VoodooMoon (6 page)

When I woke my room was lit only by the moonlight and haze of crystal-lights from the street below that streamed through the spaces where the blanket I used as a window covering didn’t quite meet the window pane. Groggily, I mumbled a spot illumination spell so I could see the hands on the windup clock on the bedside table. It was a little after eight o’clock, about hour after the last evening bell. The city-wide bells rang several times a day to announce the approach of dawn, dusk, and their full arrival, and mid-day and mid-night.

Groaning, I threw the light blanket off and pushed up to sit on the edge of the bed. I’d actually slept a full eight hours. Of course, now I would be awake the rest of the night and I had to report for duty early in the morning. I’d scryed Sam when I got home and gave a verbal report, but I would have to type up a formal report on today’s activities with Ian as well. I would also have to put my name in queue for another mission.

I touched the crystal-lamp next to the clock and the room filled with a soft, bluish light. Different lamp crystals gave off a different color cast. I preferred blue. The room was small enough that the few furnishings, a narrow bed, a small bedside table, a small dresser with a mirror and one small wooden chair filled it to capacity.

A series of hooks on one wall kept my cloak, belts, and other clothing items neat and orderly when they weren’t flung across the chair or bed posts or, more often than not, scattered across the small expanse of floor like the mud caked garments I’d worn the night before. I got up and made my way to the dresser. I shuffled my feet to make a path through the clothes and realized I had been wrong. My dirty clothes were not on the floor at all.

Oh, Mother Earth bless River! My little sister had come in and gathered up my clothes to be taken to the laundress. I knew it had been River. She was ever mothering me and Anya, and while we both pretended not to like it, I secretly treasured my sister’s mother-hen ways.

I grabbed a house-dress from a hook on the wall and pulled it over my head. The blend of hemp and cotton and was soft and cool against my skin, flowing to just below my knees. It had once belonged to my mother and the emerald color had long since faded to a soft, pale green from years of wear and washing.

The moment I opened the bedroom door the mouthwatering scent of cooking vegetables and the soft sounds of female conversation wafted in.

Before my mother and I came to live here Pinky’s had also been an inn and all three upper floors had been separated into several small rooms with a larger main sitting room. My mother took out two walls to create a larger main area and leave three rooms. Pinky had continued to rent out the rooms in the lower floors. When my mother died he had moved from his small rooms on the second floor into the apartment to take care of me, then River and Anya when they came. Although he had needed the extra money, he’d eventually stopped renting out the rooms on the other floors claiming it wasn’t safe for the three of us. Now that we were all grown up, he still refused, though he’d moved down to the third floor years ago to give us our privacy.

I quietly moved down the hallway and found my sisters in the main area of our apartment. Anya was sitting at the large wooden table nestled in one side of the room with a bowl of what looked and smelled like River’s tasty vegetable stew and a huge hunk of bread. She was alternately shoveling food in her mouth and chatting with River who was standing at the counter washing dishes in a large metal tub.

For a moment I stood at the edge of the hallway and watched them. No one who took a look at the three of us side by side would be able to say we were sisters with our drastically different appearances. In a way they would be right, but they would also be dead wrong.

I was born Fiona Malaina Hernandez, daughter of Fredrick Hernandez and Malaina Murphy Hernandez. A few months after my mother’s death, on my ninth birthday I was fishing, illegally, just outside of the City Walls when I found River. The City Walls surround the entire city and cross the Cumberland River with metal-grid gates. During the day the gates are opened to allow merchants and trade ships in and out of the city. There are regular Guard Patrols, but a small child on a homemade raft who knows the patrols can easily slip in and out of the gates unnoticed. It was my favorite past time as a child, and the fishing near the gates was always good. That day I had slipped through the gates as usual and lounged on the bank in the shadow of the Wall my body and fishing line hidden from prying eyes by tall grass and trees.

