Blue Moon

by J. A. Belfield

  “Correct,” she said. “It took me a while to find it, but I did. If you know the right places to go, there are records—grimoires—with witch histories in them. They also contain successful or powerful spells, rituals, dark or forbidden magic. All the stuff that can only be read if you have the right connections, because it would be really bad if they fell into the wrong hands.”

  “Oh, God!” With a groan, I rubbed at my face.

  “You and Sean are in one grimoire along with a detailed description of the binding ritual used, and the incantations spoken. It was all in there, including the admission that it was believed to have worked so powerfully because you’d already been bound and connected to him by the bite.”

  “Tell me.” I dropped my hand to the tabletop. “Tell me about the ritual.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I need to know. I need to understand what triggered my reaction to Josh’s gift.”

  “Well …if you’re sure.”

  Get on with it, already, I wanted to yell. “I am.”

  “Okay. So, you and Sean exchanged wreaths that had been made from your hair—his for you, yours for him . . .”

  No sooner had the words left her than a switch clicked inside my brain, like an attempt to send through a surge of information. My lids lowered. Fluttering images danced about behind the shield. Jess continued to speak, but I no longer defined her words. With the striving cogs inside my mind almost loud enough to hear, the throb at my temple spread across my sinuses. I massaged the ball of my free hand into my eye socket to stem the pain.

  My lids flew open. “Oh!”

  “Jem?”

  “I think I remember it.”

  “You—”

  “I remember it,” I said. “My wreath.” I gestured to my neck as though I expected her to see. “I made it from my own hair like you said. My mother insisted on it. Sean made one, too, from his hair. And we exchanged them. In the forest …we were in the forest.” I closed my eyes again to draw forth the image and took a deep breath. “The moon was whole that night.” My voice dropped to a murmur. “It …it was the eve of our wedding—or, at least, I was wearing my wedding dress. I think …I think our hands were sliced with something, I’m not sure what. And—we seemed to be mingling our blood . . .”

  “Amazing—”

  “No! Not mingling, that’s not right. We …exchanged blood,” I corrected. “We weren’t alone, and there was chanting or something. Words—binding words. And we recited about fate and destiny, but I’ve already remembered those words, so . . .”

  “Oh, my—”

  “Candles.” I reopened my eyes against the vividness of the memory. “We were within a circle of candles.” My breaths arrived faster. “I …I can’t recall anything else.”

  “Holy shit, Jem! You really were there. It’s exactly as described in the records.”

  “How long have you known about this, Jess?”

  A brief pause came through before she said, “Since October.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

  “If you recall, you asked me not to tell you anything that might freak you out.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You said if I found anything I thought you’d rather not know, then I should keep it to myself.”

  I couldn’t dispute her, I had said that. “Even so.”

  “Look, I had every intention of telling you. At first, I wanted to be certain I’d got my facts right. Then, once I’d convinced myself it couldn’t possibly be about anyone else, I was waiting …for the right moment.”

  I let out a long, low groan.

  “I’m sorry, but I was going to tell you. I swear.”

  My whole life, since I’d learned of Sean’s existence, since I’d met him—everything—it all seemed a lot for one person to have to take in.

  “Jem?” Jess’s voice sounded tentative.

  “What do I do now?” I asked.

  “About what?”

  The door to the cabin pushed open. As Nathan stepped inside, his gaze met mine, and he inclined his head.

  I held up a finger to request a minute. “About the witch,” I said into the phone.

  Nathan nodded, coming farther in and shutting the door.

  “Stick close to her,” Jess said. “And leave me to do some digging.”

  “How am I supposed to stick close to someone who knows I don’t like her?”

  “Turn it around. Be nice.”

  “How the heck am I supposed to be nice to someone I can’t stand the sight of?” My gaze remained locked with Nathan’s.

  “You will have to try if you want to help Josh.”

  “But—”

  “Have you never heard of the expression, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer? It’s a rule I find works very well for me. If you push her away, you’ll push Josh away. If she’s binding him, he will not listen to you—or anyone else, for that matter—if you have something bad to say about this witch. The only chance you have of helping Josh is if you watch him like a hawk. And you can’t do that if you’re barely speaking. So suck it up, befriend the witch and play nice.”

  My eyes closed for a moment as I released a groan.

  “In the meantime, I’ll dig deep and see what I can find out about her. See what’s growing on the grapevine. You said her name is Marianne?”

  I lifted my lids, stared back at Nathan. “Yes.”

  “Surname?”

  My shoulders shrugged. “No. I don’t have it.”

  “What about her sister’s name?”

  “Amber.”

  “Leave it with me. I’ll go dig. I’ll take the biggest shovel I have. As soon as I have something, I’ll call. Witches don’t like parting with info on their own kind, so play it cool and be patient. Okay?”

  “Okay, Jess. Thanks.”

  I hung up and lowered the phone to the desk as though handing over a live bomb to a professional diffuser—an attempt to disguise the tremor of my hand.

