Moon Chosen

  "Get a hold of her!" Carey yelled at her minion.

  The brute werewolf growled and tried to do as she ordered, but Marge had other plans. I suspected our bar-owning waitress was used to being unwillingly slung over the shoulders of big ugly werewolves. She slipped her legs out of his grip and slid the rest of her body over his shoulder and to the ground behind him, but not before she gave the back of his head a good kick with both of her feet. The werewolf's eyes grew big and wide, and he stumbled forward.

  "Kill her, you idiots!" Carey snapped.

  Before any of the other werewolves could react to Carey's command a dark shadow flew out of the treetops behind us. It swooped down and covered the rear most werewolf in a depth-less shadow. I couldn't see hide nor hair of the mutant werewolf, but I could hear him. His terrible screams and howls came from where he stood, but the darkness blotted out all the R-rated carnage. In a moment the shadow slipped off his body and revealed a sunken, drained corpse of his former self. The werewolf's eyes were wide and sunken, and when the shadow released him he fell face forward onto the dirt. A little cloud of dust flew up and our group was deathly silent, but our shock didn't cause the shadowed to pause. It jumped to the next nearest werewolf and swallowed it in its body. Even these brutes had some survival instincts left in them. They broke ranks and stampeded towards the boats and the plank I on which I stood.

  Erik shoved his shoulder into his werewolf guard and knocked the distracted beast away from him. My mate lunged at me and push us both into the waters. The stampeding, ballistic werewolves trampled the spot where I had just stood as they tried to save themselves from the insatiable shadow that ravaged their rear ranks.

  "Stand your ground!" Carey shouted at her beasts, but they ignored her. Some even pushed her aside, and unfortunately that kept them from trampling her.

  The carnage lasted less than a minute. The boats were manned by normal werewolves, and when they saw the chaos erupt on the shore they put the engines in reverse. Some of the more sentient of the feral werewolves jumped into the water and clung to the sides of the boats. In a moment the boats disappeared from sight leaving only an echo of their engines to tell us they'd been there leaving only the planks and the echo.

  The remaining werewolf guards were quickly dispensed with. As the last one fell to the ground the dark shadow landed on the dirt close beside his final victim. The darkness raised itself onto two legs and my beating heart slowed as I realized our savior was none other than Methuselah. He turned his dark eyes to where Erik and I sat in the ankle deep mud of the lake water.

  "You are indebted to me greatly, son of Cassandra," Methuselah told Erik.

  "I never thought I'd be glad to see a vampire," Marge quipped as she stood to her feet.

  I heard a shallow groan and turned my gaze on the puddle of our enemy. Carey raised herself to a sitting position and looked around in bewilderment. Gone was her majestic and terrifying guard, and in its place was the corpse of half a dozen of the werewolves.

  Erik helped me to my feet and turned his attention to Methuselah. "Why did you help us?" he asked the vampire.

  "Because you needed the assistance, and you would hardly be entertaining to me in a captured state," Methuselah pointed out.

  Marge snorted and brushed the dirt and mud off her clothes. "And you couldn't have done it sooner?" she questioned him.

  Methuselah's eyes flitted to her and looked her over with disdain. "I performed the deed when I chose," he told her.

  She rolled her eyes. "Just like a vampire. . ." she muttered.

  Erik released me and marched over to Carey. Greg was the closest to her, and he grasped her arms and lifted her off the ground. She thrashed and struggled in his hold.

  "Let me go! Let me go right now!" she demanded.

  "As you wish," Greg agreed. He opened his hands and arms. She dropped back onto the soft, muddy shoreline with a satisfying splat.

  Erik stood over her and the rest of us joined him to create a circle around her. Carey looked up and cringed.

  Erik knelt in front of her and looked her in the eyes with a firm, steady gaze. "You will tell us all you know."

  CHAPTER 7

  Carey turned her face away from his gaze. "I have nothing to say to you."

  "You were willing to talk to us when you had the upper hand," Marge piped up. Carey scowled at her, but said nothing.

