Vengeance Moon

by Lee Roland

  Spot made a little chirp, which I accepted as assent.

  While they ate, I washed up and changed clothes. Not a shower, but I felt better. Then I cleaned the gun. A tap came at the door.

  “Madeline?” Michael called from the other side.

  I opened the door and let him in.

  He drew a deep breath. His eyes narrowed. “You smell like blood.”

  He smelled it? Even after I’d washed it away? I should have showered.

  Michael seized my arms. “Are you hurt?”

  I jerked away. “Don’t handle me like that.”

  He winced and let me go. “What happened?” His eyes roved the room until they landed on Spot and Grace sitting on the dresser.

  “Those are my friends. Stay away from them.”

  He stared at them, then back at me, and nodded. If he’d lived in the Barrows his entire life, I was sure he’d seen many strange things.

  I stepped back to keep a little distance between us. “To answer your question, no, it’s not my blood. I was walking down River Street with the drawing of the guy I’ve been looking for and I ran into Étienne and he—”

  “Étienne!” He tried to grab me again. I jumped away.

  “Do you want to hear this or not?” I gave him a stiff arm, trying to keep him from closing in. He gave a slight nod. Those beautiful eyes focused on me so hard I could almost feel their weight. “I met Étienne. We walked together. And talked.”

  “About what?”

  I threw up my hands. “The weather and traffic and world politics. What else?” He sounded jealous and I hated it. “Michael, stop it or leave.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “I just worry about you. Tell me. Please.” He appeared more frantic than worried. He wasn’t used to asking for things nicely. I really didn’t want to tell him about my doubts about the attack. I wasn’t sure the attackers were actually Bastinados. And I still didn’t know if the attack was directed at me or Étienne.

  A thought occurred to me. “Yesterday afternoon I rode the bus to the Den. There was this Bastinado. He tried to hurt a little kid and I threw him off the bus. I wonder if he got a bunch of his best buddies together to come looking for me.”

  Michael remained silent.

  I looked at him hard, scrutinizing his face. “Étienne is a good man to have at your back, Michael.”

  “I could stand at your back.”

  “You weren’t there. You can’t always be there.” I thought about Étienne stepping in front of me and the bullet that grazed his arm. “But unlike you, Étienne is not bulletproof. It’s his blood.”

  He drew a sharp breath. “Is he . . . ?”

  “He’ll be okay. It skimmed his arm.”

  “I’ll thank him.” He sounded grim—and bitter.

  “Why? He didn’t do it for you.” I was frustrated and backed up a pace. I needed more space.

  It didn’t go unnoticed. “What are you thinking?” he asked. He stared into my eyes with grave intensity.

  “Okay, we need to talk. Sit over there. Away from me. You mess with my mind when you get too close.”

  “I do?” He gave a wry grin and sat in the one chair in my room. It squeaked and protested a bit. Not a small man, Michael.

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.” I sat on the bed. “There’s something between us. I don’t know about Big Daddy’s pronouncement of a binding, but the first time I saw you, I felt it. You did, too. You were helping Cassandra into the Jag out front.”

  “I remember.” He didn’t sound surprised. “If it hadn’t been for her, I’d have gone to you. I couldn’t see you, didn’t know who watched. All I knew was that I had to find you. I went back later, but you were gone.”

  “I’d have run like hell, Michael. If you came toward me at that moment . . . I wasn’t prepared to meet you that morning. I wasn’t prepared to meet you when I did.”

  He leaned back, seemingly relaxed. A facade, I’d bet.

  “Madeline, I don’t have words to tell you what you are to me. But today, you accepted me. You accepted what I become when I get angry or overexcited. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “Why? I am not beautiful. My soul is stained with a curse placed upon me by my own mother.”

  “My mother damned me too,” he said quietly. “I cannot be human, but I cannot be what he is either.”

  “So we’re two damned souls who have to get together because no one wants me and everyone wants you?”

  “Maybe we’re two souls that were created to be together.” He started to rise, but relaxed when I held up my hand.

