Autumn Moon

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  “Did you find anything?”

  Autumn jumped at the sound of his voice and the keys slipped from her grip, clattering to the floor. “Do you mind not sneaking up on a girl, Jairec?”

  He bent down to retrieve the keys. He handed them to her. “Sorry. I guess I’m quiet on my feet.”

  “Yeah.” She turned toward the drawer and tried the different keys, but none of them worked. “How’d you get in here anyway? I locked the doors.”

  “I have my ways.”

  She looked at him, her brows furrowing. “Supernatural?”

  “It’s a Boston special.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug.

  “Boston …what?”

  “My brother, Tristan showed me how to pick a lock. He pegged the name.”

  “Nice brother,” she said sarcastically.”

  “Yeah. He was always getting into trouble.”

  “Is it just you and your brother then?”

  “No. My mum lives in Ireland, Adara in County Donegal to be exact. She runs a shop selling the famed Donegal wool. My da is in Boston. My parents split up when Tristan and I were just little kids. Mum went back home with us, and Da stayed in the States. When Tristan turned fifteen my mum had enough of his shenanigans and felt I wasn’t far behind in causing her grief. She shipped us to our da deciding we needed a firm hand. Tristan rebelled. He was in trouble more than not which didn’t sit well with our da, who was the chief of police.”

  “I would say not. And you? Were you a troublemaker, too?”

  “Not unless my brother dragged me into the foray of his mess.” He shrugged.

  “So you were a good boy—sometimes.”

  “You could say that I suppose.”

  She looked at him and he grinned.

  “Right.” She shook her head. She had a hunch he wasn’t all that innocent. “So what did you do back in Boston?”

  “I worked on website designs, creating and programming. It’s a booming market right now.”

  “Oh, I can imagine. I want to set up a website. I didn’t realize I could hire someone to put it together for me.” She tried the last key with no luck. “Shoot, none of these work.”

  “Let me try.”

  She waved her hand to the drawer. “Be my guest.”

  In a few seconds, he had the drawer open.

  “How did— never mind I don’t need to know.” She rummaged through the drawer, finding the journal shoved to the back. She took the book out and opened it. She glanced at the entries and frowned. “These are more like incantations than formulas.” She flipped the page and stared at the drawing of a creature: longhaired, pointed incisors and long clawed hands. “Now this is what the chiang-shih should look like. It would give a person a warning they’re about to be attacked.” She glanced up, her gaze sweeping over him. “You’re too good-looking.”

  “Thank you, I think.” He looked over her shoulder at the drawing. “The man or whatever he was who did this to me chanted something before he hit me over the head.”

  She looked at him. “Do you remember what he said?”

  “No.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was disoriented. He seemed determined to beat my brains in, but then maybe he had second thoughts. I don’t know.”

  “But to what purpose? Why would he want to turn you into the living dead? Then leave you to figure out your new life?”

  “Do crazy people have to have a logical reason? Who knows maybe the bloke has a perverted mind and gets his jollies turning people into monsters.”

  “If he was one of the chiang-shih, they eventually kill. There haven’t been any murders. I can’t see how he could have kept that quiet.”

  “I have a theory. Tourists and the homeless—they disappear and no one misses them for a while.”

  “Then it would mean he hadn’t been doing this long. So where has he been hiding? You said you talk to the…”

  “…Seer,” he finished for her.

  “Yes. Frankly, I don’t understand why she sent you to me. What do I have to do with saving you?”

  “I may be a vampire but no one gave me a how-to-be-one book. Your uncle must have known the chiang-shih existed. Doesn’t the journal prove that well enough?”

  “I don’t know what the journal proves.” She looked at the book, her gaze landing on the hideous creature of legend. She swallowed back a lump in her throat. Would Jairec end up looking like this?

  “Perhaps he knew of the chiang-shih, maybe other beings as well. He may have been keeping them at bay. You worked with him, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps he showed you something that would help.”

  “He taught me a lot, but nothing comes to mind that would help you.”

  “I think you know more than you realize. Read the journal. Something will click. Something will prove you have the key after all.”

  He had such hope that she could help him. She didn’t. It wouldn’t take her long to read the journal, but it could take months to decipher it. They only had until Sunday to figure it out. If they didn’t, it would be too late for Jairec.

  She looked at him and frowned. He looked peeked. She wasn’t sure that was the right word, but his skin appeared paler than it did earlier. “How did my treatment work?” She pointed to his ear.

  “I think it’s working. It took the edge off.”

  “But not completely. You need to feed, don’t you?”

  “You offering?” A teasing feral smile tilted his lips.

  “Keep your fangs to yourself. I stopped by the butcher shop. Danny’s a friend from school. He gave me a good deal on the pig’s blood.”

  “He wasn’t suspicious as to why you wanted it?”

  “I said he’s a friend. Come on.” She headed out of the room and he followed.

  “You keep strange friends.”

  “We’re a close knit family here in Chinatown.”

  “Hmm, similar to the way it is back home I imagine.”

  “In Boston?”

  “No, I mean Adara.”

  “You still call Ireland home?”

