Luna Read online

  He scanned the tranquil surroundings. “We need to talk.”

  Talk about the understatement of the year. “Okay, follow me.”

  I led him behind the counter and to the break room in back. I closed the door and, against my better judgment, cast a simple binding spell to fuse the lock so nobody could open it from the outside.

  I was getting bolder with my use of the gift, but when in Rome, right? Small tricks would likely go unnoticed. At this point, I had nothing to lose.

  My name was no longer secret, nor was my lineage or allegiance. It was only a matter of time before the Immortal used my name to enhance a scouting spell that would lead him to the Order’s location.

  Faion noticed the pictures tacked to a cork board on the wall, a random selection from work gatherings, personal trips and Halloweens past.

  He focused on a picture of our manager, Doug, standing among a herd of llamas up in the mountains. “Where was that picture taken?”

  I shrugged. “Peru, maybe.”

  His face lit up. “Man, I’d like to ride a llama. I’d go to South America just for that. It’s like I look into their llama eyes and can read their minds.”

  “Are you nuts?” I said, then thought of it. “Wait, can you actually read minds?”

  “Nah. That’s the telepaths’ game. We diviners only sense stuff.”

  “Right.”

  He pursed his lips. “You still don’t trust me?”

  “Trust takes time, Faion. These are strange days.”

  “Yeah they are,” he agreed, reaching into his shirt to take out his amulet with the triangle divining symbols for life and light. The playfulness vanished from his features as he handed me the amulet. He became almost solemn.

  The silver charm blazed a bright orange when it came to rest in my palm. I shuddered. Green sparks swirled above the ancient symbols. My very core was affected. A tight grip of power clenched my gut before dissolving into a quivering energy that tickled through my limbs.

  “Okay, so let’s say I trust you,” I said, deciding to take a leap of faith.

  His etheric essence was true enough and beggars can’t be choosers.

  I retrieved my backpack from a wall hook and pulled out the worn edition of The Book of Night Rituals.

  Faion’s eyes widened as they landed on the brown leather cover engraved in gold. “That’s a magic book! You must be out of your mind. Why do you have that? You can’t be carrying around a book of spells. And a night book? If that book gets in the wrong hands—”

  “It won’t.”

  “That’s it? You just say it won’t and now the rest of creatures of the world can just chill, even though you out here slinging around a world-destroying artifact like it’s a Horchata Latte?”

  “I needed answers. I need to understand material waves to determine what’s real, what’s magic, or what’s just in my head. I think I figured it out.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You figured out what’s real?”

  “Yeah, an Immortal is after me.”

  Faion’s face went pale as if King Yan had ridden in on his White Horse.

  King Yan was a legend of the Deep Down, one of the early Immortal gods who had gone mad. He rode a massive white steed which, when cloaked in magic, appeared to be transparent like the mythical mist horses of the ancient mist rider stories. King Yan rode at night, hacking human and animal heads off with a scythe, igniting panic wherever his legend spread.

  The legendary mist horses traveled so fast that those who blinked missed seeing them entirely. They would appear in the middle of a heartbeat and disappear just as quickly into the morning dew. The mist riders shared the vaporous effect as they raced their beasts like ghosts along the horizon.

  No one controlled magic or the elements more efficiently. When mist horses and riders found each other, their combined energies were the greatest the world had seen.

  Of course, no one could say with any certainty that the mist riders or their horses ever truly existed.

  “You mean an Immortal Immortal?” Faion said. “Like the faction assassin Immortals? Those crank-ass Seventh Council war wagers? The darkness-that-seeps-into-your-nightmares dudes? That kind of Immortal?”

  I was impressed. Faion Trice was the real thing. “Yeah, those guys.”

  He bent his face. “How can you be sure?”

  “Let me count the ways. He kidnapped me, kicked my ass with unfamiliar powers, healed me so easily I questioned whether I was ever hurt, he returned to make obscure threats, and then hurt me again before saying I had to help him with something which, of course, he never explained.”

