“And why not you? Here I am. Weak, unable to resist.”
“I am enough and want to be none other than myself,” he said. “I’ve fought at the side of great riders. I have only respect for the bloodline.”
“I want to sleep and wake up a nobody,” I said. “What a joy it was to be a nobody, just to wait patiently in the Starbucks drive-thru. Citizen nobody.”
“Mist Riders do not hide, Sophie. When they accept their calling, they are majestic and as powerful as any magic creature, but some are susceptible to extreme mood swings and try to refute their nature. Once fully mature, they can even decide to drain their own essence and become mortal.”
“Something sweet and dark, a Caffè Verona.”
“Why Starbucks?” he said. “What about your shop, have you not sworn an oath to them?”
I laughed. “You’re dumb.”
He laughed. “That was a joke, so, in fact, it’s you who are dumb.”
“You’re so old,” I said. I was getting tired.
“And wise,” he said. “You need rest. Your incoherence is very distinct. Tomorrow we will speak more on your chance to restore the magnificence of the Mist Riders. It’s a choice only you can make.”
I lay down, becoming drowsy. “I’m a lunar witch, dumb-dumb,” I said. “I draw strength from the moon, from the elements, from the sea. I’m a LUNAR, baby, so why don’t you kill me? All us little witchlings sang that, back in school.”
“Not all little witchlings are created equal,” Winter said. “One could have been anything she wanted. You were cast as a witch, but you could have been anything, a telepath, a clairvoyant, a demon, an Immortal, even a basic. Your choices were endless. They still are.”
“My parents were regular magic,” I whispered, falling asleep.
“Yes, probably,” he said. “Mist Riders are unique, even to their families.”
“They are legends, not real,” I said, peeking up at him. “Like dragons.”
“There is much that defies logic in the worlds above and below.”
A steel grip grasped my right wrist, pulling me hard. The short tip of a dagger sliced through my left side, right under my ribcage.
I stared at Winter in disbelief as both of my hands found the knife stuck in my side. I pulled it out. Blood spilled onto the couch.
“You think that I healed you,” he said. “The truth is I couldn’t. Those I cared about have died in my hands. I was helpless. You’re not helpless.”
Through my bloodied fingers, through the hole in the shirt that Winter lent to me, the wound fused back together quicker than you could zip a coat.
“Nobody can kill you, Sophie. Only you can kill you.”
“If that’s the case, then why am I here listening to you?”
He grinned. “It’s finally dawning on you.”
As a girl, I had read the stories about white horses turning into mist, infusing their riders with potent magic and the gift of invisibility. The horses were the true source of a rider’s infinite potential.
“Without a mist horse, I’d only scratch the surface of my potential,” I said, “but the legend says the last of them disappeared centuries ago.”
Winter rubbed my shoulders, then let his hands run down my arms. “Stay alive long enough, Luna, and a horse will find you—it’s part of your destiny. Until then, I can train you. I’ll teach you everything I know.”
“Oh, goody,” I said. “Sounds positively nightmarish.”
CHAPTER 23
____________________________________
Sitting at home and keeping my mind off last night would have been impossible, so I went to work. I hoped the familiar faces of my coworkers and the regulars would help. Instead, I ended up wondering if any of the faces were shifters in disguise.
The violent memories flashed back in waves. I had a hard time sustaining small talk with anyone. Between customers, I stared off into space, struggling to come to terms with what I had learned about myself.
When I saw Emmet pacing outside the coffee shop, I wasn’t surprised. Shapeshifters were master scouts. Of course, he was pacing outside my shop.
I hid behind the counter all the same, cloaking myself with an etheric shield. I hadn’t decided how to feel about Emmet, and I wasn’t ready to decide.
Big Rob crouched down next to me. “What are we doing?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Stretching my hip. Doctor’s order.”
He looked down and then back into my eyes. “Is that your doctor walking back-and-forth outside?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “He is a doctor, but my hip’s fine. I’m hiding.”
“Sophie, I guessed your hip was fine,” Rob said. “I can ask him to leave.”
“No, just shush,” I said. “If he asks, I’m not here.”
“He knows you’re here,” Rob said. “He’s been there a while.”
The counter bell rang. Rob stood.
“Sophie, will you please hear me out?” Emmet said.
Rob looked down at me. “I think you should hear him out.”
Shit, cloaking doesn’t work if they see you first.
I stood, stared straight into Emmet’s apologetic face, then gave Rob an accusing look as he walked away.
“Give me a chance to explain,” Emmet said.
“Turn around, Emmet. I’m not interested.”
“Let me say my piece and then I’ll go. I promise.”
“Oh, a man’s promise,” I said, “that’s so valuable.”
“I get your anger, but I owe you an explanation.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want your explanation.”
“I didn’t mean to mislead you…”
“Oh my god, dude, can’t you hear? I’m not interested. Shoo.”
He crossed his arms on his chest and stood his ground.
Very well, Emmet, have it your way.
I stomped my right foot and leaned against the counter. “Out with you.”
