Blood and Midnight

Chapter 1

1

HALEY

The blood on my boots was still wet when I stepped inside.

My weapons needed a good cleaning too, but the novitiate asked me to leave the daggers and stakes at the entrance, and I obliged.

The Temple of the Dark Moon, she reminded me, was a holy place.

Right.

Appropriately chastised, I nodded and followed the swish of her long black robes across the threshold, my eyes widening as the interior came into view.

The temple had probably been beautiful once, but now it lay in ruins. Half the ceiling had caved in, and broken pillars of onyx and moonstone flanked the inner sanctuary, several of them reduced to rubble. Deep, angry gouges scored the masonry as if some feral god-beast had been locked up inside.

Everything smelled like rot and death.

What the hell happened here?

Hoping whatever it was had already been dealt with, I lowered my eyes and quickened the pace.

“Yours?” the novitiate asked from beneath her dark hood, and I knew she meant the blood I’d tracked across the chipped marble floor. I wondered if she’d be the one mopping it up later or if that would be my job now—one of the many menial tasks the Goddess surely had in store for me.

“No.” I scraped the toe of my boot along the floor and left another smear, which was about all the acknowledgment the previous owner of the blood deserved. “Listen, I’m sorry about the mess, but I was summoned here kind of last-minute and I didn’t really have time to… I mean… Should I bathe before I meet her?” I dragged the back of my hand across my forehead, skin gritty with dirt and sweat and probably more blood. “Maybe do a purifying juice cleanse or… something?”

With a serene smile, the novitiate lowered her hood and said, “The Goddess Melantha does not require purity of body. Only purity of intent.”

She looked younger than I expected—only a teenager—and she wasn’t a witch. Just a regular human girl. I wondered what she’d done to end up a servant in the realm of the Dark Goddess, a place you couldn’t even access without being summoned by the deity herself, then portaled in by her magick. Ruined or not, this temple was more than just a holy place—it existed in a liminal space all its own, nothing but stars and darkness as far as the eye could see.

Didn’t the girl have parents? Friends? Someone missing her on the other side?

A sharp pain lanced my heart, but I breathed through it. I had no idea how long the girl had been here, but this was merely day one for me, and I had a long road ahead. I needed to stay grounded. Committed.

“How will she know my intentions are pure?” I asked. “Is there a test?”

“Fear not, Daughter of Darkwinter. I’m certain Her Holiness will be quite impressed with your offering.”

Ignoring the Darkwinter bit, I forced a smile and scratched the back of my neck, sneaking a covert whiff of my armpit.

Let’s hope her Holiness is impressed with Eau de Urban Warfare, because that’s about all I’m offering at the moment…

“Come. She’s expecting you.” Still wearing a look of pure serenity, she continued on through a doorway at the back of the temple sanctuary, gesturing for me to follow.

The antechamber was small and intimate, much less imposing than the main temple. The warm glow of hundreds of candles flickered across plain mud walls and a low ceiling, the ground nothing but bare earth. My boots sank into it with every step, and as the scents of candle wax and dirt washed over me, I let out a sigh of relief.

This room, at least, had remained untouched by whatever monster had gone batshit crazy in the sanctuary.

My eyes adjusted to the candlelight, my gaze drifting to the stone altar in the center of the room—a large slab covered in fresh flowers and bowls of fruit, ringed by votive candles in red glass orbs.

Offerings, I assumed. For the…

Oh, s**t.

I gasped as I finally spotted the boy, no more than ten or eleven, lying in repose on the altar. His skin was milk white, the robe they’d dressed him in much too large, as if it was borrowed in haste from someone much older.

Someone much closer to death than this child should’ve been.

“How did he pass?” I whispered.

“He didn’t.” The novitiate frowned. “Melantha’s son is very much alive.”

“Her son?” I couldn’t hide my shock. The Dark Goddess was tens of thousands of years old—probably older. Lots of witches prayed to her, worshipped her, wrote volumes about her history and magick. I’d never once heard of a child. “How long has he been like this?”

“Six months.” She sighed, running her fingers through the sweep of dark hair across his forehead. “He was cursed by a dark fae warlord called Keradoc. A vicious monster who punishes children for the sins of their parents.”

An icy shiver ran down my spine. Dark fae were powerful, but Melantha was a dark goddess. The dark goddess. How could a fae warlord have gotten anywhere near her child? And what sin could she have committed to provoke such terrible retribution?

“He’s alive,” the novitiate continued, “but his soul is trapped in moonglass.” She retrieved a small wooden chest from the offerings at his side, opening it to reveal a glass-like sphere as delicate as a soap bubble. At her gentle touch, it glowed with a bright, pearlescent sheen. “It’s made from pure moonlight, cast with dark fae magick that’s been banned for thousands of years.”

“Because it’s a prison,” I said, disgust churning inside. It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered moonglass. According to legend, the very first fae created it by deceiving the moon into lending the fae her light, then forging the magickal globes to trap the souls of their enemies. Eventually, they’d release those souls into the most hostile fae realms, sentencing them to an eternity of torment. “How did this happen?”