  “Okay, shit, yeah—fuck, that’s not good.” Faion snatched my backpack and stuffed the book inside. “We need to get your crazy butt to the Deep Down pronto. I know a gate. Terra Mar Point on the beach in Carlsbad. It’s walled-in, safe, shielded by the ocean.”

  “It’s just right there on the beach?”

  “On the Point, yeah, you just have to know precisely where and how to open it,” he said, motioning me to remove the door spell. “We need to talk to the mages, the elders, even the clairvoyants. We’ll need their counsel.”

  I took the backpack gently from his hands. “I can’t do that.”

  “It’s not optional. We go or all is lost.”

  “Faion, I can’t involve the Deep Down. He’ll follow me. It’s probably what he wants. I’d be jeopardizing the lives of every single deep dweller, the lives of all my people and your life, too.”

  He looked at me with his mouth agape. “You mean…?”

  “He knows my Order name. It’d be only a matter of time before he found a way to bind it to a spell that would betray my location in the Deep Down and unlock the magic in my blood. I can’t run from this. And I won’t be the one to beckon an army of death-thirsty Immortals to the Deep Down.”

  Somebody tried the door.

  “Everything alright, Sophie?” Maura said from the other side.

  I squeezed the fusing spell with my hand to keep the door from budging. “Yeah, all good,” I said. “I need a moment.”

  “Okay, but it’s getting busy. And that boy’s too young for you.”

  Faion chuckled. I covered his mouth with my hand.

  “I’ll be right there,” I said, glaring at Faion.

  Faion waited before continuing. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a plan. I need to stand up to him and I have no idea how to do that. I’m like a fly in hurricane with him. His power exceeds mine exponentially. I also have no clue what his motives might be or from what source of energy he draws his magic.”

  Faion clenched his teeth. “I could help, maybe… a little.”

  “Hey, I’m all ears, but you really should walk away.”

  He flashed me a crooked grin. “I’m not badass like you lunar witches. I can’t blast shit left and right, but I have my own set of skills. Under the right circumstances, if the undying dude doesn’t sniff it out, I could forge a temporary connective path between him and me that would enable us to monitor his moves.”

  I chewed on what he said. “That’s a real thing?”

  “It’s a reciprocal thing, usually shared between diviners, but it can potentially be applied to outsiders if their core energy is overflowing.”

  “Whatever that asshole may or may not be, he’s definitely overflowing with dark energy,” I said with tapered enthusiasm, “but this sounds like a suicide mission. Have you ever actually done this before?”

  “Not exactly, but I’ve done a lot of reading. We just need to exchange something very personal, something that contains traces of our magic, like amulets or skin particles or blood.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let me stop you. I can guarantee you right now that’s not going to happen. He’ll never volunteer anything like that.”

  “I didn’t expect him to just hand it over, Miss Thing,” Faion said, searching. “How about hair? That’s possible, right? If he’s packing as much magic as you say, there�
��ll be traces of it in his hair.”

  “And if we manage to pull it all off?” I said, losing patience.

  “Well, once the exchange is complete, I’m on live with all of his sensory experiences. I’ll have extended glimpses of what he’s seeing and hearing.”

  He sounded too confident. It was too good to be true. “Wouldn’t he be able to do the same to you?”

  “Not unless he’s a diviner on top of everything else.”

  Anything was possible, but it was a risk we’d have to take. “Okay, let me get this straight. I need to get some of his hair, and we’ll mix it with your hair?”

  Faion shook his head. “My magic core is not strong enough to sustain the connection outside of my blood.”

  Lovely. “Alright, let’s do this.”

  I got down on my knees to rummage through the bottom cupboards until I found what I was looking for—a stack of sealed urine collection cups that were used for pre-employment drug testing.

  He frowned. “Really?”

  “It’s sterilized,” I said, shrugging.