  "What do you know about Blackwood's plans for the lake?" Erik persisted. Carey pressed her lips together. "How does Blackwood plan to control the islands when he foments so much discord?"

  She tossed her long black hair at him. "I'm not telling you anything," she refused.

  Erik whipped out his hand and grabbed her collar. He stood and lifted her off the ground, and shoved his face into hers. His teeth were bared and his eyes had a golden hue to them. "If you value your life you will tell us," he warned her.

  She turned her face away and grasped his hand. Her eyes were large and her hands shook atop his. "I-I don't know the full details. Blacky wouldn't tell me everything," she admitted.

  "Then what do you know?" Marge spoke up.

  "Put me down and I'll tell you!" Carey demanded.

  Erik's eyes narrowed, but he set her feet back on the ground. She rubbed her neck and glared at him.

  "I overheard him saying he wanted to make everybody mad at the family in charge of everything and then he'd take over. Kind of like a savior or something," she admitted.

  I snorted. "He'd be that conceited."

  Carey glared at me. "He's a great man. He's got a lot of ideas for this place after this stupid fog is closer to the cities."

  "How close?" Erik questioned her.

  "Real close, like a couple of miles," Carey answered. "That way there's plenty of room for everybody and they can get more girls for the people who work for him." She grinned. "He takes care of his own."

  "Yeah, he's taken real good care of you," I quipped.

  She shot a glare at me. "You're just jealous because you can't stop him."

  "Maybe the fleet's already stopped him," Marge challenged her.

  Carey sneered at Marge. "You honestly think a bunch of sailing ships would be a match for engines? Those things were taken care of before I got here."

  Marge's eyes widened. She jumped forward and grabbed Carey's shoulders. "Taken care of how?" Carey cringed and Marge shook her. "How?"

  "T-they were boarded and captured. I think they're still on the ships, but I don't know," Carey told her.

  Marge tossed Carey aside and Greg caught her. She turned to us. "We have to go right now."

  Erik shook his head. "We can't attack them without a plan. We are outnumbered and, at this time, outmaneuvered." He turned his attention to Carey. "I would also like to know what's changed his mind about me. He tried to kill me the last time I faced him. Why is he so eager to have me once more?" Erik questioned her

  Carey pulled out of Greg's hold and shook her head. "I don't know. It has something to do with your aunt or mother or someone."

  Erik's eyes widened. "My mother? What about my mother?"

  Carey shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't know. Blacky wouldn't tell me."

  "Why should we believe you?" Marge spoke up. "Why should we believe anything you're telling us? Maybe it's all just a lie and your side is losing."

  Carey laughed. "If you think it's a lie then why don't you go to the Den and see?" Marge snarled, but didn't move. Carey grinned. "See? You do believe me. That means you know you guys aren't going to win so you might as well give up."

  Marge growled and jumped at Carey. Carey's eyes widened and she backed up into Greg. He grabbed her and pulled Carey out of Marge's reach as our furious friend tried to grab her.

  "A moment of calm," Greg advised.

  Marge's eyes narrowed and she shook her fist at Carey and Greg. "Calm? Calm is a waste of time when your mate's life is in danger. I won't give up until my mate dies, and if I find that Blackwood's killed him then you'll be the
first to join him on the other side," Marge warned Carey.

  "But he is well. You would know otherwise," Erik spoke up.

  I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "She would?"

  Marge frowned, but her shoulders slumped and she turned her back on Carey and Greg to look to Erik. "He still lives, but every second we stay here gets him closer to being killed."

  "We can't move forward to rescue Captain Black until we find our answers," Erik insisted. "Otherwise we may be running into a trap."

  "I don't know anything about you and your family," Carey insisted. She shot a glare at Marge. "And I'm not lying."

  "We can believe she tells the truth," Greg agreed. "And I may have the answer you seek, my Master."

  Erik turned and scowled at his servant. "What do you know of it?"

  Greg shut his eyes and bowed his head. "Your mother is not who she appears. She is, or rather, was the most powerful witch our clan has ever known."

  Erik started back, and the rest of us blinked. "I hate to be the first one to say this, but huh?" I spoke up.

