Midnight Moon (The Unbidden Magic Series) Read online

  Junior shook his head in denial and then groaned in pain. “Damn! I keep forgetting I can’t do that.”

  Junior had a severe concussion, assorted lacerations, a ruptured spleen and broken ribs, thanks to Shane Boldt’s knife and Chris Revelle’s wooden club.

  “I should go,” I said. “You need to rest.”

  “No,” Junior said.

  He reached for my hand. “I need to tell you something. It’s important, so listen up.”

  “Okay.”

  “They’re gonna make me stay here for a while. Which means I won’t be with you at the summer solstice.”

  I nodded. Part of me was relieved. Being mortal, Junior would be in grave danger wherever Trimarks gathered. I’d told him nothing about Sammie and the missing moonstone. Or my plans for the rest of the day, which included climbing into a slimy cistern. Some things were better left unsaid.

  “So,” he continued. “I called the half-demon kid and he’s going instead of me.”

  Swear to God, my mouth literally dropped open. That’s how shocked I was. His comment was so not Junior, my brain could barely process it. He was referring to Beck Bradford, my former boyfriend. Somehow, Junior could never call Beck by his name. He always called him the half-demon kid. And, the Junior I knew would never, I mean never, phone Beck Bradford and admit he couldn’t take care of Allie all by himself.

  Not that I needed anyone to take care of me. But, no matter how many times I said, “Hey, I don’t need a bodyguard,” Junior and Beck never got the message.

  Before I could stop myself, I automatically corrected, “You know his name is Beck.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Junior said. “Anyway, he’s going with you.”

  “Not necessary,” I said, reverting to my default setting as an independent woman who doesn’t need a man to save her from the bad, bad men.

  Junior gave me his mean face. “Necessary. The kid’s going.”

  I didn’t want to get into a huge fight with Junior, what with him being at half speed, so I clamped my mouth closed and stared into middle space.

  “I know that look,” Junior said. “So, let me put it another way. If you let the half-demon kid go with you, it will make me very happy and I’ll get well faster.”

  “Emotional blackmail,” I muttered.

  We locked gazes, and finally I nodded. Junior lifted a hand, made a fist and I bumped it with mine.

  The deal was sealed.

  “OKAY, YOU GET the picture. Right?” I asked my mother.

  Faye glared. “I’m not stupid, Allie. If you’re not back in twenty-four hours, I have to go into that, God forbid.”

  She pointed at the gaping black hole revealed when we’d removed the lid from the cistern.

  “And . . .” I prompted.

  “Start hollering for Melia.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. Since Melia, the queen of the forest faeries, is your mother, she’ll hear your cry for help.”

  I tried to sound confident, even though I actually had no idea what would happen when Faye stepped into Boundless (providing she could even find it) and summoned Melia. But Faye was already a basket case, so I had to choose my words carefully.

  Faye shuddered. “When you put it that way—cry for help—it makes me think I’m not up to the challenge.”

  “You have to be up to it.” I placed my hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes, willing her to be brave. “Remember, once I get to Boundless, time becomes fluid. What seems like a day may be a week. I’ll have no way of knowing if it’s day or night. Today is Sunday. I have to be back by Tuesday at the latest. I’m depending on you. Don’t let me down.”

  I was feeling a little shaky myself. The cistern was creepy, but what choice did I have? I’d phoned Kizzy earlier, and she’d insisted I have a backup plan. My mother was it. Okay, it wasn’t perfect, but when it came to the mother-daughter dynamic, I’d seen Faye morph into a ferocious mama bear. I was depending on that to happen again if she thought I was in danger. Besides, it was the best plan I could hatch up considering the timeline. However, I did have a backup backup plan.

  “And Plan B?”

  Faye jerked free, crossed her arms and glared. “Stop treating me like I’m an idiot.”

  “Just checking, that’s all.”

  Faye pursed her lips in disgust then recited, “If I get too freaked out, call Beck and ask him to come with me.”

  Satisfied I’d covered all the bases, I hugged Faye and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” One of Kizzy’s favorite sayings flashed through my mind. From my lips to God’s ear.

