Black Moon (The Moonlight Trilogy) (10 page)

“I don’t think so. Why do you think you have to hide from them?”

“You’ve seen how nervous they get around me, how they’ve looked at me since the cave. I’m not supposed to be this good at everything. It creeps them out. Hell, it creeps
me
out.” A muscle twitched in his jaw; Willa touched his face.

“I know, but pretending isn’t going to solve the problem. So what if you are more powerful than any of us? That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Wynter, Rowan, and the others killed Dark witches that day, too. You don’t need to torture yourself.” He sat up abruptly, startling her. The room shook with another quake, and Willa wanted to yell at it for interrupting.

“But they
meant
to do it.” He swung his legs off the bed, put his head in his hands, elbows on knees. “I had no idea what I was doing. And that’s what scares me . . . and them. My whole life, I’ve been this freakin’ outcast. I thought I’d finally found somewhere I could be myself, somewhere I fit in. But it turns out I’m still the outcast.” He took an unstable breath. “Why can’t I just have one simple gift like the rest of you? Why do I always have to be the
freak?!”

Willa’s mouth hung open; she had no idea what to say to that. Maybe that was why she’d been avoiding this conversation—she really didn’t know how to help him. And that hurt in his eyes . . . how she hated that look! Why
couldn’t
he be a normal witch like the rest of them? What had made him so different? Was there a way to find out?
I have to find out.

Sitting up, she knee-walked over and knelt behind him, arms around his tense neck and shoulders. She kissed the side of his neck. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how.”

Simon turned to her, eyes tight with frustration. “I don’t know either.” His hand slipped onto her cheek, and he stretched his neck to kiss her lips. Willa sensed desperation in that one small kiss, so she answered it with a deeper one. Simon sighed, his breath tickling her lips. Swiftly, he shifted, maneuvering her to the bed and under his body. Hands in his hair, Willa met his passion with her own. If she couldn’t give him answers, she could give him comfort.

A quake shook the house, but neither of them noticed.

Simon woke from his cave
nightmare a little after three in the morning. Immediately he turned to check for Willa. The contented rise-and-fall of her chest immediately eased his anxiety. She wouldn’t normally be there, but they’d spent the night at Plate’s Place because of the quakes. Rowan and Wynter wanted everyone close—just in case. Hazel, Corbin, and Toby were camped out on couches; and even Cal and Darby, whose house was only a few blocks away, had stayed. It’d taken Willa fifteen minutes on the phone with her parents apologizing for missing dinner and convincing them it was okay for her to spend the night. That it was Covenant business and not some rebellion on her part.

Just a dream, just a dream,
Simon told himself.
The same stupid dream you’ve had for months.
After he managed to slow his heart rate and calm the jittery energy in his core, he turned on the TV, which sat on a small desk in the corner by the fireplace. The television was another gift from Wynter and Rowan.

Simon flipped through several channels, not really paying attention, hoping to distract himself from the fear with some brainless entertainment. A thought nagged at him, an itchy scab he tried to ignore. He’d picked at it before and then let it heal over, but again he wanted to scratch. Willa’s comment about this not being what she expected gave him enough reason to reopen the thought.

So he dropped the remote on the bed next to him and picked at the question.

What would happen if we left the Covenant?

It was a small thought, not yet a qualified idea, but one his logical mind couldn’t leave alone. Lately, he felt like he and Willa made the decision too quickly, floating on the high of defeating Archard and discovering the source of their supernatural abilities. Now, he wasn’t sure he’d make the same decision.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a witch or to learn magic; instead it was the Covenant, the obligation to be in the line of fire of Dark witches. Without conscious thought, he’d killed three of them already. How many more might he have to kill? The idea made him physically ill.
Did I sign up to be a killer?
The others had killed members of Archard’s covens without a second thought, just like Willa had said, but he couldn’t seem to move past his own transgressions.

But if they stayed, he knew—as hard as it was to hurt instead of heal—that he would do it to keep Willa safe.

So is it better in the long run to leave? Avoid the whole thing?

Simon rubbed his arm nervously. A chef on the TV expertly flipped the contents of a large skillet.

What would Willa say? The Covenant made her happy. She wasn’t accustomed to being alone like he was. She thrived on the camaraderie of being a part of the covens. She adored her home here in Twelve Acres and her work at the Museum. And although he’d grown to enjoy the company of the witches and a home in a small town, it’d be easy to slip back into the anonymity of independence.

