Blood Moon

by KB Anne

  “She’s gone, isn’t she?” Dad whispers.

  “She is. I need to get you to Amorin’s. I can help you there.”

  “When Maleficium of such magnitude is performed on a person, death is certain. No amount of magic, no matter how powerful, can undo the damage. Please go and protect yourself and your brother. Clayone could be out there.”

  “I can’t leave without you.”

  “You have to . . .” he wheezes, gulping for air. “If not for yourself, for Scott. Please, Gigi.”

  I shake my head, refusing to listen.

  “Please, Gigi, for me.”

  I nod in agreement.

  He licks his lips. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you as a father.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to do this. I understand.” I don’t want him to strain himself any more than necessary.

  “No,” he whispers, shaking his head back and forth. “I am sorry that we put your protection above your need to be a child.”

  “Dad, you were there for me. You were there for everything—every birthday party, every recital, every holiday, every meeting with the principal.”

  He grunts. “But you didn’t know who I really was. You deserved to know the truth.”

  “Dad, I think I did know. I think deep down I’ve always known. You were there for me—every time I needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to . . . every time I needed a dad, you were there. You were always there. I love you.” And the dam opens.

  “I love you, Gigi. And Scott. Tell him how much I love him and how proud I am of the both of you. The two of you are destined to accomplish amazing things. Stories will be written of your greatness.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s get through tonight. Let me help you stand.”

  “Gi, it’s time to let me go. I love you both so much. Always remember that.” He wheezes, then his frame falls still. His chest rises and falls, but barely.

  “I will come back for you. I promise,” I whisper to him because I’m not ready to let him go.

  30

  Surprise Stalking

  Every ounce of my being wants to remain at Dad’s side and save him. Bring him back from wherever he’s gone to, but I must honor his wishes. I need to do that for him. Scott still needs me, and I promised Dad I would save him.

  I leave his still frame, not knowing how much longer he has. Not knowing how much longer I’ll need to ensure Scott’s safety before returning to him. Not knowing if that will be fast enough. I command myself to return to Scott. Return to him and save him.

  Never before have my footsteps been so heavy. Never before have I doubted so deeply if I can follow through with what I promised. But for Scott I’ll try. I carry the weight of death—of all the deaths—with me. Every step is a miracle. “For Scott. For Scott,” I chant to myself.

  For no one else could I keep going.

  There is no one else to keep going for.

  I stumble over a few loose stones as I enter the ruins. I drop roughly to the cold, hard floor. Injury to myself is of little consequence. I search Scott for any indication he’s still with me, but there’s no sign of life. Not even a faint heartbeat. The final blow of his death crushes me to the unforgiving ground.

  Lying in a state of complete and utter emptiness, too numb to feel the cold, too drained to mourn the loss, I stare at a small patch of shriveled black moss on the ruin’s floor—as dead as I feel inside. No healing touch. No magical ability. Dead like everyone else in my life. I watch this lifeless piece of vegetation as a soft rain begins to fall. Green sparkles spread across the moss. Then slowly, ever so slowly, so slowly that I blink a few times to confirm that it’s really happening and I’m not just seeing things, the moss turns to a brilliant shade of green. A green so bold and rich that I am reminded of another place. A place where time has no beginning and no end. If I can get to the fairy mound, I can return to the Otherworld and never feel again. Never feel pain. Never feel hurt or hope.

  But hope is exactly what I begin to feel as I watch the dazzling patch of green on the stone floor. And love. I feel love. So much love. A warm fuzzy sensation grows within me as memories of Alaric rise to my consciousness—his lips dancing across mine, his strong arms embracing me, his mischievous smile, his intoxicating scent smelling of Mother Earth herself. I remember the way one of Gram’s hugs felt like there was nothing in this world more important than me. My dancing sessions with my dad. The mutual love of friendship Lizzie and I shared. The joy I felt with Ryan’s dedication to his friends and to Lizzie. The laughter and sibling love felt between Scott and me. Thousands of memories spin and weave within me, reminding me why I’m here. To feel pain. To feel hurt. To feel love. To remember what it’s like to be human.

