Blood Moon_A novel of the Paramortals

by Livia Quinn

  He eased back on his stool and slouched indolently against the bar, raising the glass to his lips with half lidded eyes. "And I care because..."

  She rolled her eyes, long dark lashes nearly touching her eyebrows. The huge violet orbs returned to his, fearless and challenging, and sarcasm dripped from her lips in a lovely mesmerizing accent. "Oh, I didn't expect you to care after studying you for the last twenty minutes, but don't expect me to leave any stone unturned."

  So, she'd been watching him for that long. River resisted shaking his head in wonder. He'd been so absorbed in his new problem, she'd slipped up on him. Emotions continued to beat at him, turning his gut to acid. He set the glass down and raised his head, openly studying her. Not a local, judging by her dialect, but she was a real badass. He grinned, guessing it would turn that redheaded temper up a notch. "Would you like a drink?"

  Squinting up at him, she asked, "Why do you try to distract me with drink? I sense you are hiding something. Have you seen him? It would not be wise to obfuscate."

  He might have flinched under her fierce gaze if he hadn't been struck by her choice of words. Obfuscate—hide the truth. Once again, River steeled himself not to react under that wild glare, wondering if she was one of many with some mind-reading ability. Was she some kind of faerie with those violet eyes? They were similar to Arabella's, the queen of the Fae and Tempe's friend. If so, she might already know what he was hiding. He maintained his expression of aloofness.

  Receiving no response from him, she cursed succinctly and motioned to the bartender who walked to the end of the bar and produced her long sword. She turned toward him and River expected her to reach for it but with a slight tilt of her chin the sword left the bartender's hands and sank into the sheath on her back…sliding home.

  Her head swiveled back to him. "Now, I must leave, per the rules. But first, I want you to tell me when you last saw this man." She whipped out a beige piece of parchment and an image formed, drawn skillfully with magical inks. He sensed it on the paper and was careful not to touch it.

  She'd said when not if. River remained stoic as the elemental ink became bolder and the spaces filled in to reveal the face of the being he'd spoken to just hours before—Styx. He couldn't lie so he deflected, "What is he to you?"

  The high arch of one perfect brow preceded her answer. "Oh, me?" she said in a beautiful lilting cadence. "I'm what you might call a dragonhunter hunter. I'm going to take his head."

  She followed that bold edict with a swirl of hair and a sway of hips in the direction of the tunnel. River couldn't help it. He devoured her every step until she was out of sight.

  That didn't exactly shake him out of his feeling of doom. It took a lot to distract a djinn from the dread of being bound to his family's enemy, one who'd just admitted to being a long-lost family member. What did she mean she was a dragonhunter hunter? He didn't know there was such a thing. He frowned. It sounded like she was putting him on notice, but why?

  The only two dragons he was aware of were his sister Tempe's mate, Destiny's Sheriff Jack Lang, and Conor, the black dragon who some called the Dark Knight because of his Jedi Ninja look and the big flashy swords he wielded. River rubbed his chin contemplating the similarities between Conor and the redhead.

  His glass slammed down on the counter. The dragonhunter she wanted and Styx were one and the same! Efrit, this was a highly charged mess. Dutch had called the hooded man a dragonhunter right here months ago the day the wind fae confronted Tempe.

  Remembering Tempe's clash with the Lord of the Wind, he nearly smiled. He'd warned that blowhard not to mess with his sister. While they faced off, he'd seen the gray-cloaked figure watching from the other side of the room; felt a tug on an invisible chain, the twisting in his gut, and he'd known the deal Tempe struck with that shyster, Elvis, had come due.

  But Tempe wasn't to blame. After she'd discovered his damaged amphora in that clubhouse locker, she'd known a replacement would be needed for his source, pronto. Without the help of his parents or the local authorities she'd risked everything to find him. Finally, she made a deal with Elvis on the family's behalf for a new djinni bottle, when no one else would even acknowledge he was missing or in trouble.

  Of course, if she hadn't picked Elvis' ritziest model, there would have been no need for a deal. And he wouldn't be in his current situation.

