“A fetch is no match for me, human.” The demon’s deep voice rang through my chest.
“One, maybe. But hundreds? Stealing souls in the future may get tricky if you have a horde of fletches stalking you. ‘Twould be easier for all involved if you accept our request.”
The demon’s breath surged out of his nose in steamy streams. “The witches were correct. She really is the one I want.” His red eyes raked over me as he addressed Patrick. “Her power saved her the night I took your brother.”
Zepar scowled and, for a nanosecond, I wondered if he would try to kill me again. The night of Michael’s death remained a mystery and now I desperately wanted to keep it that way. I glanced down, staring at the toes of my boots. Everyone was wrong. I wasn’t anything special.
“You’re more special than you know,” Zepar muttered. “And more interesting alive than you would be with me.”
I glanced at him and saw a flicker of calculation flash across his eyes. He appeared much like a cat releasing a mouse in order to enjoy tormenting it again later.
The giant advanced and our little line of troops separated, parting for him. Zepar knelt and lifted Josie, crushing her against his chest. He yawned, his mouth forming a vast O. Josie’s head dropped back, causing her mouth to open wide. The demon inhaled, sucking golden-white light from her body. Her eyes fluttered open, huge and filled with fear. She beat her small fists against his broad chest, but she couldn’t scream. Her eyes rolled back and her body went still. With a rush of steamy air, the incubus breathed Arctic-blue light into her mouth. He set her down, turned and stalked past us without a word, stepped into the fire and vanished.
Patrick ran over to Josie, kneeling on the rocks beside her. “Michael?” he whispered. Josie nodded but said nothing.
Meg touched my shoulder. “Take Josie’s car and hurry. I’ll stay here and help the others.”
“Okay.” I handed over her cell and keys and then yanked on Patrick’s thick arm. “C’mon, let’s get Michael out of here.”
Chapter 12
Patrick assisted Michael up the steps while I jogged ahead to the house. I found the car keys and ran to the garage. Josie’s big green Land Rover revved to life. I backed out and then helped Patrick get Michael settled in the rear seat.
We sped down the dark country roads, merged onto Vashon Highway and headed to the north ferry dock. The Vashon ferries ran more frequently than the San Juan’s, and we managed to board the last boat to West Seattle. During the short ride, we remained quietly seated in the SUV. I didn’t have anything to say and I assumed the others were as wrecked as I felt.
West Seattle seemed to be against us. We hit every red light and saw police cars three different times. I kept the speed at the posted limit and focused on my driving. But once I made it to the freeway, we had a near straight shot to the University. After navigating the U-District’s quiet streets, I squealed to a stop in front of Michael’s old dorm. Hunched students crisscrossed the dimly lit campus, lonely specters gliding through the mist.
“Stay here,” Patrick ordered and jumped out of the car. He ran down the path and into the shadows.
I turned and looked at Josie. “Michael?”
Her eyes opened. “Aye.”
“Oh Michael. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t remember anything about the night you died.”
“’Tis okay, Rose.”
I sobbed hearing his Belfast voice coming out of her mouth.
“You tried… to save me.”
Tears streamed down my face and my chest tightened. “You’re going home now, Michael. Flynn’s going to take you home.”
He smiled. “I can see… you’re in love.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Had Michael noticed Patrick holding my hand during the drive? I ran a finger beneath my eye, catching a single tear.
“Yer… a bad liar. Patrick’s… a great guy. Bit of a wanker.” His laugh turned into a fit of coughs. “You go home too.”
The dam burst and tears rained down, soaking my shoulder. I brought his hand to my lips. “I will. I promise.”
The passenger door flew open and Patrick slipped in. With a quiet crackle-hiss, Flynn appeared in the backseat next to Michael.
“Well done,” Flynn said, his electric blue eyes pulsing. “I’ll take Michael’s soul, but that will leave this body empty. I recommend you drive to hospital and leave her there for observation and then admission.” My dead boyfriend’s twin smiled warmly at me, seemingly oblivious to my tears. “I hear the UW has a fantastic psych ward.”
