Black Moon (The Moonlight Trilogy) (23 page)

Chapter 28

Blessing Moon

July—Present Day

W
illa and Rowan rode in silence to the cave.

Willa had never thought she’d return to the place. It didn
’
t feel like a real place anymore—she wasn
’
t sure it ever had. Instead, it felt like somewhere she
’
d seen in a dream, intangible and elusive. It didn
’
t feel like a location one could drive to on a sunny summer day, especially the day after a blissful wedding.

It felt like a haunting.

Unease wriggled in her stomach. What if it didn
’
t work? What if Amelia wasn
’
t there? Or worse, what if she was but wouldn
’
t talk? But Amelia had helped once before, gone to great lengths to leave the place of her afterlife and come to Wyoming with news of Simon and Wynter. If not for Amelia . . . Willa shuddered at the thought.

The ghost was the only way Willa could think to get the whole story, if her theory
proved
right to begin with.

If Amelia wasn
’
t the old crone . . . If this doesn
’
t work . . .

Rowan turned off the main road, and the SUV bumped down the dirt lane that led into the forest and to the cave. Willa turned to him, and they exchanged a weighted look. She gripped the door handle, staring out the window, waiting to see the clearing where the cave resided.

When it came into view, Rowan stopped the SUV and turned off the engine. She felt like a wind-up toy, jittery and stiff. Her eyes scanned the landscape, heart beating uncomfortably.

“Look at this place,” she said. “It
’
s even more of a mess than when we left it.” Half the trees were bent, broken, or stripped bare, and the ground had been chewed into a mangled mess. Goosebumps rose on her arms. “What happened here?”

Staring out the window, Rowan muttered, “Nothing good.” He put his hand on the door handle. “Let
’
s see if we can find out.”

Willa squeezed her eyes shut, took a breath, and then got out of the car.

They crunched their way through the trees to the clearing. Neither of them stepped immediately out into the open area but instead hovered in the trees, staring at the black mouth of the cave, plagued by memories. Rowan
’
s expression was pained; Wynter had almost died here too. Also, if Archard
’
s fire hadn
’
t erupted, she would have been the one to take his life, just as she had Holmes
’s
. Wynter had killed to protect the covens, but she didn
’
t seem affected by it like Simon. What was the difference?

“Rowan, is Wynter okay?” Willa asked quietly. He turned to her. “I mean, she killed Holmes and almost Archard. How does she deal with it?”

Rowan looked down at the ground and folded his arms. “Death is a natural part of life and magic. Sometimes killing to protect that which is good is necessary but never easy. Wynter understands that delicate balance, but it still hurts her. She has moments when she questions, when she cries over the life she took. Killing, even when necessary, is not easy for a Light witch because taking a human life for
any
reason touches Darkness.” He looked up. “It
’
s a fine line; one that is not easy to walk.”

Willa nodded, understanding and also fearing. If killing always meant Darkness, what happened if a Light witch killed too much? She hugged herself, trying to fight the crawling feeling in her stomach and the chill inside the trees. Not only was the air cooler here near the cave but also heavy with something, like Marley
’
s invisible chains: there, but untouchable; wrong, but unavoidable.

Rowan added, “It
’
s easier for Wynter because she did it knowingly.”

She nodded.
Exactly right.

Rowan gave her a small smile and then looked back out at the mess of the clearing. She pushed her thoughts aside and turned back to the clearing too. Frowning, the Luminary dared a few steps forward. He knelt, placed a hand on the disturbed dirt, and closed his eyes. Willa watched, a trickle of nerves moving down her spine. Rowan flinched, stumbled back. “Rowan?” Willa gasped, reaching for him.

His normally rosy cheeks turned white under his beard. “Corpses,” he whispered.

“What?” Willa gripped his arm.

He met her eyes.
“The ground is full of dead bodies and soaked with blood.”

Willa
’
s limbs turned cold; her heart picked up speed. Looking with disgust at the dirt, she wanted to run far away. A wind raced through the trees, circling the clearing with the shushing sound of whispered words. She strained to hear, but the sounds fell off too soon, cut short. “Rowan?” she hissed.