  Faye pulled free and cocked her head toward the trailer. “Phone’s ringing. Don’t go yet. It might be important.”

  Off she went on a dead run. No doubt it was her beloved calling. Andy. Mr. Free-Range Chicken Guy. Soon to be my stepfather. I heaved an impatient sigh and peered into the cistern’s inky depths. Somewhere, down there, I hoped to find the portal to another world. Could I do it without a faery guide?

  Stop thinking that way, Allie. You have to do it.

  Faye appeared in the trailer’s open doorway, waving an arm. “It’s for you.”

  I trotted to the trailer. “Who is it?”

  Faye pinched her lips together and handed me the phone.

  “Who?” I repeated, my voice tight with irritation.

  Faye shook her head and stepped outside.

  I muttered a few choice words under my breath and then spoke into the phone. “Hello? Who is this?”

  “It’s me. Anna Starr. Your sister.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  OH, GREAT. Anna Starr Emerson, aka Anne Marie Scott, was the adopted daughter of a Trimark and my newly discovered twin. Six months earlier, she’d basically told me to never, ever, bother her again. There was only one possible reason she would be calling me. Paula Scott, her Trimark mother, wanted to know what I knew about the summer solstice. Which, truth be told, wasn’t much.

  My finger hovered over the off button. Then, curiosity got the best of me. Instead of giving in to my baser self and telling her to go straight to hell, I sighed and said, “So, you’re calling yourself Anna Starr now? I thought you were Anne Marie Scott.”

  “Yeah, well, Anna Starr’s my birth name.”

  “And, you figured I’d be more likely to talk to you if you called yourself Anna Starr. Look, Anne Marie, I’m pretty busy right now so maybe we can catch up later.”

  “Please don’t hang up, Allie. Something weird is happening to me, and you’re the only one who can help.”

  Yeah, right. Like I was the expert in weird. Um, actually, I guess was. “Weird, how?” I said, bearing in mind her mother was probably listening in.

  “I’m having strange dreams. Like I’m up in the sky flying through the moon and stars. And, I hear voices.”

  I hardened my heart. “Maybe you’re going crazy. Hearing voices is one of the symptoms. Have you seen a shrink? I know your parents can afford one.”

  After a strangled sob, she said, “Why are you so mean to me? I’m just trying to help.”

  “I don’t believe you. It’s your Trimark mother you’re trying to help. Not me. Remember, you blew us off after we drove 1,200 miles to see you. FYI, your mother tried to kill us on our trip home.”

  I heard a gasp of surprise. If nothing else, the girl was a good actress. Maybe I’d be seeing her on the big screen someday.

  Anne Marie said, “I don’t believe you. My mother wouldn’t kill anyone. And, she’s definitely not a Trimark, whatever that is.”

  “Ask your mother to tell you about the Trimarks. I’m sure she’s standing right next to you, telling you what to say, what to ask.”

  “She’s not here! Cross my heart.”

  “Like I said before, I don’t believe you.”

  Anne Marie began sobbing in earnest. I figured Paula Scott was pinching her to make her cry and almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “Gotta go,” I said.

  “No!” Anne Marie screamed. “Don’t hang up. Pl
ease. It’s not what you think. I need answers. I need . . .”

  I broke our connection before she could tell me what she needed. And yes, I did feel a twinge of guilt about how I’d treated her. But I couldn’t afford to feel sorry for Anne Marie. Not if I wanted to stay alive.

  On the guilt side, I knew Anne Marie, like me, was a victim. She was virtually stolen from my mother. Anne Marie’s adoptive mother thought she was the Star Seeker, not me. It was because she had a star-shaped birthmark on her cute little butt. But she’d picked the wrong twin. I was the Star Seeker. Me. Allie Emerson. The one with the perfect star on her palm. According to the prophecy, I was the girl whose destiny was to save the world from the Trimarks.

  When we tracked Anne Marie down six months ago, we’d found a shallow, spoiled rotten brat who wanted nothing to do with her birth family. Swear to God, the girl could teach a class called Mean Girls. The last I heard, her mother had shipped her off to an undisclosed destination to keep her away from her creepy relatives. Faye and me. With the summer solstice approaching, I was pretty sure her mother was using Anne Marie as a tool to pry information from me.