Maybe his lifetime of broken relationships skewed his view. He expected it to fail; there was no previous evidence to support success. Everything good in his life had ended because of what he could do. Why would the Covenant be any different? What if they turned on him too? His exceptional abilities made him an alien even among other witches. Eventually they’d want him gone, or he’d get sick of pretending to fit in.

What would happen if we left the Covenant?

The Covenant bond might be for life, but it couldn’t stop him from taking Willa and walking away. If it kept her safe and kept him from killing anyone else . . .

Could I really do it? What would Willa say? Would she come?

Willa stirred in her sleep. “Another nightmare?” she mumbled sleepily.

He brushed the hair from her face.
If I need to leave will you come? I can’t go without you.
“Yeah, but I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Her pretty eyes fluttered open for a second and then closed.

He wondered if he should ask her. She’d said earlier that she hated how he kept bottling things up, not talking to her. “Willa, would you come with me if I needed to leave? Would you leave the Covenant?”

“Hmmm?” she said.

Simon exhaled. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Willa didn’t answer, already asleep. Simon turned off the TV, rolled onto his side, and gathered her warm body into his arms.

But sleep eluded him, the question set on repeat.

What would happen if we left the Covenant?

The next morning, no one
had answers.

“Not one thing?” Wynter asked, sitting on the couch in the front room, sipping tea. Willa sat next to her, nursing her own cup of hot mint tea, which helped take the edge off the chill in the morning air.

“Nothing,” Darby confirmed. “I called every one of my contacts. No one has heard anything about Dark witches stirring up trouble.”

Wynter looked around the room. “Same for all of you?” Everyone nodded and mumbled confirmation. She shook her head. “So strange.”

“So, what now?” Simon asked from his perch next to Willa on the arm of the couch.

“Well,” Rowan said, spreading his hands in a gesture of defeat, “we keep an eye to the sky and an ear to the ground. If it happens again, we can try repeating the spell. Maybe what happened last night was a fluke.”

Elliot, who had been looking at his phone during the conversation, leaned forward. “Holy moon!”

“What is it?” Char asked, leaning over to look at his phone.

Elliot frowned and then read from a news article. “‘Thirteen people have been reported missing in the areas within and surrounding Denver. There appears to be no discernible pattern to the disappearances and no evidence left at any of the last known locations. The Denver Police suspect foul play but are unable to point to the source of the disappearances. As of this morning, no bodies have been recovered, and no one has been located.’” He looked up, his brown skin somehow paler. “
Thirteen
people.”

Rowan inhaled sharply. “There were exactly thirteen quakes
last night.”

Willa’s skin prickled with cold, the hairs on her arm standing up. “What does it mean?”

Wynter shook her head. “Well, it’s hard to imagine, but . . . it may mean that whatever Dark magic was being performed last night required sacrifices.”

“Whoa! Like
human sacrifices?”
Simon asked, eyes wide.

Rowan rubbed his beard. “It’s an ancient practice—done away with centuries ago. Dark witches once used the blood, or worse, the death of others to control the magic in terrible ways. Sacrifices—human or animal—are dangerous, and unpredictable. And they are the worst kind of affront to the Powers of the Earth, which is why the practice was done away with—even among Dark witches.”

“Looks like we got a serious crazy running around,” Darby said.

“Rachel had blood on her forehead,” Simon said quietly, looking at the floor.

“What?” Wynter breathed.

“She had a red dot,” Simon pointed to the middle of his forehead, “right here when she attacked Willa, Char, and Elliot. I’m pretty sure it was blood. It didn’t look like a wound or spatter because there was a thumb print in it, as if put there on purpose.”

A weighted pause followed. “So maybe Archard used blood sacrifices,” Rowan thought out loud. “That could explain some of the powerful things he was able to do. But, even for him, that seems extreme.”

“Well, if he was, then maybe this
is
Rachel, trying to pick up where he left off,” Darby added.

“Does it say anything else, Elliot?” Rowan asked, nodding to the phone.

“No, not really. The police are clueless, and there were no witnesses to any of the disappearances.”

“Even more reason to suspect magic,” Cal offered. “People leave behind clues—witches don’t.”

The clock on the freshly-polished mantel chimed seven. “We gotta go, Willa,” Simon said, standing. “It feels weird to leave right now, but is there anything we can do? Or should we go to class?”

“Go,” Wynter said, waving her hand to the door. “We’ll monitor the situation and contact you if there is any reason to come back.”