He looked up into the canopy of leaves. “It
’
s the trees.” He listened. “They recognize us, and they speak of awful things. Sacrifices. All those bodies were
sacrificed!”

The words felt like a slap. “The quakes? The missing people? The whole time it was here!” Willa inhaled sharply. “Who? Who did it, Rowan?”

Rowan pressed his eyes closed as he put his hand on the trunk of the closest aspen. “The trees cannot say.” He exhaled in frustration. “Darkness has touched this place too many times.” He turned to her, eyes wide. “
Find Amelia. Quickly.
”

Willa glanced nervously at the ground, her stomach turning with thoughts of dead, rotting bodies. Her heart beat rapidly. She looked at the soot
stains
on the cave
’
s entrance, the marks of the flames that had killed Archard. The thought of
Rachel
’
s menacing figure standing outside the diner flashed in her head. She spun back around. “Rowan, do you think . . . ? Sun and moon, was this Archard?! Who else would use this place to make sacrifices?”

Rowan
’
s jaw clenched, he shook his head stiffly. “Find Amelia, Willa. We have work to do at home.”

With a deep breath, she stepped out into the clearing, fists tight at her sides. Her head spun in several different directions, fear and worry fighting for her attention; but she wasn
’
t here to worry about Archard being alive. She looked down at her wedding ring, thought of Simon and courage came in a small stream.

“Amelia?” she called, her voice weaker than she had hoped. She swallowed and tried again. “Amelia, are you here? I need to talk to you.”

A few birds answered in reply. A quick scan of the surrounding trees revealed nothing.

“Amelia, please. Do you remember me? You helped us last year, just before the blood moon.” Willa held her breath as long as she could, but still Amelia didn
’
t answer.

She turned, shrugged at Rowan. He furrowed his brow. “Try one more time,” he offered.

“Amelia, my name is Willa and this is Rowan, our Luminary. We live in your grandmother Ruby
’
s house. Right now it
’
s full of our Light Covenant. We are continuing your and Ruby
’
s legacy. But I need some answers to help Simon. Remember Simon?”

“Simon. The boy who was trapped in the cave with the woman with pretty hair.”

The voice came from the trees, drifting on the air to catch Willa
’
s ears. She gasped and tried to find Amelia.

“Yes, that
’
s right,” Willa pressed on, eyes searching for the ghost. “Simon
’
s powers are getting so strong that he has a hard time controlling them. I
’
m hoping you can help us understand how and why.”

“You
’
re the girl who loves him. True love, soul mates. Peter was my soul mate.” A pause. “I helped you, traveled to see you.” Amelia
’
s voice
still
sounded far away, echoing, as if she were talking through a tube.

“Yes. Can I ask you some questions?” When Amelia didn
’
t answer, Willa added, “We really need your help one more time. Please!”

“What do you want to know?” Willa nearly screamed when the words came out right next to her ear. Amelia
’
s shimmering form stood uncomfortably close, her tattered white nightgown billowing in an imaginary breeze. The ghost-witch
’
s intense eyes were the color of moss: green and alive. Her hair was a dark shade of auburn, almost the same as Ruby
’
s, and draped around her face.

Willa swallowed. “What did you mean when you said Simon was a part of you?”

Amelia looked away, and her face shifted out of focus. “
I don’
t talk about it. I don
’
t think about it.”

Willa bit her lip.
“I understand, but it will really help Simon.”

It was the right thing to say. Amelia
’
s eyes came back, narrowed but willing. “They took us from the house and brought us here. They broke our Binding, killed . . . my Peter . . . and the others. They wanted to form a Covenant.” She looked at the cave.

“Who took you? Who is ‘us?
’
”

“The Dark covens. They dragged me away from my baby, and Solace away from her mother.”

The ground under Willa seemed to ripple, and she struggled to take in air.

“Solace?” she breathed.

