Taken by Moonlight

by Violette Dubrinsky

  “You are safe, ma puce. I will explain everything.”

  Turning her head, she saw Conall and Max, changed into things that could not be mistaken for human on a good day, things that shouldn’t exist. She remembered her mother’s voice in her head, and her mother appearing out of thin air.

  Witch.

  Someone had called her mother a witch. She blinked as an image flashed into her mind. Her mother was kneeling, one hand on Vivienne’s forehead, the other on her sister’s, as she repeated words in Latin. Vivienne blinked. That had never happened, so why was she remembering it? She tried to shake her head, but instead, settled for blinking again.

  “You are safe, Vivienne.” She felt hands touch her face, gentle, warm hands. Someone roared her name in the background. Conall. She blinked once more but her lids refused to reopen this time. Her mother was speaking—chanting—once more. She felt herself falling.

  ***

  Conall watched with his heart in his throat as the witch leaned over an unconscious Vivienne. She froze suddenly and lifted her head, locking pitch-black eyes with his yellow glare. Growling, he took a step in her direction, forgetting for the moment that he was still in the midst of fighting the trackers. A searing pain shot through his thigh and he looked down to see a bleeding gash there. The tracker who’d delivered it pressed forward again, but Conall was focused once more, and as the tracker charged, he jumped aside as his claw laid open the bastard’s jugular. Eyes widening, the tracker clutched his throat and fell backward.

  Before the body hit the ground, another ran toward him. He blocked the magic thrown at him and launched himself at the tracker. Four long talons, as sharp as diamond-cut blades, pushed into the soft tissue of the man’s belly, and ripped up.

  A gurgle left his lips as his mouth opened on a silent scream. Pushing him back, Conall looked around, noticing that the number of trackers was steadily dwindling. Most had died and disintegrated but some still squirmed on the floor. Two were attacking Max, and he watched, impressed, as Max, now a creature he was unfamiliar with, held them back. Now certain that Max was protecting Vivienne, he ran for the one at Max’s back. They fell to the ground together, with the tracker conjuring a spell to render Conall immobile. It was a weak spell, one that he, as an ancient were with Celtic roots, had learned years ago to counter. The witch smiled, thinking he would be unable to move, and readied his attack. Conall returned the spell, moments before his wolf fully took over and rows of sharp teeth closed over the confused man’s throat. The tracker’s scream was cut short when he tore savagely. At that moment, another scream rang out, and the black wolf turned in the direction. Another tracker was suspended mid-air by Max’s hand at his throat. Max pulled something…mist-like and fine…from him.

  Lifting its massive head, the black wolf scanned the area where Vivienne had been. She wasn’t there. None of them were! He paced the lobby, with unflinching precision snapping the necks of those who still lived. He didn’t know the reason behind the attack today, but whenever trackers were sent after someone, it was usually because someone wanted the person dead. He snapped his jaws together as he walked over to the last place that he’d seen his mate. The wolf picked up her scent as well as the scent of the witches, five males and a female. He snarled, remembering them crowding Vivienne as he was attacked by other members of their covenant.

  The witches had reneged on their oath when they attacked what was his, and he was going to return their assault tenfold. A growl left his lips and he forced the change. His beast retreated as his naked body crouched low. Small red cuts, a result of his fast-healing blood cells, marred his previously smooth skin.

  A body hit the floor and he turned his head to find one of the trackers lying prone on the ground. Within seconds, he disintegrated.

  “She’s in Scarsdale,” Max grunted out. His human color had returned, but his face was ashen, and a hand held tightly to his side.

  “The witches took her.”

  “No, that was her mother. I’ve been to her house before so I can lead the way.”

  Conall’s ears perked at that information. Her mother? Of course. If Vivienne was a witch, then at least one of her parents was a witch as well.

  “Give me the directions.” He stood. Scarsdale was about an hour’s ride away from Cedar Creek, so about an hour and a half from the city. He would get them there in less than forty-five minutes. “Let’s go.”

  A hand landed on his arm, and Conall spun angrily. He didn’t like to be touched without permission.

