Forest Moon Rising (20 page)

“You make it sound like magic,” Donna said. Clearly she didn’t believe in magic. Dark hair, trendy dark-framed glasses, her designer maternity jeans and turtleneck proclaimed her professional social situation. Raquel said she was an accountant.

I needed her to believe in magic before the evening was over.

“It was magic,” Raquel butted in. “I know our science oriented society, our churches, our
logic
tell us that magic and dark elves don’t exist. We all have proof it does.” She cupped her swollen belly for emphasis.

“I can’t believe our doctors didn’t put two and two together,” Donna continued.

“Did any of you have the same doctor?” I asked.

They compared notes and shook their heads. Only two of them had even been in the same hospital. Squishy encountered one in the ER and the other in the psych ward. No connections except a bit of skin that sloughed off barklike scales. Allie was even now trying to track down the other postpartum hysteria patients.

“What can we do?” Michelle asked. “How do we fight magic?”

“You don’t. I do,” I replied.

Four sets of puzzled eyes riveted on me.

“Believe her,” Raquel said. “She knows what to do.”

I wish I did. “Michelle and Annie, are you in a position to uproot and move out of town? As far away as you can get.”

“I can,” Annie said. “I telecommute. I can work anywhere.”

“What about your husband?” Caroline asked.

“I’m not married. I’ll take a loss on my house if I sell now, but I can move. You think that will keep my baby safe?”

“I’m not certain. But I think so. The Nörglein seems desperate. That means he’ll make a mistake. If he has to chase you halfway across the country, he’s vulnerable. But he only takes the children after their second birthday. You’ve got a little time.”

“My husband just lost his job. I suppose we could make an excuse to go live with my mom in LA,” Michelle said.

“I’m not going anywhere. I intend to fight this guy,” Raquel said. She sat straight, chin jutting in determination. “I’ve already started self-defense classes. As soon as I deliver I’m taking up martial arts. JJ is too. We’re going after him every chance we get.”

“Let’s back up a moment.” I needed to get away from the idea of these women aggressively hunting the monster. Danger lay on that course, for them, not the Nörglein. “Annie, you said you weren’t married. How did the Nörglein trap you if he didn’t impersonate a husband?”

“I was hiking, alone. I had a backpack with essentials, so I didn’t panic when the paths just disappeared. I dug out my compass and headed downhill. But it rapidly became uphill and the damn compass started swinging round and round, never settling on a direction.”

“Then you blacked out and didn’t remember anything until you walked out at the trailhead the next morning,” I prompted her.

“I thought I just slept in the lee of a hollow log. When I woke up, the path was back in place, straight and clear.”

“What did you think when you turned up pregnant?” From the quivering chins and rapidly blinking eyes I knew I ventured into territory these women didn’t want to remember. “I need to know, Annie. The Nörglein varied from his usual MO by taking an unmarried woman. He’s from a different era and culture. He feels that what he does is okay because he has the enchanted cooperation of a husband.”

“I ... have a couple of boyfriends. I figured that when I got a little tipsy one night not long after my night in the woods I’d been indiscreet enough to overlook an essential condom.” Annie flushed with embarrassment. “When I went looking for the one I thought I remembered, I discovered he’d left town two months before the ... um ... incident.”

“Something is wrong for the dark elf to go out of pattern twice. Once with you and once with Raquel,” I mused. “I need to do more research.”

“And we need to arrange our next support group meeting. With the men in our lives. And we need to find the other victims. I’m certain we aren’t the only ones.” Raquel said.

They set about arranging it.

I decamped to the balcony to think. No moon peeking through the clouds tonight to suggest a silver river that marked an ending and a beginning.

Why had the dark elf varied his pattern? A pattern that had worked well for centuries.

What had changed beyond women thinking for themselves and refusing to be treated as tradable property?

F
IRST THING THE NEXT MORNING after my PT session, Allie went off to meet a realtor and look at houses closer to her new job.

“Alone at last,” I sighed, sitting back on the reclining sofa with a cup of coffee and soft new age music on the satellite. I looped a huge rubber band around my foot and pushed against it until my leg straightened. I had to pause at ten and take a sip of coffee, then again at fifteen. Building up to fifty stretches was going to take some time.

“Good thing I am alone. I’d hate to have Allie see me sweating and panting after so little exertion.”

You’re never alone, dahling,
Scrap reminded me. He perched on top of the flat screen, dangling his pink boa in front of it.

“You’re leaking feathers, Scrap. Shall we go shopping for some new accessories?” I knew I needed to bribe him.

Only if you look for a necklace to go with the matron of honor dress.
His skin brightened to pale green. He lusted after something at the mall.

I considered the route to my destination and picked a convenient shopping center for the ride home.

He fluttered up and down, exercising his still recovering wings. His skin took on an emerald green hue.

All the better. Whatever he wanted was really important to him. Almost as important as my true errand.

Engaging the clutch in my car was a little awkward at first. I jerked and stalled my way out of the condo parking lot until I found the right pressure with my weakened left foot. By the time I hit the freeway entrance half a mile up the road my muscle memory took over and I shifted smoothly.

But I did keep my speed down to the limit.

Hey! Why’d you turn off onto I84?
Scrap bounced to the rear window, staring at I5 retreating in the distance.
You can’t get to the mall from here.

“On the way back,” I reassured him.

“You’ll see.”