A strained laugh ripped out of my chest, making me cry harder.
Flynn ran his knuckles down my wet cheek. A punch of electricity zipped through my core, causing the hairs on my arms to stand at attention. “I heard your prayer, Rose. I can make it come true.”
I shifted in the driver’s seat, breaking the connection with the doppelganger. “I’ve uttered about a million prayers over the past twenty-four hours. Could you be more specific?” I patted my scalp, nearly amused to find my hair had puffed up from his touch.
“You and Patrick are meant to be together, but not like this.”
Patrick clasped my knee. “Wait, Rose… you’re not serious?”
I turned and cupped his face, my thumbs caressing his short beard. “Don’t you want a fresh start? Don’t you want us to meet and not have all these doubts and horrors between us?” My mouth stretched into a dopey grin. “Don’t you want us to fall in love for real?”
Without breaking eye contact Patrick said, “Michael?” The intonation of the single word conveyed a whole host of questions.
Josie sniggered. “She’s worth it, brother. Do it right.”
Patrick leaned toward me, pressing his forehead to mine. “Okay, m’love.” His warm, minty breath filled my lungs.
“Okay, my love,” I echoed.
“When you and Patrick and the Vashon witches awaken tomorrow, every memory you had of Josie and Zepar and me will be erased. Josie’s spells will also be lifted,” Flynn said and then turned toward Michael.
We ignored the doppelganger while he drank Michael’s soul from the host body. I wanted to savor the next couple of hours. I wanted to forget about demons and fetches and evil spells. I only wanted to touch Patrick and breathe in his rich scent and bathe in his deep voice. I wanted to drown in his warm blue eyes with the knowledge that, sometime in the near future, they would eventually belong to me.
For the first time in three years, I looked forward to the future. I looked forward to the unknown.
When Michael’s twin finished, he wiped his mouth, winked at me and vanished in a cloud of periwinkle pixie dust. Josie curled on her side, her face soft and peaceful. By morning, she would be a nobody.
I put the Land Rover in gear and drove to Harborview Medical Center. Patrick and I wheeled Josie into the E.R. and advised the nurses we found the young woman on the side of the road. No we didn’t know who she was. No we didn’t have any other information. They took our fake names and fake numbers and then we strolled out the doors holding hands like giddy teenagers.
Epilogue - Six Months Later
The otters were at it again, playing or fighting or just bugging the hell out of me for the sheer fun of it. I dug out of the blankets and squinted at the bedside clock. Blood-red numbers hovering in darkness glared back: 12:13.
Thump, bump-ump.
“Really, dudes?” I croaked and tossed back the blanket. My toes dug into soft wooly slippers. I shuffled through the living room, a pang of contentment slipping between my ribs and wrapping around my lungs like a cozy bear hug. Even though my “Rose McCarty’s Gone Fishing” sign had been posted across my heart for so long, I counted myself quite lucky.
Three and a half years since Michael died.
Three and a half years and I was still alive.
Alive thanks to my altruistic coven and my annoying older sister.
Moonlight caught on the water, pale satin caressing dark ripples. The
neighboring floating homes lining the narrow channel were serene as corks bobbing on a pond. I pressed my face to the sliding glass door and peered at the back deck. One rosemary plant had been tipped over and black soil trickled from the lip of the pot. But there was no other movement. The door slid open with a quiet see-whoosh and sweet spring air swirled around me, making my arms break out in goose bumps.
I shook my head, trying to erase a surreal case of déjà vu.
My breath hitched at the next loud thump bump-ump. My finger caressed the switch for the outside floodlight, but I hesitated. Subtle senses warned me to remain in the dark. For as much as I tried to hide being a witch, I knew better than to ignore the signs.
I flicked on the light and took a deep breath before craning my head around the door. No otters tonight, just Lake Union’s gentle waves knocking a hunk of drift wood against my deck.
