Blame It on the Moon Page 5

  Then Dylan gave a loud snort, and I saw Jordie’s worried expression. The girl’s arms were wrapped securely around Tempe, supporting her as she slept—I hoped to the gods it was just sleep. Had Phoebe totally screwed up and not saved two with her actions, but doomed all three? Had she had a choice? I just hoped she knew what she was doing. There was going to be one irate Jack Lang to deal with when we got to Harmony, and human or not, the man was fierce when his loved ones were threatened.

  Jordie stifled a sob but a tear leaked over her lashes. Phoebe glanced in the rear view mirror and said, “Tell me about your basketball team, Jordie.”

  I looked from Phoebe to Jordie. I didn’t remember Phoebe being interested in anything like basketball. She was always surprising me, from her decision to separate from Dutch and their children to the split-second move she’d made to save Aurora. I admired her, but sometimes I questioned her judgment.

  Older beings had a tendency to lose their connection to the earthly world, and I had wondered if the only thing keeping Phoebe and Dutch grounded on this plane, and sane, was River and Tempe. In their case, sane might have a different definition, like saner than Zeus… Was it devotion that made them leave their children at a young age, or flights of immortal fancy? Time would tell. As would her motivation for her consideration to Jordie now.

  Jordie had finished bringing Phoebe up to speed on her basketball activities when we arrived at Harmony. I couldn’t tell if Phoebe had been listening to Jordie or just trying to distract her. Seeing Jack’s cruiser in the driveway, Phoebe asked, “So, Jordie, you say your team wasn’t winning until your father took over as leader?”

  “Coach,” Jordie corrected. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, pride on her face and in her voice.

  Phoebe merely glanced out the window at Jack and nodded.

  So that was it, the whole conversation was like a background check on Jack. Figures.

  Jack

  Oh for a time machine, or a portal…

  I didn’t like what I saw when the SUV turned into the drive. They’d left in Dylan’s black vehicle with him driving but now Phoebe Pomeroy was at the wheel. I spotted Jordie in the back seat and recognized the look on her face. Fear.

  Hurrying to the vehicle I jerked the rear door open as soon as it rolled to a stop. An unconscious Tempe lay against Jordie in the middle of the back seat, with Jordie’s arms around her to keep her from falling. One glance into the car told me things were much worse. Dammit.

  “What happened?” I asked Phoebe when she opened the driver door. “Tempe was getting better.” Montana strode around the vehicle carrying a limp Aurora in her arms. Dylan was snoring in the back seat.

  Phoebe placed her fingers on Tempe’s throat, then Aurora’s, then scanned the lightening sky, spending several long seconds studying the moon. “Get them inside, Lang, I’ll get Dylan.”

  Orders, before I even got my answers. I grit my teeth and leaned inside looking my daughter over. “You okay, baby?”

  Jordie’s eyes were solemn as they traveled from Tempe to me.

  “Here, I’ll take Tempe.” Across the back seat Phoebe was slapping Dylan on the face trying to revive him. It didn’t work. In a smooth move a fireman would have been proud of, she leaned him over her shoulder and slammed the back door with her hip, taking off for the house.

  If the situation had been at all amusing, the sight of the small black-headed woman dwarfed by the body of the big PI over her shoulder would have been ludicrous. But hell, this was Destiny. Ludicrous was its middle name.

  I didn’t bother to lock the SUV but looked over my shoulder, not liking the feeling I had that we were being observed. Then I saw Conor flying over, and relief surged. I hadn’t realized until just now how much the dragon’s presence was going to matter. We were in for it. I just didn’t know what it was. My feelings for Tempe were growing by the hour along with the fear that I would lose her.

  We had twelve hours to go until the moonrise when according to Aurora and the others, the Para-moon would be officially over. Oh, for a time-travel machine or one of those portals Aurora had joked about.

  And another hero or two.

  Chapter 7

  Jack

  Faeries love dragons…

  The inside of Tempe’s old house looked like a triage unit. I had planned to take Tempe to her comfortable bed but I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, so Phoebe opened the big sofa couch and we laid Aurora and Tempe there. I found a cot in River’s room, which we set up for Dylan.

