Blame the Moonlight (Bound by series Book 2) Page 7

  “That first night at the old witch’s house,” Anton continued, ignoring Brandon. “You claimed to be ill and left early.”

  “The dinner didn’t agree with me,” she said defiantly.

  He laughed, an evil chuckle. “That’s right. Darcy said you were having an allergic reaction.”

  “I’m sorry, Chelsea,” Darcy repeated softly. “I did my best to distract him, but he figured it out anyway.”

  “I don’t know of many allergies that make someone become so pale as to be transparent,” Anton said. “Unless, of course, you’re allergic to moonlight.”

  “You saw?”

  “I saw your hand.” He nodded. “So I followed you when you left. I lost track of you in the woods. But I never forgot that transparent hand.” He picked up another photo from the bed. “And I never thought I’d get photographs like these. Very impressive.”

  “Chelsea,” Brandon said, without turning to look at her. “Get dressed.”

  “But I—”

  “I guarantee he won’t touch you or hurt you in any way. I’ll stay here. Go ahead. Do what you have to do.”

  She was tempted to argue but she did feel exposed with just Brandon’s shirt. She grabbed underwear and some clothes from her open suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom. She kept the door slightly open so she could hear the conversation.

  “What are you after?” Brandon asked after she had gone. “Why did you go to all this trouble?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” Anton said. “You, a reporter, just happened to stumble upon the greatest discovery in mankind? I don’t think so.” His huff of laughter expressed his disbelief. “You want her just as much as I do.”

  “Hell yes, I want Chelsea,” Brandon said with bravado. “I wouldn’t have followed her naked down the hallway if I didn’t want her. But I think you have something else in mind.”

  She could have hugged Brandon in that moment, but instead she slipped on her underwear and grabbed the jeans she’d taken from her suitcase.

  “You were just going to let this ride without writing a story about it? Even if the Daily Press isn’t interested, I’m sure the National Enquirer would pay a nice price.”

  “I don’t work for the Enquirer and I would never hurt Chelsea. I care too much for her. I’m not like you. I have no interest in exploiting Chelsea.”

  She hooked her bra, then pulled her sweater over her head. The moonstone necklace, which she’d recovered from Brandon’s knapsack when they dressed last night by the campfire, lay on the sink counter. She grabbed her phone and the necklace, then slipped both in her pocket. Something about the gemstone spoke to her, but she hadn’t time to think about that now.

  “I won’t hurt her either. She’s too valuable to me,” Anton told Brandon. Chelsea emerged dressed from the bathroom, and he turned her way.

  “There she is,” he said with enthusiasm. “Chelsea, how would you like to star in Witches and Werewolves?”

  “Darcy is the star of that film and I’m no actor.” She gave Brandon his tee shirt, then slipped her hand into his. His eyebrow raised in surprise, but he squeezed her hand. Together, they stood as a combined front.

  “That’s true,” Anton said. “Of course, scheduling around the moon would be difficult. After all, you are Nevidimi.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that. How do you know about the Nevidimi?” Brandon asked.

  A lump formed in her throat. She didn’t think she could speak. Her worst nightmare was playing out in front of her.

  “Roughly one hundred and fifty years ago, one of my ancestors discovered the Nevidimi and made them his life work. In fact, he wrote a book about them.”

  “Dr. Vladimir Staveroski,” Brandon stated.

  “You’ve read it!” Anton brightened. “It’s difficult to find that book these days, but a good reporter would know that.” He glanced at Chelsea as if to remind her that Brandon worked for the Daily Press. His implications held no sway with her. She knew Brandon wouldn’t betray her. “My Great-Uncle five times back was vilified because of that book. He was labeled a quack, laughed at, humiliated. All because he printed what was true.”

  “Get your coat,” Brandon told her, pulling the returned tee shirt over his head. “It’s time for us to go.”

  She slipped to the closet to get the Birkland cape, but it wasn’t there. Great. Now she’d have to find a way to replace the cape from wherever she landed in her flight from Haven Harbor.

