Black Moon (The Moonlight Trilogy) (8 page)

Chapter 8

New Moon

March—Present Day

W
illa grabbed her purse and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” came her dad’s voice from behind. “I thought you were staying for dinner.”

Willa clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to sigh. She turned, hand still on the doorknob. “I left my phone at the museum. I’ll be right back.”

Ethan Fairfield was nearly as tall as Simon, but lean and thin, like a sapling tree. He patted the side of his head, smoothing salt and pepper hair. “Okay, but hurry. It’s almost ready.”

Willa studied the man for a moment. As a little girl, she and her father had been inseparable. He’d spent every Saturday taking her to parks, museums, and the zoo. He’d listened intently as she talked excitedly about history facts she’d read. He had bought her books and had recorded TV shows he thought she’d like. She wasn’t sure exactly when they’d drifted apart, maybe high school as her life got busier; but with a twang in her heart she realized that she missed him. She longed to throw her arms around him and hug him tightly and have all the tension between them disappear.

Why can’t you be happy about this?
She wanted to ask him, but said, “Yeah. Right back.”

“Okay,” Ethan said skeptically, already turning away.

Willa scowled sadly at his back, biting back a few choice words.
I’m not sneaking off to consort with the devil, Dad, just to get my phone.
She yanked open the door, fresh cold air rushing into her face.
I’ve always been a good daughter. Never gotten into trouble. Done well at school. But suddenly, when I try to follow the true path of who I am, I’m a delinquent to him.

She looked back over her shoulder at the empty hall and then went out the door. Willa spent the few minutes from her house to the museum trying hard not to think about how things used to be.

“Solace? Hey, where are you?” Willa called as she pulled her set of museum keys from the lock and stepped into the dark, empty foyer. “Solace?”

“Hello, Willa! What are you doing back?” Solace appeared next to her.

“I left my phone. Have you seen it?” Willa dropped her purse to the floor and sat under one of the tall paned windows. The lights from the street poured in, casting a grid-patterned shadow on the tile floor. “Also, I’m hiding from dinner with my parents.” Solace sat next to her and held out her phone. “Thanks,” Willa said. “Were you reading my text messages again?”

Solace’s eyes widened. “I would never!” she said sarcastically. “Next time could you make sure they are a little more exciting?”

Willa laughed. “So sorry.”

Solace laughed and then turned to her, eyes shimmering in the gray light. “I’m glad you came back because I just had a weird experience.”

“What happened?”

The ghost’s eyes moved off, now distant and vague. “This picture appeared in my mind. I was leaning over a young woman in her bed—a very pretty girl, older than me, with red hair and green eyes. Her brow was sweaty, and in her arms she held a little bundle wrapped in blankets. I reached out”—the ghost reached her hand forward, imitating the movement—“pulled back the edge of a blanket and found a little baby. Beautiful baby. A girl, I think.” Solace sighed.

“Solace! That sounds like a memory. Do you think it was?” Willa’s heart pumped a little faster with the idea.

“I don’t dare hope, but . . . maybe.” Solace clasped her hands together in her lap.

Willa stared at her friend for a minute, the light cutting through her shadowy figure. “Red hair and green eyes. Sounds like Ruby or Amelia. Probably Amelia. She was about five years older than you, but there’s no record of Amelia having a baby.”

“I don’t know. It was just a brief flash.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

Solace studied her hands. “No, not really. A few times I’ve seen a flash of what I think is forest trees, a full moon.” A stiff pause, her figure almost flickering out of sight. “Pain. Sometimes there is a burst of pain, an echo, just here.” Her sheer fingers fluttered at her neck.

A chill snaked down Willa’s spine, and she remained quiet for a moment. What had happened to her best friend? “Solace, I . . .”

Solace’s eyes flashed up to her. “Do you think it means I’m close to crossing over? Having these maybe-memories?”

Willa blinked, surprised. “Maybe. There is no way to know. But either way, memories are good. Right?”

“I suppose.” She pursed her lips. “But I’d rather remember my life when I’m
there
and not still stuck here.”

Willa watched the ghost closely, studying the permanent sadness on her face. Quietly, she asked, “So you
want
to cross over?”