No, Tessie. Absolutely not. We can’t go there alone
. Scrap planted himself on the steering wheel, between me and the window. I could see the road perfectly well through him.

“You reminded me, not too long ago, that I’m never alone. I have you. You are my backup, the eyes in the back of my head, and my weapon of choice.”

He sulked into an even more invisible white. He looked like the chat room walls.

“Are you okay? That color scares me!”

“So? What else is new? This can’t be any worse than entering Lady Lucia’s lair when I had a groin pull. She was serving smoothie Marys that night. I hope Mary recovered after donating the blood for the drinks.”

Half an hour later, I pulled into the graveled parking lot of Cooper’s Furniture. The open sign was in the window, the blinds were up, and the house behind the store looked well maintained and occupied.

“They aren’t expecting us,” I whispered.

“You think he works here?”

Scrap clung to my shoulder as we moved from the car to the shop. A cowbell the size of a ten gallon barrel bonged loudly when I opened the door. The clapper sounded again when I closed it behind me. No echoes or reverberations. The heavily padded sofas and recliners artfully arranged in conversation groups absorbed the sound.

I felt like I’d walked into an elite salon. Graceful lamps and silk flowers accented the expensive furniture. Highly polished woods reflected the light, making the interior of the building look much brighter than the gloomy exterior suggested.

The light made the sales floor appear three or four times as large as it should be.

Maybe it was.

A tall, dark-haired woman looking near my own age glided out of an office area, separated from the floor by walls of glass. She hesitated only half a heartbeat when she saw me, then continued forward. Doreen Cooper, my former sister-in-law. I guessed that naming girls in the Damiri tribe held true as for boys. Doreen, Dillwyn, Darren, Donovan, all started with D and ended with N.

Made for a lot of confusion when they all jokingly referred to each other as D.

The Coopers also held true within their family by giving all the children B middle initials. Which one of them was the infamous D.B. Cooper, the first to hijack a plane demanding ransom money? Back in the early ’70s he became a kind of folk hero in the Pacific Northwest. Not really a Robin Hood, but he put the screws to a major corporation, exploiter of the masses, and got away with it. At least that was the feeling when it happened.

Distinctive white streaks at Doreen’s temples, running the full length of her magnificent mane of hair down to her waist, stood out like beacons in the darkness.

She looked thinner, more drawn in the face than she had a few weeks ago.

Her tasteful red suit hung loosely. She’d lost weight recently. Not as much as she’d probably like, but her figure had more definition today, less flab.

Stress had aged her a bit. She looked forty instead of thirty. She’d undoubtedly lived several decades (or centuries) longer than I had.

Scrap had seen her at High Desert Con, arguing with Donovan. I hadn’t noticed her, so I couldn’t tell if the changes in her had taken place before or after that.

I still wondered if she’d actually argued with Donovan, or if the Nörglein had worn that form as a disguise.

“Doreen, just the person I need to see about some new furniture.” I strode forward, hand outstretched in greeting, with more confidence than I truly felt.

“Oh?” she said with a superior sniff. “I see you’re finally out of that hideous cast. Still weak though, Teresa?” She didn’t offer to shake my hand. Her gaze lingered a little too long on my slight limp.

“Tess. Only my mother called me Teresa, and then only when she was really angry.”

“Yes.” A long, pregnant pause. “So, what does a Warrior of the Celestial Blade want with a known demon establishment? Come to murder us in broad daylight, like you did Dill?”

“Huh?” I’d held her brother in my arms as he gasped his last breath with fire riddled lungs. The fire started in the middle of the night while we slept. “Dill was murdered by one of your own. Darren Estevez had a heavy hand in that. You acknowledged that when we met a couple of weeks ago.”

A pattern of selective memory loss, similar to what the Nörglein’s victims suffered.

Her sharp inhale caught in her throat as color infused her face. She coughed, turning discreetly to the side. “So you killed Darren in revenge.”

She clung to the implanted memories. I had to break through that barrier. For her sake as well as my own.

“No, I did not murder Darren Estevez. Donovan’s girlfriend did that.”

“Aren’t you ...?”

“Nope. He sleeps with a lot of women. Including Lady Lucia, the vampire crime boss of Las Vegas. You too?”

She had the grace to blush. “I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. Then he turned up again a few weeks ago. We fell into dating.”

“WindScribe did the dirty deed against Darren. Then Donovan knocked her up. She’s incarcerated in a heavy security insane asylum. My aunt is raising their daughter.”

“Oh.” Her mouth formed the word, but no sound emerged. Then she coughed again. “We were told differently.” Understanding began to brighten her eyes.

I bet you were, sweetie. These guys embroider the truth with lots of twists and curlicues,
Scrap added.

I noted he hadn’t bothered to light his cigar.

“I’ve decided to refurnish my condo and thought of looking here first. Keep it in the family, so to speak.” I broke eye contact with her and scanned the delicate Louis XVI style dining set.

Doreen’s gaze shifted to my left shoulder where Scrap sat. He wrapped his tail around my throat tightly, only partly for balance. I sensed new heat coming from him as his skin pinked.

Oh, yeah, this woman was a demon, but so far not a threat to us.

“What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.

Double angled question

“This looks nice,” I said, wandering over to an early American styled dining set in honey maple. Round table polished to a mellow gloss, four captain’s chairs in the same wood. The price made me blanch.