Simon nodded and turned to Willa. “Let’s go.”

“Okay. I just need my bag.” She stood. “I’ll meet you at the car.” Taking the stairs two at a time, Willa rushed into their room, grabbed her purse, and then hurried back downstairs. They’d have to stop at her parent’s house for her backpack.

It felt so odd to think of the need to get her backpack and go sit through classes when thirteen people were missing and a Dark witch might be out there.

Her heart thudded uncomfortably as she came back down the stairs, another issue on her mind. Hesitating at the door, she turned to look back in the front room. An idea had come to her late last night, right before she fell asleep. Wynter and Rowan had been looking for an answer to Simon’s strange powers, but they weren’t trained historians. Willa knew how to research, how to look for small details, connections. She planned to take over, to read through their extensive collection of grimoires. She wanted to do it anyway, but now she had serious motivation. And then she’d also ask how to find other grimoires, other sources of information. She’d go anywhere and talk to anyone she had to. Simon needed answers, and that was something she was good at.

She stopped outside the front room. Her first class started in half an hour. She sighed in disappointment.

Now wasn’t the right time to ask, but she’d take the first opportunity she had.

Chapter 10

New Moon

April—Present Day

T
he earthquakes came again on the April new moon.

Willa was at home with her parents, sitting in the family room, reading yet another dusty grimoire when the first one hit.

She’d spent the last weeks poring over every grimoire in Wynter and Rowan’s collection. Then she’d driven all over the state looking for others. So far her search for the key to Simon’s multiple gifts had turned up nothing. She was, however, learning a lot about magic and witchcraft; but none of it immediately helpful, which frustrated her.

Her mom sat next to her on the couch, reading a novel she’d brought home today from the bookstore where she worked; her dad lounged in an arm chair watching the History Channel. Sarah wore yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt, her brown hair pulled into a messy bun at the base of her skull. Ethan wore black fleece sweats and a t-shirt, his favorite after-work attire, since his job as manager of the local grocery store required a shirt and tie.

Willa, also in yoga pants and a tank top and comfortable under a heavy blanket, looked up from the dull spellbook of an Earth witch to check the clock. Eight-forty-five. Simon had the closing shift tonight, but planned to stop by after—around ten o’clock. She sighed and turned back to the boring passage on growing parsley.

The house shook without warning.

A tremor, strong enough to shift the magazines on the coffee table but not buck the pictures off the walls, rattled the structure. Sarah instinctively reached out to touch Willa’s arm, and Willa reached back. The quake lasted only a few seconds, but Willa’s heart rate spiked.

When the house quieted, Sarah said breathlessly, “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

Willa exhaled, “Yeah, of course.”

Sarah huffed and leaned forward to stack the magazines, mumbling about needing to get an emergency storage together. A magazine in each hand, she stopped and turned back to Willa. “Last month—the quakes—you said something about magic.”

Willa frowned. Last time, she’d downplayed the seriousness of the situation, telling her parents the quakes were caused by magic, but it was nothing to worry about. Should she tell them about the whispers of the trees and the unbalanced Powers? The missing people? Should she tell them that the Covenant had been searching for a cause for a month and hadn’t found anything?

The memory of the tree bursting into flames filled her mind. If the quakes were back, did that mean more people were missing? And what was happening to them? Despite her dad’s distrust of Rowan and Wynter, and her mother’s certain worry, maybe it was time she let them in on more of what she knew.

Sarah dropped the magazines, narrowing her eyes. “Willa? What’s going on?”

At Sarah’s tone, Ethan looked over, also waiting for Willa’s response. She carefully closed the book and held it against her chest like a shield. After a breath, she said quietly, “It’s Dark magic.”

Her father’s eyes widened, and then he scoffed and turned away. Sarah, however, scooted closer. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not normal. We . . .”

“Of course, it’s not normal,” Ethan interrupted, still turned to the TV. “But it’s an earthquake. There’s nothing magical about that.”

Willa rolled her eyes. “Dad, come on! Why do you still insist on pretending magic doesn’t exist? Magic is the energy of everything around us. When the balance of that energy gets thrown off by Dark witches, bad things happen. Like those thirteen people who went missing.”

That got his attention. He turned, eyes pinched in anger. “What do you know about
that?”

“We think a Dark witch or coven took them to work some kind of spell, possibly killing them in the process.
That
spell is causing the quakes.”

Sarah gasped. “Oh no! Do you know who?”

“No. We’ve been looking for a month and can’t find anything.”