  Montana stomped off into the kitchen, ticked over something. Phoebe was checking the three Paramortals’ vitals repeatedly. Finally with an exasperated breath she pushed to her feet and walked to the big window overlooking the swamp. Tension vibrated throughout the room in waves so thick I doubted Conor’s sword could cut it. I followed Montana into the kitchen. If I were going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, I’d have better luck with Montana, who was, of all things, unloading Tempe’s dishwasher.

  That just seemed wrong. I could barely imagine Tempe doing something so domestic, much less Montana. But domesticity was obviously not her aim. It looked more like an exercise in control, or if that didn’t work, annihilation of Tempe’s dishware.

  I watched as she meticulously set a plate on a teacup, a knife across the cup, and other pieces until she had a tall precariously balanced tower. She seemed dangerously calm until she slammed open a drawer. I winced, expecting the stack to come crashing down in a hail of glassy splinters. Maybe that’s what she’d wanted.

  She wrung a dishtowel between her fists until I heard the fabric give and she was left holding two halves. “Hmmph.” She leaned forward, resting her hands on the counter. I wasn’t sure if she had conquered the demon or if she was about to lose it, and I still didn’t know what was wrong.

  “Montana?” I asked in the voice I reserved for mad dogs and armed perps.

  She made a sound that sounded like a frustrated groan. “Montana,” I raised my voice, not worried now about her overreacting given the extraordinary reflexes she had. “What’s wrong?”

  I heard her clearly, though she didn’t turn around. “I don’t know,” she said through gritted teeth. “I hope nothing’s wrong, otherwise, I might have to take off a friend’s head.”

  My fists clenched and tension skidded down my spine. “What happened at Aurora’s?”

  Montana placed one of River’s amphoras on top of the four-foot high stack of dishes, and it stayed there. Why wouldn’t she just explain? Her gaze went from me to something beyond. I turned.

  Phoebe leaned against the doorframe looking like she needed its support. Oh no, not her, too. “Mrs. Pomeroy—”

  A long exhale deflated her like a balloon. “Montana, unstack those dishes before you break them.” She looked at me, “Jack, it’s very human, and kind of you to treat me with so much respect. You may not feel so inclined after you hear what I’ve done.”

  A shiver of dread went through me. I frowned at Montana. Phoebe turned and went back to the living room. Montana set the dishes down in smaller stacks, looking relieved, then held out her hand. “After you.”

  Tempe’s mother was seated beside Tempe, taking her hand to check her pulse, then retaining it. I could see the toll on Phoebe was as much emotional as physical. These were her oldest friends, and her daughter. We were wrong, including Tempe, if we’d thought she didn’t care. She’d probably lost her ability to hide her feelings due to the Para-moon or maybe—I shuddered—maybe it was because she was facing…losing Tempe. The change in Tempe since returning from Aurora’s scared me shitless.

  Phoebe took a difficult breath and closed her eyes. The seconds ticked off while she meditated. My patience had reached its limit when she opened eyes that were focused and clear. She glanced at Montana who’d settled into the armchair near the kitchen door.

  “Montana thinks I screwed up, Jack,” she said with no condemnation or inflection to her voice. Her eyes were fixed on Tempe as she continued. �
�The truth is, she might be right.”

  I couldn’t contain a groan, my hands gripping the edge of the door.

  “I attempted what I did at Aurora’s based on the knowledge that Tempe would have died without the healing infection introduced by the Naga’s snake charm. You saw for yourself, she was gaining ground.”

  “I did, so what the hell—”

  Phoebe’s voice rose. “I may be ancient, but I’m not omniscient!” The confidence didn’t last. Her shoulders sagged. She regarded me intently before asking, “You love my daughter very much don’t you, Lang?”

  I cleared my throat, tried to swallow but my voice cracked. “I do. I don’t want to lose her—”

  She nodded. “I know you probably think Dutch and I made some poor choices, but as I said, we don’t have the gift of sight and even Aurora thought our plan would work.”

