Arachne’s face flushed bright pink
A ripping noise sent the hairs rising on the back of Leo’s neck. He heard the ominous thump, thump, and crunch of heavy feet on glass.
“How touching,” Vrykos sneered. “Lesson number three.”
Leo whirled around, raising the sword in response.
“Arachne,” he breathed. “Remember. No matter what, I love you.”
Vrykos sprang forth, claws out, and Leo shouted as he swung the sword. A strong arm smacked into his chest and he flew across the sanctuary, falling to the floor in a heap. His collarbone and ribs throbbed. Broken. Fuck. He clambered for the hilt of the sword, feeling with his fingertips in vain.
“Leo!”
His heart stopped. No. He snapped his head up to see Monette and Eshe dashing through the front hall. He shouldn’t have told them to come.
“Run!” he hollered. “Leave! He’s too powerful . . .”
Monette skidded to the floor next to Leo and shoved the sword into his hands.
“You were right,” Monette said hurriedly. “On the beach with the fire. This is the sword.”
“I know . . .” he groaned in pain and then tilted his head toward Vrykos, who was hovering overhead, beating his powerful wings and laughing wickedly. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“The bastardling and another human? What fun!”
Without wavering, Monette pulled the short crescent moon wand with the silver tassel from her jacket pocket. “And this . . . is the wand.”
“What?”
Monette flicked the wand and the handle jutted out to the floor, five feet long like a staff with winding vines along the shaft.
“Take my hand.” Her stormy eyes met his amber. He grasped her arm and she hauled him up from the floor, still grasping his hand in hers.
“How precious!” Vrykos snickered. Then he roared as he flew forward.
Eshe motioned and Monette raised her wand, uttering words Leo was unfamiliar with. But the tingling warmth spread through his fingers, and the sword in his other hand began to glow, as did the sceptre. Dazzling silver-white flames erupted from the wand and struck Vrykos in the chest, holding him still in the air, immobilized.
Eshe carried a bell jar down the aisle like an altar boy until she reached Vrykos at the dais. She twisted her hand in the air like she was pulling a chord, and Vrykos yelled, cracking like thousands of bones shattering, echoing against the gray walls. Vrykos was reduced to his bat form, fluttering his wings wildly against the white flames licking against his fur. The crown fell and clattered unceremoniously to the floor.
Monette aimed the wand lower and Vrykos floated down. Eshe captured him in the bell jar and secured the lid.
The air was still and heavy. Leo stood, his chest heaving and body throbbing with pain.
“Ungh!”
“Arachne!” He dropped Monette’s hand and the sword as he sprang around the pews and to her side. Her spider legs and body were twisting into human legs, and her claws receded. Her hair shifted from black into rose gold curls over her shoulders, and her eyes blinked open. Violet. Alive.
He wrapped his arms around her, and then exclaimed as a jolt of pain ran through his collarbone and chest. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Arachne. That she was safe. That they were alive.
Sobs ripped through Arachne as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Leo . . . Leo . . .” she cried into his neck.
“It’s okay.” He rocked her back and forth. “It’s okay . . .”
“You’re hurt.” She bit into her wrist and offered her blood to him. He tentatively tasted it, salty and metallic, and immediately he felt his bones shift in his chest. The pain ebbed away until all he felt was numb.
He pulled off his jacket and threw it across the lower half of Arachne’s body, naked, since her spider abdomen had ripped through her pants during her transformation.
Eshe and Monette weaved their way through the rubble and debris. Eshe paused to gaze forlornly at Keres’ body, which laid on the floor, broken and bloodied. Vrykos pounded on the glass of the bell jar in Eshe’s hands, but the lid was secure, glowing with a light white aura. Leo helped Arachne to her feet as she held his jacket across her lower half. They stared at each other, incredulous.
“This place is a wreck!” Monette frowned at the crumbling sanctuary and shattered glass.
“As Saint-Germain says, that’s what insurance is for . . .” Arachne muttered.
Leo raised his eyebrows at her, and she sighed.
“All right. The church will receive a generous, anonymous donation in the morning.”
Monette glided over to the crown in the middle of the aisle. She tentatively picked it up, her eyes lighting up with wonder at the glowing stars.
“Are you ready for the coronation?” Eshe asked Arachne.
Arachne scanned the sanctuary, and her eyes rested on Keres.
“Yes,” she murmured. “But first, we need to lay the dead to rest.”
Chapter 31
Twilight basked the lake with hues of plum and rust. Saint-Germain shoved the boats off. He threw torches onto each of them, arching gracefully across the water, so the sky danced with sparks and flames as the boats glided off toward the center of the lake.
He turned slowly and addressed those who remained, grieving on the beach. The witches were absent, as they buried their own casualty in the graveyard across the city with their own rituals.
“We lost several valiant souls today. They gave their lives to defend hundreds of thousands of innocent people and the city we call home.”
