Blood Moon's Servant: A Paranormal Thriller

by Leah Kingsley

  “That’s great! Does that mean a bunch of angels are going to corner him and blast him with that light stuff you use?”

  God, he was cute. He acted like angels were a new type of superhero. She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. Alex has been classified as high risk. That means detaining him will be difficult, even with the help of several supers. It’s not a question of sheer numbers defeating him. It’s more outsmarting him that presents the challenge. Darks have complicated minds, and manipulation is their number one weapon.”

  “Why can’t Alex teleport with darkness?”

  Kimmy furrowed her brow as she struggled to explain. “You play sports, right? Think of supernatural powers as strengths certain players are known for. Some are fast runners. Some have great reflexes. It’s the same with supers. Certain species are known for characteristic traits, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be excellent at absolutely everything.”

  “Kind of like how every football player wouldn’t play every position on a team?”

  “Yeah, that’s close. Alex is smart. He has an affinity for powers that involve his mind. He can read the thoughts of people near him but not those who are far away. He is able to manipulate individuals who are emotionally or physically close to him, and he can force his will on less prepared or weaker minds. He can ghost through the ground and the walls because those things are close by. But he cannot teleport long distances.”

  Peter gazed thoughtfully into traffic. “Charles is pretty smart.”

  “Exactly. Charles is good at resisting Darks because he has taken the time to understand them.” Goosebumps rose on her skin. Kimmy had had years and years of personal experience fighting a few specific Darks. Did that mean she was adequately prepared to face one she barely knew?

  Kimmy glanced up from her phone and shot an anxious look out the passenger-side window. They were gridlocked in traffic, inching their way across a suspension bridge. Did Alex have the ability to track them? She pictured the bridge snapping in two and plunging them into the water below.

  “What happened between you and Charles?” She blurted the question in an attempt to distract herself from the danger they were in.

  “You ask me a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t like answering them.”

  “You answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.” She twinkled. Curiosity about Peter’s shady past was eating her up inside.

  Peter tapped his fingers against the wheel. He looked anywhere but at her. “All right. To be honest, I genuinely like Charles. We were actually pretty close for a while. But Alex and Nathan hated him, so I helped them beat him up in school. We scarred him for life, made him try to take his own life at one point.” His words were laden with guilt.

  “You used to beat people up?” She should have guessed as much. Peter had been in a gang after all. But he was so sweet to her. She had pictured him as the quiet kid who had fallen in with the wrong crowd. “Okay, it’s your turn.” Would she ever survive a social situation without making herself or those around her uncomfortable?

  “Is that Tommy guy your boyfriend?”

  She jerked her gaze to him. “No! I mean, we have history, but Tommy isn’t really boyfriend material.” She made a face. She hated tripping over her words. “Why do you ask?”

  “Is that your question?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “I assumed you had to have a boyfriend. You’re gorgeous, successful, and brilliant.”

  “Thank you.” She blushed. He fell silent. She hesitated for a moment before the question leapt from her lips. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

  Peter laughed. “What do you think? I got out of prison a week ago, and you’ve kept me busy ever since.”

  “You could have been with someone before prison. Besides, you’re attractive. It’s not much of a stretch to assume.”

  “You think I’m attractive?” Peter gave her a sidelong glance.

  Kimmy’s heart beat a drumroll in her chest. Was he hitting on her? No, he was teasing like last time. She returned to her work, her face glowing hotter than the setting sun.

  “We’re here.” Peter pulled into a parking space near Charles’s dorm. “You better go in alone. He won’t be happy to see me.”

  “Noted.” She located Charles’s mind with holy light and slipped from the car. She strode into the cafeteria and marched straight up to him. “Want to help me apprehend Alex?”

  “Do you even need to ask? Tell me what to do.”

  She led him back to her car as she explained her plan through a light link, a useful mental channel that connected the thoughts of two or more minds. It was similar to mages’ mind links and much faster than talking out loud.

