When Silver Moons Rise (Lost Immortals Saga #2) (2 page)

With a grin plastered across my face, I bow to him. “You are going to be hating life in oh, say, about five seconds,” I say and salute him.

“Is that right,
boy
? Show me what you got,” he challenges and lifts his ax. Several more flatheads surround me. I wait for the others to move closer. All I need is for them to get within ten feet of me for the surprise to work.

“Come on, boys,” I say, “You know you want this.” I ease my left hand down to my schorl, the demon slayer’s official weapon, and hope that all of the alchemy lessons Mabry made me sit through are now about to pay off. I rub the side of the schorl and speak a phrase in our ancient language.

Nothing happens. Exactly as I feared. I don’t have time to panic. I’m about to become one of the many skeletons I crunched across on my way through the woods.

Feed the light, not the fear.

Feed the light…
I repeat Mabry’s words in my mind.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the glow between them. It’s the same one I use when I do a memory wipe. So why is getting this trick to work so difficult? It takes a stronger motivation to get where I need to be in my head. I think of Chela, and how I’ll never see her again if I get chopped up by giant tomahawks.

I feel the warmth between my eyes just before the light almost blinds me. This time I shout the words with passion inside each syllable. The schorl stretches until my metal staff forms. Only along with my favorite weapon comes a light bright enough to blind anything unfortunate enough to be staring at the rays.

I toss the staff down to the ground. The light coming from inside covers the entire area. The beam could easily compete with the sun’s brightness. Grumbles and moans sound all around me. Bodies fall down in the snow. By the time the guards recover from the blindness, I’ll be long gone.

I walk toward the staff, pick it up, and reduce it back down to the stick that’s the same size as a pen.

“Freaky,” I say as I watch the kappa guards with my strange eyesight. To me, everything looks white now. Where there’s a living creature, there’s an even brighter light highlighting the outline of its body. Things should go back to normal for me in about fifteen minutes or so. Before my playmates can get themselves together again, I blaze a trail toward Olivia’s mansion.

Chapter Two

Beautiful Shadows (Chela)

Thunder booms across the sky, vibrating through my chest. A nervous stir flows through the students in the classroom. My two best friends, Jalen Wood and Alexa Walsh, glance in my direction. Hurricane season is in full swing, and the city’s leaders still haven’t secured the ports yet.

It feels strange to be back in school, especially after spending four weeks in detention camp. It seems like my world has flipped, and it wants to make me think life is normal.

I know better, though. I refuse to be fooled again.

The kids in Mr. Oxendine’s class glance toward the window. Our teacher, no longer carries his old Thoughtmaster title since the Nation’s leaders disbanded that group. He locks gazes with me as everyone walks over to the windows. I stay at my seat. The sky has several dark, angry clouds swirling inside them. The hazy creations move as though they have a life of their own.

“Wow. Those clouds look angry,” a girl sitting on the front row says. Jalen and Alexa both glance back. A strange sense of doom showers me, and I’m afraid I can’t hide the answers  to my classmates’ silent questions.

Are we safe from the threat of another supernatural war?
No. The children of the fallen angels are still around.

Will our leaders be able to protect humans from the exiles?
I can’t really answer that since I’m one of those exiles.

Did she really kill the Beast?

Well, that would be like stabbing my own heart.

“Yes, those are angry clouds,” I whisper to myself, my heart speeding up. They reflect the way I feel.

Clouds are like mini gods watching over us, little beings that can see everything we do. They know all of our secrets and joys and fears. If I were a cloud, then I would know how to find the place where Faris has gone.

“Back to your seats, everyone.” Mr. Oxendine’s voice booms through the classroom, yanking me away from the thoughts swirling inside my head.

My racing heart beats in my chest so hard that I’m almost certain everyone else can easily hear it. The last time I saw a sky that looked this way was when Jalen and I spent time on Batts Grave, a place that no human can find. Jalen can see it, though. How can he do this? We don’t have a clue.

