A Trace of Moonlight

by Allison Pang

  And yet there was something seductive about the blood as it slipped past my feet. Hungry. Angry. The succubus it had belonged to was no longer alive, but her sorrow and regret and brilliant fury were seeping all around us.

  And I could tap into it. “Let’s see what you’re afraid of, shall we?”

  I called the Dreaming power to me. While it wasn’t quite the same as actually being in the Dreaming itself, I had a hell of a lot more control this time around.

  I felt a tug on that little bond with Ion. Now, I thought back at it.

  But Maurice wasn’t going to let us walk over him quite yet. He stood up to face me, the tattered remains of his shirt black and sticky against the slash in his abdomen.

  “I killed your mother, you know. Watched her shatter on the windshield. Heard you whimpering inside.” His mouth twisted mockingly, ugly and hard. “I didn’t know who she was at the time . . . or who you were, for that matter. But I knew what she had.”

  The words cut, but like everything else about him, it was an illusion, meant to disarm. To knock me off balance. And I’d already made peace with my mother. I wasn’t going to drag her memory in here.

  “Too easy. If so, why not take it from her when she died?” I took a step toward him. “For someone who makes such a big stink about power, you seem to have so very little.”

  Manipulation was his talent, but in a direct confrontation, it wasn’t going to help.

  Blood trickled from his mouth when he coughed. A momentary sense of panic ran through me. Bad enough if I became stuck in this heinous place without an immediate way out, but I also had to keep Maurice alive long enough for Nobu to collect him as the Tithe.

  “I think you’re afraid of death. But most of all, I think you’re afraid of being forgotten.” I gestured toward the plant at his feet. “Trying to remake the essence of the CrossRoads so nobody will ever forget you? Pathetic.” Then I spoke softy, “You want to see what I’m afraid of? You’re welcome to it. All of it . . .”

  My sharks exploded into being, shoving their way from the Dreaming into this Shadow Realm, buoyed by the succubus blood that allowed them to manifest. They circled us, and I reached out, my fingers casually sliding over a dorsal fin.

  There was no water here, and yet they glided easily, dark eyes rolling as they passed by. “It took me a while to figure it out. But there’s something rather freeing about accepting your fears. They’re not always helpful, but fear can also keep us whole.”

  “Spare me your platitudes, girl.” Maurice’s eyes became dull. “You’re stalling.”

  “No.” I snapped my fingers and the sharks shot toward him, mouths open and eager. One actually managed to snag him on the shoulder, yanking him back several steps. He cried out, a crimson spatter crossing the floor.

  Another one, a hammerhead, darted forward to circle him, its belly scraping over his head. A rivulet of Maurice’s blood mingled into that of the succubus and I was plunged into visions not my own . . .

  . . . Brystion whimpering beneath my foot as I sliced through his antlers and cut out his eyes . . .

  . . . Moira on her knees before me, weeping and naked.

  . . . Benjamin hanging from the ceiling, screaming as I pulled out his feathers . . .

  Fury erupted within me, overtaking all my senses. My sharks reacting by converging upon Maurice in a frenzy of flesh and teeth and the need to slaughter. Detached, I barely reacted when the shredded remains of his hands bounced past my feet.

  “Abby.” Ion’s voice cut through my own inner madness. “Call them off. Abby . . .”

  “Why? This is what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it?” The sharks spread out, flanking the now balled-up Maurice.

  The incubus emerged from the shadows above me, his antlered form feral and terrifying. “This isn’t you. His hatred is flooding the Shadow Realm.” He laid a clawed hand on my shoulder even as he gestured at Maurice, a glittering bubble of a shield encircling him. “I can feel it, Abby. Sorry it took me so long to find you . . .”

  I glared at him. “What else are we supposed to do? We can’t let him get away with this!”

  “Call off the sharks. Ease down.”

  “But—”

  “If you don’t, I will . . . and it won’t be pleasant.” A flicker of regret crossed his face. “Don’t make me do that. Please.”

