Black Moon (The Moonlight Trilogy) (6 page)

“I knew they’d buy that old dump.” He wheezed. “Do they have any idea I’m alive?”

“Not as far as I could tell.”

A slow, hideous grin spread on Archard’s red, lipless mouth. “Now, we just have to make sure we have all the parts of Bartholomew’s healing spell correct. The book is so deviously protected. Bartholomew was nothing short of genius in hiding his best spells.”

“We are closer. Only a few more lines to uncover, and then we will be ready.” Rachel pushed out of her chair, retrieved the large black tome from its table, and cracked it open. “Shall we work on it now, or do you need rest?”

Archard’s heart picked up speed. “No. Let’s get to work. The new moon approaches.”

Chapter 6

Waning Crescent

March—Present Day

T
hree days after Willa’s sighting of Rachel, the Covenant gave up their vigil. They’d performed dozens of spells, searched the whole of Twelve Acres, and even some of the surrounding towns. They found no sign—not even a hint—of Rachel’s whereabouts.

Exhausted and discouraged, the witches decided it was time to return to normal life. What else could they do? Simon and Willa had both missed a few shifts at the diner and a couple classes. If they didn’t get back to things soon, the consequences would be serious. The diner manager, Ron, had already threatened to fire them, and Simon had forgotten to turn in an important assignment in his anatomy class.

“I’ve got to go talk to this professor,” Simon said, standing outside Ruby’s house, holding Willa in his arms. The early March sky was brilliant blue and cloudless. He and Willa both wore heavy coats and scarves to hedge out the biting cold. “Maybe I can convince him to let me turn in that paper for half credit. Half is better than none.”

“I’m so sorry,” Willa said, shaking her head.

“Why? It’s not your fault I forgot what day it was.”

“Yes, it is. These last three days are
all
my fault. If I hadn’t thought I saw Rachel . . .” Willa frowned and looked away. Frustration and embarrassment pulsed out of her.

“Hey, no,” he put a finger under her chin, lifted her face. “You
did
see her. Why else would your pendant have burned? But she probably got scared off
because
you saw her. We had to make sure she wasn’t still around.”

Willa nodded, her eyes still pinched. “Yeah, I know. Okay, you go beg for a grade, and I’ll go to work and be extra nice to Ron so we don’t get fired.”

“Good plan.” Simon kissed her. “I’ll see you tonight for training.”

“Yep. I’ll be there.” She lifted to her toes and kissed him again. “Good luck.”

Simon waved as he drove away. In truth, he was much more upset about messing up on his anatomy paper than he let on. He couldn’t let his grades suffer because of the Covenant. Not again. It’d been hard enough keeping things on track last semester. He wanted to be a witch, but he didn’t want it to screw up the future he’d spent a lifetime planning.

He merged onto the freeway and turned down the heater.

Becoming a doctor was something he’d fixated on since his youth. He clearly remembered the moment he’d decided to go to medical school so he could carefully, discreetly, use his healing powers to help others.

He’d been ten years old, and his grandmother was dying of cancer.

His mother’s mother—Grandma Silvia as he knew her—was nearly as cold and unfeeling as her daughter. She’d barely acknowledged her grandson’s existence, and Simon had only seen her a handful of times. But in her final hours, compelled by a rare moment of human tenderness, his mom took him to say goodbye.

He could still smell the bitter scent of decay in her hospital room, the smell of her body being eaten alive by cancerous tumors. To his ten-year-old eyes, no creature had ever looked more hideous than his grandmother on that day. Her skin was ashen, as gray as thunderclouds, her hair gone, exposing a wrinkled, age-spotted scalp that she didn’t bother to cover anymore. Her eyebrows were gone as well, which made her face look like a skull.

Simon had wanted to turn from the room and run back to the car, but his mom pushed him forward, gripping his shoulders so tightly her nails left marks in his skin. Thinking back, Simon wondered if she’d been just as appalled and scared to approach the woman as he.

Grandma Silvia blinked her eyes open at the sound of her daughter’s greeting. “Silvia, it’s Cynthia. Simon is with me.”

The old woman grunted. “Did you bring that horrid husband, too?”

Cynthia frowned. “No. It’s just me and Simon.”

Black pupils ringed in nearly colorless irises, curtained with wrinkled, heavy lids, focused on Simon. Something registered in those eyes, and Simon sensed a shift in the dying woman’s emotions. “You’ve gotten big,” she whispered, followed up with a crackling-paper cough.