  I bit my lip and tried to put Anne Marie’s desperate plea for help out of my mind.

  Faye appeared in the open doorway. “What did she want?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to get into a big freaking deal with my mother. “Nothing much. Just chitchat.”

  Faye’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Bullshit.”

  I kissed her cheek and headed for the cistern. “Tell ya later. I gotta go find faery land.”

  Faye trailed after me, but before I could change my mind, I grabbed the rungs and lowered myself into the cistern. Halfway down the ladder, I paused and looked up to see my mother’s worried face framed by blue sky. I gave her a cheery wave and yelled, “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.” I hope.

  Down, down I went until Faye’s face and the sky disappeared. I paused for a moment and listened to my wildly beating heart. Even though the cistern no longer held water, it smelled disgusting, like slime and mold. One of the demons on my shoulder whispered, you don’t have to do this, Allie. Climb up. Go to the daylight. I bit my lip and went down another rung.

  I knew I was on the right track because normal cisterns are around nine feet deep. Earlier today, I’d shone my flashlight inside and could see the bottom. Now, as I descended step by step, it became an inky, black bottomless pit. Was I approaching Hell or on hallowed ground? Who knew?

  I plunged one hand into my jeans pocket, making sure I’d remembered to bring a rusty iron nail. Once I found the portal, I’d step through and leave the nail on the Boundless side, hoping and praying it would guarantee my entry back into the mortal world. I didn’t dare take iron into the heart of Boundless or I’d be put to death.

  As previously stated, I’d never ventured to Boundless alone and without the moonstone. Ryker Matheson had always been with me, calming my fears. Promising me I’d be safe. Panic bubbled up in my chest as daylight disappeared and the smothering darkness pressed in on me.

  I pulled a small flashlight from my pocket and flicked it on, hoping the tiny ray of light would chase away my demons. Searching for the portal, I played the light over the dank walls. How far down into the cistern had Ryker and I climbed before we found the oaken door that led to Boundless? I’d been scared spitless then, so the entire episode was like an eerie, bad dream. Not at all helpful in my current situation.

  “Guess I’ll just keep going and see what happens,” I said aloud. “Maybe I’ll end up in China.”

  I clamped the flashlight between my teeth and carefully lowered myself ten steps, then twenty. I remembered Ryker knocking on the cistern wall, so every few steps I doubled up my fist and pounded. Five steps. Pound. Five steps. Pound.

  After the third series of five steps, a strange thing happened. Instead of heading straight down, the ladder curved to the left as if the cistern had become a labyrinth complete with twists and turns and a spiral staircase. I stopped to get my bearings. The only sound was the banging of my heart.

  Stepping with care, I’d just completed a full circle when an unearthly bellow rang out. I yelped in terror and the flashlight fell from my open mouth. I heard it tinkling against the walls of the cistern as it tumbled into free fall darkness.

  “Allie!”

  Okay, who or whatever was in the cistern with me knew my name. Was this good or bad? I was leaning toward bad because the throaty growl reminded me of the sounds I’d heard at the Unseelie Court. Like right before some poor, unsuspecting creature was torn limb from limb by a hideous faery with razor-sharp claws and teeth.

  Paralyzed with fear, I weighed my options. Call out or stay silent? Up or down? With all my heart, I wanted to scamper back up the ladder. Totally willing to carry out its part in the scenario, my left hand reached for the rung above my head. At the last moment, I snatched it back and it drifted to my chest, seeking the calming influence of the moonstone. The missing moonstone. The very reason I was now in the cistern. I had my answer.

  I drew a shaky breath, stiffened my spine and once again, began my slow descent.

  “Lose the nail,” the voice ordered.

  “But I . . .”

  “Do it now or dwell in the cistern forever.”

  The nail joined the flashlight.

  “Yes, good,” the creature growled. “Take four more steps and proceed widdershins.”

  “Widder what?” I said aloud, taking one more step down.

  “No! I said widdershins.”

  “You want me to go up?”

  “Hmmm,” the creature mulled. “I must think like a mortal. Not an easy task. I believe your word is counterclockwise.”

