The Waning Moon Read online

  Isaac had the grace to squirm uncomfortably.

  “Whose idea was it?”

  Isaac didn’t answer.

  “C’mon, Isaac. Was it yours?” I heard his answer emphatically through our bond before he even opened his mouth. “Raj. That’s what I thought. How’d he get you to go along with it?”

  Isaac decided to turn state’s evidence. “By pointing out, and rightfully so, that the wards would alert us to their presence and my bond with you, not to mention Raj’s ability to track your thoughts, would alert us to your consciousness level.”

  “And how’d that work out?” I snapped the instant before I realized I already knew the answer.

  “Quite well, actually. Raj and I knew you’d woken up before the wards signaled the suspects had breached the room. We were already on our way back to lend a hand when you killed them both. You got a victory, we killed two more enemies, and you got a hot coffee reward immediately after.”

  I looked through the plan, rolling it over in my mind, but couldn’t find any strategic holes. “Fine. You’re right. It did work out perfectly, but I would appreciate being made aware of any future plans to use me as bait. If you ever use my unconscious body as bait again, at least make sure it’s properly armed.”

  “I promise.”

  I planted a kiss on Isaac’s mouth. I’d meant it to be soft and forgiving, but I couldn’t lie with my body any more than with my words. Angry kisses were even better at stirring up physical cravings than forgiving kisses, and I crawled out of bed and went to clean up before I talked myself into make-up sex.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE NEXT FEW weeks hopped and skipped by lazily. Some days took forever to get through and then I’d blink and four had passed in blurry, rapid succession. The situation in the United States deteriorated rapidly. Food riots had been reported along the eastern seaboard, and little news was coming from the rest of the country.

  Martial law had been declared on much of the west coast, and although there had been no official announcement, the rumor on the streets was the west coast had seceded from the rest of the country. There was no air travel at all in the United States, and although most of Canada and all of Mexico were still immune from the effects of the spreading gate energy, they were limiting flights as well.

  Things in Savannah were slowly worsening. Restaurants and grocery stores closed as regular food shipments stopped. The government hadn’t announced what was going on, and the National Guard mobilized to keep the peace. A curfew was declared and those who broke curfew were summarily thrown in jail.

  I spent my time torn between worrying about the decay of my country and the increasingly ubiquitous violence, training my combat and magical skills, and spending as much time with Isaac as possible. The tighter I tried to hold on, the more rapidly he slipped through my grasp.

  Despite agreeing to our rules, he refused to talk about any alternative possibilities. He always found somewhere else to be and something else to do every time anyone brought it up.

  I tried not to let my growing frustration with his unwillingness to talk about any possible options color the time we spent together, but it was difficult not to seethe and yell and throw hurtful words like, “I thought we were in this together,” and “Why are you leaving me without a fight?” But I didn’t. I’m sure he knew how I was feeling—I couldn’t hide my true emotions from flowing through our bond—but he was willing to overlook it for the sake of never ever fucking talking about anything that might help.

  He disappeared for the three days of the full moon, refusing my aid in maintaining his control. There wasn’t a pack in the area, so he was going to go it alone; something I pointed out didn’t have to do since his wolf treated me like an Alpha. He left anyway.

  By the end of the month, he’d perfected his avoidance technique, and I’d perfected my hurt, snippy tone. Florence avoided us as much as possible. Ostensibly to give us as much alone time as possible, but I think it was mostly to avoid the near-constant bickering that erupted whenever Isaac and I were alone but not naked. Even Raj started showing up more infrequently, and only when there was a new juicy rumor to share.

  I hadn’t seen Arduinna since I arrived in Savannah and I was growing impatient. I’d thought that President Murphy and General Aldea were planning the big coming out for Thanksgiving, but I wanted confirmation of what to expect before it happened. When I said as much to Isaac, he pointed out the rest of the supernatural population wouldn’t have that luxury. That led to another spectacular bicker. I refused to call them fights.

  The day before Thanksgiving, Florence requested we set up the camper in the parking lot of the cheap motel we were still staying at. We hadn’t bothered to move around every couple of days. A few more idiot shifters had come after me, but no one else had even managed to catch me by surprise, much less inflict any damage.

  Thanksgiving morning, I flipped on the television to see what was going on in the big, wide world and to see if there was going to be a parade. There was. It was kind of pathetic, but as the announcers stated, not having the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade would be akin to letting the terrorists declare victory, and by gosh and by golly, we weren’t going to do that. And by the way, don’t forget about Black Friday tomorrow.

  At the conclusion of the tiny parade, the station moved to a DC location for a “Thanksgiving Day Address” by the President. I didn’t know if this was an annual tradition or not, but when I saw Aldea standing beside her, I knew it was happening. I opened the door and hollered across the parking lot. “Florence, Isaac, come in here! The President is making an announcement.”

  I heard muffled swearing from the camper, then both Florence and Isaac strolled over as the President began speaking.

