Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he room faded, walls fell away. We were surrounded by massive, ancient trees. The moon—not neon but full and white and pure—shone down around us, lighting the forest, the grasses we sat upon, the arc and jut of leaf and branch.

Flower petals tumbled from the star-speckled sky—roses, mountain laurel, blue bonnet, sage—blending with the scent of juniper pine on the air, creating a heady perfume.

It was a spell. It was more.

Sorrow, hope, a plea.

The song lyrics spoke of missing a lover, but the spell spoke of missing the moon, missing the full pure light—and of missing family, home, life.

They had lost someone.

That realization hit hard, and I knew it was true. They had lost someone they loved, and now they were bearing witness, promising worship, and asking for blessing and guidance as they tried to right this terrible wrong.

This dance, this spell wasn’t about trapping us. It wasn’t about me and Lu at all.

It was for Abbi. It was for the moon deity.

Abbi was there, somehow now in the center of their dance, perched on a small hill, the dancers circling around her.

She was still the Abbi I knew—a young girl with the huge eyes and a round face—leaning so far forward over her knees and watching them all so intently, it seemed she’d topple.

But she was more than just a girl. She was a rabbit, strong and lean, both midnight and moonlight, her long ears lifted and turning, her eyes jade green.

Hado was there too, a shadow in man shape, a shadow in cat shape, a shadow in rabbit shape, toad shape, guarding, watching.

As the dance went on, I caught glimpses of another child, a ghostly image, maybe four or five years old, being guided gently from dancer to dancer.

The child was a phantom, a memory of a girl, pale, dark haired, expressionless. Her eyes, when the moonlight touched them, were blood red.

As the song came to an end, silver tears tracked down Abbi’s cheeks.

The witches sank down to their knees, hands lifted toward Abbi. In their hands were flowers, leaves, stones, fruits, and yes, cookies.

Abbi stood. The forest was—impossibly—still a forest. Silent.

Light surrounded her, a soft, green power that grew.

In that light she was rabbit, swift and strong and magic . “I understand,” Abbi said. “I’ll do what I can. I promise you we all will.”

Lula sighed. “Shit.”

I shook my head, but didn’t speak. Lu reached for me, found my right hand. I squeezed. Whatever Abbi had just promised us into, we would do it together.

“Now,” Abbi said, “let us be where we are.”

The forest dropped away. The sky, the night, the soft wind, gone.

I shifted on the hard chair at the table, leaned back, and crossed my arms over my chest, wincing as I forgot my injured left wrist.

Abbi was still out on the dance floor, because of course she was.

The witches—men, women, and others—gathered closer around her, each taking a moment to touch her outstretched hands, leaving the gifts of flowers, leaves, fruit, and cookies in a basket at her feet.

Then they calmly returned to their seats, chatting as if they’d just had a nice lunch social.

Cassia bent and picked up the basket.

Abbi spun toward me and Lula. “We should help them.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Why?” Lula asked.

“I don’t think…” Cassia said.

“Just listen,” Abbi said, catching Cassia by the wrist and tugging her to our table. “I know you’ll want to help. It’s about a little girl.”

Abbi pulled chairs out for both of them and waited for Cassia to sit before clambering into the other chair. “Now we can all talk about it,” Abbi said.

“Why do you need our help? Who is the child?” Lula asked.

“We don’t need your help,” Cassia said. “This isn’t your business.”

“You wanted our help back at the motel,” I said.

“Well, yes. But that was before the Moon Rabbit offered hers.”

“I promised all of our help,” Abbi said.

I couldn’t hold back my sigh.

“Does she not speak for you?” Cassia asked me.

“We’re family,” I said with a shrug.

Abbi made a happy sound.

“Of course she speaks for us, even,” I added, giving Abbi a look, “when we’d prefer she ask us first. You told us you and your people would find the thing we are looking for. Does that still stand?”

Cassia nodded reluctantly.

“You also told us you know the vampire who attacked us years ago,” I said.

“No, I was wrong about that.”

That was a lie. Lu stilled beside me.

“I would prefer the truth.” I held the witch’s gaze. I didn’t know what she saw in mine, but she broke first.

“I wasn’t wrong about it,” she said. “I told you that—I lied on purpose—so you would come here. So you would bring the Moon Rabbit here. But I don’t want to complicate things. You,” she pointed at me, then Lula, “are complicated.”

“And you don’t think Abbi is?” Lula asked.

“Oh, I’m not,” Abbi said. “I mean, I’m not what I look like, but I’m super simple.”

Abbi might think she was what she seemed to be—an adventuresome, slightly silly, sugar-loving child—but I’d seen her march alone into battle against an army of Hush and walk away without a scratch.

