Midnight Moon (The Unbidden Magic Series) Page 7

  I gazed at the silver ball. Where was the woman? Was the voice inside the tiny silver moon? Inside my head?

  If so, it had also invaded the heads of the others. Revelle regained consciousness. Benny stood. Shane joined them and silently, they walked to Jeanette Yeager in ultra-slow motion, their movements jerky and zombie-like. Moving in lock step, the four Trimarks left the clearing.

  I rolled to my feet and started toward Junior.

  Chapter Ten

  “HALT!”

  I stopped mid-stride and turned toward the voice. She materialized slowly. Her silver cap festooned with tiny white flowers appearing first. Then, her flowing veil unfurled from the cap and formed itself into an oval to frame her face, with a small crescent moon centered in the middle of her forehead. Next came the shimmering silver scarves. For a moment, they floated gently in the night air and then began a series of intricate moves and became the gown adorning her body. The iridescent moon settled slowly onto her outstretched left hand. She held a golden apple in her right.

  Luminata. The Good Queen. And, she wasn’t a happy camper. She frowned at me and said, “Well?”

  I ran to her and executed an awkward curtsy. Was that the right etiquette for a queen? I was so happy to be alive, I’d gladly have thrown myself at her feet. “Queen Luminata,” I said. “You saved my life. Again. Can’t thank you enough. If you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of Junior.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she ordered. “Do you know what it cost me to come to Boundland and put a stop to your little altercation? If you weren’t my godchild and the next ruler of the Seelie Court, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  I decided to ignore the “next ruler” bit for now. Didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

  “Little altercation?” I repeated, attempting to keep the outrage from my tone. “Shane was about to kill me.”

  Luminata sighed, stirring up a warm breeze that lifted my hair and blew it back from my face. “Well, yes, there’s that. But what about me? Truly, I’m exhausted.” She pointed at the rusty tractor parked at the edge of the clearing. “Way too much iron in your world.” She clucked her tongue in irritation. “Don’t bother to thank me again. I’ll be seeing you in Boundless soon.”

  Seeing me in Boundless? Highly unlikely. “Well, actually . . .” I began. Before I could finish, she touched the moonstone with her pointer finger and disappeared.

  I put her strange comment on the back burner and ran to Junior. In the distance, I heard the sound of a car bouncing down the rutted dirt road that wound through the orchard. Had to be Revelle and his buddies. As the sound grew fainter, I breathed easier.

  Junior was barely conscious, his face covered with blood. I crouched beside him, afraid if I touched him, I’d hurt him worse. “They’re gone,” I said. “You’re safe now, Junior. I have to leave you alone for just a little bit while I run home and call 911. But, I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  “Emerson,” he whispered. “So sorry. Didn’t want you to come.”

  “Oh, shut up, Junior,” I teased. “Like I’d leave you here to die.”

  He lifted a hand and swiped at his blood-streaked face. “Can’t see.”

  Swear to God, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. Had Revelle made good on his threat to blind Junior? Throwing caution to the wind, I slipped an arm under his shoulders, lifted him slightly and used the hem of my shirt to wipe the blood from his face, his eyes. His beautiful gray eyes.

  He blinked and gave me a weak grin. “You look like an angel, Emerson. I know you’re not, though.”

  The breath whistled out of my body in a gust of relief and gratitude. Aside from the jagged cut on his left cheek and a bloody wound at his hairline, the rest of his face was untouched.

  I kissed his uninjured cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  Under the moon’s guiding light, I raced back to the trailer, made the call and hurried back to the clearing. While we waited for the ambulance to arrive, we agreed on the following story: Junior had just returned from his meeting in Seattle. He’d opened the trunk of his car to grab his briefcase and was struck on the back of the head. Knocked unconscious. When he woke up, he was in my uncle’s orchard, tied hand and foot. (All true, so far.)

  We decided to keep Revelle out of the scenario. Really, how can you explain something like Chris Revelle?

  Our version had three assailants. Two men and a woman. All dressed in dark clothing. They wanted money. Lots of it. If they didn’t get it, they’d vowed to kill Junior’s family.

