Black Moon (25 page)

“Give me the necklace,” Alaric articulates through gritted teeth. Like I’ll hand it to him that easily . . .

There’s a word bubbling in my throat, and all my energy is sacrificed to speak. “No.”

With a tic of his head, he says, “Fine. Have it your way.”

A part of my skull pops as if it’s being flattened, as if someone is taking a baseball bat and beating me with it. My mouth opens to emit a blood-curdling scream, but no sound is released. I can only slouch in misery. Of course, I knew this would happen. Ben and I are very much aware of every action Alaric and his friends will make. Every hit, every spell—all of it. This is just a dance to us, and soon we’ll finish the last steps.

On cue, Alaric is propelled off the sidewalk and into the street, where he’s hit by an oversized, extended-bed truck. Hit so hard, in fact, that the rear of the vehicle lifts into the air before falling to the ground, smashing against the pavement. Immediately, the piercing noise in my head ends.

Ben and I are slow to rise just as the Ancients dash down the steps of the Town Hall. From behind us, the Lowell’s, Conway’s, Randall’s, Watchers, and Followers storm the scene, with Maggie leading. We knew they’d show up, but we fake disbelief when they actually do. Mrs.
Rendall
sprints for Ben and me, casting a healing spell on the both of us. My cranium begins to reposition, patching itself up.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling. Her nose scrunches and eyes squint as she acknowledges my gratitude.

Cameron, Ethan, Jana, and Blake bypass the rest of us and meet the other Ancients head-on. Jana uses her fire ability to trap them in a large circle, while Blake sends sheets of ice across their bodies, freezing them. Most are overwhelmed, but not all. Several of the Ancients have easily sidestepped Jana and Blake’s skills, shaking off the ice and stepping through the fire. Cameron and Ethan, side by side with Jana and Blake, launch their powers. Cameron couples his gift with Blake’s, electrocuting those who are frozen solid. Ethan punches the ground, rippling the asphalt and sending shockwaves to the advancing Ancients. All four of their talents combined are enough to hold off the faction so we can progress with one Ancient
only
.

Alaric brushes off flecks of plastic and paint that exploded from the front end of the truck.

“Leave him to me,” says Maggie. Once again, she picks him up from a distance and chucks his body clear across the road.

Now that we’ve caused utter destruction in the middle of Hartford, we’ve gained an audience. I glance at Mr.
Rendall
, who ducks his head, closes his eyes, and raises his hands, gradually lowering them. “Sleep,” he whispers. As quickly as the word is formed, those viewing us from the sidewalks and cars fall into a coma-like state. All remain in the same position they were in before the slumber, and will remain that way until the damage is cleaned up.

Everyone joins the fight against the Ancients, save for Ben and me. We can’t exactly conjure flames and electricity, so we spare our verve for the remaining assignment. We watch both sides of the battle. At one point, Dad picks up a car—thankfully with nobody in it—and chucks it at an Ancient, who ducks, narrowly missing a wake-up call to the face. The combat radius has shrunk considerably since the beginning of the fight, so now those tussling with the rogue Ancients are closer than ever. Close enough they struggle hand to hand. Even tiny Jana continually receives whacks to the face and body. Mom knocks one Ancient off his feet by dropping low and swinging her leg against the back of his kneecaps, and Mr. and Mrs. Conway literally rip two Ancients apart.

Studying the progression made, I must say I’m shocked we all can work so well together. Three months ago, if somebody told me where I’d be and who I’d be working with, I would’ve laughed. Looking at the turmoil, I realize you can’t mess with fate. Ben and I were brought together for a reason, and that reason is this, right here, right now.
 

Ben and I hang back, waiting our turn. Maggie’s not through with Alaric just yet, and everybody else is working their magic against the Ancient mob. Cameron and Blake have electrocuted—and literally fried—two-thirds of the group. Bodies burst into flames, compliments of Jana, and, bit by bit, crumble to ashes. The remaining one-third receives complete devotion from the others, who delight in torturing their victims.

“You ready to do this?” Ben asks, trapping my fingers in his and squeezing.

“We don’t have a choice.”

Smiling for the first time in a
very
long time, Ben replies, “There is always a choice.”

“
Mmm
,” I murmur, lost in contemplation. “I guess you can say that, but I don’t see another way around this. We’re screwed if we don’t get rid of him.”

Ben’s eyes find his family and mine, finishing off the last of the Ancients. “I don’t know; they seem to be working pretty well together. Maybe we can stay after all.”

I scowl. “Don’t. Even.”

He chuckles. “All right, Princess. We’ll give it a shot.” Offering a nod toward Maggie, who has officially kicked the majority of Alaric’s ass, it’s time for us to leave our mark. The final mark.

Ben and I step forward as Maggie backs away. Everyone—the entire crew—ends movement to study us. The sun is warmer than before; its rays casting a radiant crown on the packs’ heads. There’s a certain ambiance of peace, finally. Alaric is sluggish getting up, so we take the opportunity to give our families one last smile, just in case we never see them again, and then, holding hands, we stop time. Alaric is merely a few feet away, but his face is frozen along with everything else.

Clearing his throat, Ben says, “So, this is it.”

“Yep.”

“No turning back now.”

“Nope.”

He exhales, impatient almost. “I’m ready.”