Emmet stumbled, fighting against my spell that enveloped him, pushing against him with an invisible force. He grabbed the counter with both hands.
I increased the pressure a notch, making sure I didn’t go overboard. I didn’t want to trigger the wolf in Emmet, nor did I want the customers to witness a wolf flying out the door.
Emmet fought to keep his grip on the counter, barely hanging on. The spell forced him to let go and he stumbled backward, unnaturally. I hoped no one would get in his path.
There was fire and determination in his eyes, but we both knew who won this round. Before crashing back against the door, he turned quickly, opened the door and walked out.
“That was a little rough,” Rob said from behind, startling me.
I turned to face him. “Don’t even start with me, Big Rob.”
Rob raised his arms in surrender. Of course, he defended Emmet. The good doctor had an easy smile and a naturally chill demeanor. People were drawn to him, his likability was through the roof and he was completely unthreatening—until the fangs came out, and by then it was too late.
His schoolgirl crushes had probably written poems about him, the nurses at the hospital for sure swooned over the young intern and his infectious smile—yes, doctor, how can I be of help, doctor, I feel something strange in my chest, doctor, could you examine every little inch?
By the end of my shift, I could hardly stand still. I wasn’t about to underestimate a wolf’s persistence, so I snuck out the back door.
I’d forgotten he knew I liked sneaking out the back. There he was in front of the tobacco shop across the street, leaning against a pole. He seemed so basic drinking an energy drink and eating a beef jerky stick.
Such a lazy predator. Shifters these days.
I hesitated. I couldn’t outrun him, but I could do worse. He cleared the distance between us with a few loping strides.
“Not wise using your magic in public,” he said, happily. “But I’m not going to lie, it was incredibly sexy.”
“My god,
Emmet,” I said, trying not to blush. “We’re not at that place right now and my magic is my business.”
“Okay, fair, but I did note you said right now, which is awesome.”
“You frustrating man,” I said. “It was not meant to encourage you.”
“Not at all, I get it. Same page.”
He was most definitely not on the same page.
“You have two minutes, but only if you promise not to stalk me at my work ever again.”
“Right. So, in a nutshell. You’ve decided I’m a liar, but you’re wrong about that, Sophie, all due respect. I just liked you because you’re hot, I mean you’re hot because you’re cool and your eyes have wisdom and I just like looking at your face and talking to you and this two minute thing, it’s a lot of pressure and now I’m sounding undatable, but I hope you get the underlying message that I just like you, a great amount.”
Asshole. It was hard as hell not to smile and laugh right now.
“I get your act, Groshek. You do this pathetic, unrehearsed stream of consciousness thing to seem unpolished. But, no, you’re hardly unpolished. You’re clever and smooth and I’m sure the ladies line up for you.”
“There’s no line, Sophie. Just you.”
The two-minute egg timer better be buzzing.
“The wolf shifter thing, what is that, an after-sex piece of information, or a before meeting your parents thing, or a never thing?”
He didn’t answer. He conveyed a sadness so deep I felt it in my gut. I knew he had lost people, we both had. And now we had lost each other.
“Telling that to someone is a burden for them,” he said. “Do you go around telling people what you are? Or do you know about hiding that side of you? About trying to be basic with everything that’s in you?”
Only last week, I had felt I could eventually open up to him, but he was right. I had never done that with anyone before. And I very much doubted I would be telling anyone about my recent killing spree or my immortality.
“Listen, Emmet—”
“Since when exactly do lunar witches hang out with Immortals?”
What did he just say? Winter was right. Emmet knew everything.
“I rolls with who I rolls,” I told him.
His face went red. “I bet Grandpa’s an experienced lover.”
Oh, the nerve.
“Yes, Emmet, that’s exactly right. In fact, after I kicked you out of my place, I jumped his immortal bones. He’s a little rough, but he makes up for it.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he fucked up. I saw that spark again, the unmistakable golden glint deep inside the wolf’s eyes, a sign of hunger or curiosity. His stance betrayed agitation, as if he had just been delivered a deadly blow and couldn’t recover.
“I deserved that. My temper sometimes,” Emmet said. “I am territorial by nature and I hate that about me.”
“It’s not a good time, Emmet. In about a hundred ways.”
“Will he come for me?” he said, feigning fear. “Should I hide?”
“You can’t hide from him, but he won’t come for you, because I am not his and even if I was, killing my ex boyfriends is a deal breaker.”
Emmet nodded and for once searched for the right words. “I wish I could go back and do things different. For the record, everything I did tell you about my life, my work, it’s all true.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” I said, completely losing interest.
All I wanted was to go home, get in my jammies and binge my favorite season of Charmed, and eat copious amounts of ice cream. I loved inaccurate basic speculation about magic. It relaxed me for some reason. And now that I had discovered I could eat as much ice cream as I wanted and still live forever, it’s on, baby. Oh, yeah.
Emmet rubbed his neck. “Don’t let him pull you in, Sophie.”
Was that a low growl I heard in his voice?
“I’ll do what I want, Emmet.”