  I snorted in disgust. “So you do want me to go up. Like I just said.”

  “Widdershins,” he said again.

  I reversed my direction and took a couple of steps widdershins. I was still going down. How could that be? It defied the laws of physics.

  “Now, rap on the wall three times. When the portal appears, repeat the following five words. Slobberknocker. Gazump. Paradiddle. Crapkin. Batragophogus.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I muttered, delivering the required three knocks.

  No oaken door this time. Instead, accompanied by a creak and groan, a crack appeared in the cistern wall. Barely a sliver’s width at first, it grew by inches until it was just wide enough for a skinny person to slip through sideways. Beyond the crack, I saw nothing but gray mist. Still clinging to the ladder, I slipped one foot through the crack and zap!

  “Damn, that hurt,” I yelled, withdrawing my foot.

  Picture a giant, intensely angry bumblebee landing on your big toe with its big, old stinger powered up and ready for action.

  The creature sighed. “Did I not tell you to repeat the five words first? Perhaps you are simple minded. If you want to enter Boundless, you must do exactly as I tell you or pay the consequences.”

  “Sorry,” I said (and I really was). “Could you please repeat them?”

  He did. I finally got them right, but it took a while because I kept stumbling over Batragophogus, which my weird cistern friend informed me, meant feeding on frogs. Yuck! Note to self: write words down as soon as possible for English teacher, Mrs. Burke, who loved adding vocabulary words to her list.

  “You may enter,” said the voice.

  I squeezed through the crack and into a world obscured by a swirling gray mist so dense I couldn’t see my own feet.

  “Great,” I said. “Just great. Now what do I do, weird faery guy?”

  I didn’t expect an answer. I figured he just hung out in the cistern, waiting to scare the crap out of unsuspecting mortals. I was wrong.

  “Use your hand to draw a door in the mist,” he said. “Step through and you will find the path to Boundless.”

  My heart kicked up a beat. Had I done it? Was I almost there? I flapped my hand through the fog directly in front of me. The swirls parted briefly, revealing a rainbow-hued lake, sh
immering under a bright green sun. Then, the heavy mist descended once again.

  I jerked in fright when a heavy sigh blew my hair straight up. Geez, the thing was standing directly behind me, blowing his hot breath on the back of my neck.

  He growled, “I said, use your hand to draw a door, but you merely flapped your hand like a demented giglet. Do as I say.”

  “Sorry,” I said again.

  Feeling totally ridiculous, I used my finger to draw a door in the mist. To make up for past sins, I went a little overboard with the extras. A doorknob. A hinge. A small window with curtains. He’d better not be calling me a demented giglet again.

  “Yes, that will do,” said the voice. “Now, open the door and step through.”

  Taking care to do exactly as he said, I put my hand on the knob, which, strangely, felt like solid brass. I turned the knob and pushed. The door swung open with a loud squeak. Maybe I should have applied some imaginary oil to the hinges.

  I peered through the open door. No rainbow-hued lake. No green sun. Instead, I saw a swamp bubbling with pink mud surrounded by waving purple grass.

  “Don’t stand there like an ignorant snirt!”

  A hard shove to my backside propelled me through the door. I landed on all fours in gooey pink mud, face-to-face with a grinning skull. The door slammed shut behind me.

  Welcome to Boundless, Allie.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SCREAMING IN HORROR, I recoiled from the skull and tried to stand. It wasn’t easy since the pink mud clung to me like warm taffy. Once upright, I spotted a bony foot, a rib cage and what looked like a thighbone. Breathless with fear, my only thought was run, Allie, run. I couldn’t, of course. I lifted a foot. The mud made a slurping noise and tried to suck it back in. What if I couldn’t get out of the stuff? Would I be stuck here forever until I was just a pile of Allie bones?

  I balanced on one foot, frantically looking for dry land. If I could make it to the purple grass, maybe the ground would be solid. I gritted my teeth, took a giant step forward and tried to pull my back foot out of the mud. It didn’t budge, and I was now practically doing the splits. Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. The muscles in my legs quivered in protest. How long could I hold this position before they seized up entirely and I splatted face first in the mud and died of suffocation?