THE HANGED MAN

Daughter Of The Moon #2

by

H.P. MALLORY
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 THE HANGED MAN
Copyright © 2024 by H.P. Mallory
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.
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 TABLE OF CONTENTS:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EXCERPT A GHOSTLY GUARDIAN
ALSO BY HP MALLORY
ALSO IN PARANORMAL WOMEN’S FICTION
ABOUT HP MALLORY

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 CHAPTER ONE
The French doors flew open with a bang, making the paintings on the
wall tremble.
I stormed into the living room of the castle, my heart pounding like a
wild animal. The smell of cinder and char clung to my nostrils, a
suffocating reminder of the hell hounds that had attacked just moments
ago…
Hell hounds? God, what in the crazy shit had my life become?
The memory of the attack was still so foreign—and so completely
unbelievable, I had a hard time believing it could actually be real—that
what just occurred had really happened. But yes, it was true—every bit of
it! The exact moment I’d decided to accept my role as a Daughter of the
Moon, the horrible creatures had suddenly appeared and seemed hellbent
(no pun intended) on ripping me apart.
As the memory of what I’d just survived continued to play out in my
mind, panic clawed its way up my throat all over again. In response, I bent
over, resting my hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath. As far as I
could tell, Luke and Magnus had eliminated the threat so now it was just a
matter of coming to grips with the last thirty minutes of my life.
“Hey, fruitcake, you keep throwin’ them doors open like that, they’re
gonna break one o’ these days,” Rocco said as he nonchalantly sauntered
into the room as if Tarot Castle received hell hound visitors every week.
Yolanda dangled from one of his horns, bobbing up and down as she
blabbered on about something I couldn’t make out and didn’t want to.
Still gasping for air, I couldn’t respond. Instead, my chest heaved as I
tried to fully come to terms with what in the hell was going on and the more
important question: how could I get myself out of it ASAP?
“So, boss, you, uh, order that pizza yet… or what?” Rocco continued,
his goat hooves striking the hardwood floors with a hollow resonance as he
came closer. “You forget I like me the meat lovers kind?” Then he eyed me
narrowly. “Don’t go messin’ it all up with none o’ that green stuff, okay
Charlie?”
But I still couldn’t respond. It actually felt like my mouth suddenly
didn’t work. And my brain was still trying to process everything I’d just
experienced and couldn’t focus on anything else.
 “Hey! I’m talkin’ ‘ere!” Rocco’s New York mobster accent grew more
pronounced as he clomped right up to me and shoved his big, white head
into my line of sight. “Your brain on the fritz inside o’ there or what,
twinkle toes?”
“No!” I finally managed, yelling out the word as I straightened up to
face the two of them.
“What she sayin’?” Rocco whispered to Yolanda.
I, meanwhile, wondered what I was supposed to do next. I mean, what
constituted proper protocol after being attacked by demon hounds? How did
one formally declare her resignation to the moon? Or was that even an
option? I had this really bad feeling it wasn’t.
“No?” Rocco repeated as he glared at me once more.
And that was when I completely lost it. “No, I didn’t order your
fucking pizza!”
“An’ why the hells not?” he huffed, narrowing his already weird eyes at
me. “You got somethin’ ‘gainst pizza or what?”
“What’s she got ‘gainst pizza?” Yolanda echoed in her high-pitched
accent that still reminded me of Rosie Perez.
“No, I didn’t order your goddamned pizza and no, I’ve got nothing
against pizza!”
Seriously, I had no time for idiotic conversations. My life was falling
apart right in front of me and yet, here we were...
“Sure sounds like she do,” Yolanda grumbled.
“Yeah, boss, yakkity-yak gots a good point. Why ya holdin’ out on us,
huh?”
And that was when I lost it for the second time—it was the moment
when everything descended on me at once like a storm cloud of
impossibility and my temper overtook my self-control. “I didn’t order your
fucking pizza because I was too fucking busy trying to protect myself
against fucking hell hounds, that’s why!”
“Whoa! Don’t get yer panties in a twist, boss,” Rocco said, standing up
on his back legs so he could raise his front hooves in a placating gesture.
Meanwhile, Yolanda swung back and forth, looking like she was about to
slide right off his horn.
“I don’t have the strength to deal with either one of you right now,” I
whispered hoarsely, worrying I was about to have a full-blown panic attack.
 Rocco studied me pointedly as he dropped back down on all fours.
“Now, when ya say ya was protectin’ yerself ‘gainst ‘fuckin’ hell hounds’—
was that just a figger o’ speech or was they actually fuckin’?”
I just stared at him in silence for a long moment until the absurdity of
my situation started beating on my brain again and all I could do was shake
my head. “I don’t have time for this,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
“You ain’t got time fer what, swizzle stick?” the goat demanded. “I’d
order my own danged pizza but I ain’t got the fingers necessary fer bangin’
out them numbers on the phone, capiche? I ain’t makin’ this up.”
“And I ain’t got no hands at all!” Yolanda added.
“That’s ‘cause you ain’t nuthin’ but a head, jerky.” Then Rocco looked
at me again. “So, whadd’ya say, boss? You gonna get me my pizza or
what?”
And that was when I lost it for the third time. “I almost got torn to
shreds by monstrous things that aren’t supposed to be real and all you can
think about is pizza?”
“Well,” Rocco started but I interrupted him.
“What is wrong with you?” Actually, that question should have been
addressed to me since I was still standing here, continuing to talk to the two
of them! What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I hightailing it to my Jeep
and getting the hell out of Dodge? What was wrong with me that I wasn’t
currently thinking up the quickest way to extricate myself from the pledge
I’d made to the moon?
“Ya musta been takin’ a turn too many with the hash pipe, baby,”
Rocco continued, his furry eyebrows reaching for the ceiling, “‘cause ye’re
talkin’ real crazy like.”
“Real crazy like,” Yolanda echoed.
Before I could respond, the French doors flew open once more and
Magnus burst into the room like a tornado of enormous man, ashes and
fury. His jeans and shirt were singed with burn marks, evidence of his too-
close encounter with the hell hounds. He looked like he’d just braved a war
zone, and judging by the crazed look in his eyes, I was worried that his
siege of terror wasn’t over.
“What the ‘ells happened to Fabio?” Rocco called out, whistling as he
looked at Magnus and shook his head. “‘e looks like ‘e got thrown inta the
dryer with a campfire, ya knows what I’m sayin’?”
 “What part of ‘hell hounds attacking’ us don’t you understand?” I
demanded from the completely useless goat.
“Shitballs, I thought you was just exaggeratin’!”
“Well, I wasn’t!”
“Is she sayin’ what I think she’s sayin’?” Yolanda asked.
“That depends on whatcha think she’s sayin’, ding-dong.”
“Are there really demons loose in the ‘ouse?” Yolanda asked, her
piercing tone of voice pitching even higher.
“Yes!” I screamed.
“Oh, my gawd!” she squealed at the same time that Magnus
approached me.
“Daughter of the Moon!” he yelled out in his strangely monotone voice
that was totally devoid of any sort of emotion. “Are you injured?”
He didn’t wait for me to respond before he was already taking the last
few steps that separated us, concern now mixing with that ape shit crazy
look in his eyes. When Rocco sauntered into his path, Magnus simply
pushed the goat out of his way, sending Rocco sprawling—a sight that
might have been funny if I’d been in a different frame of mind.
“Hey, what’s the big idea, bub?” Rocco called out.
“What the fuck was that back there, Magnus?” I yelled at the giant, my
voice shaking as the memory of snarling lips, beady black eyes with
glowing red irises, and smoldering black fur flashed through my mind all
over again.
Magnus met my gaze with an inscrutable expression and answered,
“Hell hounds.”
And… some things never changed.
“Jesus freaking Christ,” I grumbled as I shook my head for the nth time
and wondered how in the world I could free myself from the mountain of
shit my life had just become.
“Daughter of the Moon...”
“Stop calling me that!” I yelled at him, wanting to get as far as possible
from anything having to do with this new identity of mine. “I have a real
name!”
Actually, I wasn’t even sure Magnus knew what my name was—at
least, he’d never bothered using it before. He might have been well-
endowed in physique, but that was about it.
 As if he hadn’t heard me, Magnus walked right up to me, and the
intensity I glimpsed in his eyes made me take a step back. Rocco and
Yolanda, meanwhile, continued rattling on about hell hounds and pizza, but
I didn’t absorb much more than that. Not when Magnus was now reaching
for the hem of my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I demanded as I sidestepped him and then
abruptly smacked his hands away.
“I must check the Daughter of the Moon for wounds she might have
suffered from the hell hounds.” With that, he reached for the hem of my
shirt again like he planned to yank it over my head.
“Get the hell away from me!” My face flushed with indignation as I
slapped him away again.
“I ‘ad me a good idea that sasquatch was a pervert,” Rocco said as he
approached us again. “Now, what’re we gonna do ‘bout them demon dogs,
boss? Is they still out there, runnin’ ‘round or what?”
“You think they eat dog food?” Yolanda asked.
“I dunno, rubber neck, but that don’t matter none ‘cause we ain’t got no
dog food.”
I, meanwhile, continued to attempt to protect myself from Magnus who
seemed more than determined to strip me naked. God, he was so annoying!
“Magnus, stop being such a creep!”
“As your protector, it is my duty to ensure—” the perverted sasquatch
started to explain as he reached out to me again.
“Quit it!” I snapped, swatting his hands away once more. “I’m fine!”
“I must judge for myself.”
As he reached for me again, I slapped his hands away again and
imagined we probably looked like two prairie dogs duking it out over a turf
war.
“I think I’d freaking well know if I’d gotten hurt, you idiot!”
Magnus hesitated, his stern demeanor softening just slightly before he
sidestepped me once more, and this time, he went for the hem of my pants,
trying to yank them down my legs! That, however, was no easy task ever
since the moon had given me thighs the width of my head.
“Back off, Magnus! You are seriously starting to piss me off!” I yelled
and seeing an opportunity, I pulled my leg back, then kicked it out,
slamming my sneaker sharply into his shin. He immediately screamed out
something in a language unknown to this world (since Magnus was from
another dimension) and bent over. Cradling the offended appendage before
hopping up and down on his good leg, he looked like he was about to break
into a Russian folk dance.
“Serves you right,” I grumbled.
Just then, the French doors opened again and, this time, Luke walked
in, raising his eyebrows at the commotion.
“Everything okay in here?” he asked cautiously, casting a glance
between Magnus and me. Just as Magnus had, Luke was also covered in
ashes and soot from dealing with the vicious hell hounds.
As soon as I saw him, the serpent that was my temper was suddenly
unleashed once more and a flame of fiery anger spiraled up inside me.
Because everything that had just happened—including how I was very
nearly ripped to shreds—it was all Luke’s fault!
“You’re the last person I want to see right now,” I yelled at him, and all
the anger, shock and panic that had momentarily disappeared (probably
owing to my attempts to keep myself clothed) suddenly culminated with a
vengeance.
Luke flinched, looking guilty as he took a deep breath before raising
his hands in surrender. “I understand why you’re angry with me—”
“Angry with you?” I interrupted with an acidic laugh, my shrill voice
rising to a near-shriek while I threw my hands on my hips and put
everything I had into glaring at him. “Anger doesn’t even begin to cover it!”
“Kate, I—” he stammered. “This attack was as much of a surprise to
me as it was to you.”
“Surprise?” I laughed again, still without any mirth. “You call that a
surprise?” I took a step closer to him. “That wasn’t a surprise—it was a
disaster!”
“It was what it was,” Luke replied, regaining some of his composure as
he faced me with a frown, “but what I can tell you now is that the threat has
been eradicated.”
“Do that mean them dogs is gone?” Rocco asked but no one responded.
I’d already figured the hell hounds were destroyed once Magnus
returned to the castle—I mean, he had made pretty quick work of them
outside. But that didn’t mean I now had the warm and fuzzies. No, instead, I
was brimming with a shit load of questions that Luke had damned well be
ready to answer. “How the hell did hell hounds get onto the property in the
first place? Didn’t Artemis protect this place?”
 I mean, my deceased aunt had put a spell on the staircase so you
couldn’t break your neck on the stairs first thing in the morning, so
wouldn’t it have followed that she would have idiot-proofed the whole
place?
“Actually,” Luke admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I
did a perimeter walk just now, because I wanted to get an answer to that
exact question—”
“—And?”
“And I found a specific location where the wards were missing.”
“Missing?” I echoed as I asked myself what in the hell a ward was and
figured it was probably the magical equivalent of an electrical fence or
something. “How could that even happen?”
“Sometimes wards can be disrupted by natural forces, like erosion or…
well… burrowing animals,” Luke explained.
“Burrowing animals?” I repeated with a frown.
“So, whatcha sayin? Do we got us some like demon rabbits or
somethin’?” Rocco interjected, clomping over to Luke.
“Nope, I can’t deal with no demon rabbits,” Yolanda said and I was
fairly sure that if she’d had arms to cross, they would have been folded
across her chest.
Luke’s attention remained on me. “In this case, I think it might’ve been
a squirrel or something that burrowed underneath the fence, thus causing a
gap in the wards.”
“Seriously? A squirrel?” I nearly shouted, the absurdity of the whole
situation landing on me like a ton of bricks. “Wouldn’t Artemis have taken
burrowing squirrels into account? I mean, why even bother with the wards
if they can just be undone by a burrowing squirrel?”
And that was one sentence I never imagined would come out of my
mouth.
“Squirrels do not burrow,” Magnus suddenly piped up.
Luke nodded. “Okay, maybe it was a mole or a badger or something
similar.”
“Actually, ya ain’t got that right, big guy,” Rocco responded as he lifted
his head at Magnus. “Ground squirrels do burrow—an’ I oughta know
‘cause I got stuck watchin’ this nature program once, before that old, dead
broad got me cable.”
 Magnus, who’d been eyeing Luke suspiciously, suddenly perked up.
“Is the offending, burrowing creature nearby? If so, I will dispatch it with
my sword post haste.”
I shook my head for what seemed like the thousandth time since
enduring the ambush by the hell hounds and clenched my eyes shut tightly,
trying to keep my temper contained as best I could. “Can we please get off
the burrowing animal subject for a minute and return to the more important
part of the conversation?”
“The creature is gone, Magnus,” Luke replied as Magnus appeared
visibly disappointed. Luke then turned his attention back to me and gave me
an encouraging smile. “The point I was trying to make is that I’ve repaired
the wards, so we should be safe for now, and yes, Artemis would have taken
into account any disruptions to the wards.”
“So?” I demanded.
“So, that stretch of fence happened to be newly repaired—as far as I
could tell by the fresh wood—and I think she simply forgot to place a ward
on the patched section.”
“Great,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “So not only do
we have hell hounds to worry about, but apparently, squirrels or moles or
whatever the hell can undo magic. This is just terrific.”
“Kate, I’m truly sorry this happened,” Luke said sincerely, his eyes full
of remorse and concern.
“Regardless, that doesn’t explain how those hell hounds found me or
why they were after me in the first place.”
“The Daughter of the Moon is a threat to the Dark Coven,” Magnus
answered, as if whatever he’d just said made even the smallest amount of
sense.
“Magnus, you aren’t allowed to speak for the next… ten minutes,” I
responded icily.
Luke looked at me and laughed until I gave him a visible version of
“You’d better start splainin’, Lucy” and then he got down to brass tacks.
“Now that you’ve accepted the mantle as a Daughter of the Moon,
you’ve become a target.”
“Wait,” I started, clenching my eyes shut again because even though
I’d bitch slapped Luke only a few minutes earlier, I felt the sudden need to
bitch slap him again. “Back the mule train up for a second.” I opened my
eyes and focused on him. “You’re telling me that those ferocious things
knew I’d become a Daughter of the Moon just seconds after I agreed to it?”
I mean, what the fuck?! Were we now dealing with the all-knowing
Eye of Sauron? Or what?
“Unfortunately, yes,” Luke answered solemnly. “Or so I’m assuming.”
“The hell hounds did not act on their own,” Magnus chirped until I
gave him a look that shut him up again.
“What does that mean?” I demanded from Luke. “I mean—what do
you mean that the hell hounds knew about me?”
Luke hesitated for a moment before answering. “Magnus is correct,” he
started.
“I am always correct,” the pain in the ass added. We both ignored him.
“The hell hounds didn’t act on their own impulse,” Luke continued.
“Okay, who gave them their orders then?”
“I have a hunch who sent the hell hounds to attack us,” Luke said, his
eyes fixed on mine.
“Who?” I asked, wondering how many other ways I could ask the same
freaking question.
“Ezra Blackthorn,” he answered on a sigh. Then he breathed in deeply.
“But I need to know that for sure.”
“And how exactly do you plan to find out whether this Ezra guy was
behind the attack?” I demanded.
“Magician magic,” Luke responded with a sly smile.

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 CHAPTER TWO
From beneath his coat, Luke produced a deck of tarot cards, like a
magician preparing to do a magic trick.
But I had a feeling this magic trick wasn’t going to be of the garden
variety. My eyes fell to the intricate designs on the tarot cards before I
brought them back to Luke and watched him close his eyes. He whispered
something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch, and his lips moved in
such a way that I wondered if he was even speaking English.
Suddenly, he threw the cards into the air, but rather than falling to the
ground, they froze, suspended, like I’d just put them on pause. As I stared at
the floating cards, Luke walked between them and closed his eyes again, his
brow furrowing in concentration.
“Guide me to the card that holds the answer I seek,” he mumbled.
A bright light erupted from one of the cards that was only about two
feet from him, illuminating a corner of the room with its glowing intensity.
Luke opened his eyes and reached for the radiant card before glancing
down at it and announcing, “The Hierophant.”
As soon as Luke touched the card, it felt as if a sudden electric charge
filled the room—like we were suddenly overcome with static electricity or
something. Even though it felt ants were currently marching all over my
body, one by one (and no ‘hurrah’), I kept my attention on Luke as he
focused intently on the card, an expression of awe settling on his face.
Barely a second later, he jolted forward, as if he’d just been hit by a bolt of
lightning or stepped on a tack or something.
“Are you okay?” I asked, concern lacing my voice as I took a few steps
towards him.
Magnus held me back with a strong arm, reassuring me with a clipped
nod. “He is fine,” he said softly.
I looked back at Luke, who now appeared to be shaking, with his eyes
closed, and wondered if he was in the process of getting possessed or
something.
“Are you sure?” I asked Magnus, my frown deepening.
“I am,” Magnus responded as I stepped back and he dropped his arm.
But it wasn’t Luke that held my attention this time. Instead, I found myself
watching something beginning to materialize right in front of Luke. It was
an image of a figure seated between two pillars. As the vision shimmered
into more detail before us, I noticed it was a man. He looked pretty old with
his white hair and beard, but his eyes seemed to burn with an otherworldly
wisdom. Actually, he kind of looked like Santa Claus, but with a pretty
decent resting bitch face.
“Hierophant,” Luke said in reverence, before bowing to the old man.
As The Hierophant’s significant presence filled the room, I felt the air
humming with activity, as if all the atoms were vibrating with the
anticipation of what was going to happen next.
“Please,” Luke implored him, his voice steady but urgent, “can you
show me the truth?”
“What truth do you seek?” The Hierophant asked and his voice
sounded strangely like Morgan Freeman.
“Please show me the one who is responsible for sending the hell
hounds to ambush us,” Luke continued.
As soon as Luke finished speaking, more visions began to dance in the
air, obscuring the shape of The Hierophant. These visions started to form a
picture of a cloaked figure, shrouded in shadows and darkness. As we
watched the image taking shape, I realized it was a man underneath the
cloak—mainly because he had big hands. His face was covered, so I
couldn’t tell exactly who he was, not that I expected to recognize him or
anything (although, there were plenty of people from high school who
could have become the Prince of Darkness and I wouldn’t have been
surprised).
He held his hands out before him, and the shadows revolved around
them as he appeared to chant what sounded like the ancient words of some
long-lost language. Or maybe it was Pig Latin—it was hard to tell. As we
watched, the figure began to twirl his hands and the shadows seemed to
respond, turning themselves into the snarling, hellish beasts we’d
encountered earlier. The perpetrator’s face continued to remain hidden,
obscured by the swirling shadows that surrounded him.
Little by little, the shadowy figure began to fade from view, only to
reveal the ethereal form of The Hierophant once again. I blinked, trying to
clear my head of the unnerving images of the hell hounds and whoever the
hell had created them.
“Thank you, Hierophant,” Luke murmured, genuine gratitude coloring
his words. “Your insight and help are invaluable to me.”
 The Hierophant simply nodded like his work here was done and then
disappeared, like he was late heading back to the North Pole for a hot toddy
and a quick romp with Mrs. Claus. The cards that had been suspended in the
air suddenly dropped, but before they could hit the floor, Luke held out his
palm. In response, the cards immediately flew back to him, arranging
themselves into a tidy deck that he promptly returned to his inside his coat
pocket.
The fading image of the shadowy figure that had conjured the hell
hounds lingered in my mind like a warning, and I could feel myself on high
alert—as if the hell hounds could suddenly reappear just as easily as they
had in the vision.
“And?” Magnus demanded, his voice cutting through the tension that
hung heavily in the air.
Luke turned to face him and nodded. “It’s exactly as we thought,” he
replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words. “It was Ezra.”
“But I couldn’t see his face?” I asked, shaking my head.
Luke looked at me and frowned. “What do you mean?”
I gave him a ‘duh’ expression. “I mean—he had a cloak or a hoodie or
something on so I couldn’t see his face.” Then something occurred to me.
“Could you see his face?”
Luke and Magnus were now both staring at me, their expressions
mirroring the same surprise.
“Are you telling me you could see him?” Luke asked me, his brow
furrowing as he clearly attempted to make sense of what I’d just asked him.
“No,” I answered, wondering if the Hierophant had accidentally taken
Luke’s brain with him. “I just told you I couldn’t see him—his face, I
mean.”
“But you saw him?” Luke continued. “The man in the cloak?”
“Um, is this like some weird version of who’s on first?” They both just
continued to look at me like I’d just sprouted a third eye. “Couldn’t
everyone see him?”
“I could not see anyone,” Magnus admitted.
I frowned at him. “What did you see?”
Magnus shrugged. “Nothing. Just the cards that froze in the air.”
“Hmm,” I said, shrugging, as I wondered if this was like colorblindness
or something—apparently, it mostly affected men.
 “Kate, tell me exactly what you saw?” Luke continued so I repeated
everything in as much detail as I could remember and, all the while, Luke
appeared to be more and more impressed.
“Usually, I’m the only one who can observe my own magic—since it’s
specific and particular to me,” he admitted finally. Then he paused, his gaze
thoughtful as he added, “I find it very curious that you could see it too.”
“Well, while that’s cool, I guess,” I started, trying to ignore the unease
that prickled inside me as I also wondered why and how I was able to view
Luke’s magic, “the only important part is that we know who was
responsible for sending the hell hounds… right?”
“Right,” Luke agreed, his voice returning to its firm and resolute tone.
“And now that we know Ezra’s responsible, we can prepare ourselves for
whatever might come next.”
“But how do you know it was Ezra when you didn’t see his face?” I
asked. “Or did you? You kind of left that part out.”
“I didn’t have to see his face to know it was Ezra,” Luke responded.
“Hey, boss!” Rocco called out, before I had the chance to respond to
Luke. “Any chance o’ gettin’ some food in this joint anytime soon? I’m
thinkin’ my stomach mighta started eatin’ itself—an’ I ain’t puttin’ you on!”
“No!” Luke and I yelled back at the same time.
“Sheesh, excuse the hell outta me fer livin’,” Rocco grumbled as he
shook his head, sending Yolanda into a tailspin.
“The hell hounds are under the reign of Ezra Blackthorn,” Luke
continued as he returned his attention to Magnus and me. “And it’s more
than likely he was keeping an eye on the castle. He must have realized you
were ready to become the new Daughter of the Moon, Kate, and decided it
would be a good time to try and take you out.”
“Who the hell is Ezra Blackthorn?” I asked, squelching the surge of
anger at the mere mention of someone trying to take me out. I mean—who
the F did this guy think he was?
“He’s a warlock,” Luke explained with a shrug, like that much should
have been obvious. “And the acting head of the Dark Coven.”
“Just as I said,” Magnus chimed in.
“Dark Coven?” I raised an eyebrow at Luke. “And what exactly is
that?” God, it sounded like a group of virgin goths who got together to
discuss when the cravat might come back into style.
 “They’re magic wielders who allied themselves with shadow and
darkness.”
I frowned. “Okay… and what are they after?”
“They want to remove all the light from the world,” Luke responded
with a shrug, like that much should have been obvious when he mentioned
‘shadow and darkness’.
“And let me guess—as a Daughter of the Moon, I represent the light?”
“Exactly,” he nodded. “There’s no stronger source of light than the
moon.”
“Hey, don’t go tellin’ that to the sun,” Rocco interjected. After
momentarily disappearing into the kitchen, he’d returned and was now
snacking on something that looked like a piece of beef jerky (which,
hopefully, it was because otherwise… gross!)
I looked at him and frowned before turning back to face Luke. “So, are
you ever going to explain to me what it actually means for me to be a
Daughter of the Moon?” I mean, now seemed the best time for that
particular conversation.
Luke nodded. “As a Daughter of the Moon, you are officially a
Celestial Guardian.”
“Okay… and what the hell does that mean?”
“That you’re entrusted with safeguarding all the mystical energies that
are linked to the moon,” Luke said in a tone of utter reverence.
“The mystical energies of the moon?” I repeated, frowning because that
still made zero sense.
Luke nodded. “That includes the moon’s magic, its natural cycles, and
the delicate balance it maintains in the supernatural world.”
Unfortunately for me, my so-called ‘guide’ wasn’t the best when it
came to explaining things at an eighth-grade level. “Safeguarding the moon
against what?”
“The Daughter of the Moon should already know the answers to those
questions,” Magnus Dickhead spouted off.