  "It is true, but perhaps this tale is better for another place," Greg suggested.

  Erik marched up to Greg and pushed Carey aside so they stood chest to chest. "You tell me the mother I have always known is not who she appears and then have me wait?"

  "Yes," was Greg's curt reply.

  "What better time could there be than now?" Erik growled at Greg.

  "This location isn't safe," Methuselah pointed out. "The ships may return and a necessary participant in this conversation is missing."

  Everyone turned to the enigmatic vampire. "Who's missing?" I asked him.

  "The witch," he revealed.

  All our eyes widened.

  "You know where she is located?" Greg spoke up.

  The vampire gave a curt nod. "I do."

  Greg placed a hand on Erik's shoulder. "Your curiosity is great, and for good reason, but wise council is only wise for a moment."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Marge questioned him.

  "It means it will be too late to head it if we don't leave this before the ships return," Erik explained. He pursed his lips and turned to Greg. "Very well, but I will not wait for long."

  "I'm not going anywhere with you guys," Carey refused as she folded her arms over her chest.

  Marge rolled up her sleeves and marched over to Carey. She picked up our foe with one arm and flung the surprised woman over her shoulder. Marge turned to us and grinned. "Let's see how she likes this position," she commented.

  Carey thrashed and kicked in the top marches shoulder. "Le me down!" she screeched.

  Marge turned to Greg and jerked her head at her captive. "I'd be grateful if you could do something about her."

  Greg smiled, bowed his head and stepped over to them. So he stood so that he stood behind Marge and faced Carey. My apologies for what I am about to do," Greg told Carey.

  She sneered at him. "I don't-" Greg swung his fist and connected with Carey's cheek. Her head snapped to the side and her chin fell onto Marge's back. The rest of her body hung as limp as her head and she didn't even twitch.

  "Is she dead?" Marge asked Greg.

  Greg stepped in front of her and shook his head. "No, but she will not appreciate my putting her to sleep when she awakes."

  Marge sneered. "Pity. It might've been better for us if you'd permanently taken care of her."

  "We won't kill our foes when they are at our mercy," Erik spoke up. He turned to Methuselah. "Lead on."

  We followed Methuselah back through the woods on the same trail that led to Hazel's house. Halfway along the path he turned onto a left-hand trail that I hadn't noticed before, supposedly because we'd been marched prisoners-style the last time we came through.

  Marge walked in front of me and stopped at the head of the trail. She turned her head left and right at the looking at the old and new trails. "I don't remember this being here before," she commented.

  Methuselah paused and glanced over his shoulder to look at her. There was a look of disdain on his lips. "There is more than meets the eye in these woods," he commented. "You merely have the inability to see the truths among the trees."

  She glared back at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means that that you were unobservant the previous time you passed them by this way," he replied.

  "Weren't you kind of knocked out?" I reminded her.

  Marge shook her head. "I was over a shoulder, but not knocked out for most of the trip, and I didn't see this path," she insisted.

  "I believe what he is trying to explain is there is magic at work here to which we are not privy," Greg spoke up.

  Marge readjusted Carey's body over her shoulder. Her eyes flitted to Methuselah. "And you can see this magic?" she questioned him.

  "I can," he replied.

  "That isn't important right now," Erik spoke up. "Take us to the witch." His eyes settled on Greg. "There are many questions to be answered."

  We continued on our way down the enchanted path. The shadow of the trees stretched over us as like sentinels. Their branches clawed at our arms and legs. I took in a deep breath and choked on stagnant air.

  "Any way we can get some gas masks back here?" I called to Methuselah.

  "No."

  "What's making the air so thick, anyway?" I asked the group.

  "The forest itself is against us," Greg explained.

  "I don't like the way that sounds," I commented.

  Greg's eyes swept over our surroundings. "I, too, believe that isn't good sign," he agreed.

  "It will not attack you so long as Cassandra's son is among you," Methuselah assured us.

  Erik frowned at him. "Why is that so important? Is it because of my mother's true identity?"

  "Yes. She is the one who enchanted the forest many centuries ago," Methuselah revealed.

