The Waning Moon Page 33

  “Help her!” Isaac yelled.

  And then everything went crazy. A huge burst of energy shot from the gate straight up into the sky and burst like the grand finale of an expensive fireworks show, made even more impressive by how bright the show of colors appeared at noon.

  A last rush of energy flowed through me to close the gate, making it inaccessible again until all the gates were opened. The force holding me aloft let go, and I tumbled gracelessly to the ground. Every muscle hurt, but none more than my heart.

  I climbed to my feet.

  “Freeze! Hands up!”

  I turned around. A SWAT team stood in front of me with every one of their big, scary guns pointed directly at my person. Of all the things I’d tried to anticipate going wrong, getting shot up by the cops hadn’t made the list.

  I raised my hands slowly.

  “Drop your weapons.”

  “I cannot drop my weapons if my hands are up. May I lower them?”

  “Don’t be a smart ass, just do it!” someone barked at me.

  I lowered my hands and pulled the scabbard over my head. The Fae melted quietly into the trees, apparently deciding they weren’t there to guard me from humans. Once I’d set down my sword, I removed my knife sheaths from my arms and thighs. As I dropped the last one to the ground, I heard a cry behind me. Without thinking, I turned to see what was making the noise. Before I located the source of the noise, I heard a gun discharge, and a bullet tore through my body.

  “Fuck,” I said, and then I collapsed.

  My awareness returned, and with it came burning pain in my left shoulder. I tried to open my eyes, but it was a few moments before that endeavor was successful. Fluorescent lights, industrial yellow paint on plaster walls, and an IV line leading from my left arm. I used my superior powers of deduction to determine I was in a hospital. I tried to move, and a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. I wiggled my right arm experimentally, as that was the one that hadn’t been shot. I was handcuffed to the hospital bed.

  “She’s awake.”

  The first person through the room was a medical assistant. He took my vitals and checked my bandage. Before he finished, the room started filling up. A doctor, a nurse, and more police officers than seemed necessary for a gunshot victim who was handcuffed to a hospital bed. Of course, since I was a victim of a police shooting, and had been shot in the back after disarming, I supposed they might want to make sure I wasn’t dead. Or maybe they wanted to finish the job.

  “Water?” I croaked.

  “Ice chips?” The MA handed me a cup.

  The doctor checked me out while asking questions about mobility.

  “What happened?” I asked once my throat was sufficiently moistened to produce intelligible speech.

  The doctor answered, “The bullet lodged in your shoulder, and we had to remove it. Fortunately, it didn’t hit any major arteries and other than the hole in your shoulder didn’t do any significant damage. I thought you’d be healing by now. Don’t your people heal faster than this?”

  “My people?”

  “Werewolves.”

  “I’m not a werewolf.”

  “She can’t be a vampire,” one of the detectives said. “She was shot outside in the middle of the day.”

  “I’m not a vampire.”

  “Witch, then,” someone said.

  “I am not a witch.” I hoped they wouldn’t ask me what I was.

  “Maybe she’s human.” Every eye in the room focused on me, and a ripple of apprehension went through the police officers. And then I understood. If I were other, they wouldn’t be in trouble for shooting me because my body was a deadly weapon, whether I could turn into a wolf or cast spells. However, if I were a human, once I’d divested myself of my weapons, I was less of a threat.

  I decided to misdirect before anyone asked me the wrong question. “I’m the companion of a vampire.” I was hoping they would assume that meant I was a Renfield.

  “I don’t see any marks,” the nurse said. I looked up at her quizzically, and she crooked her first two fingers and made a stabbing motion. Heh. Sharp, pointy teeth.

  “Older vampires don’t often leave marks.”

  “Your companion is old?” the detective asked.

  “Old enough to not leave marks on my body if he doesn’t want to.”

  “Will he come for you?”

  “I don’t know. Did you bring in anyone else after you shot me?”

  “We have two women in jail: a witch and a werewolf.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “They’re in jail, which means they weren’t shot,” the MA said.

  I really looked at him for the first time. He wasn’t human but wasn’t advertising that fact. He must be a practitioner. His aura felt young, and young shifters and vamps wouldn’t do well in a hospital.

  “Are my friends okay? What are we being charged with?”

  The officers looked at each other.

  “Don’t we have to be charged with something if you’re going to hold us?”

  “You can be held for three days without being charged,” the detective said.

  “But shouldn’t you tell me what you’re considering charging me with? You don’t arrest people in cemeteries and hold them for three days on a regular basis, do you?”

  “A better question,” the MA said, “is whether they think those laws apply to non-humans and if they believe being supernatural is a crime in and of itself.”

  I looked over at the police officers. They were all carefully not meeting my eyes.

  “How long have I been here?” I asked. I didn’t feel about to collapse into unconsciousness like I usually did shortly after a gate opening.

  “Almost two days,” the MA said.

  “I was unconscious for two days for a bullet wound in my shoulder? Is that normal?”

  “Not if you were human,” the doctor stepped into the conversation, on less shaky ground now. “We surmised you were in a healing sleep or something. We haven’t had much chance to treat supernaturals. But you aren’t healing any faster than a human.”