  “My fellow Americans, I come to you on a day of Thanksgiving. This tradition goes back before the founding of our country to a time when two peoples met and broke bread together in the spirit of sharing and brotherhood. The United States of America has continued to celebrate Thanksgiving not only on the fourth Thursday of every November but in our everyday lives. We have led this world; a shining example of what peace and democracy should be.”

  I had a lot of trouble not laughing. For someone who couldn’t lie, she sure was laying it on thick.

  She continued, “The past weeks have brought new challenges and troubled times to our once peaceful country.”

  “Peaceful?” Florence snorted. “That sounds like a lie.”

  “It was peaceful once,” I replied. “December 15, 1832, I think.”

  We’d missed a few lines, but my guess was she was rehashing the events of the past few months.

  “And now we are a nation broken. Divided by an expanse of land that was once easily traversable, but now as forbidding as it was to Lewis and Clark. But like those great men, we will rebuild the routes west. If the Civil War couldn’t divide this country permanently, then neither will these events.” She paused, then, and looked directly at the camera, no longer reading from the teleprompter.

  “Many believe the events in Portland, in Rapid City, South Dakota, and in St. Louis were the work of terrorists. However, after nearly four months of exhaustive research, we have found there are no terrorists. This is not an attempt to destroy our country and way of life. It is a series of…natural disasters.”

  There was a murmur from the press corps, but she pressed on. “A better term might be supernatural disasters.” She took a deep breath, glanced back at Aldea, and continued, “What I am going to say next is going to sound like something out of a fairy tale or a Hollywood movie, but it is nothing less than the truth. I cannot lie to you, but I did not wish to share the truth until we were sure.

  “There is more to this world than you’ve seen. Living among us are the creatures we’ve read about in tales and seen celebrated on the big screen. There are vampires and werewolves and witches. Once, long ago, they were stronger, but the industrial revolution and the advent of technology began to slow the magic in our world
to a mere trickle, and their numbers dwindled.

  “Now, the magic is returning. There are eight gates opening throughout the United States. Three have opened, and there are five more to go. Once the eighth gate opens, the pendulum of industry will have swung back in the other direction and magic will once more rule the world. At this time, the supernatural creatures that have hidden in the shadows are growing in strength and will soon grow in number. Like human beings, there are good and middling and bad supernaturals. It would not be wise to assume the vampire next door is benign and sparkling, but he is unlikely to be Nosferatu. The witches, for the most part, are bound to earth and would do nothing to harm either the earth or her human children. Werewolves are bound to the full moon but are not mindless beasts savaging your livestock and stray wanderers. They have lived among you for centuries. Have sat next to you in church, have taught your children, have treated your wounds, and have served in our armies.

  “I am working with a team of supernaturals as well as engineers to determine what steps we need to take to restore communication in the dark zones and to prepare for the eventual cessation of modern technology. I’ve met with other world leaders to warn them this effect will not be limited to the United States and to help them plan accordingly.

  “Our country has survived for two hundred and thirty-seven years, has weathered wars and economic hardships, and it will survive this. I will do everything in my power to keep this country together and thriving. Starting next week, I will do weekly radio broadcasts to update everyone who can hear on our progress in restoring communication to the rest of the country.

  “These United States will continue to spread a message of peace and democracy for another two hundred years, and we will continue to be a beacon of hope for the rest of the world. This is not our last Thanksgiving, but our first as an awakened people.

  “Gods bless you, and Gods bless the United States of America.”

  She bowed her head briefly and left the podium.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  General Aldea and another man took her place at the podium. The press was about wetting themselves trying to get their questions in.

  “Wait,” I said. “Is that Arduinna?”

  The man standing next to Aldea didn’t have green hair or green skin—and was a man—but he bore a striking resemblance to my father’s enforcer.

  “Do you want to hear the press questions?” Isaac asked, hand on the remote.

  “Not really, but I should listen.”

  “I need to get back to the meal,” Florence said. “Let me know if anything earth-shattering happens.”

  “I’m the only earth-shattering thing happening around here.”

  The questions posed by the press to General Aldea and almost-Arduinna were exactly as I would’ve guessed had someone told me I’d be watching a press conference where the existence of supernatural entities had been outed, and a new eschatology announced. There was little substance to the questions. Most concerned the nature of vampires and werewolves and how to kill them. The General neatly deflected these questions without giving any concrete answers that would endanger the supernatural communities then deftly returned to the important matter of preparing the world for the continued magical disruptions.

  One reporter seemed not to be giving in to panic. “Where will the next gate open?”

  The general stepped forward to answer. “I don’t know. No one does.”

  “But you evacuated St. Louis ahead of the disaster there.”

  “There were signs ahead of time, but all we currently know is when, not where.”

  “Will you announce the next location ahead of time as well?”

  “Once we know where it will happen, we will make that information available to the public.”

  “Did you know before the Black Hills disaster?”

  “We had enough warning to divert most air traffic. I expect we’ll nail down the location about a week before the disaster—or gate opening—rather.”

  The reporter wrote this down, and then noticing no one else had their hands up anymore, she asked another question. “You have called these events ‘gate openings.’ If gates are opening, what’s coming through? And where do the gates go?”

