Blood Moon (Samantha Moon Case Files Book 2) Read online

  So, I wind up sitting up all night in a room they insist I sleep in. Nothing makes time drag like wanting to be elsewhere in a hurry. Thoughts of Lanie almost eating a bullet mix with my homesickness. Yeah, maybe a bit of crying happens. As much as Delacroix managed to convince me that my kids aren’t experiencing time passing without me there, that doesn’t mean I don’t miss them. Time is still passing for me without them. Ugh. If this is a preview of what I’m going to be like when they’re grown and moved out… I’ve been through some wild shit since becoming a vampire, but the hardest thing I’m ever going to face is having to let them be adults someday.

  Eventually, the approaching sun knocks me out. To my perception, time jumps forward like six hours in an instant. After tidying the bed I slept in, I head downstairs to make pleasantries with the family. They’re in a tizzy over the bullet that almost took Lanie’s life, clearly far more worried about her than simple employers ought to be. Perhaps the employee part is a legal technicality so she can stay with them, but I suspect they really have more adopted her than anything. It’s crazy to think that maybe all the work she does would be normal in this time period for a daughter that age. I can barely get Tammy to pick up her room.

  I pop downstairs for a brief farewell with Cumberland and the others. After wishing them safe travels north, I head out into another blistering late-August day. Soon after returning to the woods, I spot a giant buck, which I run down and feed from. One advantage to taking meals from large animals like cows and deer is, I don’t have to worry about killing the poor things by drinking too much.

  Since I could run all over the place hunting for Delacroix, and I know he’s heading back to New York, the best plan I come up with over an hour of pacing around and grumbling to myself is to wait for dark and fly to New York. That will at least get me away from the Civil War. Of course, should something happen to Delacroix and he never makes it… well, I could spend years searching for him and not realize I’m wasting time.

  Still, flying to New York is the best idea I’ve got. But I’m not about to take to the skies in broad daylight. Granted, there’s no Internet here or legions of people with smartphones, so if anyone did see me, they’d probably be laughed off as drunks for telling anyone about a giant bat-dragon thing.

  While debating whether or not I should wait for nightfall to take to the sky, George Clarke shimmers into being a few paces away, nearly invisible in the light of day.

  Ugh. That poor boy.

  He seems to pick up on my reaction and bows his head with a grateful expression. It must be lonely for him if he’s thankful a total stranger feels horrible that he died. I can’t think of anything to say, so we sit there in silence for a little while before he walks up to stand beside me.

  “Miss Moon?” he asks. “I think you should follow me, quick-like.”

  I perk up. “What’s wrong?”

  “That man you’re looking for.” George points off to the side. “He’s injured.”

  Damn. I stand. “What happened?”

  George shrugs.

  “How far?”

  He scratches his head, glances off in the same direction, and shrugs again. “It’s strange being a ghost, ma’am. Everything looks different. Can’t rightly say how far, but I think you should be able to walk there.”

  “All right.” No sense debating minutiae with a ghost, especially when my best chance for going home might be dying somewhere nearby.

  George rushes off into the trees. In order to keep pace with him, I have to hike up this dress into a miniskirt. Not that anyone is likely to get a good view of my thighs with me running at a speed way faster than a human should be able to go, but I’m showing enough skin to cause a Southern Baptist to burst into flames. It’s so damn nice to be free from that other outfit I’d been stuck in for days. Still, considering I got flung across time in my Talos form and landed in 1862 buck naked, I’ll take a ridiculously overcomplicated dress over nothing. Though, it’s been so damn hot lately, wearing nothing at all would probably still feel overdressed.

  Honestly, I have no idea how people here tolerate this heat—especially without A/C.

  Anyway, George blurs among the trees, his form having lost much of its humanlike shape. I fly as fast as I can make myself move on land, dodging around the forest, leaping creeks and streams. Almost an hour into the chase, I scare the absolute shit out of a pair of adolescent boys. Neither one of them react until I’m well into the trees on the other side, at which point they both scream at what had to be a blur of white fabric and dark hair.