  “You can’t escape,” Anton said. “I won’t let you. I have a sizable sum of money invested in Chelsea, and I’m not going to let her slip through my fingers.”

  Click.

  “Anton, No!” Darcy yelled.

  Chelsea looked back to see a gun in Anton’s hand pointed straight at Brandon’s chest. Brandon raised his hands in surrender.

  “If you leave. I’ll shoot your boyfriend,” he said to Chelsea. “His death will be on your hands.”

  “Go!” Brandon insisted. “Run! He’s bluffing. Save yourself.”

  Yet she couldn’t move. She couldn’t cause another’s death, especially the one she trusted like no other.

  She stepped forward. “If I stay with you, what will happen?”

  His lips curled in a sickening smile. “First, I’d going to repudiate my ancestor through the press. I’ll call an outdoor evening press conference with you by my side and let the world see you fade away just as Dr. Staveroski described.”

  “They’ll think it’s a magic trick,” Brandon said. “No one will believe you.”

  “Then I’ll turn you over to the military for testing,” Anton continued as if Brandon had not interrupted. “Unfortunately, they’ll be more humane in their tests than my great uncle would have been, but you’ll be locked up for study for years and years.” He cackled at his victory.

  The room blurred. Her heartbeat pulsed loudly in her ears. She was seeing her future. Now that he knew her name, there’d be no escape. Oh My God! The one thing she feared most in life, discovery, was upon her.

  She heard a loud crack, almost like an explosion, though she had no idea where it occurred or why. But her ears hurt and all sound was instantly muffled.

  Brandon tugged hard at her hand, pulling her toward the door. Why was he was shouting at her? Why couldn’t she hear him? The fuzziness began to recede. One word jolted her senses. Run!

  Chapter 10

  With Brandon in the lead, they raced down the hotel hallway. “Where are we going?” Chelsea asked while struggling to keep up with Bran’s long stride.

  “Anywhere Anton can’t find us!” He exploded into the stairway. “Let’s run for my car and head for the airport. We’ll find some city where he’ll never look for us.”

  She’d dropped his hand when they took to the steps. Now, she stopped entirely, letting him take a step or two ahead. He stopped and looked back. “Us?” she asked.

  “I lost you once before for something like this.” He looked past her to the door at the top of the landing. “I’m not going to lose you again.”

  “But your job?” It was one thing for her to find a way to fit into a new community, but something else entirely for him. No matter how much she would miss him, she couldn’t ask him to sacrifice his career for her.

  “I’ll find another.” His lips tilted in that half smile that she loved. He shrugged, then reached for her hand. “It’s not like my editor was willing to give me a second chance anyway.”

  She could have kissed him in that moment, but there was no time. Instead, she continued forward and accepted his hand. “What happened upstairs?” she asked. “I couldn’t see.”

  “Darcy crept up behind Anton and knocked the gun out of his hands. It fired, but we didn’t stick around to see what happened next.”

  Her breath caught. “Could Darcy be hurt?”

  “She was behind him and she knocked the gun down. I don’t think she could be shot.” Though she could tell from his expression that he wasn’t as positive as
he pretended to be.

  Hand in hand, they finished their race down the steps, then exited out of the stairway. Her ankle started a low throb as it hadn’t fully healed from her recent fall from that window. They walked a little slower toward the lobby so as not to attract attention. While Brandon watched for Anton, Chelsea thought to check the moon app on her phone. “Wait. I can’t go outside. The moon hasn’t set.”

  “Seriously? The sun is shining. How can the moon be out?”

  “The sun’s light just hides the moon. Haven’t you ever seen the moon when the sun is still shining? This time of year the moon sets about an hour later every morning even after the sun has risen. Believe me, I have to know these things.” She wished she didn’t.

  He thought a moment, then grasped her hand. “We’ll run out the back and head for the woods. Anton will probably assume we headed for the parking lot anyway.”

  He turned and pulled her in the opposite direction. She didn’t want to do this. She’d fade for sure. What if someone saw her in phase? Too many people knew about her abilities as it was.

