Blood Moon Page 21

  “I will be,” he said.

  A noise from outside the cave brought their heads up. Wynter scrambled into a seated position.

  “They’re back,” she breathed, panic already rising inside her. Simon moved himself slightly in front of her. Two bobbing yellow lights appeared in the entrance of the cave, moving toward them. Archard and Rachel stood over them, lanterns in hand. Behind them, all the other Dark witches hovered, wraiths in the blackness.

  Wynter’s stomach turned inside out.

  Archard grinned. “Good morning, Wynter.”

  His beady, icy eyes leered at her and she shrank away. Simon moved to block her more, which only made Archard’s smile grow. “Welcome to our little retreat. This place has quite a history. Some very interesting things happened here about eighty years ago, but it’s a long story and we simply don’t have time right now. We have much more important matters at hand.”

  With a nod from Archard, Rachel, with cat-like speed, snatched Wynter under the arms and dragged her away. Simon scrambled to his feet and tried to dive after her, but two large pairs of hands clamped onto him, holding him in place.

  “No! Leave her alone,” he cried.

  Archard stepped in front of Simon and looked into the boy’s face. “What is your name?”

  Simon glared down at the Dark witch, nearly a foot shorter and no match in physical strength.

  “Simon,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “Well, Simon. I don’t think you have any room to be making demands. In fact, I need to conduct a little experiment, so indulge me.” Archard started to turn and then paused. “Oh, and magic won’t work in here. The cave is enchanted against Light magic.”

  Wynter fought the urge to vomit and pass out. She watched Archard’s smooth movements. There was something different about him, something . . . shifted. He wasn’t like the others in his covens. He was more. Whatever the reason, it made her insides quake with fear.

  What are you going to do?

  Archard nodded and Rachel pushed Wynter toward the group of witches. A man secured one of her arms behind her back and took the other by the wrist. He forced her arm out from her body, parallel to the ground. She struggled in his grip, but was too weak.

  Wynter met Simon’s confused look. She tried to suppress the whimper building in her throat.

  Rachel slid a long, sharp knife from one of her boots and held it up in front of Wynter’s face. As Rachel stared at her, a half-cocked grin on her red lips, Wynter felt her spine of scars tingle. The memory of each and every pain flashed in her mind, fresh and stinging.

  No, please, no.

  Rachel, her platinum-blond hair glowing in the lantern light, waved the knife in front of Wynter’s face, taunting. Archard cleared his throat and Rachel’s eyes flashed annoyance. She quickly moved into action. She pressed the blade of the knife to Wynter’s bicep near her armpit and held it there.

  Wynter couldn’t draw breath, her lungs fluttered with the attempt, but the anticipation of pain stopped the air from flowing in or out.

  “Wynter!” Simon screamed. He bucked and pulled against the hands that held him, kicking and jerking, his face red and sweaty with the effort.

  “Leave her alone,” he yelled. “Please don’t hurt her.”

  Rachel and Archard grinned.

  Then Rachel increased the pressure of the blade and pulled down in one swift motion.

  Wynter screamed.

  Simon watched in alarm as bright red blood pulsed out of Wynter’s arm. She screamed once and then went limp in the man’s arms. He dropped her carelessly to the ground, backing away quickly to avoid the blood.

  “Let me go!” Simon shouted. “LET. ME. GO!” He used all the strength he could find to pull against the arms holding him back, dragging them forward a few steps.

  Archard leisurely crossed over, put his face in Simon’s. “See how the blood pulses from the wound? That’s her brachial artery. Her heart is pumping blood out of her body at an alarming rate. Soon, she will have lost too much to survive.”

  Simon knew that. Of course he knew that. And he also knew he could fix it, stop it.

  “Let me go!” he pleaded. “Let me help her!”

  Archard looked lazily at his fingernails.

  “But what could you possibly do?” He cocked his head, raised a devious eyebrow.

  Something in his tone made Simon stop fighting and look at him.

  “Ah, that’s right. I know what you can do, Simon.” He stepped out of the way and swept his arm toward Wynter. “I must see this for myself.”

