Blue Moon (27 page)

His father followed the tiny blonde to the car. She got in, slamming the door hard, then started it. Zorovin hadn't even gotten his own door shut before she threw the thing in reverse and sped down the driveway backwards.

"I know you're here,” he said when they were gone. “I can smell you."

Silence.

"You're sitting on the other side of the door. You've just had a shower."

He heard the door open.

"So, what other tricks do you know?"

He turned so he could look at her. A pink towel wrapped her hair. She had put on jeans and a heavy sweater, and with the towel and her bare feet, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

"I can sometimes cast lightning,” he said. “I was sent, originally, because my people...” He decided not to tell her exactly what his people were. “...thought maybe Sabin was up to something, and I could stop him. I guess in the fight, he got the better of me, that's why I ... er ... forgot everything."

"He did knock you around pretty bad."

He smiled at her. She still hung back shyly, creeping forward only an inch at a time.

"I think the reason I've felt the need to stay close to you ever since you rescued me is because I never really forgot you."

She crouched next to him but didn't sit down. “I always wondered what happened to you.” Her touch on his shoulder was light. “I'm glad you're alright."

"Me, too.” He captured her hand gently. “How's Dashiel?"

"Sleeping in the kitchen. I don't think he slept last night, for watching over me."

"Sleep,” Alex whispered dreamily.

"You look like you could use some."

He nodded. “Yes, that would be nice.” He squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry about Rita. She died protecting both of us.” He explained to her what had happened, and she sighed and leaned against him, telling him where she had buried her sister.

"Do you have another sister?” he asked.

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"Just curious. I mean, I didn't even know about Rita."

"It's funny, how being dead changes you,” she said.

"How so?"

"Well, she didn't really act like Rita at all. She didn't talk the same way. She didn't use any of what I used to think of as her trademark gestures. It makes sense, though. I mean, being dead would sort of take the shine off of you, wouldn't it?"

"You mean dull the personality? Yeah, I'd think so."

Alex felt her fingers, still warm from the water, touch his temple.

"You're drifting off on me,” she whispered. “I think someone needs to take a nap."

He stood and followed her inside the house. She shut the door as he stretched out on the couch. He felt a puff of air as she shook out a quilt; the touch of it settling on him was the last thing he felt as he went to sleep.

Libby stumbled off to sleep in her own bed. She set the alarm so they would get up at noon, a little less than five hours away. As long as it was light, they should be all right. Safe.

She was wrong.

She paced the rooms, aggravated and impatient. She hissed curses at the sleeping form of her bumbling son in the other room. She had already broken and set fire to the crossbow. Damned thing had never been the kind of weapon she favored anyway.

Day was crippling to everyone except her—her and...?

She smiled. She knew there was a reason she hadn't killed her elven guides.

She grabbed the keys and ran down the stairs to the place where her prisoners were kept. Aïs sat in a corner, hugging himself, while his companion was pacing a rut in the cell floor.

"Hello,” she said to them in her huskiest voice. “Are you being treated well?"

"No,” Terisoth said, “we are not."

"I am sorry about that. But, since I saved your lives, you can scarcely be too picky about the accommodations."

"Right,” Aïs sneered.

"But I did,” she insisted. “That little act you witnessed was my way of getting us inside and safe.” She smiled at them, knowing their recollections would be foggy, as she'd taken the liberty of drugging their food and drink. They'd barely touched the food—but both had drunk liberally of the water.

Terisoth continued to stare at her with barely masked suspicion. She smiled at him with all of her charm, and he blinked. She threw her will at them, molded their memories of events more to her liking.

Aïs shook his head then said, unwillingly, “You mean you've managed to escape?"

"Aye,” she said. “They went to some battle last night, and have grown careless whilst licking their wounds.” She rattled cell keys. “Let us flee."

She undid the locks and led them upstairs. They walked with care, although the Black Queen knew no one would awaken until they stood outside the cave, blinking in the sunlight. She turned to them and, pointing at Sabin's Jeep, asked, “Anyone know how to drive one of those things?"

