Moon Bound

by Leisl Leighton

  He cocked his head. ‘Patrick. He’ll make sure River’s all right. He’s very good at drawing people out.’

  Skye had been frowning at both of them, but now a smile slowly bloomed on her face. ‘You chose each of them purposefully, didn’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘They all remembered River from when he was a boy. Patrick used to play with him—they’re the same age. I’ve also got Liam flying in from Italy. He was always one of the group and should round it out nicely.’

  ‘But why Iain? He’s so … rock-like. And alone.’

  Jason smiled. ‘He’s a Lone Wolf—attached to the pack, but not. There is strength in that stand-alone need of his. One the pack needed. He came the moment I called, using that strength to buoy the pack, to help keep us standing.’ Jason’s smile widened. ‘River and the others followed Iain around when they were pups—they kind of hero worshipped him because of what they instinctively felt in him.’

  ‘So, you were betting on the bonds from those relationships to still be intact,’ Skye said slowly.

  ‘Yes. And it’s worked. He doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself from talking with them and interacting. And while he baulked at their presence to start off with, he’s come to accept them in his life. The more time they spend together, the more the bond will strengthen and the more he’ll be pulled into the arms of the pack.’

  Tears glistened in Bron’s eyes as Skye leaned up and kissed his cheek. ‘You won’t let him pull away.’

  ‘Not in this lifetime.’

  Skye reached up and brushed his hair back from his brow. ‘Have I told you recently I love you?’

  ‘You might have mentioned it once or twice. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.’

  ‘I love you, Jason McVale,’ she whispered against his lips.

  ‘I love you too, Skye Collins,’ he said, cupping her face and kissing her.

  Bron shifted, crossed her arms and coughed.

  They broke apart slowly and turned to look at her as if surprised to see someone was in the room with them.

  ‘You know how annoying it is to feel like you’ve disappeared?’

  Skye blinked and smiled softly. ‘Sorry, Bron. I didn’t forget you were here, it’s just …’

  Bron waved her hand and turned to pick up the crystal and put it back in the bowl. It hadn’t given her any comfort today like it normally did. ‘Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry to interrupt your session of getting so lost in each other that you forgot I existed, but I need to go. I need to start being the healer you think I am.’

  Jason took her hand in his. ‘I don’t just think it. I know.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you. But I have to prove it to myself.’

  ‘You’re going after River?’

  ‘I have to. I know you think we should leave him alone, but my healer instincts are telling me I need to go to him now. I think it’s being alone that’s letting the Darkness sink in further. Patrick being with him is good, but it’s me the Darkness responds to and I have to find out why.’

  ‘You are the only person who can do this because you are more integral to River than you know. So trust your instincts. I do.’ He gripped her shoulder and squeezed, then kissed her cheek.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her voice huskier than normal.

  ‘Make him better,’ Skye said softly. ‘Find out what’s wrong. Bring him back to us.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Turning, she picked up her bag and left them to find comfort in each other, knowing there would be no comfort of that sort for her for quite some time.

  Not until she’d managed to make a certain broken Were feel whole.

  Chapter 14

  As the sound of the engine faded into the distance, Bluebelle turned and peered back through the dormer window. Skye and Jason were on the couch, too wrapped up in themselves to notice anything else.

  Good. Hopefully that meant she had time. She scurried down the roof, jumped onto the top of the brick wall at the side of the building, teetering as her malformed foot buckled under her. She fell awkwardly, scraping her chin along the brick and landing heavily on her shoulder. Bright sparks of pain shot through her, but she didn’t have time to lick her wounds. Pushing up to her feet and shaking herself, she gingerly made her way along the wall to where she could jump through the window that was always left open for her.