Solace smiled grimly. “Of course, I do, Willa. As much as I love you, I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t
live
like this.” She rolled her eyes at the word. “It’s wrong, unnatural.” She looked vacantly at the dark space of the foyer. “I can feel it all the time—a whispering tug from the Otherworld. It’s stronger lately, but still blocked somehow. I can’t answer it, can’t move toward it. I
need
to cross over, but I’m stuck. And that connection is a constant mockery.”

Solace’s eyes shimmered, almost as if blurred by tears. Willa leaned closer. She’d never heard Solace talk like this before. “I wish there was something I could do to help. I am a witch with the Power of Spirits, after all. You’d think there was something more to that than just seeing ghosts. Maybe one day I’ll find something that can help you.”

“Thank you, Willa. You are sweet.” She inhaled, shook her head. “Let’s talk about something else. Did you talk to Simon about faking it in training yesterday?”

Willa looked over at the crisscrossing shadows. Simon had obviously and purposely failed the second part of the test at the pool. At least it was obvious to her. To everyone else it seemed a huge relief. Because of that, she couldn’t really blame Simon, but something about it bothered her. Was he ashamed of himself? “Not yet, but it’s weird, right?”

“It’s a little weird. Simon has never struck me as one to pretend just to please others.”

“Exactly! I mean, we all pretend a little, hiding our true selves from the world, but that’s different.” She exhaled, rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t know. I guess it’s not that big of a deal. I just don’t understand why everything has gotten so complicated with his powers. Why he won’t talk to me or Rowan, make some effort to understand it.”

“I wonder if he’ll make it a habit—the faking.”

Willa shook her head. “I hope not,” she whispered. A rock of concern settled into the bottom of her stomach. “Solace, what’s happening? Why can’t we talk about this stuff? Soul mates are supposed to be close, to tell each other
everything.
But lately . . . I couldn’t even bring myself to ask him if he really had faked it.”

The floor under them shook violently. Willa instinctively reached out for Solace, but her hand met the cold floor. The window rattled overhead. Willa scrambled away from it, afraid it might shatter down on her.

“Willa! What’s happening?” Solace cried out.

Before Willa could answer, the quake had stopped. Chest heaving, heart pounding, she jumped to her feet, looked out the window. Nothing seemed seriously damaged; the power hadn’t even gone out. “An earthquake,” she answered in disbelief.

Solace joined her at the window. “I don’t think I like earthquakes.”

“Me neither.” Willa had never felt a quake before, and she hoped she never did again. “That was a really bizarre feeling. The floor should
not
move like that.”

“Not ever.”

It happened again. The window rattled, and the old building shuddered. Solace screamed as Willa dove to the ground. By the time she looked back at her ghost-friend the quake ended. “Whoa! What’s going on?”

Solace hovered, rubbing her hands nervously. “I know it can’t hurt me, but it still makes me nervous.”

Willa’s phone beeped from her purse. She crawled over, dug it out, and suddenly the weight in her stomach felt like a writhing ball of snakes. “It’s Charlotte. She says I need to get to the house right now, that the quakes are not natural.” Willa squinted at the message. “What does that mean?” Solace squeaked in protest. “Will you be okay, Solace?”

She frowned, eyes wide. “I guess so. But will
you?
If the quakes aren’t natural, does that mean Dark magic? Is it Rachel? Maybe she didn’t leave after all.”

“I don’t know.” Willa snatched her purse, rose to her feet. She looked at Solace, trembling and flickering in and out of focus. “I’ll come back and tell you what I find out. I’m sorry I have to go.”

“It’s okay. Go.” She waved toward the door. “Be safe, Willa!”

“I will.” She opened the door. “Bye,” she added with a des-
pondent expression.

The diner closed after the
fifth quake, and Simon hurried over to Plate’s Place.

The windows of the Victorian home glowed. The exterior of the house had been stripped of the peeling, rotting clapboards and prepped for new ones, ordered in the same aspen green Ruby originally had. It’d look amazing when completed, but right now, in the dark, the house looked like the skeleton of some great beast.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he stepped inside. The group gathered in the large kitchen, now almost finished. The recycled glass counters, sparkling white and green, and dark walnut cabinets made the house feel like it might actually be livable one day.

Simon crossed the room, fighting off the wave of uncertainty coming from his friends, and took his seat next to Willa at the long table.