Terisoth grinned. “I can have it hotwired in ten seconds."

"Whatever that means,” she said, laughing. “Consider yourself free to do it."

She jumped in the back, letting Aïs take the passenger seat. Terisoth was as good as his word. He had the Jeep purring like an overgrown monster, and turned it around to head down the hill. She grinned, thinking of how angry her son was going to be when he realized she'd stolen his transportation. Well, he could walk. Especially after last night's failure. She had bigger plans. She would get the Merlin Stone for herself, and show the little fool how world domination was done.

Her directions were perfect. She smiled and stretched lazily as they turned into the driveway, bidding them stop just out of sight from the road.

"I overheard Sabin talking last night.” She spat out his name—not a hard accomplishment since sometimes she could barely believe he was the child she had given birth to. “Some of his followers have found the Merlin Stone. They're hiding in the cabin ahead."

"The what?” Aïs asked.

She paused. She couldn't believe that the elvish educational system would skip such a key issue.

"I know,” Terisoth supplied. “It's that thingamabob that Merlin created to split the worlds.” He looked at the Black Queen. “You mean it's still around?"

"Yes,” she said, nodding as if to a very stupid being. She had little respect for either of them, since they were so easy to trick. “And Sabin has plans for it, which means we want it."

She grabbed a cloak from the back. Sabin had bought it for her from some specialty store in town, and it smelled overmuch of some sweet perfume. She wrapped herself in it, and when they looked at her, wonderingly, she said, “My hair is like a beacon. This cloak will disguise me."

"Too bad you don't have your crossbow anymore,” Terisoth said.

They cut through the woods. A small mound of freshly turned dirt greeted them halfway through. Terisoth felt drawn to it. He knelt, and touching it, willed himself to feel whatever resonance the body below had left. He found it, dull and sickly, fading into the ground that surrounded the body.

"That's right,” the Black Queen said. “They no longer had any use for her, so they killed her."

"They went to an awful lot of trouble burying her,” Aïs pointed out.

Terisoth ignored him. Rita had not meant much to him, in truth, for he had only known her a scant few hours. It was that he had been taught in the way of the elven warrior. His duty was to protect the weak, to stand between the helpless and those who would do them harm, between those being used against their will and the people who would use them. He felt he had failed, and the stain on his honor burned like coals in his heart. Rita had been forced to do the evil one's bidding. It had been Terisoth's job to free her.

"I am to blame,” he said, “I am ashamed, and sorry."

"That's nonsense,” said Aïs. “If they truly hated her, why would they have taken such care? Look at the ring of stones."

"Who can decipher the ways of the evil ones?” Bronwyn said, reaching out and touching Terisoth's shoulder gently. “I am old, have been among the people and without human interference, and therefore have the power to see things far beyond you. The one who murdered that poor child is near. I will point the way, and you may wash your honor in their blood."

Aïs snorted.

"He must,” she insisted, looking into Aïs's eyes. “Else she will haunt him always."

"Come on then,” Aïs said. He held his staff tightly, having refused the Shadow creatures’ weapons. “Let's get this stone and be done."

Terisoth stood and drew his sword. It was a Shadow Creature's blade, light and slender but quite deadly. They crept up to the cabin and onto the porch. Bronwyn placed her ear against the wall. She smiled brightly.

"They sleep like the dead after last night's fighting."

"What trickery is this?” Terisoth asked. “They have bound the door with iron."

"Many of his minions are human,” she pointed out.

Aïs's frowned at the door. “Something is not right. I don't know..."

She hissed at him, and wrapped her hands in the cloak. The spell she was about to do would drain her considerably. If her oaf child had done his job last night, she'd have been saved much pain. She closed her eyes, focused.

The door exploded inward, peeling back on its hinges. She screamed, for the iron reacted, casting its cold strength against her. It had not held, but it would punish her for her impertinence.

The two elves had already charged in, so they did not see how she was stripped of her camouflage, how her hair turned to brown, how her form changed. Wrapped in her cloak, she stood, shivering.

