Moonlight Magic

by Alexander, K. R.

  His face contorted, clenching his jaw until the muscles rippled. “Of course I love you.” A gasp like he was speaking through a mortal wound.

  “Zar, I’m still here. I wasn’t in that fire. I wasn’t under those teeth. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You don’t know that,” Same voice, torn and jagged as broken glass.

  “As long as we’re here we have to keep living, which means loving each other and staying—” I reached again, but Zar leapt to his feet, dodging the touch. By the time I was on my own feet, he was already vanishing among gloom of the trees. “Zar, please…”

  Racing paws churned through the sparse brush and I spun to see a skinny red wolf flying at me.

  I hadn’t even recovered from the first shock of fear when Andrew bounded into my face, licking away tears, and I dropped back to my knees.

  Chapter 22

  “The break wasn’t clean. They hadn’t sawed it partway or anything.”

  “Must’ve been a magic trap. Only way to explain why it didn’t blow for Isaac or Zar.”

  “But Cassia had crossed it already. It still doesn’t make sense.”

  “Some other explanation does? Had to have been rigged for her. Don’t you think, princess?”

  I shook my head, nodded, watching the sky as we jogged along the edge of the loch, a mere hundred yards from parking. It was past twilight, raining, and, unless Calum and Frim were very late diners, or very patient, it was also the end of the trail.

  Still, we had to try.

  Maybe odd, but I hadn’t even thought about the bridge breaking. Obviously it had been somehow set by the mages. What difference did it make? Bruises, wet clothes, soaking shoes, vanished light, my lost phone and notebook, and mostly Zar weren’t leaving brain space to give a damn about the bridge.

  I had on Andrew’s coat. He ran ahead on four feet. Isaac led me with the light on his phone.

  Ours were the last vehicles in the lot. Through discussion of the bridge and route to the village of Lanlith, we piled into our respective places. Zar and I first changed into what spares we had in the caravan. I also brushed and pulled back my hair which was thankfully well on the way to dry. Not exactly the sort of shower I’d needed. I layered my tops, pulling on the only sweater I’d thought to bring in this last return trip from Portland, and gave Andrew back his coat.

  With the roundabout route we had to drive, then parking and checking all three village pubs, it was 8:30 p.m. before a publican in The Black Bull informed me that yes, there had indeed been a man with a badger in that evening.

  “Oh, aye. He and a scruffy fellow with him left half an hour ago,” he said cheerfully.

  The place was still busy with locals downing pints at the bar, mostly middle-aged men with thick regional accents, and a few passing tourists on their ways out after dinner. Most of the main tables were quiet, though.

  I sank down at the edge of a long booth in the front window. I would like to say I sat “and.” That would be a lie. I simply sat. Blank, cold, damp, immobile. Sat and stared at the empty and recently wiped down tabletop of dark, reddish wood.

  A rugby game was on the TV above the bar, which gleamed with more dark wood and brass beer taps and colorful bottles on display in long rows. Men at the bar talked with each other more than followed the game, which volume was turned to a modest level. The place smelled of wood smoke, beer, fried food, and faintly of wet dog. A grizzled brown and white terrier lay below one of the men’s barstools, chin on a crossbar, sleeping despite the arrival of the wolves. Possibly deaf—it looked venerable.

  A fire flickered quietly in a massive stove hearth hinting at the pub’s own great age. The place had been built no more recently than the early 1800s. So much history in one room. Yet all we needed was to travel back in time half an hour.

  I shut my eyes, pressing my hand to built-in wood back of the booth. The stone and wood and spirits of the place slowed panicky breaths.

  It was a struggle to open my third eye and look at all. When I did, I saw nothing. A great, blank, empty nothing. Just at the edges, barely reaching my mind, came the faintest hint of laughter.

  It hadn’t been all that malicious, really. If we’d been skilled enough to find the bridge and bounce back from, or elude, the trap, all under the clock, maybe we’d have been worthy of a word with them. But no. One try. Now they’d blocked me, warded me out, and they wouldn’t be back for another word. They’d had their laugh and moved on.