  Why did Junior call me? I would act as the go-between since his mother spoke very little English. (Yeah, right. Like Mama Martinez would listen to anything I had to say.) And, being the stubborn person that I am, I had to see if the situation was as Junior described it before I contacted his family. I ran to the clearing.

  This is where the fictionalized version gets a little wacky. We couldn’t bring Luminata and her magic into the picture. So, what could possibly happen to make the three nasty kidnappers scamper away?

  The following is so not me, I almost choked when I had to say, “I knew Uncle Sid kept a pump-action shotgun in his truck, for coyotes. He never locks his truck. I grabbed the gun and went to the clearing. Then I hid behind a tree and yelled, ‘I’ve got a shotgun and I’m aiming right at your head, guy in the black hoody.’ I pulled back the slide to cock it. Remember The Terminator? Click. Click. Scary sound. I didn’t have to fire a shot. The three took off running.”

  It would have been a tad more believable if I said I’d actually fired the gun, but I knew law enforcement would eventually get involved. Whoever was investigating would be checking (a) to see if Uncle Sid had a shotgun in his truck and (b) if it had been recently fired. (a) He does. (b) I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

  It wasn’t until later that I had my second shock of the night, and it was a doozy.

  The moonstone was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  I MADE THE discovery driving home from the hospital, where I’d spent two hours answering a bajillion questions. When Junior’s family arrived, led by his mother, Maria Martinez, it was time for Allie to say, “Adios, amigos.”

  How could I have not noticed the moonstone was missing? In my defense, I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time. Shaking with fatigue and smeared with Junior’s blood, I took the Peacock Flats exit off the freeway. My plan was to swing by Kizzy’s house and see if the lights were on. My mind was flooded with images of Trimarks and how they loved hurting the people I cared about. What if another group had made a run at Kizzy and Sammie? Would Charlie be able to defend the two against some really bad faery mojo?

  As I approached Kizzy’s house, my hand automatically flew to the moonstone, my usual response to a stressful situation. When my fingers came up empty, I hit the brakes, pulled to the side of the road and came to a rolling stop. I flicked on the interior light and peered down the neck of my shirt, thinking the clasp had broken. Nothing there but a scantily filled size 34A bra and bare skin.

  I fought against rising panic. Take a deep breath and think, Allie, think. Okay, the moonstone saved my life at the clearing. What happened next? I called 911. The ambulance arrived. I drove to the hospital. Surely I’d have noticed if it had fallen off there. The moonstone was fairly good sized. I’d have heard it hit the floor.

  I grabbed a flashlight, scoured every inch of the car and came up empty-handed. Later, I’d look back at this moment and realize I’d been unwilling to face the obvious answer. Maybe it was shock settling in, clouding my judgment. Or, maybe I wasn’t yet ready to face a brand-new set of problems following on the heels of what had been a truly awful evening. Whatever the reason, the curtains in my mind remained tightly closed, convincing me there had to be a rational explanation for the missing moonstone.

  Cotton-mouthed with anxiety, I pulled into Kizzy’s driveway, relieved to see the glow of lamp light in the living room. Not wanting to scare Kizzy, I peeked in the rearview mirror and used my
pointer finger to wipe away a smudge of Junior’s blood on my cheek.

  Pointer finger. Luminata. Moonstone. “I’ll be seeing you in Boundless soon.”

  “Oh, crap,” I moaned. “Luminata has the moonstone.”

  I approached Kizzy’s porch door on dragging feet, my mind swirling with confusion. I hit the doorbell, and the door opened a crack. Charlie, gun in hand, peered through the opening. Kizzy stepped out from behind him and threw the door open.

  “Alfrieda, I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, yanking me into the entryway. “Is that blood on your shirt? Are you injured?”

  “Not my blood. Junior’s.” I followed her into the living room.

  Charlie closed and bolted the front door.

  “Where’s Sammie?” Kizzy said.

  It took a moment for her words to sink in. My mind was numb with fatigue, shock and worry. “Sammie?” I repeated. “She’s not here?”

  Kizzy led me to the sofa and pulled me down next to her. “She left a note and sneaked out of the house. Said she had something to take care of.”