“Oh, yeah? Well, for your information, the Daughter of the Moon is
currently enrolled in remedial Moon 101 class so stick a sock in it, John
Cena!”
“I do not understand why you insist on calling me names that are not
my own,” the Hulk continued. I just ignored him.
 “There are all kinds of forces out there,” Luke continued with a
chuckle, pulling my attention back to him again, “such as those in the Dark
Coven, which are drawn to the power of the moon, and they’ll stop at
nothing to extinguish its light.”
My mind reeled as I tried to process what he was telling me, but I had
to admit, it sounded like a crock of mumbo-jumbo. “So, what am I
supposed to do now then? Just accept that I’m a walking target for every
supernatural baddie out there?”
“The guardian protects the Daughter of the Moon,” Mr. T said.
“Yeah, and unfortunately, the guardian never knows when or how to
keep his damned mouth shut!” I fired back at him. “Stop interrupting!”
“Hmph,” Magnus ground out as he folded his massive arms across his
equally massive chest and then made a dramatic point of looking away from
me. But he didn’t say another word, so there was that. Where that oaf was
concerned, I was more than willing to take whatever small mercies I could
get.
“Right,” I muttered, frowning at him before I faced Luke again. “So,
what’s the plan now then?”
“First and foremost, we need to strengthen your connection with the
moon in order to unlock the full extent of your powers,” Luke said unfazed.
“The sooner you can start realizing your abilities, the sooner you’ll be able
to defend yourself, and the better off you’ll be.”
“So… just to make sure I have this right,” I started, feeling beyond
overwhelmed and now downright sorry for myself, “in the lapse of maybe
thirty minutes, I just found myself responsible for maintaining the balance
of the supernatural world?”
“Right,” Luke said with just the hint of a smile.
“Stop smiling, because it’s not funny.”
“Right. Sorry.”
I shook my head. “This is just… great—so freaking great on so many
levels that I don’t even know where to start.” I looked over at Rocco who
was now touring the perimeter of the living room, looking out all the
windows—probably in an attempt to see if the hell hounds had returned. Or
maybe he was looking for burrowing ground squirrels—I couldn’t be sure.
Turning back to Luke, I took a deep breath and asked, “So, what’s next?”
“Next, is your training,” he answered, a new sense of purpose burning
in his eyes.
 “Training?” I muttered as I imagined myself in boot camp on steroids.
“Yes. Once you receive your orders, we’ll take it from there.”
“My orders?”
“Do you have to repeat everything I say?” he asked with another smile.
“When it comes to shit that I know nothing about—yes!”
He smiled again—like all of this stuff was no more than an amusing
scene from some sitcom.
“When I said ‘your orders’,” he continued. “I was referring to your
next tarot card—once you receive that, then we can figure out what you
need to learn next.”
“Oh,” I answered as I cocked my head to the side and pondered the
subject. I’d already completed my first lesson—that of The Fool—so I
figured it only made sense that my next lesson would probably be delivered
to me in tarot card form too, just like the first one was. “And the power I
earned from my lesson as the Fool,” I started, wracking my memory for the
name Luke had given that power. But not finding it, I settled on, “freeze-
framing.”
“Time suspension?” Luke offered with another little smirk. At least one
of us was amused, because I certainly wasn’t. No, this was beginning to feel
like the first chapter of the end of my life.
“Whatever,” I frowned. “So is that power—time suspension—is that
like dormant inside me or something?”
“Yes, you can call on it whenever you need to.”
“Cool.” I wasn’t sure what more there was to say on the subject, so I
paused for another second or so. And then everything that had just
happened hit me all over again and I groaned, rubbing my temples because
a tension headache was itching to rear its ugly head again. “This is all so
much to swallow,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “If I’d realized what I was
walking into, I never would have agreed to any of it.”
“Kate, there’s more you… well, more you should know,” Luke said
while wearing a guilty expression—like whatever he had to tell me next
wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear.
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve taken your vow, I can explain
everything I couldn’t tell you before.”
I looked up at him and inhaled a deep breath. “Well, before you tell me
anything else, answer this: once someone takes their vow, is there any
changing the moon’s mind?” He looked a little puzzled, so I continued. “I
mean, like, can I get just one ‘Get out of jail free’ card?”
He gave me a look that implied we should have been long past this
particular conversation and then shook his head. “No.”
“Great!” I answered on a sigh, before pausing to look down at my
Apple watch. “Well, now it looks like my life will be over in… exactly five
minutes.” Or whenever the next nightmare creatures decided to attack me.
“No one can kill or maim the Daughter of the Moon,” Magnus
exclaimed defiantly.
“Yeah, thanks, Hercules,” I grunted, shaking my head as I turned back
to face Luke. “Seeing as how this is a job I can’t just quit, you wanna
continue with your explanation of my duties?”
He nodded. “Over three decades ago, Artemis, myself, and the other
Daughters of the Moon managed to put the threat of the Dark Coven to
bed.”
“Well, apparently, that threat woke the fuck up,” I grumbled before
something dawned on me. “Wait a second… you said, over thirty years
ago?”
He nodded.
“Then?” I started, as I tried to do the math in my head, but failed.
“Then you aren’t in your forties?” I mean, he sure looked like he was in his
forties, but if he was, then didn’t that mean he would have been like ten or
eleven when he tucked the Dark Coven into bed?
Luke chuckled. “Not exactly.”
I swallowed hard. “Then how old are you?”
“Two hundred and forty.”
I swallowed even harder and wondered if the Fountain of Youth was
actually a thing or what. “Wow—so, um, are you like, immortal or
something?”
He shook his head. “No, I control my aging with magic.”
“Oh.” I didn’t really know what more to say, because I was still stuck
on the thread called, ‘Luke is freaking old!’
“Ezra and his hell hounds aren’t the foremost threat to us, Kate,” the
seriously senior citizen continued as I tried to search for any inkling that
might give away the fact that this guy was way older than he appeared. But
the only thing I could find was the way he dressed. I mean, wool sweaters,
trousers and boat shoes were so last century.
 “No?” I asked, forcing myself back into the conversation again. “I
mean, the hell hounds seemed pretty threatening to me.”
“No.”
“Then who is our biggest threat?”
“Lord Valerian Shadowbane.”
“Lord what?” I demanded, shaking my head, because Dude’s name
sounded like something between an STD and a Dungeons and Dragons’
character. But one look at Luke’s face told me he was deadly serious.
“Valerian Shadowbane,” he repeated, his expression growing graver.
“He was the former leader of the Dark Coven as well as an ancient, and
malevolent vampire.”
“Okay, you said ‘was’ like he’s not an ancient and malevolent vampire
anymore. Did he turn into a bat or a wolf or something?” Weren’t those the
only two creatures vampires could change into? “A golden retriever?” I
couldn’t help but smile at that image.
“Not exactly.”
“So, what’s the story?”
“He’s been frozen dormant in an eternal sleep.”
“Well, hopefully Prince Charming doesn’t mistake Lord Venereal for
Snow White because the last thing I want to deal with is waking him up,” I
muttered.
“Touche,” Luke laughed—at least one of us could. “We’ll discuss
Valerian more at some later time, but for now, it’s mostly important that you
focus your concentration on becoming the Celestial Guardian you were
meant to be.” As if sensing my apprehension, he added, “I know this is a lot
to take in, Kate, but remember, you’re not alone.”
“The Daughter of the Moon is never alone,” my own personal gorilla
added.
“Exactly,” Luke agreed, not missing a beat.
“Then that other dude—Blackhead?” I started to ask.
Luke shook his head. “Blackthorn.”
“The one who sent the hell hounds after me?” Luke nodded. “Is he like
Shadowbane’s bitch or something?”
Luke chuckled. “Ezra is Valerian’s second-hand man—he’s a warlock
with an ancient lineage who has an insatiable hunger for power. Since
Valerian’s disappearance, Ezra has been the one in charge.”
 “Great. Sounds like the bad guys did a good job of recruiting.” I took a
deep breath. “So, I’m assuming Ezra wants his boss to wake up, am I
right?”
Luke nodded. “It’s Ezra’s primary goal to awaken Valerian and, in
doing so, he will bring the Dark Coven together once more.”
“Okay and what’s keeping Ezra from just waking ol’ fang-face up with
his magic? I mean, he’s supposed to be a powerful wizard, right?”
“He’s a warlock.”
“Whatever.”
Another smile. “It’s not that simple, Kate.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing—no one knows where Valerian’s body lies.”
I frowned. “So… is it like lost, or misplaced, or what?” How in the hell
could anyone manage to misplace or lose the body of an evil and ancient
vampire?
“Not lost—Artemis was the one who saw to it that Valerian was placed
somewhere that no one would ever find him and… well, the whereabouts of
that place died when Artemis did.”
“So, why can’t you just ask her to tell you where Dude’s buried in one
of her famous posthumous letters that keep stalking me wherever I go?”
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. It’s better that no one knows
where Valerian’s hiding place is—that way, the information can’t end up in
the wrong hands.”
I stared at him, trying to process the gist of what he was saying. “So,
without Lord Vagina, the Dark Coven isn’t such a big threat?”
“Not entirely,” Luke answered as he cocked his head to the side and
raised his eyebrows at me, like maybe he was getting tired of my attitude.
Well, join the club! I wouldn’t have even had an attitude if I’d known all of
this before, in which case I’d never have chosen such a messed up career
path.
“As you witnessed earlier,” Luke continued, “they are still a threat—
but just not as big of a threat as they once were.”
“So, what? Once Shadowbane joins the illustrious ranks of his Dark
Coven, do those hell hounds get upgraded into dinosaurs or something?”
“No.”
“Then?” I shrugged.
“All I’m saying is that Valerian is the leader—the brawn, if you will.”
 “I could best him in battle,” the orangutan in the corner triumphantly
pointed out.
“Valerian is not a man to be trifled with,” Luke responded over his
shoulder.
“Neither is Magnus Stormrider.”
“Do you remember when I asked if I could return my guardian for a
new one?” I demanded of Luke.
“I do recall that, yes.”
“Is it possible to do that now?”
“The guardian cannot be returned,” the buffoon replied.
Luke shrugged. “He’s right.”
“Son of a bitch,” I sighed.
“It matters not to the guardian if he is liked.”
I took another deep breath. “Do you remember how Artemis told me
I’d get a guardian, a guide, and a friend?” Luke nodded. “What about a
psychiatrist? Did she mention anything about that? Because I’m fairly sure
some Prozac might do me a world of good at this precise moment.”
“You’re doing just fine, Kate,” Luke insisted, giving me that handsome
smile of his that did something to my insides. “And maybe it’s a good time
to mention that I haven’t seen you smoke a cigarette even once since you
got here.”
While he was correct, and I’d basically kicked my nicotine habit, I
wasn’t sure how he knew that since my smoking habit wasn’t something I’d
ever shared with anyone. “How did—”
“—Artemis told me,” he answered with a knowing smile.
“Right—just like she told you I was self-conscious about my figure and
wanted to trade it in for a giant ass?”
He chuckled. “You were a beautiful woman before, Kate, and you’re
just as beautiful now. In my eyes, you haven’t changed a bit.”
Well, shit! What was I supposed to say to that? I was pretty sure my
face turned every shade of red. Why? Because this was the first time Luke
had ever admitted to seeing me as anything more than a super annoying
moron who was extremely unprepared for this calling. So, he thought I was
beautiful? Hmm… I mean—who was I to argue with that?
“Magnus Stormrider—” the irritant in the corner suddenly butted in.
“—I already know you have superior sperm you want to donate to my
worthy cause, Magnus,” I said, holding up my hand as I shook my head.
“And just like last time you volunteered, my answer is still ‘thanks, but no
thanks’.”
“That was not what I was going to say.”
“Well, why don’t you keep whatever you were going to say to yourself
because everyone loves a mystery, right?”
“Hmph,” Magnus responded as he pointedly turned away from me
again.
I looked back at Luke who was doing his best to suppress a smile and I
felt myself breaking into one despite having to endure the world’s most
irritating guardian—one that wanted to pump me full of his illustrious
sperm in order to make lots of warrior babies.
Jesus, life was definitely stranger than fiction.
“Getting back on the topic,” I started as Luke nodded. “Knowing that
Lord Perineum is still lost is the only reason why you termed the current
threat level ‘low to medium’?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Right.”
“Um, do I need to remind you that the Ezra guy nearly killed us just
now?” I demanded, feeling my pulse start to race again at the fresh image of
the memory.
“Magnus Stormrider was not nearly killed just now,” ‘he who will not
be killed’ spouted out.
I ignored him and continued staring at Luke. “I mean, if the Dark
Coven is such a non-issue, why did what just happened even happen?” I
took a breath. “And how did this Ezra guy even know I was here or that I
was becoming a Daughter of the Moon in the first place?”
Luke swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with concern. “I’m not
saying they aren’t a threat, Kate. And as to exactly how much Ezra knows
about you, I’m going to do my best to find out.”
“And how the hell do you plan to do that?” I asked, throwing my hands
up into the air in mute frustration. “Is the moon going to send us Nancy
Drew or something?”
“No,” Luke answered, giving me a look. “In case you forgot the whole
Hierophant situation that just happened, I’ll remind you that I also possess
magic.”
“Because you’re a wizard?”
“Magician—I’m the Magician.” Okay, did that mean there was only
one?
 “Right, so you can like… cast some kind of weird spell that can tell
you what Ezra was after or what the hell he knows about me?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then?”
He gave me a crooked smile. “I’m going to consult the tarot cards.”
“Of course,” I grumbled, shaking my head again as I attempted to
ignore the cold shiver that ran down my spine at the thought of what more
could possibly lie ahead.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THREE
Two Days Later
The clickity-clack of my fingers on the laptop keyboard filled the air as
I sat at my almost miniature desk in my bedroom, and worked on my new
fantasy romance manuscript.
Surrounding me (literally from the floor to the ceiling) were colorful
depictions of the Fool, reminding me of the first journey I’d embarked on
before becoming a Daughter of the Moon. Yes, I’d made a note to myself to
remodel the bedroom because it was annoying at best and headache-
inducing at worst. At least, I’d managed to clean up everything that wasn’t a
permanent fixture. That included the Fool figurines that used to sit atop the
dresser and were now inside a box in the closet (which wasn’t much of a
closet, owing to the fact that the doors had been smashed to smithereens by
Magnus, when he’d first arrived here), along with the Fool-shaped lamp
that used to be on the desk. And I’d simply flipped over the super
obnoxious patchwork quilt that featured a collage of symbols of the Fool so
now it just looked like a common red quilt.
But back to my book—I’d been working on it feverishly for the past
two days. My publisher, Janice, was eagerly awaiting the next three
chapters, and I was determined to deliver them on time.
It had been two days, I typed out the words with a flourish of
excitement and energy. Previously, I’d been a historical romance writer,
mainly focused on the Highlands of Scotland. But my sales had been
beyond lagging over the last few years and now, with Janice’s
encouragement, I was trying my hand at fantasy romance.
Two days since Magnus, Lucaster and I had defeated the demon
dinosaurs.
My fingers flew across the keys, weaving the tale of my main
character, Caterina, who was a badass demon slayer. And while I certainly
wasn’t any demon slayer, Caterina’s adventures with her two love interests
seemed to consistently echo my own (minus the two love interests). While I
might have had an itty-bitty crush on Luke, I was pretty sure he didn’t
return it and as for Magnus? No! Just no. Currently, Caterina was awaiting
her orders from an unseen comrade, much like the mandates I was
expecting to receive from the tarot cards.
But, so far, I’d received nothing.
 And two days had never felt so long. Right—it had been two days since
Magnus, Luke, and I were attacked by Ezra’s hell hounds. Two days I’d
spent waiting for the next tarot card to reveal itself, guiding me toward my
next lesson and the power that would come from mastering that lesson. Two
days that felt like two decades.
Just focus on the book, I thought to myself, trying to keep my
frustration in check. With no tarot cards appearing from the ether, the only
thing I could do was put my time to good use and work on my manuscript.
And because it was still decently early in the morning, I hadn’t been
interrupted by my annoying housemates.
Instead, I got interrupted by the phone ringing. Glancing down at the
caller ID, I realized it was my mother, Nancy.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered.
“Katie-Bear!” she replied in her high-pitched, frenzied voice, “I have
great news!”
My mother wasn’t one of those people who started a conversation by
asking how you were or what was new in your life. No, she was one of
those people whose entire world centered around herself, so it wasn’t any
surprise when she loudly announced that she had news.
“Great,” I said, slightly annoyed but also curious.
“Ken and I broke up!” she exclaimed with way too much cheer, given
the topic.
I frowned and was literally confused until I remembered whom I was
talking to—Nancy Murray went through men almost as quickly as she went
through her underwear; (that is, when she wore them!) “I thought you liked
him a lot?” At least, the last time we’d talked (which had been a few
months), Mom was telling me that Ken had taken her to the Bahamas on her
dream trip and blah blah blah…
“Well, that was then and this is now,” she answered hurriedly. And that
summed up my mom for you—always saying she was in a hurry although
she had nothing to do and all day to do it in.
As for Ken, I’d only met him once or twice, but I thought he was a nice
guy. He was soft spoken and treated my mom like she was a queen (which
was exactly how she insisted she be treated—truthfully, I thought he spoiled
her a little too much). Regardless though, his calm demeanor appeared to
work wonders on tempering my mother’s unending frantic energy.
 “So, what happened?” I asked, almost regretting my words as soon as I
said them.
“Ugh! For one thing, he was just so boring, Katie!” She took a deep
breath, which indicated her next sentence was going to be a mouthful. “He
was always slowing me down—and never keeping his opinion to himself
and he had all kinds of other irritating habits. And, well, you know… your
mother can’t be slowed down, right?” She didn’t wait for my response but
kept on going with her locomotive mouth. “Right. So, I had to get rid of all
the dead weight. And now I’m so much happier, Kate!”
“Well, that’s—”
“—I can finally breathe again, you know? Now that I’m without that
old albatross hanging around my neck. And he was old, Katie. Did I ever
tell you how old he actually was?”
“I think you—”
“—I might have told you he was in his sixties, but he wasn’t! I just
hadn’t wanted you to worry that he was going to have a stroke on top of me
or something.”
“Oh, God.”
“He was actually seventy-four and I… well, he was just way too old for
me, Kate, you must realize that.” My mom was seventy-five, so no, I didn’t
realize that at all. “And besides, I had way too much energy for him. He
was always lagging behind and couldn’t keep up with me, so I did what I
had to do.”
“Well, as long as you’re happy now,” I sighed, resigning myself to yet
another one of her whirlwind decisions.
“I am, Katie-Bear, I’m so much happier,”
“How are you coping after the breakup?”
“Coping?” Like she didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
“I mean, are you depressed about it—?”
“—Nope! Couldn’t be better. In fact, I’ve already sold the house in
Boca Raton.”
“You did? So soon?”
“Sure, I did and I’ve also bought another new place.”
“Mom, shouldn’t you have taken a little time—”
“—No! I knew exactly what I needed, which was a fresh start. A fresh
start in a fresh place, with fresh people and best of all, without any
memories of Ken to hold me back!’ She sounded almost giddy.
 “Oh? That’s good, then, I guess.”
“Katie, it’s better than good. I feel like I’m a new woman! I even
changed my hair color!”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I’ve gone back to being a redhead! I got sick of that tired, old,
mousey brown so I kicked it to the curb, along with Ken! And now I’m
thinking it might be a good time to freshen up these old tits!”
Oh, God.
“Mom, I think you should—”
“—you know, breast implants only have a shelf life of ten years, right?
Well, these puppies are pushing eleven years now, Katie, and I can tell you,
I think I should have had them replaced a couple years ago after my nipples
descended on a long voyage down south, if you know what I mean?” I
didn’t know what she meant and furthermore, I really didn’t want to know.
“And no woman wants her titties hanging around her navel. So, I’m
thinking it’s time for a fresh pair of double Ds. Then it’s off to the races for
your red hot mama!”
Christ, I didn’t even know where to start. “So, uh, where’s the new
house that you bought?”
“Oh, it’s in a gated community that has the greatest name, Katie—it’s
called Happy Horizons!”
“A gated community?” I replied, cringing when my stomach sunk
down to my toes as I wondered if that meant what I thought it meant.
“Right. It’s a charming, little retirement village and it’s absolutely
perfect for me.”
“Sounds nice.” I hesitated before asking my next question, wincing at
the memory of her last perfect residence. “But, um, is it another nudist
colony like the last one?”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line and, for a second, I
wondered if my mom had suddenly found something or someone more
interesting to talk to. But then, she laughed. “No, it’s just a retirement
village.”
I was genuinely surprised to hear that. After her most recent experiment
in ‘free living’, I’d been convinced my mother had fully embraced her
retirement by insisting she wear no clothing at all. I could only hope those
days were over, because there’s nothing like going to visit your mom in a
community full of naked old people.
 “Katie, do you want to know the absolute best part about Happy
Horizons?” she continued, her voice practically buzzing with excitement.
“Sure, what’s the best—”
“—wait for it,” she paused dramatically, and then, with a tittering
giggle, she squealed, “I’ll be living only ten minutes away from you!” She
shrieked the last part, as if it were the most fabulous news I could possibly
imagine hearing.
But it wasn’t! In fact, I was pretty sure it was the worst news she could
have told me.
“Wait—you’re moving to Vermont?”
“Right,” she answered immediately. “But I plan to live in that big town
near the little, rinky-dink one you’re living in—Maple-something.”
“Maplewood?”
“Right, that’s it. But, I’m moving to Cedar Ridge!”
Oh. My. God.
My mouth dropped open, and I felt a cold shiver running down my
spine. My mother would soon be living just ten minutes from me? That
wasn’t good. Not now that my life had become so drastically different than
it used to be! Not to mention, now that I was so drastically different than I
used to be! How in the world could I begin to explain Tarot Castle to her?
Never mind Rocco and Yolanda? And what about this new body of mine?
“Um,” I started.
“Isn’t it just great, Katie?”
“That’s one word to describe it.”
“I wanted to start the next chapter of my life much closer to you,”
Mom prattled on. “I want us to be close again—like we used to be when
you were just a little girl.”
“Mom, you know how different things are now,” I tried to reason with
her gently—I mean, we hadn’t enjoyed a close relationship in years—not
since I was twenty-two years old and she slept with my boyfriend.
“Of course, things are different, Katie! But now they can be different in
a good way. At least, that’s what my therapist told me. He believes it’s long
past the time that we reconnect. I mean, really reconnect. And he said we
need to put the past behind us and together, we can look forward to the
future and being close again—close like only a mother and daughter can
be.” She paused briefly for a quick breath. “I’ve been living too far away
from my family for too long. And now that Artemis is gone, you’re the only
family I have left.”
“Artemis hadn’t been part of the family for years, Mom,” I reminded
her, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“Be that as it may,” she persisted, ignoring my comment as if it were
nothing more than an inconvenient truth, “I’m so excited about the idea that
we’ll be close enough so we can pop over to each other’s houses whenever
we want to! Just think about it, Katie—we can see each other all the time!
Go to lunches, dinners, and breakfast... well, maybe not breakfast, since I
like to sleep in, but the point is: we can make up for all the years we lived
apart!”
As she rambled on about our newfound proximity and all the
opportunities she’d calculated for spending quality time together, the only
thing I felt was a sense of impending doom. The thought of my mother just
dropping by unannounced, inevitably catching a glimpse of my new life,
filled me with dread.
“That sounds great,” I lied through gritted teeth, trying to rein in my
panic. “We’ll have to make plans after you’re settled in.”
“Absolutely! This is going to be so much fun, Katie!” she exclaimed,
her voice an octave higher in pitch—like glass shattering high.
“Right,” I murmured, my stomach knotting tighter as I tried to squelch
the panic, which was bubbling up in my chest. “When do you plan to start
moving in?”
“Oh, very soon! It’s all happening so fast!” Mom gushed. “My new
house is currently being painted and they’re putting in new carpeting as we
speak! So, I’m guessing I should be in the house oh, I don’t know… maybe
in a week or so.”
A week? I suddenly felt like I needed to throw up.
“Anyway, gotta dash now since I’m late for my tennis lesson with
Fernando,” she finished.
“Fernando?” I wasn’t even aware that Mom had any interest in tennis.
“He’s only thirty-two, you know, but he’s awakened my sexual desires
like no man before him.”
The last thing I needed was a graphic conversation about my mother’s
sex life. “Okay, well, you better get going then.”
“Yes, I’m so glad to be living my best life!”
 “I’m happy for you,” I managed to choke out, still reeling from the
imagery she’d just planted in my mind.
“Well, Katie, I’ve got to get going. Fernando doesn’t like it when I’m
late; he says it leaves us less play time.” She giggled again, and with that,
she said goodbye and hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand, feeling like I’d just been run over by a
freight train. My mother, the crazy Nancy Murray, would now be living
only ten minutes away from me? On top of everything else I was currently
dealing with…
Luke, I thought to myself. I need to talk to Luke about how to handle
this newest bomb that just landed in my lap.
Suddenly, a cacophony of clashing opinions yanked me from my
tumultuous thoughts and I turned around to watch Rocco stomping into my
bedroom, Yolanda swinging from one of his horns. “Don’t you ever knock
before you enter a room?”
“How’m I s’posed ta knock, eh, swizzle stick?” Rocco responded,
shaking his head more rigorously as he held up one of his hooves to
demonstrate he didn’t have any hands. But Rocco was just as capable of
knocking with his hoof as I was with my fist. He just declared himself
incapable whenever it suited him—like when he preferred to barge in
without bothering to knock.
“Ya ain’t gonna change my mind none, so put a lid on it, eh?” he
bleated at Yolanda before the two of them continued to bicker loudly about
whether The Princess Bride was based on a true story.
Rocco started shaking his head to whatever Yolanda was yelling at the
top of her absent lungs, his barrel-like body managing to sideswipe
everything in its path. He lifted his pink snout and made a face, which
pulled his lips back, revealing his blocky, large teeth.
“That movie’s ‘bout as real as my love fer kale, ya get me?”
