Moon Bound

by Leisl Leighton

  River tried to move, tried to tell her to stop fighting for him, to just escape, but he couldn’t make more than a strangled sound, his body vibrating and jerking with the lightning-sharp pain that arced through him. He watched, helpless as she struggled.

  ‘Please … can’t breathe.’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t deserve to.’

  A tear slid down her cheek. ‘You’re my brother.’

  ‘I’m not the brother to a traitor.’ Cain’s fingers tightened.

  She made a choking sound. River was sure she was about to die. But then all of a sudden, light flared around her and her outline shifted, dissolved. Cain cried out, stumbled back and then with a roar, lunged at the cat that had suddenly appeared at his feet. The cat took off for the door and he crashed heavily to the ground, his arms full of nothing but air.

  ‘Stop her!’ Morrigan shrieked. The pain screaming through River’s nerves evaporated and he fell, panting and sweaty, back to the table. He looked up just as Eloise darted around the door, the power bolt Morrigan threw at her barely missing. It hit the doorway with an explosion of wood and plaster. Chunks of dirt fell from the ceiling.

  When the dust cleared, there was no sign of the cat. She’d got away.

  With a roar, Cain took off after her. River could hear more power bolts going off, getting fainter with distance. He prayed to whatever god would listen that she got away to safety.

  Morrigan, her fists clenched at her sides, stared at the rubble in the doorway.

  Chuckling, his voice barely a rasp, River said, ‘She really got one up on you.’

  ‘Shut up.’ She slashed her hand and his body bowed up from the table as pain arced through him again.

  ‘Mistress, stop. He won’t be strong enough for the ritual.’

  She let out a cry of frustrated rage, but the pain disappeared, leaving River trembling and weak. But thanks to Eloise, he was no longer hopeless. ‘She’ll get my pack. If you’re here, they’ll kill you.’

  ‘What? And kill your grandmother with me? I don’t think so.’ She leaned over him, smiling.

  Even though it was his grandmother’s face, River could see no resemblance between the woman who had loved him and tried to protect him, and this revenge-driven witch. No scent of his grandmother remained. ‘My grandmother is gone. You’re nothing but her shell.’

  Morrigan’s smile widened and she chuckled. ‘That might be true, grandson, but then, I’m not planning to be around when they get here.’

  ‘Then how will you exact your revenge?’

  ‘Oh, you will do it for me.’

  ‘No. I won’t.’

  ‘You’ll have no choice. You’re going to change into your Beast and you’ll kill them.’ She pointed to Iain and Gareth, who now hung from shackles bolted into the wall. ‘I’ve bloodied them for you. Made certain they’re nice and tasty. The Beast won’t be able to resist. It will tear these two apart without blinking. Then, wild and rabid, it’ll go after the others. It will hunt down and kill your Bronwyn, your sister, Shelley, because that’s what rabid animals always do—go after those they love the most. And the moment that happens, the Curse will be enacted and I will use the power of that to tear apart the pact.’

  Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. ‘I won’t change. I haven’t changed with all the torture, and I’m not about to do it now. Not without the full moon. Whatever combination of magic and drugs you shot into me years ago made certain of that.’

  She smiled at him, ran her finger down his cheek, over the burn scars, her touch making him aware of how ugly they were. ‘There was no magic. That was just a tranquilliser. Your rage that night let an ancient part of yourself surface that had long been denied, and with it, the Darkness was granted entry. Your grandmother and grandfather’s meddling kept the Darkness that was once a part of the Were sleeping, but as with all sleeping things, it dreamed. Such delicious dreams of rage and revenge. Those dreams became your reality because you were so angry with the world.’ She laughed. ‘You’re broken, but not because of anything I did to you. That animal was already inside you. You’re the one who let it out, let it take over. You did that to yourself.’

  ‘You’re a lying bitch.’ But as he said it, dread rose up and he couldn’t look in her too-knowing eyes.

