Leashing the Tempest

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Authors: Jenn Bennett

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Praise for the Arcadia Bell novels by Jenn Bennett

KINDLING THE MOON (book 1)


Kindling the Moon
rocks like AC/DC on Saturday night. This book has it all: great writing, action, romance, a strong heroine, a unique hero, and the best teenager ever. I can't wait for the next one.”

—Ann Aguirre, national bestselling author of
Enclave
and
Outpost

“The talent pool for the urban fantasy genre just expanded with Bennett's arrival. This is an impressive debut, which opens the door for a series that promises to be exceedingly entertaining. . . . Plenty of emotional punch, not to mention some kick-butt action.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Bennett creates a world that is interesting and all its own. . . . Her characters are crafted with precision, and the writing is so good that readers won't be able to stop themselves from becoming invested in the story. . . . One of the best series openers I've read.”

—
The Spinecracker

“Debut author Jenn Bennett takes the familiar ideas of magic, demons, and mythology, and she gives us something sexy, fun, and genuinely unique in
Kindling the Moon
. Arcadia Bell is a sassy, whip-smart addition to the growing pantheon of urban fantasy heroines, and Bennett an author to watch!”

—Kelly Meding, author of
Trance
and
Changeling

SUMMONING THE NIGHT (book 2)

“Look out Mercy, Rachel, and Sookie, the urban fantasy genre has a fierce new heroine in Arcadia Bell! Bartender and magician Cady made her mark on the genre with 2011's
Kindling the Moon
and with
Summoning the Night
she is rightly taking her place alongside some of the big names.”

—
All Things Urban Fantasy

“Bennett quickly establishes that her terrific debut was no fluke, delivering another riveting tale featuring gutsy renegade magician Cady Bell. Bennett does a stellar job blending character development with plenty of supernatural mystery and peril. A series for your keeper shelf!”

—
RT Book Reviews,
Top Pick

“Bennett provides the reader with a tremendous story that flows smoothly, characters that feel as though they are sitting next to you, descriptive imagery that makes the setting seem real, all delivered with a spot-on thread of humor that adds to the narrative. . . .
Summoning the Night
, like
Kindling the Moon
before it, belongs in the hands of all urban fantasy and paranormal romance readers.”

—
Bitten by Books

I
t didn't seem like the sort of boat that got lost at sea. But what did I know? I'd been on all of two boats in my twenty-five years, and neither was remarkable.

This, however, was a sexy luxury yacht: gleaming metal, glossy white hull, polished wood deck. It bobbed in the sparkling water at the end of the pier, putting the other fishing and diving boats to shame, like a high-end sports car parked in a row of rusted-out pickup trucks. Lon had chartered it for the afternoon, and though it was a little windy out on the pier, it was sunny and beautiful. A near perfect November day. A good day to live in central California.

“I can almost see the name of the boat.” Jupe strode across weathered dock boards, leaving Lon and me behind as he craned his neck for a better look. “
Baba Yaga
? Like the movie?”

“Like the Russian fairy tale,” I said.

“Oh,” he said in disappointment. “Is this a Russian boat?”

“I'm not answering stupid questions today,” Lon said in a deep voice, which, much like his personality, was eternally even-keeled. A brisk afternoon breeze carrying the salty tang of the Pacific rustled his shoulder-length golden brown hair, which, combined with his roguish pirate mustache, faded T-shirt, and lean, muscular physique, gave him an Aging Surfer vibe. But the reserved way he held his six-foot frame in check and the wary squint of his perpetually narrowed eyes made strangers think twice about approaching him.

Brown spiral curls bounced as his lanky fourteen-year-old son turned around to face us. “What did you say?” he shouted at Lon.

“Your dad is selling you to a Russian family,” I called back. Several people milling around the pier gave me the stink-eye.

“Fine by me. That means you have to start taking out the garbage, though.” Jupe absently swung a cooler in one hand as his steps quickened. His wispy spring green halo was barely visible in the afternoon sun. “Oh, man. Check out the deck. Hurry, Cady.”

Dream on, kid. I wasn't doing any hurrying. I had the weekend off from my Tiki bar, and Lon promised me a relaxing three-hour cruise down the Big Sur coastline. See some whales. Eat some fabulous food that Lon's housekeepers had packed. Soak up some sun and be perfectly lazy.

Lon and I had a few of other motives for the trip. One of them was to grant my best friend and co-owner of Tambuku, Kar Yee, a chance to get to know my new family a little better—and vice versa. Kar Yee had volunteered to be Jupe's test subject for the afternoon, allowing him to do a little experimentation with his blooming demonic ability. And when I say “volunteered,” it's more like Jupe had finally worn her down with his
please-please-please
begging.