“You act like you this walkin’ dictionary, goat face, but you don’t know
nothin’,” Yolanda retorted in her annoying lilt.
“Boss, ya gotta help me out ‘ere ‘cause dumb-dumb ain’t listenin’ ta no
logic!”
“I ain’t no dumb-dumb!” Yolanda railed. “But o’ course you gonna
label me, the independent woo-man, as yer intelligent-illectual subordnant.”
“Ah, jeez,” Rocco said as he shook his hairy, white head, “Chatty
Cathy here’s makin’ up words left an’ right—ya see what I gotta deal with,
boss?! Ya see this?”
“Is there a reason why the two of you are interuppting me right now?” I
asked. “Because, in case you didn’t notice, I’m trying to work.”
“Yeah, you’ve got youze a visitor downstairs.”
Rolling my eyes, I pushed away from my desk, eager to escape another
idiotic debate between the two of them. Walking into the hall, I could hear
the clomping of Rocco’s hooves as he followed me, still debating the reality
of The Princess Bride. I practically flew down the stairs, taking them two at
a time, confident that the magic enchantment Artemis had placed on the
staircase would prevent me from killing myself.
As I reached the vestibule, I found Luke standing there, clearly waiting
for me. As soon as he saw me, a huge and handsome smile split his face and
made him look ten years younger. Not that he looked like an old guy by any
stretch—even if he were actually a couple of centuries old. God, I doubted
I’d ever get used to that.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, without intending to sound rude,
but there it was.
“Nice to see you too, Kate.” Luke frowned playfully before giving me
another big smile. Jeez, even his teeth were remarkably white and straight,
and I was fairly sure that braces hadn’t existed a hundred years ago, let
alone two.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like such an a-hole,” I offered, making a
mental note to myself to ask Luke more about his lack of aging later. Maybe
he had a portrait in his attic that was doing all the aging for him, a la Dorian
Gray?
“It’s okay.”
Then I figured this might be as good a time as any to bring up my crazy
mother. “I just got a call from my mom, and she told me she just bought a
house ten minutes from here.”
Luke smiled. “That’s great.”
I gave him a raised-brow expression. “You haven’t met my mom.”
Then I let out a big sigh and continued. “The main thing I’m worried about
is how I’m going to explain Artemis’ castle or Rocco or Yolanda to her?”
He nodded. “Right, because your mom doesn’t have magic, from what
Artemis told me.”
“Right.”
 He cocked his head to the side and then shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a big
deal.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because Rocco only sounds like a goat to most people. You can
understand him, owing to the magic inside you, but most people can’t.
Same thing with Yolanda.”
“But she must still appear like she’s a shrunken head, right?”
He nodded. “Sure, but that’s not the weirdest thing in the world to own,
is it?”
I frowned. “Kind of. What about this crazy castle? How do I explain
that?”
He shrugged again. “You just say Artemis had some strange design
sense.”
“That’s it?”
He nodded. “That’s it.”
“Hmm,” I said, trying to figure out if that really was it. “So, what
brings you here?”
“Magnus asked me to come over and keep an eye on you and the castle
while he’s away on a quick trip.”
I eyed him narrowly, because ‘Magnus’ and ‘quick trips’ went together
about as well as ‘Magnus’ and ‘personal space’.
“A quick trip? Where?”
Why did I suddenly have the image of Magnus taking a road trip with
the Griswolds?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOUR
“He had to return to his own dimension,” Luke answered.
“To Galaxy 9?” I asked, just to make sure we were, in fact, discussing
the same Magnus.
“Right.”
I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows because that was definitely
unexpected. “Is he off on a hot date with an Amazon or something?”
Luke chuckled. “No. Magnus’s business in Galaxy 9 is more for your
benefit than for his own.”
Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen or heard from the gargantuan pain in
my ass all morning—so I should have known something was up. “So, what
the heck could he be doing that has anything to do with benefiting me?” I
demanded, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Wait,” I continued
with a smile. “Is he trading himself in for another model?”
Luke gave me a look, his usual mysterious demeanor fully present and
accounted for. “I can’t say for certain,” (and I was more than sure Luke
knew exactly what Magnus was up to), “but, what I can tell you is Magnus
and I had a discussion this morning and we agreed it would be a good idea
for you to start training in self-defense—while you wait to receive your
tarot card orders.”
“Training in self-defense?” I repeated, not thrilled by the thought of
that at all.
“Kate, it’s important that you learn how to fight, should it ever come
down to that,” Luke finished resolutely.
“But I thought I already had magic?”
He nodded. “Yes, but in the case that your magic hasn’t fully matured
or you can’t rely on your magic… for whatever reason… it’s important that
you learn the basics of self-defense.”
“Low to moderate threat, my ass!” I muttered under my breath. Then,
curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “What does my training in self-
defense have to do with Magnus returning to his own dimension?”
“I’m fairly sure Magnus went there to bring you back a gift,” Luke
responded cryptically.
“What kind of a gift?”
But Luke shook his head, pretending not to know the answer, the
nuisance!
 “You know, I’m convinced you must get some sort of diabolical
enjoyment from keeping me in the dark,” I grumbled.
Luke cocked his head to the side and his smile deepened. “I wouldn’t
say it’s diabolical necessarily…”
“Anyway,” I muttered, realizing I wouldn’t get a straight answer from
him, so I changed the subject. “Did you consult the tarot cards about Ezra
Blackthorn and how he knew I was going to be the next Daughter of the
Moon?”
“I did,” Luke admitted, but he didn’t seem especially excited about it.
“And?”
“And the cards didn’t offer me much more than I already knew.”
“Which was… what?”
“Only that Ezra is fully aware of your existence, and now he’s more
determined than ever to relocate his leader, Valerian.”
I frowned. “Yeah, nothing new on that front.” I shook my head. “So,
are you going to teach me how to kick paranormal ass?”
“No, I’m not going to teach you.”
I frowned. “Then who… ugh! Is Magnus planning to teach me?”
“Right,” Luke answered as his large grin became a much smaller one.
Then he paused for a moment and asked, “So, are you going to invite me in
or what?”
I sighed again, rolling my eyes, only then realizing we were still
standing in the entry. “I guess so.” I turned around and started heading for
the kitchen, doing a little wave with my hand to indicate to Luke that he
should follow me. Meanwhile, I called over my shoulder, “all I have to
offer you is tap water and coffee.”
“Are you offering to make me fresh coffee or are you referring to the
dregs of whatever you made hours ago?”
“The dregs,” I replied, trying not to smile.
“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”
“They’re cold dregs—I didn’t bother keeping them warm.”
“Wow,” he chuckled as we reached the kitchen and glancing up at the
tops of the cabinets, I reminded myself, not for the first time, that I needed
to do away with all the tarot-themed teapots.
“I should’ve just brought two coffees with me from the bookstore.”
“Yes, you should have,” I answered and he laughed.
 After entering the kitchen, Luke took a seat on one of the benches in
front of the counter and glanced around curiously. I began heating up the
remains of cold coffee that really did look pretty pathetic.
“So, Kate, what have you been doing to keep yourself busy over the
last two days?”
Before I could answer, Rocco sauntered into the kitchen, walking right
up to the pantry as Yolanda continued to blab at him.
“She been workin’ on that sex book,” he announced.
“Sex book?” Luke repeated, his eyebrows reaching for the ceiling as he
chuckled slightly and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. All I could do
was feign extreme interest in the coffee maker as I hoped Luke would sense
that I absolutely did not want to continue this conversation.
“You’re writing a sex book?” Apparently, I had no such luck.
If there is a God, I prayed silently, please let the ground open up and
swallow me whole.
“No, I’m not writing a sex book.”
Rocco continued rummaging through the pantry, no doubt, looking for
something to eat while Yolanda persisted in her animated discussion about
something that was, no doubt, completely ridiculous.
Over his shoulder, Rocco called out, “That book ain’t nothin’ but
bumpin’ uglies, from what I overheard the juggernaut sayin’ ‘bout it.”
“The juggernaut?” Luke repeated, giving me a confused expression.
“Magnus,” I supplied for him. “And the book isn’t—”
“—and not only that,” Rocco went on, “but I heard ye’re also in it,
Luke, ma man.”
My mortification reached new heights as Luke’s eyebrows shot up in
surprise and for a second or more, he appeared unsure how to react.
“I’m in the book?” he replied finally, a mixture of astonishment and
curiosity in his tone of voice.
“Oh, my God, Rocco,” I groaned, shooting the goat a withering glare,
before I turned back to face Luke. “It’s nothing like what you’re probably
thinking it is.”
“Oh.”
“I mean—your name isn’t even in it!”
“Lucaster—sounds close enough,” Rocco said.
The image of landing a perfect kick into his big goat ass flashed
through my mind, and I would have acted on it if we hadn’t had company.
“‘Lucaster’ and ‘Luke’ are clearly not the same name,” I insisted.
“They sound like the same name ta me, liver lips.”
I glared at him. “And would you say ‘Joe’ and ‘Joan’ are the same
name?” I didn’t get a response, so I figured I’d made my point. Now it was
time to introduce the next one. “And, what’s more, Lucaster happens to be
a wizard, not a magician—so the character’s hardly based on you.”
“But the Juggernaut still gots his same name of ‘Magnus’ in the book,”
Rocco pointed out, chomping on a piece of tin, which I was fairly sure had
belonged to a can at some point. “An’ my name’s Roccoan or some shit an’
yakkity-yak is also in it.”
“Because I’m a modern woo-man—”
“—Yeah, yeah, we got it, cheese puff.”
“Interesting,” Luke said, his expression unreadable although I did
notice he didn’t take his eyes off me and a small smirk emerged on his lips.
God, this was so beyond mortifying.
“Anyway,” I huffed, trying to change the subject as I handed Luke his
microwaved coffee. “Let’s just forget about this ridiculous conversation and
focus on—”
“—well, what I will tell ya, Luke, ma man,” Rocco interrupted, “is that
fruitcake’s writin’ some real steamy threesome scene between you, Magnus,
an’ her.”
“Is she?” Luke asked, accepting the cream and pouring it into his
coffee as he gave me a flirty smirk.
“Yeppers,” Rocco continued. “An’ if it’s anywhere’s as good as that
shower scene the juggernaut tole me ‘bout, well, ya might wanna ask fer
royalties, if ya get my drift?”
“Oh, my God!” I snapped, glaring at him as I raised my hand and
pointed to the far end of the living room. “Out! Now!” The annoying goat
reluctantly trudged out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath.
“A threesome?” Luke raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he gazed
up at me and my face flushed an even deeper shade of red.
“I am absolutely, in no uncertain terms, NOT writing about a threesome
in my book,” I assured him, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.
“All right, but now I’m more than curious about what you are writing,”
Luke admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. He made no attempt to hide the
fact that it was as tastelessly bitter as he’d probably assumed it would be.
Well, that should teach him to show up empty-handed first thing in the
morning! “What’s it really about?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could utter a single word, a
sudden gust of wind blew through the kitchen, whipping my hair around my
face.
“What the,” I started but couldn’t finish because right in the center of
my kitchen suddenly appeared a swirling… vortex, for lack of a better
word. The air around the vortex shimmered with an otherworldly energy as
the edges of the circular… was it a portal? danced with hues of iridescent
blue and shimmering gold. The room filled with a gentle hum, as the strong
wind continued to blow from inside the gateway.
As to what I saw inside this thing—and I didn’t want to get too close to
it—but what I could make out from my vantage point was a landscape that
was both surreal and impossible. Towering crystalline spires reached
towards the sky, one that was dark and covered with sparkling stars. The
spires seemed to emit their own soft glow that illuminated the surroundings
while strange and exotic flora covered every inch of the ground, petals of
all the flowers gleaming in shades I couldn’t even begin to describe.
As I watched, I could see in the distance what appeared to be floating
islands hovering in the air, and creatures that looked like something from
Where The Wild Things Are drifting through the sky, leaving trails of
sparkling dust in their wake.
But the tranquil scene was completely interrupted when Magnus, as if
he were shot from a cannon, suddenly hurtled through the portal and landed
heavily on the kitchen floor. He rolled to a stop but immediately jumped to
his feet, turning to face me. I instantly wished he hadn’t, because, to my
complete horror, he was totally naked! Apparently, the thrill of his
interdimensional journey had left him more than a little excited too, because
his substantial manhood was now saluting me.
“What the fuck, Magnus?” I yelled, unsure of where to even begin.
“I should have advised you that I would return through the kitchen.”
“No—not what the fuck to that!” I continued yelling. “Why the fuck
are you naked?!”
“In Galaxy 9, everyone is naked.”
“Well, this isn’t Galaxy 9 so get the hell dressed!”
He didn’t respond but approached the portal, which was still very much
open. It wasn’t lost on me that Luke was doing everything in his power to
stare with extreme interest at his shitty coffee. Meanwhile, the idiot, lately
known as my guardian, reached inside the still-open portal and pulled out
his massive broadsword. He casually leaned the weapon against the
refrigerator like it was a mop or something.
Then the completely naked and very much erect Magnus returned to
the portal once more, this time reaching inside it to retrieve a much smaller
blade. As soon as he pulled his arm out again, the portal snapped shut and
the blowing wind immediately died with it. Then, he dropped down on one
knee before me, offering the sword he’d just retrieved with an unexpectedly
solemn expression.
“What do you want me to do with that?” I asked, crossing my arms
against my chest.
Magnus held it out to me even higher, but kept his head lowered.
“Take the sword, Kate,” Luke said.
I looked at him and shook my head. “I don’t want it.”
“I present this sword to the Daughter of the Moon,” Magnus
announced.
I stared at the weapon that Magnus was still holding over his stupid
head, feeling a strange mix of irritation and confusion. I mean, sure the
thing was beautiful with deep engravings in the metal, but why in hell did
Magnus think I needed it?
“Um,” I started to protest.
Magnus sort of thrust it at me, until I had no choice but to lift it from
his outstretched hands and I nearly fell over with the weight of it. The
damned thing was heavy! “What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked, as
I yanked it back upwards again and tried to maintain my balance.
“It is your destiny,” Magnus said firmly, now standing up and facing
me. And, yes, I was using all of my absolute willpower, doing my very best
not to stare at the stiff tree branch hanging between his thighs. God, some
days in this castle were easier than others.
“Great, well, it will probably look very nice above the fireplace
mantel,” I answered.
Luke laughed at that. “Kate, Magnus is presenting you with your very
own sword.”
I glared at him. “Yeah, I got that part.”
“Your very own sword that you’ll learn how to use to defend yourself.”
 “What?” Did he miss the part where I could barely lift the freaking
thing up?
“Do you wish for the small man to repeat himself?” Magnus demanded
and I had to suppress a laugh at his characterization of Luke who definitely
wasn’t a small man, not by any stretch (I mean, he was easily over six foot).
However, I supposed when he was compared to Magnus (who had to be at
least seven feet tall), Luke looked tiny. Anyone would.
“No,” I scoffed. “I got it.”
I took a deep breath as I glanced at the sword and wondered how in the
hell I could learn to use it when I could barely even hold it up.
“This sword was prepared specifically for you, Daughter of the Moon.”
“I’m not going to say one more word until you go put some clothes
on.”
“Very well,” Magnus replied as he walked over to the fridge and
retrieved his monstrous broadsword and I was pretty sure he was flexing his
insanely tight and round butt just to show off. But back to his sword…
ahem, not that sword—he held it casually, like it weighed next to nothing,
while I struggled to keep a grip on my much smaller one. Then he walked
out of the kitchen and disappeared behind the corner of a wall.
“Hey! Watch where ye’re pointin’ that thing, wise guy!” Rocco called
out a second later.
“There was another reason that I came by today,” Luke said, turning to
face me. A glint of curiosity shining in his eyes.
“More news I don’t want to hear?” I replied, raising an eyebrow at him.
He took a deep breath before answering as he shook his head, “I
wanted to make sure you still know how to access the power you inherited
from The Fool, the lesson of Time Suspension.”
His reply stumped me for a second, because I still wasn’t sure how that
power or my abilities worked. Yes, I had managed to defend myself from
the attack of the hell hounds by essentially freezing them in place, but, I
didn’t know how I’d done it or why it had happened. It had sort of just
occurred without any conscious effort from me. “Is it possible to pull that
power up at will?”
Luke nodded. “Like anything else, you have to practice the abilities
you receive in order to keep them sharp and available to you,” he explained,
his calm voice steady and reassuring. “I can show you how to do that.”
 “So… Magnus is training me in self-defense, and you’re going to train
me in magic?”
“Exactly,” Luke nodded with a grin.
“Hmm,” I answered, doubting myself and whether I’d be able to call up
this new power of mine. I mean—what if it had been just a one-time
anomaly? Like one of those freak instances when a mother lifts a car off her
kid or when a dumbass is able to freeze frame a hell hound? What if I didn’t
really have the power that Luke seemed to think I did? At the idea of
disappointing him, I felt strangely depressed.
“Rocco!” Luke called out, making me jump at the suddenly increased
volume of his voice.
Moments later, Rocco barged into the room, his hooves clacking on the
wooden floor. “Whatcha want now, tough guy?” he grumbled, clearly
annoyed at being summoned for any reason.
Luke looked over at me then, a smile forming on his lips. “Suspend
him.”
“What?” I blurted out, shaking my head. “You can’t just tell me to do
that!”
“Sure I can and just did.”
“But,” I protested, throwing my arms up in the air as I continued
shaking my head. “How am I supposed to suspend him?”
“Hey, what’s that ‘sposed ta mean, anyhow?” Rocco inquired with
some trepidation. “Ah, jeez, ya know—maybe I ain’t wantin’ ta be
suspended.”
Neither one of us paid any attention to him though. Instead, Luke kept
his eyes trained on me. “Force your mind inward and access that ability,
Kate, then use it. Just like you did with the hell hounds.”
“Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s going to be much easier said than done,” I
muttered, feeling a mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling inside me.
But I also felt an overall tone of worry, because I doubted myself and was
still far from convinced that I could do that again.
“Kate,” Luke said, his tone gentle but firm, “we need to make sure you
know how to summon your abilities at will.”
“Hey,” Rocco interrupted, looking between us in confusion and
concern. “What the hells are you two bozos talkin’ about, huh? I thought
you was callin’ me in here fer a snack or somethin’.”
 “Focus only on him, Kate,” Luke murmured softly. I glanced over at
Rocco, who started a new argument with Yolanda.
“I ain’t arguin’ witcha no more, gabber guts!” he retorted to whatever
she’d just said, shaking his head and making Yolanda reel from left to right.
“All right,” I mumbled to myself, doing my best to concentrate all my
attention on the task at hand. I closed my eyes, attempting to tap into the
hidden part of me where my newfound magic resided.
Reveal yourself, magical power, I mentally whispered, thinking I
sounded beyond dumb, but I wasn’t sure how else to address this ability of
mine.
“Tell yourself what you want,” Luke coached, his voice sounding even
more steady and unruffled.
I want to use my freeze-framing ability… er my time suspension ability,
I continued to myself and then waited for a moment, hoping to feel any sign
of the magical energy surging within me.
“Once you feel like the power is available, use it,” Luke continued.
I opened my eyes then, and focused my thoughts intently on Rocco,
who was still bickering with Yolanda. Taking a deep breath, I held out my
hands just like I’d done when I’d halted the hell hounds’ attack and called
out, “Freeze!”
In response, Rocco looked over at me with a frown on his face and
bleated, “So… we playin’ cops an’ robbers now or what, fruitcake?”
Clearly, that had failed.
“So much for that,” I said, glancing over at Luke with a shrug. He
studied me for a moment before responding.
“You didn’t go deep enough inside your mind,” he explained, shaking
his head. “You need to feel the power inside you and allow it to overtake
you. It should be pretty effortless.”
“Okay,” I sighed, feeling more than slightly defeated. “Let me try
again.”
This time, I closed my eyes and tried to reach deep inside my mind,
just like Luke had instructed. In response, I felt something rising up inside
me. It felt totally separate from me though—as if it were a different entity
that shared my space with me.
Feel your power in order to access it, I heard the voice come from deep
within me and recognized it immediately. It was the same voice I’d heard
when I’d first accessed this power—when the hell hounds had attacked us.
At that time, I’d called the voice my ‘higher self’, although I wasn’t sure if
that’s what or who it was.
Feel my power, I repeated to myself, allowing my mind to sink deeper
into my own sense of being. Slowly but surely, an energy began to rise up
from deep within me, growing stronger and more potent with each passing
moment. But then it just sort of paused—like it was almost at the point that
I could grasp it, but just out of reach.
Taking a long breath, I decided to try a different approach. Instead of
thinking in words, I chose to focus on the emotions and sensations that were
now bubbling up inside me. It was almost like they went beyond the
boundaries of language, defying characterization or description in words.
They only existed as feelings. The power within me started to rise to the
surface again, like effervescent bubbles in a glass of champagne, fizzing
and shimmering inside me.
I opened my eyes and locked them onto Rocco. He was rambling on
about robbing a bank, clearly thinking we were still playing the game of
cops and robbers. As if my body were dictating, rather than my mind, my
hands suddenly reached out toward him and I narrowed my eyes,
concentrating all my willpower into freezing him in place.
“Freeze!” I commanded aloud. To my shock, Rocco instantly stopped
mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open and one hoof raised in the air.
“Yes!” Luke exclaimed, clapping his hands together and laughing.
“Bravo, Kate! You did it!”
I blinked in disbelief, staring at Rocco’s frozen form. I couldn’t believe
I’d actually done it! I’d done exactly what I’d set out to do. I’d felt the
power inside me and I’d successfully taken control of it—I couldn’t
remember a moment when I’d felt prouder.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIVE
The midday sun broke free of the clouds and seemed to take delight in
blazing down on me as I struggled to hold the sword Magnus had given me.
Taking a defensive stance, my arms trembled with the Herculean effort
it required just to hold the dumb thing up. As for the insistent sun, only
yesterday, it had been raining so I wondered why the sun was even out to
begin with. Autumn in Vermont wasn’t supposed to be hot and yet, here we
were. Sweat poured down my face and soaked my clothes, making it
difficult to focus on anything beyond my discomfort.
“Feet shoulder-width apart!” Magnus yelled at me, like he was
channeling Lao Tzu. “Hold the sword higher!”
“I can’t hold it any higher or my arms will fall off!”
“Higher!” he barked, his voice grating on my last nerve. “You must
anticipate your enemy’s moves—know exactly where they will strike before
they do!”
“That’s easy for you to say since you were basically born a warrior,” I
muttered under my breath. Then the image of Magnus as a toddler,
completely buff with ridiculous muscles and his very own loin cloth,
flashed through my mind. My muscles, meanwhile, (both of them)
screamed in protest as I tried to follow his instructions. At this point, I felt
like collapsing onto the grass and crying.
“Can’t we take a break now, Magnus, please?” I pleaded, hoping that
the desperation in my tone might sway him. “I’ve been at this for hours and
I can barely move!”
“Life and death situations do not allow for breaks,” he snapped, glaring
at me like I’d just told him his mom was ugly. “You must train harder to
become better!” Then he paused and stared down his nose at me. “That is—
if you wish to survive.”
“At this point, I’d rather just die.”
“Try again!”
The metallic resonance of clashing blades echoed through the air as
Magnus brought his blade down, hitting mine and I had to do everything in
my power to keep from pitching backwards, where I’d have rolled down the
grassy hill and inevitably killed myself on my own sword.
I managed to sort of block his blow, which caused him to take a step
back, raising his sword high above his head, looking like he was ready to
lop my head clean off. But there would be no decapitations today because I
was freaking exhausted. So, I dropped the tip of my sword into the dirt,
collapsed onto my back and tried to catch my breath.
“What are you doing?” Genghis Khan demanded as he appeared above
me.
“I have a cramp in my side!” I stretched first one way, then the other, in
my attempt to relieve the pain that I could only describe as someone
stabbing me with a very small blade.
Joseph Stalin, meanwhile, continued to peer over me, his eyes sharp
and completely devoid of anything coming close to sympathy. “Do not
surrender to your weakness!”
I gave him the glare he deserved. “Hey, I’d like to point out that I’m
not in my twenties, jerk-wad. I’m freaking forty-five so give me a break!”
“Your enemies will not care that you are forty-five.”
“Well, if my enemies are also in their forties, then it’d be a fair fight—
wouldn’t it?”
But Mussolini wasn’t having any of it. “No more fluff!”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means stand up and hold your sword as though you intend to defend
yourself!”
So, I rolled onto my hands and knees, then gripped a nearby tree to
help me push to my feet and stood up—sort of straight, well straighter than
I was anyway—and held my sword like I meant to casually toss it into the
trees beside me. “Like this?”
“Hold the hilt with a firmer grip! And allow the weight of the blade to
rest in your hand!”
“Ugh!”
I did neither—mostly because I wasn’t capable.
“Think of your sword as an extension of your own body,” General Mao
advised.
He then demonstrated the basic stances—both offensive and defensive
—and his movements were fluid, purposeful and completely perfect. He
almost looked like he was following carefully choreographed steps in a
dance.
I tried to do the same and tripped over a tree root, nearly breaking my
ankle in my feeble attempt to keep myself upright.
 “Square your shoulders! Plant your feet more firmly! Let the
momentum flow from your core into the blade!”
“Like this?”
“No, not like that!”
“How about this?”
“No!”
I took a deep breath and then another one, forbidding myself from
crying. But things were definitely headed down that road.
“You must learn to read your opponent’s intentions, anticipate their
moves, and maintain your focus. You allow nothing to interrupt!”
“Well, that all sounds just great, but I really need to go to the
bathroom.”
“A sword is not just a weapon,” Fidel Castro continued, clearly
unconcerned with my full bladder. “It is a manifestation of your will and
discipline.”
“I drank too much water and if you force me to stay out here a second
longer, I’m going to wet myself.”
“Always respect your sword, and it shall serve you faithfully, as my
sword has served me.”
“What about respecting my bladder? Because mine’s about to burst.”