  You forgot to mention him, Charles grumbled through the link as they joined Peter at the car.

  Yes, she said shamelessly. I wanted to make sure you’d help before I brought him up. Here, now you’re driving. She thrust her keys into his hand.

  Isn’t he a liability? Charles shot Peter a scowl.

  “Yo, supers.” Peter waved to get their attention. “I’m right here. Stop talking in each other’s heads.”

  Charles gaped. “You enlightened him?”

  Peter shrugged as if his enlightenment had been no big deal. “Only after Alex shot me.”

  “Alex shot you?”

  “Yeah, and you don’t have to look so happy about it.” Peter clambered into the back seat. Kimmy cocked her head. Charles must really make Peter uncomfortable for him to prefer even less leg room over sitting next to him.

  Kimmy took shotgun and threw Peter a concerned look. “Charles does have a point. It might be better if you sat this one out.”

  “You said having me there would distract Alex.”

  Charles’s eyes widened. “You’re using him as bait?”

  “Better me than either of you,” Peter said.

  Charles frowned. “What did that prison do to you?”

  Kimmy scowled. “Just drive.” Alex would have to go through her before he got anywhere near Peter again. “Here.” She passed Peter her work phone. “This is sinked to my primary cell. Handle all inquiries from A to M. Ask me if you’re not sure how to respond. I need an extra pair of hands if I’m going to get everything organized before Alex arrives.”

  He accepted her phone. The car was soon filled with the clicking of keys and whooshing of outgoing texts and emails. Kimmy eventually reached a voicemail from someone named Doctor Rivera, who turned out to be an enlightened human with a supernatural stepson in Susan’s class. He explained how Susan had been admitted to a psych ward after exploding into hysteria at Alex’s inhuman departure and urged her to remedy the situation immediately. “Why does everyone expect me to solve everything?” she muttered under her breath.

  She clicked on the number for one of her childhood best friends, Becky Pacherri. Becky was Xander’s younger sister and Felicia’s twin. She worked in the human relations department at the OSC, and her team specialized in righting wrongs inflicted by out-of-control supers. She was sure Becky could pull some strings and spring Susan loose.

  “Kimmy!” Becky’s annoyingly perky voice exclaimed over the line. “It’s wonderful to hear from you.”

  “I have a problem I hope you can help me with.”

  “Of course, you do,” she said. “What happened this time?”

  Thirty-eight

  ZACK CROSSED HIS arms over his chest and scowled at Max with undisguised hate. Amy’s punk criminal ex-boyfriend was meant to be in police custody by now, but Alex kidnapping Chris had messed up that happy ending. Instead, they were keeping Max as their prisoner to fool Alex into thinking Zack had been captured. As if. He rolled his eyes at the thought. As long as Kimmy was right in thinking Alex would bring Chris here to finish everyone off at once, both Max and Alex would be right where they belonged very soon.

  He and Amy took turns watching their prisoner while Damien puttered around in the kitchen making dinner. Amy found an old photo album and entertained them
all by explaining the story behind each one of Justin’s terrible haircuts. It would have been a pleasant evening if it weren’t for Max’s sour looks.

  “You make a mean burger.” Zack had polished off two and had to force himself to stop there.

  “Yeah.” Amy leaned back in her chair with a blissed-out look in her eyes. “When did you learn to cook?”

  Damien quirked a grin. “Like, when I was five. I used to make you cakes for your birthday and bribe Layla to say they were from her.”

  Amy stared. “Why would you make me cakes? I thought you hated me.”

  “I never hated you. I was a little scared of you, though. I had a massive crush on you.”

  Zack rolled his eyes. Damien was word vomiting his feelings all over Zack’s good mood. He wished every guy in Amy’s past, present, and future would stop crushing on her and quit declaring their undying love. Maybe some time apart from Damien would do them good. “Can I have a tour of your house?”

  “Sure.” Amy got to her feet. “Damien, you good to watch Max for a while?”

  He shrugged. “Not a problem.”