  She reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair, just like his grandmother used to do to soothe him. But after two strokes, she gripped his hair tight and yanked, forcing his head back so he couldn’t help but look up at her. ‘I might lie about plenty of things, but this isn’t one of them.’ She let go and his head thumped back against the table. ‘But believe what you will. The whys and wherefores matter nothing to me. You are a tool, and I will use that tool.’

  His head throbbed, his entire body ached. The cuts on his chest burned. But he gritted his teeth against the pain and said through clenched lips. ‘I won’t change. Nothing you can do will force me to. Only the full moon can do that. And that is days away. My pack will be here within the hour.’

  ‘Oh, I am counting on it.’

  He shuddered as icy foreboding chased along his skin and down his spine at her words. Her smile was so icy, he felt like he’d been thrown into a bath full of snow. She gestured up at the ceiling of the cave and he looked up, seeing a depression there that he hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘Ben, now that Cain is chasing his traitor sister around, I will need you to assist me.’

  ‘Whatever I can do, Mistress.’

  ‘Open the moon door,’ she said.

  Chapter 23

  Ben walked to the other side of the room and pushed on a rocky protrusion. There was a grinding sound above River’s head and a scattering of dirt fell on him as the indentation in the roof pushed upward and then slid to the side.

  Through the perfect two-metre-wide circular opening, he could see a scatter of stars and the three-quarter moon. His hands twitched at his sides. Deep inside, his wolf howled. No. Not just his wolf. The Beast’s hunger swept through him at the sight of the almost full moon. Almost a week off the three-day full moon cycle, it didn’t have the power to force the change, but the moon’s magic called to the Beast none the less. It sat up and howled a song of near freedom.

  River clenched his teeth, not wanting to allow that sound to rip from his throat. It wasn’t a song of joy or relief—it was one of violence and blood. The Beast wanted to sink its teeth into warm flesh, to render and tear, to taste the saltiness of blood on its tongue, the warm thickness of it as it drenched a throat parched and dry and sore. It wanted to feast of the flesh, like his brethren had done for years beyond counting before the pact was drawn. But unlike those long-ago brethren, the Beast didn’t feel sorrow for the death and destruction it wrought. It longed for it. Wanted to lose itself in an insanity beyond stopping—to drown in an ecstasy of blood and gore and death.

  River shook against the madness inside him. He couldn’t bring himself to believe what Morrigan had told him—that he was responsible for creating the Beast. And yet …

  An image flickered in River’s eyes. A car, swerving to miss a bolt of lightning that came from another car. Another bolt. Then another. Too many, too close. The car was hit. Its wheels squealing on the dark bitumen, it hit the dirt on the side of the road, spun wildly and smashed through a fence, across a paddock straight towards a huge ghost gum.

  ‘No,’ River whispered, as the image in his mind careened wildly, flashing sickeningly with what he could see with his human eyes—Morrigan lifting her arms as Ben moved forward to remove her gown, leaving her naked, her pale skin glowing silver and pearlescent in the light of the moon. She flung her arms up to the moon door above him. Ancient words, dark and full of a power that had his hair standing on end, erupted from lips painted as red as blood.

  In the other part of his mind, he fell into the car, driven to look through the eyes of a terrified and angry boy as the car spun off the road. Metal screeched with a high-pitched, torturous groan as the tinkling smash of shattering
glass erupted back on him. He dived sideways, trying to cover his twin, the glass cutting through his clothes, embedding in his skin in sharp little flares of pain.

  Then silence.

  He could smell blood and fear. Excreta and death.

  He looked up, numb with shock, and saw his mama impaled on a branch that had been driven through the windscreen, her head flung back at an odd angle, her brown eyes staring out lifelessly at the tree above them.

  His papa moaned—a sound filled with so much grief it shivered into his soul—his tear-filled gaze pinned to Mama’s face. Papa strained forward, but his legs were pinned under the steering wheel. His mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. Blood ran from his temple, darkly, thickly red against his too-pale skin.

  ‘Mama?’

  Skye! He pushed back off her as she began to scrabble wildly at her seatbelt. He knocked her hands aside and pushed the button.

