Chapter Eight
And the cat and the man who is not really a man will follow the next piece of the puzzle…
Anarion was pacing back and forth across the warehouse’s floor. Jack sighed. The prince hadn’t relaxed for seven days. Jack didn’t think he had slept either. Then Nehemiah had contacted Jack on day two and the prince hadn’t wanted them to rescue Nehemiah’s family. After Nehemiah had told the group what he had done, Jack wasn’t happy about it either. But Nehemiah was determined.
Alicia and the two boys had been saved from two elves who had them tied up in the back of their house. Anarion had been in an unparalleled rage as he questioned the two elves. Unfortunately the pair didn’t know much more than that they had been hired by the Lady Sumrah to keep the humans until her word came to kill them. Then Nehemiah had taken them to the abandoned warehouse in a desolate part of Los Angeles.
There were rats, debris, and a few homeless people who had ran at the sight of Anarion and a group of the High Court’s Royal Guard. There were scattered pieces of wood and gang symbols spray painted on the walls. Broken windows allowed a cooling breeze to course through the yawning building. Someone had left a shopping cart in one corner filled with aluminum cans. But there wasn’t a portal. And there wasn’t Mirie.
The portal was dead. Someone had closed it and spelled it to stay closed.
The Branwyns, the species that controlled most of the portals, were contacted and Anarion bartered with them about reopening the portal. On the contrary they didn’t want to barter about this particular portal because, and Jack almost smiled, it led to a cursed realm. What had made Jack smile was not that it was a cursed realm, but that Anarion had threatened to ‘curse’ the Branwyns if they didn’t reopen the portal because his Amaias was in there. The slender Branwyns had renegotiated but it had been short and to the point. Conversely, the spelled portal had proven to be difficult to reopen. They had slaved over it for days without success.
Consequently, Anarion had been striding the warehouse for the better part of five days, wearing a determined path in the dust of the warehouse. The Royal Guard set up camp in the warehouse and Jack had called in favors with the local authorities to ensure that the police didn’t swoop down to break up whatever illegal things they thought they were doing down here. Even Ridon, the High Court’s principal investigator, had proven his worth time and time again by providing the Branwyns with spells obtained from his long dead mother.
Other Committee agents had come to take Nehemiah away to question him. He had gone without protest, only calling to Jack, “Tell Mirie-tell her I never wanted this.”
Jack had grimaced at the words. He knew Nehemiah should have contacted others in the Committee immediately, or at the very least, those he knew that he could trust, like Jack and Mirie. They would have saved Alicia and the boys first. Mirie loved Nehemiah’s boys and she would have cut the elves into a dozen pieces before allowing them to hurt his family. But Nehemiah’s family wasn’t injured, only frightened, and they would recover. Jack didn’t know what would happen to Nehemiah.
Jack studied the double loading doors where the portal was supposed to be. The pair of Branwyns were conjuring their magicks there, repeating their spells and changing slight variations to see if something else would work. Hell, he wanted to pace too but he wasn’t sure that Anarion would take it the right way. The elf was uber-anxious and ready to take someone apart on general principal, and Jack wasn’t sure if his pacing might seem as though he cared for Mirie in the same way that the prince did.
There was a gentle “Meowrrr,” and a slight little weight rubbed against his leg. Jack glanced down and saw a black and white cat. Gold eyes glimmered up at him expectantly. The little cat began to purr and plump her claws on the filthy warehouse floor. Jack knelt to pet the cat and muttered, “What are you doing here, kitty?”
Anarion paused in his pacing. “Dumbass,” the prince said.
It was such a Mirie thing to say that Jack blinked in astonishment. He looked back down at the cat and the cat winked at him. “Your tushie looks good from down here, too,” the cat said with a feline grin.
Jack stood straight up and grunted. “Asta,” he murmured. “I hope you get a really big hairball.”
Asta stretched and kept stretching until she stood at his side in human form. Fully dressed in t-shirt, jeans and Nikes, she tossed her black and white hair and shrugged. “Hairball, humph.” She indicated the doors with a shoulder. “No luck yet?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Jack said irately, vexed that Asta had pulled the wool over his eyes despite the fact that Mirie had warned him.
Casting him a scurrilous look, Asta tossed a bag toward the Branwyns. It was a little brown bag tied up with a silver cord that looked inconsequential. Jack was wondering where it had been when she was all feline and hadn’t had a stitch of clothing on. The Branwyns abruptly stopped and one said, “Is it-?”
“Yes,” Asta said impatiently. “And you wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get it.”
Anarion appeared beside them and said, “Asta, you’ll have my undying gratitude, if-”
“Forget it,” Asta said promptly. “Your father’s already promised me what I want. And besides I like the little elf witch. She’s saucy.”
“What did the king promise you?” Jack asked curiously.
“None of your beeswax,” Asta said straightaway.
“Okay what’s that?” He pointed at the bag that the Branwyns were immediately putting to use.
“Ground up dragon bones,” she said impishly and a slyly triumphant smile.
“I thought dragons were extinct.”
“In this sphere,” she said primly.
Anarion shot Asta an expressive look. “You went into the dragon’s world?”
“You needed the bones for the Branwyns’ spell,” Asta stated plainly. “I got it.”
The prince nodded at her in a way that Jack thought was regal and grateful at the same time. Poor shmuck, he thought. He’s got it bad for Mirie. Jack wasn’t worried. Wherever Mirie was stuck, she had probably taken over and was ruling as the de facto empress.
