Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Lola Taylor

  A few minutes of silence passed as they each absorbed what had just happened. Elijah glanced at her. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

  He held back from touching her, no matter how much he wanted to. If he did, she might shatter. “You okay?” he asked gently.

  She blinked and startled, then took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s not the first screaming match I’ve gotten into with my dad.” She chuckled, a broken, feeble sound. “Our temper tantrums are legendary.”

  “You stood up for me.” A pause. “Called me your mate.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “Yeah, I did,” she said softly.

  The question burned on his tongue. Did you change your mind about wanting to mate with me?

  He wasn’t ready for the answer, not yet. Better off pretending things could actually work out between them. She was right. They really were star-crossed.

  Absentmindedly, Verika reached into her purse and fished around for her phone. She frowned when she checked the screen.

  “What is it?” Elijah said, immediately tensing.

  “It’s Satine.” Verika scrolled through the messages. “I have fifteen missed calls. She must have found a way around my wards to be able to call me. No one knows this number.”

  “Did she leave any messages?”

  She checked. “No.” Her nails drummed along the steering wheel.

  “You want to go check on her?” he asked.

  She took in a breath and let it out. “We should. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  That makes two of us.

  They drove in tense silence to the shop. He never left her side the entire time to the store.

  Nothing looked out of the ordinary, yet every sense screamed at him to get out. It wasn’t so much physical evidence that something was amiss as it was a sensation, a warning lingering in the back of his mind.

  “Something’s wrong,” Verika said quietly as they walked through the store. The stereo was still blaring classical violin, and incense burned from a jar in the corner.

  That’s what made it so hard to pick up on the smell of freshly spilled blood.

  Elijah growled and bared his fangs as he grabbed Verika and yanked her close. “Someone’s been here… a werewolf.”

  “Satine,” Verika breathed, her face paling. She scrambled to get free of him, the lights and shadows flickering.

  His heartbeat faltered with fear, just long enough for her to slip from his grasp.

  He raced after her, crying her name as she ran to the back room where all the supplies and inventory were kept.

  He didn’t have to hear her horrified sob to know what he’d find—Satine, broken and bloody on the floor, in a pool of her own blood.

  Blood. So much blood everywhere. On the floor, splattered on the walls, in a lake beneath the almost unrecognizable body of her mentor…

  The world spun. She ducked her head just in time to avoid depositing her guts onto Elijah’s bare feet.

  He held her hair back, rubbing one hand up and down her back in soothing strokes. God, it stunk in here. It smelled of death and agony.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at Satine. The image of the angry lacerations that had been carved into her skin was burned into her mind.

  Satine was peaceful, having long removed herself from the cutthroat politics of the witching world despite the fact she was extremely powerful. All she’d wanted was to live a quiet life. Who would want to do something like this to her?

  Verika straightened, catching her breath and concentrating on keeping herself from falling apart.

  “Are you all right?” Elijah asked, his handsome features etched with concern.

  She swallowed, her throat tasting vile and scratchy. “Yeah,” she rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Just shocked.”

  He grabbed her arms and tried directing her back to the door. “We should go.”

  “No.” She stopped him and he reluctantly let her go. Bracing herself, she stepped past him and forced herself to examine the body with the emotional detachment of a DPI agent.

  What looked out of place? What unusual traces did the attacker leave behind? Her training kept running through her head, helping her to keep calm.

  “It can’t be a coincidence I had so many missed calls and then this happened,” Verika said. Her voice was starting to regain some of its strength.

  “Do you know anyone with a vendetta against her?” Elijah asked, surveying the grisly scene.

  Verika sighed. “No. Not really, anyway. She was pretty much nice to everyone and well-respected in the witching community. She kept to herself a lot. Didn’t want to fool with all that ‘political bullshit’,” she added with a sad smile.

  Elijah studied the body and the surroundings with a critical eye. “It was definitely a werewolf. They tried to hide their signature but did a pretty shitty job of it.”

  “How can you tell?”

  He shrugged, looking away. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  She knew it had something to do with what had happened to him when he was detained by the Order. His screams from when her spell had backfired still haunted her. She caught the name “Black” from his mumbling and figured he was reliving some unpleasant memory. She wouldn’t push him to talk about it. When he was ready to open up to her, he would.

  Not pressing the subject, she said, “Do you recognize the werewolf scent?”

  He sniffed again and shook his head with a growl. “No. I can tell you I don’t know him.”

  Verika’s shoulders fell. This was all such a mess. “Does Mistress Black keep any werewolves on her payroll?”

  “Oh, yeah. That and fairies and angels and demons and all sorts of other creatures she thinks might come in handy.”

  Verika wanted to punch something. How many people did Mistress Black have on her payroll? How many government officials, doctors, lawyers, thugs, DPI agents? How many people had slipped under their radar?

  “No one should have that much power and sway,” Verika said with a shudder.

  “Especially a psychotic bitch like her,” Elijah muttered, eyes flashing gold.