  The bell announcing the arrival of the elevator rang. She knew she didn’t have a choice. She hobbled toward the back door.

  They were halfway to the cover of the trees when she felt tingling in her fingers and toes. It wasn’t as strong as it had been that first night when the moon was still full. Then her phase had been fairly instantaneous, and took her all the way to invisibility. With the waning gibbous moon, she wouldn’t phase as fast, nor disappear entirely, but it wouldn’t matter. Appearing as a ghost was even worse than being invisible.

  “Brandon! I can’t…my ankle!”

  He immediately swooped her into his arms and continued the run for the safety of the wood.

  Just as they were about to gain the cover of the trees, a number of women with witch capes stepped out from behind the thick trunks, blocking their path. Crap. They must have stumbled into some sort of witch convention. Brandon tried running around the witches, but they spread out and blocked their path.

  “Ladies,” Brandon pleaded. “You have to let us through. This is an emergency.”

  “No, Brandon, it is not.” Chelsea recognized Mrs. Birkland as the speaker. While she knew Mrs. Birkland was a witch based on her appearance at the fire ring, she hadn’t expected to see her wearing the missing cape that Chelsea had borrowed earlier. Brandon set her softly on her feet.

  “It came back to you,” she said in wonder.

  Mrs. Birkland had a benevolent smile. “I told you it would. It’s how we knew you were threatened.”

  “Then you know what I am?” Chelsea asked. Although, standing semi-visible before the witch, it should be clearly evident that she wasn’t normal.

  “We’ve known that you’re a descendent of the Nevidimi for some time. We’re delighted that you’ve found your way to Haven Harbor.”

  A door slammed, then Anton, leaning heavily on Darcy with his foot wrapped in a bloody towel, limped toward them. They paused a moment when they saw the women in capes, but then continued.

  “Good,” he said. “You caught her. I’ll just take her off your hands now.”

  “Not so fast, Mr. Stammer,” Mrs. Birkland said. “Miss Davenport is in our protection, now.”

  “But you don’t know what she is,” he insisted. “She’s the Hollywood ghost.”

  “Fiddle!” Hannah Brom interrupted.

  “Hannah?” Brandon turned toward the one who spoke.

  “Do you honestly think witches can’t access the internet?” Hannah pointed her finger at Anton. “It’s not the middle ages, you know.”

  “Miss Davenport looks very human to me.” Mrs. Birkland extended her arm to encompass Chelsea’s shoulders. “But if you don’t get that taken care of”—she nodded to his foot— “you’ll be a ghost yourself shortly.”

  Chelsea heard a familiar giggle. Beatrice.

  “I’ve called an ambulance. They should be at the hotel entrance.” Darcy said. She patted her purse, a sign to Chelsea to check her phone.

  Anton shook his head, then limped back toward the hotel. He paused and looked back at Chelsea. “We not finished, you know. There’s no place in Hollywood that you can hide. I’ll find you and get my revenge.”

  Mrs. Birkland intervened. “I assume, Mr. Stammer, you realize that we can not abide having your project filmed here. You will have to find another place, if another place will have you.”

  He scowled, ready to shout more threats, but Darcy pulled him away.

  “Now Chelsea”—Mrs. Birkland squeezed her shoulder —“May I address you as Chelsea?”

  Her cell phone chimed. I’ve got his gun and the memory cards. Brandon has the tape recorder, Darcy’s text read.

  “Chelsea, I’d like you to consider staying here in Haven Harbor,” Mrs. Birkland said. “We protect all people of extraordinary talents and multiple cultures. As long as you live in Haven Harbor and as long as your heart is pure with no ill-will toward others, you’ll never have to worry about discovery and exploitation again. You certainly will never have to worry about that director buffoon.”

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “I didn’t know a place like this existed. This is my dream.”

  “And now it can be your reality,” Brandon said.

  She turned and discovered Brandon standing by Hannah, a huge grin on his face. “You knew Haven Harbor would take me in?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “But I’m glad I know it now.”