  River didn't require fancy digs like some djinnis. Even after he'd opened his contracting business he'd lived in a small upstairs bedroom of their antebellum home. He did indeed owe her his life, but this might be one of the most devastating choices she'd ever made for their family, and their world. The pain in his gut intensified with his next realization. If a solution didn't present itself soon, it would be River who destroyed everyone he held dear.

  He scrubbed his face with his hands. The fae hunter was trouble. And… he tried not to think about the surge of heat that slammed into him when he looked into her lavender irises, or when she'd touched him. It was the first time he'd felt alive in months.

  But she'd just thrown a huge wrench in the works. It was obvious the lady was dangerous, but she didn't know who she was locking horns with. Or did she? River decided to keep track her whereabouts before she made things worse.

  Chapter 3

  You just had to ask, didn't ya, Tempe?

  To most people the sight of a giant black Newfoundland sitting squarely in the middle-of-the-road where Tempe entered the Enchanted Glen subdivision would've been puzzling, even concerning, especially if one looked at his mournful expression. But Tempest Pomeroy, mail carrier and weather 'witch', took one glance at the mischievous expression in the Newfie's eyes and recognized him immediately—Marty, the Pomeroy family imp slash side-kick slash troublemaker.

  Tempe pulled the Chevy to a stop as he sauntered slowly toward her truck, to the casual observer, a lazy overweight yard dog. Marty had the doggie impersonations down pat, having masqueraded as a feisty Pomeranian and assorted Dachshunds in recent months.

  "What's with the Newfoundland get up?" she asked. "You realize you're too big for me to let you ride inside, and I'm not allowed to carry animals in the back on the route." Especially not now when her supervisor hinted earlier that carriers might find themselves observed in the near future.

  He stared at her, the massive head angled thoughtfully. What? The doofus could speak to her with his mind or his mouth, but he didn't. What was he up to? Marty almost never appeared to her in public unless there was some kind of family trouble brewing. He usually just associated with the males in her family, probably because they could handle him. He sat down next to the door, his eyes level with the window of her truck. Sad eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I am totally immune. Speak to me."

  The big head drooped low over his fluffy black chest, creating a purposeful image—two hundred pounds of pure pitifulness. Tempe blew out a breath. Count on the imp to get his way. "Okay, fine, you can ride until we get to the end of the block, but then you get back in your wrinkled imp skin and talk to me."

  His ears perked up and with a slobbery grin he glided up and into the truck bed. Hmm, pretty athletic, the fraud. She heard the shuffle of packages as he settled in and then a deep bark. Wooof! Let's go. Just like a real mutt.

  As she prepared to roll forward, she heard a more alert Woof! Woof! A different inflection. "What?"

  As usual Marty lost his train of thought as a perky little Shiatsu with painted pink nails and a rhinestone studded pink collar pranced over to the truck and grinned up at him. Then the pink ribbon on top of her head shook. Yap! Yap, yap! She reared up on the tire, her tail wagging frantically.

  Marty leaned so far out of the truck that he lost his footing and landed with a thud on the sidewalk. The little princess eased up to him cautiously, her tiny tongue whipping out to kiss his large nose. Then she turned, wiggled her butt at him and ran, the leash skipping down the sidewalk behind her along with her owner.

  Marty scrambled his ungainly bulk into gear and took off aft
er her like a lumbering bear, his deep barks sounding more like gasps. He would obviously run out of steam before he could hook up with his new girlfriend, but Tempe couldn't wait around. She had an appointment to keep. No doubt the imp would turn up later.

  Rolling slowing by Inez Jackson's little shotgun house on her way to Jane Fortune's, she glanced over at the small porch where they'd become friends. The recently married octogenarians, Inez and Phineas Jackson, had received new rejuvenated lives on Fierce Winds Isle as caretakers of the beach. Tempe missed Inez. The new resident had replaced the ordinary black mailbox with a decorative one complete with a realistic trio of cats on one side and a striped tabby tail flag.

  Movement on the porch caught Tempe's attention. She blinked... and started counting. There were at least five cats lounging on the front porch. No, another one peeked out from under the wicker sofa as she drove toward the next house, and in her side mirror, she saw three more felines winding their way from the backyard. She groaned, imagining lots of treats, supplies and cat meds in her future.

