father looking my way.

  Thanks, Uncle Yves, I thought back, as he sent a single smile in my direction, not wanting to interrupt me. No doubt, Grandmara had already forced a few sentences out of Helaine’s usually quiet father before the ceremony began.

  I turned to see Travis and Aunt Jen taking turns snapping pictures with Emmy and Esper, the twins still dressed in their uniforms, and I couldn’t help but read their emotions to see how things were going now that they were in their second year of separation. I knew how everyone felt about the divorce—the twins, their mom, their dad—but I wasn’t sure what actually drove a rift between them. And though the feelings of hostility were unmistakable, it wasn’t my business.

  “Want me to take one of you as a group?” I asked, walking over to the most estranged family I currently knew.

  He nodded.

  She half-smiled.

  Relief surrounded Emmy and Esper like a halo.

  I snapped the picture quickly. Had I not taken it, I knew no one else would have. Their happy family of four was no longer, but I knew the twins would want a picture of this moment someday, and as memories often do, I hoped that when they looked back on this snapshot, that it would become a happier moment than it was now.

  In an hour, the class was over with and I was exhausted after disinfecting the mats with sweet-smelling lemongrass soap. After everyone filed out from the ceremony I checked that the back door to the school was locked and that the chairs were put away. I peeked into the office to find the Grandmaster before I left.

  “Hey, dad?”

  “Hey, Rose?” he answered back. “I could tell something was bothering you. What is it?”

  I took the seat in front of his desk, the scent of pine boards surrounding me, and I fixated a moment on the shelf behind him. The stockpile of color belts meant nothing until splinters were left on the mat and he was the one to tie them around the student who earned it.

  “I’m having second thoughts about going through with initiation.”

  It sounded like a confession, and it couldn’t have been any more obvious that it was.

  He just looked at me and let me talk, sitting calmly with his hands and calloused knuckles on the desk, staring back at me with my own violet eyes.

  “It’s… I can sense how important it is for Helaine. She needs to prove to people that she’s her own person. She has to be in the Coven, and if I get in, I know there’s no way she will.”

  “And why is that?” He asked.

  “I know about the prophecy.”

  “Dave,” he stated, sitting back in his chair now.

  “I agree with him telling me that my destiny is to be an... enigma…” It was still so weird. “I have to right to know.”

  “This is exactly why we didn’t want you to,” he said, and as always, he had allowed me to prove my own point. “You risk sacrificing your future, something you wanted ever since you saw the tryouts at six years old. Do you think it’s guaranteed to you and that you can make it into the Coven without even auditioning?”

  “You make it sound like self-sabotage.”

  “It is, Rose. Even if something is prophesied you have to make the effort. Helaine will find her own way, and you need to as well. Your paths will cross if it’s meant to be, and whatever will happen is already set in motion.”

  “Do you think she will forgive me, for ruining her chance at being the person she wanted to be when she grew up?”

  “Yes,” he said pointedly. “To get to initiation, you’re going to have to push her feelings concerning the Coven aside. I think the strongest amalgam our world has ever seen can handle that.”

  “Strongest amalgam?” I asked. “Not just witch?”

  “Dave needs to give more credit to your Changeling side,” dad said with a smile. “It has just as much to do with you being a force for good as your water witch heritage does. Don’t let any feelings get in the way of this. They’ll be plenty of time after you’re initiated to embrace your powers as an empath. Now is the time to be a warrior, a calm and steady force that channels the balance of water.”

  Now is the time to be a warrior, resonated through my thoughts.

  “Thank you for the advice, Sir,” I said standing up with a smile.

  “Your acceptance letter is at home on the table waiting for you,” my dad told me. “Lotus Pentacle and everything.”

  “It’s an acceptance letter for sure?”

  “Your mom opened it.” He smirked and the lines near his eyes grinned. “Just like you would have.”

  “I’ll see you at home. I’m going to walk and sort through some things.”

  “You’re going to think it out?”

  “No, I was taught to clear my head when there was too much going on in it.”

  I bowed to him, grabbed my bag from the locker room, and set off for home.

  The clouds shifted every so often above the London streets, showing me the stars that had set my path in motion eighteen years ago, and unlike the anticipation of all these
events starting, tonight, the celestial bodies calmed me, and not a car horn, a neon scrolling advert, or a loud song from a restaurant could distract me from my inner peace.