  Skye sprang forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. ‘Mama?’

  Papa turned, holding her back, his lips twisted horribly as he tried to force down a cry of pain. His gaze skated over River and Skye then flickered past them. Panic flared in his eyes, obscuring the pain and the grief. ‘Skye. River. Get out of the car. Go. Find the pack. They’re on their way … I can feel them.’

  Skye began to shake, and whimper a denial, but Papa pinned her with his gaze and said, ‘Run. NOW!’

  River could see she was about to deny the command, but he was part animal, used to obeying the pack hierarchy at a cellular level. He grabbed her hand and jerked her to face him. ‘Skye. We have to go.’

  ‘But what about Papa? And Mama.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do for us now except to run,’ Papa said. ‘Run to the safety of the pack. Jackson McVale will look after you. Run and don’t look back.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She threw herself forward, wrapped her arms around him.

  He managed to put an arm around her, giving her a squeeze, his gaze capturing River with something more than a simple caress. ‘Take care of her.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘I’ll take care of River, too,’ Skye said, tears pouring down her face.

  ‘I know you will. Now go. They’re coming. I only hope the wolves find you first.’ He winced. ‘I tried to change what I saw. I tried.’ He clutched at her hand. ‘Trust Jason. He’ll find you. You are bonded already.’

  ‘Papa. I don’t understand. Papa?’ Her lips trembled and River felt her turmoil inside him, a twin to his own.

  ‘This is not for you to understand right now. But you will. I promise.’ He pulled River to him, kissed him and hugged him tight, then kissed Skye. ‘Go,’ he whispered, his voice a wheeze now as he struggled for breath.

  River took her hand and reached to open the door. But it was yanked outward before his fingers touched the handle. Hands grabbed him. Skye was torn from his grasp, pulled out the other door. He heard Papa cry out, a sound of grief and rage that echoed deep inside.

  He was dragged from the car, kicking, snapping. Skye was screaming. ‘Skye!’ he yelled. ‘Skye!’ He began to tremble, his body heating from the inside out in waves that became a sparking golden glow that covered his form. The men holding him cried out and dropped him.

  He heard a loud snap of sound behind him just as the sharp jerk of a dart hit him in the back. He screamed as the change jerked to a halt. He tried to push through, to become the wolf, to help Papa and Skye—whose screams had turned into shrieks of rage as she yelled at someone not to hurt him—but everything was swimming. The soil beneath him rocked and roiled, rising up to smack him in the face.

  A female voice—a stranger’s voice, yet somehow familiar—snapped out a command he couldn’t seem to make himself understand. Hands grabbed him, fingers digging into his upper arms in a bruising hold. He was pulled from the ground. His head lolled. But even though he could barely see past the swirling blackness that was moving in to cover him, he saw his sister, outlined in the moonlight, a stream of bright red blood running from a gash on her temple, dripping off her chin.

  Two forms lay slumped at her feet and her hands were outstretched, blue fire arcing from them in an uncontrolled display of power that was at once awesome and terrifying. She was trying to stop the men from reaching the car. But it didn’t matter if they got there or not. He could smell petrol in the air. A bright flare to his right. The car exploded.

  The explosion blew him and the men holding him backwards. Heat rushed over them, so hot it burned. He struggled, futilely, to gain his feet as he heard Skye’s grief-filled screams. Blue lightning struck the shadowy shapes of men and women around him, lighting them up in blazes brighter and hotter than the sun. Her rage blended with his in a wash of red darkened on the edges with a creeping black.

  He stumbled forward, slashed out at the men near him with half-changed claws. His parents were gone, but he had to save Skye. Had to protect her. But he couldn’t get near her. She was lit up so bright it looked like she was going to explode. Helpless fury burned cold and dark through him, into his chest, burrowing deep.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ the mellifluous female voice snarled. He swung around, determined to kill her first. She was holding a gun. He leapt towards her. Three darts punched into his chest. He flew backwards, rolled, tried to get up. Darkness swam into his vision and he fell, face to the side in time to watch the witch drop the gun and extend her hands. Lightning shot out and hit Skye in the back. She jerked as the energy bolt zapped through her system, her lips pulled back on a voiceless cry.