  Flashes of every reincarnation come flooding back to me all at once along with the memories of the gifts I brought—the love and the light. The healing. The inspiration. The magic. The joy. The hope. The hope I gave people. The hope that there was something greater than themselves. The hope that the sacrifices made today will be rewarded in this world or the next. The desolation I felt just moments ago is gone. Replaced with the realization . . .

  I am Brigit.

  A signal stone shifts, and I know I am no longer alone.

  31

  Hear Me Roar

  I’ve tempted fate one too many times not to be surprised as the killer stalks toward me, but still I am. An ocean separated us. An ocean for god’s sake. But still he’s here. Ready to rip out my throat.

  “I don’t understand. How did you get here?” I whisper, mesmerized by the supernatural glow of piercing yellow eyes moving toward me in the darkness. I should run and scream or do something, anything rather than stand still and stare, but his presence freezes me in place.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this moment,” he rasps, his hot breath searing the edges of my hair.

  “You were in the mountains around Clarissa’s church in Vernal Falls. How did you get here? You weren’t supposed to have the strength. My dad said you wouldn’t have the strength.”

  “And how would your father know what the most powerful werewolf can or can’t do? There is much you don’t know about me, but I know who you are. I know about you . . .”

  I pull back my shoulders and lift my chin. I am not afraid. I am a goddess. “You know nothing about me.”

  “Oh, I do. I know you never feel like you fit in, always the outcast because of a dead mother and no father to speak of. I know you constantly strive to prove yourself but always fall short.”

  “How could you know that?” I whisper.

  “When I bit your friends, I read their minds. They became part of my pack—my all-knowing pack. They provided me with enough nourishment to shed my tomb—young prey, full of life and vigor—and then, when the moon was last full, I feasted on your grandmother. Her gifts were plentiful. She gave me the strength to carry me here, along with the imprint of your scent.”

  “You killed Gram? She didn’t die of a heart attack?”

  “Of course I did. The blood of Brigit coursed through her veins. She had many years left to live, but she is no longer. Soon you will join her for all eternity. Never to return to this world or the next. I will destroy you, and the curse on me and all of my kind will be lifted forever.”

  The rain that once gave me hope stops. A bitter, cruel wind blows the cloud cover away. The Super Blue Blood Moon illuminates the night sky with an eerie red glow, revealing Clayone, a grotesquely shaped form, half-man, half-wolf. He is twice the size of Ryan with haunting yellow eyes, long matted fur, and sharp canines dripping with saliva. He stands on his two hind legs, not fully-shifted, making him more terrifying than anything I’ve ever seen. But I cannot act like I’m afraid. He feeds on fear.

  “Why do you believe I am the Goddess Brigit?”

  “Because I can smell it,” he snarls, edging dangerously close. A movement in the corner of my vision shifts my attention to Scott, his chest gently rising and falling. He’s a
live. Scott’s alive. Albeit barely. But enough to give me hope. Enough to give me courage. I am no longer afraid. I will do everything within my power to save him.

  I am Gigi.

  I am Brigit.

  And together we will save him. My healing chalice is close. I can feel it. But I cannot get to it with Clayone here.

  I embrace Gigi’s strengths, and she has many.

  “You can smell that I am the Goddess Brigit? Of course, I smell like her. I’m from her family line. No one can dispute my family tree. But to believe that I’m a goddess? You are sadly mistaken. In her last reincarnation, she left this world as pure as the day she arrived in it. I am far from pure. Light does not shine upon me.”

  “You lie.”

  “Do I? Or has Carman mislead you. You put your faith in the wrong person. So did I, and now everyone I love is dead. You’ve spent your entire life waiting for Brigit to reincarnate and just when you think you’ve found her, you’re as far away from the truth as I am.”

  “I can smell her blood in your veins. You are Brigit!” he roars, pulling up to his full height.