Ethan grunted, switched the channel. “That because it’s a load of crap.” He scoffed again, turning abruptly. “This whole thing is a big, sadistic joke. I mean, now our daughter is talking about missing people and murders. What kind of a life is that?” He pointed a judgmental finger at Willa. “You better not go around town telling people you know something about thirteen people missing. You’re gonna end up in trouble.”

Willa’s anger flashed hot. “Dad! This isn’t some kind of delusion or brainwashing. This is very real. You can’t keep—”

Sarah cut her off with a hand on her arm. “You’ve got to stop this, Ethan. This is our daughter’s
life—
it’s not a joke. It’s very serious. She could be in danger again. I know you don’t understand or want to understand the witch world, but if you’re not going to try, then keep your mouth
shut!”

Willa blinked. She’d never heard her mom talk that way to her dad. Certainly not raise her voice. Usually, Ethan took the authoritative stance, doing the managing as he was accustomed to. Willa watched him carefully, her hands balling into nervous fists, arms still locked around the grimoire. His face hardened a bit, but then his shoulders sagged.

“You never gave me a chance to understand, Sarah.” He clicked off the TV and stood. Willa blinked, shocked. Sarah’s face collapsed. For the first time, Willa realized her mother wasn’t only fighting to regain her daughter’s trust, but her husband’s as well.

“I’m sorry, Willa,” Ethan added quietly, not looking at either of them, “but I’ll never be okay with this.” With that he left the room, his steps sounding up the stairs.

Sarah exhaled slowly, her face pale, her shoulders hunched forward. She turned to Willa. “Sorry, honey. I’m working on him, but he’s got that Fairfield stubbornness and naïve practicality. He can’t see past his own ideas.” She shook her head and glared in the direction of the stairs. “And I hurt him badly,” she added, almost too quietly for Willa to hear.

Willa nodded, the back of her throat suddenly tight. “Maybe I should move out.” She hadn’t intended to say that, but the words spilled out before she could grab onto them.

Sarah blinked like Willa had slapped her.
“What?!
Why would you move out? You’re not to blame for what’s going on between your dad and me.”

“I know that, but Dad hates what I am,” she said, looking down at the grimoire, pulling it tighter against her chest.

Her mom touched her leg gently. “Willa, no. He’s just worried about his little girl. Yes, it’s hard for him, but he doesn’t
hate
anything about you. He just doesn’t understand it, and that scares him. And he doesn’t know how to handle being scared. The whole witch thing is as new to him as it is to you; but he’s not a witch, so it’s much harder for him to deal with.”

Willa looked up into her mom’s wide, worried face. “Mom . . . I think I should be on my own. I want to be. Maybe things could get better between all of us if there was a little distance.” She bit her bottom lip, pained by the look on her mom’s face, but needed to go on. She’d sat on the idea long enough. “There is a room already waiting at Plate’s Place. I want to be with the Covenant.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted in a look of shock and hurt. She opened her mouth, but didn’t get a chance to say anything. Another tremor shook the house. This time a vase fell over on the kitchen table, the water and flowers spilling out. Her mom swore under her breath as she jumped up to clean the mess.

Willa’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, a text from Wynter:
Come as soon as you can.
She gripped the phone and stood. “Mom, I gotta go.” Willa felt she should stay and talk about the bomb she’d just dropped, but the desire to flee from the impending fight was too strong.

Sarah looked up, her face tight with worry. “Can’t we talk some more? We need to talk about this.”

“Later, okay? I have to meet the Covenant. We have to stop this.” Willa moved toward the stairs. “But please think about what I said.”

“Okay,” her mom said stiffly. She turned back to mopping up the water. With her eyes on the mess, she said, “Be safe, Willa.”

Willa blinked at the strong tug of guilt the words caused: guilt that her strangeness had to worry and affect her parents so much and guilt that she wanted to get away from their worry. She watched her mom’s lowered head and the tense curve of her shoulders. “I will,” she mumbled and then slipped upstairs to change.

Willa hurried through the empty
streets to Ruby’s house. The weather still clung to winter, the air laced with the smell of snow. She pulled her scarf higher on her neck and picked up the pace.

Her coven-mates huddled in the kitchen, now almost completely renovated. She shut the door behind her and turned to the group. Willa felt instantly safer being with them, but their concerned, solemn looks slightly dampened the sensation.

Charlotte walked over to put her arm through Willa’s, guiding her to the group. “Where’s Simon?”