“No rest! Defend yourself!” Kim Jong-Un yelled as he came after me
with his sword raised above his head, looking like someone completely
deranged.
I’d had enough.
So, with a frustrated groan, I let my sword drop to the grass. Magnus
stopped charging me, which was good because I wanted to keep my head on
my shoulders and he looked like he was pretty dead set on acting out the
role of the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland.
“What are you doing?” He frowned at me, clearly unimpressed by my
lack of dedication, but at the moment, I literally gave zero shits about it.
“I’m giving up,” I answered as I then stormed down the embankment,
weaving through the excessive weeds that filled the backyard, thinking only
of relieving my poor bladder.
Well, I actually had one other thought—withholding Rocco’s food so
maybe he’d find the motivation to graze like a normal goat. Hopefully, he
could manage to mow down some of the weeds and overgrown crabgrass
that comprised my entire backyard. But that wasn’t a battle I wanted to
wage at the moment. No. For now, all I wanted to do was pee and then take
a warm shower.
Throwing open the slider, I limped through the living room, then
huffed my way up the stairs, my sore muscles protesting every step. Yeah, a
hot shower was exactly what I needed t the moment—something to soothe
my aching body and wash away the sweat from the grueling sword practice
with Magnus Zedung. As I reached the top of the stairs, I caught sight of my
broken bedroom door, still hanging pathetically on its hinges from the last
time Magnus had busted it open after I’d accidentally locked him out.
The last thing I wanted was for the big oaf to tear down the bathroom
door as well, so I thought better of locking it behind me. But there was no
way I was signing up for a repeat of the time Magnus had actually gotten
inside the shower with me, causing me to freak the F out. Then I’d slipped
on a bar of soap and nearly broke my nose on the sausage hanging between
his thighs. To avoid that horrid possibility, I rummaged through a nearby
drawer and pulled out the sign I’d made earlier—one that read in bold black
letters: “MAGNUS! STAY OUT!” I tacked the sign on the bathroom door,
hoping it would be enough to deter any unwanted intrusions.
Five minutes later, I was stepping under the spray of hot water,
enjoying every second as it cascaded all over my exhausted body. But while
my body might have been savoring the hot flow of water, my brain was far
from feeling relaxed. I couldn’t stop thinking that another day had passed,
and I still hadn’t received the tarot card that would inform me of my next
mission. It seemed strange, especially since I hadn’t received any more
posthumous letters from Artemis either. I’d pretty much gotten used to
seeing those cryptic messages show up, giving me advice on the lesson I
was meant to learn. So where were they now? I figured it was something I
could add to my long list of questions for Luke.
I relished the hot steam that was swirling around me as I rinsed off the
last of the lather on my skin and decided to pay Luke a visit at his
bookstore. Luke had been very close to Artemis, and maybe he could shed
some light on why she’d suddenly gone silent.
After drying off and getting dressed, I thought how interesting it was
that even by thinking about visiting Luke, my mind seemed already calm.
Luke just had this strange ability (and I wasn’t sure if it was his magic or
what) that managed to alleviate my stress. Not only that, but it was also
pretty damned easy to look at him. Yeah, I was pretty sure I had a crush on
my ‘guide’ and I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.
I was then reminded of one of Artemis’s letters that had told me, in no
uncertain terms, that if I were to accept my role as a Daughter of the Moon,
I would be given the opportunity to have another chance at love. Artemis
hadn’t identified just who that chance might be with, but I wondered if it
could be Luke? Or maybe it was nothing more than my aunt’s bold attempt
to persuade me to sign on the dotted line—something like a very good
marketing strategy. I guessed only time would tell.
After I was dressed, I brushed my hair and applied a little makeup on
my face. Then I raced down the stairs, my heart pounding as I imagined
Magnus’s reaction if he discovered I’d left without him. He’d probably tear
down the castle in his attempts to find me. So, rather than allowing him to
destroy the only home I now occupied (I’d already informed the landlord of
the apartment I’d been renting in LA that I wouldn’t be returning), I decided
to find Magnus instead.
“There you are,” I said, spotting him hunched over a bowl of Frosted
Flakes in the kitchen. Dude had a sweet tooth and then some. “I guess you
don’t adhere to the school of ‘train like a warrior, eat like a warrior’?”
“The food I eat does not change what I am.”
“Wish we could all say that,” I grumbled.
“You will never become a warrior with that attitude, Daughter of the
Moon.”
“Now you’re just striking me below the belt—”
“—your attitude is unlike that of a warrior, but a weakling,” he
retorted, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Well, on that pleasant note, I’m leaving now to visit Luke and seeing
as how you’ve adopted the role of my Siamese twin, if you want to come,
you’d better do so now.”
Magnus stood up abruptly, grabbing his sword with a scowl as he
glanced at his unfinished bowl of cereal and narrowed his eyes at me even
more.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said as I started for the door.
Magnus followed me, and I had to remind myself that he and his
unwieldy sword wouldn’t cause a public panic. A while back, Luke had
placed some sort of spell or charm on the giant so he wouldn’t draw any
unwanted attention in public.
 I could only hope the spell had been a permanent one.
###
The drive to downtown Maplewood took about ten minutes, and it
seemed like everyone was outside enjoying the somewhat cloud-free day,
even if the temperature was now back to arctic.
I parked on the street in front of Bronner’s Books, and a familiar
warmth washed over me as I thought of seeing Luke again.
“Why are we here?” Magnus demanded.
“I thought you might like another muffin.”
His frown was a bit less pronounced. “Oh.”
Last time we’d visited, Magnus had basically raided Luke’s baked
goods section, devouring everything in sight.
I turned the Jeep off, stepped out and walked to the front door of
Luke’s bookstore, Magnus trailing right behind me. The smell of coffee met
my nostrils as soon as I approached the door, and I couldn’t wait to inhale
the scent of books and coffee beans. I pulled open the door and it gave a
tinny ring, owing to the bell strapped to the inside. Almost immediately, that
same sense of calm that suffused me whenever I was in Luke’s company
revisited me, like an old friend. Reaching inside my purse, I handed
Magnus a ten-dollar bill.
“What is this for?” he asked, glaring down at the bill.
“I don’t know how they do things on the Planet of the Apes, but here
on Earth, we use words like ‘thank you’ when someone gives us
something.”
“I am a warrior and your protector—I do not concern myself with
frivolous terms of gratitude.”
“Ugh,” I grumbled, shaking my head as I wondered if my relationship
with Magnus would ever improve or was this it? Probably the latter. “Use
the money to buy something from Luke’s bakery,” I answered, but after
thinking more about it, I added, “and I mean something as in just one, got
it? We don’t need a repeat of what happened last time.” Right—Magnus had
literally eaten everything in the display case and, afterwards, he’d literally
had the worst gas for like five hours.
“I understand.” Then he turned in the direction of the bakery and his
eyes widened at the sight of all the treats.
“Just one,” I reminded him.
 He nodded reluctantly and soon wandered off toward the bakery case,
which was just as well because I was beyond sick and tired of him.
It didn’t take me long to spot Luke standing behind his desk, expertly
wrapping a vintage-looking book for a customer. He glanced up, his eyes
first falling on Magnus who was waiting in line behind a mom and her
young son. I could only hope my gorilla of a protector would behave
himself. Then Luke’s attention moved from Magnus to me and he offered a
quick wave, mouthing, Give me a few minutes.
I nodded as he gestured to the mostly occupied chairs and couches
around the bookstore. It seemed as if everyone in Maplewood had decided
to spend their day here, basking in the warm glow of old classics and
caffeine. Realizing that, Luke shrugged at me, and I gave him a little wave
to let him know I’d be fine by myself.
Then, scanning the room, I noticed the only vacant seat was at a small
table near the bakery. An old man was sitting on the opposite side, sipping
his coffee, apparently content to watch the world go by. I hesitated for a
moment, then decided that sitting with a stranger was better than standing
awkwardly in the middle of the store.
“Excuse me,” I said as I approached him, “is this seat taken?”
The old man looked up from his coffee and his eyes twinkled with
genuine warmth. “Not at all. Please, sit down.”
“Thanks,” I replied, settling into the chair and observing Magnus as he
continued to stand in line, clutching my money tightly in his hand. It wasn’t
long before he reached the display case and then I could practically see the
gears turning in his head as he considered which treat to choose. As long as
he didn’t maim anyone with his sword, I’d consider it a good day.
“So, what brings you here today?” the old man asked, breaking the
silence between us as he pulled my attention back to him.
“Actually, I’m waiting to speak to the owner, Luke,” I replied, glancing
over at the man in question who was now handing his customer her bag. I
had to wonder how many repeat female customers he had, and more
specifically, regular women visitors who were more interested in him than
they were in the literature he was selling.
“Ah, yes,” the old man said. “I’ve seen you two together before. You’re
friends, I assume?”
I nodded, growing slightly curious because I couldn’t recall seeing him
before. “Yeah, we are.”
 The old man leaned in conspiratorially, a knowing smile playing on his
lips. “Don’t be surprised if your friendship evolves into something more.”
I blinked, taken aback by his boldness. “Oh, well, um…” I cleared my
throat and wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I changed the subject. “Do you
come here often then?”
“Oh, yes, usually every day.”
“I’d consider that very often,” I laughed and the old man laughed along
with me. “How well do you know Luke?”
“Only in passing, truthfully,” he admitted. “But I do try to come here
every day for the coffee—it’s the best in town, you know?”
I’d gathered as much from Artemis’s first letter. “That’s what I’ve
heard.”
The old man nodded. “Luke and I… well, we exchange pleasantries
now and then.”
“Have you lived in Maplewood all your life?”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, I’ve moved around quite a
bit. But I felt I was needed here, so here I’ll remain—at least for the
foreseeable future.”
His words held a certain weight, as though there was more to his story
than he was currently sharing. All the same, I found myself strangely
captivated by him, drawn in as if he had hundreds of fascinating tales just
waiting to be told. But before I could delve any deeper, I felt a gentle touch
on my shoulder.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Kate,” Luke said, offering me a warm
smile.
I smiled back at him and stood up, figuring that was my cue. “It’s fine,
I was enjoying my conversation with...” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know
the old man’s name. He merely winked at me, but didn’t say anything more.
“Shall we?” Luke gestured toward the center of the store, and I nodded,
rising from my seat.
“Thank you for the company,” I told the old man.
“Anytime,” he replied with another knowing smile as I gave him a little
wave while Luke led me towards the center of the store.
“I would have introduced you,” Luke started, “but he’s never told me
his name.”
“Hmmm, that’s strange. He didn’t tell me his name either.”
 “He’s an odd duck, to be sure,” Luke continued, but there was a smile
on his face, so I was pretty sure he liked the unusual, old guy. “And he’s
also our resident coffee aficionado. He shows up every morning, enjoys his
coffee, and keeps to himself. Just an eccentric, old, harmless guy.”
“Interesting,” I mused, still wondering why the old man didn’t seem to
want anyone to know his name.
“Anyway,” Luke said, bringing my focus back to him, “what brings
you here today?”
“I’m a little worried,” I confessed.
“About?”
“Well, I still haven’t received a tarot card to tell me what my next
lesson will be, and I also haven’t heard from Artemis in… a while.” My
voice wavered slightly, betraying my deep concern.
Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he considered what I’d just said, clearly
looking just as puzzled as I was. “That is strange,” he agreed.
“I thought you might have some ideas to offer.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Kate, contrary to popular opinion, I
don’t have answers for everything.”
I gave him a look. “And yet you seem to have a lot more of them than I
do.”
He was quiet for a second or so, but nodded, leading me towards the
rear of the store. “I have a thought,” he said.
Magnus then reappeared, brandishing a gigantic cinnamon bun. I
couldn’t help but roll my eyes, although my lips quirked into a smile—there
were moments, granted they were few and far between, when my guardian
was actually amusing and, dare I even think it, cute?
“I told him he could only have one,” I informed Luke. “So, there’s no
need to worry that he’s going to pillage your whole inventory this time.”
With that, Magnus shoved the remaining half of the cinnamon bun into
his mouth like the biggest of chipmunks packing away for the winter.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that pillaging,” Luke chuckled, gesturing
to the crumbs that had already begun to accumulate on Magnus’s shirt.
“That’s it, Magnus, no more!” I said.
Magnus attempted to respond but with all the dough stuffed inside his
cheeks, I couldn’t understand a word. And that was probably just as well
because, in general, I was offended by ninety percent of the things he said.
 When we reached the narrow staircase that led to the book dungeon
below, Luke looked back at me.
“Be careful—” he started.
“—and hold onto the railing,” I finished for him, rolling my eyes. “I
remember what you told me last time, Dad.”
“Right,” he said with a smile.
Descending the creaky wooden stairs, I couldn’t help feeling a mixture
of excitement and trepidation—I mean, the place could easily have doubled
as a murder dungeon but then again, there was also a ton of really cool first
editions of all kinds of vintage books.
When we reached the bottom of the staircase, I glanced over at
Magnus, who was now licking his fingers, ostensibly to ensure he got every
last bit of his cinnamon bun icing.
“Ugh, gross,” I grunted as he looked at me and shrugged.
“All right,” Luke announced, gesturing to the large cabinet in the center
of the room. “I want you to take another look at Artemis’s book, Kate.”
“The one that had nothing but empty pages before?”
He nodded. “Now that you’ve taken your oath, maybe you’ll be able to
see her notes or her drawings. And, if so, I’m hoping they might provide
some insight into what you’re meant to do next.”
“And if not?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Then… I guess we’re out of luck.”
“Why don’t you just read her notes to me?”
He shook his head. “What I might see in the book isn’t the same as
what you might see.”
“Huh?”
“Only a Daughter of the Moon can read whatever is written in
Artemis’s grimoire and, in case you didn’t notice, I’m not a Daughter of the
Moon.”
“Oh, really? And all this time, I thought you were,” I said as I frowned.
“You called Artemis’ book a ‘grimoire’?”
“Right.”
“Isn’t that a book that opens a portal to hell or something?”
He looked at me for a long moment. “No.”
“Then, what is it?”
“It’s merely a book of spells. When you get a little deeper into your
lessons, you can start keeping one of your own. But, for now, you can refer
to Artemis’s.”
Well, at least it was good to know I wouldn’t accidentally be opening a
portal to hell anytime soon.
I watched Luke disappear into the dimly lit depths of the room, only to
reemerge moments later with the familiar leather-bound tome in hand. It
was then that I became aware of Magnus, who was scouring the perimeter
of the room, sword held up as if he expected a demonic librarian to
suddenly emerge from behind the books that were enclosed in glass.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered to myself.
“Here,” Luke said, setting Artemis’s book of spells down in front of
me. My heartbeat quickened in anticipation, and I looked up at him
uncertainly. He responded with an encouraging nod, urging me to open the
book.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly flipped open the cover, and the first
thing I noticed was the unbelievable colors filling the page. A depiction of
the Hanged Man tarot card unfolded before me like a visual tapestry,
revealing the image of a stained-glass window and within it, a man
suspended upside-down. The Hanged Man gazed serenely from the confines
of his inverted world, bathed in hues of ruby red, sapphire blue, and
emerald green. It was an image I’d seen before, although I couldn’t
remember where. About a second later, I recalled the stained-glass window
in the dining room of Tarot Castle. This was the exact same image.
With hesitant fingers, I extended my hand toward the drawing of the
tarot card and noticed how it appeared so real, and three-dimensional. It
was almost as if I could just grip the corner and pull it right off the page. As
my fingertips made contact with the picture, a subtle vibration reverberated
up my fingers and into my hand.
With a gentle tug, I extracted the card, lifting it up and off the page
effortlessly.
“The Hanged Man,” I breathed, feeling a thrill run down my spine as I
flipped the card over and found a sea of stars and a moon twinkling back at
me. I held the card out to show Luke, who grinned, the corners of his eyes
crinkling.
“Well, I think you just found your next adventure.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIX
The dim light inside Luke’s basement of books flickered as I sat on the
old wooden stool, trying to make sense of the tarot card I’d literally just
pulled out of Artemis’s weird book.
It was definitely the card of the Hanged Man, and if I hadn’t deduced
as much from the image of a man dangling upside-down (with a strangely
serene expression on his face), I would have known by the bold letters
printed across the top of the card, proclaiming it to be just that.
I turned to face Luke, who was still standing beside me, his aura of
warmth comforting me in the dark setting. Magnus, meanwhile, continued
to pace the perimeter of the room like he expected Tiny Tim to materialize
from one of the first editions of A Christmas Carol, and beg him for a
Christmas goose.
“Luke,” I started, “What does this card mean?”
He leaned in closer, picking the card up and examining it thoroughly
before responding. “The Hanged Man represents a shifting perspective,” he
explained thoughtfully as he narrowed his eyes on the card, almost as if he
were trying to figure out what it had to do with me and my upcoming
journey.
“A shifting perspective?”
He nodded. “It’s about seeing your situation from a new angle.”
“Like… turning things upside-down?” I asked. I was trying to become
more involved and hands on with my education in becoming a Daughter of
the Moon. I mean, I figured since this was now the road I was on, I
probably should start learning as much as I could.
“Exactly,” he said as he placed the card in front of the us. “The Hanged
Man is associated with a time period that’s meant to help shift your
perception—a time period to give you the ability to see a situation from a
different perspective.”
“What situation do I need to see from a different perspective?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. That’s a question you need to ask
yourself.”
“The card is referencing your defeatist attitude regarding your physical
training,” Magnus piped up.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I wondered if the oaf might
actually have a point. I faced Luke. “Do you think that’s the situation the
card is talking about?” I asked, shrugging. “I mean, I completely hate my
training with Magnus and I haven’t made that… let’s just say unclear.”
Luke chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it, Kate.”
“Good, because there’s no way I’ll ever be able to actually enjoy
anything having to do with Magnus. And training with him has to be the
worst thing on the list of bad things.”
“That is not the attitude of a warrior.”
Luke laughed again as he turned from Magnus back to me. “I think the
card is referencing something else. And it could be a situation you haven’t
yet faced.”
“Hmm,” I said as I chewed on my lower lip.
“Because the Hanged Man has nowhere to go,” Luke continued, “he
merely exists in reflection—he’s calm and pensive.”
“Right—he’s also got a weird expression on his face—like he’s almost
happy to be hanging upside-down with all the blood rushing to his head.” I
cocked my head to the side as I further considered it. “I mean, stuck upside
down like that, he’d probably croak in… what… like a couple of days?”
Luke gave me a concerned look. “Wow, that’s pretty morbid.”
“A man hanging upside-down could not last longer than one day,”
Magnus interjected. “When inverted, the lungs become compressed by the
heavier organs, such as the liver and intestines, making it difficult for the
lungs to absorb any oxygen. Blood also pools inside the brain, rupturing
blood vessels and causing hemorrhaging. Additionally, there is the
possibility of heart failure due to the heart’s inability to manage the
increased blood flow and maintain proper blood pressure.”
“Thanks, Web MD,” I grumbled as I turned around to face him. “How
in the hell do you even know that?” I couldn’t help but imagine Magnus
hanging his enemies upside-down from tree branches until their heads
ultimately exploded.
He turned his deadpan expression toward me. “Everyone knows such
things in Galaxy 9.”
“Of course,” I answered as I turned back to face Luke. “Is there
anything more I should be aware of regarding this card?”
“Just that it represents a time of surrender without struggle. It’s a
forced waiting period—as I said: the Hanged Man has nowhere to go. The
point is to surrender to whatever is happening and find peace during
moments of inactivity until the time is right for action.”
 “Interesting,” I murmured, staring at the card and trying to picture
myself embodying the Hanged Man’s energy for whatever situation might
come up when I had to use this lesson. “Hmm, maybe the card is telling me
I need to have more patience with Rocco and Yolanda?
“I doubt it,” Luke answered, giving me that smirk of his that was, in a
word… sexy. “Looking at it another way,” he continued, “getting a new
perspective on a situation allows you to expand your own beliefs.”
“So… what? Take time to reflect and surrender to the present moment
as fully as I can?”
“Yes, that’s a good way of putting it.”
I frowned, still uncertain how this lesson could possibly apply to me.
“Hmmm… and after I learn how to master the Hanged Man’s lesson, what
sort of power will I get?” Hopefully something cool.
Luke chuckled softly as he shook his head. “I have no idea.”
I frowned at him. “Is this another one of the many instances when you
actually do have a very good idea, but you just won’t tell me for whatever
weird reason?”
“No,” he answered with another chuckle. “In this case, I literally don’t
know what lessons you’re supposed to learn, nor what powers those lessons
will manifest within you after they’re learned. That’s solely for you to find
out, Kate.”
“Hmm.” I didn’t like hearing that and it must have showed on my face
because Luke continued to shake his head.
“I’m not an all-knowing magician, as much as I’d like to be.”
“Then there’s nothing else you can tell me about this particular card—
except that I should exist in the moment and try to see alternate sides of a
subject?”
“I didn’t say that.” Then he paused for a moment before adding, “As
far as numerology is concerned, this particular card is associated with 1 + 2
= 3.”
“Is that another example of Tesla’s numbers, the ones that Artemis
seemed so obsessed with?” Instances of 3, 6 and 9 were literally plastered
all over Tarot Castle, from the wallpaper, to the tapestries, to the windows.
He nodded. “The third card of the Major Arcana is The Empress—so I
would say the Hanged Man and the Empress must have something in
common.”
“And what do you think they have in common?”
 He shrugged. “That’s for you to find out.”
“Right, because nothing in this freaking situation is ever easy.”
“No one said it would be,” Luke answered, clearly not participating in
my pity party, “but as far as astrology is concerned, this card is associated
with Neptune.”
“The planet or the sea god?”
“The planet.”
“Cool. I always liked that planet.”
He gave me an amused smile and continued, “Neptune, the planet,
governs the world of dreams and illusions.” He took a deep breath. “So, you
can make of that whatever you will.”
“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered. “More cryptic clues that make zero
sense to me.”
“For now, they might make little sense to you, but that’s not to say they
won’t make sense down the road.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him, despite my confusion. The truth was
that even though all of this stuff was completely mind-boggling, I was glad
to have Luke along for the ride. Just having him around made everything
more manageable somehow. It was like he had an invisible atomizer of
Prozac, spritzing the air wherever he went.
“Hey,” he said, his tone softening as he reached out and squeezed my
shoulder. At his touch, I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what it was about
this man, but he definitely got under my skin. “I know it’s frustrating, Kate,
but you must trust the process. You’ll unlock the lesson and the power
hidden within this card when the time is right.”
“You know, patience has never been one of my strong suits.”
He chuckled and shrugged. “And, yet, it is a virtue.”
“Right,” I grunted as I stared down at Artemis’s book. As I watched, a
spot of ink bubbled up from the paper, its dark tendrils reaching across the
page like ethereal fingers. The once-blank page began to transform into
what appeared to be a long, foreboding stone hallway—like something
you’d see in a medieval fortress in Europe.
The corridor extended further out onto the page, and unyielding stone
walls appeared to stand sentinel on either side. The inked shadows pooled,
creating an image of darkness, which only accentuated my feeling of cold
and lonely isolation.
 “Are you seeing this?” I whispered to Luke, who was now leaning over
me so closely, I could feel his breath on my neck.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“A hallway,” I answered, looking up at him. “What do you see?”
“A tree,” he answered as I shrugged, figuring it must have been true
that Artemis’s book didn’t show us both the same stuff. Strange, but I
couldn’t say I was that concerned. Instead, my attention was on the ink still
appearing on the page. As I watched, the hallway’s contours materialized
with such detail that I could make out the rough surface of the stones.
“What matter of book is that?” Magnus demanded as he spied the book
over my shoulder, looking at it like it might swallow him whole.
“Shh!” I nearly interrupted him. “Zip it!”
The ink continued its spectral ballet, manifesting a cryptic passageway
and I could almost feel the cool touch of the stones beneath my fingertips—
it was that real. Like I was looking at a black and white photograph. The
ink’s journey concluded with a flourish as the last strokes shaped a stony
wall at the very end of the hallway.
“A hallway leading nowhere?” I asked, shaking my head as I glanced
up at Luke, who appeared just as confused as I was. “What’s that about?”
Luke shrugged, his eyes reflecting genuine puzzlement. “Your guess is
as good as mine.”
“Does this mean anything to you?” I asked Magnus, who was now
staring at the page as if the words “F OFF, MAGNUS!” had suddenly
appeared.
He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “It does not.”
“He won’t see what you see,” Luke reminded me.
“Oh, right,” I answered, wondering if maybe it really did say ‘F off,
Magnus’. Hopefully it did because that would have been funny.
With a sigh, I flipped the page, only to find the rest of the book blank,
just like the first time I’d looked through it. “And… the rest of the pages are
empty again,” I said, glancing up at Luke. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Interesting,” he murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“That’s it?”
He looked at me and shrugged. “I don’t know what more to say.”
“Well, it seems the book is trying to tell me something?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’d agree that’s probably true.”
“So, what is it trying to tell me?”
 He smiled in a way that told me he was trying to be patient, but maybe
my questions were so impossible, they were starting to drive him nuts.
“Kate, I have no idea. I think it’s something you need to figure out for
yourself.”
“Hmmm,” I grumbled. “Why is everything involving this moon stuff
all unchartered territory?”
Luke chuckled and then seemed to remember something because his
eyes went wide. “I have a little something for you, Kate. I forgot to give it
to you the other day.”
“Something for me?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s a gift—but I left it upstairs.”
“You got me a gift?” I asked, frowning even though I didn’t mean to. It
just—well, it wasn’t what I’d expected.
He gave me a funny expression. “I did.” Then he backed away from
Artemis’s hallucinogenic musings and headed for the stairwell that led back
into the bookstore. “Well, come on then,” he said with a grin when I made
no motion to follow him.
He led me (and by default, Magnus) back up the stairs and as we
entered the main part of the bookstore, Luke walked over to his desk and
crouched down to unlock one of the drawers. He then pulled out a small,
narrow, wooden box and handed it to me.