  The truth of his words rang hollow in my ears. He’d do it. And I didn’t want to be that person. I swallowed hard, pulling the nightmares back inside. Pulling them into me, my anger and angst weaving back into my psyche, where it belonged.

  Maurice lay in a ball, his breath shallow, his arm stumps over his head. He wouldn’t make it through the next five minutes, let alone long enough for us to figure out a way out of here.

  Brystion sighed, his tail flicking in irritation. “We need his soul for the Tithe. He’s no good to anyone dead.” He stomped a hoof. “I’ll have to take it.”

  No. No. No. No. My inner voice was screaming at the thought of having that man’s essence inside the incubus.

  Wondering if we had any other way.

  Which we didn’t.

  He’d never done this before—not since I’d known him, anyway. The fear that it would change him forever remained written in every quick movement he made.

  And in the end, Brystion knelt gently beside the rattling husk of a body. Maurice’s chest rose and fell in a shallow slowness.

  “Open the Door, Maurice,” he coaxed. “Open the Door so we may leave.”

  The old man cracked an eye, his face wrinkled and worn. “Go fuck yourself, incubus. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

  “Yes. You should have.” Brystion bent lower, and the flush of lust fluttered at the base of my spine as a wash of heat filled the room, the intensity magnified by the succubus blood still coating the place. I bit down on my lower lip as I remained rooted to the spot, staring in fascinated horror.

  The antlered head lowered until his dark lips nearly touched Maurice’s mouth. The old man struggled feebly, but Brystion merely pressed one hand down on his chest and he stilled.

  Regret filled the dark shadows of Ion’s face, a shiver running over his ebony skin.

  I wanted to turn away. Some memories were not worth keeping. But if he would do it, then I would bear witness.

  The incubus spared one last haunted look at me before putting his mouth to the old man’s and sucking in a deep breath.

  Maurice shuddered once, his eyes cracking open at the end. But they weren’t focused on anything, dead reflections in a stagnant pool of a life that had rotted away long ago. A life that ended in a broken hole surrounded by broken dreams.

  Brystion’s lifted his head, his mouth parted . . . and the spiderweb of Maurice’s soul came with it. I’m not sure what I was expecting. A light, perhaps. Something out of that movie Ghost. But this was dark and runny and tinged a deep red.

  The incubus looked distinctly uncomfortable, his sides heaving as though he wanted to gag. I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, my gaze cold as Maurice slipped away without a word.

  Ion moved away from me abruptly, his whole body shivering. “Don’t touch me, Abby.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here. Nobu will know what to do with . . . it.” I hesitated on the last word, glancing down at the husk of Maurice’s body. “Should we take him with us?”

  Brystion’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “Only if I have to. Grab the Key.”

  Having witnessed what I did, I’d forgotten all about our main objective. I knelt, gingerly picking up the amulet. The clasp was still tied behind his neck, but it slid apart with an easy click.

  “Where’s the Door? We’ll need to take the sapling too.” I shook my head at it. “There’s something wrong with its . . . song. It needs sunlight and to get the hell out of here.” I gave him a wan smile. “Like us.”

  Something that looked oddly like panic crossed his face. “I think we fucked up, Abby.”

  “How so? I’ll ju
st throw the Key on and it will be like old times. I’ll open the Door and off we go, right?”

  He shook his head. “But you’re a Shadow Self, Abby. Your real body is out there.”

  I froze. “Well, that’s a rather conveniently shitty loophole. But I’m not staying in here.” I picked up the pot with the sapling and thrust it into his arms. “You take this. I don’t think I have the power to pull it into the Dreaming and back to reality.”

  “No. You don’t. Hell, I’m not sure you even can pull the Key with you.”

  “Figures.” I put on the necklace, frowning when nothing happened. “Um. Shouldn’t this be glowing? Doing something?”

  Brystion chuckled grimly, tracing a clawed finger over the silver edge of the amulet. A scarce heartbeat later and he’d palmed it, snatching it from my neck.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Panic lanced through my chest, the irrational fear of being left behind here in the dark gibbering like a mad thing in my mind.

  “You’re a Shadow, Abby. You can’t use it.”