  I’m sure they’re both running home to tell their mama about the ‘ghost lady’ or whatever they think blurred past them.

  Okay, it’s kinda mean of me to mentally laugh at that, but I’ve always had a thing for sneaking up and scaring people—especially my brothers. Dusk—yeah, his name is Dusk, and yeah, I had hippie parents—was always jumpy as a kid. I could get him to freak without even trying. Just walk up beside him and say ‘hey,’ and he’d practically jump out of his skin. Mary Lou, on the other hand, hardly ever batted an eyelash when I tried to get her. Once, I hid in her clothes hamper and shouted ‘boo’ when she lifted the lid. She threw her dress over my head and shut the lid on me. Killjoy. Got Dad once too, right when he started taking a hit off his bong. Scaring him made him inhale hard. Thought I damn near killed him the way he coughed and cursed.

  Two hours into running, I start to wonder exactly how distorted a perception of distance a ghost has. Right as I’m about to ask, George stops on a dime and I whoosh past him. It’s not easy to go from a full-on vampiric sprint to a dead stop, so I slow down carefully. The last thing I need is to wipe out, shred this dress, and strand myself out in the sticks with nothing but cotton undergarments.

  George waits for me by a large tree as I trot back to where he jammed to a halt. His expression is somber, but not so much that I jump to a worst-case assumption. Well, that, and there’s no Delacroix ghost staring at me, which is damn good news.

  A moan issues out from the underbrush.

  I rush over, pulling vines and leaves aside.

  Delacroix lays sprawled in a shallow gulley, roughed up and bleeding from several places. He looks like he got into a fistfight with five men.

  “Jean,” I say, pronouncing his name the French way, and kneel beside him.

  He groans and shifts his gaze to me. A moment of panic comes and goes on his face, replaced with a resigned sense of ‘screw it.’

  “Miss Moon,” he says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “What happened?” I check him over, but don’t see any serious or obvious problems. No gunshots or stab wounds anyway.

  “Couple of”―he coughs―“soldiers. Robbed me.”

  I hover over him, cradling his head in both hands and stare into his eyes. When I spot Chisholm and Pardoe in his memory, the two idiots who attacked us a few days ago, I growl.

  Delacroix shivers.

  Oops. My growl’s a bit low and, well, sounds more like a pissed-off lion than a woman.

  “Calm down,” I say. “I’m not angry with you. Those two jackasses who attacked you… I ran into them a while back.” For once in my life, I almost regret not murdering people at random. Of course, how could I have known those two would come back to bite me in the ass.

  “Donc, voici comment ma vie se termine.” He chuckles. “Jamais je n’aurais imagine…”

  “Sorry. I have no idea what you said. I took Spanish in high school.”

  Delacroix shifts his head, staring up at me with a perplexed expression. “What is ‘high school’? Is that something they have in California?”

  “It’s something they have in the future.” I shake my head at him. “You shouldn’t have run off. But I can’t say I blame you. I’d probably run from a vampire, too.”

  “So, this is how it ends for me?” he wheezes.

  “Not if I can help it.” I scoop him up and stand, holding him. “You’re still my ticket home. I was a little upset at you
for that note, but I’ll forgive you if you stay alive.”

  “Doing my best.” He coughs again. “Those men were rather interested in my belongings.”

  Grumbling, I turn in place. Oh hell. As long as I spent running, I’ve gotta be forty miles away from the Pinkhams’ place; that is, if I can backtrack my way to it. And it’s anyone’s guess which way to Richmond. Grr.

  I set Delacroix back on the ground. “Guess this is your lucky day.”

  He raises one finger. “I beg to differ.”

  When I begin to strip, both his eyebrows go up.

  “Madame, certainly you’re not…”

  “I’m not. I just don’t fancy destroying my only clothing. Do me a favor and pretend you’re not seeing this, okay?”

  “You are a sight no man could forget, mademoiselle.”

  I smirk while rolling my dress and undergarments together into a bundle around my boots and setting it on his chest.

