Moon Extras

by J. R. Rain

  A massive angel manifested next to her, brandishing a molten silver sword.

  All hell’s breaking loose. And all heaven, too.

  A demon rose up from the ground in a wisp of living smoke, black blade arching down as quickly as the entity appeared. The angel raised its own glowing sword and the two weapons clashed in an explosion of light and inky shadow.

  As fascinating as this was, Tammy found herself tracking Kingsley’s feral, wild mind, a mind that had just decided to fearlessly dive into the wall of blue flames. Tammy snapped her head around, tracking the mind, as a hulking black—and now, burning—wolf burst through the wall of fire. It tucked and rolled, and when it found its feet again, the fire was out, but the fur was badly singed and smoking crazily.

  She knew, of course, that it was Kingsley. This wolf that Kingsley had summoned was not, Tammy could see, easy to corral. It was wild and hungry and ferocious—and as strong as a grizzly. Nearly as big, too.

  The still-smoking wolf spotted her, and dashed forward.

  Finis

  Bonus Scene 9: Street Shark

  (Deleted from Moon Angel)

  Author’s Note: Here, Sam, Allison and Kingsley have just located Tammy, who hadn’t so much run away but had been enticed by the devil. My early ideas, as seen in the prior angel/demon battle scene, was to have some major conflict here. After all, Sam is pissed off and charging headlong to confront the devil. Ultimately, I decided this wasn’t the time or place for a skirmish... and went with my very first idea. Sometimes your first idea is the best! Still, the scene below is a fun one, and still gives me a chuckle.

  ***

  The shadow moved swiftly, racing down the center of the street, impervious to the many street lights to either side of it. The street could have been a river, and I could have been watching a great fish swimming down the middle of it, directly toward us.

  Except this wasn’t a fish, and it wasn’t swimming.

  If anything, the shadow galloped, and had there been a horse attached to it, it would have made sense. But it was a horseless shadow. Now, the massive black head diverged into three heads, and now, those three heads rose up above the street’s surface. I had the impression of a submarine breaching. Behind me, Allison gasped. I just might have gasped, too. It was surely a gasp-worthy sight.

  The three heads rose higher—looking for all the world like a lake monster emerging from a loch in Scotland. Except this was no loch. This was an asphalt street in Santa Ana, California. And the thing emerging was the devil’s three-headed pet, Cerberus. A few strides later and it was fully formed, fully three-dimensional, and now, it charged down the center of the road. Directly toward us.

  I hit the brakes, and before I’d come to a full stop, Kingsley was already out the passenger door, running before us. I noted he’d left his shoes behind, which probably wasn’t a bad idea, since I happened to know they were hand-made Italian loafers. His socked feet slapped hard against the concrete, his arms pumping, and he was already moving far too fast for a man his size. Hell, any man. As he ran, he crouched lower and lower, until finally, he had dropped to all fours, which was a crazy sight to see. Already his legs were changing, his arms lengthening, and his hands receding into paws. Next, his clothing burst from his charging body, and I had a brief glimpse of his white butt before it, too, was covered in dark fur.

  The wolf that was Kingsley leaped high and met the three-headed hellhound in mid-air. Although Kingsley’s jaws immediately found the jugular of the center head, I saw that the wolf was at a distinct disadvantage. The right head of the devil dog clamped down on Kingsley’s right shoulder, and pulled him free, but not before Kingsley himself had torn free the throat of the center dog. The wolf tumbled and rolled and found his feet—or paws. As the center dog screeched in agony, black blood pumping from the wound in his throat, Kingsley and the remaining two heads circled each other. My boyfriend was at a distinct size disadvantage, too. Not to mention, it was technically two against one.

  “Help him,” I said to Allison.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  I opened the driver’s door. “I’m getting Tammy.”