  Minutes later, she braked quietly in front of Jane Fortune's purple mailbox, hoping to drop off her package and move on. Retrieving it from behind her seat, she pointed her scanner at the bar code and depressed the button. Nothing.

  "Zeus' blue ball…oney! Why now?" She banged the scanner against a wad of mail and tried again. Not a beep. She'd taken the device from the charger at the postal center before leaving, so that couldn't be the problem. And she'd used it several times for earlier deliveries. She sighed. Karma? Murphy's Law? The perverse universe knowing she didn't want to linger in front of Jane's residence?

  But as her luck would have it, today anyway, she spotted Destiny's only psychic columnist—psycho gossip was more like it—all four-foot-ten and three hundred pounds of luscious jiggling lime green taffeta marching toward her. Jane pointed her stubby index finger at Tempe. "Hold on there, Tempest Pomeroy. I want a word with you."

  Tempe groaned and shoved the gear into park with her left hand. As usual her Tempestaerie nerve endings responded to Jane like snarled bumper car traffic. The pressure accumulated in her temples as she held back what would be her first storm hissy in a month. Too long, menori whispered. Like an ignition switch to her storm nature, what Tempestaeries called the breath of life, menori was Tempe's inner source. And right now, she was twitching her tail, set on go.

  Tempe wondered if the scanner malfunction had anything to do with her erratic emotions. If she could see her own aura it would probably look like a swirling red and black mass. But why now? Life had been so good for her and Jack in the last few months, it was actually hard to believe how traumatic things had been less than a year ago.

  She'd held off her quickening Tempestaerie powers until she was twenty-nine, then last February everything changed. Men suddenly started acting strangely, her minor talents with electricity became unmanageable, and her emotions unpredictable. Not good when your nature involved storm elements.

  She'd ignored it all but then she discovered the dead body of a variant at the Enchanted Glen Clubhouse, and found her brother's genie bottle in a locker. She'd realized instantly that River was in trouble. The Sheriff had walked in on her as she laid into the locker with a club from the pro shop.

  Needless to say, Jack didn't believe her story about being able to smell its location, nor about River's sudden disappearance, and he'd placed her in temporary custody in his police unit. Luckily for Tempe, door locks were no hindrance and she'd gone on about the business of delivering the mail and looking for her brother while Jack issued an APB on her.

  And that had been just the first few hours of their relationship. Everything went to hell after that, in a freaky, dangerous kinda way, but they'd come through it, and here they were, a real couple, living a normal life in her antebellum home with Jack's teenage daughter, Jordie.

  Now, with her hormones skittering around like unruly molecules, the last thing Tempe needed was this nosy mystic wannabe causing trouble. "What's in this package anyway?" Tempe asked, hoping to distract her from whatever had her in such a tizzy. She read the return address, "ISPT? What's that stand for?"

  It worked; Jane brightened and reached for the brown wrapped box. Trying out a solution to her problem, Tempe handed her the scanner and said, "Here, scan that for me will ya?"

  Jane took the scanner, aimed it at the numbers, looking at Tempe for direction. "Just press the blue button when the orange light lines up on the barcode." Sure enough, the machine beeped and Jane handed the device back.

  "It's from the Institute for Sensual Para-palepathy." Her smug announcement was followed by a frown when Tempe didn't give the desired response.

  Her mind was spinning through the possibilities, obviously training of some sort. Sensual— sex, and that in itself in Jane's hands was scary. She and Dickhead, the flower man, had become a thing during the Chaos last spring. If they'd been on a dating site, their profiles would have been listed as complete opposites. Dick was a giant bad tempered troublemaker.

  And what in Zeus' name was Parap— "What did you call it?"

  Jane propped her fist on one generous hip. "Well! I knew you wouldn't recognize the science." In a snooty condescending voice she recited, "Sensual Para-palepathy is the telepeutic use of palepathy to achieve sexual gratification."