  The hands released Simon, but for a brief moment he hesitated.

  What is this?

  It felt like he was walking into some kind of trap, but it didn’t matter. Wynter needed him. She would die if he didn’t use his power.

  Simon dove across the ground and knelt over Wynter’s unmoving, blood soaked form. He turned once to look at Archard, who watched with hungry, unblinking eyes. Simon swallowed and took Wynter’s freezing hand in his. Immediately, the blood stopped spurting and the skin closed itself. A few seconds later, Wynter’s eyes fluttered open.

  “It’s okay, Wynter. I’ve got you,” Simon whispered. He helped her sit up and put his arms protectively around her, tucking her against his chest.

  Archard crouched down in front of Simon, the fine leather of his shoes squeaking.

  “Very, very interesting, Simon. Not only that you can heal her, but you did it here,” Archard gestured to the cavern, “where I’ve blocked the use of Light magic with a powerful spell. I wonder what that says about your rare power.” Archard nodded and grinned. “Very interesting indeed.”

  Simon’s stomach clenched at the implication, but he didn’t have much time to think on it. Archard reached an open hand behind him and Rachel placed the dagger in his palm. He fingered the blade and looked at Wynter.

  “All better now, Wynter?”

  Wynter turned her face into Simon’s chest and whimpered like a scared child. Simon wanted to hit Archard, a solid punch right on his pointed chin.

  “Just amazing,” the Dark witch continued. “Really. I’ve never seen anything like it. I think I would like to see it again.” With a flinch of movement Achard pressed the dagger to Wynter’s back, directly over her right kidney. Simon hissed and tried to pull away. “Don’t move,” Archard commanded.

  Wynter sobbed into Simon’s chest.

  “What are you doing?” Simon spat.

  Archard held the dagger in place, a grin on his lips. “Well, it’s simple really. Either you agree to join my covens so that we might bind the Covenant, or . . .” he lowered his voice, “I will cut, burn, rip, and beat Wynter over and over again until you do agree. I know you will never let her die, so if you want to spare her all that pain . . .” He tilted his head to try to look at Wynter. “I don’t think she can take much more anyway. Do you? Holmes was a . . . vicious creature. So don’t belabor the decision.”

  When Simon didn’t immediately respond, Achard applied a little pressure to the knife. Wynter screamed and clawed at Simon.

  “Stop!” Simon yelled.

  “You agree then?”

  Simon’s mind was reeling. He flipped through all the possibilities, evaluating each as quickly as possible. The walls of the cave seemed to press in on him.

  What do I do?

  There was only one thing to do.

  “Yes,” Simon whispered, not looking up. Wynter closed her eyes.

  Archard smiled, tossing the dagger back to Rachel.

  “Excellent! I’m sorry to tell you that you’ll have to stay here, under guard, until the blood moon. Just a precaution in case you change your mind.” He stood and brushed at his suit. “I will have food, water, bedding, and some clean clothes brought in. No need to treat our new coven-mates like animals, right?”

  He spun on his heel and strutted away, the rest of the witches following. Just before he stepped out of site, he turned back.

  “Oh, and thank you for the
little demonstration. You’re going to make me immortal, Simon.”

  When all the Dark witches were gone, Simon released Wynter gently and stood. He grabbed the lantern left for them and brought it back to where Wynter sat, her head in her hands.

  “Oh, Simon. What have you done?”

  “I’ve bought us some time,” he said, keeping his voice as low as possible. “Nothing more.” He sat across from her, the lantern between them throwing light onto their faces.

  Wynter looked up. “What?”

  “Nothing happens until the full moon, right? We can either fight Archard for that time, or let him think we agree and use the time to find a way out. Or give the others time to find us.” He shrugged. “It was the only thing I could think of.” He averted his eyes. “I couldn’t let him hurt you again.”

  Wynter reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Thank you for that, Simon.”