  More carefully this time—she didn’t want to make a noise by knocking over any of the glass bottles on the shelf under the window—she jumped down to the floor. The impact jarred up her leg, sending a bright shoot of pain into her shoulder. She’d injured herself more than she thought, but that didn’t matter. She had to make a phone call and she only had a little time in which to do it. Helen would still be busy with her client, but the session was due to finish soon and she didn’t know when Skye and Jason might come back down. But she didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t like she could carry a mobile phone around with her. She had to report to her mistress and she had to report now.

  She ran to the front desk and clenched her teeth through the tearing pain of the change into human form. Panting and dripping with sweat, she picked up the phone and dialled.

  As the cool air dried the sweat on her skin, she shivered and wished she’d grabbed one of the robes to wrap around her. What if someone walked in the door? She was standing there completely naked. How could she explain that?

  She was about to put down the phone to remedy the situation when a cool voice answered. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Mistress … I mean, Morrigan. It’s me. Eloise. It worked.’

  There was a pause and then, ‘I knew it would.’

  ‘But they know you affected Skye’s power somehow.’ She held her breath, waiting for the explosion.

  ‘That is unfortunate, but not unexpected.’

  The air left Eloise in a great rush. Exhaustion made her vision waver and she leaned on the desk, then winced as pain shot through her shoulder. ‘They’re going to research in the diaries. Talk to other Pack Witches and find a way to break your link with Skye.’

  ‘They won’t find a way. The magic I use is nothing they know about.’

  ‘Oh.’ Eloise shivered at her mistress’s words, her teeth chattering.

  ‘Why the chattering teeth? Are you frightened by the magic I use, Eloise?’

  She stood bolt upright, gripping the phone tightly in her hand. ‘No. I’m just cold.’

  ‘You should find some clothes to put on. We don’t want you getting sick.’

  The caring words should have made Eloise smile, but instead she shivered again.

  ‘Now, tell me what happened after River took the power from the healer.’

  Eloise told her what she’d seen from her hidden perch outside the window. ‘She’s really powerful.’

  ‘Of course she is. She’s full of old power. Twin power. Skye Collins was born with the power of two inside her. Power that should have been mine. But instead, she’s shared it with the unworthy Wiccans and the power is now reflecting the soul of them. Bronwyn is a healer at heart, so the power is transmogrified into healing power.’

  ‘Then why can’t she heal River?’

  Morrigan chuckled. ‘There is a reason he never ended up with any of the power meant for him.’

  Eloise frowned. ‘I thought that was because he was a Were and Were don’t have any power.’

  ‘That’s true, in part. But there’s another truth at the heart of it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He has some Darkness inside him. You saw the proof of it today. And now we can use that to our advantage.’

  ‘What about Bron?’

  ‘She is key to this too, but not in the way I originally thought. River’s feelings for the healer are just feeding the divide created by the Darkness. I need to use that somehow. I know it.’

  ‘Could the next full moon be helpful? When he next turns into the Beast?’

  There was a pause and then … ‘No. It falls right at Yule. Rebirth. Ferti
lity. I have other plans for Yule. But if I can bring out the Beast earlier…’ There was silence down the other end of the phone. Eloise knew well enough not to interrupt her mistress when she was thinking, so she stayed silent and waited, even though she knew she couldn’t stand there for much longer.

  Finally she was rewarded. ‘There will be sacrifices to make. I’ll have to keep asking you to spy for me, even though I know it exhausts you to do what you do.’

  ‘I don’t mind. I’d do anything for you, Morrigan.’

  ‘I know you would, my dear. Now, here’s what I want you to do.’

  Eloise listened, breathless, as her mistress told her of her plans. What she asked would be difficult, painful even, but Eloise hadn’t been lying when she’d told Morrigan she would do anything for her. She’d meant every word. She’d already learned so much. Since Morrigan had lifted her up, brought her into her confidence, named her friend, not servant, just as Morrigan had done for her brother Cain, she felt special. Loved.

  ‘Now, I’ve just got to create the right combination of events, and then we will use those keys to unlock my final revenge and break the Were-Witch Pact forever.’

  Eloise nodded and said, ‘I’ll do as you ask’, but the words were said to an engaged signal—Morrigan had already hung up.