  “It will always be a part of me. Though I can’t imagine living there anymore, but visiting is grand.”

  He followed her to where a flight of stairs was located in the back of the shop. The steps led to the apartment up above.

  “This is where you live?” he asked.

  “Makes it convenient.”

  “You roll out of bed and start the day.”

  She looked over her shoulder with a smile. “I like to shower and dress first.”

  He grinned. “Of course. You smell nice by the way. Good enough to eat.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment, Fang Boy. I might construe your words as a threat.” She met his gaze and lifted her brows.

  “Not a threat. You don’t have to fear me,” he added hastily.

  “Hmm. Then you might want to do something about your glowing eyes.” She flipped on the lights as she went.

  “Sorry. Comes with the whole I-am-dead persona.”

  She went into her kitchen and flipped the light switch, illuminating the room with a warm glow. A nook with three ornate bar chairs separated the kitchen from the living room. Large pictures of Chinese calligraphy adorn the wall above the earth-tone couch—simple, clean and functional. To the left there was a short hall. Her bedroom stood at the end of the hall and to the right was the bathroom.

  “Here you go.” She handed him a red coffee cup.

  “Thank you.” He stared at the contents and grimaced.

  “Pretend it’s home brewed coffee with a splash of cream.”

  “I wish.”

  Her brows came together. “I’m curious. Can you drink or eat anything other than blood?”

  “Not that I found. I ate the moon cakes I stole from you and threw up.”

  “Don’t tell my grandmother. You’ll hurt her feelings.” She grabbed a pen and paper from her pencil holder that was next to her phone on the kitchen counter. She slid a
bar seat out and sat down to read the journal.

  “So it’s just you and your grandparents?” He leaned against the counter, facing her.

  “Yes, my parents died when I was six.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. My parents were happy together. They loved each other and they weren’t afraid to show it. They may have had only seven years together, but they lived them loving each other.”

  “That’s a rarity. What happened? How did they … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so nosey.”

  “No, it’s okay. A car accident, I would have been with them, but I had a cold and they left me at home with a babysitter.”

  “It wasn’t your time.”

  She looked at him with a wan smile. “No. Fate perhaps had other plans for me.” Her gaze wavered over him, slow seductive. She looked him in the eye. The restless desire there had her heart racing.

  He cleared his throat and pulled at his collar as if it had suddenly become inches too small. “The journal’s thick.” He pointed, changing the subject.

  She sighed. “I read fast. Besides we know you have a blood problem.”

  “To say the least.”

  “Well it looks like my uncle categorized ailments, treatments and—” The sound of glass shattering downstairs had her on her feet. “What was that?” She took a step toward the door, but he placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.

  “You don’t know who’s down there … or what.”

  She chuckled. “Do you think there are more of you around, waiting for me to find a cure?”

  “Probably not, but why take a chance. Let me check it out. Stay here.” He opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped out.

  She waited for about half a second before she ran to the narrow cupboard beside her refrigerator where she kept holiday glasses…among other things. She grabbed her gun then she headed downstairs. “What did he think I did before he entered my life?” she mumbled under her breath.

  More shattered glass, which really pissed her off. At the bottom of the stairs, her gaze latched onto the shadowy figures grappled for control, but she knew the taller broader shadow moved like Jairec. He tossed the man against the counter. The shelves teetered and bottles rattled free, falling to the ground like exploding glass bombs.

  “Jairec, watch out,” she shouted the warning.

  The guy came at him, hurdling him to the ground. She couldn’t use her gun without possibly hitting Jairec; then again she couldn’t kill him. She aimed and fired.

  Curses flew from the assailant as he fell and became still.

  “Holy, holy—Did I kill him?” She ran toward the intruder.

  “Stop, Autumn!” The warning came a second too late.

  The assailant flew to his feet and yanked the gun out of her hand. He held her pressed against his body. “Stay where you are or she dies.” He proved he meant the threat by pressing the barrel against her temple, his fingers itchy to press the trigger.

  ****

  Jairec recognized the timber of the voice and that was startling in its own way. “Tristan?

  “Tristan in like he’s your brother?” Autumn asked.

  Jairec flipped the switch on the wall, flooding the room with light. Tristan squinted his eyes, but he didn’t ease his grip on Autumn.

  “Aye. It’s my no good brother. Let her go, Tristan and tell me where in the hell you’ve been?”

  “I could say the same about you brother.” He jerked his chin at him.

  Jairec sensed something was off kilter with Tristan. His muscles tightened as if he sensed a threat, but he didn’t understand why. This was his brother. “Let Autumn go.”

  Tristan hesitated but he gave her a nudge and she ran to Jairec’s side. Tristan put the gun down on the counter and held onto his right arm where the bullet had grazed his bicep. Blood oozed from the wound, but he’d live.

  “Why didn’t you show up at Castagnolia’s the other night?” Jairec folded his arms against his chest. He couldn’t wait to hear his brother’s lame excuse.

  “Let’s say, I ran into a wee bit of trouble.” His mouth flattened into a fine line. “It would be best if you leave town, Jairec.”

  His brother’s words were laced with a warning and his expression filled with uneasy worry. “What are involved in? Let me help you.”