  “Well.” Nathan flung his arms wide. “What was that all about?”

  I blew out a breath. “We have a problem.”

  8

  Nathan’s hands rested on his hips as he stared down at me.

  “Marianne is a witch,” I said.

  “According to …?”

  “Jess.” I tapped my mobile. “I just spoke to her. She said the tea Marianne keeps making Josh is a summoning tea. And she said the bracelet being made of hair qualifies it for binding.”

  Nathan frowned.

  “That’s why Sean and I recognised it as being off,” I continued. “Because that was one of the things we did during our binding ceremony.”

  Exactly as mine had, Nathan’s mouth opened and closed. He took a step forward. “Did you recall a memory?”

  “Not at first.” My gaze remained on his. “Jess helped.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Jess?”

  I gave a slow nod.

  His brows lowered to accommodate the return of his frown. “She knows about you and Sean?”

  My chin dipped again.

  “That’s impossible.” He lifted his hands up, slammed them back down on his hips. “How?”

  “There are records regarding us in witch history,” I said. “Jess has read them. And I know them to be accurate because when she said something about us exchanging hair, it jogged my memory about that evening. When I told her what I remembered, she said it’s the same as what’s been recorded.”

  Nathan raised a singular eyebrow. “So, you remembered?”

  “Yep.”

  “And now witches, as well as our race, are aware of your existence?”

  My shoulders bunched into a shrug. “I
don’t know.”

  Nathan fell quiet for a moment, rubbing a hand across his forehead, his eyes distant. “Just because witches have a record of your binding doesn’t mean they’re aware of your return.”

  “I don’t think Marianne’s interest in Josh is connected to me and Sean, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He stared hard at me for seconds, his mouth a grim line. “You asked Jess for suggestions before you ended the call, yes?”

  “She said she’s going to see what she can find out about Marianne and her sister. In the meantime, she said I have to be nice to Marianne.” My scowl returned. “Jess said if I’m horrible to Marianne, I’ll push Josh away.” I matched his serious expression with one of my own. “He’s no longer under your command, Nate. Marianne is controlling him now.”

  A flash of fury chilled Nathan’s eyes.

  “And she said make sure he doesn’t drink the tea.”

  Nathan groaned, reaching up to brush a hand across his hair.

  My pulse increased. “Nate?”

  “It’s too late . . .”

  The chair rolled back as I stood.

  “He’s drinking the damn thing now.”

  My dive for the door sent the chair crashing into the wall at my rear.

  Nathan’s hand covered mine, holding the door in place. “You can’t just go charging over there.”

  I wiggled the handle, growling when Nathan held it steady. “I need to stop him.”

  “Did you listen to a word your sister said?” His free hand slid around my waist, and he swivelled until we faced back inside the cabin. “Play nice. Isn’t that what she told you?” He took my shoulders, spinning me round to face him. “You’ll go nowhere but backward if you don’t handle this with a little delicacy—especially if Jess has her suspicions correct.”

  It took effort to calm my heaving chest. My gaze darted around until I’d gained self-control and settled on Nathan. “What do I do?”

  “You go over there . . .” Calm words spoken with a hint of the snarls he often repressed. “…And you repair the damage already done.”

  My cheeks bulged with my huge pout.

  “Jem?” Nathan urged.

  I heaved out a sigh. “Sure. Whatever it takes, right?”

  He patted my shoulder. “Whatever it takes.”

  • • •R

  I hit the showroom apartment just in time for lunch. A pause in the doorway gave me a chance to scan the room’s occupants, Daniel, Kyle, Connor, Ethan, Sean—Josh and Marianne.

  Sean rummaged into the brown paper bag on the floor. “You timed that well.” A flick of his wrist sent a burger sailing toward me.

  I caught it. “Thanks.”

  The air within lacked the tension I expected it to hold, telling me details of the argument Ethan witnessed had spread no further than Nathan.

  I left the warm depths of Sean’s eyes and met Ethan’s questioning gaze. I smiled, giving the tiniest of nods. For Connor, Kyle and Daniel, their food held more interest than me—typical Larsen behaviour.

  With his body half turned away, Josh partly obscured my line of vision to Marianne. As though she sensed my stare, Marianne tilted to the left.

  As Nathan’s instructions echoed in my head, I dismissed my unwrapped burger and walked over to her, ignoring Josh when he turned and frowned.

  Her eyebrow lifted. “Jem.”

  The pack probably thought I had plans to tear her up some. If not for my phone chat with Jess and Nathan’s orders, a little shredding could well have been on the agenda.

  “Hello, Marianne.” I practiced a smile, impressing myself with my efforts. The mild surprise in Marianne’s eyes helped it to widen. “I owe you an apology.” My lip almost curled. Damn, that was hard.

  Josh’s high shoulders drooped an inch whilst the curious attention of the others burned from my right.

  My gaze remained on Marianne’s. “I was out of order yesterday. I had no right to speak to you the way I did …and I’m sorry.”