He glanced at the road. Muscles flexed in his neck. Had he heard a sound only a wolf could hear?
“I’m watching out for you,” he said, distracted.
He passed his hand over his hair. His eyes blazed. He leaned in, his lips barely an inch from my ear. My brain short circuited. He was too close.
“You’re in over your head, Sophie. Don’t get caught in the middle.”
He sniffed the air, spun and raced off into the night. His feet barely touched the ground as he became a distant blur.
Emmet knew. That sexy sonofabitch knew.
And even as I wanted to strangle him with my own hands, I hoped he would survive whatever was to come.
CHAPTER 24
____________________________________
Faion had taken one look at me and determined I needed a break. That’s how we ended up at the very crowded AMC Mission Valley multiplex on a Saturday night, watching Colette, even though Faion had already seen the movie twice.
Two hours later, we crossed the street to the bus stop. Faion kept going on and on about Colette being fierce and we got to struggle to find our voices and everybody needs to define themselves and fuck gender roles, but my attention kept drifting away.
In three nights, the Moon’s metamorphic phase would reach its peak and I’d have to stop the morphs from shifting into bloodthirsty monsters. Having witnessed what morphs would do to small children, I had little choice, but I was still a long way from processing my role in the pending massacre.
Faion snapped two fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Sophie,” he said. “You’re still battling in your brain space, come on out into real life.”
I shrugged. What did he expect? That I’d take one look at Paris of the past and all my problems would disappear, and my schoolgirl hopes return?
“We have to get some food in you,” he said, shaking his head. “They got a Yard House in the mall. They got a nice menu and all the beers.”
We walked back across the street. I was not in the mood for people or music or a sports bar to remind me of Emmet. I came to an obstinate halt, pulling on Faion’s hand to get him to stop.
“Not feeling it,” I said, ready to collapse.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he said, arching his brows.
“I just want to go home.”
He nudged me forward again.
“Faion, I mean it. Go have dinner if you want, but I’m calling it.”
He leaned back a little to get a good look at my eyes. “Stop yelling.”
“What? I’m not yelling.”
“Yeah, you are. That’s whisper-yelling and it’s ugly.”
I chuckled. “You’re funny, but the answer is still a loud NO.”
A mini-sized puppy with pointy ears ran up to us, frolicking, and gently tugged on Faion’s pantleg with its tiny teeth.
“Hey, little man,” Faion said, crouching down to pet the dog.
The puppy raised a paw as if to high-five Faion, then backed up, decided to play bite again, then got on his back to have his belly scratched.
Both Faion and I obliged, then the little devil barked and ran off. He had no leash on and no owner in sight and was headed towards the busy street.
“Poor little dude will get run over,” Faion said.
We took off after the dog. A few seconds later, we were following him down into an underground parking garage. The place was empty this time of night and big enough to fit a hundred cars. According to the entrance sign it was corporate parking and closed until Monday.
The puppy saw us, wagged his tail for about half a second, pretended to lunge forward, turned and sprinted deeper into the garage, tripped on his feet and skidded across the concrete floor.
And it was at that very moment that the lights went out.
“Damn,” Faion said in the total darkness.
I reached out for Faion’s hand. We could barely see each other.
The puppy barked.
We switched on our phone lights simultaneously to search the garage.
The pup
py was gone.
“That’s strange,” I said.
Metal roller shutters clanged down behind us, blocking our exit.
Someone stepped out from a cement support column. I squinted as the murky figure stepped right into the faint light from my phone.
I could not believe my eyes.
“Lucia?” I said, incredulous.
“Hello, dears,” Lucia said with a wide grin. “What brings you by?”
It was as if she had just rolled out of bed. She wore a pink sweat suit. Her hair was wild with frizzy curls and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
“What are you doing here?” I said, stepping in her direction.
Faion grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He shook his head, as if to say, stop talking.
To the right, a tall man came into view from behind another support column. His face was concealed by a black mask, just like the man casting spells that night at the pier.
I looked closer. It was the same man. His eyes were hard to forget. He was beefier than I remembered, his muscles stretched the sleeves of his shirt. He shifted from foot to foot as if preparing for a boxing match. Out of his pocket, he produced a gem studded dagger.
White, glyph-like markings suddenly appeared on Lucia’s cheeks and hands, glowing. My God. She had been branded by powerful magic. Some great and terrible force had subjugated her.
“We need to bounce,” Faion said.
Lucia began to chant.
The light will die
The moon will drop
The witch will cry
Her power STOP!
A wave of icy air encircled me, making it hard to breathe. A red glow sparked against the far wall of the garage. Fire.
Don’t do this, Lucia, please, don’t.
The overhead lights zapped back to life with a sizzle. Strange wailing sounds swooshed across the garage. My eardrums throbbed in pain.
Faion stepped back. I felt his energy trembling.
Lucia’s eyes rolled back into their sockets, turning a sickly white.
“Lucia,” I said. “It’s me, Sophie. Lily’s friend. Your daughter’s friend.”
She laughed, then chanted.
The crow will swallow
Luna Page 16