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  There was no way I could stop them from up here. My energy would not strike at full power from such a distance. They were alert and quick as hell, they had brushed off my strike like a mosquito bite and now they knew I was here. They’d duck and leap over every blow I delivered until they got to me.

  Panic rose in my chest. Not for me, for those little girls. I charged down the bluff, magic raging in my blood, blindly hurling energy jolts.

  All seven morphs formed a defensive line at the bottom of the hill, baring their teeth at me. Everything blurred as I ran faster than ever, trying to get to them before they all shifted.

  I blasted the first morph that got in my way, setting him on fire like he was made of paper. The second shifter I targeted leaped aside to avoid the blast, then spun on the spot and grabbed my arm. Claws dug deep inside my back, ripping skin and flesh apart. The cheetah shifter.

  I screamed so loud I hurt my own ears, the pain cutting across my back like a hot iron.

  Winter’s shield. I’d walked straight out of it, forgetting to form any protection of my own. He was right. Anger was my worst enemy.

  The shifters piled on. I collapsed, hitting the ground like a rock, their weight suffocating the life out of me.

  Blood pounded viciously in my head. Elemental energy streamed out of me, producing an electric current that grew fiercer than I could control.

  The unruly power consumed my limbs. Underneath me, the earth shook. My body began to hum like I was about to explode. The energy spilled out of my hands in dual torrents.

  Multi-colored currents of raw energy expanded above the shifters. Gritting my teeth, I concentrated until my skull ached. The unbridled power suddenly condensed into itself and imploded with a sonic boom.

  Instinctively, I spun a shield around the girls to keep them from being incinerated alongside the beasts.

  Everything detonated at once. The raging force skipped over the girls’ shield and tore through morph flesh while vaporizing the tents, leaving me and the children untouched.

  I stood stunned as the shifters squealed, their bodies melting and falling to pieces like they were made of wax.

  My senses returned to me slowly. The children. I scrambled over the mutilated morph bodies to get to them. I used a thin line of magic to cut the ties on their hands. I used my body to shield them from the gruesome dead.

  A distant sound of hollering and galloping reached my ears.

  I wheeled around and crouched down, taking both girls in my arms. Their little faces were covered in dirt and ashes, lips trembling.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “You girls have to run now. Run up that hill and down the other side. Go to the road, you’ll see a red car. Get inside, lock the doors and stay low. I’ll come for you.”

  They ran. Good girls. I turned to ready for more morphic shifters materializing from the darkness of the canyon.

  Shit, oh shit.

  There were a whole lot of them, too many, maybe fifty. I hoped someone would find the girls. I would be lucky to hold these beasts back for more than a few minutes, but I had to, the girls had to have a chance.

  The morphs ran at me at irregular speeds. Some fast, some slow, some in straight lines, others circling around. They began tearing the clothes off their human bodies as they transformed one-by-one into an army of oversized beasts—wolves, bears, cougars, even bulls and an eagle.

  Claws and snouts pumped forth, fur and horns and a hundred yellow eyes came charging as they were being born into existence. At least the Moon had not gone completely metamorphic yet, limiting their beastly forms to species of this world.

  I was grinding, rapidly losing my vigor as a good chunk of energy had spilled out of my body and I’d had no time to replenish my core.

  Gathering whatever I had left, I tried to create a shield.

  The morphs crashed against my shield like rabid dogs, lusting feverishly for my flesh. One-by-one they were zapped by the energy in the shield but wouldn’t give up despite their scorched hides. Their rage grew ever more maddening and reckless.

  They kept chewing on my shield even as gums bled and snouts sizzled.

  Their paws and hooves banged down like giant fists, rattling the shield until pain radiated through my arms and neck. I felt my body shutting down, unwilling to exert so much energy to sustain my shield.

  My head spun about, trying to avoid the horrific faces of the sinister predators that wanted nothing else except to eat me alive.