  Verika sighed, biting her lip to distract her from the tears stinging her eyes. “We should call the police.”

  Elijah studied her. “But you don’t want to.”

  Verika nibbled her lip. “It’s hard to trust people to take care of her body. What if they also work for Mistress Black and just try to get rid of the body by any means necessary?”

  Elijah searched her eyes. “Then let’s not call the DPI.”

  Indecision warred in her. She should uphold the law. After all, she’d taken an oath.

  Look at how many rules you’ve broken so far. And you call yourself an agent?

  Her instincts told her to keep this quiet, that even people she thought she could trust could be the enemy.

  Feeling like a rotten cop, she opened her mouth to speak when Elijah’s head jerked to the side. His eyes widened as he sucked in a breath.

  “Get—”

  The building shook with an eardrum-splitting boom. Verika was nearly thrown into the wall, but Elijah caught hold of her before she could crack her head on the cement.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She nodded. “What the hell was that?”

  “Don’t know. It sounded like it came from the alley.”

  Taking her hand, he led her out through the store and into the alley.

  Smoke billowed through the door, sending them both into coughing fits. Big, dark gray clouds and flames billowed out of what used to be her car. Or, well, someone’s car, considering it was stolen.

  Chills ran up her spine. It had to be whoever killed Satine. Had they been watching them when they’d walked in? How close had they come to death?

  “Verika.”

  Her eyes snapped to the side as Elijah pointed to the door. A piece of paper had been tacked there. A message that appeared
to have been scrawled in blood glared on the white page.

  If you want answers, come to your parents’ house, little witch.

  —G

  She nearly choked on her own heart as it leapt to her throat. “Oh, my God. My parents! I can’t lose them. I can’t.” Her hands started to shake.

  Elijah grabbed her and made her face him before she could fall completely apart. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get to them.”

  “How?” Verika gestured at the car. “Even if I ghetto-rig it with spells, I doubt it’s going to run.”

  He grinned. “Who said anything about taking a car?”

  The way back to her parents’ house seemed to take forever, but that could have been the fact she was holding on for dear life on the back of a gigantic black wolf.

  Elijah was surprisingly swift for his size. His muscles moved beneath her, sure and strong. She’d cast a cloaking spell so no one would see them. Not that they’d believe what they saw. When was the last time anyone saw a crazy redhead riding a wolf like a horse?

  Elijah skidded to a halt outside her parents’ house, right in the back where it was shielded from prying eyes. He shifted back, grabbing the cloth off the picnic table to cover himself, and they charged the door. It was wide open. Immediately, she sensed a werewolf.

  Elijah growled as a tall, dark figure came from the kitchen.

  He was handsome, with wildness in his eyes that clashed with his well-dressed exterior. He was tall, like most wolves were, and his leather jacket showed off his broad shoulders. Honestly, what was it with werewolves and leather? His clothing looked high-label. The jeans were new, as were the black boots with silver spurs. His dark hair had been combed back with a bit of gel. Verika might have found him handsome had she not known what he was capable of.

  He smiled at them. “Hello, friends. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gerard, ex-captain of the guard for his majesty, High King Victor Crescent.” He bowed with a flourish.

  Verika and Elijah exchanged glances. She’d heard, of course, that the high king had been killed, as had the rest of the royal family members. All but one daughter, and apparently she was illegitimate and unable to take the crown.

  This reject from drama school must have been involved in that fiasco somehow. “What the hell do you want?” Verika snapped, her nerves fried. Her patience bucket was empty.

  He chuckled. “My, my, you must get your manners from your father. Too bad you’re not blood-related.” He leaned against the wall, looking like an old friend come to visit instead of a murderer.

  “Where are they?” she demanded.

  “Safe,” Gerard said, his eyes shining with malice. “For now.”

  “If you’ve done anything to hurt them—” Verika started forward.

  “Oh, calm down. I haven’t touched them. I’ve merely tucked them away where they can’t interfere.”

  “Interfere with what?” Elijah snapped.

  Gerard sized him up. Verika knew this was something werewolves tended to do, regardless of whether or not they chose to align themselves with a pack. “I came to offer you a place in our coven,” he said, turning his attention to Verika.

  She blinked. “What coven?”

  “You know,” he said, grinning.

  What he was asking slowly sank in. “You mean join the Order.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Why me? There are thousands of other more powerful witches out there.”

  “Powerful, yes. Useful, not so much. You have a gift, Verika, for breaking spells. Not everyone possesses such a knack. My mistress has been most interested in you for a while now. Our informant tells us you’ve come a long way.”

  It struck her who, exactly, that informant was.

  Emilia. Verika swore if she lived through this, the first thing she was doing was going back home and kicking that vindictive witch’s pretty little ass.

  Verika narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, you can forget it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so rash to dismiss our invitation.” Anger simmered behind his words. “It is a great honor.”

  “You disgust me! The whole lot of you! Joining you would be the last thing in this world I’d ever do!”