  “How do you know?” I ask again. “Because Carman told you? Because Calliope told you? Because of a little old prophecy? Come now, we both know anyone can make up a prophecy. They’ve both lied to you before. Why wouldn’t they lie to you now?”

  He hesitates, unsure what to make of my story. I take full advantage of his indecision. I edge toward the far wall.

  “She told you Brigit was reincarnated, but she didn’t tell you Oegden, her son, was. Why is that? Perhaps she’s trying to protect him still by distracting you. From what I understand, Calliope and Carman are quite talented in the Dark Arts. They’ve even acquired the Vessel of Life to bring back the dead. Did you know that?”

  The lies come easy now. They don’t physically hurt like all the lies that came before. Maybe with my close proximity to death, my body has decided to stop fighting against me.

  He steps toward me. “It makes no difference with the task before me.”

  Shit. That didn’t go as I expected. Time to reshuffle the bullshit. “You didn’t know, did you? Have you even spoken to Carman since you’ve returned?”

  “No,” he growls. “Is there a point to this line of questioning?”

  Oh, there’s a point all right.

  “She’s learned to manage the Dark Forces without the curse of the werewolf. Last I saw her she was preparing to summon the Fomorians—just think of the army she can assemble that wouldn’t ever have to change shape. It’s genius really. She distracts you with tales that I’m Brigit while she opens the portal to the Otherworld. Then, when her army is complete, she’ll destroy you. She has no need for an ally limited by the moon.”

  “I won’t be bound by the full moon once I kill you.”

  “She wants to rid the world of you.”

  “You lie!” he roars.

  “Do I, or does she? Do you really want to take that chance? Where can I go tonight? The power of the Super Blue Blood Moon on the eve of Samhain is on your side to aid you, along with my scent imprint. I am defenseless against you. But Carman and Calliope also have the power of the tonight’s moon. In just a short time, during the lunar eclipse, they’ll lift the veil and summon a great army that will destroy you and all your disciples. You don’t have much time. Tell me, are you prepared to battle the Fomorian army she plans to release?”

  Again, he hesitates, unsure what his next move should be. He glances at the moon. The narrowest sliver of a shadow falls across the edge of it. He has maybe an hour to an hour and a half before the full lunar eclipse. Over the past few weeks, I’ve become something of an expert in the moon phases, just in case there was some truth to all the Goddess Brigit nonsense. It turns out there was.

  He heaves several long breaths, and I know he’s debating whether to kill me now or wait until the predestined time when the moon will be fully eclipsed and he has the most power to gain. He growls as he paces back and forth. He could easily just kill me now and be done with it. Finally he throws back his head and howls in rage before sprinting off into the night.

  I stand in shock. I mean, I did offer a logical argument, but still, I never actually believed he’d leave me alone. The Fomorians must be truly horrific.

  They are.

  At least now when I hear voices in my head, I know it’s my Brigit alter ego talking. That’s a relief.

  I approach a perfectly ordinary flat brown stone that looks like every other stone on the floor except for one small detail—tiny flecks of gold only visible in the moonlight or rain. It’s a few feet away from the vault Amorin found this morning, but its contents are much different. I move the stone with a short incantation. “Entrance to my Shrine, open to the one true Goddess.”

  It magically shifts, revealing an opening in the floor and a stairway carved into the rock below.

  “I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Scott and slip down into the opening. In a way, it’s like I’m entering my own tomb, for I know the only way to trap Clayone away forever is to bind myself to him and seal ourselves inside forever. When we are bound, everyone I love, including all my people, will be safe, and I will perish for all time.

  A radiant glow emanating from the stone stairs illuminates the way to my shrine. Nineteen nuns tended my Flame in this castle, and on the twentieth night, I tended it to keep the faith alive in my people. The new Flame will burn forever if I save Scott.

