Blood by Moonlight Read online

  If she knew the real reason he was here, she might not object to his presence quite so much, but she'd never given him a chance to explain.

  Hell, she wouldn't believe it anyway.

  "I'm not your enemy, Cassie."

  "Maybe not, Falco, but you're an obstacle, and I will no longer be bound by obstacles."

  She rose to her feet, staring down at the flames. "I need my grandmother's help to make you see reason, so I came here tonight to raise her spirit from the dead. Once I do . . ." She hesitated, rubbing her arms as though she were cold. "Once I do, Granny Jane won't give you a moment's peace." Dropping her arms, she turned to face him. "Unfortunately for you, she won't be able to leave until I release her."

  "She sounds lovely," Falco said dryly. "Social skills must run in the family."

  "Granny Jane didn't like trespassers, and neither do I."

  "I'm not a trespasser," he said flatly.

  "You are to me."

  Kneeling beside her bag, she rummaged around and pulled out two items, the first one making his blood run cold. It was a knife, about seven inches long with a broad handle, moonlight gleaming along the blade.

  "Cassie--" Falco warned, but the jasmine rustled, a few coils moving up his neck. One entwined itself in his hair, pulling his head back until his throat was exposed.

  "Don't worry," she murmured, giving him a sideways glance. "One little prick, and then it's over." Rising, she came toward him. "You should be used to that."

  "This isn't funny," he said, between gritted teeth. "Let me go."

  She was right in front of him now, so close he could make out her features, see the determined look in her eye. She knelt, letting the arm with which she held the knife rest on her knee. "Don't be such a baby, Falco," she murmured, showing him what she had in her other hand. It was a small silver cup, the edge chased with symbols. "I only need a little."

  And with that, she placed the point of the knife just under his right ear. "Trust me?" she whispered, her lush lips far too close to his own.

  He didn't answer, refusing to flinch or look away from her eyes, dark green pools of mystery that revealed nothing. A moment passed, an eternity, and he was gratified when she was the first to break eye contact.

  Then he felt a slight sting, and the coolness of metal against his neck as she used the cup to collect the blood she'd caused to flow.

  "Believe it or not, it's for your own protection," she told him. "A small blood offering now could save you from becoming a bloody mess later."

  "Gee," he ground out, "thanks."

  She rose, taking the cup and the knife with her. Moving back to where she'd left her leather bag, she placed the cup on the ground and used the knife to make a small nick on her wrist, holding it over the bowl. Having made her own bloody contribution to the contents, she reached into the bag and pulled out a small bundle of herbs, tied tightly with a cord, and used it to mix the shared blood.

  Then she pulled out a book, worn leather by the looks of it, bound with twine. Gently, almost reverently, she undid the twine, keeping it in her hand as she placed the book back into her satchel. Picking up the bundle of blood-soaked herbs, she rose and moved toward the fire.

  The herb bundle flared as she held it to the flames, releasing a noxious stink into the air, then subsided, emitting a sweet-smelling smoke.

  "A word of advice, Falco." Cassie's voice was grim. "You're going to see some things tonight that you shouldn't. I don't care if you tell the world about it afterward--no one's going to believe you anyway--but for now I suggest that you stay very, very quiet. In situations like this, it's best not to draw unwanted attention to yourself."

  "Situations like this? Cutting people against their will at three in the morning, you mean?"

  She shot him a dirty look, not deigning to answer. Then she stood tall, and lifting the smoldering bundle of herbs aloft, turned her face to the moon. Ignoring him completely, she began to speak.

  "Honor to thee, Nimue, keeper of the night sky. Bathe my soul with moonlight, and see that my motives are pure."

  There was nothing but silence, broken only by the faint crackle of flames. Despite himself, James couldn't tear his eyes away from her curves, backlit as she was by the fire.

  Spreading her arms to encompass the trees, Cassie spoke to them, as well. "Honor to thee, oh spirits of these ancient oaks. Stand with me as guardians this night, sheltering me as I breach the veil between the living and the dead."