  A flash of irritation sparked her eyes for a nanosecond.

  I curbed my inner smile as it tried to take over my lips and held out my hand. “I’d really like it if we could start afresh.”

  With the ball in her court, I awaited her next shot.

  Her calculating eyes took me in for too long before she smiled, reached out and shook my offered hand—though I guessed I’d left her with little choice. “Of course. I’d like that, Jem.”

  The urge to squeeze harder than necessary overwhelmed me. I really wanted to. Maybe bring tears to her eyes. After a longer handshake and much more physical contact with the witch than I wanted, I let go. “Thanks. That’s very generous of you.”

  With one last smile for emphasis, I returned to my burger and crossed the room to Sean. My expression faded the second I turned away.

  Sean’s head tilted as his eyes drew me in. “Jem?” His mumble arrived no louder than a sigh.

  I bit down on my meat-filled bun and chewed. “She has no idea who she’s messing with,” I whispered.

  • • •

  “So …enlighten me,” Sean said after the others had all dispersed for work.

  I climbed the stepladder, sat at eye level with him and told him of my memory recall.

  His brow wrinkled as he listened. “If it was the eve of our wedding, I don’t understand why I’m not getting it.”

  “I know,” I said. “You dreamt about the wedding ceremony, as well as our …love making in the barn.” As a particular favourite of our dreams—for us both—talk of it provoked smiles in the two of us. “I don’t get why your mind would skip the part in between.”

  He tugged on a loose strand of my hair. “Me neither.”

  “But,” I said, considering again, “if you think about our wedding night dream, weren’t you wearing something around your neck in the barn? I’m certain you were, now I think about it.”

  Sean’s eyes grew distant and focused. “That’s right. Some kind of …braided necklace.” His hand signalled where the necklace had rested against his chest. “Made from—”

  “My hair,” I finished.

  His head continued bobbing as though the dots connected in his mind. “So, this means what? That Marianne is—”

  “Binding Josh to her,” I said.

  “But . . .” His frown returned. “Why?”

  “Jess is going to find out.”

  “Jess?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Jess called me. She recognised what Marianne had done. It was Jess who prompted me to remember.”

  His eyebrows scrunched. “Jess?”

  It took only a couple of minutes to run through the revelation that witches knew, as well as werewolves, about the binding ceremony that took place between Sean and me.

  His frown lines deepened when I explained how Jess found a record of it. “And this grimoire or whatever it is …where did she find it?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think to ask. Does it matter? Surely, even if someone else reads it, they won’t connect the story to us? Witches can’t recognise werewolves …so how would they know it’s us?”

  “That’s not what I was getting at, Jem.”

  “Then, what?”

  He stared into me. “This grimoire? Aren’t they like . . .” He seemed to search for the right words. “I’m pretty sure grimoires are a record—a witch’s record—of tried and tested spells. Is that right?”

  I shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “And they get passed down from generation to generation? Like with our histories?”

  “I guess. So?”

  He took my face between his palms. “That binding ritual could only have been recorded by you or your mother, Jem. At some point, the particular grimoire that holds
the details of our binding belonged to your family.”

  My mouth formed a silent ‘O’ as the implication of his words sank in.

  “So, we should find out where it is,” he said, “because, theoretically, that book belongs to you.”

  • • •

  My distracted mind resulted in a half-hearted attempt at cooking dinner. I forgot about the sausages I’d put in the oven to brown, and we ended up eating a couple of gammon omelettes each. The entire time, Ethan nagged about how dinner never burned when he had cooking duty.

  As soon as the last of the meal had been eaten, I cleared the table and turned to study the three men, left to right—Ethan, Nathan, Sean. “I don’t want to tell you I told you so, but I did.”

  All three stared back.

  “I told you there was something wrong with her.” The more I’d thought about it over the course of the day, the more annoyed I’d grown. If they’d all listened to me instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of my unease about Marianne, Josh wouldn’t have been in such a mess.

  Nathan nodded, his lids lowering for a second before reconnecting gazes with mine.

  “The first day I saw her, I told you there was something funny about her.”

  They watched me in silence.

  “If you’d listened to me instead of—”

  “You’re right.” Nathan broke into my monologue.

  I lifted an eyebrow.

  “You’re absolutely right.” He rubbed a hand over his head, roughing up his hair. “You said you had a feeling about her, and I should have taken notice. You did exactly what I’ve always told you to do. I’ve always encouraged you to let us know if something seems off and, when you did, we didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

  Ethan and Sean turned from Nathan to me, their brows high. Their reactions told me Nathan didn’t admit his errors very often.

  “Have you told the others about this?” I asked Nathan, meaning the Larsens.

  “Connor knows. But not Dan or Kyle. Josh has been with them all day, so I didn’t get the chance. And I’ve asked Connor not to talk about it this evening, in case Josh overhears. The last thing we need is Josh eavesdropping on his family whilst they accuse his girlfriend of being a witch. If that happens, it’ll push him farther away …if your sister’s right about this.”