  With a growl and a huff, he lifted the triangle amulet and began chanting.

  I removed the lid from the cup and held it over the sink. Faion placed his hand inches above the cup and slit the skin near his wrist with the sharp edge of the amulet. His blood spilled into the cup.

  The current of power that was released from his bloodstream flickered brightly in the cup before I screwed the lid on tight.

  I held the cup to the light. Faion’s blood bubbled up like cherry soda.

  “Now what?”

  He tapped his forefinger on his chin. “You’ll need to apply it on his skin so it can be absorbed at a cellular level. The ideal spot would be the center of his chest, the sternum, but anywhere on his torso would work.”

  Oh, that’s all? This was getting ridiculous. “So, not only do I have to pluck hair from his head, I also have to get him shirtless and slather blood on his chest? How do you suggest I do that? Seduce my immortal arch enemy?”

  “Would you?”

  I threw him a stare so arctic he froze in place.

  “Chillax. I’m kidding, obviously.”

  “You better chillax.”

  My glare must have been lethal. He backtracked so fast he stumbled. “I’m totally going to do that. I’m sorry. My sense of humor is not one of my powers.”

  “Apparently,” I said with a big sigh.

  “Listen,” he said. “If anyone can find a way to make this happen, it’s you. You’re a lunar witch and you obviously have your charms.”

  “Easy now, Faion. You better be talking about my magic.”

  “Sophie, I learned my lesson. No more jokes. I’m down with the Me, Too thing. I’m woke to that. I just mean that you’re our only chance.”

  “That’s your pep talk?”

  “Also not one of my powers,” he said, a sparkle returning to his eye.

  Not proud, but I started to wonder if Immortals and witches could even mate. Yuck. What was wrong with me?

  “Moving on,” I said, trying to get my mind on a new path. “What happens if he sees the blood and washes it off?”

  “The spell forces the blood into his hypodermis quickly and then quickly evaporates the rest, leaving no trace. The whole thing won’t take longer than ninety seconds. You think you can distract him that long?”

  Diverting his eyes for ninety seconds, check, I could make that happen.

  Faion refastened the amulet around his neck. “Call me when it’s done,” he said, handing me a folded piece of paper with his number.

  I nodded. “If I survive, sure. Oh, and Faion, not a word of this to anyone, especially your grandmother.”

  “I feel that.”

  I waved my hand and Faion opened the door. He stepped out, stopped and stepped back into the break room. “Dude, it’s really busy out there.”

  “Oh, shit, Maura!”

  I rushed past Faion to take care of the first of my tasks for the day. Serving baked goods and coffee was something I knew how to do.

  Now finding a way to summon my enemy before stealing a hair from his head and rubbing Faion’s blood onto the ripped Immortal’s naked sternum without resorting to sex… that was way outside my lane.

  CHAPTER 8

  ____________________________________

  Standing in front of the mirror, I removed my shirt and sweatpants, wearing only my underwear. My skin prickled as wind and moonlight crawled through the open bathroom window to greet me.

  The magic had to be swift and powerful enough to cause ripples through the night skies above the city, across tall buildings and electrical wires, in order to reach the Immortal wherever he may dwell.

  I had to expose my skin to receive the most natural energy. My magic also had to be strong and sophisticated enough to obscure its origin from the orbs.

  If he needed me as much as he claimed—and the fact I was still alive suggested that he did—he would be listening. I had to believe that.

  There was not a moment to waste. The longer Faion’s blood sat inside the cup the less potent it would become. I didn’t have the luxury to wait around for Mister Sadistic Sizzle Chest to show up. I had to summon him by any means necessary.

  The power rushed into me. I let it stream through my veins. The energy jolt spiked at my fingertips. It had been years since I had summoned the totality of my resources, using direct lunar energy to replenish them.

  I shut my eyes, overwhelmed by the gathering force. A torrent of white energy pulsed in my palms. If I let it loose, it would detonate, sparking out in a hundred directions, imploding my apartment into oblivion—and me with it.

