Blood Moon

by KB Anne

  Dad turns to me and says, “Gigi, do not—”

  Abruptly the vision cuts off. I stare at the flames in disbelief.

  “Was that real?” I whisper into the fire.

  “Oh yes, dear. Your father is locked in a tower somewhere, and you’re the only one who can find and free him. The moon was full in the tower window. You must go when the moon is at its lunar fullness. Do you know when that is?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “You are correct.”

  “I saw my brother and his mother too.”

  “Thoughts, dear, only thoughts. You’ve probably been thinking about your brother since you’ve been away from each other. It’s only natural his mother would be at his side.”

  “Dad started to talk to me. He said, ‘Do not . . .’ but he was cut off.”

  “Ah, yes, we are so anxious to see the ones we care about that we often project messages into our own minds. But visions cannot speak to us . . . they merely provide a picture. It is up to us to discover the answers.” She gently pats me on the back, but it does nothing to relieve my anxiety over the appearance of my brother or Calliope.

  She spreads her arms out, as if pulling everyone to her. “Does anyone else have a request?”

  One female member about my age with mousy brown hair squeaks, “I want Elijah to fall in love with me.”

  “Do you have the sacrifice?”

  The girl produces a piece of hair and an article of clothing from her bag. She hands it over to Carman. Carman passes her a piece of straw before taking a cold, calculating look at me, as if assessing my reaction to what’s about to occur.

  “The boy’s full name?”

  “Elijah Murphy.”

  “Elijah Murphy, Elijah Murphy,” she chants, throwing the girl’s sacrifice into the fire, “Let your heart dance before Marie Donahue. She will control the strings, and you will obey every whim.” Then she murmurs something so low I miss it, though I’m standing right next to her. She turns to Marie and indicates the fire with a grand sweeping of her arm. Marie touches the straw to her heart, then to her lips, before tossing it into the fire. The straw bursts into flames. Slender tendrils of smoke glide into the air before disappearing into the darkness.

  “Any other requests?” Carman asks the crowd.

  A male, around thirty years old, steps forward. “My wife’s been fornicating with Alexander McConnell. I want them to pay.”

  Carman contemplates him. The anger in his tight white fists, his stiff shoulders, and his clenched jaw all point to revenge, which he’ll get one way or another.

  “Tonight is not a night of retribution. Tonight we celebrate the possibility of a different tomorrow, the possibility of new beginnings.”

  The man opens his mouth to argue with her but stops when Carman silently chants something. His eyes bulge out of his head, and he immediately withdraws from the circle.

  For the remainder of the evening, visions dance before me. I witness spells ranging from healing ones to promises of good fortune. Power swirls in the air around Carman. She grows younger as the flames lick the sky, yet no fuel has been added. For the first time since discovering that witches, werewolves, and magic are real, I witness true power, and its name is Maleficium. If I could harness it, I could defeat Clayone. I would never sleep in fear again. I would no longer need to remain wide awake.

  27

  Blood Suckers

  Amorin knocks at my door entirely too early. I am by no stretch of the imagination ready to wake up and face this day. He peeks in.

  “Gigi, child, we need to begin the preparations for this evening. Are you ready?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I mumble, stretching my sore limbs.

  “Late night last night?”

  Again, I mumble something resembling, “Mm-hmm, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “Take your time. Clarissa and several coven members are here. More are on their way over.”

  Pulling the blankets over my head and going back to sleep sounds like the smartest way to spend this day, but a sense of obligation to Gram and Scott, to Mom and Dad, to even Lizzie and Ryan, overshadows my desire to sleep. Coven members have traveled from all over the globe for this night. For me. I must not let them down. Tonight, I will play the role of goddess, and when the werewolf army doesn’t take over the world, they’ll realize they put their faith in the wrong girl.