  As I descend deeper into the shrine, even I, the Goddess Brigit, am amazed by the warmth permeating from the stone walls, the lack of dust and debris, the absence of rodent droppings or other signs of abandonment—almost like it’s been awaiting my return. Eighteen nuns never knew about this shrine. The nineteenth—the only one of my flesh and blood—did. Clarissa has cared for it for all these centuries—even when the original Flame was extinguished, for which I cannot fault her. When I granted her the gift of immortality, I chose well. Carman forsook me the moment she did not receive her desired appointment as the nineteenth nun.

  At the bottom, I follow a narrow passage and enter my shrine room on the right. Taking no notice of the gold ornamentation on the walls or the life-size statue of Brigit standing in the corner, I head directly to the stone alter and grab the ornate silver chalice before running back up the stairs. Scott hasn’t moved, but he’s still alive. I sense his life force.

  Kneeling by his feet, I lift his left pant leg and remove the silver dagger from his ankle strap. The moonlight reflects off it as I drag the blade across my palm while chanting a healing incantation. I allow the blood to flow freely into the silver chalice. After a few drops have fallen, I place the dagger by Scott’s side and raise the chalice to the moon in offering. I chant, “From my blood, the Fallen shall be restored.” Once blessed, I bring it to his mouth.

  “Scott, drink this please.”

  His lips open, and I pour the liquid down his throat. Suddenly, his breathing stops.

  “Scott! Scott!” I shout, shaking him. “Scott, wake up. I know you can hear me! Please Scott, wake up! Open your eyes! Scott, please!” I beg over and over, shaking him, but he won’t respond. No sarcastic retort. No flippant remark. Nothing.

  “Not Scott, please not Scott,” I plead to the heavens above, holding him tightly against me. “You’ve taken everyone I love from me! Please just leave Scott. Don’t take Scott. Please not Scott!”

  A light rain begins to fall again. Wetness permeates my clothing, but it doesn’t matter. I am as powerless against the elements as I am against everything while in human form. I am not some awe-inspiring goddess who unites the world for a common cause. I am not some all-knowing oracle who illuminates the path to knowledge for future generations. I am not a protector or a great healer. Without Scott, I am broken. Without Scott, I am nothing.

  I took too long to realize I am Brigit, and now everyone I love is dead. They died for me. I couldn’t save any of them. I took too long. I was too late.

  “Too late,” I sob. �
�I was too late.” I wail into the moonlight, clutching my brother to my chest.

  “I’m not supposed to be here by myself, all alone. It can’t be over. It can’t end like this. I can’t be too late!” Tears stream down my face and I howl, not caring who hears me, not caring that Clayone may return any minute. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” I cry burying my face in his chest.

  “Sorry for what?” he mumbles.

  I yank him to my chest. I can feel his life force returning to his limbs, his body, his soul. “You’re alive! I can’t believe it. It really worked,” I cry into his hair. I saved him. I did it. I did what I wanted to do.

  But before he can reply, before we can rejoice together, heavy, ragged breathing reeking of death fills the space between us. We both stiffen and pull away from each other to face our worst nightmare.

  “What do we have here?” Clayone growls. “A joyful reunion?”

  I glare at him, anger and hate replacing my happiness. “You’re back.”

  He steps toward us. As much as I don’t want to leave Scott, I shift away from him to put distance between us. Scott will not be a part of this death match.

  As if by lunar pull, Clayone moves with me. “You tricked me into believing that Carman and Calliope were amassing an army to rise up against me. You made me question their purpose. Me, the most powerful being the world has ever known—the most powerful being the world will know—believing your lies.”

  “They’re not lies,” I growl.

  He grunt-laughs. “Calliope’s dead body is a hundred yards from where I stand . . .”

  Scott collapses back into the stone.

  “. . . and Carman’s fallen form lies across her alter on the brink of death. She’s in no condition to release any Fomorians tonight. You are Brigit, and that is Oegden. I’ll take care of him once I’m through with you. His powers haven’t kept me down for thousands of years. His powers haven’t made me a slave to the moon. But no more. Tonight I will have my revenge, and tomorrow the world will bow to me.”