Eshe held Leo’s hand. She stared up at Saint-Germain with tears brimming her eyes. Arachne rested her head on Leo’s opposite shoulder as she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes were set not on Saint-Germain, but on the blazing boats on the inky black water. Monette stood a few paces away, her hands clasped in front of her and her head hanging low.
“We will grieve forever, holding these individuals in our hearts until our own end. In the words of Emily Dickinson, ‘Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.’ The hope and strength our friends showed today will never be forgotten.
“The promise of life is that it is beautiful, and there is also suffering. Even in the darkest moments, if we only try to share the light, our suffering may be alleviated. We may see the beauty in the darkness. There is no light without night. No beauty without suffering. No life without death.” Saint-Germain faltered for a moment, and then he continued. “Let us share a few moments of silence as we remember the ultimate sacrifice our comrades made today.”
Leo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. October 30th was the longest day of his life. And it wasn’t nearly close to over. Nothing would make him happier than curling into bed with Arachne in the crook of his arm, warm and safe. All he could hope for stood on the beach . . . thankfully safe and alive.
“Thank you for your presence.” Saint-Germain nodded solemnly. Arachne wandered away, and Leo let her go. She needed time and space. But tonight, she wouldn’t quite have it. Eshe skipped away toward Saint-Germain. Leo set off toward the parked cars.
Monette paced next to Leo as he walked up the beach. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.”
She laughed weakly, and then sighed. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking . . .” he wavered, unsure. The stars twinkled above, forcing through the glare of the city lights beyond. “I’m thinking we need to have a family meeting.”
“Agreed.”
“First thing tomorrow morning.”
Monette nodded curtly. “No more lies.”
The participants filed in to sit on chairs set in rows in the gardens below. Leo waved nervously at Eshe as he stepped out onto the balcony with the sword in tow. Monette followed close behind, her hands grasped around the sceptre. It was midnight. The full moon shone down a brilliant
silver glow while a few dark clouds floated past, briefly obscuring the stars.
Saint-Germain stepped out next, followed by Arachne. The moon illuminated her plum purple floor length gown. The amethyst heart glittered above her breasts, accentuating the gentle curve of the sweetheart cut of her dress. She wore the crescent crown on her rose gold curls, which flowed freely over her shoulders and down her back. The thirteen stars followed her, floating overhead as she strolled forward to the center of the balcony. Everyone gazed up at her with anticipation.
“Friends and allies!” Saint-Germain swept his arms out with a flourish. “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate Arachne’s coronation. With this ceremony, the crown’s magic will bind with her, ushering in a new era of peace for New Orleans, the creatures of the night, and humanity!”
The small crowd below cheered and clapped. A few moments later, a ruby crescent began to eat at the edge of the moon. Everyone watched as the moon was bathed in a deep blood-red glow. At the apex, Monette took Leo’s hand and raised the sceptre. She repeated the incantation Eshe had provided, and the sword and sceptre began to glow with dark, swirling crimson smoke.
A beam of light flooded the gardens from the moon and it slowly narrowed, focusing on the crescent crown of stars atop Arachne’s temple. All three relics flashed with scarlet sparks and slowly dissipated as the eclipse waned.
“Arachne has been blessed by the blood moon eclipse!” Saint-Germain exclaimed. Everyone stood and applauded as she bowed her head and flashed a fanged grin. She led the way down the stairs, followed by Leo, Monette, Eshe, and Saint-Germain to the gardens below.
“Congratulations!” Bael shouted, shaking Arachne’s hand exuberantly.
Chio clasped her hands together, a wordless smile on her painted lips.
“Thank you,” Arachne breathed. Jazz music blared from the patio and torches were lit.
“Leo!” Eshe ran up to Leo and pounced. She hung on his arm playfully. “You’re so strong!”
“Not as strong as you.” He laughed as he lifted her. “But I’m also tired.”
“Leo?” she wondered as she hopped down.
“Yes, Eshe.”
“Can you take me trick-or-treating tomorrow night?”
“What?” He stared down at her, baffled.
“Ari says I’m too old, and she won’t take me anymore.” Eshe pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.
Leo knew he would be exhausted tomorrow. But he stared down into Eshe’s wide, pleading magenta eyes, and he couldn’t say no.
“I’ll take you.” He chuckled and then swung her up in his arms again. She giggled as he twirled her around and then set her back on the grass. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he whirled around with a grin.
Arachne swayed back and forth on her heels, meeting his gaze with a meek smile.
“May I have this dance?”
“Of course.” He took her in his arms and waltzed her across the patio to the swing of the music. His heart thrummed in his chest. It was over. For tonight, he could breathe. He could dance with the woman—the demon—he loved, in his arms.
“This is only the beginning,” she started as she peered up into his amber eyes.