  Eloise was tired, and it took everything in her to melt her bones again and become the cat. But she gritted her teeth and did as her mistress asked. Then, meowing pathetically, she limped upstairs. Bron and River were both gone, so she had to make Skye take her home. By the time she made it to the top of the stairs, her crippled leg was aching, the pain in her shoulder was almost unbearable and her pathetic meows were no longer an act.

  She stumbled into the room and fell to the floor. With a cry, Skye ran to her and picked her up. ‘Oh, you poor kitty. What have you done to yourself?’

  ‘It looks like she’s fallen from the roof,’ Jason said, coming close. ‘I saw her up there before.’ Eloise had to stop herself from cringing from his hand.

  ‘We need to take her to a vet.’

  Jason shook his head. ‘She’s Bron’s familiar. She’ll be able to heal her.’

  ‘But she’s in pain and Bron has gone to track River down. We can’t distract her from that.’

  ‘Shelley is there. She might be able to help.’ Jason brushed his hand through Skye’s hair, the gesture far more human and gentle than Eloise thought animals like him capable of. Then he surprised her further when he leaned down, his fingers stroking gently across her head, and said, ‘It’s okay, Bluebelle. We’ll take care of you until your mistress gets back.’ He put his hand on Skye’s back. ‘Come on. Let’s get her home.’

  Something thick wedged in Eloise’s throat as Skye, holding her close to her chest, kissed her mate. ‘I love you, Jason McVale.’

  ‘I love you too, Skye Collins.’

  As they carried her out and placed her in the car for the trip back to the packhouse, Eloise tried to ignore that soft, warm feeling inside her and concentrate on her mission. The Were were animals and were rotten to the core. That’s what she’d been taught. That’s what she believed. One kind action wasn’t enough to change that. Nor was the way River brought her treats and talked to her as if she was a confidant.

  Guilt stabbed through her at what she’d done today. But no. She couldn’t let it affect her decisions. Her mistress had told her how the Were had stolen power from the witches, its natural inheritors. It’s why her once great family had been brought to such low straits.

  They must be stopped. And Eloise would help to stop them.

  Chapter 15

  River knelt next to the garden bed, pulling out weeds that had cropped up between the decorative stones. He would need to lift the stones and put in another layer of mulch and newspaper to discourage the growth. He sighed. He’d neglected the place for too long and it was starting to show. Although, why did he bother? When he was gone, it would get worse.

  He closed his eyes against that thought and hoisted a heavy slab of concrete onto his shoulder, making his mind concentrate on the task at hand, on the strain of muscles and sinew as he laid a new path.

  There was a tentative push of concern through the twin bond. Fuck! Skye knew where he was. He pushed the concern back, longing for the days when Skye blocked the bond.

  He chuckled at the irony. He’d spent years trying to break through those blocks, but now Skye had accepted her magic and its purpose, the twin bond was open and he desperately wished it wasn’t. She didn’t like him being here because of the difficult memories she had of Cantrae House. But what none of them realised was that he didn’t share her feelings about their home. He’d been happy here, up until that last night. Well, as happy as a suppressed and broken Were could be. Unlike Skye, he had always felt the love of both their grandparents.

  Aside from that, he’d had the garden. It spoke to his heart in ways the house had never done. This garden had calmed his tortured wolf. There was nothing like the warm damp feel of soil on his hands as he laid a plant into its bed, breathing in the rich scents of minerals, the manure and mulch, the sweet exotic perfume of the flowers, the sharp bitterness of the greenery, the cinnamon tang of bark. He could lose himself in those scents, in the rough and silken textures under his hands, the tension leaving his muscles as he dug and bent and patted, lifted and sorted.

  In another life, one without the insidious touch of the Beast, he could have found happiness in spending his life as a landscape gardener, working on living projects. The joy of creation and hard, honest, sweaty work, was something he could not explain to others. The garden was ever changing, growing, needing him to change and grow with it. He felt the pull of it.