The box was beautiful and had ornate, celestial motifs carved on all
sides. I opened it with a gentle creak, revealing a collection of tarot cards
nestled within dark blue satin. I pulled out the deck and began flipping
through the cards, each one a miniature canvas of cosmic artistry. The backs
of the cards seemed to shimmer with a silvery luminescence, depicting the
enchanting beauty of the moon’s phases.
I flipped one of the cards over and found a crescent moon cradled in
the arms of the High Priestess. The card exuded an aura of feminine
mystique, capturing the essence of intuitive wisdom and hidden knowledge.
Seeing how the cards were well-worn on the edges, I had a good idea they’d
been well-loved by someone before. Or by many people before.
“Wow, they’re beautiful,” I whispered, still awe-struck.
The Moon card was the next one I saw—a nocturnal landscape, with a
lone wolf howling beneath the moon’s watchful gaze.
“The Moon,” I whispered as I ran my index finger across it, like it was
a picture of someone I knew personally.
 “What does that card say to you, Kate?” Luke asked, his voice deep
and soft.
I looked down at the card once more and answered, “The shadows cast
by the moon’s glow seem to suggest a sort of… dual nature maybe? Like
it’s saying there’s light and dark in all things?”
“Good.”
Each card unveiled a different facet of the moon’s influence. The
waxing and waning crescents, the full moon in all its luminous glory, and
the elusive new moon—truly, they were each a canvas of cosmic and
celestial beauty.
I looked back up at Luke then and felt strangely touched by his gift,
although I wasn’t quite sure why I was feeling the way I was—I mean, they
were just a pack of well-used tarot cards. And yet, they seemed to be so
much more than that. “Thank you.”
He winked at me. “You might find yourself needing them.” Then he
paused for a moment as he looked down at the cards in my hand with a sort
of adoration that made me wonder if they’d once belonged to him.
“Were they yours?”
He nodded. “Once upon a time, they were. My very first deck, which
were given to me a very long time ago.” Then he was quiet for a few
seconds as the nostalgic expression in his eyes blanched and he looked back
up at me before he continued. “It’s a good idea for you to get familiar with
them. Learn what each card means so you can ask the cards for guidance
whenever you need to.”
I nodded as I placed the cards back into the wooden box and put the
Hanged Man card I’d taken from Artemis’s grimoire on top. I continued to
look at it, almost as if I couldn’t tear my eyes away. “I wonder if this card
will open any doors in the castle?” I asked as I looked up at Luke once
more. He appeared confused. “I mean—the Fool card came with a key that
opened my bedroom door.” I looked down at the card again, shaking my
head. “But this one didn’t come with a key.”
“There’s only one way to find out, Kate.”
“One way?” I asked, looking up at him.
He shrugged. “Just try it.”
###
 Thirty minutes later, Magnus and I pulled up to Tarot Castle, and I was
eager to find out if the Hanged Man card might open any doors that were
previously locked. But as soon as we entered the castle, and before I’d even
hung my purse up on the hook by the door, Rocco accosted me.
“Why ya been gone so long, huh? An’ why can’t ya take me with ya
next time youz goes ta town? I’m cooped up in this castle all day an’ I could
use me a rest from yakkity-yak!”
“Rocco, I can hardly take a goat into a bookstore,” I replied, rolling my
eyes. But my mind wasn’t focused on him or his seemingly never-ending
complaints; I was determined to find whatever room might be opened by
the Hanged Man card.
Ignoring Rocco’s grumbling and Yolanda’s high-pitched nagging, I
hurried up the stairs with Magnus following closely behind. I didn’t pause
once I reached the second floor, because I already knew the tarot cards that
were pictured on each door: Justice, The Chariot, The Tower, Death, The
Moon, and finally, my bedroom, The Fool.
My heart raced as I dashed down the hall, passing all six doors, until I
reached the end of the hall and the staircase that led to the third floor. It was
a circular stairwell reminiscent of a turret in an old castle. My curiosity
piqued as I imagined all the secrets the Hanged Man might reveal.
“Okay, let’s see what happens,” I whispered to myself, gripping the
Hanged Man card tightly in my hand.
“What happens… with what?” Magnus asked.
“Shh, I wasn’t talking to you.”
I held onto the banister as I took the stairs that wound round and round
again.
“Then who were you talking to?”
I smiled, maybe a little devilishly. “The ghost following you.”
Magnus was close behind me and I could hear Rocco’s hooves as he
clomped behind Magnus, bickering with Yolanda—bickering which stopped
abruptly once I mentioned the ghost.
“What ghost?” Magnus demanded.
“Hey, boss, ya tellin’ us this castle’s haunted?”
I frowned as soon as I realized I’d just opened a huge can of worms
that I had zero interest in discussing.
“Where is this ghost?” Magnus demanded again as he turned around,
shaking the whole metal staircase.
 “An’ when did ya start seein’ this ghost, eh?”
“A while,” I answered.
“I ain’t never seen no poltergeist… not in this joint,” Rocco continued.
“I’m scared o’ spooks,” Yolanda whined.
“How ya gonna be scared o’ spooks when you ain’t even got no body?”
Rocco demanded. “Spooks oughtta be scared o’ you, fruitcake!”
“Oh, you makeen it all ‘bout my body again?” Yolanda demanded.
“No, I ain’t makin’ it ‘bout yer body ‘cause you ain’t got one!”
“Point out exactly where you see the ghost,” Magnus continued and I’d
never seen him appear so concerned. “I will run it through with my sword.”
“You can’t kill a ghost, Magnus,” I answered, shaking my head. “It’s
already dead.”
When I reached the top of the staircase, my pulse quickened with eager
anticipation. Clutching the Hanged Man card in my hand, I wondered what
would happen when I opened the door that led to the third-floor hallway—a
door that had always been locked.
“Here goes nothing,” I murmured, grasping the doorknob and turning
it. But the door remained stubbornly shut. Undeterred, I held the card up in
front of the door, on the chance that maybe the card would give off some
sort of magical mojo or something. But the doorknob remained locked. So,
I waved the card over the doorknob, hoping it might behave like a credit
card over a processing terminal but, no. I even tried to slide the card
through the crack between the door and the wall, but nothing worked.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, my frustration mounting. Turning around,
I was suddenly up close and personal with Magnus’s nipples. I pushed my
hands against his chest, trying my hardest to push him away, but of course, I
didn’t get far because the staircase was too narrow and moving Magnus was
like trying to shift a heavy boulder.
“Hey, what we doin’ up here anyway?” Rocco bleated. “Tryin’ ta get
away from the ghost or somethin’?”
“We aren’t doing anything up here,” I responded. “I was trying to
unlock this door.”
“With a tarot card?” Rocco laughed. “Sorry ta tell ya, sweetheart, but
that ain’t gonna unlock nothin’!”
Yeah, I’d figured that much out myself. Well, so much for wishful
thinking.
 While I wanted to attempt an easy retreat, the staircase was so narrow
that neither Magnus nor I could make our way back down until Rocco
moved the hell out of the way.
“Hey, Rocco,” I called down to him, past the behemoth behind me.
“Why did Artemis lock this door in the first place?”
“Beats me,” he replied as he leaned forward, taking a bite of Magnus’s
skirt (the ogre insisted on wearing his ‘warrior gear’ whenever we weren’t
in public). Rocco started chewing on the fabric, before Magnus bopped him
one on top of the head.
“All right, you,” I continued, pointing at the goat. “Get going back
down the staircase pronto!”
It took Rocco way too long to get back down the stairs, forcing me to
wait impatiently as Magnus and I were trapped in place.
“This was clearly a waste of time,” he informed me. “We should have
been training.”
“The last thing I want to deal with at this moment is you,” I replied.
As we finally descended the staircase, I had to wonder what was the
point of the Hanged Man card if it couldn’t open anything. What was I
supposed to do with it? Or maybe I wasn’t supposed to do anything with it
at all?
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, my eye caught the stained-glass
window of the Hanged Man in the dining room. Just as I’d recalled, it was
the exact duplicate of the image I saw on my card.
Curious, I hurried over to the window, wondering if it might hold any
clues or possibly a letter from Artemis? But when I looked up at it, there
weren’t any letters and nothing seemed odd or out of place. My frustration
bubbled over as I turned around and addressed the air, saying, “Artemis, I
could really use one of your annoying letters right about now! I have no
idea how to move forward! What am I supposed to do with the Hanged Man
card?”
Not surprisingly, no letter appeared before me, and my frustration only
grew.
“Hey, boss, is the ghost’s name Artemis too?” Rocco asked as he
clomped into the dining room and looked up at me.
“It’s a good thing I don’t own a gun, because I’m pretty sure I would
have shot myself by now,” I answered.
 With a huff, I decided to retire back to my bedroom, where I could
continue working on my book. At least that was something I could make
headway on. Because this Hanged Man mystery didn’t seem like it wanted
to hand out any clues any time soon.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVEN
The moonlight filtered through the stained-glass window, casting a
kaleidoscope of colors across the dining room floor.
I was dreaming, but it was one of those dreams where you realize
you’re doing just that. In my dream, I stood before The Hanged Man
stained-glass window, which seemed to dominate the entire dining room.
As I looked up at the image of the Hanged Man, who appeared to be
happy, despite being suspended upside-down, I was overcome by the
feeling of frustration. “All right, Mr. Hanged Man,” I said, feeling
ridiculous, because I was, essentially, talking to a window. “Dude, you’ve
gotta give me some kind of a clue or something as to what I’m supposed to
do next.” I mean, just holding the tarot card of the Hanged Man wasn’t
giving me any guidance at all.
And I received no response.
I frowned but just as I was about to turn away because, in my dream
mind, I really wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I noticed
something shifting in the far left, bottom corner of the window. It almost
looked like a little mouse scurrying away on the opposite side of the glass.
My curiosity piquing, I reached up on my tiptoes and touched the window
where I’d seen the shadow.
Just like that, my fingers sank into the cool surface like they were being
submerged in water.
“What in the what?” I asked as I pushed my entire hand through the
panel of glass. There wasn’t any pain, nor any feeling at all, really. Maybe
the temperature of the glass was a few degrees cooler than the air
temperature in the house. But that was about it.
The need for answers began to thrum through me and, yanking my
hand back out again, I turned to look down the hallway, in search of a
ladder. As soon as the thought occurred to me, I found myself with the
ladder gripped between my hands. If only life worked the way dreams did!
There would be no more wasting time because you wouldn’t have to search
for items—you’d just think of them and there they’d be.
Anyway, I leaned the newly acquired ladder against the stained-glass
window, hesitating for only a second before climbing up to the top. That put
me at about waist level to the Hanged Man. Then, while leaning forward, I
pushed my entire hand up to my elbow through the window.
 I then reached my arm further, up to my shoulder through the watery
glass, feeling nothing more than a cold sensation. “Well, here goes
nothing,” I whispered as I closed my eyes and shoved my head and
shoulders through the glass, waiting for the feeling of sharp glass to pierce
my skin, but there was nothing. So, I opened my eyes.
“Holy shit,” I gasped as I took in everything on this side of the window.
It was like I was looking at a realm where reality and enchantment
converged. I was inundated with a medley of colors—the landscape
unfolding in a symphony of radiant hues, as if a Monet painting had
suddenly sprung to life.
Above, the sky was a canvas of ever-changing shades, swirling in
iridescent violets, cerulean blues, and sunset yellows, all shaped in sharp
angles, as if they’d been cut from glass and placed in a window—which, I
figured made sense, considering I’d just stepped into a stained-glass
window.
Beneath me, the ground was a mosaic of luminescent crystals in all the
colors of the rainbow, lying in diverse angles, like the shapes in the sky
above. Mountains appeared in the distance, their triangular peaks covered
with opalescent snow. Not quite as far out as the mountains were structures
that rose like spires, their boldly angled architecture defying the laws of
physics.
Suddenly, I lost my balance and tumbled through the window entirely,
landing with a thud on the stretch of mosaic prisms that sparkled like glitter.
As I picked myself up, I couldn’t help but compare myself to Alice falling
through the looking glass.
“Heya, boss, we’re late fer a very important date!” a voice said,
drawing my attention to a small troll with a long, white beard and matching,
long, white hair, who instantly appeared behind me. The troll was maybe as
tall as my knees, and like the White Rabbit, he was dressed in a waistcoat,
complete with an ornate pocket watch.
“Off with ‘er ‘ead!” a shrunken head hanging from around the troll’s
neck yelled out.
Woven into the strands of the troll’s long, white beard were curious
trinkets that made tinny ringing sounds, and his whole beard swayed with a
rhythmic grace, as if it were somehow alive.
A pair of peculiar-shaped glasses (on one side was a triangle, and on
the other, a square) were perched on top of the troll’s bulbous nose, making
his strange eyes appear even larger. As for his eyes, the pupils were
horizontally rectangular, but narrow.
“Roccoan?” I asked hesitantly, recognizing the troll as the character
from my book. “Is that you?”
“Well, I ain’t the queen, now am I, jerky?” he replied, grinning. “An’
like I said, fruitcake, we’re late fer a very important date!”
“Off with ‘er ‘head!” the shrunken head, whom I was pretty sure was
Yolan, called out.
“Wait, who are we meeting?” I questioned, but Roccoan simply shook
his head and took my hand in his gnarled one, guiding me down a path that
wound through a garden. And this garden was unlike any other—a place
where enormous flowers, each with petals as vibrant as the hues of a dream,
swayed and turned to watch us as we passed them.
The colossal blooms reached up towards the Van Gogh sky with petals
that spanned the breadth of my arms if I stretched my arms as far as they’d
go. Each flower had an otherworldly beauty, with petals that shimmered in
iridescent shades. The air was filled with an intoxicating fragrance too, a
harmonious blend of floral scents that inebriated me as I attempted to inhale
as much as my lungs would allow.
“No more smokin’ the hash pipe, boss,” Roccoan said as he looked up
at me and gave me a meaningful expression.
The colossal flowers, meanwhile, seemed to communicate with one
another, swaying and turning in a mesmerizing dance as they nodded and
acknowledged us while we walked by.
“Off with ‘er ‘ead!” Yolan called out again. Then, in a softer voice, she
asked Roccoan, “You think she’s ready?”
“Only time gonna tell, Yakkity Yak,” Roccoan responded.
“Time? We don’t have much of that left!” Yolan snapped. “Off with ‘er
‘ead!”
After what seemed like an eternity, Roccoan led me through the last of
the enormous flowers, and we emerged into a courtyard that, the longer I
looked at it, the more it resembled the altar at the top of the hill in my
backyard. In the center of the circular columns stood a beautiful statue of a
regal woman, her stone features etched with wisdom and grace.
“The Empress,” Roccoan announced.
“Is she the person we’re meeting?”
“Sure is!”
 As if on cue, the statue began to shift, coming to life although it was
clearly made from stone.
Carved from what appeared to be marble, The Empress somehow
managed to have features that were both soft and supple. As I watched her
turn to face me, I was struck by the way in which her stone surface began to
almost shimmer with a strange, glowing light.
Her eyes were large and kind, although they appeared almost ageless.
And as to the question of just how old she actually was, I couldn’t put any
age on her—not just because she was made from stone. It was almost as if
she were both young and old simultaneously—her features spoke of youth
but there was a deep understanding in her eyes that a person only gets with
age. Her nose was aquiline and perfectly matched to fit her heart-shaped
face and her lips were both full and small.
The Empress’s stone gown had a flowing quality to it, as though a
gentle breeze were in the process of caressing the fabric. Somehow, and I
had no idea how it could be possible, but the statue began to speak.
“Kate Murray,” the Empress greeted me, her voice deep but smooth as
velvet. “I am The Empress, an emissary from the moon.”
“Oh, hi,” I said, not really sure how I was supposed to greet an
emissary from the moon, one who was also The Empress, no less. Should I
curtsy? Kiss her hand? Bow?
She gave a little laugh at my probably stupid response and then
continued, “It is my pleasure to tell you how pleased the moon is that you
have chosen to become one of her daughters.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “And, uh, please, uh, please relay my gratitude
to the moon for choosing me.”
The Empress chuckled and shook her stone head. “Dearest Kate, the
moon sees and hears all. If you wish to express your thanks, simply look
skyward and speak to the mother.”
Following her instructions, I tilted my head back and gazed at the
kaleidoscope-like sky. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a sense of peace
and love washing over me—the same feelings I’d experienced as the moon
cradled me when I’d first accepted my calling.
“Your journey has only just begun,” The Empress continued, drawing
my attention back to her. “And, as such, I have something for you.”
She then opened her hand to reveal a small, ornate key. I reached out
for it and when her fingertips brushed mine, they were warm—something I
found strange, considering she was made of cold, hard rock.
“Thanks,” I said.
The Empress nodded and as she placed the key in my palm, I felt a
strange sensation—like a missing piece had finally returned to its home
again.
“Do you recall what the card of the Hanged Man means, Kate?” The
Empress questioned as she looked up at me.
I thought back to my conversations with Luke earlier in the day. “A
shifting perspective, a new way to look at things.”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding her approval and the same mystery-filled
smile graced the lines of her lips. It was a smile that was just like Luke’s—
and just like Mona Lisa’s. Hmm—maybe Mona Lisa was actually a
Daughter of the Moon?
“Kate,” The Empress said, her smile widening. “Keep control of your
thoughts, before they run away with you.”
“Right, sorry,” I said as I glanced down with embarrassment.
“You are in a time of shifting perspectives,” she continued as I brought
my attention back to her. “And you are now able to look at the world
through a different set of eyes.”
“Is that why you brought me through the stained-glass window? I
asked. “So, I’d see the world in a different way—a way I’ve never seen it
before?”
The Empress smiled enigmatically. “It is you who brought yourself
through the window, Kate.”
“Oh, cool, just checking.” I took a breath. “Then did I bring myself
through the window to learn this lesson?”
“You brought yourself here because that was what you were meant to
do.”
I didn’t know what to make of that, but I didn’t ask anything more,
because even though The Empress seemed nice and all, I was kind of
intimidated and didn’t want to upset her. Instead, I stared down at the key in
my hand again, suddenly remembering how Luke had mentioned a
connection between the Hanged Man and the Empress.
Looking up at her, I ventured, “Did you have the key all along?”
Her eyes twinkled with an unspoken secret as her lips curled into
another Luke/ Mona Lisa-like smirk, but she offered no answer to my
question. Before I could press her further, Roccoan’s knotty hand closed
around mine, his grip surprisingly strong, considering he was such a little
thing.
“We gotta get goin’ now, boss,” he said, and urgency was audible in his
voice.
“Remember what Luke told you about Neptune,” The Empress called
out to me.
“That it’s the planet of dreams and illusions?” I responded as I turned
back to face her, surprised to find that she’d reverted to her lifeless statue
form, staring straight ahead as though our conversation had never
happened.
“Time waits fer no troll,” Roccoan whispered, pulling me through the
garden with long strides.
Meanwhile, Yolan called out, “Off with ‘er ‘ead!”
I barely had time to register the stained-glass window looming before
us before Roccoan gave me a forceful shove, and I fell back through the
glass, which parted around me just as easily as it had the first time.
My landing wasn’t exactly graceful. I found myself sprawled on the
floor inside the castle, my rear end throbbing from the impact. And,
strangely, I could feel the pain which was weird since I was dreaming.
Wincing, I stood up and gingerly touched the sore spot on the high plane of
my enormous ass, wondering if I’d have a bruise.
But my sore butt was forgotten a moment later when I felt the weight
of the key The Empress had given me still clutched in my hand. It was now
time to see where it led. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I sprinted
out of the dining room and up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Reaching the second-floor hallway, I hurried past the rows of doors,
searching for the circular staircase. Then I dashed up the stairs, my heart
pounding in time with my footsteps.
It felt like years lapsed until I reached the locked door that led to the
third floor. The key in my hand seemed to hum with anticipation—as if it,
too, were beyond ready and eager to open the door. So, with a deep breath, I
slid the key into the lock and turned it.
The heavy wooden door swung open to reveal a long expanse of stone
walkway, masked in darkness. For a moment, I hesitated, peering into the
gloom, but then I was overcome with the feeling that I’d seen this corridor
before. Something about it felt eerily familiar... and then it clicked.
 It was the same hallway as the drawing in Artemis’s book. Yep, it was
identical, right down to the imposing stone wall at the end of the walkway.
And then, as if someone had flipped on a switch, I woke up.
###
The moment I awoke, my heart raced with the urgency of a thousand
caffeinated hummingbirds. I bolted out of bed, my robe already in hand,
and stumbled towards the door, intent on locating every representation of
The Empress that I could find.
Naturally, the first place I planned to look was the statue of The
Empress on this floor, situated between the locked doors representing the
tarot cards of Justice and The Chariot. I was convinced that the key had to
be there or it was with another representation of The Empress; it was the
only thing that made sense after my dream.
“Oof!” I yelped as my foot caught on something firm, yet somewhat
yielding. My momentum carried me forward, but I managed to grab onto
the doorframe, saving myself from an embarrassing face-plant.
Magnus gurgled something, his voice still thick with sleep, and I,
thankfully, was able to steady myself as I tripped over him. I’d momentarily
forgotten how he’d decided to sleep in the middle of the doorway leading
into my room.
He sat up and then heaved himself to his feet before his eyes went wide
and he immediately reached for his broadsword, which lay neatly tucked
into the duvet next to him, like it was his revered childhood blanket or
stuffed animal.
“Have we been attacked? What has happened?” he demanded, his eyes
now fully wide and alert.
“No, nothing like that.” I brushed off his concern. “But I think I know
where the key is!”
“Key? What key?” His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword,
suspicion etched all over his face.
“Magnus, I have no time and even less interest in explaining anything
to you, so if you want to find out what I’m talking about, just come with
me,” I said, already hurrying down the hallway, my robe fluttering behind
me and Magnus trailing right behind it.
When we arrived at the statue of The Empress, I paused, taking in the
lifelike details of the chiseled stone. She looked exactly the same as she had
in my dream—as if she were truly alive.
She sat on a throne and her posture was upright and poised. Dressed in
an elaborate, long gown, she was surrounded by long, winding tendrils of
ivy and vines that entwined themselves around her. On her head sat a crown
of blooming flowers with a carved crescent moon in its center. At her feet, a
rich tapestry of flora and fauna unfolded, symbolizing her abundance, I
assumed, an idea that was further enhanced by the overflowing cornucopia,
which she cradled in the curve of her arm.
All the while, I kept replaying the specifics of my dream as I wondered
if it were possible that The Empress had actually reached out to speak to me
in my dream? Was everything I’d witnessed, including the key unlocking
the door, some sort of psychic vision? I then recalled how she’d reminded
me about Neptune, the planet associated with dreams. And Luke had also
mentioned the same thing—that the card of the Hanged Man was connected
to Neptune and the dream world. So, yeah, that sounded like pretty solid
evidence that The Empress had, in fact, reached out to me.
Pretty cool, if I did say so myself.
I approached the statue closer and immediately noticed her discerning
smirk, just like the one she’d had in my dream. The first time I’d laid eyes
on this statue, I’d felt judged—as if The Empress found me lacking, and
was questioning my worthiness to become a Daughter of the Moon. But
now? Now, the expression on her face was entirely different. It seemed
encouraging, even proud.
My gaze then fell on her stony hand, which appeared to be in the
process of reaching out to me, palm side up. And in her palm, I saw the
same exact key I’d seen in my dream. So, yep, I was pretty sure The
Empress had been communicating with me by way of my dreams.
“Thanks, girl,” I said, snatching up the key with a grateful grin.
I turned around to face Magnus, who still had that ready-to-pop-pimple
look you get when you first wake up—like your entire face is swollen,
puffy and angry.
“Let’s unlock that door and see what we find.”
“What door?” Magnus began, “and how did you know the statue would
offer you a key?” He eyed me narrowly. “Did the ghost tell you?”
But I was already hurrying down the hallway, approaching the spiral
staircase that led to the third floor. Magnus was quickly coming up right
behind me and once I started ascending the spiral stairs, I could hear the
sound of his sword tapping on the metal staircase.
When we finally reached the door that led to the third floor, I didn’t
hesitate. I hastily shoved the key into the lock and turned it, the mechanism
clicking loudly. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open and braced
myself for the cold mustiness of the dark, stone walkway from my dreams.
But the dank corridor wasn’t there.
Instead, I found myself staring at another long expanse of castle
hallway, doors lining both sides, that were painted with various tarot cards,
just like on the second floor. Between them were more tapestries depicting
the Major Arcana. The hallway appeared to be pretty much identical to the
one on the second floor, with the same parquet wood flooring, the same
colorful wallpaper repeating the theme of the celestial bodies, and six large
wooden doors, painted with murals of the tarot. At the end of the hall? I saw
another staircase.
All the while, I found myself wondering where in the hell was that
stone hallway?

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 CHAPTER EIGHT
“This floor is practically a blueprint of the second one,” I muttered,
taking in the long, dimly lit corridor, interrupted by six familiar doors.
“We are wasting time,” Magnus muttered, shaking his colossal head.
Really, his skull had to be bigger than a floor-standing globe. “We should
spend every spare minute in training.”
“Zip it, Magnus,” I responded, not bothering to look over my shoulder
at him. Instead, I was hell-bent on finding the door to the Hanged Man’s
room and I hoped it would be on this floor.
Just like on the second floor, each door on the third level bore a
painting of a tarot card from the Major Arcana. The first door featured The
Hierophant, which was represented by a man seated between two pillars. He
was wearing a three-tiered crown, and there were two keys that were
crossed at his feet. In his raised hand, he held a staff, and surrounding him
appeared to be his acolytes, bowing in reverence. As to what the card
meant? I had no clue. Luke was right—I needed to start educating myself
on the meaning of each card like… yesterday.
The next door illustrated the tarot card of Strength, represented by a
lion and a woman. As far as I could tell, they appeared to be in an embrace
—or maybe the woman was actually trying to subdue the lion? I wasn’t
sure. From the looks of it though, she didn’t appear to be succeeding, even
though the lion was only half her size.
Next came Temperance, embodied by a figure pouring liquid between
two vessels. In the background were the words: balance, patience, and
moderation. All were characteristics I definitely need to work on.