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “You’ll probably get transferred to the jail infirmary and then charged and arraigned if they’re going to follow the rules,” the MA said.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Ralph, but everyone calls me Ralphie.”

  “Ralph, you are awesome.”

  He blushed.

  I looked over at the officers. “Is that what’s going to happen?”

  “We could charge you with illegal concealed weapons,” one of them said.

  “And illegal discharge of fireworks, disturbing the peace, and public intoxication,” the detective added.

  “Half of Savannah is armed to the teeth, I wasn’t drunk, and I didn’t set off any fireworks—facts I’m sure will be supported by any forensic investigation.”

  “There wasn’t one,” the detective said. “We don’t waste our limited resources on supernatural crimes.”

  So that was the way of it, now. I was exhausted. “What time is it?”

  “Seven in the morning.”

  “I need a nap.”

  Judging by the shadows, it was late afternoon when I woke up again. I was alone in the room but could see an officer outside the door. This was ridiculous.

  “Hello, my sweet,” a voice whispered through my head.

  “Raj! Are you okay? They didn’t mention you at all.”

  “They were unable to arrest me. I have a confession: I gave you some of my blood when you were shot.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “To stop the bleeding and help you heal faster.”

  “The doctor says I’m not healing any faster than a human.”

  “The doctor is lying.”

  I moved experimentally and felt the stabbing pain through my shoulder again. “My shoulder really hurts.”

  “We wanted you to appear human until I could arrange your rescue. It was safer. T
he cops are a little trigger happy. Now that you’re awake, I’ll have the doctor finish healing your shoulder and get you out of there.”

  “What about Florence and the wolf?”

  “They’re being held in solitary confinement and aren’t allowed visitors or a lawyer.”

  “Can you break them out?”

  “Of course. I was waiting until we could all disappear at once. Where are we headed?”

  I concentrated. “Dammit. North.”

  “Anything more specific?”

  “Somewhere with lots and lots of rocks. Mystical rocks.”

  Raj’s mental voice sounded mildly amused. “We’re going north to find magic rocks?”

  “Yep.”

  I must have dozed off because the next thing that registered was someone pulling out the IV line. “Raj?” I asked.

  “No. It’s Doctor Robinson.”

  “Doctor who?”

  “No, although bow ties are cool.”

  I giggled. “You’re funny.”

  The doctor, whom I now recognized as both the doctor who’d attended me earlier and a vampire said, “And you’re more susceptible to the drugs than I thought you’d be. I’m going to remove the iron filament in your shoulder. It’s thin enough and short enough not to have done permanent damage, but it will hurt coming out.”

  “Do it.” I braced myself but still gasped when she pulled out the wire. “Fuck.”

  “It’s out, and you’ll be healed soon.”

  “What’s next?”

  “The Master of Savannah is breaking your compatriots out of jail and should be here within the hour.”

  “What about the cops?” I gestured towards the door where I sensed the life energies of two humans standing outside.

  “Provided they don’t get a call regarding any escaped prisoners, they’ll stay there quietly until I get a text from the Master.”

  “And if they do get a call?”

  “Then they’ll fall asleep a little sooner and with more dramatic outcome.”

  “Are you going to kill them?”

  “I was instructed not to.”

  “So you’re a giver of life and death?” For some reason, the doctor’s cavalier attitude towards murder bothered me.

  “I cannot give life, only prolong it. Taking it, however, is easy.”

  “Easy is seldom right,” Raj said from the shadows.

  “Master,” Dr. Robinson said, genuflecting. I watched her eyes instead of her bow. She didn’t look subservient.

  “She’s not as compliant as she’d like to appear,” I said.

  “But she’s useful, both for her medical skills and her psychic skills,” Raj said. I tilted my head in question. “She’s skilled at glamour and can read minds almost as well as I can.” There was a note of warning in Raj’s voice, and I looked over at the doctor. She looked smug.

  “Fortunately, we don’t need her to be compliant. All she needs to do is to put the guards to sleep before they are notified Florence and the baby wolf have escaped and then cover your tracks.”

  “Remind me again what I’ll get out of this?” Dr. Robinson asked.

  “You’ll be the de facto leader in Savannah after I leave town and will retain that position once the Queen has claimed this territory. But most importantly—to you, at least—you’ll live through this.”

  I seldom saw Raj being his vampire self—the vampire who had lived for a millennium, who had been a prince and a commander of armies, and who was still a commander of a different type of troops. It was scary, and if I was honest with myself, a little arousing.

  Raj flashed a grin at me.

  “Are the terms still acceptable?” he asked, the silk of his voice hiding the violence that was lurking below the surface.

  The doctor gulped noticeably. “Yes.”

  “Then do it.”

  Dr. Robinson bowed slightly and awkwardly, revealing she hadn’t grown up bowing to anyone.

  The doctor moved to the doorway while Raj helped me out of bed. I was as wobbly as a newborn calf and Raj had to steady me until I found my balance. I looked towards the door and saw the men on the other side slump in unison.

  “It is done,” Dr. Robinson said.

  “And the cameras?” Raj asked.

  “On the fritz tonight.”

  “Your aid is appreciated,” I said.