  Simon nodded. He looked at the blood smeared down the right side of her dress, the sound of her scream echoing in his head. He hated that Archard had caused her pain just to see him use his healing power. It was sick, twisted. It was the first time someone had manipulated his gift. It was a shock and an eye opener.

  I’ll have to hide it. Keep it safe. More than I ever did before.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop that,” he nodded to the crimson stain, still wet and sticky.

  Wynter lifted her arm and examined where the cut had been. The skin was smooth, without even a scar.

  “Don’t be. You saved me.”

  Exhausted, she lay down and pillowed her head on her healed arm. “How did Archard know you are a Healer?”

  The image of Willa, Charlotte, and Elliot’s bodies on the kitchen floor popped into his mind. Willa’s blood all over the floor. He looked at the bottom of his boots and the dark stains inside the treads. He fought a wave of nausea.

  “The blond one, Rachel, I think, surprised us in the kitchen. She stabbed Willa, Charlotte, and Elliot.” He shook his head. Wynter gasped. “I’ve never seen someone move that fast. I barely had time to call out Willa’s name before all three of them were on the ground.” He exhaled and ran a hand back through his hair. “I healed them as I followed her out—just a brief touch. She stabbed them because of me, to get me to come with her.”

  “Oh, how awful! Poor Willa, Char, and Elliot. I’m glad you were there.” She frowned. “Archard saw them come out of the house to tell me you were taken. He and Rachel must have put two and two together, realizing you’d healed them.” Wynter closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Were they dead when you healed them, Simon?”

  Simon looked at her. “I don’t think so, but it was close. Why?”

  “Just curious about your powers—like everyone else.”

  Simon shifted to lie down as well, his hands under his head. “Do you think Archard thinks I can bring people back from the dead? Is that what he meant by that ‘you’re going to make me immortal’ crap?”

  “Not sure. It probably means he wants to keep you as his little pet to ensure that he can never be killed in the first place.”

  “Great.”

  Wynter yawned and they lapsed into silence.

  In the cold quiet of the cave, with Wynter asleep across from him, Simon finally allowed himself to think about Willa. He’d been keeping his thoughts far away from her because the pain was overwhelming. But now he let the image of her pale blue eyes, chestnut hair, and pink lips fill his mind. Her floral scent, like lavender and ginger, filled his nose, and he imagined his hand on her bare, silky skin. His heart ached, a clenching, twisting feeling. There was no worse torture than missing her, needing her. It crept along the hollows of his bones and tore at his soul.

  Willa, I’m trying to get back to you.

  The one and a half hour flight on Darby and Cal’s personal jet from Jackson to Denver had been agonizing, every minute a small torture. By the time they piled into the rented SUVs and started for Twelve Acres, Willa’s fingernails were nubs.

  She sat in the front seat of one of the cars, Rowan at the wheel. Char and Elliott were also there, the others following in the second car. The moonstone was alive in her hand, projecting a thick line of silver light out onto the road, bright enough even to see in the sunlight, showing the way.

  It was midday and the sun shone brightly, the air slightly cool and scented with the smell of fallen leaves. They knew they were bound for the mountains outside Twelve Acres—she’d seen that much as Amelia passed her the information—and part of her hated that the cave was so close to her quiet, small town. That it had always been there, lurking, holding the secret of Amelia’s death. Willa wished there’d been more time to talk to the ghost of Ruby’s granddaughter and learn the whole story.

  Rowan sped, and soon they were driving through town, the light from the moonstone leading them toward the mountains. They passed Ruby’s house and Willa’s jaw dropped when she saw the police line tape. “Looks like they found Holmes’s body,” Rowan said darkly, his eyes fixed on the place of his wife’s imprisonment.

  Willa nodded, watching the house for as long as she could, memories replaying. Then, she set her eyes forward, impatient to get to the cave. She prayed they would arrive in time. Several hours had passed since Simon and Wynter were taken. Her only consolation was that Archard needed them both alive to form his Covenant. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt them in the meantime.