  “You walk outside like that, and you’ll get arrested,” Max said, his voice strained. He was referring to Conall’s nakedness as well as the blood stains that covered most of his body. “Vivienne’s safe with Evelyn. She’s a strong witch, and she’s managed to hide her for twenty-three years.”

  “Hide her?” Conall asked immediately, “Hide her from what?”

  Max nodded and swallowed, the hand at his side tightening. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Just give me a minute.”

  Conall’s gaze fell to the younger man’s hand. “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.” He paused and his eyes closed briefly before his hand dropped. When Max next opened his eyes, they were clear, and he seemed to breathe easier. “I need to change clothes.” He gave Conall a once-over. “And you need clothes. I’m sure I have something that’ll fit you.”

  Conall’s lip curled upward but he didn’t protest. Max was right. He could walk outside as he was, and get into a brawl with a cop that would expose his race to the humans, or he could put on some form of clothing—no matter how tight it would probably be—and be on his way. When he thought of it like that, it wasn’t really an option.

  ***

  Vivienne snuggled closer to the soft, cushiony pillow and opened her eyes. She was mid-stretch when her memory surfaced. Bolting upright, she looked around, homing in on the soft green walls and bay windows. She was in her old room, in her parents’ house. Strange, but she didn’t remember coming here. But everything had happened, hadn’t it? The ninjas in black, Conall turning into the wolf-man, Max turning blue, her mother?

  At that moment, the door opened and the person in question strode in, a large smile on her face and carrying a tray of tea and Swiss chocolate biscuits.

  Vivienne shot from the bed and pressed herself to the wall.

  “Oh, ma chère,” Evelyn said softly, placing the tray on the covers before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “You and Cassandre are dearer to me than my own life. I know you are afraid, and how could you not be, but everything I have done was for you and your sister.” She paused and closed her eyes, and Vivienne saw the sadness in her mother’s expression before Evelyn smiled once more and patted the bed. “Come, my Vivienne, sit down and I will explain everything.” She looked up at Vivienne and smiled, before turning her attention to the silver teapot.

  Vivienne watched as she poured hot tea into two cups, and lifted one in her hands. Her mother took a sip and sighed.

  “It’s your favorite—orange pekoe, and I remember how much you like Swiss chocolate biscuits,” Evelyn coaxed softly.

  “What are you?” Vivienne asked, her voice trembling as she braced back against the wall.

  “Won’t you sit, my Vivienne?” Evelyn asked softly, and then said, “I am a witch, but if the explanation were that simple I would not need you to sit as well.”

  “What happened? Why—how did I get here?”

  “You fainted, Vivienne. I brought you here.”

  She nodded, and her gaze left her mother briefly to look around the room. “Where’s Drew?”

  “Sleeping in the guest room. Much like you, she’s had a traumatic day.”

  “Conall?”

  Her mother’s dark brows lifted a fraction but she said, “I am sure he and Max are on their way here as we speak.”

  Evelyn smiled and patted the bed once more. Vivienne cautiously took a seat at the edge of the mattress, her body ramrod straight as she faced her mother. Evelyn ind
icated the tea. “Drink the tea, ma chère. It will calm you.”

  As she stared at the silver cup, her eyes narrowing. Her mother huffed and Vivienne lifted her eyes to the face she’d known, yet apparently not known, for years.

  “It is not poisoned, Vivienne.” She sounded hurt, but covered it with a small, almost understanding smile. “I’ve only added orange pekoe, and two spoons of sugar. Would you like me to taste it?”

  It was amazing that Evelyn, even after revealing she was a witch, could reduce Vivienne to a guilty-feeling six-year-old with her rebukes. Trusting the instinct that told her her mother would never hurt her, Vivienne reached for the tea and took a sip. It was the perfect temperature, extremely warm, but not hot, and as the warmth seeped into her body, she felt her muscles relax, and her head clear. She took another sip, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Evelyn was holding out the tray of biscuits. She immediately took one, and when her stomach demanded more, Vivienne polished off three more.