  Bonus Scene 10: Blinded

  (Deleted from Moon Angel)

  Author’s Note: Okay, as I continued down the rabbit hole of Sam going to war against the devil and his demons too early in the story, I had her get seriously hurt. A glass shard punctured her eye, completely destroying it. Her pain is real, and a part of me still feels that her eye had been destroyed. Yes, it would have rebuilt, over time, but not very quickly. Vampire magic goes only so far, you see. The scene takes place just after an epic battle in which Kingsley gets mauled by the three-headed dog, Cerberus. Poor Kingsley!

  ***

  We were in my minivan and my seizures, mercifully, had stopped.

  I was still blind in the eye, and kept my hand over it. It hadn’t repaired itself yet, although I could feel it trying. I suspected that repairing the intricacies of an eye would be time-consuming, and Kingsley confirmed he’d had a similar injury, ages ago in Seattle, which sparked my interest. I hadn’t known he’d lived in Seattle. Then again, he was also almost one hundred years old. He could have lived in many, many different places. I made a mental note to ask him a little more about his past. That is, after my eye healed itself. A process that, according to Kingsley, could take as long as a week.

  Allison asked to see it, claiming she’d once wanted to be a nurse. Judging by the way her face turned bone white, or the way she fought her gag reflex, I suspected she’d made the right career choice. That is, if becoming a witch was actually a career.

  She’d once told me that Millicent, the ghostly leader of her witchy trifecta, had put the kibosh on any ideas of selling her witchcraft services, which seemed like a wasted opportunity, especially since she lived near Hollywood. I’m sure any number of actors and actresses would have paid good money to put a spell on casting directors, or hex a roomful of fellow auditioners into puking their guts out, or to remove whatever spell the Kardashians had put America under.

  Except Allison’s talents weren’t of the healing or hexing kind. Rather, she manipulated energy into, well, into almost anything she wanted. I suspected she was still learning her craft. I’d seen her blast dragons and pin humans to ceilings. I suspected even she didn’t fully know her limits.

  Now, my only thoughts were what was happening just under my palm. I knew my eye had been destroyed. All I could do was trust that my inner being could rebuild it. How it could rebuild it, I didn’t know, but I had to believe it could. I had nothing else. Either that, or I would be blind in my right eye for the rest of my life.

  After I’d collapsed onto my daughter, Allison was by my side, and shortly after, Kingsley was, too. But the man himself was covered from head to toe with scratch marks and bite marks, his flesh hanging free in places. He had his own damage control to deal with.

  Thanks to whatever prescience the devil possessed, most of the crowds had stayed away. Or had been influenced away. Apparently, Kingsley and the three-headed dog had destroyed their fair share of cars, windows, street lights and bus benches. Allison herself had left behind uprooted trees and real craters in the road. It only later occurred to me the sheer amount of damage the three of us could cause.

  With Allison behind the wheel, we were now parked miles away, in the city of Orange, and not very far from a beautiful and old gothic mansion that had been part of a case of mine years ago. In fact, the same case that introduced me to Kingsley Fulcrum, werewolf extraordinaire. The house, I noted with my one good eye, had a “for sale” sign out front. Interesting.

  Many of my smaller wounds had already closed up. I knew this because the skin always itched just after, and I found myself idly scratching my neck and backs of my arms. The bigger wounds were still closing. Those I felt along my back and face. Those would take a few more minutes. The eye... well, the eye was trying. I could feel the first hesitant, quivering forays of nerve endings reaching out an
d, perhaps, connecting just under my palm, which I kept pressed over my right hand. I suspected was going to need to wear an eye patch for a few days.

  Kingsley was breathing through his mouth. He needed more air than I did, for reasons that I didn’t know. Each immortal, I knew, was different, and our skills and talents were often based on the skills and talents of the dark master within us. Of course, I’d only recently learned that my own soul was the source of many of my abilities. Anyway, Kingsley sat next to me in the back of the minivan. It was eye opening—at least one eye opening—to see just how much of the back seat the man actually took up.