Really, it seemed like a full-immersion, crash course in getting to know my family, so I hoped she wouldn't live to regret this decision, or I'd never hear the end of it. She'd already texted to complain about the half-hour slog from the city to the coast, but I hadn't spotted her car when we drove up.

“She's late,” Lon noted, either reading my emotions with his demonic empathy, or noticing my fidgety glances around the boardwalk as I searched for her.

Kar Yee was never late. “She's here somewhere. Considering the insane amount of money you're paying the charter company, I think they can hold the boat for a few minutes.”

He grunted a reluctant reply.

“Cady!” Jupe motioned widely with one long arm, beckoning us like he was directing concert traffic into a twenty-dollar stadium parking lot. He pointed at painted script across the side of the fishing boat next to our chartered yacht:
Silver Girl.
“Check it out. That one's named after you,” he said, giving me a goofy grin.

Even though I was human, I had a silver halo, setting me apart from both the halo-free humans and the typically green-and-blue haloed Earthbound demons that outnumbered them in this seaside town. The wispy cloud of silver light hanging over my head frequently got me curious looks from Earthbounds—they could see mine, and I could see theirs—but humans are color-blind, so to speak: they can't see halos, and most of them are oblivious to demons walking among them.

I'm an exception, having been born with preternatural sight. It's one of the things Earthbounds and I have in common. My unparalleled ability to bind them with magick is what sets us apart. Just not far enough apart to stop me from falling for a demon almost twice my age, apparently . . .

As we passed the fishing boat and approached our chartered yacht, a middle-aged Earthbound with long blond hair limped across the polished deck and leaned on the rail, looking down at us. I'd never seen anyone so tan. His hair looked a little thin and stringy, but he classed it up with a bright orange bandana wrapped around his crown. He might've been David Lee Roth's shorter, fatter, older cousin. “Afternoon. I'm Captain Christie. You Butler?”

Lon lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

“Dispatcher said you were a famous photographer. I was hoping you might be bringing some models onboard.” He grinned at Lon, then glanced at me. I could almost divine his thoughts: pretty, but not beautiful; average height and weight; long, dark hair spoiled by the rebellious bleached streak at the nape of my neck. Clearly I was no model in his eyes, though I was sure he'd be checking out my ass at his first chance. But for now, all he said was, “Nice halo. Never seen one quite like that before. Where did you—”

Lon, in his economical way of communicating, cut him off midsentence with the facts, and nothing but the facts. “We've got one more coming.”

“They'd better hurry. I'd like to get ahead of a storm heading toward La Sirena.”

Jupe surveyed the cloudless blue sky. “I don't see a storm.”

“A small one just popped up on the scanner.” The captain's leathery cheeks plumped as he grinned down at Jupe. Deep lines etched the corners of his eyes and the space between his sun-kissed bushy eyebrows. “Don't worry. Captain Christie will make sure you have nothing but sunny skies on your afternoon voyage, little man.”

A look of supreme annoyance passed over Jupe's face. I saw his mouth opening and poked him in the ribs to halt whatever retort he was ready to let fly. He checked himself and grumbled under his breath.
“Little?”

But the captain took no notice of Jupe's injured pride and continued on in his oblivious way. “Come aboard. I'll give you a tour while we're waiting on the last passenger.”

The three of us filed onto the yacht, listening to the captain's pack-a-day raspy voice as he took us through a fishing area at the bow of the boat and showed us where life jackets were stored. A larger aft deck stretched over the back of the boat, housing a small dining table and built-in seating that curved around a low table. A nearby ladder led down to a small swim platform.

Lon was considering buying a boat—another reason for our excursion—albeit a much smaller one than this. He owned a nice chunk of coastal land and had already commissioned plans for potential boathouses and docks to get a feel for the overall cost.

What it boiled down to was a whole assload of cash. Not worth it, in my working-class opinion, but hey. It was his bank account, and he wasn't often flamboyant with spending money.

“Little nippy for bikini weather,” the captain said to me as he pointed to long vinyl mattresses flanking the seating. “But these sun pads are nice for tanning, if it warms up down the coast. No need to be shy around Captain Christie—he's seen it all!” He gave Lon a nudge with his elbow as he winked.

Lon's brows knitted into an annoyed
V
. “Captain Christie will not be seeing any of her.”

“Only a joke!” The captain struggled with a smile, but Lon continued to gaze down at him with stoic contempt.