Air eased past my lips, a happy exhalation at finding nothing creepy in the dead of night. I turned off the light, closed the door and shuffled back to my bedroom. Tomorrow (today, really) was going to be a big day and I needed sleep. I’d been hired as an expert witness in a huge environmental trial and I had to face some fancy-schmancy oil company attorneys.
Me. A little fish in a big pond filled with sharks. I sighed and tucked the covers under my chin. Boy, were those attorney’s in trouble—no one knew more about sharks than this magical marine biologist.
As I drifted into sleep, a musical voice whispered inside my head, “Tomorrow is going to be epic, m’love.”
THE END… for now
About the Author
Shannon transplanted to Seattle from Southern California in the late 1990’s and is constantly mesmerized by the snowy mountains, sapphire-blue lakes and overall grandeur of the Pacific Northwest. She encourages everyone to visit Puget Sound and even believes there really are sparkling vampires in Forks and a Sasquatch in the Cascade Mountains. Trust her, she’s a fiction writer after all.
shannonobrienauthor.wordpress.com
Dead Moon
By
KL Mullens
Chapter 1
Under a cloudy moonless sky, Elspeth Saint languished in a sea of traffic. Something in her universe had changed. She’d met someone peculiar and strange. An hour later the goose bumps remained. Her sanity hung by a thread.
I’ve never hallucinated in my entire life. Never.
She remembered the raised eyebrows, followed by the wait-for-it eye roll, and slow motion jaw drop of the crew.
We’re sorry, m’am, but there was no one sitting next to you on the flight.
You slept the entire way.
There was no one on the flight that fit that description.
Dread oozed out of her pores and permeated the SUV’s interior. She opened a window. The cool night air momentarily brought her back from the brink.
They thought I was crazy. I think I’m crazy. Who does this? Crazy people that’s who.
Elspeth looked in the rearview mirror. They looked like her eyes: brown with a little bloodshot on the side. They felt like her eyes too: misty on the cusp of a good cry. There had to be a perfectly sane explanation for what had just happened.
She sniffed the sleeves of her blouse. The earthy sage scent still lingered there. The pungent fragrance filled the plane’s cabin. Overcome almost to the point of smothering, she was about to ring for the flight attendant when an old woman wobbled down the aisle. She oohed and aahed as if everything amazed her. Two heavy braids crisscrossed the top of her head which bounced like a bobble-head doll. Then the piercing black eyes zeroed in on Elspeth. Her heart shuffled, altered. Sculpted cheekbones shifted in the wrinkled sun-worn face. The memory alone made Elspeth feel woozy. And then there was that crazy blanket the woman wore draped around her shoulders. Its spiral weave pattern had a hypnotic effect on her. Elspeth blinked briefly and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Even in her memory it had the power to mesmerize.
Would you like me to be your grandmother? I am a good grandmother. I have many grandchildren. I’m going to see my grandson. He’s the best grandson in the whole world. Would you like to be my granddaughter?
Jolted out of mental playback by a crescendo of car horns, Elspeth saw the string of headlights in the driver side mirror and snorted. How rude. Without another thought she sighed and stepped on the gas. If only she hadn’t been distracted. If only she’d been paying attention. If only she’d left her foot on the brake instead.
It’s been said that right before you die your whole life flashes before you: Some see a blinding white light. Others feel the spirit leave the body. But Elspeth experienced none of those things when her SUV went airborne. Not that the last thing on her bucket list would be a trip down memory lane. Hers had been a life not worth remembering. Not worth saving. So her last thought in freefall was how blessed it would be to forget it all. They say be careful what you wish for.
Elspeth’s consciousness drifted within a dark void. Even in nothingness there was still something. A singularity; a single point of being. Some call it the soul, the truth of who you are. Hers lingered at the place of crossing and did not move on.