Simon didn’t know what to say, so he only nodded.

“Come closer, please. I can’t see you.”

The please caught his attention, a word he rarely heard from the adults in his life. Simon swallowed, took a step closer and tried not to gag at the smell. Her shriveled body occupied only a small portion of the hospital bed; her shoulders, hips, and knees made sharp mountains in the blankets covering her. She looked nothing like the picture on his mother’s bedroom mantel of a tall, stately woman with cool blue eyes and raven black hair. Even for someone so young, Simon understood the injustice and humiliation of death.

“Did she tell you I’m dying?” Silvia hissed and coughed again.

Simon nodded, “Yes.”

“Do you feel sorry for me?”

Simon furrowed his brows. He certainly felt sorry for her current state, but it was hard to feel any genuine remorse for a stranger. “I’m sorry if you’re in pain.”

She laughed the sound like tree branches snapping in half. “What do you know of pain?”

Simon lifted his chin. “Everything,” he said confidently. For every animal, every person he’d ever healed, he had first felt their pain. Only for half a second as his body connected to theirs, and then his magic would take over, pull away the pain. He was intimately familiar with pain.

“Simon!” his mother scolded, eyeing him with anger and contempt.

“Now, shut up, Cynthia. I’m talking to the boy,” Silvia cut in. Cynthia looked away, jaw set.

His grandmother looked back at him, her drooping eyes intense despite their withered state. “What do you mean?”

Simon looked at his mother and then back. “Nothing.”

Silvia stared hard at him for a few moments. The medical instruments attached to her body beeped and hissed in the silence. “Hmm. I see. Cynthia, I need some water. Go fetch it.”

Cynthia turned, looked at the full jug of water on the side table and then huffed out of the room.

“There now, she’s gone, Simon. You can tell me what you meant.”

Simon couldn’t remember his grandma ever speaking his name. He looked at her face, stifling a flinch.
Could I heal her?
he wondered. Could he take away so much damage, so much pain? He’d healed a few animals in terrible condition, but the worst he’d ever fixed on a person was a broken arm. Just the thought had warmth rising in his hands, as if his powers wanted to know too.

“I didn’t mean anything,” he told her.

“Ah, but you did. I can see something in your face right at this moment. Being close to death has made it quite easy for me to see people for what they truly are. And you, Simon, are not like the rest of us. Why?”

The heart monitor beeped steadily. Part of him wanted to confide in the dying woman. After all, who would she tell? The burden of his secrets could go to the grave with her. But what if his mother came back? Simon would feel the back of his father’s hand for sure. He looked at the door.

“Don’t worry about my weak-minded daughter,” Silvia said. “Tell a dying woman your secret, boy.”

Could she read his mind too? His hands were still flushed with heat. He looked down at her pasty, skeletal hand on top of the blankets.
All I have to do is touch her.
Simon’s body filled with the desire to test his abilities. He didn’t even think about the consequences of explaining such a miraculous recovery. He had to know.

He took a slow step forward and then thrust his hand out and put it on top of her cold, limp skin. A brief flash of her pain, her all-consuming pain, weakened his knees, and then the warmth traveled out of him and into her. Silvia’s eyes went wide, with a million questions inside them. “What?” she gasped and then fell into a fit of coughs.

The heart monitor wailed an alarm.

Recovering from her coughing, she looked him in the eyes; and all the bitterness melted away. “Thank you, Simon,” she whispered and then closed her eyes. The heart monitor let out a steady, sustained beep.

Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, all in white and blue clothes, shoving him aside. His mom came running in after them, a paper cup of water in her hand. Cynthia looked from her dead mother to her son, blinking quickly. She looked at his hands, and he hurried to put them behind his back. Understanding spread across her face like a shadow. She dropped the cup to the floor; Simon watched the water quickly run across the white tile.

Cynthia grabbed Simon by his arm and hauled him from the hospital.

Now, driving toward the University, Simon could still feel the anger in her grip, the pure hatred. That night as he’d sat in his room, waiting for his body to heal the welts from his father’s belt, he thought of his grandmother’s last words. She’d
thanked
him, and he didn’t know why. Why would she thank him for being unable to heal her, for bringing on her death?