  He clenched his hand into a fist and pounded it softly on the chair arm. “Cass and Abby say that the Earth Mother doesn’t interfere with ordinary people. Only her chosen. Our mothers were her witches. It appears that our lives are hers to meddle with as she pleases. My mother defied her. Left her for my father.”

  “And my mother defied her by placing a death curse on me.”

  I rubbed my hand over my scar.

  “Stop that. Your scar is as much a part of you as your courage.”

  I lowered my hand. “If I can accept you, will you stop claiming me like a child with his favorite toy?”

  “Once I know you’re mine . . .”

  “Michael, I’ve been yours since the first time I saw you.”

  He drew a breath to speak, but didn’t. Finally, he leaned back and relaxed. His hands unclenched and he spread his fingers on the chair arms.

  “Is that enough for you?” I asked.

  “Yes. Now, let me tell you the story of the dark moon conjunction two years ago. It’s a story of Cassandra, the Earth Mother, and how Aiakós arrived in this world.”

  And spin a tale he did. Of a web spun by the Earth Mother designed to lessen Aiakós’s power in the Barrows by dragging him against his will into this world, where she believed she could control him. But was she controlling him? It was the people in the Barrows who bore the brunt of a demon in their midst.

  “My mother cut her throat across an altar of concrete blocks, there in the plaza, the center of that giant pentagram created by the streets of the Barrows. As she bled out, he arrived from . . . somewhere. Another world, I guess. I watched. I could do nothing. We were all the Earth Mother’s pawns. She called us her warriors, but Cassandra lost a dear friend; I lost my mother and brother. Flynn got his sister back safely, though—and he got Cassandra.”

  “The Earth Mother.” The damnable female had caused incredible suffering with her games. I rubbed my eyes. Would the holy bitch never be done with me?

  But I did realize one thing. According to Abigail, if someone wanted to use the Portal, the solstice and the dark moon would certainly be the perfect time. Two days. I had two days to find it—and one of those was almost gone.

  He stood and I let him come closer. He sat beside me. “Come with me. Back to the Archangel. I have an apartment upstairs, wine, food.”

  It was tempting, but I had more work to do to locate the Portal. The summer solstice was drawing near. I had to keep up the search. “I can’t. There’s still so much to do.”

  Michael kissed me gently on the mouth. “When you’re ready, Madeline. I won’t push you.” He opened the door, reached into his pocket, then tossed something my way. “Here’s your cell phone. It won’t work if you go into the ruins, but it will be fine on River Street.”

  I watched at the window until he drove away. I felt the pull to be with him but pushed it down. I had work to do.

  At sunset, I went out and caught a bus. I wasn’t going anywhere in particular, but the ride would clear my head. The driver wasn’t my new friend Jim, but a rather dour woman who kept her eyes straight ahead. The bus was headed south and I knew it would make a turn at the cul-de-sac at the Goblin Den. I simply rode and tried to think.

  Michael wanted me, but he was distracting me from my mission. I would do well to remember the threat of prison if I failed. Étienne and Oonagh thought they were hiding in the Barrows, and maybe they
were. Maybe no one wanted them enough to dig them out. If Oonagh had offended enough, the Mother would sic the Sisters on her. Would they do the same to me? Now, there was an interesting thought. Would Eunice or Lillian drag me to prison if ordered to do so? My thoughts bounced from one place to another. I had to stop thinking.

  It was a good thing I did, because after the bus made the turn at the cul-de-sac and started its northward run, I spotted him. The third murderer. Kenny Hascomb. The man who had strangled my mother. For years I’d fought a vicious need to kill this man. For years, I’d beaten it down, like a raging fire burned down to an ember. Now, it sparked to life and burst free.

  He leaned against a boarded-up store-front building, shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets. He stared at the sidewalk. A couple of prostitutes walked by, stepping wide around him as if he were something filthy. Filthy, he was, and I planned to toss him in a Dumpster after he told me the Portal’s location. I’d show him what my mother’s life meant to me.

  Chapter 25

  I forced myself to be calm, but I immediately rose and headed for the front of the bus. The driver wouldn’t let me off except at the marked stops, but one was just ahead. I could still see him, a block and a half away, when I stepped down from the bus. I walked slowly, searching all the possibilities.