“Who did you lose?” Lula asked.

Cassia startled but covered it quickly.

“It was in your spell,” Lula went on. “Who is the child you lost, and why are you asking Abbi to get her back?”

“That is not your concern.”

Abbi touched the back of Cassia’s hand.

“You need them, Elder,” she said. “You don’t think you do, but I can see. It’s why you came looking for us. It’s why you fixed Brogan’s arm. It’s why you invited us here.”

Jerry put on a new song with a slow beat that reminded me of distant thunderstorms. The other witches chatted and sipped drinks, eating a variety of surprisingly normal bar foods. Most of them turned to sneak glances at our table like we were newlyweds at a reception.

They wanted to join us but, out of respect, were giving us space.

Cassia sat back. After a moment, she waved at the man behind the bar, and he strolled over to the table. He was slight, but muscular, a single streak of white cutting through his short, dark hair from just above his pierced eyebrow.

“We might as well order,” she said. “I know I need a drink. Wine, please, Stratton. Moon Rabbit?”

“Do you have grass soda?”

“I’m afraid we don’t,” he said.

“That’s okay. Do you have something with cherries in it?”

“That, I can do.” His gaze flicked to me.

“Beer,” I said. “Dark, if you have it.”

“We do. And you?” he asked Lula.

“Wine. Whatever red you have.”

He nodded. “Would anyone like something to eat?”

“More cookies?” Abbi asked.

He grinned. “Pru should be back in a minute, Your Glory.”

“Oh.” Abbi smiled wide.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Water for Lorde,” Lula said.

“Lorde?”

“Our shepherd.”

That got a short chuckle out of him. “Of course we’ll get her some water. Would she like the beef bone I have back there?”

Lorde sat up, her fuzzy ears turning toward him. She whined softly.

“Yes,” Lula said. “Thank you.”

He turned back toward the bar.

“He called me Glory,” Abbi said. “Did you hear that, Brogan?” She flashed a big smile. “He gave me a name!”

“You have a name,” I said. “Several of them.”

“Yeah, but I like that one. Abbi Glory.” Hado popped out of the backpack in her lap and mewled up at her.

“That’s not your name,” I said.

“It could be.” She settled Hado on her shoulder. “Abbi Glory Gauge,” she whispered. She blinked up at me, her expression asking for my permission. Asking to use our last name.

I pursed my lips and leaned toward her as if sharing a secret.

“That is a good name,” I said. “But right now we need to deal with the promise you made to the witches.”

She turned to Cassia. “Tell them about Rhianna.”

“This isn’t easy,” Cassia said. “We’ve…we’ve made mistakes, many mistakes. Some because we didn’t have the information we needed, and decisions…that were made in the heat of the moment. You have not found us at our best.” She grimaced then seemed to gather herself.

“We’ve lost more than one person. We’ve lost two of our coven. One is my son, Variance. The other is his daughter, Rhianna.”

Lula nodded and I relaxed. This was familiar ground, and we were good at it. We’d searched for the lost before, searched for Abbi, for Hado. It was part of the deal we’d struck with Cupid—find the lost people, bring them back to who or where they called home.

But Cupid was not behind this, as far as we could tell. He wasn’t a part of this promise or bargain.

Stratton strolled over, handed out our drinks, then placed a bowl of water and a bone with meat on it on the floor for Lorde. He patted her head and made himself scarce.

I tried the beer. Cold, hoppy, and bitter in all the right ways.

“Do you know why Route 66 is so special?” Cassia asked. “It isn’t just because it helped build a growing country. It’s been a way that people, and many other things, have traveled. To explore, expand. To find home. Magical things have always moved along the Route,” she said. “Monsters too.”

“Like vampires,” Lula filled in.

Cassia lifted her wine glass in both a toast and an acknowledgment that Lula had gotten it right.

“They’ve settled here. A lot of vampires. But we’ve settled here too. We’ve found a way to live in…well, not in peace, but not at war. They stay out of our town and territory, and we stay out of theirs. It’s been that way for nearly a hundred years.”

“But now?” Lula asked. She hadn’t touched her wine. She just turned it slowly by the stem, never once looking at it.

“The leader of the vampires—Dominick—has always been vile. He was turned vampire by something powerfully malevolent. He carries darkness that unbalances the flow of the universe. A darkness we have combated and held off for decades.

“One of us, Variance,” she added, “made a mistake. He was fool-hearted. He thought he could confront Dominick and force him to ease off of our territory.”