  “You might want to close your eyes then so you can savor the good memories. I’m about to get a little… less than beautiful.” No offense, Talos. I mean that in the sense of femininity.

  Eyes closed, I picture the flame in darkness and call out to my dragon friend across the worlds.

  Delacroix emits a noise like a startled pigeon and promptly faints. That actually works.

  I gather him as gently as possible in my talons and leap into the sky. There’s no way I’m carrying him on foot over such a distance at a walking pace without hurting him more. He’s in no shape to support himself, so this is our best chance.

  Once I climb above the trees, I’m treated to a beautiful panoramic view of Virginia. Richmond appears to be somewhere off to my right and a bit behind. From my vantage point, I can see skirmishes going on around the railroad junction, but I’m nowhere close enough to be at risk of catching a stray bullet or causing alcoholism in anyone who spots me.

  Still, after spying the Pinkhams’ farm, which is fairly simple due to the wide open fields around it, I dip back down close to the treetops to hide, and power forward. Delacroix comes to a few minutes later, takes note of his situation (flying in the talons of a half-dragon creature) and promptly faints again. Just as well. The poor man will likely be happier not having this memory.

  Minutes later, I swoop in to a hover behind the barn, the leathery flapping of my wings spooking the horses inside. After setting Delacroix down as gingerly as I’m able, I pop back to my human self and drop into a crouch. While I’m trying to unfurl the bundle of dress, a small gasp comes from behind me.

  The Pinkhams’ youngest daughter, Violet, who’s about five, stares at me from tall grass up to her shoulders. She evidently thinks a grown woman being outside with no clothes is hilarious as she lapses into giggles. I feel horrible for tinkering with the mind of a tiny child, but I don’t need her saying awkward things later. Her giggling trails off into a mesmerized stare. Leaving her ‘paused,’ I hastily dress, then make sure she thinks she’d been laughing at seeing me trip and land on my butt.

  Violet resumes giggling.

  I pick Delacroix up and carry him around the barn, heading across the inner field to the main house. The other daughters are out front, Ginny, the nine-year-old, sitting on the stairs with a doll, and Esther, the eldest at eleven, on the porch swing, reading.

  Susanna, their mother, sits nearby on a wicker chair. She hops up and rushes down the stairs. “Heavens to Betsy, what’s happened?”

  “This man is a friend of mine. He’s been accosted by brigands.”

  She tilts her head at me.

  Oops. Is ‘brigands’ appropriate for the 1860s, or did I just ‘go medieval?’

  “Men robbed him,” I say hastily, “and gave him a beating.”

  “Bring him inside.” Susanna leads the way, holding doors open as she goes.

  Maybe she’s looking at me weird since I’m carrying a grown man with ease. I ignore it and haul Delacroix inside, upstairs, and into a small guest bedroom where I ease him onto the bed and remove his boots and travel pack. Lanie arrives soon after with a bowl of water, and we spend a few minutes cleaning him up. At some point, Delacroix wakes with a gasp, staring at me as though I’m about to devour his heart.

  His mind is already blocking out any memory of him witnessing Talos on its own, so I give it a little nudge in that direction.

  “I’ll bring some soup if that’s all right,” says Lanie as she stands.

  Delacroix nods. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

  I wait for her to leave the room, then sigh. “So that’s what you’re doing down here in Richmond… helping Cumberland and his family flee to the north.”

  “Yes.” He coughs, winces, and clutches his side. Likely a broken rib. “The man’s brother found me in New York, asked me to do what I could.”

  “They made it,” I say. “I traveled with them to the safehouse.” I’m not sure if Delacroix is supposed to know that we’re technically in the same safehouse, so I don’t mention it.

  He blinks. “Surely, you jest. Even after the ensorcellment?”

  “I had to do what I could.” I chuckle. “Not all vampires are evil. I know why you think so, and the dark spirit inside me is probably as evil as they come… but I’m trying to contain her.” I ramble for a bit about my struggles with Elizabeth, and mention again my alchemist friend, Max. “I think of it like fate chose me for the responsibility of containing her. I dunno. Maybe she won’t bring about the end of the world, but I’m not ready to risk it.”