She met my eyes, but her serene smile was gone, replaced now with a look of grim determination. “What matters, Daughter of Darkwinter, is that you alone can free him.”

“Me? But… how?”

“Breaking the curse requires the blood of the one who cast it.”

“Keradoc. Of course.” I blew out a breath, the tightness in my muscles loosening as the pieces clicked into place. I was a blood witch—a damned good one at that. Melantha needed me to do some sort of spell to help the child. “So, when do we start?”

“You will travel to his realm as soon as possible,” she replied. “Once you’ve extracted the blood, you’ll return to the Temple of the Dark Moon to perform the spell with Melantha, breaking the curse and—”

“Wait. Did you just…” I blinked at her, my mind racing to keep up. “You don’t have his blood? Then how can I do the spell?”

“As I said, once you return to the Temple—”

“Her Holiness expects me to hunt this guy down? Some psychotic warlord from a realm I’ve never been to?”

She arched an eyebrow, as if in warning. “Her Holiness granted you untold strength and power in your time of need, for which you so eagerly pledged your service.”

Tension simmered in the air as she glared at me, making my skin hot and itchy.

“I know. It’s just…” I took a breath, trying to regroup. Who was this girl, anyway? Where were the other novitiates? Melantha’s soldiers? “Forgive me, but when Her Holiness summoned me, I was under the impression I’d be meeting with her elite guard.”

“Elite? Hardly.” A bitter laugh rang out through the small chamber. “No honor among them. No fortitude. I’m sorry, but the Guard of the Dark Moon is no more.”

A prickle of unease tingled at the back of my mind. What the hell did “no more” mean?

Fired? Furloughed? Executed?

Crushed to death by falling pillars?

None of this made any sense.

I paced before the altar, my sudden movement snuffing out a few of the votives. “The guards are gone, so now it’s on me to assassinate some creepy warlord?”

“Not assassinate, no. If Keradoc dies before we perform the spell, the blood will be useless.” She grabbed a taper candle and touched it to one of the votives, reigniting the flame. “You must retrieve the blood without harming him—without so much as alerting him—or all will be for naught.”

“Are you serious? You just said he’s a warlord!”

“And you’re a formidable blood witch, are you not? One with access to spells and magick you’re only just beginning to tap into.”

“I’m good at what I do, sure. But dark fae warlords? I’m not… Look, you seem… knowledgeable. Clearly, you’re fond of the boy.” I smiled, fighting to keep the desperation from my voice. “Maybe you should go instead? I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things until you get back.” I took the taper from her hand and lit the remaining votives. “See? Already getting the hang of it.”

She pinched one of the flames between her thumb and forefinger, the frustration in her eyes finally boiling over. “One candle remains unlit to honor the darkness that exists in all of us, without which we can never know the light.”

“Right.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I should’ve known that, but I didn’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not the witch for the job. I’ll do anything else she asks of me, but—”

“This is the quest the Goddess has set out for you,” she snapped. The girl was unraveling, her eyes blazing, her voice nearly trembling. “Are you reneging on your sacred vow?”

“No, of course not. I just think we should look at all the options. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can—”

“How dare you question the will of the Goddess!” she bellowed, the force of it making the ground rumble. Her eyes turned a fiery red, two hot embers smoldering in a shadow-dark face. Flames crackled suddenly at her feet, the inferno rising higher and higher until she was completely engulfed.

The mud walls cracked and bubbled around us, and I watched in mute horror as her robes burned away to reveal a body as black as the night sky, pale white serpents slithering around her thighs and torso. Her limbs elongated before my eyes, twisting like those of an ancient tree, hands and feet curling into monstrous talons. Two massive black wings burst from her back and smashed through the walls of the antechamber, each feather dripping with blood.

The altar remained untouched, the boy undisturbed.

I stumbled backward, my heart slamming against my ribs.

The novitiate.

All along, it was her. Melantha.

And this was her true form. Dark and magnificent. Hideous and terrifying.

I dropped to my knees, half-tripping, half awed, and bowed my head. “Forgive me, Your Holiness. I was wrong to question you.”

Sharp claws pierced the underside of my chin, forcing me to look up and meet her fearsome gaze. I blinked through the pain, ignoring the warm blood trickling down my neck.

“Daughter of Darkwinter,” she said, her voice echoing across the night like a death knell. “If you value the lives of the sisters you fought so bravely to protect in Blackmoon Bay, you will achieve this task. By blood and by blade, as you have promised.”

By blood and by blade.

The words of my spell echoed as clearly as they had the night I’d first spoken them.

Blood of hell, blood of night

I call on the darkness to show us the light

May evil and malice and violence intended

Return to its hosts uprooted, upended

Dark Goddess I bend, Dark Goddess I bow

Hear my petition, and thusly I vow

My service is yours, by blood and by blade

Until my last breath shall deem it unmade.