  You just had to ask, didn't ya, Temp? As usual, Jane needed a dictionary. "Um, would that be like… mind sex?"

  Her expression was smug. "There aren't a lot of experts in the field."

  "I don't doubt that," Tempe agreed.

  Jane perked up, grinning conspiratorially, "Dick suggested I get a Participants degree since I have a particularly adept sexual…"

  A participants degree? Tempe wasn't touching that one. "Erm, I'm good on the details, Jane. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Here they were again.

  Once again, her hands parked defiantly on her ample hips as she squinted at Tempe. Her words came out in a staccato. "I'm sure… you think… you can have any… Man. You. Want."

  Huh?

  "But you can't have Dick." Her eyes flashed.

  Tempe couldn't believe her ears. It was all she could do to keep from laughing, but Jane wasn't laughing. On the contrary, she seemed to be gathering steam. "I mean it, Tempe. You stay away from Dick." She punctuated that with an index finger in Tempe's face.

  Where was this coming from? Jane's house was about a mile away from her boyfriend's place of business, Flowers by Dick. Clever name, right?

  As Dick liked to say, he and Tempe had a history, not a pleasant one, and not that kind of history. He'd tried to get her in trouble with the postmaster, the mayor and even Jack, when he was unenlightened about Destiny's true nature.

  This line of questioning was strange even coming from Jane. If she and Dick were really in love, why would Jane think Tempe was interested in the big slob? "Jane, I know Dick is a real catch..." Was she good or what? "But he's got you. He doesn't even give me the time of day. I believe he's a one-man woman." Sheesh, Tempe quit already.

  Jane must have wanted to believe that really badly because she relaxed, even though she continued to study Tempe. Finally, she said, "So I can trust you? Completely?"

  Tempe nodded. "Absolutely, Jane. I have a hunky sheriff at home in case you haven't heard."

  "True." She shrugged. "All right, but—"

  "I got it." Tempe gave a casual salute. "Touch Dick and I'm a dead woman."

  Straightening to her nearly five feet, Jane nodded and turned, but at the last minute she spun back around and leaned in close. "Tempest, you know what the significance of Samhain is, don't you?" She pronounced it Sow wen.

  Tempe knew about Samhain but why was Jane bringing it up? She probably wanted to impress Tempe with her grasp of ritual.

  "It's the Oidhche Shamhna…" Wow, she must have Googled that. Even Tempe had never heard that term. Jane's next words brought Tempe up short however.

  "We might see the return of a few special beings like w
e did last spring."

  Zeus' holey boxers! That had slipped her mind and she didn't look forward to telling Jack.

  Jane rattled on, "Remember those weird flying creatures?" Jane looked at Tempe, conspiratorially. "And you haven't hidden him very well, but I know there's a dragon around here."

  "A dragon!" Tempe gulped. Did Jane know about Jack? Oh, she realized Jane must mean Conor. He and another dragon had had no choice but to be seen in public during the big fight. Tempe assumed Jane was still in the dark but then, she'd also assumed her psychic powers were hooey. Jane was always so mystically tacky and over the top, but she was dead on about the festival, which was just two nights away.

  "Uh, I don't know anything about any dragons, Jane, but as far as the festival is concerned, we know there are going to be the usual remembrance ceremonies and blessings of the harvest."

  Jane lowered her chin and put her hand on Tempe's arm, staring at her until she felt like squirming. "This weekend's full moon is special. It's a Blood Moon, which is the second full moon in the month – therefore it's also a Blue Moon. And…" she clucked her tongue. "Tempest Pomeroy, you must keep your head buried in the dirt."

  Tempe blinked. "What do you mean? I knew there was a full moon this weekend." Not.

  Jane's black brow took a hike and her pursed lips told me she didn't believe me. "It's also an eclipse." My surprise wasn't lost on her either. "There hasn't been something like this for two centuries!!" She leaned forward and winked. "Imagine what might happen. We mustn't ignore the possibilities." And with that, she stuck her box under one arm and flounced back to her house.

  Tempe thought about that encounter while she dug around for her north side Xpress muttering under her breath. "So far this is looking like one of those days I'll want to forget."