  Satisfied that she was drinking the tea and had eaten, Evelyn began to speak. “I was born in Paris to parents whose love for each other defied their communities. My mother was the daughter of a witch and a druid—”

  Vivienne almost choked, but recovered quickly. “Druid, as in the druids we read about in ancient mythology?”

  Her mother leaned over and rubbed her back gently, before nodding. “They are one and the same, but as most historians are human, they don’t know the true origins of the druids. It is said that the gods played a part in the creation of the druids.”

  “Gods?” First druids, and now gods? She only knew of one God. Vivienne gulped her tea.

  “Yes, the gods. They are most popular in their Greek names: Zeus, Artemis, Apollo, Aphrodite—”

  Vivienne let out a disbelieving chuckle, and placed her cup back onto the tray. She lifted her hands to her temples and shook her head before saying in a clear, passionate voice, “You’re Christian, Mom! I know you’re not a devout Christian, but we celebrate Easter and Christmas and Thanksgiving.” Thanksgiving wasn’t a Christian holiday, she knew, but Vivienne felt the need to throw it in there, too.

  “Because I wanted to raise you and Cassandre in a normal setting. That is why I haven’t told you any of this before now. I hoped you’d be able to live normal, human lives. Also, your father is Christian, sweetheart.”

  “Dad’s a witch too, isn’t he? You’re both witches and so Cassie and I are witches too? Is that it? That’s the secret? That’s why you wanted me to sit down?”

  Evelyn reached for Vivienne’s hand and clasped it in her own. “Vivienne, listen to me. Your father is not a witch. He’s human, and doesn’t know what I am. Remember what I’ve said: everything I did, I did for you and your sister.” She paused before continuing. “Do you remember the stories I told you and Cassie when you were children? Of a powerful woman named Selene, who created children in her image?”

  Vivienne shook her head, but the name sounded familiar. Selene.

  Evelyn sighed. “Perhaps you were too young to remember. Selene is a goddess, and she is known by many names. Luna is more familiar to some people, but Artemis is the name most humans know her by: the goddess of the hunt. She created the witches first, and later on, the werewolves. Please, just listen, ma chère, I promise it will all make sense.” She paused and Vivienne noticed her eyes were darkening. Lifting her hands, Evelyn slowly reached forward, scooting further up the bed, until her palms rested on either side of Vivienne’s head. “As my mother explained it to me, I will explain it to you.”

  Once more, that feeling of the winter chill and just as quickly the summer heat blasted through Vivienne’s body.

  Relax, ma puce. I am here and you are safe.

  She did as her mother commanded, and slowly blinked her eyes open. She was no longer in her room, but in another, watching as a pale little girl with golden eyes and thick, black hair sat up in a tiny bed, love and adoration in her eyes as she stared at the woman kneeling beside her.

  Opening her mouth, she spoke the quick and excited French of a child.

  “Will you tell me the story of the gods, Maman?”

  “Again, my sweet?”

  The girl’s head bobbed up and down in excitement as she clutched a well-used cloth doll to her body.

  “All right. The gods created everything: you and me, and the beautiful world around us. They are powerful beings and we pray to them for health, strength and happiness.”

  “And the witches, Maman?” It was clear that the child had a keen interest in them.

  “Ah, my love, the witches are the children of Luna, the Goddess of the Moon.”

  “Just as I am your child?”

  A gale of soft laughter came from the woman, and Vivienne tried to take a step forward so she could see her face. Something held her back, and she turned to find her mother standing next to her with a sad smile on her face.

  No, Vivienne. The past should only be observed, never interfered with.

  “Yes, but to a greater extent. Do you remember the stories I told you about Zeus, and how he created humans?” When the child nodded, the woman continued, “Well, after he did this, Luna, his favorite, begged him for the power of creation, and when he gave it to her, she created her own people, the witches. Zeus was impressed with them because unlike his humans, they had some of the powers of gods and the stretch of immortality. Zeus was so pleased with Luna that he left the power of creation with her.”

  “What about vampires and werewolves?”