  Tonight I had proved that I was a warrior, and I needed to take that to the auditions with me. Dave had said it, and so did my dad: it was my destiny to be a great amalgam, but I had to do the work to make it happen. I was going to be on The London Coven, and no one was getting in my way.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Calling Card

  Helaine

  Flying down the stairwell was the best way I knew how to ditch my security detail, but the sound of my heavy wedged boots was not the most covert. It wasn’t just about height—it was about convenience. I had hidden these shoes in my room when I found out that the guard started counting my pairs at the door. Living in the hub of social services for The Supernatural London Underground gave me the advantage of getting lost in the other people who came and went daily. We temporarily housed transients in the floors above the offices, and my coveted apartment complex made up a third of the building. Our job assistance, psychology program, and peer groups were held here. A few offices were on the second floor for non-retail shops, though Travis was always good to sell you one of his novels if you wandered into his. The only place that had more going on in it was Block Thirteen, our above-ground social and shopping center that I hadn’t been to in ages.

  I was on my way to Rose’s, ready to gossip about the other candidates we would meet tomorrow, when I noticed a lone figure standing near the entrance, reading the directory on the wall. It was mostly his height I found intriguing, or maybe it was in the relaxed manner in which he stood, as if he wouldn’t dare utter a word to me in the event that I approached. He was lost in his own world when I had to live in only one of the busiest ones there was. Should I help him, or get on with my most recent freedom?

  I pocketed my keys into my fitted brown jacket (one that wasn’t as warm as it was stylish) and glanced again at the stranger who seemed to stay still and sharp, though everyone was moving around him in a blur, not offering to help.

  His gaze was now fused to the usually invisible directory. I had the feeling that he had already found the name he was looking for but gave into the madness as he settled to read it over and over again. You didn’t wander into the Hallowed Locus if you were normal.

  I had never been stuck between a fit guy and a career path before, but at least I wasn’t stuck in the confines of my room anymore. Choices, choices.

  I would be late to Roses’s, but it was common decency to help a lost stranger who was more than decent looking. Don’t get me wrong; a little old lady would have made me just as tardy. I postponed my renewed freedom and walked over to him, bumping passed a girl in black and muttering excuse me. I was inarguably distracted. Even with his head hung low, he seemed to grow taller as I got closer. My already short height shrunk in the shadow of his. This was definitely a stranger I needed to introduce myself to before any of the other girls my age did.

  “Are you lost?” As he turned to face me I didn’t know if I should be chirpsing with him so soon even though everything in me screamed that I should.

  “I have been awhile,” he answered in a plain accent (possibly American like Rose’s) leering down at me with, narrow sky blue eyes. I noticed a white scar above his right one. I tried to figure out if he should be familiar by glancing at him much too long before introducing myself. His hair was mostly auburn, a messy combination of cowlicks that varied from medium brown to almost obsidian, the kind of hair that was no stranger to a stylist’s chair. There was something cool (intriguingly aloof and nonchalant) about him, in the way he didn’t want to admit he was up to something. Anytime someone screamed trouble, I listened. Speak to me.

  “Helaine,” I said, reaching out a hand, “That’s my name.”

  “Jaime,” he replied, reaching out his own right hand. He looked at me with narrowed eyes again as I instinctively crossed my left hand below my right elbow, nodding my head to the floor in a teensy bow. Years of martial arts training made me do loads of things that left a strange impression on others. “That’s mine.”

  He had to be from America somewhere with his accent. Sometimes we had a vocabulary barrier with people from over there, but I tried not to use anything overly British.

  And no French either, I lamented. Speaking only French was my favorite way to be an arsehole.

  Even though he kept a distance from me, tall, auburn, and handsome smelled faintly like spicy deodorant or aftershave, the kind you wear when you don’t want to admit you’re overdoing it. The kind you spray on the inside of your clothes if you didn’t have the time or a want to do laundry, or if you’ve been traveling without time to take a real shower.

  “I live in the flats here and should be able to help,” I handed back. There was a pale blue envelope in his left hand. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Travis Juliet.”

  “Second floor,” I said. He was probably a fanboy, and Travis always welcomed people who would enthuse about his life’s work. I had the feeling he liked having his office in such a public place, should trouble arrive from his highly public persona, but he was immortal (a Luison) and no one could really hurt him, though plenty of people had tried. “He should be here. He’s always here,” I said, stopping my eyes mid-roll.