  Gesturing with one hand she added, “Actually, it did work. It… I just didn’t know it would hurt my children so, especially my dear Tempest who took on all the responsibility.” Her voice trailed off but after a quick look at Tempe, she resumed.

  “When we arrived at Aurora’s we found her extremely ill, with I think only minutes to live. I planned to share Tempe’s healing charm with her.” She shook her head and raised her hands, her expression speculative. “Who would have been able to predict that Dylan would have the wherewith-all to interfere the way he’s digressed. But he did. He jumped between Tempe and Aurora thinking I was going to hurt Aurora, or Tempe, I suppose. The charm entered him. We saw it. Before he could react I grabbed his arm and transferred it to Aurora.”

  My eyes locked on hers. “And now you don’t know if you’ve split this charm into three pieces, or killed it.”

  Phoebe sighed. “Aurora is still alive—”

  “Yes, but Tempe and Dylan are worse,” I gritted, not able to keep the edge out of my voice.

  Phoebe didn’t respond for a minute, then said, “Paramortals don’t usually become so ill during the coincidence. They simply lose their supernatural powers. This Para-moon was much stronger and more unpredictable. There is a positive aspect to that though.”

  My voice was sarcastic when I said, “Please, enlighten me. I would treasure some positive aspects.”

  From her tight expression she was struggling for patience with me. “Imagine, Jack. If it was so difficult for us to predict the Para-moon’s arrival and strength,” she said holding my gaze, “then you can be sure our enemies had the same problem. This would have made their ability to plan an attack difficult, wouldn’t you say?”

  Everything went still inside me when her words sank in. I realized this was one of the reasons we hadn’t seen a full-scale attack—the one I’d been expecting since last night. I was encouraged, as she’d known I would be, that our enemies had been taken by surprise as well, and hadn’t had their strategy or their forces ready.

  I regarded the woman in front of me with new respect. “Do you know who or what the enemy is? What we’re up against, specifically?” I looked down at Tempe for a long moment and swallowed. “Has anyone ever…” I didn’t want to ask the next question but she anticipated it.

  “The only Paramortal we lost last time…” her eyes scanned Dylan’s length on the cot, “was Dylan’s father.” Pain washed over her face, and she blinked tears away.

  I couldn’t get over the feeling that she had more of a connection with Dylan than just as a friend. “Did you know his father?”

  “Not that well,” she said. So that wasn’t it.

  We looked toward the window as a long high squeal ripped the morning air from the swamp below. Distracted, Phoebe said, “That creature doesn’t belong here, but so far it hasn’t attacked anyone…has it?”

  “It nearly killed Dylan,” I reminded her.

  “Perhaps it was acting out of self-defense,” Phoebe said, returning to her care giving.

  I said, “I was asking about what to expect. I need to plan…” Phoebe was studying me, then she glanced at the other room where Jordie had gone. “Your daughter says your coaching is the reason her team won the playoffs. She said you got an award for the best defense.”

  I frowned. Phoebe and Jordie in a discussion about basketball? It didn’t compute. She said, “Don’t look so surprised. I was a mother of little leaguers at one time.”

  And that was impossible to imagine.

  Phoebe said, “You may think that Para-moon only happens every few centuries, Jack. But there have been periods when they came a few decades and even a few years apart.”

  “That’s comforting,” I mumbled.

  “That’s why the only sure plan for Chaos is an active defense, preparation and smart counter-measures.” She smoothed the covers up over Tempe’s shoulders and narrowed her gaze on me, her voice serious. “Having a plan is well and good, but each Chaos is different. You shouldn’t always expect some epic battle like you see in your movies. You can count on the fact that by moonrise, we will return to normal, but it will be gradual, just as our abilities diminished slowly prior to the power-down.”

  She was right. We’d been expecting the Paramortals’ abilities to just turn off at the arrival of the coincidence, but it had begun earlier. Montana had been unable to produce fire from her dragon form, and Aurora hadn’t been able to see the future and had aged rapidly. Dylan had nearly drowned because he’d been unable to shift, and Katerina was running around like a mad man-eating lion somewhere.