  “After Luna created the witches, her sister, Aphrodite, who was jealous of Zeus’s affection for Luna, begged Zeus for the power of creation as well, and when he gave it, she created the vampires. They were as beautiful as gods and immortal. Zeus showed her his favor by calling her the most beautiful of his daughters, but still he favored Luna. Because she was jealous, Aphrodite sent an army of vampires after the witches.” She paused when the girl’s eyes grew wide, and placed a graceful hand against her cheek. “But fear not, my little darling. Luna saw what was happening to her people and went to her twin brother, Apollo, for help—”

  “Apollo is the God of the Sun?” The child sounded excited to remember that information, and from the tone of voice the older woman used, Vivienne could tell the mother was proud.

  “Yes, my love. When he saw what the vampires were doing to his sister’s creation, Apollo turned his rays against them, driving them to the night. He cursed them, saying that anything touched by his rays would be poison to their bodies.”

  “And what of the werewolves like my papa?”

  “Despite Apollo’s curses, the vampires continued to terrorize the witches at night, so Luna created another race to protect them. They were immortal too, and as flawless as vampires, but they could change at will into powerful animals. Wolves, and tigers, and lions, even dragons. Because the weres protected the witches, the vampires left them alone.”

  “Are you a witch, Maman?”

  Another light laugh and then Vivienne heard childish giggles as the woman leaned forward and tickled the girl’s belly.

  “Yes, my sweet, but my mother was druide.”

  The child’s brows furrowed. “What’s druide?”

  “You are very inquisitive tonight, my Aveline,” the woman teased softly, leaning forward to place a kiss on the girl’s forehead. Vivienne gasped. Aveline was the distinctly French pronunciation of Evelyn. Was the girl on the bed her mother?

  The woman turned suddenly and stared at her. Vivienne found herself looking at a thinner, paler version of her mother. Instead of Evelyn’s black hair, the woman had bone-straight blond hair; instead of her mother’s golden eyes, she possessed startling green eyes, but their bone structure was the same. Evelyn’s face was a bit fuller, but Vivienne had no doubt this was the grandmother that her mother always spoke of.

  “What’s druide, Maman?”

  Dark blond brows lifted in Vivienne’s direction, and her eyes narrowed slightly before Annabel turned back to th
e child.

  “Ah, les druide were the children of gods.”

  “So why aren’t they gods?”

  “Because they are human, too.”

  “Where is your mother, Maman?”

  The woman’s voice was sad as she replied, “In my heart.”

  The child giggled and the mother laughed, though it lacked enthusiasm.

  “Shall I carry you in my heart too, Maman?”

  “If you want. I always carry you in mine.”

  “I will carry you in my heart, too, because then I’ll always have you with me.”

  Vivienne blinked as the image slipped away from her, leaving her back in her own bedroom with Evelyn. Slowly, her mother lowered her hands to her lap, and Vivienne caught sight of pitch-black eyes before the color shifted to liquid honey.

  “You’re Aveline?” Although stated as a question, Vivienne knew the answer. The woman had been too familiar in features to be unrelated to her mother, the name too similar to Evelyn.

  “Yes, mon coeur. That is the name my mother gave me.” When Vivienne only stared at her, Evelyn added, “I changed my name when I left France.”

  “And the woman with the green eyes was your mother?”

  Evelyn grew sad for a moment, but she nodded. “Yes.”

  “You really are a witch.” Even Vivienne was surprised by the calmness of her voice.

  “My mother was a witch and a druid, my father a werewolf. Inside of me are all three, but I am strongest as a witch.”

  Vivienne nodded, and sighed, accepting that there was no other explanation for her being able to see what she had seen without her mother being something that was distinctly nonhuman. Witch.

  “If you’re all three, what am I?” The question had been in her mind since her mother began speaking of witches and gods and druids, but now, only now did she feel strong enough to voice it.

  Her mother seemed to contemplate answering before she sighed and replied, “You are a druid, Vivienne, as is your sister. You two are the first druids born in almost a century, and that is why the witches are tracking you.”