  Jaime looked back at me, unaffected and blatantly unexcited. And ah, incredibly cool.

  “Thank you,” he offered. “I haven't been here before, would you mind showing me the way?”

  “Not at all,” I said. It wasn't like I had to be studying for auditions with Rose or going over our competition.

  “Beats staring at my scar?”

  “Star—”

  I pursed my lips together. I had been staring at the scar above the sparkling crystal of his right eye. There went the façade of composure I clung to by looking only at his face.

  “There's a stairwell at the end of this hall for the second-floor offices,” I said. “The opposite side of the building is an apartment complex, and you can't get anywhere passed the mirror wall without a key fob. The Hallowed Locus houses people for a short time, something you should look into if you are staying. Do you think you’ll be here awhile?”

  “Depends,” he said, broad shoulders shrugging under his red jacket, giving me the impression that he didn’t have anywhere to stay. I’d seen just about everything before.

  “Well if you do end up wanting to stay here, anyone can give you information, just ask. Follow me.”

  I walked with him in silence to the stairwell, but there was no way I would be turning my back to a stranger on a stairway, so I followed him up. I had no idea what he wanted or why he was here, and without pressing he wouldn’t be so quick to tell me. Little did Jaime know, I was a brilliant presser.

  I thought that he might have been past school age, so I skipped the part about classrooms on the third floor where Rose and I had gone to school at.

  After an awkward silence, stopping at the top of the stairs in a hallway that smelled like old books, I asked a question I figured he wouldn’t give me an answer to.

  “Travis’s office is the last on the left. Are you a fan?”

  “Something like that,” he said, to which I’d try again. When I was in the Coven, people would have to answer my questions.

  “How do you know Travis?” I pressed harder.

  Outside the office, Jaime turned towards me, his head moving to the side slightly, and just when I thought a smile would appear—no smile. He pulled the card from the envelope and flashed it in my direction.

  The card had building blocks on it, and an ugly little cartoon baby with a whirl of hair on its otherwise bald head, and said: “It's a Boy.”

  This was some kind of superfan gone wrong, and my judgment was clearly wrong in helping him. He seemed a tinge malicious, and I guessed in taking the card literally, that Travis had knocked up Jaime’s long-time girlfriend or something, and he was here to get revenge
. Whatever, it's not like he could murder Travis or anything. Travis could heal his way out of anything he couldn’t talk his way out of.

  “I don't think I understand,” I told Jaime, ready to book it down the hall.

  “Oh, he’s my dad.”

  “Your what?” I nearly yelled.

  “You asked, Helaine,” he said with a wicked grin before entering the office without knocking. That greeting card was twenty years overdue.

  Well, no, I hadn’t seen this before.

  I doubted Travis knew about him from the way Jaime dropped his bombshell. If this was the truth, then the twins would not be taking the wreckage of this well, especially Emmy.

  Whoever this stranger was, I was far too busy at the moment to become properly involved. This was messier than anything that had been printed in The Chatting Cat this year, and as much as I wanted to eavesdrop, I needed to get to Rose’s to do research on the other elemental candidates.

  I hated to turn on my heel and climb back down the stairs, but I did.

  Rose lived in a white house that was a few blocks over, and in a quarter of an hour, I was in the part of the city where humans and supernatural people lived together in harmony—mostly.

  It was a pristine semi-detached house, and unlike mine, it was conventional, human even.

  I knocked at the door and Rose’s mom answered it.

  “Aunt Row!”

  “Hey sweetheart, come on in.” Row was my aunt by choice, not blood, so naturally, we looked nothing alike. She had light blonde hair—same as Rose—and trademark stormy blue Weltier witch family eyes. Our extended families were hard to navigate when you put together our parents and their friends (Travis was part of that after all), and any boy I ever brought to family dinners or parties was thoroughly perplexed and intimidated. Both of Rose’s parents had been adopted and were especially acquainted with the universal truth that you could, in fact, pick your family.

  She was wearing her nametag from The Hallowed Locus that proclaimed, “Dr. Avereis,” and must have left shortly before I had. We could have walked together, which I would have loved, but Jaime had both interrupted and flabbergasted me instead. Row was easy to talk to. Then again, it was her job as a psychologist.