  Delacroix reaches over and takes my hand. For a moment, I think we’re about to have a tender moment, but once again seems more interested in my ‘eat food’ ring. His gaze shifts to meet mine. “And I never would’ve imagined a crea―forgive me, a woman in your condition would be capable of anything but monstrosity.”

  “Thanks… I think. I couldn’t just leave Cumberland and his family like that. It’s not right how people are treated back here.”

  “Tell me it’s changed in your time?” he asks in a weak rasp.

  I fidget at my dress, picking lint and flicking it away. “I wish I could say it’s perfect. It’s not. There’s still a lot of problems, but it’s much better than it is here. The North wins the war and abolishes slavery, but prejudice is like a rich old mother in law… takes forever to die.”

  He starts to laugh but stops with a wince. “Ouch. It’s good to know we prevail. How bad does it get?”

  “The Civil War?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pretty bad. I remember something about Sherman’s march. They did a lot of damage to the South.”

  “An associate of mine—more charlatan than anything—is convinced Lincoln won’t survive the war.”

  “He does die, yeah. Assassinated.” I pick at my fingernails. “Sorry for not paying much attention in history class. I wanna say he was shot like a month or two before the Civil War officially ended, but I’m not a hundred percent sure of the date.”

  Delacroix chuckles. “Fancy that. All the spurious things my friend has tried to predict, and he winds up correct about something so major. I’m surprised you aren’t tempted to stop it. The assassination, I mean.”

  “Well, for one thing, I’m from a world where it already happened. For another, there’s a bit of ‘not my problem’ creeping in, and what if the timeline wants to preserve itself so Lincoln still dies from some other random thing.”

  He chuckles. “Perhaps anything you do here in the past will unwind when the spell is broken.”

  My heart ices over thinking of Lanie and her near-death experience at the kitchen sink. “Are you sure about that?”

  “It’s time travel. I’m sure of nothing. Though, I would wager that the more significant a disturbance, the greater the odds of things evening out.”

  “So, if I save the life of no one important in the grand scheme of world history, they’ll stay alive, but if I kill Hitler, someone else will take that role.”

  “Who is Hitler?”

  I shiver.
“Someone who murdered millions.”

  He gawks. “How is that even possible, to kill on such a grand scale?”

  “He rises to power in Germany and starts a war that involves most of the developed world. Uhh, France gets pretty chewed up, too. That’s, of course, after the First World War.”

  “There are two such wars?”

  “Yes.”

  Delacroix sighs.

  “But we, I mean the good guys, win in the end… still, many, many innocent people die.”

  “It must be tempting for you to stay here in the past and change so much horror. Alas, I fear things will not quite work out as you hope in that regard.”

  “What about Lanie?” I ask in a whisper, lest someone in the house overhear, then explain the Minié ball that likely would’ve killed her.

  “Unless she’s going to do something significant, I doubt it.” He coughs again, cringing in agony.

  “You should rest.”

  Delacroix swats at my hand when I try to check on him. “Of course, I may well be completely off on a tangent. Perhaps you can alter the future.”

  “I’m really not that interested. Like it or hate it, the world I live in is the world I know. If I change too much, who knows what I’ll go back to? The most important thing for me is getting home to my kids.”

  “There is a slight problem with that,” he wheezes, then holds up his hand, revealing a band of pale skin on his finger. “Those ruffians took my ring.”

  “Your focus ring?”

  “You remembered.”

  “Of course, I remembered. We need that ring.”

  “Yes,” he said. “We do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It’s probably a good thing I don’t have laser-beam eyes like Superman, or the Pinkhams wouldn’t have a house anymore. It’s also probably a good thing that those two Confederate deserters aren’t anywhere near me right now or I’d do something rather unlike me.

  “So… this ring is important?” I ask. “Nothing like it in New York?”