  Zack followed Amy through a small, carpeted living room and up a short flight of stairs. “Mom and Dad’s room was through there.” She pointed out the master bedroom at the end of the hall. “Mine and Justin’s rooms were across from each other, and Katie and Susan shared that one.”

  Zack studied her face. It must hurt like hell to wander through a house filled to bursting with memories of her little sister.

  “Want to see my room?” Amy asked with a flirtatious smile.

  He gasped in mock wonder. “I get to see Amy Evans’s room? You sure I’m worthy? Do I need to bribe Jessie to deliver a cake?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I tried to warn you I was a bitch before I moved to Toronto.”

  “Don’t call yourself names. You can’t have been that bad.”

  “Oh, I was. But if it makes you feel better, you were a total jerk before you met me.”

  “I was not!”

  “You once told me I’d be in prison for our twenty-year high school reunion and implied I was trailer trash in the very next breath.”

  “Well, you accused me of being a spoiled alcoholic and predicted I’d be living in a state-of-the-art rehab center.”

  “I said it would be state-of-the-art, though. At least I was sure you’d still be rich. Hey!” She squealed as he picked her up and tossed her onto the mattress.

  They digressed into a tickle fight and wound up snuggling on her childhood twin bed. Amy felt good against his side, all warm and soft with her silken hair draped over his arm.

  Zack gazed up at her cobweb-covered ceiling. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

  “You should see how I’m gonna deck out my prison cell.”

  “Who says I’ll visit you?”

  “You won’t. Peter’s going to be my cellmate. You’ll never want to visit in a million years.”

  He groaned and rolled away from her. He didn’t get far as the bed was so tiny. “Why’d you have to drag Peter into this? You could have said I’d be stuck in rehab.” She silenced him with a kiss and slipped out of bed.

  “Where you going?”

  “Bathroom. Be back in a second.”

  Zack took the opportunity to examine her room. It was tiny compared to his bedroom back home, but Amy had organized the furniture to allow for maximum floor space. Her twin bed was pushed into a corner with a narrow, oak bedside table tucked flush against its side. Her closet was a third the size of a normal wardrobe and overflowing with clothes from Amy’s previous life. He plucked garments at random and came up with a shiny black crop top sluttier than his wildest dreams and a miniskirt so short it might as well have been invisible.

  An envelope on the floor of her closet caught his eye. He picked it up and regarded it in disbelief. People still used snail mail? The envelope was addressed to Amy Travis from someone named Robert Travis. He frowned and checked the address. It matched the one for this house.

  “What are you doing?” Zack jolted at Amy’s reappearance. She snatched the envelope from his hand.

  “Did you change your last name at some point?” Was Amy’s complicated past always going to be a mystery to him?

  “I don’t think so.” Her brows drew together. “This is my address, though.” She tore open the envelope and skimmed the single sheet of paper. Her face paled.

  “Are you all right?” Zack reached for her hand. She dashed from the room. The paper fluttered to the carpet in her wake. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before plucking it off the floor. Amy was wrong. He was still a jerk. A good boyfriend would wait for her to explain in her own time. Zack shrugged and began to read.

  My dear, beloved daughter,

  I write you today with a heavy heart. Today you are fourteen years old. I can hardly believe it has been eight years since I’ve seen your beautiful face. I can only imagine what a wonderful young woman you are becoming. Please know my thoughts are with you on this day and all others. When I’ve served my time, I’ll find you again.

  Stay strong, my beloved Amy, and happy birthday.

  Love,

  Dad

  Zack wrinkled his forehead. The confusion spiral was making him dizzy. Amy had said her dad had ditched after Katie’s death, but this letter had been written around that time and it claimed he had been absent for eight years. Amy’s story was not adding up. And what had her father meant by I’ll find you when I’ve served my time?

  The sound of the toilet flushing jerked him into action. He hurried into the hall. Amy erupted from the bathroom and snatched the letter from his hand. He stared as she shredded it into dozens of tiny pieces. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? If not, it’s cool.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “What isn’t with you?”