  The scent of burning sage rose in the air, drifting, enshrouding the oaks. Cassie walked slowly around the fire, purifying the air with sweet-smelling smoke, murmuring words in a language he didn't understand.

  She seemed to have forgotten he was there, and he decided not to remind her. Instead, he watched and listened, finding himself fascinated by the way the moonlight both revealed and hid her face, gliding along her jawline, turning her eyes from pockets of shadow to glittering diamonds.

  When the bundle of herbs burned low, she tossed it onto the bonfire, where it caught and flared, releasing the last of its essence in a misty plume that reached directly for the moon.

  "Let the flames be a beacon to the one whom I seek." She raised her arms and looked upward, as though opening herself to the night. "Let the smoke take her form, the words wake her from her slumber."

  The green glow he'd seen earlier began again, this time beginning at the top of her head and working its way downward, until she was outlined in green, pulsating waves of energy that leaped and swirled around her.

  "Let those who are at rest keep their peace, and those who are not keep their distance. I seek only one spirit tonight, the one who taught me the ways of the Old Religion. I, Cassiopeia Calloway, call upon the Three-Fold Goddess, the Lady of the Wild Wood, keeper of the Green Magick. I call upon the Elementals of Earth and Fire. I petition and invoke the mysteries, and bid them make seen for me what is unseen for others."

  Then she tossed the piece of twine onto the fire, and stood quietly, as though waiting.

  Rapt despite himself, Falco kept quiet as the smoke from the bonfire began to swirl, faster and faster, rising into the night sky. The plume thickened, taking shape, lengthening and widening. It behaved as no smoke he'd ever seen behave, twisting round and round, snaking its way back downward to the ground in clear defiance of the laws of gravity.

  Then it broke away from the fire entirely, and became its own.

  There, in the shadows beneath the ancient oaks, it flickered and wisped, and resolved itself into the figure of a woman, bent and withered with age.

  Gray hair, caught in a bun at the nape of her neck. A long dress, sturdy shoes, a ruffled apron; a woman who looked as though she'd be more comfortable in the kitchen than the woods.

  For the first time that evening, Cassie smiled, a brilliant smile that changed her face entirely. The smile faded however, as the old woman turned to Falco and said, quite warmly, "James, my boy. How lovely to see you."

  Without missing a beat, Falco answered her easily.

  "Evening, Miz Calloway. Great to finally see you too."

  "Has my granddaughter been giving you trouble?"

  Falco sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The jasmine vines slid effortlessly from his body, leaving him free. "More than you know, ma'am." He got up, and faced Cassie, who stood white-faced and silent. "But now that we've been blood-bonded, everything should be fine."

  Chapter Two

  "I DON'T UNDERSTAND." The green glow around Cassie began to fade. "What's going on here?"

  Her face was white as bone in the moonlight, her eyes wide with shock. In that moment, Falco almost felt sorry for her.

  "All will be revealed in time," said Granny Jane Calloway, gently. "You can't invoke the mysteries without expecting some to occur." The old woman leveled a stern look upon her granddaughter, and added, "You seem to have forgotten the rules, Cassie."

  She shook her head. "No, Granny, I haven't forgotten anything, I swear! I've done nothing to break the Rede, nothing t
hat would bring harm to anyone." Shooting Falco a quick look of resentment, she added, "I just wanted to scare him off, that's all."

  "He doesn't scare easily," Granny Jane answered, with the flicker of a smile. "Never seen two such stubborn people in all my born days."

  "You know each other?"

  "We should." Falco grinned at the stunned expression on Cassie's face. "We've been living together for over a year."

  Granny Jane made a tsking sound, shooing his words away. "Go along with you, James Falco. You make it sound like I'm some kind of hussy."

  "Never, Miz Calloway," he told her, with a glint of teasing in his eye. "You're a lady." He gave Cassie a wry look, making it clear that the words "unlike your granddaughter" were on the tip of his tongue.

  "This--" Cassie raised a hand to her forehead, obviously confused. "This makes no sense."

  "Neither does what you're doing," Falco said sourly. "Dirty trick, if you ask me."