  Then I felt him. My eyes blinked and they found him in the distance.

  It was Winter… running.

  The tall, majestic, fierce Jonas Sandell racing to my rescue.

  He pounced on the morphs like a thunderclap, rage taking over his features, killing all that stood in his way. He twisted necks and ripped off heads with his bare hands, crushed windpipes and blew knee joints.

  His clothes were being shredded by desperate claws and fangs. His flesh tore and bled, but somehow mended nearly as fast like a video game.

  He was reducing their number as he turned red from blood and exertion. No force on Earth could defeat him when he had that fierce look on his face. The morphs figured that out. They had not survived this long by being slow learners. Those that yet breathed retreated, quickly, as if it was all a dream.

  Winter chased after them. He’d not rest until they were all dead.

  I dropped, gagging for air, unable to sustain the shield one more second.

  A blade burst through my back, slicing right through me. Shocked, I looked down to see the blade’s tip sticking out right above my stomach.

  Fluid spilled out of my mouth. I touched my lips, feeling the sticky warmth of blood on my fingers. A thunderbolt split the morph in half as he dragged the blade out of me in hopes to stab me again.

  Two other morphs scurried away. The dull echo of their retreat rang loudly in my ears. The world spun. In the distance, walking back to me, there was Winter, naked, covered in blood, muscles twitching like a god.

  A nice final image before fading away.

  CHAPTER 22

  ____________________________________

  Strands of mother’s auburn hair danced on the sea breeze. Her fine hair was always dancing and shining and kissed by sunshine. She smiled that slow-rising smile every time she looked at me, and my small heart rose with it, up to the golden red magic of her breathtaking, windswept hair.

  I am the Sun and you are the Moon, she always said as the waves rolled in and the sea crashed against her legs and wet the hem of her yellow dress and made my beautiful mother shiver with nature’s pure joy.

  I wanted to go there, return there, to where my heart was bursting and my soul was as beautiful as mother, but copper and salt clogged my throat.

  Mother faded when the void swallowed the Sun.

  My eyes opened to his dirty face. I coughed blood onto his bare chest.

  Winter dropped to his knees, slipping an arm under my neck. My weary head fell against his shoulder.

  “The Sun is gone,” I whispered. “Time to sleep.”

  He took my face in his hands. His eyes were full of panic.

  “That look,” I said, “it’s that look when someone’s dying.”

  He did not deny it, he just turned away.

  “I’m not immortal, you see,” I said with a smile. “I break.”

  “I can’t heal you,” he said. “Your heart. The damage is severe.”

  I was too tired to cheer him up or find a lovely thing to say. What a sad life and even sadder end.

  Sad, but not pointless. I had saved two children.

  I struggled to breathe. “Go… find another witch.”

  “No,” he said. “I can’t heal you, but you can.”

  I couldn’t laugh or move. I had cast my final spell.

  “Concentrate. Use your core,” he insisted.

  “I don’t heal. I’m not immortal.”

  His eyes burned red. “Yes, you are, Luna.”

  “No.”

  �
�Then why do you yet live? Your heart and lungs were punctured through with a rusted blade. And here you are… breathing… talking.”

  His strange, metaphorical pep talk did nothing for me.

  He raised me up. The pain nearly blinded me.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “You’ve done this before. Heal yourself.”

  My Immortal handler had lost his shit.

  I curled my fingers behind his neck, my head resting on his shoulder. My eyes grew heavy. Dying wrapped in those strong arms was a good end. Good enough.

  He shook me. Roughly, violently. Yep, stark, raving mad.

  My chest stung as if he was ripping it apart. My blurred vision took on black spots now. I was falling into an abyss that I would not climb out.

  Winter stuck his fingers in my wound and opened it wider. I could only see white now and feel absolute pain. He reached inside my chest. He squeezed my mangled heart.

  I was gone now. The pain was all there was—just one eternal scream.