“Why must you dash my dreams?” He laughed. “I was just grateful the night was almost over.”
“Sorry.” She smirked. Then she leaned in close and sighed. Aromas of honey and lavender wafted from her, and she brushed her lips against his cheek.
“What was that for?” He blushed. How could he still blush after all these kisses? All the touching?
“A thank you for everything I’ve put you through.”
“You said I started it anyway,” he chuckled. She reached a finger up and tentatively poked his dimple.
“And because . . .” She wavered for a moment. “Because I love you.”
Leo’s heart fluttered in his chest. He twirled Arachne, the skirt of her plum dress billowing around her. She laughed as he spun her around. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her sweet honey lips.
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Paradise was lost, but love found a way through the treacherous fires of hell. The Muses spectated on the coronation and dancers below. And they were pleased. Every Queen needs her King.
Unlike their brothers and sisters, the Muses had refused to leave Earth. How could they, when humans continued to create such treasures? With each invention, the Muses awed at human ingenuity. New instruments to play, new mediums to create. To this day, the Muses debated over who would claim dominion over film. For now, a truce stood between Melpomene and Thalia, goddesses of theatre. Yet Euterpe held an interest, and she kept her chips on the table. After all, film was emotionless without music.
“What an epic romance!” Erato sighed as she stroked her lyre, her eyelashes fluttering and a blush on her fair cheeks.
“You disregard the tragedy,” Melpomene scoffed. “The bloodshed. There’s more to come. This story does not end well for everyone.”
“Come now! Don’t be so drab,” Thalia laughed. Melpomene was always so morose.
“Yet you, sister, continue to blab.”
Clio glanced up from her scrolls of history with irritation. Couldn’t they keep quiet for once? But Terpsichore disregarded the tension as she traipsed across the cloud with a flourish.
“I love it when they dance!”
Euterpe enjoyed the dancing, too, and the swaying of bodies to lilting melodies. But there was still one matter which had not been attended to. Her hero still was not free to play music, and over the last year, she had missed hearing his songs. Rarely had he played, and this discouraged her.
“What are you doing, sister?” Urania demanded. Polyhymnia peeked over Urania’s shoulder curiously.
Euterpe tensed with embarrassment. Was it so wrong to meddle?
“That’s a vampire!” Clio protested. “What have you done?”
“I only inspired him to take a different path,” Euterpe muttered.
“Then he will surely die,” Melpomene said.
Euterpe didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. They all knew it was true, yet no one else spoke against her. They let the intervention slide. After all, he was under her dominion. And this was their city.
Thank you for reading Blood Moon!
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The adventure continues with Hunter Moon: Book 2 of the Crescent Crown Saga.
The hunter moon rises with the blood moon . . .
Following Arachne’s coronation, our heroes are hopeful they can bring peace to New Orleans. Questions about their heritage still haunt Leo and Monette, who confront their parents but soon learn dark family secrets which were best left hidden. Their choices and alignment soon cause a rift—will they choose the path of heaven and light, or the path of darkness and hell?
Monette catches the attention of the beautiful Evangeline. But this angel may actually be a devil in disguise . . . Meanwhile, Arachne struggles with her grief for Keres. As she stagnates, a secret society of demon slayers emerges to threaten everything they’ve built. Allies and enemies alike fall at the hands of these vengeful humans.
Now the hunters are the hunted, and our heroes must fight harder than ever before to save the ones they love . . .
Book Titles
Crescent Crown Saga
1. Blood Moon
2. Hunter Moon
3. Wolf Moon
4. Thunder Moon
5. Rose Moon
6. Snow Moon
7. Black Moon
Acknowledgements
Here, I finally get to express my deepest gratitude for everyone who made this book possib
le. Blood Moon is a work of passion. It took about a year to produce, but was inspired by a lifetime of experiences.
I send all my love to Daniel, who is my lifelong partner, alpha reader, and most ardent supporter. Thank you for lending me your strength and being my biggest cheerleader through the whole process. Thank you to my loyal family who stood by me through law school and now as I publish this book. Cheers to your patience and endless support!
I thank my witty mentor and friend, Charles, who inspired me to forge my own path, even and especially when it’s difficult. Merci ma chère amie, Natalie, who always encouraged me to dream. Thank you so much to my editor and proofreader Anna for truly perfecting this book. And last but not least, much gratitude to my development readers for their constructive critique and insight, including but not limited to Rachel E. Smith and Keelin Geery-Zink.
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
About the Author
Schuyler Windham is author of the Crescent Crown Saga. She is a policy attorney who received a juris doctor from Nebraska College of Law in international human rights and national security law. A musician and prolific songwriter, she plays banjo and sings in the band Frailin' Hearts. Spiders are naturally attracted to her, but she does not return their affection.
Blood Moon (A Louisiana Demontale): Book 1 of the Crescent Crown Saga Page 26