  Excitement rose in me. Could closure be coming so quickly?

  A few people wandered down the sidewalk, a drunk weaving back and forth, a prostitute at the corner. The drunk was headed back toward the bars. The prostitute wasn’t going anywhere. She stared at the few passing cars without any hope. Neither would be a problem. The cars? Some Good Samaritan might stop if I had to take him down in public.

  I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets and copied his posture as I walked toward him. Shoulders hunched, face down. Slow, I had to go slow, not spook him—though I didn’t know where he would run.

  Closer. I had to let him know why he was going to die. He remained stationary. Michael and others had described him as rather pathetic. But the last face my mother saw was not pathetic. It was hateful, twisted in cruelty. This was the face I needed to keep in mind as I did this final deed for my parents. I would not let him live.

  I was within twenty feet of him when he raised his head. He saw me. Recognition came alive in his eyes. He’d either seen me on the news as the killer of his two partners, or seen me as I asked about him along River Street. My face wasn’t one to forget. He whirled and ran.

  I raced after him.

  Running downhill, back toward the Den and the cul-de-sac, he howled in terror. I shortened his lead on me. I could hear him now, huffing and puffing, his soles slapping the concrete in shoes far too large for his feet.

  Closer, ten feet. I almost had him. He ran in terror, but I ran easily, alert, alive and . . . damn!

  He staggered, almost fell as he turned left, into an alley. I was right behind him. I slowed down. Some light from a streetlamp penetrated here, but not much. I’d lost sight of him, but all I had to do was wait for him to fall. Then I’d be on him.

  It occurred to me that I was close to the Den, close to the place where the Drow had leaped from the roof. I stopped. He had to be breathing hard. I’d hear if he were hiding, if only I could shut out the noise around me. The hiss of cars behind me filled the air.

  I glanced back toward the street, toward the light. I should go, I thought. Surely a Drow would find him. But if I didn’t kill him, the curse would never be broken—and I’d never find the Portal. A familiar scratching sound. I glanced up. Drows, two of them, like the one that attacked Michael, crouched twelve feet above me on the roof of a single-story building. Silhouetted against the ambient light of the night sky. They’d be on me before I could reach the light of the street behind me. I swallowed, remembering the pain, the incredible pain. These two would probably tear me apart. This time, though, I was prepared. I drew my gun and slowly started backing toward the light. When the Drow attacked Michael, it had unfurled its wings before it leaped. These remained still, simply staring at me.

  Footsteps approached from my right. Odd, shuffling footsteps, so I didn’t think it was my man. I suspected he was gone or so well hidden I’d never find him in the dark. A great scaled Drow stepped out of the total darkness. His posture wasn’t threatening. I didn’t know if it was the one I’d fed or not. The minimal light gave a slight sheen to his scales and his wide eyes had a bit of a glint to them.

  “Hey, big guy.” I spoke softly.

  He grunted, held out an enormous clawed hand, and beckoned me to come closer.

  He wasn’t a carnivore—I could tell because I was still alive—and didn’t seem to be fearful of what hung over us on the roof. He lay that fearsome hand on my shoulder, drew me closer. He tugged gently, leading me deeper into the ruins. I planted my feet and he stopped. He released me. No force. He would take me somewhere or let me go. I glanced up. The Drows on the roof were gone.

  Decision time. Did I follow? Or run away? I had entered this world and I had a mission. Yet I couldn’t afford to run blindly, and alone, through unknown parts. Having lost my man to the darkness, I would go where circumstances led me. I holstered the gun and laid my hand on his arm.

  The scales felt smooth, hard, and slightly warm under my fingers. I allowed him to lead me. In a few minutes the darkness became complete and I was hopelessly lost. Clinging to him was my only hope.

  As if recognizing that he could see and I could not, he stopped often to lead me around some invisible obstacle. Progress slowed. Finally, he slipped a massive arm around my shoulders and the other under my knees and lifted me with ease. A little scary, but much faster.