  Before joining everyone outside, I head to the kitchen to make some of Gram’s tea. Habit I guess. Now that I know I’ve been spelled, I’m not sure I should drink it. Will my powers reveal themselves in a giant fireball if I stop drinking it? I smell the loose tea leaves. The scent reminds me of her, and today of all days, I need the comfort of my gram. I decide to brew a cup. Just one more, I say to myself, but I know I’ll drink it until the blend is gone and Gram disappears with it.

  After my first sip, the soreness in my arms and legs slips away as the healing powers of the herbs seep into my bloodstream. But I still don’t feel myself. An intense heat radiates off me, even though the cottage is freezing. I wrap a blanket around me as a robe before shuffling out to the garden. Maybe I’m coming down with the flu.

  When Clarissa sees me, she drops the basket she’s carrying. Herbs fly in every direction. The other people gasp at the sight of me—which is pretty freaking rude considering they think I’m a reincarnated goddess and they’re acting like I’m spewing green bile out of my mouth as my head spins in circles.

  “Gigi, what happened to you?” she cries, rushing over to me.

  I back away from her, knocking into Amorin. He quickly grabs me before I can get away.

  “Where were you last night?”

  “I was at a friend’s house.”

  She presses her fingers into my forehead. Warmth radiates from them. “What friend? What were you doing?”

  I try to pull away from Amorin’s grasp, but he’s surprisingly strong for an old guy. Eventually, when Clarissa releases her voodoo touch, he lets me go.

  I step away from them. “What’s the big deal? What’s wrong with me?”

  A woman I don’t know thrusts a mirror in front of my face. A freak stares back at me. My pupils have all but removed even a trace of the aquamarine of my iris. My cheeks are pinched and hollow. It’s like my skin shrank, and my skull is too large for what’s left. Tentatively, I reach up to touch my face, not trusting the mirror.

  “You witnessed sorcery last night, didn’t you?” Amorin says.

  “No, I was with Alaric last night. We had a campfire and stayed up late. I’m just tired and probably having a reaction to the smoke or something.”

  Like searing the lining of my larynx.

  Clarissa and the rest of the coven members stare at me. I can tell they don’t believe a word I’m saying. I may not be able to read their minds, but their facial expressions reveal everything I need to know.

  “What’s the big deal anyway?”

  “Sorcery is extremely powerful dark magic,” Clarissa says. “It creates doubt in people who don’t believe in the power of meditation. It’s a shortcut, and there is a great price for those who follow it—at their demise, their souls will be cast down to Derg in the Underworld instead of entering the Otherworld. They forfeit all chances of reincarnation. Followers of dark magic manage to keep themselves alive way beyond their life expectancy by sucking the life from the living. From the pure. Your face bears the mark of exposure.” She reaches up to touch me again. I back away from her.

  “I’m having a reaction to the smoke or dust or something. I had no exposure to sorcery, nor did I give anyone permission to suck my blood. Besides, I’m not pure anyway. No one would benefit from sucking anything from me.”

  She studies me. “They don’t suck your blood, child. They suck your life force, and yours is terribly weakened.”

  I go almighty goddess on them by lifting my chin, sticking out my chest, and speaking in a manner that suggests I’m enlightened. It’s a crock of shit, I know, but they leave me with no ch
oice. “My life force is fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to some things before this evening.”

  Amorin and Clarissa, along with the rest of the coven, watch me leave. I’m struck with the irony that the two people who believed in me the most, Gram and Dad, would never have let me go, but they’re not here. Meditation and chanting did not bring my Lizzie back from the dead, or stop Ryan from turning into a werewolf, or even keep Gram alive. If I spent decades learning Druidry and studying with the Order, maybe I’d believe their way would work, but I didn’t, and I don’t. I witnessed the power of Maleficium last night. With it, I can save my dad. With it, I can defeat Clayone. And if it means I will be cast into the Underworld without the chance of reincarnation, so be it.

  28

  Towering Discoveries

  My vision revealed Dad was locked in a tower. According to the map, there’s a large, round tower along the northeastern outskirts of Kildare. It’s the only place I haven’t been to yet, and while it would be remarkably convenient and easy if he was there, I’m not going to hold my breath. My life has never been that simple. Carman said I should wait until evening, but I made a promise to Alaric, and for once I plan to keep it.