  "How do you know so much about all this?" Marge spoke up.

  "After she found me in the cave Cassandra told me her story," Methuselah explained.

  There was silence among our group until we reached an opening in the path. A small meadow was revealed to us, and in the center of the meadow was a group of rocks positioned in a circle. The stones were rectangular and stood two feet off the ground. In their center was a wide, round pit that was as deep as they were tall. Atop one of the wide stone slabs lay Hazel. She lay on her back and her eyes were closed. Her chest rose up and down with a regular breathing movement.

  "What is this place?" Erik asked our guide.

  "This is where Cassandra performed the spell of the fog," Methuselah told us.

  We stepped into the clearing and froze. A creaking noise came from forest shadow. The shadows lengthened and their limbs stretched towards us.

  "Get away from the trees!" Marge shouted.

  We rushed away from the path and to the center of the stones. Marge dropped her heavy load onto the dusty ground and we turned to face our wooden enemies. The trees twisted and stretched towards us like pieces of putty. Methuselah himself stood near the path. The tree limbs passed by him without so much as a tap and surrounded the stone circle, and us.

  "I thought you said they wouldn't attack us!" I yelled at him.

  "They see him as an unworthy successor to his heritage," Methuselah nonchalantly replied.

  "What must I do to prove it?" Erik shouted thought

  "Have faith and have no fear," Methuselah told him.

  Erik stood beside me and I saw his hands fall into fists at his side. He stiffened his chin and stepped towards the trees. He stood proud and tall before the start branches. His firm voice echoed around the shadowed meadow.

  "I am Erik, son of Cassandra, and I demand that you stand down!" he ordered the forest.

  The trees wavered as though indecisive. We all held our breaths awaiting its decision after. After a tense moment the branches slithered back into the forest and the shadows left with them. The trees once again became normal pieces of wood with stiff, unmovi
ng branches.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and slipped onto one of the stone benches. "I think I've had enough adventure for tonight," I commented.

  Marge settled herself on a nearby bench. "I have to agree," she chimed in.

  Methuselah came up to us and I was surprised to see there was a small hint of a smile on his lips. He stopped so he that he stood before Erik. "Your mother would be proud to see you hold some of her skill," the vampire commented.

  Erik frowned. "How did all this come to be? How is my mother the witch who cast the curse of the fog and her barrenness over my people?" he questioned our undead guide.

  Methuselah gestured to stone seats. "I will tell what I know."

  Erik's eyes flickered to Greg. "And you will join him." Greg close his eyes and bowed his head.

  Everyone but Methuselah took a seat on the hard benches. Erik sat down beside me and I slipped my hand into his. He turned to me with haunted eyes and I managed a small smile.

  "I'm sure this will be okay," I whispered to him.

  "We shall see," he replied.

  Methuselah stood in the center of the ring just to the side of the pit. For first time I noticed there was a small stack of unburnt wood in bottom of the hole.

  "I need not repeat the history of your people," Methuselah began his story. "And I only know what Cassandra confided in me. She told me that she was wronged by the chieftain of the werewolf clan. She was blinded with a red rage and cursed the werewolves to be barren of women. No girl would be born to them until the time came when a woman who so loved her mate would sacrifice herself. Only then would the spell would be broken."

  "Then there is a way to break the spell?" Marge spoke up.

  Methuselah frowned at the interruption, but nodded. "There is. Cassandra herself sought to break the spell when she joined herself to the chief of the werewolves."

  "My father," Erik commented.

  "Yes," Methuselah agreed. "She changed herself to a normal human and slipped among the women who were captured. She had herself chosen as the mate of the chief."

  "How did she do this?" Erik asked him.

  "She bewitched the bowl and was chosen," Methuselah explained. "Unfortunately, her use of magic to procure a mate meant the bond needed to break the spell could never exist."

  I held up a hand. "Wait a sec. I know some things about witches, but how powerful are they really? I mean, she's how old and can work what kind of magic?"

  "She is six hundred years old and has a limitless amount of magic potential," Methuselah replied.