The answer had come a short time later as he crawled into bed, his back healed and ready for sleep. She had thanked him because she
needed
to die, wanted to die. She didn’t need to be healed; she needed to be freed from her disgusting body.

He had realized that night that healing wasn’t always about fixing.

The next morning, he’d started researching medical schools.

Pulling into the parking lot at the University, Simon took a steadying breath. He rehearsed the words he would say to the professor, prepared to beg if he had to. He had to fix this and, as he walked up to the biology building, vowed not to mess up again, no matter what was going on with the Covenant.

You’ve got to be kidding
me!

Willa stood out on the end of a diving board at the indoor pool of the Twelve Acres Recreation Center,
blindfolded.
This was by far the weirdest thing she’d had to do for training so far.

The board gave and bounced with her slightest movement, so she tried to stay as still as possible. With her eyes covered in the black silk blindfold, it felt like the board was only the width of a balance beam, as high as those Olympic platforms. The smell of chlorine burned her nose.

“All right, Willa,” Rowan called out, his voice echoing in the pool area. “We’re ready to begin.” This meant they had enchanted all the windows and doors to the pool, which kept out unwanted guests and made it look like the group was just enjoying a private pool party to any who might look in the windows.

Willa shifted her feet; and the board bounced slightly, bringing her heart into her throat.
Some party!
She waited for the board to stop moving. She didn’t like the idea of falling from the fifteen-foot board into the water below, blindfolded and fully clothed. Of course, it had to be the highest diving board, not the ones only a few feet off the water. She’d only gone off this board once in her whole life—on a dare by her dad—and it’d scared her to death.

Rowan went on. “This is the first in a series of difficult exercises that will prepare you for the challenge. This exercise tests your psychic awareness, your instincts, and your ability to react to threats you can’t see. You must use magic to feel out what comes at you. You may use the power of Water or Air to defend yourself. Three consecutive defenses without falling counts as a completed exercise. If you fall off the board, we start over.”

“Sun and moon,” Willa mumbled to herself. She felt wholly unprepared and as nervous as she’d ever been in training. This was the first time they’d ventured beyond the back yard of Plate’s Place, and, although she’d spent plenty of summer days at this pool, it felt unsettlingly strange and hostile now.

“Are you ready, Willa? Any questions?”

“Can I skip this?” she asked sarcastically. Everyone laughed. She pictured the blue water below.
Why do I always have to go first?
“I’m ready,” she said as loud and clear as she could muster.

“Okay, focus your mind and your magic,” Rowan
instructed.

Willa took a deep breath, slightly bent her knees, and lifted her hands in front of her. Her heart thrummed in her throat, her mouth dry. She exhaled.
Focus. Feel.
Heat stirred around her as the magic answered her call. She thought how easy this would be for Simon, who practically had psychic x-ray vision because of his powerful Mind gift. Her skills only included having crazy dreams and seeing ghosts—neither of which could help her right now.
But I have magic inside me. Come on! Focus. Feel.

The pool grew quiet except for her ragged breathing and the hum of a filter. She tried to reach out with the magic to feel for the things around her. She knew the spectator stairs were to her left, the other diving boards to her right, and, of course, the very deep water was directly below. Her coven-mates had been standing on the opposite side of the pool. Were they still there?

Willa focused and felt a tremor of response. Someone was moving.

A second later a burst of air hit her, knocking her easily from the board. She fell, tumbling, and splashed into the water. She clawed at the blindfold, kicked her legs. Blinking and sputtering, she struggled to swim to the surface. Finally, lungs painfully tight, she came up. Simon knelt at the side of the pool, hand out. She swam to him, and he lifted her out of the pool, setting her on the deck.

“Are you okay?” He searched her face as she coughed up more water.

“I guess,” she muttered. Embarrassed and shaken, Willa got to her feet. Simon held her arm for support. Rowan stepped close.

“Let’s try again,” he said.

Willa resisted the urge to scowl at him and headed back to the ladder leading up to the springboard. Looking up at the rungs, she almost couldn’t talk her legs into moving.
Come on. Up! You can do this.
So, up the ladder and out onto the board she went. She pulled the dripping blindfold into place. Her jeans and long sleeve Henley shirt felt like lead. She wriggled her right toes, realizing for the first time that one of her Tiffany blue Converse shoes was still somewhere in the pool.
Great!

“Okay, Willa, here we go,” Rowan yelled.