Rowan, at the head of the table answered, “We don’t know. Something has unsettled the balance of the Powers. The frequent small earthquakes have made the animals and trees very nervous.”

“What ‘something’?” Simon said. “Do you mean Dark magic, not just a freak natural occurrence? Colorado actually gets a lot of small quakes.”

Rowan nodded. “Yes, we are quite certain this is Dark magic. The trees don’t whisper when it’s natural. Besides, Colorado doesn’t get this many quakes at once . . . nowhere does.”

Trees whispering?
Even after almost six months in the Covenant, things like that still sounded strange.

“Is this Rachel?” Willa asked, her hand growing cold in Simon’s.

Rowan shook his head. “I don’t know. Rain and Corbin tried another scrying spell a few minutes ago, and still nothing. I’m starting to wonder if someone or something is blocking us.”

“What do you mean? For someone to block us, they would have to
know
about us.” Willa asked.

“Exactly.” Rowan frowned.

“Another reason to suspect Rachel,” Simon said.

Rowan nodded, “Yes.”

Rain moved to the window that looked out onto the driveway on the side of the house. She was dressed in ripped black skinny jeans, combat boots, and an obscure punk band t-shirt. She asked, “Are we sure Archard is dead?”

Everyone turned, a weighted silence answering her.

Elliot said quietly, “We all saw him burn.” Simon flinched at the memories of Archard’s smoking, burning body. He groaned slightly and Willa looked over. He shook his head, gave her an
I’m okay
look.

Rain nodded, still looking out the window between the blind slats. “I know, but . . . it’s Archard. And since Rachel was his lackey, I just can’t help wondering. Are we
absolutely
sure?”

Rowan cleared his throat. “I checked into it.” Eyes moved back to him. Simon held his breath. There could be nothing worse than finding out Archard lived. Just the thought made his skin grow cold and his head ache. Rowan continued, “A group of hikers discovered the body about a week after the battle. It was identified as Archard and is now buried in his family’s mausoleum in Denver.”

Simon sighed and relaxed his shoulders. Willa squeezed his hand.

Rain stepped away from the window and nodded. “Good to know.” She smiled and then frowned, folded her inked arms. “But I guess that means this is a new threat. Or Rachel seeking revenge.”

Simon exhaled. “So what now? How do we stop it or fix it? Did the . . .
trees
give you any clue?”

Rowan shook his head. “No, only that there is Darkness nearby.”

Willa stiffened next to him.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” Simon said.

“No, there is something. There is a spell in Ruby’s grimoire that allows us to . . .
check up,
if you will, on the Powers. Wynter and I have prepared everything.”

“Form a circle,” Wynter instructed as she stood. The kitchen filled with the sound of chairs pushing back from the table and feet shuffling. The covens gathered in a tight circle behind the table.

Wynter held Ruby’s large, rust-colored grimoire in her arms. “Rowan . . .” At her word, Rowan pulled over a large clay basin filled with rich, black dirt and set it in the center of the circle. He reached into his pocket and produced a golf ball-sized green-yellow peridot. After pushing the stone halfway into the dirt, he sprinkled a handful of kosher salt over it.

Then the Luminary stood, stepped into his place in the circle. “Join hands,” he said quietly.

Simon took Willa and Rain’s hands. Whether it was Rachel or a new threat, Simon worried what it would mean for them, for him.
Are we facing another fight?
The memory of the three Dark witches sailing through the air filled his mind. His heart picked up speed.
No. Not again.
When he agreed to join the Covenant, he hadn’t considered that other Dark witches might rise against them, that there might be frequent fights. With Archard dead, the evil seemed at an end.
I was wrong. I should have thought this through more carefully.

Rowan cleared his throat. “Focus your energy on the stone and draw power from the earth. Repeat the spell after me.” He took a breath and closed his eyes.

Simon tried to push his thoughts aside as he squeezed his eyes shut, and called to the magic, focusing his mind. His hands grew hot, energy swirling inside him and on the air. The strength of the Covenant magic still surprised him. Each time they circled, it was like being connected to every plant, tree, rock, creature, and drop of water nearby, the sensations almost overwhelming, tingling along his nerves, threatening to awaken that stranger power inside him.