  “Now,” he yelled. “Activate your eternal core.”

  My lungs stopped. Oxygen drained from my blood. My heart stopped. Yet, my mind grew more lucid, my hands buzzed with magic and energy.

  I could see again. I could see Winter’s bloodied face. I choked on air, gasping and spitting as oxygen refilled my lungs. My chest rose and fell again, the pain diminished as my hand found my wound. Tissue and flesh met, bonded and sealed. I became whole.

  “The witch that heals,” Winter said. He kissed the top of my head.

  My god, he was naked. I was in his arms and he was as nude as the day he was born, but with quite a bit more muscle.

  “Put me down,” I said, sternly. Then it hit me. “The children!”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Children?”

  “Yes.” I staggered off and began to run up the bluff, adrenaline taking over completely. I couldn’t believe I was both alive and running.

  Winter caught me in full stride—yes, still… native. “What’s going on?”

  “Two little girls,” I said, short of breath. “Those assholes were about to sacrifice them. I had no choice. I had to attack.”

  We reached the top in time to see an ambulance driving away. Two women in a sedan also drove away. They were probably good Samaritans. They must have called 911.

  “I can’t imagine what those babies went through,” I said and exhaled.

  A small beam of light flashed in my palm. I quickly scanned Winter, then the state of my own body. We were both covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

  He read my mind. “The Tijuana River is just over that foothill,” he said, pointing east. “Five-minute detour.”

  We did not exchange two words while walking. What exactly does one say to a naked Immortal?

  Winter dove in the cold stream headfirst. He came up for air, wiping water off his face with both hands.

  “Jump in, witchling,” he said. “You smell like morph guts.”

  “Turn around,” I ordered him.

  The moon’s pale light shone down on me as I removed my shredded, bloodied clothes and dipped my toes in the water. Cold, yet refreshing.

  “You survived a punctured heart,” Winter teased. “A little cold water isn’t going to kill you.”

  Said the Captain of the Titanic.

  “Stop peeking,” I yelled.

  Water and temperature were not things that usually gave me pause. My body felt new somehow. My resurrection had staggered me. The whole mad reality of what was to come staggered me.

  I plunged into the water, holding my breath. It felt like the first time I had ever felt the cold on my skin. Elemental energy rushed into me, bathing me in its soothing flow even as I shivered. I rubbed my face and hands clean, then worked on my hair. I pressed down on my breastbone. The ravaging wound had vanished, not even the slightest scratch or redness remained.

  I caught Winter’s gaze on me. His eyes looked almost tender, shadows and moonlight alternating on the beautiful lines of his face. I sensed a hurricane swelling behind his calm composure and I bit my lip.

  “You go first,” I said.

  “I have clothes in the car,” he said, stepping out of the water.

  Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

  “A bit oversized,” he went on. “I’ll leave them at the foot of the bluff.”

  Considerate bastard.

  Of course, he’d have extra clothes in the car. Winter was like the Immortals’ own Eagle Scout. Prepared for anything.

  I caught an unintended glimpse of his corded thighs and butt flexing as he dashed into the trees. I counted to ten before I followed.

  ***

  Winter turned on the car engine. “Your place or mine?”

  I stayed silent, still processing the insane night we had had, the morphs clamping down on me, the little girls, my improbable revival. In hindsight, going out of my way to find where Winter lived was one of the stupidest decisions of my life.

  “You must have a lot of questions,” he said.

  “Yeah, but do I want to hear the answers?”

  He pulled out onto the highway. “How do the basics say it? This isn’t Kansas now.”

  I tried not to smile. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I corrected him.

  “Point being there’s no turning back.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I said, looking out the window.

  He touched my hand, “They can conquer who believe they can.” He turned to me. “An old friend of mine said that.”

  At the condo, I lay down on his couch. He covered me with the softest blanket in the world. He brought me a cup of green tea and a warm honey biscuit. He treated me tenderly, like I was a child. His behavior was simultaneously comforting and deeply disturbing.