She gulped wine, her hand shaking, red staining her pale lips. “He didn’t know, couldn’t know the consequences of his actions. Couldn’t know the horror he would invite into our home.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“Here,” a man said. But it wasn’t a man who stepped out of the shadows, it was a vampire.

He looked like he was in his late twenties. His hair was a deep, chestnut brown, his eyes lighter brown, his skin still darkened from a tan that was sure to fade.

He must not have been turned very long ago to still have a tan.

He was also the same vampire who had broken my wrist.

“The hell,” I said, fighting the urge to put myself between Lula and him, to grab her and Abbi and run.

“My son,” Cassia said. “Variance. Yes, a vampire. Now you know. Do you still want to talk with us? Do you still want to give us aid?” It was a challenge. A dare.

“That’s the one who broke my wrist,” I told Lula.

“It was a mistake.” He held up a hand. “I thought you were stalking Franny and the Moon Rabbit.”

Lula hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked away from Cassia. “Why is he here if he brought horror into your home?”

“May I sit?” He hadn’t taken another step. But I knew how fast he could be. Faster than Lula. Certainly faster than me.

I thought about the stone in my pocket, the one that belonged to the demon. I could draw it out now and take the risk of releasing whatever magic it held.

Lula must have known what I was thinking. She brushed her fingertips on my knee.

“Sit,” she said, as much of an invitation as the vampire could expect.

He made a point to move slowly, to move at an exaggeratedly leisurely human speed.

He held my gaze in that unblinking way of vamps.

“I don’t like you,” I said, just to get it out there.

“Fair. I apologize for breaking your wrist.”

I grunted, because I was not used to apologies from monsters.

Only then did he make eye contact with Lula. They were both silent, unbreathing, sizing each other up. Variance was still, his body falling into the razor angles of a predator scenting prey.

No, a predator recognizing danger.

“Variance,” he said, in introduction to Lula. “Of the McClellan Coven.”

“Lula Gauge,” she said like he should have heard of her. And really, he should have heard of her.

“I thought so.” He leaned forward, lowering his head in a slow bow. “I’ve been looking for you, Lula Gauge.”

I could feel the surprise in her, the shock at his deference, but Lula didn’t move a muscle. “Why?”

“I sent the hunter to find you. To offer you a deal.”

Now I officially hated everything about this.

“Unless someone gets to the point,” I said, “we’re leaving.”

Abbi sniffed. “Don’t be more mad now. They still need our help.”

“I don’t give a damn—”

“They lost a little girl,” Abbi said. “Are you so mad at vampires and that stupid hunter that you would let a little girl die?”

No. I didn’t have that in me. If a child was in danger, I would do what I could to help. I knew Lula was the same.

“Yes,” Lula said, and it hit like a punch. “We are that angry at vampires. The child isn’t our problem.”

That wasn’t like her. She’d never turned away from helping an innocent before. I reached for her hand, but it was knotted into a fist.

“You don’t mean that,” Abbi said. “She doesn’t mean that,” she told Cassia.

“She’s my daughter,” Variance went on. “She’s been vampire bit.”

Lula made a sound, and I squeezed her wrist.

“Did you bite her?” Lu’s voice was level, but I could hear the anger there, the horror that a child had endured such an attack.

“No,” he said. “Dominick.”

“We can save her,” Cassia said. “We think it isn’t too late to save her. We can return her to a human, mortal life if we find her soon. We will do that even if you refuse to help us.”

“How did this happen?” I asked, horrified. “How does a child pay for her father’s mistakes?”

“He called her,” Variance snarled. “She…she could not…” The words dried up and his eyes flooded red.

“He was angry,” Cassia said. “Furious that Variance had challenged him. We didn’t know he had captured Variance. Didn’t know until Rhianna slipped away to him, answering a call we could not block. Then. Could not block then. We didn’t know how strong Dominick had become. What he could do from his throne.” She lifted her glass and took another sip. “We are all at fault.”

“Did Dominick come here?” Lula asked.

Cassia shook her head. “Never him. His lackeys have tried to break through our magic, our boundaries. At first, we were not up to the challenge.”

“Six people died,” Variance said.

“Yes,” Cassia snapped. There was a pause, a silence between them. “We have grieved.”

“It’s not enough,” Variance growled.

“We will continue to grieve,” Cassia said, her voice rising. “But we must go forward while Rhianna still has time.”

“You want revenge?” I asked the vampire.

“I want justice,” he countered.

“By us killing Dominick?” Lula asked.

“No.” He turned to her, and his smile was deadly. “I will kill that horror. But before I do, I need your help stealing something from him.”

“Is it the book?” Abbi asked.

He shook his head, gaze locked on Lula. “It’s my daughter, Rhianna.”