That night, my allies and I—my sisters among them—had been trapped in a prison compound hidden in the Olympic National Forest. We’d managed to free the prisoners—dozens of witches and other supernaturals captured by human hunters and the corrupt fae they were working for—but soon our enemies surrounded us, outgunning us four to one. They were hybrids—nearly unstoppable beasts with the combined powers of vampires, shifters, and genetically altered super-monsters we couldn’t even identify.

Even with our own formidable team of supernatural heavy-hitters, there was no way we could’ve survived their relentless attack.

In a last, desperate move, I petitioned Melantha for the strength and magick to turn the tides. She answered my call at once, and thanks to her, we earned our victory—first retaking the compound, then finishing the job last night at the Battle of Blackmoon Bay.

The battle for our lives and our home. For everything we held dear.

I glanced down at my boots, the last of the blood soaking into the dirt, along with any hope I had of avoiding this disastrous mission.

If I refused her, everything I was able to accomplish through the spell would be undone. The city of Blackmoon Bay would fall. My sisters—the family I’d only just discovered—would die. And everything we’d fought so hard to save would just…

It would end.

A surge of renewed strength shot through my limbs, my blood simmering with magick. My magick.

“My service is yours,” I said now, repeating the vow I’d made that night. “By blood and by blade. Until my last breath shall deem it unmade.”

“Rise, Daughter of Darkwinter.”

I got to my feet and met her gaze once more, hoping like hell we were done with the Big Goddess Energy show. I’d seen enough of her scary magnificence to fill my nightmares for the next decade, thanks.

Her dark wings fluttered in the breeze, and the same rot and ruin I’d smelled in the sanctuary assaulted my senses. I tried not to recoil.

“Are you prepared to accept this task?” she asked. “To see it through by any means necessary?”

“I am,” I said firmly. I was in it to win it now, no going back. With what I hoped was a confident smile, I asked, “What must I do?”

Melantha extended her arms. One claw held my weapons. The other clutched a glass vial about the size of a tube of lipstick.

After re-securing my stakes and blades, I took the vial and peered inside. Magick swirled beneath the glass, red smoke shot through with threads of black and gold. It was oddly mesmerizing.

“Keradoc dwells in the dark fae realm of Midnight,” she said. “This portal spell will take you there, but you won’t survive it alone. There’s a man in your home realm—also fae—one rumored to have escaped Midnight alive. You must ask for his assistance.”

My heart stalled. All the confidence I’d conjured up evaporated in an instant.

The ground spun out from beneath my feet, and I fell back to my knees, my lungs struggling to suck in air.

Deep inside, beneath all the magick and fire, behind all the parts of myself I’d sharpened into weapons and hardened into shields, a tiny box lay hidden, bolted with iron chains and encased in cement. That box held my darkest, most private pain. All the ghosts that had the power to eat through my very soul.

I’d sealed them away years ago, vowing to never open that box again, no matter how often it called to me. And though it still rattled inside on occasion, for the most part, I’d kept it on strict lockdown.

Until now.

The dark fae realm of Midnight… One rumored to have escaped… Ask for his assistance…

Her words were the bolt-cutters on those iron chains, unleashing all the pain I’d so diligently buried. It seeped into my heart, burning it like hot acid, taunting me from across the long years as if no time had passed at all.

Midnight. The most treacherous realm in the universe, controlled by the darkest of the dark fae. A place where the sun never rose and so much blood had been spilled upon its war-torn lands, the lakes and rivers ran red. Melantha was right—there was no way I’d survive it alone.

And the fae who had?

There was no way I’d survive him, either.

Not again.

“I will return you to the mortal plane,” the Goddess continued, as if I wasn’t falling apart before her eyes. “To the city of—”

“New Orleans,” I whispered, and she nodded, sealing my fate.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

New Orleans. The one place I swore I’d never, ever go. A place that terrified me even more than Midnight.

No, not because of the ghosts that haunted the city’s many cemeteries and historic landmarks.

Because of the ghosts that haunted my heart. The ones she’d just set loose.

“And this… this fae,” I said, still unable to speak his name out loud, even after all these years. “If he refuses to help me?”

Her black lips twisted into a cruel grin, her wings spreading to their full, terrifying span. The ground rumbled beneath her feet, but instead of flames, skulls rose from the dirt, a dead army blooming at her command.

Behind me, a portal opened, ready to ferry me to New Orleans.

To him.

“Convince him, Darkwinter,” Melantha hissed. “Or the ones you claim to love will suffer the consequences of your failure.”

I nodded and took a deep breath.

Fought off an onslaught of memories—strong hands sliding into my hair. Eyes the color of molten silver. Promises whispered, promises broken. The salty taste of tears and the dull ache of wounds that never fully healed.

I took a step backward, then another.

Closed my eyes.

And tumbled, ass over teakettle, into my own private hell.