  Age and elements have worn away the yellow stone blocks of the tower, creating a pockmarked exterior surface. Moss and ivy took up residence long ago, giving the stone a weird otherworldly glow. It is as if the tower grew out of the earth. There’s not a door or a visible entrance that I can see around the base of it. If I asked Rapunzel to let down her fair hair, I wonder if she’d oblige.

  Around the back side of the tower, there’s large stone that could be a door. I press on it and realize it’s not stone at all. It’s a thick wooden door painted to blend in with the stone block, and there’s a small hole where a key or a handle must go. I wedge my finger into it and pull, but my pinkie, while capable of miraculous thievery at times, does not wield a force mighty enough to open it. Kneeling in front of the door, I scour the ground for a stick or rock I can wedge into it. Then I remember the stone I found at the fairy mound. It’s just the right size for the hole. I unwind one of my wire necklaces and wrap it around the stone. Lizzie showed me an unlocking spell when we were looking through the spell book weeks ago. At the time, I was only thinking about breaking into Kensey’s house and stealing something of hers just to mess with her head, but maybe it’ll work now.

  I begin chanting in Gaelic, waving the makeshift key over the door around and around. When the stone warms and begins to glow, I place it in the door and pull. The door creaks and moans, shifting and sagging, until it finally opens. Before entering, I withdraw the stone and hold on to it, letting its warmth and light fill me with courage. I glance behind me to ensure I wasn’t followed.

  The soft glow of the stone casts enough light for me to see inside the tower. In my vision there was a window, but it’s only midday and there’s no evidence of a window anywhere. I climb the rickety stairs, holding tightly to the railing. Angry creaks and bellows follow me all the way up. I hope the steps are strong enough to hold my weight on the way down or it’ll be a quick, neat death for me. At the landing there’s another door, which is also locked. I wave the stone key and chant again. The stone glows bright, and I hear the gentle click of the internal locking mechanism. The unlocking spell will come in handy when I go home, and Lizzie and I could . . . Then I remember I will never do anything with Lizzie ever again because she’s dead, and I need to accept that. And I would, except for the fact that I am stubborn and I refuse to acknowledge that she’s gone forever. If I can find the Vessel of Life, I can bring her back. I can bring them all back. Voldemort split his soul every time he killed someone and placed it in a Horcrux. I’ll do the reverse—bring everyone I love back to life and split my own soul in the process. My soul for their life? That’s not even a contest.

  Something or someone moves inside the room. The window from my vision casts a dim light, and there in the shadows is Dad, chained to the floor. A foul smell fills my nostrils. His captors didn’t even allow him to use a bathroom—the monsters.

  “Dad,” I shout, running over to him.

  “Gigi, my little girl, what are you doing here? I told you not to come.”

  His admonishment hurts me more than a punch ever could. “I thought that was just a dream. Carman said messages are only in the mind.”

  “Carman is the one who put me in here.” His voice sounds dry and hoarse, not at all like himself. “Gigi, listen to me. Calliope is alive. She has Scott.”

  The wind knocks out of me. “He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be safe in juvie. She’s supposed to be dead.”

  He reaches for me, but the chains don’t allow him much freedom. I move over to him. His touch fills me with warmth.

  “Calliope must have brought him over after we left. She and Carman are working together.”

  Another punch.

  “They’re evil witches who practice Maleficium—sorcery—the most powerful type of dark magic there is.”

  Bile climbs up my throat. “Maleficium is dark magic?”

  “The worst type of dark magic. Listen to me. They’re planning something huge. I think they want to bridge the gap between our world and the Otherworld, and tonight, with the Super Blue Blood Moon on the lunar eclipse, they can do it. They can release the Fomorians, the most terrible demons that ever walked the Earth. I think they’re trying to bypass Clayone completely.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “To throw the world into chaos. They want dominion over every living creature. There’s too much to explain. You need to get back to Amorin’s and do what they tell you. Our prime objective tonight is to protect you from Clayone. No one else matters. Do you understand?” He searches my eyes.