  He sat across from me. “The element of surprise is lost,” he said. “Two morphs escaped. By now, Chaos will know.”

  “Sorry, Jonas, I couldn’t turn away from those girls.”

  “It’s not your fault. I put you there.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “If we were there for information, why didn’t we grab a stray morph right away and make him talk?”

  He shrugged. “A morph is a pack creature. They would kill themselves before betraying their master. Both the Grand Magistrate and I believed we should stay in the shadows and observe. Knowing how they were preparing would be all the intel we’d ever need.”

  “Any luck with that alpha you followed?”

  He shook his head. “Vanished.”

  We fell silent. I knew that he was waiting for the real question, the one that had hung in the air between us the whole time.

  I also knew he had urgent matters. Time was not on our side.

  Ever the one to accommodate, I asked the damned question. “Earlier tonight I was dead, for a moment, but now I’m here, breathing. Tell me, Jonas, what the hell am I?”

  He raised his eyebrows, almost apologetically.

  “You said I’m an Immortal,” I insisted, “but I know I’m not.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “It’s exactly what you said.”

  “I did not say you are an Immortal, Luna. I said you are immortal. There’s a difference.”

  “Are you high? I’ve been hurt before. I don’t heal. I mean, I heal, but like mortals do, there’s no accelerated cellular regeneration happening.”

  He sighed. “I’ll try to explain.”

  “Do more than try.”

  “I was asked to find a young lunar witch in the San Diego area. When I found you, I sensed something more in your etheric field. I followed you. I stayed in the dark. I observed, trying to determine your mystery.”

  “Yeah, and we can assume you did. So, let’s hear it.”

  His intense gaze unsettled me. “You are natus est in caligine, born in the mist. You are a child of the rains.”

  I swallowed. My dry mouth could use some of that rain.

  “Luna Mae of the Ordre Lunaire, you have descended from the morning people,
thought lost to the world. You are a Mist Rider.”

  Excuse me?

  I sat up, dropping his expensive blanket to the floor. “I don’t believe you.”

  His eyes hardened. “I tell only the truth. You know that. It has been many centuries, but I have stood in the presence of Mist Riders before.”

  I pushed away the hand he offered me. “It’s too much. This whole night has been entirely too much. You’re too much. Ever since I met you, everything, it’s just been too much, Winter, do you understand?”

  I felt tears welling and it pissed me off.

  “You have lived like a basic, Sophie of Astoria, I understand all of this must be difficult for your young, human-spoiled mind.”

  “It’s you who are spoiling my mind,” I said without any conviction.

  “I’ll explain a bit more,” he said. “Your regeneration capacity could be activated in two ways. Through hypnosis, which I tried the first time we met, and through constant physical aggravation.” He moved closer—his breath smelled like figs and olive oil. “Nobody can know what you are. Mist Riders are not easily discerned, as my necessary abuse has made you painfully aware. We two will know and none other. Not the Council, not the Order, not your diviner, and not your fucking wolf. Do you understand?”

  “I am sure other Magistrates have known Mist Riders,” I said.

  “A few have, yes, but they must test you by fire to be certain. I will not let that happen,” he said. “I’ve also shielded the atypical parts of your essence.”

  “I need time to adjust, not long ago you were an abusive monster.”

  “There are monsters of many types in all the realms, to some I may be one, but I’m not your monster, Luna Mae. I never was.”

  “And yet you use my full Order name, which is dangerous.”

  “I know you feel it. I know you have always felt it.” He took my hands. “Someone went to great lengths to hide you, even from yourself. I am sure their motives were pure, yet unknown. Until you are strong enough, keep your legacy hidden. The abundancy of your energy core makes you a target. Even people you think you can trust would want to gorge you to death to inhale all your rare magic, and they would feel no remorse. There will be no enemies, there will be no friends, just hunters.”