Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella (146 page)

“
I don’t know yet,” I said.

“
He obviously survived the shipwreck, since only the captain died.”

“
Right,” I said.

“
And he was transporting a treasure.”

“
Right again,” I said.

“
What kind of treasure would a warrior of the light have?” asked Allison. “I mean, isn’t he supposed to be above material wealth and all that?”

“
Maybe,” I said, and thought of the simple young man I’d met a few times now working in the Occult Room at Cal State Fullerton, a young man who wasn’t so young after all. A young man who had, quite remarkably, reversed my son’s vampirism, using the first of four powerful medallions.

Medallions he had shown me in a book. Medallions that were created, he’d said, to counter the effects of vampirism, although he had told me nothing more.

Allison had been following my train of thoughts, seeing my memory as I reviewed it.

“
Four medallions,” she said, commenting on the book Archibald had once shown me of the four golden discs.

“
Yes,” I said.

“
And you have had two of them?”

“
Yes.”

“
Aren’t these, like, rare?”

“
Well, there’s only four of them.”

“
And one of them is presently on you—”

“
In
me,” I corrected, and showed her the circular-shaped scar along my upper chest.

“
Gotcha. And easy on the vampire cleavage, Sam. Kinda gross.” She faked a shiver. “How did you get the first one?”

“
It was sort of hand-delivered to me.”

I gave her the image of the hunky, blond-haired vampire hunter who’d posed as a UPS deliveryman. She nodded. “And why did he deliver the medallion to you?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“
Sam, perhaps you are not seeing this, so let me spell it out for you: there are only four of these bad boys in the whole wide world.”

I waited. She waited.

“Well?” she asked, exasperated.

“
Well, what?”

She rolled her eyes and got up and stood in front of me. “Sam, somehow you are
attracting
these medallions.”

“
Pshaw
,” I said, blowing her off. “Only a coincidence.”

“
Is it, Sam? And now you are on an island where, quite possibly, one of the medallions is hidden.”

“
That’s a leap,” I said.

“
Is it? The same entity, the same warrior of the light, lost his treasure over a hundred years ago, a treasure that has never been found—”

“
Because it sank off the coast. It’s buried in muck.”

“
Or is it?” asked Allison. She was on a roll. “There were fourteen survivors, Sam. They obviously had life rafts of some sort. How easily could our friend Archibald Maximus—the same guy, mind you, who first showed you the book containing the four medallions—how easily could he have hidden his treasure here on this island?”

“
You’re crazy,” I said. “There’s no evidence of the treasure being hidden on the island.”

“
And there’s no evidence of it ever being found, either. Didn’t the professor say that divers have been looking for it for decades? Well, maybe they’re looking in the
wrong place
. Maybe they should be looking here, on this island—where, I might add, this entity friend of ours is compelling Tara and Edwin to dig endlessly.”

I opened my mouth to speak. There was a sort of insane logic to what she was saying.

“Insane?” she echoed, reading my thoughts.

“
Kinda crazy, kiddo,” I said. “But what makes you think Archibald even had one of the medallions?”

“
I don’t know, but it makes sense. A treasure, Sam. A treasure. The medallion would be considered treasure, wouldn’t it? Besides, what else would the entity have Edwin and Tara looking for? The family doesn’t exactly need a few crappy gold coins.”

“
I could use a few crappy gold coins.”

“
Me, too,” said Allison. “My point is this: there is a very good chance the third medallion is here, on this island.”

“
Then why lure me up here?”

“
Isn’t it obvious, Sam?”

“
No.”

“
The entity—and now me—thinks that you can help it find it.”

“
Now
that’s
crazy.”

“
Maybe, maybe not. Remember, Sam, you have possessed two prior medallions. By this point, it might be desperate.”

“
Fine. Then what does it want with my kids?”

And just as the question escaped my lips, I knew the answer. Allison, in tune with my own thoughts, gasped.

“One of the medallions is in you,” she said. “And the other medallion...”

“
Is in my son,” I said grimly.

“
Didn’t Archibald break down the other medallion into some sort of potion?”

I nodded, feeling so sick that I could vomit. A potion that my son drank. “Yes.”

“A medallion which reversed your son’s vampirism?” said Allison.

“
Mostly.”

“
So, in effect, one medallion is in you, and one is in him, and the third...”

“
Might just be on this island,” I said, and held my stomach, thinking of my son.

“
But why does he want the medallions?”

“
I don’t know.”

It was at that moment that a God-awful loud wolf-howl blasted through the blowing wind.

Allison jumped. “Jesus, was that a wolf?”

“
Yes,” I said, feeling some relief.

“
Here on the island? I thought there were no predators.”

“
Not of the mortal kind,” I said. “Get dressed.”

Chapter Forty-two

We found him in the back woods, dripping wet.

“Don’t say it, Sam,” said Kingsley.

“
Say what?” I asked innocently enough.

“
Anything about a wet dog.”