  The nothing was that of scries past, of seeking and not finding, of asking and waiting in vain. Now it struck me it was the same nothing that had come with the scry into Cimbayrel. Only, in the fog and uncertainty and poor scry I’d not bothered about it. Nothing to see, right? No… Something to see that had been removed. A nothing created all along by two mages with the training of wild mages and the roving spirit of hired guns.

  Catch us if you can. Hardly as if they were afraid of us. But hardly as if they wanted to bother about us either. Would they tell their employer where we were?

  I watched the fire, thinking of the nothing, of it all being true, all starting to line up and make sense. They did use that stone circle in some capacity. And here were the two men behind scry blocks and feeds and reavers. But did it really help? We might have found everything if we’d only found them. Half an hour. Half an hour hanging between knowing and not knowing, answers versus more questions. Half an hour between life and death, failure and success, and we’d showed up on the wrong end of it.

  Kage was murmuring about how Jason could track anything. How we were wasting time. A few were involved in the argument, standing by the door, everyone giving me space, though Andrew watched me. It seemed Kage and others were of the opinion that we should set out on paw and foot to track the mages and their badger in the dark. Most were only waiting on me, telling him to clam up and see what I said.

  When did one get to stop being silver? When did one say that had been a good run but someone else should lead the hunt now?

  Jason stepped over, brows creased, tentative as he squatted down so he could look up at me.

  “Cassia? It’s not your fault. We’ll still find them.”

  I blinked and tried to focus on him. He looked so worried, almost scared, I offered my left hand, turning my palm up on my knee.

  Jason rested his left in mine, still watching my face while I looked at our hands.

  “You can change if you want to,” I said softly. All the others were watching us now. “You won’t find them. But it would be nice if someone had their scent. We could check Cimbayrel for it if you have their profile, couldn’t we?”

  Jason nodded. “Do you think they got in a car?”

  “No idea. Why don’t you have a go? Only you or Andrew can come in here in fur, and he just changed twice.” I looked up. “Andrew, would you please ask the barman where they were sitting? Hopefully it’s still empty. Kage, would you go outside with him so you can come back in? Maybe a couple others also? Gabriel? Jed? So we can keep Jason shielded, as invisible as possible? A slip leash would be good.”

  They hesitated as Jason asked, “Did you see anything? Or feel anything? You looked funny…”

  “I saw a bunch of nothing. The same nothing that’s been blocking me.”

  “Then these are the right people? If it’s the same?”

  “Other casters might be able to do that. But … I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet. These are almost certainly our guys. I’m just as convinced they’re hired. They would have taken us way more seriously if they had real stakes.”

  “Reckon they lured you here for another trap, though?” Kage asked. “Reavers waiting outside the door would be taking you serious.”

  “Fair enough. There may be repercussions for us being here. But not right this minute. Remember mundanes. No one would send reavers into a mundane village. Keeping reavers a secret is too important to their own free movement and efficient work.”

  “Stay in tonight,” Kage said.

  “What?
”

  “We should stay in the village tonight then,” Jason said. “Get a few rooms if we can.”

  “Oh… If there’s anything available. I don’t know… It’s so easy to track if we stay somewhere like a bed and breakfast.”

  “We don’t even know if we have the option,” Isaac said. “It’s a tiny place and still tourist season. I’ll call around. In the meantime we’ll see what Jason turns up.”

  “It could be that any scent trail is just leading us to an ambush,” Andrew said, frowning. “Looking at it all together doesn’t make tracking sound like a canny plan.”

  “No, he can track. It won’t go anywhere. Just get the scent.” I squeezed Jason’s hand. “Remember it. If at all possible. That’s what we need.”

  Looking a bit puzzled now, he nodded again and stood.

  They asked, called, brought in Jason, sniffed.

  I went on sitting. Only Zar didn’t have an assignment. He stood by the fire, still chilled as I was, or only trying to avoid all of us.

  A waitress came over to me and Andrew while Isaac was on the phone and Jason led others outside.