The corners of Jupe's mouth curled as he snorted a laugh near my ear. “This guy's a winner.”

It's hard to reprimand a kid when they're right.

A faint line of light caught my eye on the swimming platform below. At first I thought it was just sunlight, but as I leaned over the rail for a better look, I spotted a thin band of white light running around the hull of the boat like a bow on a package.

Heka. Magical energy.

“You have a protective ward on your boat,” I said to the captain. Sure, plenty of houses and businesses around town were warded with magick, but it wasn't exactly commonplace, and I'd never seen a ward on a boat. It immediately made me suspicious.

“Oh, yes.” He scratched his face. “Just a little, uh, extra protection.”

“Against?”

“Pirates?” Jupe guessed.

“Thieves.” The captain cleared his throat. “Nothing to worry about. Everything's secure and tight now. I haven't had any issues since I had the ward installed.”

“My dad put a ward around our house,” Jupe offered freely. “We had imp problems.”

“Yes, well . . . no imps on the
Baba Yaga.
” He waved us away from the swimming platform. “Let me show you around inside the salon.”

I glanced at Lon, who gave me a quick shrug. As long as we weren't in any danger of getting boatjacked, I supposed it was none of my business.

I put the ward out of my mind as we ducked through a door into the main interior space, a luxurious lounge area where rich teak wood lined the walls behind cream leather wraparound seating. Beyond lay a small galley with basic appliances and a dining area.

“Staterooms are down those stairs. The head's down there too. The toilet in the one up here needs repairs, so please don't use it.”

Jupe whistled as he dropped the cooler. “Pretty sweet. You could almost live here. TV, stereo, video games . . . Look, Cady, this place even has a bar.”

“Oh, boy,” I said without enthusiasm.

“Little to no cell reception once we hit Big Sur,” the captain said. “All that rugged coastline makes for a poor signal. But I've got Wi-Fi in the main cabin, and the password is
Hotlegs,
if you need to use it.”

That was too much for Jupe to handle with a straight face. But the smart-ass comment he was preparing to unleash died on his lips when a familiar figure darkened the doorway to the salon.

Kar Yee's ultra-straight dark bobbed hair was windblown, her aqua halo dim. The Hong Kong ex-pat was dressed in skinny jeans, a long black shirt that clung to her slender hips, and a puffy gold lamé jacket that could've been stolen out of a
Real Housewives
cast member's closet.

“Well, well. Nice boat, Captain Lon. Where's your parrot?”

Her teasing sailed over the real captain's head. “Richard Christie, at your service, madam.” He extended an eager hand to Kar Yee as his gaze dragged over her figure.

She gestured to a box of saltwater taffy in her hand as an excuse for not returning the handshake. “Sticky fingers.”

“Hi, Kar Yee.” Jupe's face relaxed into a loopy grin. He'd been nursing an epic crush on my business partner for over a month now. No matter that she was my age. He'd practically pledged his hand in marriage.

Kar Yee gave him a cat-eating-canary slow grin. “Long time, no see, future boyfriend.”

Jupe made a choking noise somewhere between a giggle and a gag. I think she was the only person in the world who could trip up his cocky swagger.

“Have some taffy,” she said, holding out the box. “I already ate all the peppermint ones.”

Lon took the candy before Jupe could pounce on it. “No sugar.”

Kar Yee brushed off her hands and shrugged.

“You ready to be my guinea pig?” Jupe asked her.

“Bring it on. I was Cady's guinea pig in college. You wouldn't believe—” Kar Yee looked askance at the captain and clammed up. “Never mind.”

“Don't mind me,” the captain said. “You coming into your ability?”

Jupe's mouth twisted. “Just a little voice thing.”

I expected the captain to ask about it, but he was only interested in talking about himself. “I remember when I came into mine,” he said. “I'm a cloudbuster.”

“A
what
buster?”

“I can clear up storms.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Really. Even if you see storms in the distance, you don't have to worry. I can keep storms away for about a mile around us. Sure, I like to avoid 'em when I can, so I can focus on piloting the boat. But you're guar-an-teed sunny skies when you're sailing with me. So whatever you have planned this afternoon, you go right ahead and enjoy yourself. Whatever happens on Captain Christie's boat, stays on Captain Christie's boat . . . No drugs, though. I can't afford to go back to prison.”

“Prison?” Jupe said, green eyes wide with intrigue.


Back?
” I said.

Lon groaned, then exhaled heavily through his nostrils. “Look, we're all here now. Where's your marine biologist?”

“Sorry, he got sick. Just me today.”

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