  Drinking in a hefty dose of lunar energy, I evoked the Immortal’s face to my frontal lobe. Words in my mouth turned into an incantation—ancient, enemy, obey, magistrate, potent, succumb, assassin, immortal, arrive.

  Again and again, the words thrusted forth, louder each time, until the chant and the elemental energy blended, driving the summons to a climax.

  As my magic locked itself inside the mirror, a sharp ache beat within me until some powerful being intercepted my spell. I could not be sure my target had been engaged, but I could feel a sudden pushback. I pushed harder to deliver the spell, but the resistance grew too strong.

  The magic dissipated in electric spirals and I collapsed onto the floor, panting so hard I thought I would pass out, but the moon shined down to heal me with its pale light.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, brushing my hair away from my face.

  I quickly found my clothes and dressed. I sat on the sofa, counting my breaths. One, two, three, inhale, four, five, six, exhale.

  All I could do was wait. I immediately doubted the plan Faion and I had concocted. There were way too many variables involved, plenty of ways it could turn either pointless or deadly.

  I mean, how smart was it to piss off an Immortal Magistrate who could obliterate San Diego with one hissy fit?

  That’s rhetorical.

  When the timer on my phone warned me it was midnight, I lifted my legs onto the sofa and closed my eyes. I drifted away breath by breath. My neck muscles let go, allowing my head to sink deeper into the cushion, when, out of nowhere, an arctic gust blasted through my door, shattering the lock.

  I barely had time to get on my feet before a hand grabbed my throat.

  There we go again.

  He glared at me. “Why the fuck would you use unsealed magic?”

  I grimaced to remind him he had to let me access oxygen to talk.

  He reduced the pressure but kept his hand around my throat.

  “Practice,” I said with a hoarse voice.

  He did not believe that for a moment.

  “I’m in the game now,” I insisted. “I have to get stronger.”

  “Cut the bullshit. You were provoking me.”

  He released me completely now with a huff.

  I massaged my throat. “What if I was? Do you expect me to hang around like a sitting d
uck, waiting for your next attack?”

  His face turned predatory. “You think you’ve been attacked? There would be nothing left of you if I attacked.”

  “Exactly my point,” I said.

  “Are you always so tedious, Luna Mae?” He touched his hair as if to straighten it, but it was already perfect. “Just to be clear, as I explained to you quite plainly last time, you’ve been recruited and are under my command.”

  I snapped. “I’m not yours to command, psycho. I’m not helping you and your buddies take over the world. I’d rather fight you now.”

  Please, don’t let him take me seriously.

  He looked irritated. “Do you have a mental impairment?”

  “Wow, I realize that back in whatever year you were born that might not have sounded completely chauvinistic,” I said, walking to the door, “but in this world, it’s really lame, dude. Now, please, get out.”

  I tried to act defiant by holding open the door that had already been blown off its hinges. I knew my plea for decency had fallen on deaf ears when an unseen restraint wrapped tightly around my upper body.

  “What is this? I’ve never heard of Immortals wielding such magic,” I growled a second before he removed the restraint. “Who taught you?”

  He moved toward me with an icy certainty in his blue eyes. “Whatever game you’re playing, I choose to ignore it. Fighting you would be as useless for me as it would be deadly for you. Your weakness will always be met with pain in any and all the realms. I merely illustrate that in haste as I have not time for such feeble resistance. Listen to me and make no mistake, you will help me.”

  “Screw you,” I hissed. With both hands, I struck his chest as hard as I could, again and again. He might as well have been made from stone. His bulky pecs did more damage to my hands than I did to them.

  I was not sure what I was doing, but I had to do something. I growled and smacked his right cheek with the back of my hand. He didn’t flinch.

  Physically drained, I plopped onto the sofa. Hot tears ran down my face. They were tears born out of frustration, but he didn’t know that.