  "I was trying to get my land back," she spat, angry and exasperated. "I wasn't going to hurt you!"

  "Doing no harm is not the only Rule of Conduct for witches," said Falco, taking a step closer. "There's another, even older, that forbids the use of power against those with power of their own, for both of us draw from the same well." He held out his hands, letting her see the faint blue glow that arose from his palms. "As you are Earth, I am Sky," he said simply, and with that, the night began to darken.

  "No," she gasped, shaking her head. "You are nothing, and no one!"

  "Believe what you like," he told her. "But belief is not enough to make it so." And with that, he raised his hands to the sky.

  She looked up, as did he, to see the face of Nimue, Moon Goddess, become obscured by clouds. The night grew darker and darker, illuminated only by the bonfire, which had begun to burn low.

  "Granny Jane?" For the first time, he detected a note of fear in Cassie's voice. "Where are you? Where'd you go?"

  He glanced to where the old woman had been standing, but she was gone.

  Cassie ran to the spot, calling. "Granny Jane! Come back!"

  Falco remained where he was, arms toward the heavens, seeing her far more clearly in the darkness than she ever would him. The power he'd brought forth had sharpened his vision to the level of the owl, hooting mournfully in the trees above their heads.

  The blue glow around his hands intensified, and a low rumble of thunder began, followed by a flash of lightning that split the sky. Wind came sweeping across the fields and through the oaks, bringing rain with it: hard and heavy, slashing through leaves and branches, hitting the ground with a pounding roar.

  "What are you doing?" Cassie shrieked at him over the remains of the dying fire, furious and thwarted. The flames hissed and spit like angry cats, sending up plumes of sodden smoke. "Stop it!"

  To Falco, Cassie looked like an angry cat herself, all green eyes and wet hair, emanating outrage and fury.

  "As you are Fire, I am Water," he responded, nearly having to shout to be heard above the downpour. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not the only one with powers in Calloway Corners."

  Aghast, wild-eyed, she shook her head, denying his words. "No! I would've known it, I would've felt it . . ."

  "It's true," he shouted. "Come inside and let's talk about it."

  Another flash of lightning, closer this time, made Cassie flinch, and Falco lowered his hands. The blue glow abated, but the storm didn't, growing wilder in its intensity. The wind buffeted the oaks, howling around them, sweeping away all traces of Cassie's sweet-smelling smoke.

  "Granny Jane!" she shouted desperately, drenched and buffeted herself. "Where are you?"

  Falco moved, surefooted in the darkness, and caught Cassie by the elbow. Even that close, he still had to shout. "Your grandmother is in the house," he told her. "Where she's been all along. Come inside."

  Her eyes were huge in her face, pools of hurt and distrust that told him much about her. She was strong, this one, but he was stronger. He willed her to see it, to acknowledge it.

  "I'll come inside," she said, snatching her elbow from his grip. "But if you touch me again, I'll kill you."

  THE HOUSE LOOKED much as she remembered, except for the furniture, which was far more modern and expensive than the secondhand stuff she'd grown up with.

  Cassie stood in the living room, dripping water all over the entryway rug, a nice Persian runner that was probably going to be ruined. Unlike the outside of the house, the inside was spotlessly neat, hardwood floors reflecting the glow of a fire crackling in the hearth. The sight of it comforted her, and she moved toward it.

  "I'll get some towels," Falco said, but she barely heard him. She was too busy looking around, noticing the new paint on the walls, the camel-colored sofa that looked nothing like the old floral one she'd spent so much time on as a kid, poring over the spells contained in Granny's grimoire. The worn leather book was in her satchel, which she'd grabbed before running into the house.

  The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing came from down the hall, which she knew led to the bathroom, and further on, the master bedroom that had once been her parents'. Her room had been upstairs, and she could no more stop her feet from moving toward the staircase than she could stop the storm from raging outside.

  The fourth stair creaked, just as it always had, the wood of the banister smooth against her wet fingers. Clutching it for all she was worth, Cassie continued past the first landing, merely glancing at the second floor hallway, and followed the stairs to the tiny third floor, which held little besides a small arched window and her old room, tucked up under the eaves.