Door four revealed The Star, represented by a celestial figure,
surrounded by the soft glow of numerous stars in the distance. The person
was busily pouring something from two jugs (apparently, the tarot was
filled with people keen on pouring stuff). One jug emptied onto the ground
and the other flowed into a pool.
The next door revealed a painting of The Sun, which was exactly what
the artwork depicted: a jubilant sun, its smiling face radiating beams of light
that touched every corner of the painting. Beneath the sun, vibrant
sunflowers stood tall, and the background was a blissful scene of a clear,
azure sky. All in all, it reminded me of another sunny California day. And,
no, that didn’t make me resentful about being in cold-ass Vermont. Not at
all…
It took me another second to reach the final door—The Hanged Man.
“What are you looking for?” Magnus grumbled behind me, like he had
much better places to be.
“This right here,” I answered, my fingers suddenly itching like they
were more than eager to shove the key into the lock and find out what lay
behind mystery door number two. The painting of the upside-down figure
with a tranquil expression seemed to encourage me to learn the truth of his
lesson and I was beyond ready to take him up on it.
“Do you intend to unlock that door?” Magnus, ever the brainiac, asked
me.
“Yes.”
“Stand aside,” he commanded, holding up his enormous sword before
shoving me out of the way as if I couldn’t understand English. “I will enter
first, in case our enemies await us.”
“Why in the world would our enemies be locked inside a room of a
castle that Artemis magically warded to keep our enemies out?”
“I do not know, nor do I wish to find out.” He paused. “But regardless,
I will slay them.”
I motioned to the door and frowned. “Go ahead then. Have at it.”
He extended his free hand (the one that wasn’t holding his gargantuan
sword), palm side up and despite my reservations, I handed him the key.
Where Magnus was involved, I needed to be selective in choosing my
battles.
“Make it quick.”
He took the key with his massive, sausage-like fingers, shoved it into
the lock, and cranked it to the side so forcibly, I was half afraid he’d break
the damned thing.
“Jesus, Hercules, can’t you go a little lighter?”
“My name is not Hercules.”
“I know! It’s ‘He-who-has-no-sense-of-humor’.”
Magnus didn’t reply because the lock clicked and the door creaked
open. I held my breath, anticipation bubbling inside me along with anxiety.
What if Magnus was right and we were about to walk into a whole roomful
of hell hounds or banshees or dragons or something?
 “You will not enter until I give the word,” Monotone Man said as he
thrust his sword above his head and paused at the threshold of the room,
looking first this way, then that. He moved slowly, like he expected our
potential enemies to be turtles or something.
I, meanwhile, didn’t wait for his word, and stuck my head through the
door. Just as I’d expected, the coast was definitely clear.
“I told you to wait until I gave you the word.”
“Yeah, and at the rate you were going, that would have been sometime
next year.”
I walked into the room behind him and then frowned as I took in my
surroundings. “Empty? Are you kidding me?” Right—there wasn’t a
damned thing to be found inside the room. No furniture, no enemies, no
turtles, not even a freaking ‘Ha-ha! You’ve been duped’ message.
“Do you see any ghosts?” Magnus whispered, like said ghosts might
overhear him and have a ghost hissy because we’d just trespassed on their
turf.
Yes, the time would eventually come when I had to tell Magnus that I’d
completely made up the ghost story, but that time would have to wait. For
now, I was completely floored as to what the point of this locked room was.
“No, Magnus. The only thing I can see are dust bunnies.”
And cobwebs. The walls were the only things in the room of any
interest—all of them were painted with various images of The Hanged Man
and the words ‘Shifting Perspectives’.
“Seriously, what am I supposed to do with this?” I asked, my voice
echoing in the empty room. Magnus scanned the walls, his brow furrowing
as he carefully walked the perimeter of the room, his sword raised above his
head like an idiot. He kept looking behind him like he was afraid of getting
jumped by a ghost.
“There could be something behind that door,” he suggested, pointing
with the tip of his blade to a door at the furthest wall of the room.
“Good thinking.”
He nodded, then walked ahead of me and held his sword up high like
he intended to lop off the doorknob. Then he reached out with his free hand,
opening the door without any pause or hesitation.
“What do you see?” I asked as I walked up behind him. Magnus was
basically the size of a Cadillac Escalade, so I couldn’t see a damned thing
past him.
 “A staircase. One that ascends and descends.”
“Hmm,” I answered, trying to poke my head around his massive back,
but to no avail. “Let’s go upstairs first,” I decided, pushing him forward as I
tried to squeeze past him, but Magnus wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he
turned to face me, placing his free hand on my forehead and forcefully
shoved me back behind him like I was an irritating three-year-old. The gall!
“I go first,” he announced.
“Ugh, you are impossible!” I railed at him, throwing my hands on my
hips and giving him my best pissed-off expression. Unfortunately, that was
basically the only thing I could do when confronted with his ridiculous,
barricading mass.
“Better that I remain impossible, and you remain alive.”
“Whatever, Buddha, or whoever coined all those Chinese proverbs.” I
paused for a second and wondered if maybe it was all the fortune cookie
companies?
“What is a prov-er-b?”
“You know, sayings like—’man with one chopstick go hungry’ or ‘man
who run behind car get exhausted’?” Okay, maybe those weren’t exactly
real Chinese proverbs, but it wasn’t like Magnus would know the
difference. And sometimes, you had to grab a laugh where you could find
one.
“I am not familiar with any such strange phrases,” Magnus responded,
shaking his oafish head.
“It’s okay, big guy,” I answered, intending to pat him on the shoulder
but instead, patted his elbow. “Man who has enormous body and tiny brain
cannot understand much.”
He frowned down at me. “Woman, who is barely one-eighth the size of
man, should choose words more wisely.”
I looked up at him and couldn’t restrain the surprised laugh that
suddenly emerged from my throat. “Wow, Magnus, that was actually
funny!” I was pretty sure I caught one end of Magnus’s lips tilting up into a
slight but proud smile.
We reached the door at the top of the stairs, and Magnus inserted the
key from The Empress into the lock. But the door didn’t budge.
“Son of a bitch!” I groaned.
He turned to face me. “Is that another one of your pro-ver-bs?”
“No.”
 His eyebrows furrowed and he looked like he was attempting to think
really hard or possibly trying to hold in a loud fart. “Son of bitch would do
well to befriend female dog.”
I looked up at him and frowned. “That makes no sense, Magnus.”
“Son of bitch should not ask to meet father.”
My frown turned into a pained expression. “That makes even less
sense.” I glanced back down the stairs at the hallway and wondered where
the descending stairs led. “Let’s try going downstairs.”
“Son of bitch—”
“—Magnus, would you please stop?”
We descended the stairs, where I immediately noticed another door.
This time, when Magnus tried the key in the lock, it turned easily and he
pushed the door open. When I peered around him, I saw another dark
hallway stretching out before us. The floor was still the same parquet wood
as we’d previously walked on, but on top of this one was a red, velvety
runner with a series of repeating images of the Hanged Man. Magnus
started walking forward, holding his sword out in front of him like he was a
blind man with a walking stick.
“Well, we must be on the right path,” I said, as it occurred to me that
the architecture of this whole castle seemed completely impossible. “Why
would anyone design a house with hallways and staircases that are only
accessible through a bedroom?”
Magnus shrugged like his guess was as good as mine. Then he pushed
his arm out beside him, probably to deter me in case I got any ideas about
trying to take the lead.
We began walking down the hallway, my frustration mounting with
each step, because as far as I could tell, one end of the hall terminated in a
brick wall while the other end featured a wall made of... canvas?
“Son of bitch should not bother with hallway of castle.”
“Magnus, you were funny once—a time that’s now become a distant
memory.”
“I can be funny again.”
“Doubtful.”
Once we reached the other end of the hall, I approached the canvas
wall, running my fingers along its surface. The texture was rough beneath
my fingertips, and I could see colors on the flipside, backlit by whatever
room existed on the other side.
 “Why in the world would anyone make a wall out of a canvas
tapestry?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure Magnus had no idea. “It
makes no sense,” I continued. Of course, nothing in this castle made any
damned sense so why was I surprised?
“Perhaps they ran out of building supplies.”
One thing I did know was that I wanted to find out what lay on the
other side of the canvas wall, and from where I was standing, there was
only one way to do that. So, I addressed my own, personal Titan, “Magnus,
give me your sword.”
When he didn’t respond right away, I glanced over my shoulder to
glare at him, only to find him looking at me sternly. “I am the only one who
touches my weapon.”
“Ugh, whatever.” Rolling my eyes, I gestured towards the canvas and
took a step back. “Slice it open then.”
With a dramatic flourish, Magnus raised his sword high above his head,
prompting me to take another five or more steps backward, before he
plunged the blade directly into the canvas, tearing a long gash into the
fabric. He pulled the sword back out and deftly dropped the tip to the floor
before making a sweep of his arm, inviting me to feel free to inspect his
handiwork.
“Thanks,” I said as I pushed aside the clinging remnants of the canvas
wall. Then I squeezed my top half through the opening, but just as I was
about to step all the way through it, Magnus gripped me around the arm and
started pulling me back.
“I did not give you permission to leave this hallway!”
Yeah, requiring his permission went over about as well as a lead
balloon. “God, Magnus! When will you stop being such a scrotum?” I
yelled as I tried to pull my arm free, but he wouldn’t release me. “The room
is clearly empty for Christ’s sake!”
With a huff, he released me, and I stepped over the remaining canvas to
enter the room on the other side. To my surprise, I found myself returning to
the dining room!
“What the hell?” I asked as I threw my hands up in frustration and
wheeled around, needing to make sure I was, in fact, back in the original
dining room and not some other room that merely looked like it.
I glanced back at the tapestry wall and realized Magnus had just sliced
through the tapestry of the tarot card that illustrated The Lovers. It was my
least favorite of all the tarot tapestries, probably because it was the most
explicit. The lurid scene depicted two people doing the deed doggy-style.
Initially, I thought a donkey was somehow involved, but it seemed from this
vantage point, that the donkey was merely an innocent bystander.
As I stood there, still scowling at the graphic tapestry, Magnus
suddenly lunged forward and shoved his sword through the canvas again,
lifting the blade up and then dropping it down again. I smirked as soon as I
realized that the tip of his blade was now in the exact same location where
the man’s joystick would have been. So, to any observer, it looked like the
man’s knob was moving up and down as if it were some sort of bizarre,
robotic arm.
My gaze then landed on the woman in front of him, whose facial
expression conveyed irritation, which suddenly made a little more sense—I
mean, who wants to be boofed by a metal phallus?
“Son of bitch should not mount woman with robotic ween,” I said to
myself with another laugh.
Magnus swung his sword in its final arc, slicing through the canvas
from top to bottom, thus creating an opening wide enough for the giant to
walk through. When he emerged from the opening, he turned to view his
handiwork and a scowl immediately appeared on his face as he shook his
head.
“I am loath to destroy such worthy artwork,” he commented while
glancing back at the ruined tapestry.
In spite of Magnus’s clear lack of understanding as far as what
constitutes good or bad art, I couldn’t deny my frustration in this pointless
adventure. “Why would the key lead us to a hallway that terminates in a
brick wall on one end and leads back into the dining room on the other?!”
“Perhaps the adventure lies not in the ultimate destination, but in the
journey itself,” Magnus suggested.
“Great, so we went on a wild goose chase just for the sake of... what—
personal growth?” I huffed, feeling like the last thirty minutes had been a
complete and total waste. “I’m sick and tired of this! I’ve had enough
unanswered riddles, meaningless clues and dead ends to last me the rest of
my life!”
“Finding the answers you seek requires patience and persistence,
Daughter of the Moon.” Magnus turned back to face me and raised a single
brow. “As does your training.”
 “Don’t remind me,” I grunted, but then also sighed, knowing deep
down that he was right.
As I stood there, still seething about the nonsensical journey we’d just
finished, Rocco ambled over to us. He cocked his head at the tattered
canvas and, without saying a word, walked right up to it and began chewing
on one of the rough edges.
Pausing mid-chew, he looked up at me with an expression of feigned
innocence in his eyes. “What? It was already ruined, right?”
“I guess.”
He continued chewing. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout lunch, huh?” He
paused long enough to finish his mouthful and took a step closer to us. “I’m
starvin’ ova here.”

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 CHAPTER NINE
The dim light the sun was currently offering glinted off the sword I
held in my hand as I faced Magnus, his towering presence a constant
reminder of how far out of my depth I was.
The few yards of grass at the top of the hill behind Tarot Castle were
pretty much the only setting for our training, seeing how the rest of the
property was an overgrown tangle of crabgrass and weeds.
“Concentrate!” Magnus barked, his piercing eyes never leaving mine.
“I am concentrating!” I protested, but that didn’t make my clumsy
attempts even a tad more graceful or accurate.
“You will not improve until you decide to take our training seriously.”
I gritted my teeth and lunged at him, but as always, my strike was
easily parried. “You say that as if I’m not trying my hardest already,” I
muttered under my breath, while shaking my head. “Maybe if I had an
instructor who wasn’t so mean all the time...”
“Excuses will not protect you against your enemies,” he shot back,
encircling me with predatory grace as I wondered if I’d ever actually
improve. In the past few days, it didn’t seem like I was making any
headway—I was just as bad as when we’d first started.
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?” a familiar voice called out,
cutting through the tension between Magnus and me.
I turned to watch Luke walking up the grassy hill, a big smile on his
handsome face. If I’d never been relieved by his presence before, I
definitely was now, because his arrival translated to a break from this
relentless training. “Luke!” I greeted him with a big smile. “Am I glad to
see you!”
He seemed surprised by my comment, but then his smile widened, so I
figured it was a good kind of surprised. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Magnus hasn’t exactly been easy on me.”
“The easy way is the dead way,” Magnus replied.
Luke quickly laughed, like he wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. “I
decided to head over today to check on all the wards around the property.”
“Good idea,” I replied, not caring at all about the reason why he’d
come over—I was just glad he had.
“Yeah, I wanted to make sure nothing could have tampered with them
since our… well, since our last incident.”
 “Like another ground squirrel? Or maybe a badger?” I laughed, wiping
the sweat from my brow, suddenly feeling giddy that I was able to take a
real break from Magnus.
“You never know,” Luke grinned, joining in my laughter. “So, how’s
the sword training going?”
“Horribly,” Magnus and I chorused at the same time.
Luke laughed again as he shook his head and gave me an amused and
concerned expression. “Keep at it, Kate. You’ll get better in time.”
“Better?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “At this point, this training is
going to be the death of me.” I rubbed my aching arms, wincing slightly, to
prove my point.
“Is Magnus pushing you too hard?” Luke asked.
“I am pushing her as hard as is required,” the oaf responded, raising
one eyebrow like he didn’t appreciate Luke’s question.
“Let’s just say I’m walking like I’m a hundred years old, and hurting in
places I didn’t even know I had muscles.”
“Maybe I can help you,” Luke offered.
“How?”
He shrugged. “Give me a few minutes to check on the wards and then
we can have a chat about it.” Giving me a little wave, he walked away in
order to begin taking stock of the perimeter of the property, holding his
hands out before him, with his palms facing each other. A bright glow began
to build between them and pretty soon, the glow intensified into a blinding
ball of light. When he pulled his hands apart again, the ball of light
separated into two balls. As soon as he held his hands above the invisible
wards that ran the line of the fence, little sparks of light shot from his
fingertips, reminding me of sparklers on the Fourth of July. When the
sparks presumably made contact with the wards, they fizzled, simply
disappearing into thin air.
“We will continue our training now,” Magnus announced as soon as
Luke disappeared around a bend in the fence.
“Ugh! Not yet! I need a break, Magnus!”
“Breaks are for the weak and unprincipled.”
“Well, I must be weak and unprincipled then.”
“No, you are a Daughter of the Moon and you should act like one.”
And so, forced into it, I acted like one.
 ###
After another ten minutes, Luke returned from his perimeter walk and
by then, I could barely hold my sword up.
“Magnus, I’d like to borrow your student for a little while,” Luke said.
“Very well,” Magnus responded, but he didn’t appear very pleased
about it.
“My arms will be forever indebted to you,” I whispered to Luke. He
just smiled before we retreated into the cool sanctuary of the living room,
leaving Magnus outside to brood. As we entered through the double doors,
Luke’s gaze fell on the tapestry of The Lovers in the dining room, where it
still hung, sliced-in-half.
“What happened to it?”
“It’s a long story,” I sighed, shaking my head. But at his genuine
curiosity, I started to explain. “I found the key to the Hanged Man’s door on
a statue of The Empress on the second floor.”
“You did?”
I nodded. “But when I unlocked the door, all I found was an empty
room.”
“And?”
“Well, inside the empty room was a door that led to a staircase, which
terminated in a bricked-up wall at one end of the hallway and that canvas at
the other. And, no, before you ask, I have no idea why.”
“Maybe the answer will come to you in time,” Luke mused.
“Maybe,” I agreed, although I wasn’t convinced. Not by a long shot.
“I’m starting to think Artemis must’ve had a field day in setting up all these
little distractions for me.” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the
next thing I come across are booby traps, Indiana Jones style.”
Luke appeared slightly confused, and his eyebrows furrowed in the
center of his forehead. “Kate, Artemis wasn’t the mastermind behind this.”
It was my turn to frown. “Are you saying it wasn’t Artemis who set up
all these dead-ends?” How could that be? It was Artemis’s house, so who
else would have orchestrated them?
Luke shook his head. “Not exactly. Everything Artemis did was in
response to what the moon told her to do.”
“Then Artemis didn’t have anything to do with all the lessons I’m
supposed to be learning?”
 “No.”
“And all the rooms around the house that I’m supposed to unlock—she
had nothing to do with those? What about all these riddles I’m supposed to
figure out?”
He cocked his head to the side. “She had a hand in arranging them,
sure, but the moon orchestrated everything and continues to orchestrate it—
Artemis was merely a servant to the moon, as we all are.”
“You sound like the moon is a real person or something!” I replied, still
failing to grasp how any of this worked.
“The moon is an entity,” Luke answered.
I couldn’t say that cleared up much of anything, but I wasn’t in the
mood for another long and confusing esoteric conversation. Especially after
the depressing training session I’d just survived with Magnus. So, I decided
to ask about some details that might be easier to understand. “Did Artemis
know I’d succeed her?”
Luke shrugged. “She couldn’t be sure, since you were free to make up
your own mind. But it was foretold that you were meant to take over after
her.” Then he sighed. “And she’d accomplished everything she was
supposed to in her own life.”
“Why does that sound so ominous?”
“It really isn’t,” Luke reassured me with another boyish smile that
seemed to light up his whole face. “Artemis was well aware that her own
powers and abilities were limited, and after she’d learned as much as she
could, she realized she’d reached the end of her path. When she talked
about eventually handing over the reins to you, she was excited about all
the things she believed you’d accomplish.”
“Well, if she’s able to watch my training sessions from wherever she is
now, then she’s probably a lot less excited.”
Luke laughed. “Just stick with it and I promise you’ll get better.”
I nodded, but my mind wasn’t focused on my training. Instead, it was
swimming with questions about Artemis, the moon and my future. “So,
what exactly does the tarot have to do with the moon?” I asked. “I mean,
what’s the connection between the two?”
“Ah, that’s an interesting story,” Luke replied. Then he motioned
toward the couch in the living room, and I realized we’d been standing all
this time. I again wondered what it was about Luke that seemed to turn my
brain into a vegetable every time we spoke.
 I walked further into the living room, taking it in as if I were seeing it
for the first time.
The main thing to notice about the living room was the massive floor-
to-ceiling fireplace that dominated the space. It was so large, I could
literally walk inside it. Carved from aged, polished stone, it might have
been considered beautiful if it weren’t surrounded by everything else in
Tarot Castle, which was completely gaudy.
The mantelpiece was fashioned from dark mahogany, and sculpted on
either end were faces of who I assumed were The Empress and The
Emperor. Or maybe they could have been Lucy and Ricky Ricardo—
honestly, it was hard to say. What I did know for sure was that the mantel
was covered with shit: crystal spheres, candles of various sizes in ornate
holders, and countless small trinkets, all representing the cards in the tarot.
Above the fireplace, a mammoth gold framed mirror reflected the rest of the
garish room, matching the two candelabras that flanked either side of the
fireplace.
In front of the fireplace sat two plush, navy blue, velvet sofas that were
embroidered with mystical symbols and silver stars. They were covered
with so many colorful pillows, there literally wasn’t any place to sit down.
The sofas were long, and each was shaped like an ‘L’ and between them
stood a rectangular glass coffee table. It, too, was covered with various
velvet and satin swags of fabric, crystals of all shapes and sizes, more
candles, and more small tarot figurines. The knick-knacks in this place were
literally out of control.
All the walls featured more tapestries like those from the dining room,
but these featured The Star, The Sun, and The Moon. At the far end of the
room sat my favorite item—a massive crystal ball on a gilded pedestal. The
crystal ball was clear and about the size of a basketball. It did a great job of
catching the light from the window behind it, sending prismatic reflections
all around the living room.
Luke shifted a few of the pillows on the sofa before sitting down and
leaning back against the couch while crossing his arms. “To answer your
question about the connection between the moon and the tarot, I’d like to
start from the very beginning.” He took a deep breath and then he
continued. “The tarot has existed for a very long time—”
“—how long?” I took a seat on the opposite couch, dropping a few of
the myriad pillows to the floor.
 “Dating back to the fifteenth century in Italy.”
“Oh, I didn’t know it was Italian?” I wasn’t sure why I was surprised to
find that out, but there it was.
“The original artist happened to be an Italian Daughter of the Moon—
and her name was Alessandra di Genova. She created the tarot deck as a
means for the other Daughters of the Moon to come into their own power.
The cards were designed to guide all the Daughters in their lessons.”
“Is she still alive?” It might have looked like I was stupid or just
incredibly bad at math, but after becoming keenly aware that both Luke and
Magnus weren’t aging like they ought to have been, it only made sense to
ask. I mean—Magnus was in his eighties and Luke was so old, he should
have looked like the Crypt Keeper. Yet, they both appeared to be barely into
their forties.
“No, sadly, Alessandra died very shortly after she created the tarot, but
her legend lives on through the cards.”
I nodded. “And all this time, I thought the tarot was only used for
divination and fortune-telling.”
“Well, it is,” he nodded, “but, as you’re now aware, it’s also used for a
lot more.”
“How did it become so mainstream then?” I shrugged, “I mean, if it
were created as a guide for the Daughters of the Moon, why can I go on
Amazon right now and find like five million different tarot decks?”
“Through the centuries, the secrets of the tarot were exposed and
ordinary folks got hold of the cards and began using them for divination
purposes, never truly understanding the intrinsic magic and the ties to the
moon that the tarot actually possesses.”
“Huh,” I said, nodding.
Luke laughed at that, then leaned forward and gave me an amused
expression. “So, let’s talk about your sore muscles now.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, attempting to stretch my arms but they hurt so much,
I just dropped them right back into my lap. “I feel like I’ve been run over by
a semi.”
“Where exactly are you feeling most of the pain?”
“Pretty much all over, but especially in my arms and back.”
“I can help you with that, as I said before, but…”
I looked at him funny. “But?”
 “I can’t help you while you’re sitting so far away,” he answered as he
tapped the space on the couch right beside him.
“Oh.” I stood up and closed the distance between us. “What, uh, do you
want me to do?”
“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug. “Just sit down and relax and I’ll
take care of the rest.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I did as he instructed and sat
down beside him as he stood up, then knelt down in front of me so we were
at eye level and maybe six inches apart. I couldn’t remember ever being this
close to Luke and in response, my heart suddenly climbed into my throat
and started beating double-time. He just looked at me with a strange smile
on his face while I gazed at him blankly, probably looking like a moron.
A second later, he closed his eyes, and I was beyond relieved because
the silence between us was starting to make me uncomfortable. He lifted his
hands, then held them together as if he were saying a silent prayer or
blessing me. As I watched, a bright white light emerged from between his
palms, growing brighter when he separated his hands.
He opened his eyes then and stretched his glowing hands towards me,
running his fingers down the length of my bare arms. His eyes remained
fastened on mine and his touch was whisper light, but it left goosebumps all
over me. Meanwhile, my heart was pounding so fast, I felt winded—like I’d
just finished running a two-day marathon.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, not intending to sound so
breathless, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I’m removing your pain,” he answered, his eyes never leaving mine.
“How are you doing that?”
He chuckled. “With magic.” He paused for a moment, studying my
face. “Do your arms feel better now?”
I hesitated, flexing them experimentally. To my surprise, the pain had
definitely diminished significantly. Now, the only thing I could sense were
the prickling goosebumps that were covering every square inch of me.
“Yeah, they do feel better.”
“Good,” he murmured, standing up and taking a seat behind me. “Now
lean forward so I can work on your back and neck.”
As his glowing fingers began to massage the tense muscles in the nape
of my neck, I thought to myself that this was the most sensual experience
I’d had in a long time. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep inside me,
melting away the pain and leaving me with a heady mixture of gratitude
and, dare I even think it—desire.
That thought caused me to swallow hard, but at the feel of his fingers
traveling down to my upper back, I closed my eyes. Meanwhile, the pain
melted away like it had never been there to begin with. If I hadn’t felt so
damned turned on, I might have been able to relax. But as it was? I found
myself as tightly wound up as a virgin walking into an orgy.
“Lean back now, Kate,” Luke said in a soft voice, his breath caressing
my ear. I did just that and felt him lean forward until the back of my neck
was cradled in the valley between his neck and shoulder. I swallowed hard
as he brought his hands down my shoulders and melted my pain away.
When his hands were dangerously next to my breasts, I almost gasped and
quickly tried to cover my faux-pas by asking, “So, um… do the other
Daughters of the Moon know about, um… what happened with the… attack
on the castle?”
Luke paused for a moment, and I could only wonder if he could feel
the tension inside me—tension that had very little to do with my sore
muscles and everything to do with the way he was manipulating my body.