  River tried to call out her name, tried to move, but the darkness climbed up over him.

  Let me in and I will give you your revenge.

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ A vicious howl echoed inside his mind; a howl that sang of violent revenge.

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Let the animal free.’ That familiar, mellifluous voice pulled him out of the vision and he looked up to see Morrigan standing over him, her smile a red slash in her face. ‘Remember all the terror. Remember your reasons for inviting in the Darkness and allowing it to create the Beast. Remember what you wanted to do to those who threatened you; to those who wanted to stop you from reaching your goal.’

  She began to cant a spell. His skin twitched at the sound of the words, his heart pounded, his breath a raw rub of heat in his chest. The Beast surged forward, tearing through the bonds that held him in place. River screamed.

  Morrigan lifted a knife high, chanting. The silver blade gleamed in the moonlight, shining down from the moon door above him. Oh God, yes. Kill the Beast. Don’t let it out. ‘Do it. Do it,’ he pleaded.

  ‘No! River no. You can’t die.’ A voice, a dear, love-filled voice, shrieked a denial in his head.

  ‘Bronwyn,’ he croaked through a voice turned raw with screaming. He remembered what Eloise had told him, remembered how important it was for the pack, for Bronwyn, that he stay alive, but, ‘I don’t think … it’s an option.’

  ‘River. Stay alive. You have to stay alive for the pack. And for me. I can’t live without you.’

  ‘Bronwyn,’ he said, more loudly this time.

  ‘We’re coming. Hold on.’

  At her words, adrenaline-fuelled strength coursed through his veins, pushing through his muscles. He pulled against the bindings, every sinew straining, ignoring the pain that lashed and burned the tortured skin of his wrists. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but still he pulled and struggled, his gaze on the evil-looking blade that hovered above him. He didn’t look at Morrigan—he knew in her eyes he’d see his death.

  He no longer wanted to see his death. He wanted to see hers.

  Morrigan’s incantation stopped on a long, ululating cry. The knife slashed down. River fought to raise his hands, to knock the knife away as it came down towards his chest but it was useless. ‘I’m sorry, Bronwyn. I love you.’

  They were the most selfish words he could have said at that moment, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop himself from saying them, just once, before he
died. They were the sweetest words he’d ever said.

  The knife bit into his skin and he grunted at the sharpness of the pain.

  The grunt turned into a gasp of surprise, because instead of plunging into his chest, puncturing his lungs and stopping his heart, the knife swept across his chest, biting into the skin, but going no deeper than a couple of layers. She made another sweeping slice across his skin. Five carving swipes. Each swipe a burning throb of pain. Hot blood dribbled down his sides as his lungs heaved, his heart a hurtful hummingbird banging against his ribs.

  The sigil she carved in his skin—there was something terribly wrong with it. The Beast stopped howling, stopped pushing and lunging to get out. It sat back, a satisfied hum in its throat. ‘What are you doing?’

  She didn’t answer, just put the knife down then held her hand high above him again. A fine sprinkle of something fell from her fingers. He hissed, jerking against his restraints as it fell on his wounds. Fuck. It was like she’d rubbed salt in his wound, except worse. It sizzled, burned. He looked down at his chest and saw the symbol she’d carved glowing like coal. He clenched his teeth against the pain as the glow brightened, but couldn’t help the groan that escaped as every sinew tightened, vibrating with the stress of the burning.

  Darkness edged his mind. Yes. Yes, he heard, a whisper filled with such emotionless cold it made him wish he could die rather than hear it again.

  Morrigan cried out another word. Orange light shot out of his chest, up and out of the moon door. River’s back came off the table, his restraints the only thing holding him down as the light lifted him, higher, higher. His wolf whimpered from that blocked-away part of his mind it had retreated to. But River clenched his teeth against the scream tearing at his throat.