  “Does this mean you’re in my debt?” the doctor asked.

  “No,” Raj said. He grabbed my arm and led me out of the room. When we got to the end of the hall, he scooped me up and carried me into the stairwell. We went from the fifth to the first floor in seconds and then we were outside. I tilted my head up to catch the fresh air.

  “Put me down?”

  Raj complied immediately and when my bare feet hit the ground, I felt whole for the first time since I’d woken up in the hospital. Between the gate opening, being shot, the iron embedded in my shoulder, and spending almost three days out of touch with the earth—I was drained.

  “We don’t have much time,” Raj said.

  “I’m ready now, as long as we’ll be somewhere green and growing soon.”

  “Nature is bad for you. I’m going to miss the cities and smog when this is done. The industrial and technological revolutions were the two best things that have happened in the past thousand years.”

  I held my arms up to him. “I’m ready.”

  Epilogue

  FINN PACED BACK and forth in front of Isaac. The shifter was naked and chained to the wall with silver. The stripes of his last lashing hadn’t yet healed. Isaac’s eyes were closed, but he was not unconscious.

  Finn tried to keep silent, but when Isaac opened his eyes, he couldn’t stop himself. “Guess you’re not so strong after all.”

  Isaac focused on Finn. It was obvious to Finn that Isaac was dazed from the combination of being injected with a score of different types of drugs to see which would keep him compliant and the constant physical torment.

  “What do you want?” Isaac asked. His words were slurred and hard to distinguish.

  “I came to see the beast laid low.”

  “I thought you loved Eleanor,” Isaac rasped.

  “All of this is for her.”

  “This isn’t love.”

  “What do you know? You’re nothing but a fucking animal.”

  “I’m her mate.”

  “It’s not real. She’s a Fae princess. She wouldn’t mate with an animal.”

  “You know her, Finn. You know she doesn’t lie.” The more he talked, the stronger his voice got.

  “Not to me, maybe. But who knows what she’d say to you to get what she wanted.”

  “She cannot lie, you idiot,” Michelle said. Finn started at her voice. “I know enough to know she is a full-blooded Fae and is bound by their magic.” She strode all the way into the room. She resembled a Nordic princess. Tall and willowy with blond hair cascading down her back and over her shoulder. Her eyes were blue ice chips in her fair complexion, and her lips—pursed now in displeasure—were a pink, perfect cupid’s bow. “Why are you here?”

  “I got him for you. I engineered everything.”

  “And our deal was I would have him, and you would be content.”

  “I wanted to see.”

  “You whine. You call him an animal, but you are the sniveling beast. How one this pathetic ever gained the attention of two monarchs and entered the bed of the catalyst is beyond my ken. Go report to your master and get out of my sight.”

  Finn drew up to his full height. “You cannot order me around. I am a trusted servant of the Dark Queen.”

  “You are a cur not fit to fight for scraps under her majesty’s table.” A new voice joined them.

  Finn paled. “My lord.”

  “Her majesty will hear of this.”

  “My apologies. In my zeal to see this animal punished, I went too far.”

  “Yes. You did. Now get out.”

  “You are watching her?” Finn asked, his voice pleading. “
You are protecting her?”

  “I do my duty. Do not make me tell you to leave again.”

  Finn bowed and backed out of the room with the grace of someone who was used to such an awkward stance.

  Isaac was staring at the newcomer. “You? But, why?”

  Michelle laughed. “You did not suspect him? How blind you are.”

  “She trusted you,” Isaac said.

  “She doesn’t trust anyone, not even you.” He turned towards Michelle. “Her majesty is pleased and grants you leave to play with this one for as long as you wish, but requests you leave him alive in case he is needed for leverage in the future.”

  “Requests or demands?” Michelle asks.

  “You learn quickly. It is a request, but one I would adhere to if I were you.”

  “Her wish is my command, then.” Michelle picked up a silver-tipped whip from a table of various leather and silver instruments coated in blood. She hefted it once and brought it down across Isaac’s stomach. He was silent, as he always was at the beginning. Soon, though, he was crying out in pain.

  She laughed softly. “I’m glad I haven’t lost my touch.” She turned around, “You may watch if you like.”

  “Your offer is generous, but I must return to the Midworld before my absence is noticed.”

  Michelle nodded, but her attention was already back on Isaac. “Later, then.”

  About the Author

  AMY CISSELL IS an urban fantasy and paranormal romance writer. She grew up in South Dakota and received her BA in English Literature from South Dakota State University. That degree has carried her far in her career as a financial administrator.

  Her first exposure to fantasy was when she picked up her father’s copy of The Hobbit while in elementary school and an enduring love affair was born. Although Amy reads anything and everything, her first love is fantasy.

  Amy is the author of the Eleanor Morgan series. Visit Amy online at www.amycissell.com, and stay up to date with her on Pinterest, Instagram, Facebook, Goodreads, and/or Twitter. You can (and should!) sign up for her newsletter. In addition to receiving deleted scenes and excerpts from her upcoming releases, you’ll get the newsletter-exclusive serial following the origins and first millennium of Raj Allred—everyone’s favorite sexy vampire.