  “I haven’t seen Sammie since last night.”

  Kizzy studied my face, her forehead crinkled with worry lines. “I’ve been calling all over the place looking for both of you. I thought she’d be with you.”

  A feeling of dread crept over me. Had Sammie been lured out of the house by Trimarks? Considering the events of the evening, there had to be a connection. I groaned and buried my face in my hands. It was simply too much. Trimarks. Junior. Luminata. Missing moonstone. No Sammie. Talk about piling on.

  Kizzy pulled me into her embrace and patted my back like I was a toddler experiencing an emotional meltdown. Actually, that was exactly how I felt.

  She said, “What’s going on, Alfrieda?”

  I pulled myself together and described my confrontation with Revelle and friends, ending with the appearance of Luminata. I paused and drew a shaky breath.

  “There’s more?” Kizzy asked.

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah, there’s more. The moonstone’s gone.”

  Kizzy gasped. “No! Revelle has it?”

  “No, not Revelle. I’m pretty sure Luminata took it in order to force me to go to Boundless.”

  Kizzy’s face paled. “But you can’t go to Boundless. You can’t stop time without the moonstone. You could be stuck there for days. Even years.”

  The truth of her words acted like a jolt of adrenaline, clearing the sludge from my tired brain. Kizzy was right. No matter which way I turned, I was screwed.

  I jerked free of her embrace, stood and stared down at her. “What choice do I have? The summer solstice is next week.”

  Kizzy’s eyes brimmed with tears. She shook her head in denial. “When I gave you the moonstone, I never dreamed it would come to this. I’m so sorry, Alfrieda.”

  I leaned over, dropped a kiss on her soft cheek and attempted a light tone. “Don’t be. I’m the chick who’s supposed to save the world from evil . . . right?” I tried for a chuckle, but it sounded more like a sob. I headed for the door. “I’ll call when I find Sammie.”

  Kizzy stood. “Take Charlie with you.”

  “No way. We’d both be worrying about you the whole time.”

  Charlie walked me to the car and watched until I pulled onto Peacock Flats Road. I tooted the horn, waved my thanks and headed for home. All I really wanted was for this horrible day to be over. I needed a shower and the sweet oblivion of sleep. But first, I had to locate my missing partner.

  This wasn’t the first time Sammie had gone missing. She’d been on her own, living on the streets for a long time. Even though she was grateful for a roof over her head, every now and then she’d grab her guitar, sneak out of the house and hitchhike to Vista Valley where she’d hang out and jam with other musicians. Almost always, she’d end up at my place, telling me how sorry she was. Because Kizzy had the kindest heart in the world, she always took Sammie back. I hoped that was the case tonight.

  I parked the car next to the trailer. Faye was still gone. No Sammie on the doorstep. No Sammie inside. (Picking locks was one of her skills.) No phone messages. I jumped in the shower, pulled out my couch bed and fell into a restless sleep haunted by dark-hooded monsters with blood-drenched hands.

  “ALLIE? YOU AWAKE? Get the door!”

  Faye’s voice, hoarse with sleep, yanked me from the land of blissful ignorance back into the real world.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Ten seconds of silence. Bang. Bang. Bang. Uncle Sid’s signature knock.

  I groaned and struggled to a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Be right there, Uncle Sid,” I called, attempting to connect the dots in my fuzzy brain. The events of last night slammed into me with the strength of a category five hurricane.

  I staggered to the door, opened it and peered out.

  Uncle Sid squinted up at me, his hands on his hips. He said, simply, “I found something.”

  Uncle Sid is a man of few words, and if you want to communicate with him, you have to ask a lot of questions. Unfortunately, I was tired. And crabby. Not to mention worried sick about the loss of the moonstone. In other words, I was so not in the mood to hold up my end of the conversation. But, Uncle Sid had always been good to Faye and me, so, the least I could do was play along.

  Even so, I couldn’t hold back an irritated sigh. “What did you find, Uncle Sid?”

  He pointed at an object leaning against the side of the trailer. “That.”