  When I realized the pain in my eye wasn’t going away anytime soon, I decided to go ahead and ask the million-dollar question. “Tammy, what did the devil want with you?” Surely, a question no mother should ever have to ask her daughter.

  “He tried to tempt me to the dark side. No big deal.”

  Although I couldn’t read her mind, I heard it in her voice. She was trying to divert me from the real issue.

  “No, Mom. No diversion. That’s what he wanted. Sheesh.”

  But I heard it again, no matter how hard she tried to convince me. The problem was, of course, I had no access, nor did Allison, whose telepathy was reserved for me only. Only Kingsley could access her mind and, at present, he was indisposed, with all of his healing. The teeth on the devil dogs dripped poison, and so did their claws. Indeed, my own arm, where I had been struck by the demon, still burned.

  From the back seat, I sat forward. “Tell me, young lady. Tell me what you did.”

  “Nothing, I swear.”

  But her denial was too insistent. I saw through that, too. The pain only seemed to be worsening in my eye. I felt myself panicking. What if my eye didn’t rebuild? What if this was the one part of my body too intricate to fix?

  Easy, came a voice that was far too close to the surface for my comfort. It was, of course, Elizabeth. It is just your body healing, your eye rebuilding.

  I nearly stomped her back down into whatever dark recesses of my mind she had crawled out of... but I didn’t. Not this time. No, this time, I appreciated her words. Not to mention she wasn’t sounding so batshit crazy. Or menacing. Or oily. Ever since my conversation with her yesterday—the conversation in which we briefly discussed the broader plans of the dark masters—I’d felt sort of... different about Elizabeth. Let’s just say I hated her less.

  Tammy turned in her seat. Or tried to and got hung up on the seatbelt. She unbuckled and twisted around, sitting up on her knees, and faced me from over the headrest. “You should hate her, Mother. You should hate her with all of your heart and don’t ever, ever be friends with her.”

  “Honey, what’s gotten into you?”

  “She’s planning something, Mom.”

  “You know this?” I asked.

  “I... no. I can’t read her mind, not really.”

  I knew this already. I knew my daughter could read minds, but not necessarily the minds of the dark masters. It was why she didn’t quite hear or see Danny in her own brother. Elizabeth herself remained mostly a mystery to her. As with the entities within Kingsley and Fang. The dark masters—even those in training—could conceal in ways that even a freak like my daughter couldn’t get through to them.

  “Not really?” I asked. “Then how do you know she’s planning something, young lady?”

  The strain of looking at her was nearly too much. When my left eye looked and focused, my right eye—or what was left of it—wanted to look, too, and caused undue strain and pain.

  “Never mind—”

  “No,” I said, knowing my daughter was hiding something. All moms, I suspected, were mind readers in their own rights. “Tell me what you know and how you know it.”

  “The devil,” said Kingsley, gasping next to me, still in pain and still healing. “She made a deal with the devil.”

  Bonus Scene 11: Dracula

  (Deleted from Moon Angel)

  Author’s Note: I almost didn’t include this scene, as it’s so short, but I thought some of you might want to know what happened to Dracula’s love slave from Vampire Fire. Why did the scene get cut? I simply decided not to have Sam consult with Dracula after all. Why did I decide that? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. No doubt, I had felt it slowed down the story.

  ***

  Which is why I found myself pounding on Aimee’s Castle’s front doors, in Lake Elsinore. Aimee’s Castle was, of course, the official name used on all the tourist brochures.

  Unofficially, it was Dracula’s Castle.

  I kinda liked the ring of that.

  The last time I’d seen Dracula, he’d looked like hell.

  That had been three months ago, on the very day my son had been kidnapped in broad daylight by what would prove to be a pack of murderous werewolves. All of whom, to the very last hairy bastard, were now dead. All by the hand—or fiery sword—of my son. Poetic justice, I would say.

  Back then, I had roused Dracula from sleep in the middle of the day. I was willing to bet he wasn’t used to that. Last I checked, Dracula didn’t have any living children to pick up from school. Or errands to run. Or clients to meet. He could sleep through the day. The lucky bastard.