  The man I thought was Arduinna stepped forward. “That is an excellent question. The short answer is that as far as I have seen, nothing has come through any of the gates.”

  “But where do they go?” the reporter persisted.

  “Since we know of no one coming through and I haven’t been through one of those gates, how could I know?”

  If this was Arduinna, she must be nervous. She was usually better at not-lying.

  The reporter was not blown away by her not-so-subtle prevarication. “You haven’t answered the question.”

  Aldea stepped forward again. “I believe the gentleman said he didn’t know—that no one knows.”

  “Actually, he didn’t.” I couldn’t see the woman’s face, but I saw the set of her shoulders and watched her straighten her spine. She knew she was on to something and wasn’t going to let it go. “I would like to ask again. Where do the gates go?”

  Aldea and his companion exchanged a glance before Arduinna—for lack of a better name—nodded slightly. I wondered if the general—a powerful old vampire—was taking orders from my father or if they were following a previously planned course of action.

  Arduinna leaned forward, “It is the belief that the gates go to a different plane inhabited by other supernatural creatures who are linked to, but not of, this world.”

  The reporter leaned back and scribbled something in her notebook. She looked up again. Everyone stared at her, waiting for her to say something else. She glanced around the now-silent room.

  “Mr. Greenwood,” she said, addressing Arduinna, “Is it your belief that this country, this world, this plane of existence, will be destroyed as these gates are opening? Is this step one in an upcoming genocide of the human race?”

  I saw Arduinna’s shoulders relax infinitesimally. This line of questioning was one she was comfortable with. “I can assure you with 100% confidence, there is no intention by any large group of beings, whether of this plane or another, to annihilate the human race and destroy this world. I cannot speak for every creature that exists, but there are no plans that I, or the President, or General Aldea are aware of that would result in the end of this world. Things are changing—and changing rapidly—but I believe the end result will be humans, and earth-based supernaturals, and other-worldly beings living side by side in relative harmony. The other beings may be different biologically, but they still carry the spark of what you would call humanity. There will be no war for supremacy on this plane.”

  I almost applauded. That was well done. It almost made up for her awkward missteps earlier.

  The press conference wound down quickly after that, and I clicked off the television a few minutes later.

  “Well?” I asked Isaac.

  He shrugged. “They did a decent job. I’m glad Aldea was there to tell the lies. It would have been awkward if Arduinna had announced Savannah was the next site. I’m surprised there haven’t been more attacks on you.”

  “Me, too, but I’m trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.” I thought about that for a minute. “Why would you look a gift horse in the mouth? And what purpose does it serve not to do that?”

  Isaac laughed, “I have no idea, Princess.”

  “Do you know what time Florence is planning on serving us Thanksgiving Dinner?”

  “As soon as the sun goes down.”

  “Oh my god, I am going to starve to death before then.” I clasped my arms over my aching midsection and moaned theatrically.

  “Fortunately for all of us, there are snacks. I’ll be right back.”

  Isaac was gone for less than ten minutes and returned bearing a plate of sandwiches. I ate several and drank about a gallon of water before I felt sated.

  “I’m going to go help Florence,” Isa
ac said. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

  “The service is fantastic, but I’ll survive a few hours on my own. Does Florence need me to do anything?”

  “She requested you stay as far away from the kitchen as possible.”

  I pouted. “I am not that bad!”

  Isaac kissed the top of my head. “You are magnificent.”

  I grabbed the remote and turned the television back on. There were only two channels, and they were both replaying the President’s announcement. I turned off the TV again. I was bored. Which was ridiculous. I wondered where Raj was and whether he was awake. Maybe he’d come hang out with me, and we could talk, and he could flirt with me. I grabbed Isaac’s cell phone and texted Raj. “Are you awake? Come over. I’m bored. EM.”

  I waited a few minutes before giving up. Noon was not the best time to ask a vampire over for a playdate, whether or not he was immune to the sun. Maybe I would read a book. Or take a bath. Or both.

  I started the bath water and dumped in a generous amount of lavender bath salts. Then I rifled through the short stack of books that had begun to accumulate in our room. Isaac, Raj, and Florence were all voracious readers, and the longer we stayed in one place, the more books appeared. I enjoyed a good book as much as the next normal person, but didn’t feel quite as passionate about the whole endeavor as my companions. I settled on “The Handmaid’s Tale,” as a comfort read. I was fairly certain no matter what happened, our new future would not be quite that dystopian. I stripped and slipped into the bathtub. I read for a while until my eyes grew heavy. Then I placed the book carefully on the floor, slid down into the water, and closed my eyes.

  I woke with a jolt some time later. The bathwater had left tepid behind a long time ago, I was covered in gooseflesh and was shivering. I pulled the plug with my toes and stood up just as the door opened. I’d flamed my hands before I even had a chance to see who’d surprised me in my bath. My throwing knives were lined up along the tub, and my sword was unsheathed and leaning against the toilet. I would not be caught unarmed again. The intruder cleared the bathroom door, and when I saw who it was, I let the fire in my hands die and grabbed a towel.