A lanky, brown-haired man jumped up from the couch, tangled in a quilt. Terisoth stopped when he saw him, his sword raised.

"Even his kind can be suborned by evil,” she warned from the doorway.

"I suggest,” the man said as he stepped away from the couch, “That you leave here now. I have nothing against the elven kind."

"You have the Stone,” Aïs said.

She looked at him, wondering if he was not as firmly under control as she thought.

"Which is better than you having it,” a woman said from the bedroom doorway. She wore only an overlong sweater, her auburn hair tangled by sleep. She carried a fireplace poker but no box.

The Black Queen looked at the dragon. His magic was dried up to the point where his bones hurt. He had overstretched, and would be as useful as a fistful of sticks.

He eyed Terisoth warily. He shrugged, and said, “I'm sorry,” before turning his back on Terisoth and tackling Aïs to the floor.

Libby couldn't sleep. She took off her clothes and curled up on her bed. Her book kept intruding on her thoughts, which annoyed her, because it was done. When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed sections of it.

The masked ball was magnificent. It was a pity she would not be able to spend more time, admire the costumes that made the dancers around her into fanciful beasts.

She waited until the ninth hour. Everyone had taken some wine, all the guests were relaxed and occupied. She crossed over to the staircase, and when no one was looking, she climbed them.

The music faded as she walked slowly down the hall. Earlier she had mentally marked Lord Fabrisham's room. She knelt before the keyhole and listened carefully. Nothing. She knocked on the door, listened again. She slowly turned the knob, but as she expected, it was locked. She took a set of picks out of her decolletage and set to work, keeping her ears open. The lock was ridiculously easy, and she was soon in, closing the door shut behind her just as steps passed down the hallway. She sighed softly, and began looking for the valise.

"Is this what you're looking for?” Hearing his voice, so close to her, yet as far away as the stars, shook her. She turned to face Lord Drake, and knew her orders, to be ready to kill to keep from getting caught, were not orders she could carry out.

He was holding the scroll case in his left hand. With his right he grabbed her arm. “Who are you? And why are these papers so important to you?"

She struggled, and the pendent fell out, the sapphire colored stone blazing in the cool moonlight. If anything, he seemed to grow angrier at its sight. “Where did you get this? He threw the scroll aside and pushed her against the wall. “If you hurt her I'll..."

He took the mask in his hands. She reached up and undid the tie, then kneed him in the stomach as hard as she could.

It was not the pain that stopped him. It was seeing her face.

She grabbed the scroll case from the floor, came up with the knife in her hand.

"Elsa,” he said dully, holding the mask in his hands. He looked shattered, like some cherished illusion had been broken forever.

"I'm so sorry, Damien,” she whispered. “You can never understand..."

"Those people you're working for ... Elsa, they're evil."

"No, you're wrong. I wish I could prove it to you. Please trust me. I'm taking this scroll to a safe place."

She climbed onto the sill, and leapt. She rolled down the soft hill, grateful that the guestrooms were only a story and a half above ground.

She stood up, and ran, looking back only once. He did not give chase, but stood at the window, her mask in his hands.

When she climbed into the carriage, Sophia was waiting for her. “You've got the scroll! But oh, you silly girl, you've lost your mask. I had that made especially for you."

"I'm sorry,” Elsa said softly, then began to weep, bitterly, and could not seem to make herself stop.

There was a crash, and Libby jumped out of bed. She heard voices in the living room and panicked. The poker she grabbed felt reassuringly heavy in her hand as she opened the door.

Two elven-looking men, one practically holding a sword to Alex's throat. She had let her guard down too much, it seemed.

Alex sighed then apologized, which Libby thought was just plain weird, before leaping at the one who had spoken of the Stone, leaving his back completely unprotected. She ran forward, leaping over the back of the couch, and felt incredibly proud of herself for landing squarely, not tripping over the covers thrown on the floor. Sword met poker with a dull ring, and she tried to remember about sword-fighting. She'd read a book on it for the sake of research years ago, and she'd seen a few sword fights on TV.