  Now, with it well past sundown, he looked fuller, plumper even, and dare I say, radiant, if that was even possible. Indeed, I thought I detected some color in his cheeks, although that could have been lipstick. On cue, I spotted a female in the back of the house, passing from hallway to room. I did not detect an aura around her, which meant she was immortal. During my last meeting with Vlad, I’d taken umbrage that he had been feeding on an unwilling blood source, a woman. I had demanded that he release her, and he had, acquiescing only because the entity within him, Cornelius, was desperate to re-connect with the entity within me, Elizabeth, his one-time lover. And so, I had some leverage when it came to Dracula; after all, there was no connecting with Elizabeth unless I ok’d it. And so far, I hadn’t ok’d shit.

  The woman—or love slave—had gone on to work with Allison at the Psychic Hotline. Last I checked, she had been set up in a sober living apartment and was one of the hotline’s hottest new operators. After all, she should be. Having Dracula feed from her for unknown months had made her—as it would make anyone—psychic as hell. Allison had benefited from me... and still benefited to this day.

  Dracula, I knew, could not read my mind, nor I his. It was for the best, truly. I really, really didn’t want to know what was clanging around up in his noggin. I could only imagine the death and destruction he’d left behind over the centuries. Standing here now, on his alabaster balcony, overlooking the sparkling Lake Elsinore far below—at least, sparkling to my eyes—Dracula could not have been more gentle or genial...

  Finis

  Bonus Scene 12: Insights

  (Deleted from Moon Angel)

  Author’s Note: In Moon Angel, the Alchemist/Librarian, Archibald Maximus, had given Sam some invaluable advice regarding the Angel of Death. The scene was a long one, and it served its purpose. Below was what I had cut from that scene; after all, the scene was already long enough.

  ***

  “I imagine a lot of people would want to get their hands on this book.”

  “Indeed, Sam. It has been sought by mystics throughout the ages.”

  “And it’s been right here the whole time.”

  “Not quite the whole time, Sam. For as long as I have used the university’s facilities.”

  “Which leads me to ask...”

  “No, Sam. The university does not know I’m here.”

  “So, all of this, the help desk, the card catalog, the tables and chairs and footstools and shelves and lighting...”

  “Are all here by my own design. You’ll note that I use my own light source—”

  “But who installed the carpet... who built the offices?”

  “Look again, Sam.”

  I did. And blinked, and held onto the desk because I was suddenly dizzy. The hallway and office d
oors were now upside down, and the carpet was a shimmering pool of shallow water.

  “Only the books are real,” came the Alchemist’s voice. “And me and you, of course. All else is an illusion.”

  “Okay,” I said, blinking and shaking my head. “You can go back to the illusion that doesn’t make me want to vomit or pee.”

  He chuckled lightly and when I opened my eyes again, all was right in the world. “This is real magic,” I said.

  “It is real illusion, Sam. Illusion within illusion, with threads that aren’t so easy to explain, either.”

  “Threads?”

  “The doors that lead to other parts of the world—or to other worlds, altogether.”

  “But I thought alchemists just played with potions.”

  “We do, initially. Until we learn more, Sam. And then we continue to learn, and more and secrets are revealed. Alchemy is just the beginning of a long and twisted path, should someone choose to journey upon it.”

  “But you need to be born into the Hermetic bloodline, don’t you?”

  “It makes it much easier, Sam.”

  “Why?”

  “The alchemical knowledge is encoded in the blood. A new initiate needs only to be shown how to unlock it.”

  I thought of my son. I always suspected Anthony would some day end up at Archibald Maximus’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

  The Alchemist chuckled. “I believe that name is taken, Sam. But yes. I have my eye on him. Who wouldn’t? He’s special.”

  “Even though he’s part vampire?”

  “He’s part something, Sam. Which parts of what, I don’t know just yet. A new breed, perhaps.”