  “Can I start you with anything?” She seemed confused as she asked, glancing around to us in varied places and back on me, then Andrew, who had a way of catching eyes.

  It hadn’t dawned on me that we’d neglected to eat a proper meal all day.

  Andrew watched me through his glasses rather than answering her. Again, I wished they would stop. We were working together. Everything wasn’t my choice.

  “I guess… You don’t mind if we get dinner? The kitchen’s still open?”

  She assured me that it was so I told her there would be seven of us, and could we pull over another table to the end of this one?

  Andrew and Zar put everything in place while she went to get glasses and two large water carafes. Paper menus were already on the table with salt, pepper, malt vinegar, catchup, and brown sauce. Which is actually called brown sauce—as opposed to something one might write down if one couldn’t bother to look at a label.

  I left them for the bathroom and a very good hand and face washing session. Looking in the mirror… We really did need a bed and breakfast…

  I returned to find everyone back inside. Yes, Jason had walked out to the sidewalk and promptly stopped. The trail apparently vanished from every direction.

  “Not like they got in a car,” Kage said. “Like gone.”

  “But he did pick them up in here?” I asked.

  “Sure seemed like it.”

  Jason wagged.

  “That’s what matters. Any luck with rooms?”

  Isaac shook his head. “Only three places in town and they’re booked or not answering.”

  Gabriel and Zar had taken either side of the booth and slid to the insides. The rest all hovered, Jason sitting hunched like a vulture below the edge of the table. They were waiting to see where I would sit before the scramble for position.

  Isaac, spotting the situation, bowed out by sliding in next to Zar. I sat opposite him, beside Gabriel. Andrew shot into the chair by me, while Kage set up a howl about not sitting with his back to the room. Neither he nor Jed were willing to sit at the head of the table, leaving Jed in the chair by Isaac, his back to the fire, and Kage on his feet, growling.

  Jason crept below the table to rest his head in my lap—and apparently stand on Andrew’s feet as the latter swore at him and shoved.

  If Kage cared that much about not sitting out there why hadn’t he taken a booth seat two minutes ago when the field was wide open? Didn’t want to be boxed in either, I supposed. At least the booth was a long one. I slid over. Andrew followed from his chair to the booth. Kage took the chair, which still had its back to the door, but at least had one protected side and better visibility.

  I stroked Jason’s head. He’d followed me and sat down in the space between Isaac and Zar’s legs.

  Kage kept looking around. Andrew and Isaac were the only ones reading the menu. Gabriel asked what I wanted and suggested maybe he should just order for everyone.

  I longed to hug him, gush thanks, at the very least lean my head into his shoulder and fall asleep.

  “Thank you. I’d love the vegetable soup on the specials board.”

  “Sandwich? Anything else?”

  “Oh, no. They end up offering me extras.”

  The general atmosphere remained stretched until Gabriel ordered for us. Obviously, everyone was famished. They’d been “snacking” for days without what any of them considered a real meal. Today in particular had been confined to the bakery stop and snacks on hand. Even Kage was holding himself together, everyone waiting with set teeth for the dinner bell.

  The last time I’d sat down to a meal like this with them had been in the States. The last time with this configuration had been in Germany on the night before our castle raid. A mix of emotions even more tangled than these relationships left me breathless, culminating in an extra flood of gratitude for Gabriel.

  As soon as he had ordered and the wide-eyed server left us, everyone visibly relaxed around the table. Even Jason sighed and leaned into my knees as if weak with relief. Kage did the silent vow in thanks. Jed shut his eyes and bowed his chin as if relieved of a terrible burden. Andrew poured water and Isaac passed glasses around.

  Because this was what Gabriel requested:

  Six orders of shepherd’s pie.

  Six glen burgers with sweet potato chips—no onion.

  Five rare steaks—no sides.

  Five orders of haggis, neeps, and tatties.

  Two fish and chips.

  One pan-seared haddock.

  One apple crunch salad.

  And one bowl of vegetable soup.