  "Cassie?" Falco's voice came from downstairs, but she ignored it, putting her fingers on the clear glass doorknob she'd touched so many times, and turning it. It twisted easily, and then the door was open, laying her childhood bare before her.

  The room was empty, of course, as empty as her heart had been since she left it. There was a brown stain on the wallpaper beneath the window, evidence that water had seeped in at some point. A big scratch on the wooden floor that she didn't remember, which could've been made by the movers the day they'd packed up her life and taken it away.

  Crossing to the window, she looked out on a view that had once been peacefully familiar, but was now dark and storm-lashed.

  "You left wet footprints all the way up the stairs," said Falco grumpily, from the doorway behind her. "Here."

  She turned, automatically catching the towel he tossed her. He'd already been using one on himself, as his dark curls were wildly disordered, not lank and dripping as hers were. The cut beneath his ear was no longer bleeding, a mere scratch that would be gone in a few days.

  "Nice room," he said, glancing around. "Was it yours?"

  Cassie nodded frostily, feeling no less hostile than she had earlier. She was glad, in fact, that he didn't come in, for cornering her in her old bedroom while she felt this vulnerable and defenseless was not a good idea; she might end up clawing his eyes out if he got too close.

  He seemed to sense it, for he kept his distance.

  They were blue, those eyes, as blue as the sky that he apparently controlled, as blue as the water he'd apparently summoned.

  She still had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that James Falco had powers of any kind, and worse, that she'd been in total ignorance of them.

  Why hadn't Granny Jane warned her?

  "I haven't gotten around to doing anything with this room yet," Falco told her, as though he had the right to use it any way he pleased, which--Goddess curse him--he did. "I think your grandmother prefers it the way it is."

  "Where is she?" Cassie eyed him distrustfully, wishing he'd move away from the doorway. "You said she was inside."

  Falco shrugged. "She comes and goes. Moving things around, slamming cabinet doors in the kitchen if I leave them open, that kind of thing."

  Cassie did know, for Granny Jane had never been one to keep her opinions to herself, and she liked things tidy.
r />   "You two seem pretty cozy together." Hating the spear of jealousy that pierced her, she crossed her arms, forcing herself to keep meeting his eye.

  "It's not like I had much choice," he said, unsuccessfully hiding a grin. "Miz Calloway wasn't going anywhere until she was good and ready, and it was easier to make peace with her than to wake up every morning to the sound of breaking dishes." He shook his head, looking rueful. "That old woman has cost me a fortune in glass and china. Thank goodness for China Barn and the Internet."

  "We're not blood-bonded," she told him baldly, deciding to get right to the heart of things. "Blood bonding requires the consent of both parties, and I took yours without it."

  He raised a dark eyebrow. "Did you?"

  "Of course I did," she shot back, but inwardly she faltered, remembering how easily the vines had fallen away. She hadn't willed them to; could he have gotten free any time he wanted? "Why would you have willingly blood-bonded with me?" Holding his eye, she added, quite deliberately, "I don't like you, Falco."

  "You're the one who invoked the mysteries." He shrugged. "I'll let your granny explain that one."

  Glaring at him, Cassie weighed her options, feeling very much at a disadvantage. The blood bond was not something to take lightly; it came with rules and responsibilities, when all she wanted was her house back, free and clear.

  "How did you--" She sighed, putting thoughts of the bond aside for now, as he clearly wasn't going to elaborate on the topic. "How did you know who she was? How did you get her to make peace with you?"

  "I talked to her," he answered simply. "It's a basic negotiation tool--you might wanna try it sometime."

  She narrowed her eyes, not appreciating the tinge of sarcasm.

  "I'm sure your granny will explain things to you when she's ready." He turned away, putting his hand on the banister. "I'm going to change these wet clothes." His glance flicked over her briefly. "Want me to bring you a shirt?"

  "Don't bother," she snapped, "I'll be dry before you will." It would take only a tiny bit of power to dry her own clothes, for the burn of her anger and resentment would do most of the work for her.