  Amy flung the remains of the letter into her wastepaper basket. “My dad’s in prison. He got arrested when I was six. Susan is my half-sister.”

  Zack gaped, openmouthed. “Wow!” He cursed himself internally. Wow? That was the best he could do? Come on, Zack. Think!

  “I would have told you sooner, except I didn’t remember it until I read his letter.”

  “Huh?” He was getting good at these monosyllabic replies.

  “I have a disorder called dissociative amnesia. I force myself to forget traumatic events from my past. It’s probably why I don’t remember Damien.”

  Zack goggled at her. His girlfriend had a mental disorder, and her father was in prison? That was a boat load of crazy, even for her. He suppressed the urge to run for the hills. This was Amy. He loved her. She had a lot of baggage, but she was worth it. A thought snuck into his mind on a ripple of unease. Would it make her feel better to tell her what he and Peter had done to a classmate in fifth grade? It might help to show her he had crazy of his own. He dismissed the idea with a tightlipped jerk of his head. He and Peter were taking that secret to their graves.

  “You’re freaking out.” Amy hugged herself and backed away from him. She tossed a desperate look down the stairs. He could feel her walls going up.

  “No, no. I’m sorry.” He hugged her because he had no idea what else to do. “It’s just a lot to take in, is all. I’m good as long as you promise never to forget me.”

  She grimaced. “That was so corny, Zack.”

  “I know, but I’m serious. I never want to lose you.” He tightened his arms around her. It scared him how much he loved her.

  They hung out in her room until night had fallen, the darkness softly cloaking the little house in shadow. It was almost a relief to head downstairs and free Damien from Max duty. Zack was bursting with questions and the effort of holding them back. He had kept silent long enough for Amy to recover from the shock of finding the letter, but he was still trying to let it go. He had to stop prying into Amy’s life and content himself with whatever she chose to share. That was what he told himself as the questions and the wondering ate him up insid
e.

  “Why don’t you two get some sleep,” Amy suggested after a few low-key rounds of Crazy Eights. “I’ll watch him for a while.”

  “You just want your pistol back.” Damien smirked. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

  “I’m good. I slept in this morning.”

  “Okay.” Zack kissed her goodnight. “Wake me in a few hours, and I’ll take over.”

  Damien led the way upstairs. “I wonder which bed is the comfiest.”

  “Probably the master. You can have it if you want.” Did Damien know what Amy’s dad had done to land himself in prison? Zack opened his mouth to ask him. Damien scuttled for the master bedroom as if sensing the question and swiftly shut the door before Zack had uttered a syllable.

  Zack chose to sleep in Amy’s room. The pillow smelled of her hair, strawberries and warm vanilla sugar. The tension of the last few days blanketed him in exhaustion. He drifted into a peaceful dream, one where Alex had never escaped.

  When he next opened his eyes, he was staring down the barrel of a .44.

  Thirty-nine

  EARTH AND ROCKS flashed before Chris’s eyes in a dizzying black and brown blur. An unseen force was tugging him through the ground. Not over it but straight through it as if it were water. An invisible shield plowed on in front of him, blocking earthen debris and protecting him from harm.

  The force sucked him upward. He popped out of the ground like a cork on the ocean. Alex and Nova stood nearby looking perfectly composed, refreshed even. They had tunneled through the ground and come out on the other side without a single speck of dirt on them. Chris, too, was spotlessly clean.

  Nova rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”

  Words escaped him. He nodded, mute and in shock, his thoughts tumbling over one another like clothes in a dryer. How had they just tunneled through the earth? How had they not suffocated underneath solid concrete? Why was everyone acting as if this was no big deal?

  They were standing in an airplane hangar with a sleek, private jet resting majestically in front of them. His stomach clenched tight, his guts tangling with dread. He’d bet his family fortune Alex planned to fly to Vancouver in hopes of tracking down Zack and killing him in cold blood.