  “Then how the hell do we get out of here?” I glanced up at him. “You can, right? Just pop straight into the Dreaming and somehow pull me along?”

  “This isn’t a Dream. You were able to pull me here because the succubus blood allowed you to use your Dreaming powers . . . and because of the TouchStone bond. Without a way back, I’m stuck here as much as you.”

  I stared at him, horror filling me with a sick sense of dread. “Give me that.” I tugged at the Key, ignoring the bemused look he shot me as I tied it around his neck.

  “It won’t work for me, Abby. The Key only works for mortals, you know that . . .” His words trailed away as the Key flared to life with an immediate blue glow. “This isn’t possible.”

  “You’re carrying the soul of the last bearer,” I pointed out dryly. “I don’t know if that technically counts as dead or not, but the point is, if it requires a mortal soul to be its anchor . . . well, you’ve got one now.”

  The incubus looked as though he was going to be sick as he strode over to the wall, clutching the necklace between tight fingers. “I won’t leave you here.”

  “You won’t have to.” I swallowed hard. “You can open the Door to anywhere . . .”

  “Doors don’t open on the Dreaming,” he said. “For very good reason. I can take you to the CrossRoads. Sonja can take you the rest of the way to your Dreaming Heart.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  His face grew grim. “I don’t want what I have in me anywhere near your Heart. Trust me on that.”

  It wasn’t a perfect solution, but at least I wouldn’t be stuck here with a half-eaten corpse and the faded nightmares of a madman. “Guess that will have to do.”

  He nodded once. “I’ll try to send you there, but Abby, whatever you do, don’t move until I or Sonja come for you. If you step off the CrossRoads . . .”

  “I know. I won’t.” I squeezed his hand, his fingers oddly cold and clammy as they met mine. “Let’s do this before we run out of time.”

  He bent down, but didn’t kiss me. His forehead pressed against mine. “I will find you,” he murmured. “I swear it. Wait for me.”

  “Like I have a choice?”

  He snorted and backed up, concentration screwing up his face. Immediately the far wall lit up with a silver glow, the edges of a Door coming to life.

  “It was like a radio dial when I used it,” I noted. “Ask it for a safe place to send me.”

  He frowned and I could feel the uncertainty thrumming down our TouchStone bond, echoed in the sickly EarthSong of the sapling he clutched to his chest. Had the tune changed at all? It seemed curious, but there was still an indifferent bent that had me cringing.

  The Door crackled. “Go,” he murmured. “I’ll find you, love.”

  My face flushed at the endearment, but there wasn’t any more time to waste. I didn’t spare a backward glance, bolting through the silver gateway. I was more than ready to be out of this hellhole.

  A few steps later and the familiar warmth of the CrossRoads washed over me, silver dust stirring at my feet. Behind me the Door vanished, the light fading away. I knew the Door itself was still there, but without the Key it would only take me to wherever it was originally supposed to go. Not back to Ion, certainly.

  My only option was to sit here and wait. Which sucked.

  “One of these days I’ll actually think things through,” I muttered.

  And then pain lanced through me with a violent rush. I was being split in half, my heart shredded and pulled out of my lungs. A rush of black swept over me, the CrossRoads disappearing as I slipped into oblivion.

  Twenty-one

  Hands shook me awake, the jarring sense of being slammed into my own body an aching jolt, as though I’d face planted on the pavement of a New York City crosswalk.

  “Wake up, Abby. Wake up!” Talivar? Yes, that was Talivar.

  I blinked rapidly. The sudden onset of lethargy sweeping through my limbs indicated I’d had some sort of seizure.

  It’s been a while, my inner voice pointed out snidely. Undoubtedly I was due to wet my pants again soon.

  I rolled to my side, the soft grass pressing into my cheek as I gagged noisily into my fist. The sting of bile coated my tongue as my eyes finally fluttered open enough for me to get my bearings.

  But for a moment I wished I hadn’t.

  “What’s going on?” I cringed at the slur in my words as I struggled to sit up. Talivar propped an arm beneath me, and held a wineskin to my lips. I grimaced at the sour taste, sipping it slow.