He thinks his strange abilities have something to do with his real father, Caleb Wood, a man who mysteriously disappeared when Jalen was only two-years-old. One thing is for certain. He isn’t an angel-blood like me. The origin of his super strength and lightning fast speed remains a mystery. And then there’s this dream I keep having about Jalen. Inside it, he fights this creature that’s some kind of mutated bull. I can’t picture everything inside the dream clearly, but I do know he fights to protect me, and he loses. Shuddering as I think of the way that dream always ends, I clear the memory from mind and focus on the board at the head of the classroom.

I somehow make it through my first day of school. Stepping outside, I breathe in fresh air and listen to the silence. Around me, the students move in slow motion. This is the way life has been for me since he left two weeks ago, the boy who haunts me. Time continues to turn each day, creating new memories for the people spinning inside its wheel. None of that affects me. I’m not really sure how to go about
living
again.

Where are you, Faris Toulan?

I don’t understand why you left me this way.

Tears sting my eyes. He told me to be strong. I promised I would wait because I do believe he will come back. I know it. I feel it. He has to, or I maybe I will turn to the other side the way the fallen ones want me to do.

I massage Mother’s necklace, the focus-point of my power, a seraphinite stone held in place by a metal talon. Two silver moons hang on either side of it. Like me, the talisman has been sleeping over the past couple of weeks.

Time goes back to its normal speed. A boy bumps into me. “Hey, move out of the way, won’t you?”

“Don’t be rude to my friend,” I hear Lexa’s voice scold as she approaches me. “What a butthead. Hey, Chela, are you all right?” Her concerned eyes scan my face. The look inside them says all that she feels. She doesn’t remember the tragedy from a couple weeks ago. Only Jalen and I hold on to those memories. The demon slayers used their mind wiping ability to erase the thoughts from her mind.

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine,” I lie.

“Chela, I’m your friend. Jalen’s your buddy too. He doesn’t want to say this, so I will. We’re worried about you. It’s like—like, I don’t know. We feel that only part of our friend lives here with us these days. It’s kind of like you’re in a trance, or something.”

I force a smile for my friend’s sake. But she’s right. I am a shadow of the person I used to be, a beautiful one. I try to think of something to say so I can lighten the moment. “What are you talking about? Micah’s out of his coma. He’s headed back home this weekend. I’m fine now.”

She twists her mouth and clutches her red bag, the purse that once belonged to her dead sister. “I know you miss him. And no, I don’t mean Micah. I’m talking about your hot, studly co-champion.” She lifts her hand to my face, and wipes away the tear forming in the corner of my eye. For the first time in a two weeks, I actually attempt a smile because we feel a tiny bit like us again.

I inhale deeply and hold the forced smile on my face. “Let’s go grab something to eat,” I say, even though I’m not hungry.

“You sure? I never see you eat, Chela.”

“That’s why I’m starving to death. So, are you going to drive for us, or what?” I ask, ignoring the flips my heart make when I glance at the sky one last time.

The storm clouds hold me in their trance. The gray shades inside the dark sections remind me of the ones inside the nightmares I continue to have each night. A dream where Faris is chained to a wall inside a dark cell as rebel Outcasts bleed him dry. It’s just my luck. I defeated one evil thing months ago only to be faced with something even more deadly.

The rumors about the healing power inside of an angel’s blood have spread like wildfire after the Thoughtmaster group was disbanded by our leaders. What they don’t understand is that blood can also be used as a weapon by the Tainted, the fallen souls led by Bernael, the Angel of Chaos. Now, I don’t only have to worry about what will happen if the Tribunal, the Nation of Corunum’s governing body, discovers me, but I also have to be afraid of getting caught in enemy territory and having them learn that I’m one of the angel-bloods.

Somewhere outside the city walls, Faris suffers. My friends don’t understand the hollow way I feel. He promised to find a way to end his curse and that he’d come back for me. The nightmares are a warning, a sign, a way to tell me that the boy I’ve fallen in love with needs me.

There’s a connection between the two of us, an ancient bond that was started by our races long ago. It was a way to protect ourselves against the Tainted. Right now, that connection screams inside me, tugging at my heart, keeping me from living the way I should be. I can’t even be happy now that my brother is on the way back home.