  I climbed down the cement block steps and took a closer look at the object of Uncle Sid’s morning visit. It was a guitar case. An extremely familiar guitar case, the sight of which made my heart kick up a notch. “Where exactly did you find it?”

  “Next to the cistern. Thought maybe it belonged to that friend of yours. The girl who plays the guitar and sings.”

  Though alarmed, I tried to hide it. Using Uncle Sid’s manner of speech, I said, “Sure looks like it.”

  I picked it up, set it on the spool table and opened it up. It did not contain a guitar, but it was far from empty. Nestled against the blue velvet interior was a feather. A red-tailed hawk feather.

  I suppressed a gasp, slammed the lid down and lied to Uncle Sid. “Geez, I don’t know why it would be by the cistern, but I’ll make sure Sammie gets this back. Thanks, Uncle Sid.”

  “No problem,” he said, lifting a hand in farewell.

  I sank down on the steps and closed my eyes, not wanting to believe what I knew to be true. The image of a mesmerized Sammie trying to wrest the lid off the cistern played through my mind. I should have known nothing would stop her. And the hawk feather? Somehow Sammie had made contact with Ryker. Hard telling what kind of story she’d invented to convince him to take her to Boundless. Remember lying, aka survival skills? That’s what Sammie did best.

  As stated earlier, three elements were required to stop evil from triumphing on the night of the summer solstice. The moonstone. Sammie. Me.

  Two of the three were now in Boundless.

  Well, crap.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE BATHROOM DOOR in Junior’s private hospital room flew open and crashed against the wall.

  “Allieeee!” squealed Maria Martinez.

  I barely had time to react to the hideous screech before Junior’s mother bounded toward me like a starving lioness after a crippled wildebeest. In case you haven’t figured it out, I was the wildebeest.

  I inhaled sharply, leaped away from Junior’s bed and scuttled backward until she pinned my body against the wall. In the non-terrorized part of my brain, I heard the echo of Junior’s weak chuckle and the words, “Easy, Emerson. She comes in peace.”

  Imagine my surprise when Señora Martinez threw her arms around my waist, pressed her cheek against my meager bosom and cried, “Gracias, gracias.”

  Oh my God! Instead of ripping out my jugular and wearing it as a necklace, she was thanking me. And then some. The stream of Spanish pouring from her mouth was way beyond my comprehension.

&nbs
p; Stunned, I patted her back, gazed at Junior and mouthed the words, What’s happening?

  Junior grinned at me. “My mother is expressing her gratitude. She says, if not for you, I would be dead. Oh, yeah. She also said you would bear me many fine sons.”

  “No, she didn’t say that,” I protested, trying to extricate myself from the tiny Hispanic woman who had a grip like a python.

  “Wanna bet?”

  Junior said a few words to his mother and the death grip loosened. She reached up and patted my cheek, releasing another flood of Spanish. I assumed she was still thanking me, so I responded, “De nada.”

  Big mistake. She beamed at me and said, “Hablas español?”

  “No, no,” I said, edging around her toward the foot of the bed.

  Which was scarier, Mama Martinez’s undying hatred or her smothering love? The jury was still out.

  “Mama was just leaving,” Junior said. “Right, Mama?”

  She lifted her hands and shrugged. Evidently it was news to her. But, leave she did after a lengthy pillow-fluffing, lip-smacking farewell to her only son.

  Junior lifted his arms, wincing in pain. “Get over here, Emerson. I need a hug from someone other than my mother.”

  I walked to the top of the bed and looked him over. He had two black eyes, a neat line of stitches on his partially shaved head and dilated pupils. I leaned close, afraid to touch him.

  He cupped my face in his hands and pulled me in until our foreheads touched. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me,” he murmured. “I never got a chance to thank you last night. For saving my life.”

  Somehow his thanking me pushed all my buttons. My eyes stung with hot tears. I tried to blink them back, but they spilled over, wetting both our cheeks. When I pulled free, I realized some of the tears belonged to Junior. I grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped both our faces.

  I gulped loudly, trying to swallow the big lump in my throat. “No thanks required. I should be apologizing to you. It was my fault you got hurt. Chris Revelle knows I care about you. That’s why he grabbed you.”