“I’ve been in touch with them about it, yes.”
“And?” It felt good to be talking—good to have something else to
focus on.
“They’re not particularly concerned about it.”
“Really?”
“They believe it was a one-time event, especially since Valerian is still
lost to the world.”
“So, they don’t think much of Ezra then?”
“No, they don’t,” Luke admitted, his hands beginning to knead my
arms once again, which started causing a very different form of torture
inside me.
“And what about you? Do you think Ezra poses much of a threat?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m less inclined to simply dismiss him
like they have.” He breathed in deeply, then exhaled and his breath tickled
my chest. “I’m not sure if what happened is any reason to panic, but I
believe we should continue to remain vigilant.”
“Sending hell hounds to kill me seems like a pretty good reason to
panic.”
 “I’m not so sure that was actually his plan,” Luke said, his fingers
slowly traveling back up my arms again. He shifted me forward and began
rubbing the middle of my back, his fingers coming dangerously close to the
sides of my breasts again.
“Why not?” I pressed, trying to force myself to pay attention to the
conversation, but he wasn’t making that easy. For a woman who hadn’t had
sex in so long it was embarrassing, this was a new type of cruel and unusual
punishment.
“Because I consulted the cards again, and when I did, they made it
clear that the hell hounds were merely a diversion.”
“A diversion?”
“Yes,” he answered as he started rubbing my lower back, before
gripping my waist as he began fanning his fingers outwards. At the feel of
the warmth of his fingers, I couldn’t stop from closing my eyes again. His
touch just felt… so damned good.
“There’s one fact to the whole situation that keeps replaying in my
head,” Luke continued, and I was glad he could speak because I couldn’t.
Especially when he began running his fingers across my stomach, coming
dangerously close to the underside of my breasts.
“Oh?” I managed to say.
I could feel him nodding. “I think it’s interesting that we never actually
encountered Ezra himself, only his hounds.” He took a deep breath and
firmly gripped me around the waist again, only much more tightly this time
and, in response, a little gasp escaped my lips.
“Are you okay?” he whispered into my ear.
“Yeah, I just—that spot hurt a little,” I lied.
“I’ll work on this area longer then,” he responded as I closed my eyes
again and prayed I wouldn’t gasp, moan or make some other embarrassing
sound. “The fact that it was only Ezra’s hounds we encountered puzzles
me…”
“Oh?”
“Well, I mean, it makes me think that maybe they were there simply to
keep us occupied while Ezra went after something else.”
“Something else?” Apparently, I could only echo him.
“Something to do with the castle, or maybe something inside the castle
is what I’m thinking.” Luke hesitated. “How about your thighs?”
 “My thighs?” I mean, come on—was this guy serious? How about my
thighs? Well, they haven’t been pried apart in years, but other than that,
they’re just swell.
“Are they sore?”
“Oh, yeah… right,” I laughed and wondered if this whole massage
might give me a heart attack. It sure felt like it could. “They, uh… actually,
they hurt too.”
When I felt his fingers land on my thighs, even though his hands were
on top of my yoga pants, I really thought I was going to have an orgasm
right there. Or maybe I’d just die. At this point, either one seemed probable.
Somehow, I managed to sit there with my eyes closed as Luke started
caressing my upper thighs, grazing my stomach every now and again, while
I worried I’d have a massive coronary.
If I managed to survive this strange form of torture, one thing was
clear: I definitely had to make a date with the shower head as soon as Luke
left.
“You think Ezra was after something inside the castle?” I repeated,
mostly to keep myself aware that we were still in the middle of a
conversation.
“I do.”
“Something like… Artemis’s grimoire?”
“Maybe,” he answered. “Actually, that’s a very good possibility.”
“Then Ezra doesn’t know the grimoire isn’t here in the castle?”
“I don’t know how he could know that.”
“Oh. Well, what would he want with it anyway?” Just focus on the
conversation, Kate, not on the fact that Luke’s fingers are like millimeters
from ground zero…
“Maybe there’s something in Artemis’s book about what she did with
Valerian, or where she put him?”
“Ah. And you can’t read her book to know for sure?”
“Right. All I can see are words and symbols and pictures that make
little sense to me.”
I felt him shrug, which caused a whole chain of events. First, his
thumbs rode up my thighs and brushed against the mound between my legs.
In response, I jumped up like I’d just been electrocuted and, in the process,
I managed to shove my enormous ass right into his face.
 “Hey, get a room, why doncha?” Rocco’s gruff voice cut like a knife
straight through my ears as he unexpectedly plodded into the living room,
effectively interrupting the single sexiest moment I’d had since I’d entered
my forties.
Maybe my thirties.
Shit, maybe my entire life!

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TEN
I was sound asleep.
Or at least, I thought I was sleeping.
But I was having one of those dreams where I was in control—where I
felt almost awake and cognizant of what was going on. I was pretty sure the
term for it was ‘lucid dreaming’—when you can actually take control of
your dreaming mind. The last time I’d felt this way, I’d encountered The
Empress and she’d given me the key to the Hanged Man’s empty room. I
couldn’t help but wonder whom I might meet this time around.
In my dream, I was walking inside a lush and beautiful garden. A
symphony of colors and fragrances enveloped me, and the air was alive
with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, their delicate perfume mingling
with the subtle smell of freshly dampened soil. Above, the azure sky
stretched endlessly, while the path beneath my feet looked like a verdant
carpet of grass, kissed with lemon-yellow blossoms. Cherry blossoms, in
soft shades of pink and white, danced delicately in the breeze, creating a
scene that could have been taken straight out of Disney’s Fantasia.
The sound of a bubbling brook added a soothing melody to the setting,
and crystal-clear water weaved through the garden, reflecting the sunlight in
playful, glimmering ripples. Along the banks, vibrant green moss crawled
over the moist earth, while willow trees left dappled shadows on the ground
beneath them. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower, adding
flashes of iridescence to the floral tapestry. The buzzing of the bees and
chattering insects harmonized with the distant song of numerous birds that
were perched high in the flowering branches.
What in the world am I doing here? I thought to myself, wondering if
Roccoan was about to show up again with Yolan strung around his neck.
But, as far as I could tell, I was here all alone. Hmm…
As I continued my leisurely stroll, I found a secluded bench beneath
the shade of a large tree, its branches laden with delicate buds. I sat down
on the bench and that was when I realized what I was wearing—a long,
white and gauzy dress reminiscent of Little House on the Prairie. But this
was like the R-rated version, because it was pretty much transparent,
clinging to my curves like a second skin, and leaving very little to the
imagination. My hair, too, had changed. It was now much longer, cascading
down my shoulders to my elbows in chestnut waves.
 Maybe I was simply dreaming and truly lost inside my subconscious,
because I was still the only person in the garden—so what could I learn if
there was no one here to teach me?
I reached out and twirled the long stem of a vibrant daffodil between
my fingers, while I thought about the fact that of all the dreams I could have
been having, this one was the biggest waste of time. I mean, why couldn’t I
dream about what needed to happen in the next chapter in my new book?
That would at least have been helpful as far as my outline went.
As far as my book was concerned, I had one chapter left to write before
I planned to send the batch of three to Janice, who was, no doubt, waiting
with bated breath. Yet every time I sat down to write another word, Magnus
insisted on giving me another practice session, or Rocco butted in with yet
another food-related inquiry. It was pretty much impossible to have even
five minutes to myself.
“You should not wear a frown in a place like this.”
At the sound of the deep, male voice that split the peaceful tranquility
of the garden, I whirled around and immediately spotted a man standing
beneath a cluster of dark, tall trees. The shadows of the trees seemed to
wrap around him, making it somewhat difficult for me to see him clearly.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my heart starting to pound.
The man stepped out of the shadows and the sunlight caught his
incredibly dark hair, making it glint purple. “I am of no consequence to you,
my beauty.”
His voice was strange—a deep baritone with a certain resonant quality
to it, as if he were speaking to me from the bottom of a well or inside a
tunnel. There was no accent I could detect, but he also didn’t strike me as
being American.
When he fully emerged from the shadows of the trees and the sun
shone on him, I was completely floored by how absolutely beautiful he was
—but in the hardest, most masculine of ways. Sure, Luke was a good-
looking guy and Magnus was the most masculine man I’d ever met (almost
bordering on caricature), but this man somehow managed to bridge the gap
between unadulterated beauty and male… well, maleness.
He gave me a knowing smirk that lifted the corner of one side of his
mouth, and I suddenly found that I, too, wanted to smile—almost in spite of
myself. Charm and allure seemed to pour out of him, and I realized how
impossible that sounded when he’d barely uttered nine words to me, so I
clearly didn’t know him from anyone. And yet, there was something in his
sensual smirk, and something in his eyes that suggested he was much more
than he appeared.
Keep your head on straight, I warned myself. It doesn’t matter how
pretty this guy is—the only thing that does matter is figuring out what he
wants from you. Or what he’s here to teach you.
Right. Good point.
The man closed the distance between us and when he was standing
only a foot or two from me, I realized how tall he was. He easily towered
over me, which wasn’t hard to do, but yeah, this guy was tall—although not
as tall as Magnus. But who was? He was definitely taller than Luke though,
and from what I could tell through his very dark clothing, he was broad-
shouldered with a trim waist and long legs. I wasn’t sure if there might have
been some sort of magic at play, but it almost seemed like he was wrapped
up in shadows—concealed by them.
“What’s… your name?” I tried again, but my voice almost failed me—
probably because I couldn’t seem to pull my attention away from his face.
Or his striking smirk. Or the expression in his eyes that told me to be
careful—that I had to proceed with caution.
But back to his face—his jawline was both strong and chiseled, lending
him an air of masculine confidence that bordered on arrogance. The angles
of his face were enhanced by his well-groomed appearance, though he did
have faint stubble, hinting at a timeless sort of ruggedness.
His eyes seemed like deep pools of emerald green, or maybe they were
midnight blue, or they might have been the darkest brown, but they
possessed an intensity I’d never seen before. Long, dark lashes framed his
eyes, and were the only part of his face that softened his otherwise extreme
masculinity. His nose was straight, leading my eyes to his well-defined and
full lips. If I’d never truly understood the meaning of the phrase ‘kissable
lips’, I definitely did now.
His complexion was untouched by any imperfection—not a wrinkle,
nor a blemish, nor a mole was visible on the expanse of bronzed, smooth
skin. I found that highly annoying since I imagined the man had to be in his
forties. Then again, he didn’t exactly look like it—in fact, he could have
been in his twenties, for all I knew. Yet… there was something in the way
he spoke or maybe the expression in his eyes that told me he’d lived a long
life.
 His high cheekbones added a hint of regality to his overall visage, and
there was definitely a whiff of ennui to his demeanor. His broad forehead
was framed by tousled hair and as to whether his hair was styled in a
modern cut or something from years past? I had no idea. Again, it was like
this guy defied any passage of time, which was completely ridiculous, but
there it was.
Eventually, I realized he still hadn’t bothered to answer my question—
something that had barely registered with me because he was that hot.
Actually, the word ‘hot’ didn’t do him justice. This guy was like sex-on-a-
stick.
“Your name?” I repeated, this time emphasizing my question with a
little glare, hopefully so he knew I meant business.
“As I said, I am a person of no consequence,” he repeated while giving
me that devil’s smile of his again. “You are the only person of consequence
here.”
“How do you know who I am?” I asked and then realized he hadn’t
admitted to knowing me. “Er, why would you say I’m the only person of
consequence?”
It was bad enough that I sounded like a complete tool in real life where
flirting was concerned, but did it really have to be that way in my own
dreams? Come on, subconscious! Great way to give a girl a complex.
The stranger chuckled and, again, it sounded like his voice was echoing
inside a hollow chamber. “I deduced as much solely based upon the fact
that you are here—visiting my garden.”
“Your garden?”
He smiled. “Indeed, it is.”
Those strangely colorful eyes of his twinkled as he spoke, and I
couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. Actually, it was more than that—I was
currently fighting the urge to reach out and touch his skin, to run my fingers
down the smooth satin of his face—just to see if his skin felt as soft as it
looked.
“Then did you bring me here?” I asked as I tore my gaze away from his
face. Glancing around me, I had to almost remind myself where I was
again.
“I do not know how you came to arrive here, my beauty,” he answered
as he took a step closer to me and I allowed him. At this point, I was pretty
sure I wouldn’t have budged even if he’d reached out and gripped my face
before planting a wet one on my lips. In fact, I sort of hoped he’d do exactly
that.
“But I am quite content in the knowledge that you’ve come here to
visit,” he finished. Then he grew quiet for a few seconds as he just stood
there, studying me. And judging by the way he was looking at me… well, it
was like he hadn’t seen a woman in a very long time. “Sometimes we find
what we need most in the moment when we least expect it.”
“How profound,” I deadpanned, studying him more intently because I
had absolutely no idea what to make of him. Was he dangerous? Or a
friend? Was he meant to teach me something? Or was he merely the result
of eating sweets too late before going to bed?
“You are wary of me,” he continued as he started to walk around me,
like he was taking stock of a prized mare. I immediately turned my body so
I could keep an eye on him.
“Of course, I am. I don’t know you.”
He cocked his head to the side as he nodded and continued to circle
me. “And although I too do not know you… I’m not wary of you.”
“Because I don’t appear threatening.”
He tossed his head back and chuckled at my reply. “My dear, the
ultimate threat to any man—and the only creature on the face of the earth
who can be the source of his undoing—is a woman.” He paused as he
studied the back of me before I whirled around to face him. “And what a
woman you are,” he continued, arching one brow.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded as I furtively glanced around
myself once more and shook my head. “Wherever here is.”
He didn’t respond but closed the distance that separated us and reached
out, as if he were going to take my hand. I immediately backed up until I
found myself against a tree that I didn’t remember being there. The stranger
gave me another knowing look before he reached out a second time and
gently took my hand. This time, I allowed him. His touch was warm and
strong as he lifted my hand to his mouth and gently pressed a soft kiss on
the top of it. It took me a second to get my brain back into gear before I
quickly stepped to one side, pulling my hand away from him.
He laughed at my reaction, clearly aware of how deeply he was
affecting me. The bastard!
“I’m here for the same reason you are,” he said finally, his eyes
twinkling with amusement. “To take a walk in a glorious place on a
supremely magnificent day.”
I eyed him skeptically while trying to place him within the Major
Arcana of the tarot—because what other reason could he be here? I had to
imagine that, like the Empress, he was here to offer me something—a clue
of some sort. But he didn’t appear to fit any card. With the predatory look in
his eyes and that devilish smile on his face, the only card that came close to
him was… well, The Devil himself. And that thought caused the weight of
an anvil to drop inside my stomach.
“Are you the Devil?”
He seemed taken aback by my question, his eyes going wide before a
huge smile appeared on his lips and he began to chuckle again with the
same deep, reverberating sound. “I’m afraid my reputation isn’t quite so
infamous.” He cocked his head to the side then and paused, as if he were
rethinking his statement. Then he nodded. “Yes, I’m not quite so infamous.”
“If you don’t tell me exactly who you are,” I started again, my
frustration growing, “I’m going to walk away from you right now.”
“I’m a friend,” he replied quickly, his expression softening as he gave
me a well-practiced bow.
A friend? Hmm… could this be…? I remembered that Artemis had
mentioned I’d receive a guardian, a guide, and a friend during my magical
journey. So far, I’d found my guardian in Magnus, and my guide in Luke,
but I had yet to meet this elusive friend. Could it be this guy? I mean—I
figured it might be.
Yeah, nice of Artemis not to mention he was also drop-dead gorgeous.
But that wasn’t the only part of this whole situation that struck me as being
less than ideal. I mean—how was he supposed to be a friend if he only
existed in the dream world? Was he the equivalent of an imaginary friend
then? Yeah, fat lot of good that did me.
“Did the moon send you to me?” I asked, trying my best to make some
sense of his presence—I mean, was this guy just my subconscious taking
me for a joy ride or did he really exist somewhere, like The Empress did.
Well, not that she existed in reality, but the point was, she’d given me useful
information I’d been able to employ in the real world, so in my mind, she
was real. Point being, she wasn’t just a figment of my wild imagination. So,
was this guy real too? Or was he the result of my body trying to tell me I
needed to get laid and pronto?
 The man didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on me in a way that
made me feel completely exposed. That was when I remembered what I
was wearing—which was basically nothing, so no wonder I felt naked
underneath the intensity of his gaze.
“I must say, you appear exactly as I hoped you would,” he said as he
brought his roving eyes back up to mine. When I looked closer, I could see
the desire swimming in them.
“You say that like you were expecting me.”
“I was expecting you—well, for quite a while now.”
“How did you know I was coming?” I eyed him narrowly.
He shrugged. “I could feel your approach, I suppose you could say.”
“What does that mean?”
“That I knew you were close by, although I didn’t know who you were
or why you were coming. It was more like I could… sense you, I suppose.”
“I don’t understand.”
He shrugged. “I cannot say in all sincerity that I understand it any
better than you do, my beauty.”
Feeling suddenly self-conscious under his constantly fixed stare, I
folded my arms across my ridiculous chest and started walking again.
“You’re quite attractive, you know?” he asked as he easily caught up
with me.
I rolled my eyes at his blatant comment, figuring it was just like any
other man to be so overwhelmed by a woman’s body, but I also couldn’t
deny feeling a small flutter of pleasure at the compliment. “How long have
you been here?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to him.
“For a very long time. At least, that’s what it feels like,” he answered
on a sigh. “But as to the exact amount of time, I’m afraid I couldn’t tell
you.”
“Why are you here?” I pressed, growing eager and even anxious to
uncover his true purpose, if he had one.
“I imagine I was put here to serve some sort of penance.”
That surprised me—maybe because he was so nonchalant about
admitting that much to a stranger. “Penance? For what?”
He shrugged, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a half-smile.
“I can’t recall.”
“You can’t remember the reason why you’re here?” I asked, frowning
at him.
 He nodded. “Yes, I can’t recall the reason, but I have to assume I must
have done something wrong, otherwise why would I have ended up here?
And for so long?”
I didn’t have an answer for him. “Do you mean you can’t leave?”
He shook his head. “No, I can’t.”
His casual demeanor didn’t match the gravity of his situation, and I
couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. Was
that because he really didn’t know the whole truth? That was anyone’s
guess. My instincts screamed that there was more to this man than met the
eye, but I couldn’t figure out what more it might be. For now, all I could do
was try to learn as much as possible before the dream ended, and I woke up.
“Who brought you here?”
“That’s another question I wish I could answer,” he replied with a
wistful smile. “But alas, I have no memory of that either.”
“How convenient,” I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to
him. But even as I doubted his story, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of
sympathy for the man—if, in fact, he was real. And if he was real, how
awful to be trapped in a dream prison for centuries, all alone with no
memory of his identity or what he’d done to deserve such a fate.
“Perhaps one day we will both find the answers we seek,” he said
softly, looking at me with a mixture of hope and sadness in his inviting
eyes. “But I shall take some solace in the fact that you found your way to
me here and now, my beauty.”
I was about to respond, but instead, I jolted awake.
Sitting up, I found myself all tangled up in my bedsheets and
disoriented by the abrupt shift from the dream world to the real one. The
darkness in my room seemed to close around me, and the only sound I
could hear was the deep, rumbling snore of Magnus, coming through the
hallway outside my bedroom door.
“Damn it,” I muttered, extricating myself from the twisted mess of bed
sheets. As I lay back down again, my mind raced with questions about the
enigmatic man from my dream. I could only wonder about him—his true
identity, what his real intentions might have been, and whether or not our
paths would cross again.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two Days Later
I sighed as I hit send, and the next three chapters of my book were now
on their way to Janice.
Leaning back in my chair, a refreshing sense of accomplishment
flooded me, but it was quickly tempered by the ever-present worry that
Janice wouldn’t like what I’d written. But that was probably just a built-in
reaction that every writer suffered from. My worries and anxiety aside, I
was happy with the set of chapters, and pleased with how the book was
going as a whole. I still had another ten thousand words to write before I hit
my goal, but those ten thousand words wouldn’t take me too much longer.
The good news was that I was pretty sure I’d hit my due date, which would
please Janice, I was sure.
Not that I was really depending on this book to be a success—I mean,
financially speaking. Just as Luke had mentioned earlier—becoming a
Daughter of the Moon meant that I no longer had any financial worries.
And, true to his word, my bank account had been practically overflowing
the last time I’d checked it. When I’d questioned Luke about potential
issues with the IRS, he’d just laughed and assured me that taxes were also
no longer something I needed to concern myself with. Although that baffled
me, there were many more pressing matters for me to focus on.
One of those issues was the dream I’d had two nights ago—the one that
featured the mysterious, and very sexy stranger. At first, I wanted to simply
dismiss the dream as nothing more than another manifestation of my
overactive imagination, but it continued to nag at me.
Come on, Kate, I said to myself. Not this again! It was just a dream—
probably the result of all the stress you’ve been under lately.
Right. Just a dream. Brought on by stress.
What was more, the dream with the stranger had been very different
from the one with The Empress—at least she’d provided me with a clue
about finding The Hanged Man’s key. The sexy stranger, on the other hand,
hadn’t offered me anything of value. All he’d left me with were questions
and more questions. The other major difference between the two dreams
was that The Empress had clearly represented one of the tarot cards—and
there hadn’t been any tarot card that fit the stranger at all.
 Right! Which only further proves the point that it was nothing but a
meaningless, stupid dream from your subconscious mind.
But it felt so real! My interaction with the man had been just as
authentic as it was with The Empress. So, that had to mean something,
right?
No. And the sooner you realize it was never anything more than the
silly machinations of your subconscious mind, the better off you’ll be.
Right.
My dream with the hot, mysterious guy wasn’t the only thing weighing
on my mind. The stark absence of communication from Artemis kept
interrupting my thoughts, as well. Before, it seemed like my aunt was
constantly sending me posthumous letters, to the point where I’d found
them beyond annoying. Now, it was radio silence, and I couldn’t figure out
why that was. Could something have happened to Artemis? Had she simply
moved on to her ever after? The idea that maybe Artemis had moved on,
and that I was now on my own (except, of course, for Luke) left me feeling
adrift on the sea.
Lost in thought, I almost missed the shrill ring of my cell phone.
Snapping back to reality, I picked it up and saw my mother’s name—Nancy
Murray—pop up on the screen.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered, trying my hardest to sound cheerful.
“Katie! I have some news!”
“You do?” I didn’t mean for my tone to sound so blasé, but there it
was.
“Yes! I called to let you know I’ve finally moved into my new place at
Happy Horizons!”
“You’re in Vermont now?” I asked, just to make sure.
“Yes, silly! How else could I have settled into my new place if I
weren’t in Vermont?” In typical Mom fashion, she didn’t wait for my
response “Oh, I just can’t wait for you to see this place, Katie-Bear! It’s just
the cutest and with the fresh paint and new carpet, it even has that new
house smell! You know what I’m talking about, right?”
“Yeah, that’s great to hear,” I answered, trying to drum up a response
that suggested some form of excitement. I just—wasn’t sure how to feel
about knowing Mom was now living so close to me—actually, I knew
exactly how I felt—I like it one bit. Yes, I loved her, of course I did, but my
life had been turned upside down and inside out. And having her so close
by… well, all I could think about was how much harder it was going to be
to keep this new life of mine hidden.
“Yes, it’s fabulous! No, it’s better than fabulous, Katie! It’s a new start!
The very first day of the rest of my life! And I’m so excited I get to share
this special time with you!”
“Me too,” I managed.
“I can’t wait to show you all around Happy Horizons, Katie! You’re
just going to love my new house. Now, I must warn you that it is small—
much smaller than my last place, but it’s just the cutest little nest you could
imagine! And I didn’t want any ties to my past, so every single thing inside
the house is brand new! I have new furniture, new bedding, new
everything!”
“You didn’t bring any of your old furniture with you?”
“Nah,” she continued before making a farting sound with her mouth. “I
left all that old stuff with Ken—I didn’t want any of it. Too many bad
memories attached to all of it. You know what I say—in with the new and
out with the old!”
“Right.” Poor Ken.
“I’m sure you’re going to flip when you see this place, Katie, in fact, I
wanted to invite you over for lunch today so you can see it! You’ll pinch
yourself when you see how adorable it is! I still can’t believe it’s all mine!”
“Mom, I’m sorry, but today isn’t—”
“—no excuses! Katie, we’re only ten minutes away from each other
now so there’s absolutely no reason we shouldn’t see each other every
chance we can!”
I could describe a couple of reasons right off the top of my head—
Rocco and Yolanda, for starters.
“And what’s more,” Mom continued, “there will be no more going for
months at a time without talking. That’s why I moved out here in the first
place—because I wanted to enjoy a closer relationship with my only
daughter.”
“Right.”
“Right is right. So, what do you say? Lunch at noon?”
I hesitated, a whole host of thoughts and worries coursing through my
head. First, there was Magnus—I knew he’d insist on accompanying me,
since he refused to let me go anywhere on my own. And explaining the
reason why a sword-wielding guardian had escorted me to my mother’s
house wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do. Then I remembered the spell
Luke had put on Magnus, the one that made him look like a normal person.
I wondered if that spell would also work when it came to my mom. If the
magic in my family really had skipped a generation, as Artemis had claimed
it did, then I felt somewhat confident that Mom would fall victim to Luke’s
magic just as easily as every other person did.
“Of course, if you’d rather invite me over to Artemis’s house—well, I
guess I should call it your house now, then that’s fine too. I mean, as much
as I wanted you to see my new place, I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t
dying to see what sort of interior design taste my sister had.”
“Very little unfortunately,” I answered as I glanced around myself. I
could only shake my head at the ridiculous décor that characterized this
equally ridiculous castle.
But the thought of my mother coming here—well, that instantly
launched my heart into my throat. It simply came down to picking the lesser
of two evils—and, in this case, the lesser evil was going to Happy Horizons
and visiting her. “No, no, Mom,” I said quickly, “I’m happy to come over
and see your new place.”