The area had once been a part of the city but long ago been reclaimed by Mother Earth. It was peaceful and the perfect hideout for a sad kid. As I lay in the grass snacking on cold cornbread I heard a strange sound that sounded like a cat mewling. Ever the adventurer, I went to investigate. At the juncture where the river and wall met floating debris like leaves and tree limbs gathered along the banks. That day a small canoe had gotten trapped along with the other debris near the river bank. I didn’t see anyone inside, so thinking it had drifted loose from its mooring somewhere up river and was fair game to claim, I waded out to it. I grabbed the bow and pulled it over to the bank, congratulating myself on my new canoe.

I was shocked and more than a little horrified when I found the canoe wasn’t empty. There was a small, sleeping girl curled in the bottom of the boat. She had a mass of white hair and looked around three years old. There was a message inscribed in the bottom of the boat with charcoal. “Keep this child safe and take her to where she needs to be.”

Even at my young age I knew those words weren’t a message to whoever found the girl, but a spell. Words have power and whoever did it wanted to make sure it was strong and stuck around. As I stood there staring, the little girl woke up and stared back at me with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. She didn’t cry or look scared. She just smiled and crawled out of the boat and into my arms. I didn’t know who this little girl was or where she came from, but in that instant she became mine.

I took her home to Pinky. His suggestion that we take her to the city orphanage resulted in a tantrum from me, while the little girl hung on to my leg. After ten minutes of my tears Pinky couldn’t take it anymore and agreed to keep her. Though we learned she could talk, she didn’t know her name and couldn’t tell us where she came from. After several name suggestions, we decided on River.

A little over a year later River woke up one morning and insisted we go to the Public Market that day. Pinky had balked. He was a vampire after all. Going out in the day time meant wearing dark glasses and a cloak to protect his eyes and skin. Contrary to the myths popular in the Tech Age, vampires did not burst into flames in sunlight. They were, however, extremely sensitive and their skin would sunburn and blister after just minutes of exposure. Their eyes were also very sensitive to light. Most vampires avoided going out between dawn and sunset.

But, River had been adamant, and we had learned that if River dug her heels in about something, we were wise to listen. Though we didn’t know her exact age, we guessed she was around four by that time and she had already proven herself to be a seer. At her age she couldn’t articulate to us how she sometimes knew things, she just did. It had started soon after we got her. One day she got very upset when I was about to go downstairs and insisted I stay away from the stairs. None of us understood why she was so upset until Pinky leaned against the rail. The rail was old and had become loose and Pinky fell three stories. Luckily, being a vampire his broken leg and ribs had healed within a few hours. If it had been me to fall, I would have died. From that moment on, if she became upset and said to do or not to do something, Pinky and I listened.

So, that morning Pinky had donned his daytime protective gear and we had gone out to the market. But instead of the market itself, River had led us to the lots outside the market where travelling merchants and gypsy caravans camped. She led us right into the center of one caravan. We were getting strange looks and Pinky was in the process of apologizing for our rudeness in coming into their personal space when we heard a scream. We rounded a wagon to find a young girl about my own age with a tangled mass of dark red hair on her hands and knees, a spilled stew pot near her and an older woman standing over her holding a horsewhip. I screamed as loud as the girl when woman brought the whip down hard across her back.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry but were burned in my mind forever. Before I’d even seen him move Pinky had the whip in his hand and the woman was on her knees. Beneath the hood of his black cloak his normally pale blue eyes glowed with a brilliance as bright as any crystal-lamp I’d ever seen. He held his hand over the woman, but did not touch her. The woman opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. He spoke softly to the girl, asking her a series of questions.

She was Anya, the woman was her mother, and she was being beaten because she’d dropped the stew. Yes, she’d been beaten before, almost every day because she had been born a norm among a family of mages. The gypsy clan used their powers to make money, both legally and illegally. Because she had no powers she couldn’t contribute, therefore she was less than worthless to them.