Cocooned by the darkness, she was content to pulsate until a distant disturbance lured her towards its throbbing presence. Caught in its gravitational pull, she eventually found herself back in the familiar confines of her body. Her eyes saw but were not open. She commanded them to blink but they remained closed. She willed them to open. Nothing. Try again. She felt a tremor. Try harder. Her eyelids fluttered.
Elspeth woke slowly, sprawled on a beach engulfed in a smoky gray fog. Gentle waves caressed the soles of her feet, then her ankles, calves, thighs, moving higher and higher until one found its way into her nose. She gulped and gasped as the briny water invaded her lungs. Instinctively she pushed up with her hands. Stiff from the cold, she didn’t get very far. Her body resisted the reunion but she moaned it into release.
With one extreme effort she shoved up onto all fours, and stayed in that position for a few moments to get her bearings. She glanced around, slowly taking in the view. Everything was ensconced in mist. Where am I? Her mind was blank. Who am I? Her memory wiped clean, she sat back on her heels and stared at the dissolving imprint of her body in the sand.
“Elspeth,” she whispered. “I know my name is Elspeth.”
A chilly wave smacked her backside and she scrambled up the beach like a crippled crab. The dense fog made it impossible to determine any distinguishing landmarks other than the sand beneath her feet and the waves at her back.
Without memory, map or compass, and unsure of which way to go, Elspeth did what any self-respecting amnesiac would—she followed the wind. As she made her way along the beach, wet grainy sand sifted up between her toes. Shoeless and clueless. This just gets better and better.
Shivers raked and rattled her as the temperature dropped. A stealthy chill slipped deep into her bones. The steady ache of cold ransacked her senses. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, the tide moved in. No matter how far inland she crept, the water found her. She could not escape.
Elspeth felt her way through the shadowy fog—hands out in front, alert for any sign of life. The muscles in her feet grew tight exposed to the cold sea air. The going was slow and she plodded heavily along the shore. If only she could see something. If only she could remember. If only she could get warm. Drained, she crouched down on the sand with her arms around her body and called out.
“Hello, can anyone hear me?” She held her breath and listened. Nothing but the echo of endless surf. She fought to push back feelings of hopelessness and despair. Stay positive. She called out again. Still nothing. She stood up and pressed on.
Eventually the terrain changed. The sand turned to gravel and the grade of the beach grew steep. The gravel became pebbles and the pebbles became rocks with a little seaweed thrown in to slip her up. It didn’t take long to find that the edge of the beach ended abruptly at a sheer rock wall. She followed its ledge and found that it curved around in
to a sheltered cove. Desperate, she called out until her voice became so hoarse she no longer recognized its ricochet.
Frustrated, she sat on a small boulder, pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. There was such a thing as too much unknown and she had reached that threshold.
She stared out towards the lapping waves. Somewhere out there someone knew her and maybe what had happened to her. She laid her head on her knees. Hold on.
The distant crackle of a fire stilled her heart. Elspeth raised her head, narrowed her eyes and listened. A ribbon of red flame sputtered. She arched her neck and stared in its direction. Hope rallied. She jumped up and ran with desperation towards the muted glow.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Focused on the flames, she stumbled over a fallen log and tumbled head first to the ground and landed inches from a ferocious bonfire. The wood popped and sparked. She welcomed the piquant burn of the damp smoke in her eyes.
The fire’s warmth flooded her veins and loosened the ice cap at her core. A sob of relief caught in her throat. She felt a presence. Elspeth’s heart pounded against her chest. Two smoldering eyes, black as night, seared a pathway to her soul branding her. Their eyes locked and a shockwave rippled through her body.
He was extraordinary—a few inches over six feet, muscular and lean. A rush of wind lifted his disheveled black hair which barely touched his shoulders, whipping it across his distinctly carved copper face. A gray and brown blanket with a weave pattern and fringed edge hung from his shoulders. Beneath it a khaki-colored wool tunic decorated with a laced neck stretched across his broad chest. He wore dark leather leggings that hugged his long lithe legs and on his feet were beaded moccasins. Elspeth eyed the fancy footwear longingly.
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