I don’t know how much longer I can stand this. I only give half of myself to my family and friends because that’s all that exists without him. I am a ghost of me, a memory waiting inside a storm that may never pass.

The weather affects me in a strange way. I can’t shake the feeling that everyone around me knows my secret, the same one that is Faris’s curse. What’s even worse is that I feel my deceit will come back to haunt all of us in some way.

You lied, Prizeon. They’re going to make sure you pay for it too. Your friends will be the ones to suffer.
 

Sitting inside Lexa’s car, I shudder. A lightning bolt zips through the clouds, leaving behind a strange sulfuric odor. A smell like that can only mean one thing, the Tainted are still around, waiting patiently for the right moment to attack.

I inhale and hold my breath.

Chapter Three

The Ice Warden (Faris)

I place a memory wipe on the guards standing outside the gates to Olivia’s mansion, forcing them to let me pass. With my mind focused on my goal, I storm through the gated entry, leaving the frigid Barrow winds and the shrieking guards behind me.

Inside the palace, the warm air that heats my skin contrasts sharply with the white walls and floors that match the couches in the living room. White bookcases line all four walls in the library. The twenty-foot walls are accented by arched windows about every two feet. Hidden speakers send opera music with a deep bass across the area. The whole house appears as though it has been washed in milk.

My confidence takes a hit when Olivia emerges from inside the room in front of me. She turns a stony face my way and dismisses the guards who stormed in behind me. Gathering my manners, I bow. “Mistress Warren.”

“You mock my hunters with your god-like abilities. They don’t enjoy being treated like fools. They’ll catch you one day, and then use your skin as bait in their winter games.”

“I hope you’ll save me from something like that.”

I expected to receive the cold treatment. Back in Bardonia long ago, we were promised to one other by our families. It was an attempt by my father to keep the peace among the growing unrest in our country. But I chose to join the Order of Demon Slayers over marriage. The wedding was called off, and heartbroken Olivia never forgave me.

She turns her nose up and walks away. Her hair, silky and white like snow, extends to her waistline, flowing along with her graceful movements. The navy pants and shirt she wears highlights her pale looks. She studies me with eyes that are clear gray and slanted like a Siamese cat. She’s a walking ghost girl, hollow and dangerous and ticked at me.

“I need a favor,” I say as humbly as possible.

“You risked a lot coming here, Mr. Exiled,” she says, ignoring me.

“Your vision and travel tools helped the demon slayers in the past.” I choose my words with care. I’m not trying to get shipped away as food for the fire bull.

“Ha!” The way she says it slices through me like a knife. “You stumble through my door, acting like I should welcome you with a smile instead of handcuffs. Did you hit your head? Do you remember who I am?”

I know exactly who she is—a jilted ex-girlfriend and the leader of a group of young wardens, trainees for the special ops forces, students who all have a lot of time, zero patience, and creatively twisted brains. But I also know her secret. She’s not a human. She’s a Bardonian like me, a witch of the Silver Magic. Her group rivals the power and knowledge of our TriGate alchemists.

“I’m honored you haven’t blinded me,” I say, bowing.

“Don’t tempt me.” She avoids my request. “You’ll lead Rabia straight to us.”

This news surprises me. Chela fought Rabia to save her brother, Micah. She used the Grace, her inner power, to contain Rabia in the world between the human land and mine. There’s only one problem, though—both girls have the same kind of power. This puts a snag in my plan. “Curse it, Rabia’s alive?”

“Not according to the city’s newsfeed. The leaders want to keep the past few month’s events a secret. Their delicate little humans can’t stand too much excitement. But Rabia’s powers grow every day. I hear she can even make herself look like anyone she chooses. This means she has mastered the art of shape shifting—one of the hardest incantations to master, even for us witches.”

“I’ll be quick with my explanations,” I reply.

Six white butterflies flutter around her head and then disappear in puffs of smoke. Mothball odors fill the air, stinging my nostrils. A white cat slinks into the room, strolling along as though it owns the place. It glides toward Olivia and rubs against her legs. Outside the house, the wind howls and blends in with the screams of the people held in the prisons scattered across the land. The sound disturbs me and brings up thoughts of my mother and sister. How does someone live this way?