  He wanted to be buried here, in the garden he loved. The idea of his inevitable death—looming closer now than ever before—wasn’t so terrible when he thought about the possibility of living on in the plants and trees he had nurtured, his flesh and blood enriching the soil, giving more life to other living things. There was comfort in that.

  He lowered the last rough-edged slab into place then stood, his gaze roaming over the little Japanese-inspired oasis he had created only a few months before. He’d only been here an hour and already he was feeling more at peace with his world. Warmth roamed in his chest.

  ‘You have a talent, grandson.’

  ‘Grandpa.’ River’s lips widened further as he turned around to face the direction the voice had come from. But of course, he didn’t see his grandpa. Not like he used to. Harrison had used up the power that had remained to him when he’d helped Skye stop Morrigan Cantrae from using Skye’s power and killing River. The glow of his spirit was forever depleted and could only be truly seen by a medium like Shelley. He should be gone completely, but somehow Shelley remained as an anchor for him and he could come forth at times with great effort. He’d made that effort during the full moon, his presence a comfort to River as he transformed into the Beast for three nights and the ruined, broken half self he’d been during the days.

  ‘I didn’t thank you for staying with me on the full moon.’

  ‘You don’t ever need to thank me, River. I wish I could do more for you.’

  ‘You do enough.’

  ‘It’s good to see you back here in the garden. It needed you.’

  River’s lips twisted as he tried to fight the tightness squeezing his chest, the burning in his eyes. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Grandpa.’

  ‘I am, too. And if you need to talk, I’m always here to listen, even if I can’t manage to answer back. I’m always here.’

  ‘I know.’

  There was a brush of warmth over his head, almost as if his grandpa had stroked his hair, but too soon the sensation was gone and there was only silence. The peaceful silence of a garden; the tinkle of water, the gentle rustle of the warm summer breeze in the giant oak tree above him, and the occasional tweet of a busy bird. He closed his eyes and let the peace of the moment steal into his soul. This is what he’d come for. Solitude.
The garden was lover and mother and friend and he would die in its embrace.

  Taking in a big lungful of summer-scented air, he let that thought go and turned. There was work to do.

  Christmas was near and he always planted poinsettias and Christmas lilies at this time of year. Nobody seemed to be getting ready for Christmas yet, even though it was only a few weeks away. Their time had been too filled with other concerns. But he remembered. His grandmother loved the red and green of the poinsettias and the heavenly smell of the lilies. Even though she wasn’t here, he still felt the need to plant them for her. He’d almost missed out on planting the bulbs, but if he did it now, it wouldn’t be too late.

  Muscles flexing, back arching and stretching, he weeded and replanted, moved rocks and stones, laid down mulch and dug blood and bone into his soil where he was planning on planting new vegetation soon. He very quickly built up a sweat and took off his T-shirt, the warmth of the sun a welcome caress.

  Walking into his shed, he hoisted another pack of the compacted mulch he’d ordered online and took it out to the garbage bin of water he’d prepared so he could rehydrate it. He’d have to order some more soon at the rate his garden was chewing through it, not to mention those plants he wanted for the northern corner. A new design had begun in his mind and his fingers started to itch for paper and charcoal to mark it out. But he had to finish this first, then he could draw and figure out what he’d need to order and add to it the supplies he was low on.

  He dumped the mulch in the water, swishing it around, watching it expand and destroy the reflective surface. His hands stung as the water and mulch clung to the nicks and pricks and little tears he’d gained in the last few hours, but it was a stinging he welcomed, because as long as he could feel something like that, it meant the rage building inside with insidious stealth hadn’t taken over yet.

  He heard a car drive up the street, the iron gates swinging open and tires on the gravel of the curved sweep of drive at the front of the house. He stiffened. He didn’t need to hear that little hitch in the engine to know who it was. The prickling under his skin as she drew ever closer always told him she was near.