  I sat down next to Tempe. It was difficult for me to acknowledge the changes in her. She had transformed from a feisty suspect who’d escaped from my cruiser by unlocking the doors with her zapper, to a powerful storm-wielding Tempestaerie, and now she lay seemingly at death’s door.

  “What happened last time?” I asked reading her expression carefully.

  She laughed humorlessly. “Ah, now that was a battle. The Aretuu made their first assault just after moonrise and they didn’t surrender easily. They’d had time to gather many factions and temporarily make a pact to work together toward one goal, the annihilation of the Bright Faeand Paramortals. But they are never able to agree or fight as one for long. Eventually, they beat themselves. And Dutch let them.” Thoughts of her husband brought a smile.

  She seemed to remember where she was then and said, “No life is expendable, Lang, for you see, that is at the main thrust of our Pact, and each situation has the potential to wreak havoc. This,” she pointed to the Tempe, Aurora and Dylan, “is one situation.

  “Para-moon is the best time to kill Paramortals when they are weak or disabled. Consider what it would mean to lose three Paramortals. It would dramatically upset the balance between good and evil, more today than in the past.” Her gaze drifted to the window.

  “That creature in the swamp, the shmoo Conor is dealing with—they are all a part of it. I can’t do much but watch over Tempe, Dylan and Aurora, but I can tell you, and Montana, what needs to be done now.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I knew defense was important, as Phoebe had said, but manpower was as well. Ridge Romano, owner of the Knights Production studios in Larue, had once volunteered some top-secret resources to me. He’d been responsible for many advances in bionics, and with drones in his classified Army lab, and his consortium was making the newest technology in prosthetics available to wounded vets at no charge. I hoped he would still be willing to help when I explained our situation.

  Phoebe turned to Montana. “This will not be an easy meeting for you, dear. I know how the Faefeel about vampires.”

  Montana threw her head back with a groan. “You want me to go talk to Petre and Arabella?”

  “It’s a necessary formality, Montana. Take the knight if you can. They love dragons.”

  I walked to the window hoping to see the big dragon lighting in the backyard between the house and the swamp. What I saw made me wish the big plate glass window would open so I could call out a warning.

  Freddie stood at the edge of the swamp. Directly in front of him was the
blonde woman we believed was the monster in the swamp, the thing people had been hearing at all hours, the being that had tried to drown Dylan. It didn’t appear to be threatening Freddie yet, but maybe he didn’t realize what it was. “Hell, Fred,” I said and ran for the swamp.

  Chapter 8

  Jack

  A fae—my biggest clue?—she was naked.

  I took off at a run, making it out the front door and halfway down the slope before the woman let out an ear-busting scream and dove into the water.

  Surprised, Freddie spun around, red faced—and I was surprised to find—angry. “Why did you do that? Couldn’t you see we were having a serious conversation?” His fists were bunched at his sides as he turned to watch the swirling waves move away from the bank.

  “What you’re doing is dangerous, Fred.” Then, what he’d said registered. “What do you mean a conversation? That thing—”

  “She is not a thing!” Agitated, Freddie scrubbed his hands through his light brown hair. Her name is Vivie. Well, that’s my nickname for her, but she likes it. Her real name is Le Vouivre des quatre éléments. It means ‘lady dragon of the four elements’. I think.”

  My eyes widened. A French lady monster? Had to be some kind of fae—my biggest clue—public nudity.

  “Since when did you start communicating with non-humans, Freddie?” I asked.

  Fred blinked. “Uh…I don’t know.” He scratched his head and thought about it. “Maybe since…today? I didn’t realize that. I wonder how that happened. I’ve never even owned a pet.”

  That was pretty sad but more than that, I wondered if Freddie had had a pet, would he have been able to talk to it before now? Unlike our Paramortals he seemed to be experiencing enhanced abilities. What did that make him? Maybe he was some kind of low ranked FaeParamortal that was bound by spell. But wouldn’t he know about it? Wasn’t it like part of a being’s heritage? Give it up, Lang. You are so out of your element.