“
I would never say anything about you looking just like a wet dog caught out in the rain.”

Kingsley shook his great, shaggy head and looked over at Allison. Only someone oblivious would miss the way his eyes reflected amber. Damn beautiful eyes.

Yes, I used to enjoy staring into those eyes, especially on nights when my sister had the kids. I had just been falling in love with the big oaf, when he decided to unzip his fly at the wrong time.

Bastard.

“Don’t look at me that way, Sam,” he said.

“
What way?”

“
Like you want to take a chainsaw to my balls.”

Allison snorted. She was, I sensed, quite smitten with Kingsley Fulcrum. No surprise there. Hard to resist someone who stood six and a half feet tall, and had shoulders wide enough to see from outer space.

Down girl,
I said to her telepathically.

I think I’m in love.

No, you’re not.

To Kingsley, I said, “I’ll add that to my to-do list. Might teach you a lesson.”

“If it keeps you from hating me, then do it.”

“
You two are funny,” said Allison.

“
Who’s the broad?” asked Kingsley, jabbing a thick thumb her direction.

“
Broad?” she laughed. “Do people really talk that way?”

“
They do when they’re almost a hundred years old.”

“
Sam!” snapped Kingsley.

“
She knows everything, you big ape.”

“
I’ve never met a werewolf before,” said Allison, stepping around him. Kingsley, I noted, lifted his upper lip in what might have been an irritated snarl. “Are they always as big as you?” she asked.

“
Sam...” growled Kingsley. His wet hair hung below the collar of his soaking-wet jacket and jeans. He was also—I could hardly believe it—barefoot.

“
There are no secrets between Sam and I,” said Allison. “At least not many. We’re blood sisters, so to speak.”

Kingsley growled again and shook his head, just like a wet dog. Allison and I squealed and took cover.

“Oops, sorry,” he said, and I caught his impish grin.

“
You can trust her,” I said, wiping my face. “It’s
you
who I can’t trust.”

“
Low blow, Sam. I came all the way out here to help you, not take abuse.”

“
You deserve some abuse,” I said.

“
Fine,” he said. “Then are we done?”

“
Maybe,” I said. “And that reminds me...how did you get out here? No ferries or boats are out in this weather.”

“
I can still swim, Sam.”

“
Dog paddle?”

“
Ha-ha.”

“
Okay, I’m done,” I said, until his words hit me full force. “Jesus, did you really swim?”

“
Not all of us can fly, Sam.”

I recalled the churning waves, the white caps. The sea was angry. Kingsley, I knew, was no ordinary man. Or even an ordinary werewolf. Mortal or immortal, few could have made that swim, especially in these conditions.

“We need to get you dry,” I said.

“
No,” he said. “We need to keep you safe. What’s going on? Bring me up to speed.”

And so we did, there in the forest, while the big hulk of a man occasionally wrung out his hair, all while the treetops swayed violently. Finally, when we were done, he said, “I agree with Allison.”

She beamed.

I said, “What part?”

“All of it. The medallion must be here. It’s the only thing that makes sense. And I think we should beat the bastard to it.”

“
What do you mean?” I asked. I was pretty sure my eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“
Let’s find the medallion first.”

“
And then do what with it?” I asked.

“
We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

I opened my mouth to protest. I wasn’t as entirely convinced as my two friends—one of whom was, of course, an ex-boyfriend and just barely in the “friend” category. Still, I couldn’t think of a reason to protest. Hell, maybe they were right. Maybe I was, somehow, attached to the medallions.

If it’s even here on the island,
I thought.

It’s here,
thought Allison.
I’m sure of it. I’m psychic, too, remember?”

I sighed and nodded, and was about to suggest that we go back for shovels when Allison pointed out that there was probably equipment on the other side of the island. I nodded again, recalling my flight over the north end of the land mass. Yes, I had seen what appeared to be sheds and outbuildings. All abandoned. No doubt, Edwin and Tara kept their equipment in there, or nearby.

As I worked through this, thinking, I caught Kingsley’s amber stare. The brute wasn’t even shivering, but his heart was hurting. I could see it in his anguished eyes. Yeah, he missed me. He also should have thought about that before breaking my heart.

Still, he had come all the way out here for me. So, I reached out and ran a hand over his beefy shoulder and said, “Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you, Samantha Moon,” he said. “Anything.”

I nodded sadly—perhaps for what could have been—and the three of us headed down the pine needle-covered dirt road that cut through the heart of the island, and headed north.

On a fool’s run, no doubt.

Chapter Forty-three

The storm seemed to be growing stronger.

Wind shrieked. Trees bent. Rain rattled leaves everywhere. As we trekked north, I couldn’t help but think that Kingsley and Allison might be onto something. I was technically a carrier of one of the medallions, and my son...well, my son had
consumed
another medallion in a sort of potion concocted by one Archibald Maximus, who, as it turned out, was also quite the alchemist.