  He carried me for a while, then set me gently on my feet and again led me by my arm. He opened a door. Inside, another door, then another. Light, dim light, filled a large, high-ceilinged room.

  A room filled with Drows.

  Chapter 26

  The scaled ones, like my guide, sat on the floor; winged ones perched on exposed beams above me. Several little dragons were there, though I didn’t see Spot.

  I stared around me. If they attacked, I’d be dead . . . but they didn’t move. A wise person would’ve been terrified. I had no claims to wisdom, but I did believe in intuition, and intuition told me there was no immediate danger.

  “Good evening,” a deep voice said from across the room. Aiakós walked into the light.

  Or so I thought. But after examining him for a moment, I noticed subtle differences. He was almost as big as Aiakós. Hard to tell in the light, but his hair seemed a little less red and he had some, but not all, of the majestic presence of Michael’s father. He wore a cinnamon-colored, oddly draped robe that covered him from shoulder to ankle. Strangely enough, I did not feel threatened by him as I had by Aiakós.

  “My name is Kyros.” Aiakós’s look-alike came closer. “Please, sit down for a moment.” He gestured to an industrial-looking table with mismatched chairs. They must have scoured the ruins to find them. His voice was deep and soft, but lacked Aiakós’s beguiling honey-and-cream texture.

  I went to the table and sat. Kyros’s chair protested as he carefully lowered himself.

  “You are not afraid?” he asked.

  I glanced at the winged things in the rafters. “Not yet.”

  “Nothing in this room will harm you.” He laid his hands, palms down, on the table. He had claws, too, but somehow they looked smaller and less lethal than Aiakós’s.

  I nodded, but remained cautious. “So, who are you? Why are you here?”

  “I am what you would call a wizard or a warlock, though among my people I am a priest. These are the Beheras.” He pointed at the scaled giants. “These are the Custos.” He smiled at the winged and fanged creatures above us. “The little ones are Tektos. Nine of your moon cycles ago, we were together for a celebration in our realm in a place we call an Apex of power. An Apex is difficult to describe, but simply put, it is a place where the walls between worlds are thin.”

  I remember
ed what I’d been told by the Sisters. “I’ve heard that there are places like that.”

  “The Apex is a doorway. Difficult to master, but it can be done. At the height of our celebration, there was an inexplicable shift in place and time, and we found ourselves here, far from home. We have no way of returning.”

  “That’s terrifying.”

  “Yes. We survive. Barely. We hide in these ruins.”

  “You speak good English. Little bit of a British accent.”

  He laughed softly. “I’ve been here before. There was a time, long ago, when we and others from this world communicated. Not here, but in another place. I don’t know where it is in relation to where we are now.”

  “Do you know what happened? What brought you here?”

  He leaned forward, arms on the table. “I believe I do. Someone in this world has acquired and is using a powerful talisman that facilitates travel between worlds. Using such without the proper skill and knowledge can create great destruction. If the worlds get too close, they could destroy each other.”

  I sighed. I knew what it was. How completely idiotically obvious. The Portal. And someone without the power or skill currently wielded it.

  “Will you tell me why you are here?” he asked.

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  He nodded, but I could not read the expression on his face. I’d need to be careful how much information to share.

  “I followed the man tonight, down the sidewalk. He ran down the alley where I met . . .” I glanced at the larger creatures. One stepped forward, but they all looked alike to me.

  “Termas. You found food for him and his young a few days ago. They are most likely indistinguishable to you.”

  I smiled. “Termas, it’s good to meet you.”

  Termas nodded. His mouth widened in what I thought might be a smile.

  “I’ve met Aiakós,” I said. “What is he to you?”

  “I am his youngest brother. Aiakós is an exile, a rogue and an outlaw. In our realm, we live in a peaceful matriarchal society. We are sons of the queen, and as the eldest, Aiakós was destined to be a great leader himself. But he did not want to lead alongside a queen—he wanted complete dominion. He thought his mother too benevolent. The queen chose a younger son to be her heir. Aiakós killed our brother. Then he ran away. He is an . . . aberration.”