  Halfway up the canyon the moonstone light turned down a dirt road leading back into the trees. Rowan parked. “We walk from here.” Willa got out of the car and tucked the moonstone in her pocket to zip her jacket against the frigid mountain air. The air was thick with the scent of pine trees and rain. Willa tilted her head to the sky to survey the gathering clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  I’m coming, Simon!

  Willa wondered why she couldn’t feel him yet, why he didn’t answer her calls to his mind. Horrific scenarios taunted her, but she tried to push them away. Maybe it’s just some kind of spell blocking our connection. She was certain that if it were something else, something worse, she’d be able to feel it.

  The witches gathered in a tight circle at the edge of the trees. Rowan looked around at each of them. “I won’t pretend this will be easy. Archard is using magic I’ve never seen before. Be cautious, but be aggressive.” He exhaled. “We must not leave survivors. I know we hold life sacred, but sometimes there is no other choice. To let them live, especially Archard, only invites further war between us. Understood?”

  Quiet nods offered consent. Willa bit her lower lip, a wave of nerves tightening her stomach. She didn’t know how to fight with the magic, but she’d do anything and everything she could to get Simon back. So, even if all she could do was to throw a few rocks, she’d do it—and throw them hard.

  “Willa?” Rowan said. “Lead the way. Go slow. I’ll hide our approach with magic. When you see the cave, stop so we can survey exactly what we’re up against.”

  She nodded and pulled the moonstone out of her pocket. The light snaked away from them and into the trees.

  Rachel, leaning against the railing of the cabin’s balcony, said, “You do know he’s just stalling?” She craned her head upwards to look at the gathering clouds.

  Archard admired the long line of her pale neck, followed it down her body.

  “Of course, he’s stalling,” he said. “That is why we’ll go back in a couple hours and hurt her again.”

  He took a sip from the tumbler in his hand.

  Rachel smiled, her red lips pressed together. “I still can’t believe he can heal like that. It’s unheard of.”

  Archard grunted in agreement. “Yes, it’s the stuff of legends. The real question is why he can do it. Something had to have happened. He’s no ordinary witch.”

  She shrugged. “Who cares why he can do it? Just think of the possibilities!” She ran a hand enticingly back through her long hair. As Archard took another sip from his drink, she crossed over to him.

&nbs
p; “Oh, believe me, my dear, I have thought of all the possibilities. He’s going to be a very valuable addition to my Covenant.”

  Rachel slipped her cat-like body into his lap and took the tumbler from his hand, knocking back the rest of the amber liquid. She set the glass aside and wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed a hand on her thigh as she lowered her lips to his ear. “Things are going very well for you, Luminary.”

  A little while later, a sudden noise tore Archard’s attention away from Rachel.

  “What was that?” she said, brushing hair out of her face. “Was it thunder?”

  They sat up in the bed and listened. Thunder tumbled over the cabin, but it was different than the noise they’d heard. Archard catapulted out of the bed and threw open the French doors onto the balcony. A mile into the trees, a fight was rumbling to life. The rain, now pouring out of the clouds, spun around the tops of the trees above the cave. The sky flashed with lightning and the light of fire bursts.

  “The cave!” Archard cried, charging back into the room, hunting for his clothes, angry heat erupting in his gut. He’d fortified the clearing and cave, but not with as strong of magic as he could have. He’d assumed there was no possible chance for the Light witches to find them.

  Arrogance!

  Rachel was already half dressed. “Do you think it’s them? How?”

  He clenched his jaw so tightly, sharp pains shot up into his head.

  Not possible!

  “Hurry,” he yelled, regretting his few minutes of pleasure.

  Chapter 29

  Waxing Crescent

  Present Day, October

  Willa moved her eyes over the thin, spindly trees; she was reminded once again of the dream she’d had. The sky coughed up a low rumble of thunder as she looked up at the ghostly clouds. Several fingers of lightning streaked across the clouds, like cracks in a mirror.

  She watched the clouds with growing apprehension.

  She wanted to run, to race through the trees like she had in her dream, but the moonstone trail moved slowly, sliding over the ground methodically, sniffing out the way like an enchanted bloodhound.