Then Pinky had asked one more question and her answer had been, no, she didn’t want to stay there. And thus their family of three became four in that instant. Using the mental powers I hadn’t known he’d possessed, Pinky told the woman she had sent the girl away and she and her clan needed to leave within the hour because a patrol of City Guards knew of their illegal activities would be there soon. He told her that for their safety she would forget about the girl and the clan would never return to Nash.

As far as I know, they left that day and never returned. I never saw Pinky that angry or use his power of persuasion again. I hoped I never did.

Though we had all started out life in very different ways, the four of us became a family. Pinky, the immortal vampire who was over two centuries old but didn’t even look twenty-one, the age he’d been when he’d been turned, and three little girls. Anya, River and I officially became sisters one night when I was fourteen and getting ready to enter the Academy to join City Guard, as the four of us sat in the rooftop garden that River had started growing shortly after she came to live with us. She had a knack for growing things and in a few years she was already growing almost all of our food. We lounged under the moonlight before Pinky went down to the pub to work, like we did most nights.

Anya had been more nervous about me going to the academy than I was. She was afraid I’d leave and never come back. I remember Pinky gathering us all up, River on his lap and Anya and I on either side of him and holding us tight. “My girls, everything in life changes except one thing.”

“The moon?” River had asked in her sweet little voice.

Pinky kissed the tip of her nose and laughed. “Well, that too. But, I’m talking about family. Blood doesn’t make family and time and distance doesn’t break it. Like the moon, family will always be there, even when it’s too dark to see it. Keep strong and it will light your way home, wherever you are.”

After one long moment I declared, “We are sisters and that will never change, like the moon. We are the moon sisters.” My sisters tearily agreed with me, and that is who we became. Fiona, Anya, and River Moon. The Moon sisters.

Anya saw me standing in the shadows of the hallway. “Hey, sleepyhead, come join us before I have to go down to work.”

River turned, her usual smile brightening her heart-shaped face. “Oh, hi! I have some stew warming for you. You must have been exhausted. I didn’t leave for the market until almost mid-day and you still weren’t home.”

She’d said all this as she bustled around, filling a bowl with stew, cutting a hunk of bread, and pouring a cup of mint tea. She placed the food and drink in front of me as I sat down. I would have told her I could get it myself, but it would have hurt her feelings.

She sat down with only a cup of tea and talked with us as Anya and I ate. I knew from experience that she had likely eaten her dinner hours ago. Our eating and sleeping schedules hadn’t synced since the three of us had been kids.

River woke at or before dawn and went to bed a few hours after dusk. She tended her garden and sold the produce, herbs, and tea blends she made at the Public Market. Anya worked in the pub which meant being up all night. She never went to bed before dawn and woke sometime in the early evening. My schedule was unpredictable. Depending on the case I was working on I would come home for sleep and a meal whenever I had the chance. Sometimes I was gone on assignment for days or weeks at a time. We had learned just to flow around each other and spend time together whenever we got the chance.

It had been a couple of days since we had all been together at a meal time, so we took turns telling about what had been happening in our lives. River told about the new seeds she’d bought from a traveler from the far south across the Mississippi Sea and how her tomato plants were thriving.

Anya talked about how things were going in the pub. It had apparently been a bad week. Anya and Pinky were two peas in a pod most days, but there were two subjects where they butted heads: renting out rooms and Anya’s love life. We’d all tried to talk him into renting rooms for extra money, but Anya, her mind always on making the pub better and bringing in more profit, mentioned it to him at least once a month. That was usually when Pinky would ask her if she was ever going to get serious with a man.

Pinky, the king of stringless sexual affairs had little use for monogamy or serious relationships and only used the tactic just to get her off his back. He had no real interest in marrying her off, but it set Anya off. Of course, then she’d ask him if he was trying to get rid of her, and soft hearted Pinky would cave. There would be hugging and no more talk of room renting or serious dating for another month or so. They manipulated each other perfectly.