  Clayone’s thousands of miles away. Dad must be completely delusional.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me? I am everything to them because of you, but I am nothing to them if they can’t get you. Amorin and Clarissa know where I am. They’ve known since I went missing.”

  The stab of betrayal rushes through me. “What? They lied to me.”

  “Gi, they just didn’t share their knowledge with you. They’ll come for me tomorrow. But tonight you need to go to them and let them protect you. Now go, before someone comes.”

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “Carman and Calliope mustn’t get to you, or you will be sacrificed. Now go,” he says ripping his hands from mine.

  “Dad, I can’t,” I whimper, throwing my arms around him.

  “You can, and you must. Don’t worry about anyone but yourself. Stay safe. Now go,” he says.

  “Dad . . .”

  “Go. We don’t have much time.”

  “Dad . . .”

  His eyes tear up. “Gigi, if you love me, you will do this for me.”

  I blink back my own tears and disappear down the stairs. Upon exiting the tower, I search the horizon for potential enemies. The clear blue skies give no hint of the terrible storm brewing.

  I take a deep breath and run. Not in the direction of Amorin’s, but to prepare for battle. There’s only one way to protect the ones I love . . .

  I need to ask the real Brigit for help.

  29

  Tallest Tower Trappings

  No one followed me from the round tower, or if they tried to, they’d be shit out of luck. I wound through the streets of Kildare as if I had spent my life wandering through the town. I slipped down alleys, trespassed across people’s backyards, and climbed over fences. No way, no how, did anyone follow me. I even stopped once in a while and stood watch so if anyone was following me, they’d get a face full of pepper spray.

  Slipping the triskele-engraved stone from my pocket to my hand, I circle the fairy mound, three times clockwise, then three times counterclockwise. I close my eyes and plead for divine assistance from the one person who can help me: the true Brigit.

  “The time has come to lend a hand. Please all
ow me to enter in order to find instruction. If shown the way, I cannot fail. Believe in me, as I have come to believe in you.”

  A heavy fog, warm and inviting, blankets the valley as two white stone columns with an archway materialize before me. I glance backward once before entering, but I don’t need to worry about being followed here. The thickness of the fog will obscure the view of anyone watching. As the fog envelops me, the rules of Earth’s gravitational pull lift, and my body becomes weightless.

  My spiritual journey with Amorin to the Otherworld did little to prepare me for the splendor before me now. Captivating emerald-green landscapes, mesmerizing azure blue skies, and a timeless wonder permeate as if the very air is alive. And maybe it is. Every sense is heightened. The air smells sweet and delicious, leaving me content and sated like I just ate a fulfilling meal, though I can’t really remember the last time I ate. The quiet babble of water far in the distance calls me to discover its source, but the hedge maze looms before me, far more formidable than in my previous spiritual visit. With my vision crystal clear, it’s almost as if the path through the maze is already laid out for me, and there is nothing to do but follow it.

  Turning on instinct at each intersection, I follow along confidently, but as I venture deeper into the maze and the minutes tick away and there’s no hope of retracing my steps, I start to panic. I mean, who am I kidding? Do I really believe that I’m actually capable of getting through the maze, learning what I need to while there, and returning in time to save Dad? It’s ridiculous. Idiotic. It’s . . .

  I round the final corner and the courtyard presents itself to me, amazing.

  I made it. I actually did it.

  The small courtyard hosts a lovely garden of butterfly bushes, phlox, bee balm, and foxglove, along with dozens of other familiar herbs and wildflowers. Under normal circumstances, the gardens would beckon me to stop and investigate, but today far more important matters require my attention. An intricately carved granite foundation with a delicate sculpture of a green-hued copper fairy features prominently in the heart of the courtyard. As I approach, the fairy winks at me then tilts her head to the bench on the other side where Gram and Mom wait for me.