The Branwyns unexpectedly cried out in colorful victory. The double loading dock doors shimmered and then exploded with light.
There was another noise that made Jack look at Anarion. The prince’s formerly cold face filled with hope and expectation and desperation.
Oh, yeah, Jack thought. Baaaaad. He’s a goner. And OMG, aren’t elves immortal? Why yes, they are. He shook his head. That shit will last forever.
Anarion didn’t even wait for the royal guard. He dived through the portal and disappeared. Jack shook his head again even as he was pulling his Japanese broadsword out of its scabbard and following. There was a cry behind him as elves followed.
There was an odd incongruity as Jack went through the portal. It burned and caressed at the same time. It seemed as though it lasted forever but was only a second long. One moment he was in a dusty, filthy warehouse with bright LA sunshine flowing through the windows and the next he was in a huge, dim room with statues of beasts bracketing the two fireplaces at each end. Everything looked old and debilitated. Then there was about ten large bodies lying around. Whatever it had been had been white and mean looking, even dead.
Jack took that all in before he bumped into Anarion, who had frozen in place in front of him. Behind him, several members of the royal guard had stumbled out and were fanning out.
The other fireplace had a fire going and Mirie was sitting next to it, roasting what looked like a very large rat over a spit. She didn’t appear uncomfortable or tortured but just a little tired and even a little bored. Sitting next to her was a very bruised and battered Laris, who was looking back at the prince with a very real fear in his eyes. One leg was splinted with old boards and tied with shreds of rotting material and his wrists were bound tightly in front.
From all the
way across the room, Mirie sighed loudly. “It’s been like weeks in this realm. Did you guys stop to sightsee?” She stood up and gestured at all the dead beasts in the room. “Good thing these things respect the ability to kick ass and that they don’t decompose quickly. Did you know that some sorts of shifters are involved in this? They have the artifacts, Goddamnit.”
Anarion made a choking sound. Mirie shut up.
Jack grinned broadly. Then he wasn’t sure but he thought he blinked because suddenly Anarion had Mirie enveloped in his arms and they were kissing as if trying to devour each other. They had met somewhere in the middle of the room, and were murmuring to each other against their lips, things that Jack really wished he didn’t have to hear.
“No consorts for you,” Mirie said firmly and Anarion pulled back to grin happily down at her face.
Beside him, Asta sighed wistfully. “I get to be the first godmother.”
“Hey,” Jack said to the Royal Guard behind him. “Get Laris. He’s a bad guy. Let’s get everyone back through the portal before something else happens.”
Everyone moved quickly except Anarion and Mirie. Finally, Jack said, “Time to go, kids. Mirie, toothbrushes and real, non-rat food back in that direction. And beds, too, if you’ve absolutely got to remind me.” He jerked a thumb back at the portal.
Mirie moved her head back from Anarion and sighed with apparent pleasure. “A bed. Good idea.”
Anarion didn’t even waste a moment. He picked Mirie up and darted back through the portal. Jack shook his head again and knew that they’d be gone before he went through himself. He looked around and said, “Anything else here?”
Asta studied the room and the dead occupants. She saw two more human sized shapes under an old piece of drapery and went to lift up a corner. There was a dead elf she didn’t know and Lady Amycate. “I’ve heard boogieman stories about this realm,” she said carefully. “It’s a terrible place and full of the worst curses imaginable. It’s almost a miracle that the Lady Mirie survived this awful place as long as she did.”
“You don’t know the Lady Mirie very well,” Jack smirked. He looked at the bodies and then at the Royal Guard who was left. “Should we take them with us?”
One elf shook his head. “They’ve lost the right to the honor of being laid to rest in the Land of Light. Let them rot here where they belong.”
“It isn’t over,” Asta said as she paused by the portal.
Jack thought of the prophecy that Arisar had left for him. “Not by a long shot.” He took her arm and wondered briefly at the spark of electricity that surged through him at the transitory touch. But even as his mind wandered briefly, he knew that it was up to him to get the Book of the Black Moon and the Eyes of the Amber Moon back and ASAP.
They waited as the Royal Guard returned through the portal and then Jack went through with Asta at his side. He smiled on the other end because Anarion and Mirie were long gone. The prince had teleported out of there with Mirie in his arms. Then Jack smiled crookedly as Asta giggled gleefully.
TE
Look for Part III of the Moon Trilogy in Silver Moon.
About the Author
C.L. Bevill has lived in Texas, Virginia, Arizona, and Oregon. She once was in the US Army and a graphic illustrator. She holds degrees in social-psychology and counseling. She the author of Bubba and the Dead Woman, Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas, Bayou Moon, and Shadow People, among others. Presently she lives with her husband and her daughter and continues to constantly write. She can be reached at www.clbevill.com or you can read her blog at www.carwoo.blogspot.com
Other Novels by C.L. Bevill
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Mysteries:
Bubba and the Dead Woman
Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas
Bayou Moon
Paranormal Romance:
Veiled Eyes (Lake People)
Disembodied Bones (Lake People)
The Moon Trilogy:
Black Moon (The Moon Trilogy 1)
Amber Moon (The Moon Trilogy 2)
Silver Moon (The Moon Trilogy 3)
Cat Clan Novella:
Harvest Moon
Shadow People
Sea of Dreams
Suspense:
The Flight of the Scarlet Tanager
Black Comedy:
The Life and Death of Bayou Billy
Missile Rats
Chicklet:
Dial ‘M’ For Mascara
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