I grin, sensing a fresh current of adrenaline jolting through my veins. “Me too.”

Together, we advance. Ben touches Alaric’s shoulder to bring him into the present. At first, Alaric glances around, stupidly. Then, recognition allays his features.

“Just us, huh?” he presumes.

“Just us,” I confirm. “But we’re not finishing the battle here.”

Alaric’s eyebrows rise steeply. “Is that so?”

Let me speak, Candra lovely,
says
Daciana
. I resign my mind so she can take over.

“Alaric, dearest . . .” My voice box is used, but the pronunciation isn’t mine. “I
want
these two returning to our time, our past. They alone can change history, and the future.”

“Ah,
Daciana
, I thought I suppressed you so I’d never have to listen to your grating voice again,” says Alaric.

Daciana’s
emotions are my own. Alaric’s words sting momentarily, but she ignores them because she’s use to harsh confrontations with him. Through me,
Daciana
tightens her grip on Ben’s hand. He smiles.

“
Ulric
and I both wish it,” she continues, gaining courage. Funny. She didn’t seem like she needed courage last we spoke, as she was the epitome of a giant pillar. Strong and solid.
 

Alaric spits. “You and
Ulric
. I banished both of you for a reason—to be at peace. And I plan to remain so.”

“Well,” begins
Ulric
via Ben, “it has been mutually agreed upon by the four of us that we want peace as well, and, as long as you are alive, that cannot be so. Pray tell me, brother, would you have done the same if you were in my position?”

“What’s that?” Alaric constricts his eyes. “What have you planned?”

“Only this final effort for a truce,” says
Daciana
. “If you ever truly loved me as you once said, you will leave them be.” She opens a circular portal behind us. “Let them go, Alaric,” are her last words.

Ben and I return to our normal selves. As we take a few steps back toward the swirling matter, Ben says, “So, what’s it going to be?”

Alaric shakes his head. “Never!”

Ben and I share a calculating smirk, and then we leap toward the Doorway of Time. Alaric shrieks, “
Noooo
!” and jumps in after us. We throw our arms around his neck and body, holding on tightly, while I latch onto Alaric’s powers, rewinding the clock. Encircling us are vivid azures and violets, sparkling with starry dots. We’re falling through this material at a high rate of speed.

“Give me the necklace!” Alaric shouts, attempting to rip it from my body.

All three of us wrestle for two different things; Ben and me to save my locket, and Alaric to steal my power. This is the crucial part. Maggie can’t predict the past, obviously, so we knew we’d be on our own. The outcome of our future is based on our actions within this opening. Should we succeed, we can return to the past and put an end to Alaric’s mania, but if Alaric wins, we’ll lose him somewhere along the way, and he’ll have my power.

“Let. Go.” I grind my teeth in frustration. Alaric’s not giving up, and neither are we. The obstacle we face is passing through this portal and reaching the other side, alive. I can’t hold out for much longer; my nose already drips blood and my body feels as if it might spontaneously combust. We are all stretched thin. Our instructions are clear: drop Alaric somewhere along the way so he’s trapped in another time period. Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ben clutches Alaric’s fingers, tugging them away from my locket. I free myself from Alaric and hold onto Ben so strongly I think I might hurt him.

“Do it now,” I say, losing my focus. The outer corners of my vision are less clear, more obscure. “Ben!” I wail. Oh god, I can’t control it any longer.

In one final attempt, Ben shakes off Alaric, and we watch him disappear into the twisting nether surrounding us, gone forever.

Placing one hand on each of my cheeks, Ben mumbles something about—

We crash-land in a dark alley; me in a pile of spoiled food and trash, Ben in between the heaps of debris. I groan at the pain my butt just endured. Ben rises to his feet first, brushes his hands on the front of his jeans, and then helps me up. My body is weak, so he has to do most of the work.

Ripping off a piece of his shirt, he cleans up the blood from my upper lip. “There,” he says. “It’s gone.” He slides one arm around my waist, and I use him as a crutch.

Past the long stretch of the alleyway, peoples’ voices chatter, and the hubbub is so loud I can’t focus on a single conversation.

“Where are we?” I ask, voice croaky.

Ben shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“More importantly, what
era
are we in?”

He pulls me closer against him. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’ll figure everything out.”

We slog to the end of the lane. Every muscle in my body physically aches, and my stomach is weak from hunger. Food will be nice; someplace we can sit and eat in peace. No crazy family members. No Ancients. Just the two of us.

At the end of the passage, it doesn’t take me long to figure out why so many people are clamoring. The street is lined with tables supporting makeshift cloth roofs. Children dart across the road where horses pull wooden carts loaded with hay, food, or animals. Let’s not talk about the fact that this marketplace, filled with dozens of prospective sellers and buyers, is completely out of date.

“Ben . . . their clothes . . .”

“Uh huh,” is all he manages to murmur, at first. He follows with, “I don’t believe we’re in Kansas anymore, Princess. Or Connecticut. Whatever.”

Many of the citizens have stopped their duties and solely focused on us, whispering amongst each other. I glance at our clothes and compare it to theirs. No one, not a single soul, wears jeans or T-shirts or tennis shoes. The women dress in plain dresses and linen caps, the men sport long-sleeve tunics covering tights and square-toed shoes.