“Yes. So young, so innocent.” Amelia
’
s attention wandered away again, her eyes fixed on some imaginary point.

Willa had to know everything now. “What happened to her? To you?”

Amelia looked at Willa and then flicked her eyes to the cave. “Nothing good happens in there.”

When she said nothing more, Willa prompted. “Why did the Dark witches bring you here?”

Finally, Amelia brought her eyes to Willa
’
s. “A spell. They tried to do a spell that would force me to join their covens. They needed one more. A Water.”

Just like Archard.
“Did it work?”

She shook her head, her hair floating up as if in water. “No. It all went horribly wrong.” A shadow passed over Amelia
’s pale face.
“
Horribly
wrong. They killed Solace. Slit her throat”—her fingers trembled near her own throat—“and her
blood
spilled
onto my nightdress, my feet.” Amelia looked down at the memory of the stain, moving her fingers along her body, fluttering, imitating the blood.

Willa pressed a hand to her heart and wished she could sit down. “No,” she gasped.

“Yes. Her blood and death were to bind the spell, bind my possession by the Dark Luminary.”

Willa blinked back tears. “I . . . know her. I know Solace. We are friends.”

Amelia raised her eyebrows in question.

“Solace is a ghost at the Twelve Acres Museum. We
’
ve been friends for years.”

Amelia smiled, both happy and sad at once. “I
’
m glad. I wondered what had happened to her soul.
Poor Solace.
”

Willa exhaled. She knew she had to keep Amelia talking or risk losing her. She wanted to ask why Solace
’
s ghost wasn
’
t here with Amelia, but there were more important questions. Solemnly, she asked, “What did they do to you?”

Amelia
’
s smile instantly faded. “The spell failed. They made the fatal mistake of thinking they could change my free will.” She touched her neck, rubbing the skin. “Although the spell failed, it still ruined my life. It caged my magic, broke my soul. I spent the rest of my living days adrift. Not quite alive, not dead either.”

“I
’
m so sorry,” Willa whispered.

“My body never recovered from the effects of the spell, and I shriveled into a horrid, powerless mess. I spent years hiding here, avoiding people.” She moved her eyes to the cave. “I couldn
’
t go back to my family—what was left of them—and the Covenant witches all disappeared. I
’
m sure they thought me dead.”

“How many of your Covenant did the Dark witches kill?”

Amelia
’
s eyes dropped to the dirt. “Almost all of us. They killed my Peter and a few more before they came to Twelve Acres. I think Camille and Ronald got away. I have no idea what happened to my daughter, but Camille promised to look out for her, so I can hope.”

Willa shook her head, her stomach sick. “Again, I
’
m so sorry. That
’
s terrible.
” She had a snap of connection. “Wait, your daughter? What was her name?”

Amelia looked away, eyes wistful. “Lilly. The prettiest flower.”

The ground seemed to shift again. Lilly was Amelia
’
s daughter!
Camille, Solace’
s mother, had protected her and hidden her after the horrible mess with the Dark covens. “Oh, Amelia. Camille kept her safe. I read it in her grimoires.”

Amelia looked up at the sky. The briefest smile flitted on her mouth. “I failed them all.”

“Amelia, how did you die?”
Certain
she knew the answer,
Willa still
had to hear it.

The ghost
’
s mossy eyes looked at her. “Simon.” She blinked. “For years I lived as the walking dead, my body long passed its ability to live; and yet, because of the curse, I couldn
’
t die.
” She looked up at the trees. “Believe me, I tried everything.”

Willa shuddered. “How did you find Simon if you didn
’
t have magic?”

“I
’
m not sure, really. One night, a feeling grew inside me to walk. So I walked for three days until I came to the house. I could see the baby clearly in my mind, and I knew—
I knew
—that he could free me. Even before my Gift turned him into a True Healer, he had a powerful ability to heal. I needed to heal.”

Willa took a quiet step forward. “
Your
Gift? What do you mean? Last time I saw you, you said that Simon is a part of you and someone else.”