  “I’m surprised, though, that you didn’t use your moonstone,” Mrs. Birkland said.

  She spun back to Mrs. Birkland. “What do you mean?”

  “If you rub the moonstone across your skin, it causes a chemical reaction that protects you from the impact of the moon.”

  “The moonstone?” She’d tried just about every chemical in creation in her attempt to find a moon block, but she’d not tried a moonstone. The words from Serena’s mother echoed in her brain, some use it for protection. Was she suggesting there were other Nevidimi here? She removed the necklace from her pocket. “You mean I’ve had the answer to my phase difficulties in my pocket this whole time? I thought it just looked like the moon. I never suspected…”

  The prospect of living in this community was suddenly extremely appealing, except for one rather important detail.

  “What about Brandon?” she asked. “Is he allowed to live in Haven Harbor as well?”

  “If he likes. We welcome all who believe in religious tolerance.”

  Chelsea turned toward him. “What do you think?”

  “I’m more of a big city guy,” he reminded her with a sad smile. “I doubt my job is waiting for me in New York. Honestly, I don’t think I’d want it anymore even if it still exists. But New York has other papers.”

  “There’s work for you here in Haven Harbor,” Hannah said. “Editor-in-chief. It’s yours if you want it. Or you could find work in Boston until you learn to appreciate the advantages of a small operation. It’s close enough for a commute.”

  “We have a small house available, if you’d like it,” Mrs. Birkland continued. “Of course, if you want to buy something larger, that’s always an option as well.”

  Chelsea walked over to Brandon and took his hands in hers. “What do you think? Will you stay here with me? At least until I get settled?” She smiled up at him, hoping her heart didn’t shine too brightly in her eyes. “Do you think you can live with the Hollywood Ghost?”

  He pressed his forehead to her semi-transparent one.

  “Absolutely.”

  He found her lips with unerring accuracy. Her heart melted with the passion of his kiss. If only she had known earlier. This ghost thing wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter 11

  The doorbell rang. Her two cats brought back from Los Angeles dashed into hiding in a blur of black and orange. The poor things hadn’t adjusted to their new environment yet. But they would. She smiled. She was adapting remarkably fast.

  She open
ed the door.

  “Trick or Treat!” Three of Haven Harbor’s little monsters stood on her doorstep. She’d painted their faces earlier in the day in both scary and creative designs. She tossed candy in the sacks of Bobby Spiderman, Princess Felicia and scary lion Charlie, then said a little prayer of gratitude. Already she was beginning to know the youth of the community, which was more than she’d ever known in any of her previous residences. She was a part, a proud part, of this welcoming community of witches. Waving to the mothers that stood on the sidewalk, she set her candy caldron aside for the next round of costumed visitors, then returned to the task of preparing for the Samhain Ball which would be held after the time for candy collection had passed.

  The doorbell rang again.

  She picked up the plastic caldron and opened the door.

  “Trick or Treat…definitely a treat,” Brandon said, ogling her from head to toe.

  Heat rose to her cheeks as she ushered him inside and closed the door.

  “You look truly edible,” he said, swooping her into his arms. “In fact, we could skip the ball and celebrate ourselves a little more privately.” His hands glided along her waist and hips, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

  “Stop that,” she scolded lightly. “You know I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” Which was fairly close to the entire time she’d been an official resident of Haven Harbor, and not a visitor from Los Angeles. She set the caldron aside and turned to receive his kiss. He pouted disappointment, but she knew he was curious about the ball as well.

  “Well. You look perfect. I wouldn’t mind seeing that dress out for a walk in the moonlight.”

  She laughed, knowing full well, there was a new moon tonight. No need to worry about fading to nothingness. She was lucky to find the royal blue dress that emphasized her figure on such short notice. The neckline was scooped low but was perfect for a handy moonstone necklace. She wondered if Beatrice, the proprietor of the dress store had anything to do with the find.

  “I’ve got some good news,” he said. “You’re looking at the newest sportswriter for the Boston Globe.”