  Chapter 23

  It turned out Gabriel had a particular fondness for apples and walnuts. Beyond this he didn’t really care about the salad. I ate most of it, along with my soup and crusty, warm sourdough from the next-door bakery with local butter. I hadn’t though that the food might actually be outstanding in this lonely Scottish pub until it all started arriving in waves.

  I ate slowly through feeding Jason. First a plate of fries while the fish was piled onto the second order so it could cool. Kage reached over to add blobs of catchup, then I leaned into Andrew’s lap to set the plate on the floor at our feet.

  Jason dived in, scattering fries all over the blackened wood floor, snapping and gulping so fast bits of potato and whole fries flew in all directions. Andrew kicked him but it was no good. By the time the plate hit the floor it was nearly empty—though as much scattered as down Jason’s throat. Jason, who had no objections to swallowing sewer rats off London streets when in fur, went right to work cleaning up the floor the moment he’d licked the last of the crispy bits and catchup off the plate.

  The un-breaded haddock was quickest to cool so that went down next. Not before Jason had finished his housekeeping chores and either decided I was being too slow or that he should do the noble thing and serve himself. He tried valiantly to slither up onto the booth between Andrew and me, and place his upper body in my lap for easy reach of a variety of steaming dishes. Name-calling and another knee from Andrew left him only slightly winded, and failed to detour his nose from my soup bowl.

  Grabbing his muzzle, I pulled his face around to glare into his eyes. “If you keep this up you’ll have to go sit with Kage.”

  His golden eyes squinted in a wolfy smile and he licked my chin. Below the table, his tail thump-thumped against the side of the booth.

  It was no idle threat. Kage had both hands on a steak, mouth full, and I doubted he would have noticed right then if the table caught fire. Anyone waiting on Kage to provide for them would have just that: a wait. Jason’s coming to sit at my feet had been no accident.

  “Don’t worry. We’re not abandoning you.”

  “Like to, you daft sod,” Andrew muttered as he was again stepped on and smashed. “Right off a cliff…”

  Jason had a passing lick and managed to score a s
weeping tongue-full of Andrew’s neeps—some sort of root vegetable mash. This provoked fresh outrage and prompted Jason to wedge himself by the wall so he sat between Zar’s and Gabriel’s feet, well away from Andrew.

  Still licking his lips from the sumptuous neeps, he poked his jet black head up between Gabriel and me instead. I shifted down against Andrew, making a space to set Jason’s meal in increments on the bench. Jason afterward waited patiently for each refilling of the plate that started with the seared haddock. He licked this lovingly before gulping it down, gobbled the accompanying roast vegetables, rice, and sauce, then set to licking the plate for minutes on end until I added a couple chunks of the fried fish.

  While he swallowed and worshiped his plate, Gabriel ate his glen burger and picked out apple and walnut from the salad between us, soon pushing it over at me.

  “I wasn’t expecting this,” I told him. “It all looks great. Well … I don’t know about the haggis…”

  “Care to try one?” Gabriel asked.

  “I draw the line at certain cultural experiences. Sheep’s stomachs are one of them. But thank you. For all of this. You…? I’m sorry.” I went on with my soup.

  Jason licked the empty plate as if trying to dig through with his tongue.

  “No, please, go ahead.” There was almost a sigh in Gabriel’s voice. There always was; a background note of pain.

  “I was only going to say it doesn’t seem to get to you that you eat a moderate amount.”

  He had shepherd’s pie coming after the burger and salad but I was pretty sure that was all he’d ordered for himself.

  Gabriel lifted his near shoulder—a repeat of exactly Zar’s one-shouldered shrug. “I supplement meals with some of my own supermarket visits.”

  By which I supposed he meant he ate more than it appeared—an extra steak or two a day besides his otherwise normal human diet.

  I nodded. “Makes sense. It’s a beautiful place. You’re hotel, I mean. It’s been such a treat visiting. Not that it wouldn’t be anytime. Just this particular summer… Even more of a treat. We’ve thrown a monkey wrench in your summer but I’m grateful we found you. We all are.”