“His shift ends at ten.”

She nodded slowly, bit her bottom lip. “More people are missing.”

Willa’s breath caught in her chest. “How many?”

“Fourteen that we know of,” Char said solemnly. “It hasn’t been officially announced, but Cal knows someone at the Denver P.D.”

Willa sat at the table, dazed by the news and turned to look at Wynter. “It’s new moon again.”

“Yes,” Wynter said as she rubbed her right forearm where her scars were hidden under the long sleeve of her peasant top. “The power of the new moon can be used for many types of spells: starting a journey, renewal, healing. But it’s hard to say what a Dark witch would use it for, especially while employing blood sacrifices.”

Elliot came into the room carrying his laptop and sat next to Willa. “Well, this isn’t working like I hoped,” he announced, his face sour with disappointment.

“What are you doing?” Willa asked, looking at the complicated, scientific graphics on his screen.

“I was trying to pinpoint the location of the quakes. I thought if we found the point of origin, then we could go there and find whoever is responsible. But,” he made a few clicks with his mouse, “it’s really weird.”

“Weird how?” Rowan asked.

“The location seems to . . . float, even disappear at times. It’s like the instruments can’t really read these tremors. So all I can say is that they are happening somewhere within a one hundred mile radius.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Cal grunted. “Now even the ‘good old-fashioned way’ is failing us.”

The side door opened. Rain came in, shivering in a battered army jacket. She sighed loudly. “I tried the scrying spell again. Even tried to focus only on the quakes and not the magic, but still saw nothing. Only a gray cloud moving just under the surface of the water.”

“This is so bizarre,” Wynter said, rubbing at her temple. “Has anyone heard from friends? Any updates from other witches?”

No one had anything to offer.

By the time Simon arrived
at the house, the air was ripe with tension and frustration. He strolled in just as everyone stood up from the table. Willa hurried over. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“More people are missing, none of the spells are helping, and we can’t even use science to find out where the quakes are coming from. So we are splitting up the surrounding areas and driving around.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“See if we can spot anything suspicious or get closer to where the quakes are coming from.” She shrugged as if to say,
It’s pointless, but what else can we do?

Rowan stepped to the side door. “Simon, good, you’re here. You and Willa go up the east canyon. Whatever these witches are doing would need privacy. Maybe they’re in the mountains.”

Simon nodded. “Okay.”

“Text if you find anything.”

Out the door they went, pouring into the driveway and dispersing into the fleet of cars. Simon and Willa hurried back to the Jeep parked on the road in front of the house. Another quake shook the car as Simon started the engine.

“That’s seven,” Willa said warily, looking out the windshield.

“How many people this time?”

“Fourteen.” She looked at him with worried eyes. “Halfway through.”

Simon flipped the Jeep around and headed in the direction of the canyon.

Archard stood up from the
frigid, lumpy dirt and flexed his arms. His muscles responded with vigor. The cold night air pricked his perfected skin and moved through the clearing with crackling energy. “It’s done!” he hissed. Twenty-seven bodies lay buried in the dirt beneath his feet, the clearing a bloody mess.

Rachel’s eyes traveled up and down his body. “It’s incredible.” She touched a small rippled scar over his right eye—the last remaining trace of his former condition. “This spot right here won’t heal, but I think the scar suits you.”

He pulled a hand back through his full head of black hair. All the pain, the burning agony, had been worth it. Bartholomew’s healing spell had produced results that surprised even Archard. He locked his eyes on hers. “Now, the real work begins.”

“Willa?” A quiet knock sounded
on Willa’s bedroom door. She paused in reaching for her bedside lamp and turned. Her mom cracked open the door, putting her head in. “Can I
come in?”

The clock read twelve-o-three. She and Simon had driven around for two hours before the quakes stopped and the Covenant gave up the fruitless search. Willa’s parents had been in bed when she came quietly into the house, a flood of relief washing over her, knowing she’d avoided talking to her mom about what she’d said earlier about moving out. Tired and ready to get a few hours of sleep before her early class, the last thing she wanted was a strained conversation with her mom. But, she hadn’t escaped as cleanly as she thought.

Willa sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. She sighed and looked at her mom, “Yeah, of course.”

Sarah came in and shut the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, nervously wedging her hands between her knees. “How did things go tonight? Did you find the Dark witches?”

“No. Something is still preventing us from discovering what’s going on.” Willa yawned.

Sarah nodded slowly. “And did more people go missing?”