  Tristan shook his head. “You can’t help me.” He glanced outside as if what had him spooked lurked there. “You can’t fight evil.”

  Jairec felt the dread slam into him as he realized what trouble his brother was in. “You know of the chiang-shih,” he accused. You’re the cause of what I’ve become.”

  Tristan’s gaze riveted to him, his brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

  “When you didn’t show, I went looking for you. The white haired guy that was with you tried to bash my brains, but instead …”

  “No.” Tristan shook his head. His eyes widening as the truth sunk in.

  “… made me one of the undead.”

  “No, how can that be?” Tristan backed away, running his hand through his hair, his expression changing from confusion to concern.

  ****

  Autumn detected the same rolling speech in each man, indicating they were indeed brothers. Tristan stood a few inches shorter than Jairec and that was not to say they weren’t both tall. Tristan’s hair was light. Jairec’s was dark, but they both inherited the same eye color, whether from their mother or their father she didn’t know. “It’s nice that you two are having a family reunion, but what is your brother doing here? Why did he break into my shop?”

  Jairec crossed his arms across his chest. “Answer the question. I’m curious myself.”

  Tristan chuckled. “I could say the same of you.”

  “I was invited.”

  Tristan’s brows lifted. He looked at Autumn and she took a step back not liking how his fixed gaze licked over her.

  Her sight landed on where his wound should have been, but the skin was unmarred. “Holy, holy …”

  Tristan realized where her gaze had landed and he glanced at his arm. “Oh bugger.” He hissed as he lunged toward Autumn, but Jairec was quicker and he threw a punch. Tristan flew through the air landing hard on his back, but before Jairec could grab him again, he scrambled to his feet.

  “We’ll talk later, Jairec to be sure, but I’ll leave you with a warning: The Dragon parade will be your doom. Don’t be a bloody tap, and try to save the day.” He fled into the night without turning back.

  “Tristan!” he called, running after him. He stood at the door, scanning the street, but his brother had already receded into the night.

  Autumn moved beside him. “He’s like you, isn’t he?”

  He turned to look at her. “No, Autumn he’s not. The poor sod’s tasted human blood.”

  Chapter Ten

  After his confrontation with his brother, Tristen made his way back to the warehouse, keeping to the shadows. He needed to think and he didn’t want his brother finding him without a plan in place.

  He paced the large room with the timber beams and poor lighting. The windows had been painted black to keep the sun’s rays out. It was dark and damp like a cave. A perfect layout for the nightmare he was living. He was antsy and frustrated with how the events had played out. He whirled on the white-haired man. His Asian eyes a bottomless pool of silver over black, giving them an unsettling appearance of doom. He went by the name Heng. Whether this was his true name or not the name meant eternal, being a chiang-shih he qualified. “I told you I wanted to keep my brother out of this. We had a deal.”

  “You left me no choice. You brought him here and he wouldn’t stop looking for you.” His voice lowered and his gaze locked onto him. “Once he found you— and you know he would have—he would know you were different. I couldn’t risk it. If I’m to raise an army, we need to be discreet.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug as he examined his long sharp fingernails. “I could have drained him, but I brought him over to our side ins
tead. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  Tristan didn’t voice what he thought of this plan. He knew his brother. Even cursed, he could bet the man still held onto his code of ethics. Sainted Jairec always did what was right. He would never be one of them in spirit. In the end, Tristan knew he would have to eliminate him. He threw up his hands in frustration. He hadn’t wanted this for his little brother. Like always, he’d dragged him into his mess, but this time he didn’t see a way out. “What if Jairec refuses to join us?”

  “He will. They all eventually seek our protection. He’ll only be able to keep the temptation at bay for so long, but it will become too unbearable. He’ll make his first kill and we’ll own him.”

  Tristan swallowed back the sickening lump in the back of his throat. He had yet to make his own first kill. Heng had supplied the blood source thus far. He didn’t want to think of where he had gotten it or whose it was.

  “Chinatown will be ours.” His maniacal laugh grated on Tristan’s nerves.

  Tristan knew Heng was mad, but he’d conjured him up and now he had to deal with him.

  When Tristan had been fired from his job at Old Treasures, an antique store located in the heart of Chinatown, he went to the pub and drank himself into a stupor. Then he did something even dumber, he went back to the antique shop he’d been fired from and broke in. He stole the urn that had arrived earlier that day with symbols he didn’t understand. He recited the passage attached to it, not realizing the words sealed his fate.

  Heng appeared in a cloud of smoke as if he’d released a genie from a bottle. Heng promised a way to get even with his old boss. He promised him power where no one would bother him. He promised he’d live forever. Tristan agreed, selling his soul to damnation. Now sober, eternal life didn’t sound so promising. “My brother was with a human,” he told him.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You knew?” He ignored the quick twist in his gut. “Is this why you sent me there? I thought I was to steal a book or was that a lie too?”

  “No, but I don’t think we need to worry about it. Jin was the sorcerer. If he had taught his niece, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.”

  Tristan narrowed his eyes. “You wanker. You sent me there as the guinea pig to see if I would be zapped into dust.”