  Gerard raised a dark brow. “Even if it meant saving your parents’ lives?”

  She stopped.

  He smiled. “That’s what I thought. At least mull it over. You have twenty-four hours to give me your answer.”

  “Or what?” Elijah said.

  Gerard glanced at him, then at the Mark on Verika’s hand. “Then we will come for your mate until we get an answer.”

  “More like the answer you want,” Elijah growled. “She’s already told you she’s not interested.”

  “Oh, I think she’ll become more interested when her parents are involved. You noble types are so predictable.”

  “I doubt that,” Verika sneered. Raising her hands, she screamed, “Surgent umbrae et serpens!” Shadows shot out of her palms and her eyes turned pitch-black for a moment. The shadows blurred like dark smoke, finally taking on the shape of two snakes with glowing green eyes. They hissed and launched themselves at Gerard.

  His eyes widened. “What the—” He darted out of the way about the time the snakes moved to strike. The lights dimmed and the wood floor groaned as shadows seeped from the nooks and crannies, feeding the snakes’ size. They grew larger, until they were easily the size of Elijah.

  Gerard swore and quickly shifted as the snakes came after him. They tore up the living room in their chase, snapping and hissing and wriggling after their prey. The gray wolf pounced and bounded atop fallen furniture, dancing about the room like a furry ballerina.

  At last, Gerard leapt out a window, shattering it. The second the snakes tried to follow outside, the light hit them and they evaporated with pained hisses.

  Verika’s arms dropped and she sagged to the ground, panting hard.

  Elijah fell to his knees beside her. She felt cold all over, as if someone had drenched her in ice water. Her stomach roiled, threatening to erupt again at any minute. God, why was she so sick? It was just a simple conjuring spell. It had never had this effect on her before. But the snakes, the same animal she always conjured, had never been able to feed off darkness like that before either.

  Something was wrong. It felt like something that had long since been asleep had awoken inside her. And it wanted out.

  “What was that?” Elijah said, gazing at her with a little bit of fear.

  “I…” She stared at her hands. The smooth, pale skin of her palm looked so harmless, so normal. No shadows coiled there, like a bed of angry serpents waiting to strike.

  Yet, she had seen it, could still feel the dark power writhing deep within her. It was only a pulse, but it was much more pronounced now.

  She looked at Elijah, the words lodging in her throat.

  “I think… I think that was Black Magic.”

  Verika was shaking all over. Nothing in her life made sense. No matter how long she stared at her trembling fingers, the shadows didn’t manifest again.

  Warm, calloused hands took hers. She gripped them back, needing Elijah’s strength right now.

  How many times was her life supposed to be flipped upside-down in one week?

  First, there was the revelation that the DPI had been compromised.

  Then she was marked by a werewolf, only to discover her latent powers of darkness.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed.

  Elijah chuckled.

  “It’s not funny!” she snapped. She could feel a meltdown coming on.

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just, I could think of several more colorful expletives to use in a situation like this. You just discovered you have one of the most desired and rarest forms of magic out there.”

  “But, I don’t know how I got it.”

  He released her hands and pulled her to the couch. Sitting down was definitely a good idea in this case. Her legs felt like jelly.

  “Well, witches
can become infected with magic,” he suggested.

  She appreciated his levelheadedness in this situation. Normally, that was her. But she didn’t trust herself to think straight right now. Her whole life had just been derailed.

  She nodded. “It’s possible. Better than the alternative.”

  “Would it be terrible having Black Magic?”

  She stared at him. “Every Black Witch or Warlock in history has been a murderer. Black Magic is evil.”

  “I think that might have more to do with the bearer.” He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I doubt anyone as good as you could ever be evil. There’s a purpose to you having Black Magic. We just have to uncover what it is.”

  His faith in her was flattering but did little to abate the terror taking over her body.

  She swallowed hard. “That man, Gerard… he said he came here for me. It’s all my fault my parents are gone.”

  “Don’t you dare say that. Gerard’s a prick and you had nothing to do with his actions.”

  “But we don’t know where to find my parents. What if they’re already dead and he was just lying?”

  “Hey.” He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “Don’t think like that. We’re going to find them. I promise.”

  His promises were so sweet. She wanted to keep staring into his eyes, to believe in what he said.

  But she’d been fed pretty lies before. Life had a way of making you cautious.

  He stood, pulling her up with him, and looked around. His eyes narrowed on something by the window. Striding across the room, he knelt, picked up a tuft of fur, and sniffed. His wolf eyes shone gold for a few seconds. “Looks like one of your vipers got a piece of him.”

  “Can you track him?” she asked, walking to him.

  He grinned. “You bet your pretty little ass I can.”

  “Good,” she said, feeling her blood simmer with anger. The darkness inside her stirred at the vengeful thoughts going on inside her head. She’d have to be extra cautious. The history books of her race said darker thoughts often fueled Black Magic because of its fundamental nature. Some had lost control of it altogether by surrendering to their darkest desires.