  “You seized.” He glanced over his shoulder. “But it’s more than that. Something’s happened. Some sort of earthquake? I don’t know.”

  “Oh.” My head swam with that particular implication. I’d never had a seizure while in the Dreaming before. I shuddered. “I feel like I’ve been dropped off a ten-story building.”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t killed!” Sonja snapped beside me, her fingers rolling over my face to pry my eyelids open further. Satisfied, she crouched over me, wings mantled to shield me from whatever was happening.

  My arms shook as I pushed past her, my head spinning and dizzy. The ground spun helpfully below me, and I swallowed another round of nausea.

  “This is the part where you all stop keeping secrets and tell me what’s going on.”

  I gently shoved her wings out of the way, biting back a cry as I saw Brystion prone upon the ground, the sapling lying in a pile of dirt beside him.

  “Move!” I rolled onto shaky legs, apologizing internally for ignoring the incubus as I scooped up the plant, quickly shoveling the soil into the pot. The EarthSong was dim, but grew louder as I touched it. The tone remained curious, with a slightly sordid flavor to it.

  I clutched the pot to my chest, and looked up to see Sonja and Talivar staring at me. “It’s the Tree. It’s the last bit of Eildon Tree. Can’t you hear it?”

  Talivar had told me the Tree had sung to him as a child but it wasn’t as loud anymore, so maybe he couldn’t, but still. I glanced down at Ion, his dark hair spread out like a silken wave, the bells in his hair dangling from the tangled braid. I frowned. His limbs were twitching, his mouth open. At his neck, the Key winked in the remaining afternoon light, but it was a sickly thing, the blue a faded semblance of its former glory.

  “What happened?” I stroked his cheek, tearing off a shred of my T-shirt to wipe his face. “Why he is like this?”

  “He came through the Door and said he’d had to leave you behind . . . and then he passed out. He’s been like this ever since.” Sonja glared at me. “What the fuck happened in there? How can he be wearing the Key?”

  Talivar blanched. “He’s wearing the Key?”

  “Know of any other glowing amulets lying about? He’s got Maurice’s soul . . . I think that’s why he’s able to wear it.”

  Sonja nodded in sudden understanding. “And you couldn’t because you weren’t really there.”

&
nbsp; “Bingo. But we have to get him to the Tree, to Melanie. The sapling is our only chance now. Come on—help me get him on a horse.”

  Before Talivar could respond, the ground shifted beneath us, echoed by a crack of thunder. The wind picked up with a howl, tearing at my clothes like the sobbing of the damned.

  The dogs began turning around in rapid circles, baying madly. Everything around us was filled with the rearing of pitch-black horses and rolling eyes, and deadly hooves. I threw myself on top of Ion’s prone form, the grass beneath my hands wilting into crisp piles of ash.

  “What’s happening?” My voice whisked away into the wailing of the wind. The hillside opened up with a rumble. Mud and rocks tumbled past me as I clung to Ion’s form, my heels digging into the dirt. Sonja snatched my wrist, struggling to keep me from rolling into the newly formed sinkhole.

  “The CrossRoads . . . breaking . . .” Talivar’s words were eaten, muffled against the ringing of my ears. Beside me, Sonja’s wings flared open for balance as she grasped her brother’s arm. Together, we pulled his still-unconscious body up and over to sturdier ground, keeping a tight hold on the sapling.

  Talivar had mounted his black stallion, fighting for control as it bucked against his touch. His mouth grimaced tight, his heels dropped low as he clung to its back like a burr. “. . . will . . . submit . . . to me.”

  Around us the other Hunters were doing no better with their own horses. Another crack and a rumble and this time the ground refused to stop shaking. The Door to Maurice’s Shadow Realm flared to life, sparks bursting from it in a silver radiance before collapsing in on itself with a wail.

  “We have to go, Abby!” Sonja shrieked, launching herself to her feet. The white mare I’d ridden on before was hobbled, yanking hard on its lead as it tried to get away. Sonja grabbed the halter and threw a piece of someone’s torn cloak over the mare’s eyes so she quieted.