“You know, I don’t mind coming there to see you.”
“No,” I insisted, “it’ll be nice to get out of the house for a while—it can
be… a little bit stuffy here.” I knew I’d have to eventually invite her over at
some point. Otherwise, it was going to become very clear that I was trying
to avoid her at all costs. But that time definitely wasn’t today. Maybe I
could ask Luke to enchant the castle before she visited me—and make her
think it looked like just another run-of-the-mill house. I made a mental note
to ask him about doing just that.
“Great! So noon works for you?”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay, Katie-Bear, I’ll see you soon. I’ll text you the address after we
get off the phone.”
“Great, Mom.”
“Okay, bye for now!”
“Bye, Mom.” I hung up the phone and sighed. Although I’d
successfully dodged one awkward situation, I knew that introducing my
mother to my new life was inevitable. I couldn’t avoid it or her forever.
Then another issue reared its ugly head—how was I going to explain my
new body? The thought made my stomach churn.
 ###
The Jeep rumbled along the road as I glanced over at Magnus. He’d
been squirming in his seat from the moment we’d left the castle. Dressed in
jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, he looked completely uncomfortable. And I
did have to admit, Magnus in normal clothes didn’t exactly suit him.
“I do not approve of this new clothing. I find it much too restrictive,”
he complained, reaching down to adjust himself for the nth time.
“You’ll have to deal with it, Magnus,” I retorted, glancing over at him
with a frown. “If you insist on coming with me wherever I go, then you
have to dress the part.”
“Everywhere the Daughter of the Moon goes, I too go.”
“Right—which is why you have to wear normal clothes and at least
make an attempt to blend in with the rest of the population.”
“The small man’s magic that conceals my true nature from the public
should also allow me to dress as the warrior I am.”
That was a good point, but also one I didn’t want to consider at the
moment. Truly, I needed to better understand the way Luke’s magic worked
but that was a conversation for another day.
I looked over at Magnus again. “Just deal with it. And another thing,
there will be no more calling me ‘Daughter of the Moon’ in front of my
mom.”
“So you have told me now five times.”
“Well, I want to make sure it sinks in, and you don’t forget it.”
He looked at me with a deadpan expression and nodded. “It has sunk
in.”
“And don’t forget that my mother’s name is Nancy Murray. And be
sure you don’t mention anything about your otherworldly origins, okay?
Nothing about being a warrior from another dimension. And definitely not a
word about Rocco, or that he’s a talking goat. And be sure you don’t
mention Yolanda at all.” I thought more about it. “And absolutely nothing
about magic altogether, okay?”
He frowned and replied, “I am not stupid.”
“Just tell me you understand what I’m saying.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” I finished, returning my eyes to the road again. Waze had just
announced that we were five minutes away from our destination. “I want
everything to go as normal as it possibly can.”
I took a right onto the next street and soon we approached a gate with a
sign identifying the location as ‘Happy Horizons’.
“Here goes nothing,” I sighed as I stared at the gate-guard station. Two
stone pillars proudly flanked both sides of the entrance gates. They were
attractively garnished by hanging baskets, overflowing with cheerful
flowers, and I felt like we’d just arrived at the Disneyland Hotel.
I rolled down my window and the subtle aroma of pine mingled with
the sweet scent of the blooming flowers as it wafted into the Jeep. Beyond
the wrought iron gates, I could make out a winding road that meandered
through the meticulously landscaped gardens and even though it was
beautiful, I couldn’t get past the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Kate Murray here to see Nancy Murray,” I said to the guard. He
responded by looking down at his list and apparently finding my name, he
nodded and handed me a placard to display in my windshield.
“Take a left on Shady Lane, follow it to the end, and then turn right on
Pine Road,” he told me. “Nancy’s house will be on your left.”
“Thank you,” I replied, rolling up my window as I took the deepest
breath I could and prayed this would all go well.
As we drove through the gates, my heart started pounding and I
wondered what in the world my mother would think of Magnus. And how
could I explain why he looked and sounded so completely… different?
Never mind Magnus, I said to myself. How are you going to explain the
way you look now?
Of course, she’d probably guess that like her, I’d had a ton of plastic
surgery. What else could explain the disparity in my appearance? I’d gone
from having the body of a twelve-year-old boy to that of a pinup model
from the 1950s! Ugh, this was not going to be fun. Not by any stretch of the
imagination.
Almost as soon as I turned left on Shady Lane, I spotted a man and a
woman walking down the street and my heart about dropped into my shoes.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in
disbelief because they both were totally and completely naked.
“Son of bitch—” Magnus started, but I held up my hand and halted
him.
“I absolutely do not have the patience for one of your jokes right now,
Magnus,” I managed. Then I started shaking my head at the realization that
my mom had totally lied to me about this place not being a nudist colony.
“Why does it appear the aged humans have abandoned their clothing?”
Magnus asked me, his brow furrowing as he turned from the old, wrinkled
couple to me.
I took a deep breath and tried to convince myself I could handle this.
It’s no different than the last nudist colony Mom chose to live in, Kate.
And you eventually got used to that.
I never got used to it! I argued back.
“I do not understand this,” Magnus continued, pulling my attention
back to him.
“Remember when you told me that people in Galaxy 9 didn’t wear
clothes?” I asked him, trying to keep my cool, trying not to react to the fact
that Mom had totally pulled a fast one over on me. I should have known
that would be the case, because when I’d asked her if this place was another
nudist colony, she dismissed the subject quickly.
Magnus nodded, still looking perplexed. “Yes, but...”
“Well, this place is like Galaxy 9,” I explained. “Except here…
everyone is super old.”
Magnus frowned as he put his window down and leaned out, craning
his neck to stare at a naked man who was taking his dog for a walk. “That
human’s… what do you call those?” He turned to look at me.
I looked over at the man and instantly knew what Magnus had honed in
on. “Balls, but they’re also called nuts and testicles and gonads—just to
name a few.”
“That human’s go-nadicles reach his knees.”
“Magnus, roll the window up and stop staring. It’s rude,” I informed
him, even as I tried to keep the smirk off my face because ‘gonadicles’
might have just become my new favorite word. “You’re going to get us
kicked out of here before we even arrive.”
“Strange,” he responded, but he did put the window back up, so I was
glad for that. All the while, though, his eyes kept scanning the bare bodies
casually strolling around us as he nodded to himself and kept repeating
‘gonadicles’.
I took a right on Pine Road and spotted my mom’s house, number 34,
on the left. It was a charming little cottage, painted white with light blue
trim, and a white picket fence ran the perimeter. Inside the fence was a
winding walkway leading to the front steps, and beside the walkway were
lush roses in every shade of pink.
I sighed, and the knot of anxiety that was growing in my stomach
churned painfully as I pulled up in front of the tidy, little cottage before
parking the Jeep. I turned the engine off and looked over at the behemoth
sitting next to me.
“What?” he asked.
“Just try to be… normal.”
“I am normal.”
Right. “Let’s just get this lunch over with,” I grumbled, unbuckling my
seatbelt before I stepped out of the car. Then I walked towards the front
door, with Magnus right beside me. He clutched the potted plant I’d brought
as a welcome gift in one hand and his ridiculous sword in the other.
I knocked on the front door, which was painted pink, and almost
immediately, it swung open to reveal my mom.
And she was completely naked, just like I’d feared she would be. Well,
except for the purple, fuzzy, heeled slippers.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped, instinctively averting my gaze.
“Katie!” she called out happily, her attention fastened on me for all of
one-and-a-half seconds before her gaze landed on Magnus, her eyes
widening at the sight of him. “Won’t you both come in?” she asked, her
eyes never leaving Magnus as she distractedly started caressing the front
door like she thought it was Magnus’s chest.
Not wanting to linger outside where all her neighbors could see us, I
immediately walked inside the house with Magnus on my heels before
Mom closed the door behind us.
“And who is this very… large and… handsome… man?” she asked me,
her voice dripping with desire. She then sidled up toward Magnus again and
gave him the most suggestive smile she could muster.
The air seemed to thicken with tension as Magnus suddenly thrust the
potted plant toward my mother, as if it had just bitten him. “This is for you,
elderly and naked Murray woman,” he said, his voice just as monotone as it
always was.
Not that my mother noticed. No, her eyes were too busy traveling over
the span of his shoulders and his chest. She accepted the gift but never even
bothered to look at it, keeping her eyes riveted on him instead.
“Thank you,” she whispered in a husky tone.
 My mother was a beautiful woman and always had been. Growing up, I
was in awe of her, and it wasn’t until I hit my teen years that that awe
blanched as I started to see her for the narcissistic, shallow person she really
was. Regardless, she was still a very attractive woman. Yes, much of that
beauty was now owing to plastic surgery, but hey, whatever made her
happy.
The last time I’d seen her, the color of her hair had been similar to mine
—chestnut brown. Now, however, it was almost fire engine red, an
obnoxious shade to be sure, but somehow, it seemed to work,
complementing her tanned complexion and dark, green eyes. Freckles, like
faint constellations, peppered the bridge of her small nose and her rounded
cheeks. The lines around her mouth were subtle, no doubt owing to her
recent facelift, but her lips were still full and might have been the only part
of her face the plastic surgeon hadn’t tampered with.
Her posture was always upright and dignified, and when she walked,
she swayed her hips like the classic sirens from the golden age of
Hollywood.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me the truth about this place when I asked
you?”
She returned her attention to me and almost seemed surprised to see me
still standing here. “Because if I’d told you the truth, Katie, I knew you
wouldn’t come and visit,” she answered matter-of-factly. Her eyes locked
on Magnus once again as she smiled, but this time with a bit more
hesitation. “But I had no idea you were bringing… a friend with you?”
“I am not the Daughter of the,” Magnus started to reply, but he quickly
swallowed the rest of the words when I speared him with the look of death.
“Er, a friend, but a protector.”
So much for keeping our little secret.
“A protector?” Mom purred, her voice sultry and teasing as she walked
closer to Magnus and put the already forgotten plant on a side table. Then
she took his arm like a kitten wrapping itself around its owner’s leg. “Well,
isn’t that fascinating?” Her attention never left Magnus as she then added,
“Kate, would you introduce us properly?”
“Mom, this is Magnus,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Magnus, this is my mom, Nancy.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Mag-nus,” she drew his name out as she
reached over and played with his top button. For a moment, I was afraid she
was going to rip the shirt right off him.
“And… Katie, is Mag-nus your boyfriend?”
“Absolutely not!” I answered.
Then Magnus repeated, “I am her protector.”
Mom let out a delighted giggle at hearing that. “How intriguing. I wish
I had such a large, muscular and intimidating man to act as my protector.”
She started shamelessly rubbing herself against him, while looking up at
him with a coy smile. He glanced down at her, his eyes settling on her large
breasts, where they remained.
“Your heaving mounds are very round and buoyant for your advanced
age,” he said, looking up at her eyes again as if he were appraising a piece
of art. “I approve.”
“Oh, these old things,” Mom giggled as she waved them away like they
were yesterday’s news. All the while, she was clearly basking in his
attention. “I was just telling Katie I wanted to invest in some new titties.”
“The present ones are more than adequate,” Magnus answered. I had
no idea if he found my mother’s advances off-putting or wanted to
encourage them. While Magnus appeared to be the simplest of men most of
the time, he was also basically impossible to read.
“What a flatterer you are,” Mom said as she patted his chest too
familiarly.
His eyes, meanwhile, roved down the rest of her body. “You have a
very fertile shape, Nancy Murray, and you have obviously kept yourself in
prime condition.”
“Oh, thank you,” she crooned, holding onto him even tighter. By this
point, I might as well have vanished into thin air, which I would have
preferred a thousand times over.
“I approve of your choice to live without clothing,” Magnus finished.
“Oh, well, please feel free to take your clothes off too,” Mom
responded, becoming blatantly flirtatious as she added, “after all, it’s the
way we do things here.”
“Mom!” I snapped, utterly horrified. “He’s not—” Then I glanced over
at Magnus, who was shrugging like he thought it wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Don’t even—” I started.
But my words came too late, because Magnus had already dropped his
drawers and now stood there, as starkly naked as my mother was.
 “Oh, my…” Mom said as she glanced down at his oversized maleness.
“Well, I’ve never…” She brought her hand up to cover her mouth and her
eyes went wide. “It’s… I just… oh, my goodness!”
There have been a few times in my life when I’d wished the hand of
fate would simply smite me right off the face of the earth and this was
definitely one of those times.
In fact, it might have topped the list.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWELVE
I was still trying to fully digest the bizarre scene unfolding before me,
and doing my best to keep my composure all the while.
Neither was easy.
My mother and Magnus were sitting across from me at her new dining
table, and she was draped over him like a silk scarf around his neck. As if
that weren’t bad enough, she was also cooing at him like a baby bird
waiting for its mother to regurgitate into her mouth. Yeah, that might have
been a gross comparison, but the grossness factor was an understatement
compared to the situation that was currently developing before me.
Worst of all, they were both as naked as the day they were born.
Egad.
I couldn’t conceal my grimace as my mother reached for another
strawberry and held it up to Magnus’s lips. She’d put out a whole plate of
them on the table and was now feeding them, one by one, to Magnus,
allowing her fingers to linger on his lips. As to what had become of the
lunch she’d promised me? I imagined it must have been promptly forgotten
as soon as her eyes landed on Magnus.
I didn’t know how much more of this I could stomach as I quickly
glanced at my watch. Much to my amazement, we’d only been here for
twenty minutes! Twenty freaking minutes! How could that even be possible
when it felt like an eternity!
“Magnus,” she started to say, looking up at him while she blinked her
obviously fake eyelashes at him multiple times. “What’s your last name?”
I was nervous that Magnus would say too much, so I started to respond,
but he beat me to it.
“I am Magnus Stormrider.”
“That’s a strange last name,” Mom replied, frowning as she shook her
head and appeared to be trying to categorize it. “Stormrider? What
nationality is that?”
“Magnus is from…” I started to reply, wracking my brain to figure out
how in the world I could explain his ancestry. Coming up short, I settled on,
“Denmark.”
“Oh, you’re Danish?” she asked, like that made all the sense in the
world.
 “He is,” I answered, before he could open his stupid mouth to argue.
Then I gave him a look that warned him he’d better not even try to. He
raised one brow before he opened his mouth for another strawberry.
“Then you must be Viking stock, aren’t you, you great, big, plundering
man,” Mom said. She gave him an enticing, promising smile and ran her
hand up his chest for the nth time.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, shaking my head as I wondered how in the
world I could beat a quick retreat. At this point, I’d happily have left
Magnus with her. Actually, that wasn’t such a bad idea…
“So, Katie-Bear—”
“—can you please stop calling me that?” I snapped. “I’m a grown
woman, Mom—not an eight-year-old child anymore.”
She frowned. “How do you like living in Artemis’s house, Kate?”
“It’s okay,” I replied, suddenly grateful for the new topic so I could
concentrate on something other than whatever the hell was going on in front
of me. “It’s definitely… different.”
Turning her attention back to Magnus, she asked, “And where do you
live?”
“In the hallway,” he responded simply as my eyes went wide.
“The Hallway—is that the name of an apartment complex?” Mom
inquired, raising a single, penciled eyebrow.
“No, he lives inside the… uh… inside the house with me,” I
interjected. Then I realized I’d just paved the way for a ton more questions.
“Really?” she asked as she looked from me to Magnus. “Why is that?”
“Because I am her protector,” Magnus explained stoically, “and I go
wherever she goes.”
Mom nodded but her confused expression knitted her eyebrows
together once more. “Why on earth does Katie need a protector?”
“Um… well, you know,” I stammered, eager to answer the question
before Magnus spouted out something about the moon and my calling as its
daughter.
“No, Katie, I really don’t know why.”
I shrugged. “The life of any successful writer can be threatened… you
know, by stalkers and all.”
“Stalkers?” Mom leaned in, suddenly growing very interested. “Do you
have a stalker, Kate?”
 “Um… well, no… not exactly,” I hedged, “but that’s because I’ve got
Magnus to protect me.”
“Ah,” Mom said as she leaned back into her chair, apparently mollified
for the moment. She looked up at Magnus and fed him another strawberry.
Desperate for any reprieve from Mrs. Robinson and her intended prey, I
announced, “I need a glass of water,” before I quickly stood up.
“Katie! You’ve got boobs!” Mom suddenly yelled out, clapping her
hands together like a delighted child. Then she jumped up and grabbed my
arm before I could successfully get away. “Let me have a better look at
you!”
“Do we really need to do this?”
But her eyes were completely captivated by the twins on my chest. She
even reached out and pushed on them, as if she half-expected two balloons
to suddenly float out from underneath my shirt. “You finally took my advice
and got yourself some titties!”
“Mom—”
“—I’m so happy to see that, Katie! And they look… absolutely
fantastic!”
“Thanks,” I grumbled, unsure how I should feel about being felt up by
my own mother.
“When did you get them, darling?”
“Uh, recently,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.
That was when her eyes roamed down to my waist and my amply
girthed hips and massive thighs and her eyes grew even larger. “And you
got your ass done too!” She brought her hand to her mouth and looked up at
me as if I’d just come home with a report card of straight As.
“Oh, God,” I grumbled.
“Either that or you’ve put on weight,” she said as she drew back and
assessed my lower half. “But your waist is so tiny now.” She looked up at
me. “Did you have some ribs removed?”
“No, Mom, I didn’t have any ribs removed.”
She nodded. “Then it must be an optical illusion since you’ve now got
a good pair of hips and you finally have a butt!” She walked around me, no
doubt to get a better look, and then faced me again. “You must have gotten
butt implants?”
“Right.” I mean, what else could I say? I couldn’t tell her the truth, that
was for damn sure.
 “Where’s your surgeon? In Vermont or California?” she persisted, as if
we’d finally found a subject we both had in common.
“Vermont,” I lied.
“Well, he did a fantastic job,” she said, nodding as she continued to
stare at me unabashedly. “And I’m over the moon to see you finally took
my advice.” She looked back at Magnus with another nod. “I’ve urged her
for years to improve on what God gave her.”
Magnus just grunted.
Mom turned her attention back to me. “There’s nothing wrong with a
woman taking what she was born with and allowing a skilled surgeon to fix
the rest, right?”
“Right,” I answered, figuring it was the easiest way to end this
conversation as quickly as possible.
“Anyway,” Mom continued as she sashayed back towards the table,
where she resumed her seat beside Magnus. “Make sure you wear
supportive bras, Katie, and remember this: all breast implants have an
expiration date.” She then reached down and grabbed another strawberry,
which she fed to Magnus.
“Thanks, Mom, I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered.
“Speaking of which,” Mom said, her voice taking on a conspiratorial
tone, “would you introduce me to your surgeon? I’m in the market for a
new set of tatas, myself.” She glanced at Magnus and asked, “What do you
think?” Then she thrust her hands underneath her breasts and lifted them up
for his inspection. “I’m considering going the next size up.”
Magnus finally tore his gaze away from the strawberries and looked at
my mother’s ‘tatas’ thoughtfully.
“You are already buoyant and would be difficult to drown,” he
answered as I just stood there mutely, wondering whether my guardian
actually possessed a brain. “Were they any larger, your mounds might pose
a risk of suffocation.”
###
I woke up, or at least, I thought I was awake.
My bedroom was shrouded in darkness, and the digital clock on my
nightstand read 3:17 AM. I sat up and rubbed my eyes as I stifled a yawn.
But when I glanced down, something strange happened—I could see my
body still lying there, as if I were looking down at it. It was like what I
imagined people experienced when they astrally projected themselves—like
an out of body experience. Regardless, the sleeping me appeared to be very
peaceful.
It might have been a second or so later when the walls of my bedroom
began to dissolve, like ink washing away in water. I glanced up and found
my ceiling transforming into a canopy of velvety foliage, while rays of
moonlight began to brighten the dissolving walls.
As the bed melted away, it converted into a thick patch of grass that
stretched out before me like a plush carpet. The fragrance of blooming
flowers wafted through the air, blending with the cool night breeze as it
started to dawn on me where I was—inside a garden.
But was it the garden?
“Don’t fret, you aren’t dead.”
The familiar voice made me shiver and I looked up to find the sexy
stranger I’d met in this garden only a few nights earlier now standing beside
me.
“You again!” I said, feeling a mixture of annoyance and confusion as I
got to my feet and faced him.
“Yes,” he replied, and his debonair smile warmed something inside me
that had been chilly only a few moments earlier. I hated the effect he had on
me—it was like an instant, irresistible attraction I experienced as soon as I
looked at him—something that was also sexual.
“Why am I back here?” I demanded, trying to assume control of the
situation.
“That, my beauty, is a question you must ask yourself.”
“Because you don’t know the answer? Or because you won’t tell me?”
His response was no more than an enigmatic smile. He began walking
then and I wasn’t sure why, but I followed him. Maybe it was because I
needed to get some answers from him or maybe because I knew he
expected me to follow him.
“Perhaps you willed yourself here,” he continued, this time with a
shrug. Then he turned back to face me. “Or perhaps it was because you
missed me,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Missed you? I don’t even know you.” Still, I couldn’t deny there was
something so magnetic about him. And as much as I knew I was dreaming,
every detail of our interaction, every whisper of the breeze, every step on
the dew-soaked grass—all felt so vivid, and so real.
 “There is no stranger here,” he responded. “I am only a friend you
haven’t yet met.”
I looked at him then, really looked at him closely. “So, your memory is
well enough intact that you can manage to quote Yeats, but I’m going to
guess that you still don’t remember your own name?”
He cocked his head to one side before he nodded. “I admit you are
correct… it is rather sad but true that I cannot remember my name or who I
am. All I know is that... I simply am.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“Maybe it isn’t for either of us to understand,” he replied cryptically.
Annoyance bubbled up inside me, and I planted my hands on my hips.
Then I stopped walking and he stopped also, turning fully around to face
me. “All right, then why don’t you tell me what you do know?”
He just shrugged, as if my questions were of little importance to him.
“I cannot tell you much, I’m afraid. I don’t know who I am or why I’m
here. Although I must confess, it’s very nice to have your company again.
Walking these paths day in and day out can get rather tedious.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. We were talking in circles again, and
going nowhere. “Why do you keep reappearing in my dreams? Can you tell
me that much?” At his somewhat baffled expression, I continued. “Do you
have a message for me? Or some sort of clue that I need to know?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t even know my own name, so
how would I know if I have a message for you? Or a clue to impart?” Then
he paused and frowned. “A clue for what?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, feeling deflated. I didn’t know what to do
about him or whether I needed to do anything about him at all. Maybe this
was just the second incident of a strange dream that was really nothing
more than that. Maybe the first one had bothered me so much that it had
etched itself into my subconscious and this was the outcome—dream
number two. But no… somehow, that didn’t feel right. No matter how much
I tried to diminish it as nothing more than a dream, I couldn’t shake the
nagging feeling that there had to be a reason this man kept appearing to my
sleeping mind.
As we walked through the garden together, I tried to piece together
what his presence could possibly signify. Was he some sort of guide,
leading me to a hidden truth about the path I needed to walk? Or did he
represent a part of myself I needed to confront? The real question was: what
in the world did he have to do with The Hanged Man?
“I can only imagine how frustrated you must be,” he said gently,
breaking my train of thought as I turned to face him once more. “But
perhaps we’re both here for the same reason, even if we don’t know what
that reason is yet?”
“Great,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “Two lost souls,
wandering around a dream garden, with no idea what they’re doing there or
why. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”
“Or perhaps, it is the start of an adventure?” he countered with a wink.
We walked for another few seconds in silence as I tried to weigh his
words and decide what to make of them. I couldn’t come to an answer
regarding anything, so I figured I might as well just leave the questions
alone for the time being. “All right,” I sighed, trying to shift my viewpoint
as I faced him once more. “Well, first things first—everyone deserves to
have a name.” I mean, I needed to call him something, right?
He smirked down at me. “Are you going to name me then?”
“Do you want me to give you a name?”
He nodded. “I should like nothing more.”
“Okay… how about…” I closed my eyes as I searched my brain for a
name, any name. “Richard?”
He frowned.
“No to Richard?” I asked, trying to hold back a smile, because the truth
was he looked nothing like a Richard.
“No to Richard.” Then he paused. “What is your favorite name for a
man?”
I thought about the question for a moment and then thought more
deeply about it because no one had ever asked me that question before.
“Um,” I started. “I’ve always been partial to the name, Gray.”
“Gray,” he repeated, like he was trying the word out on his tongue.
“I think it actually sort of… suits you.”
He smiled at me. “Then Gray it is.”
We walked in silence for another stretch before I asked, “Let’s talk
about the things you do know. Is there anything you can tell me about
yourself?”
“Gray,” he corrected me, as though he were saying he wanted me to
repeat his name.
 “Gray,” I obediently replied.
He shrugged then, his eyes searching the garden around us as if he
were expecting the answer to reveal itself among the foliage. “I know I’ve
been here for a long while. And as I mentioned before, I believe I must be
atoning for a misdeed from my past, although I don’t know what that
misdeed might possibly be.”
“Why do you believe that to be the case?”
“Why else would I be imprisoned here?” he replied with a shrug, as if
that much were obvious.
“Imprisoned here?”
He nodded, “When you’re stuck in a place with no memory of who you
are or how you got there, it starts to feel like incarceration.”
I paused, considering his words. I couldn’t deny that there was
something eerie about this place. The vibrant colors and lush foliage were
undeniably beautiful, but there was an underlying sense of ultimate
confinement. As if the garden held a secret it was desperate to keep buried.
As we wandered the winding pathways, I started thinking about what
he’d said. He’d been stuck in this place, unable to go anywhere else or
escape it—with only the passing of time to keep him company. What did
that remind me of? It was something like the situation with The Hanged
Man— a figure who was forced to focus solely on his current situation
because he was unable to do anything else.
Hmm, okay, that was a good start.
“Sometimes,” Gray continued thoughtfully, “I wonder if this garden
might be a reflection of my own addled mind.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by that.”
“Perhaps I’m trapped inside myself, unable to escape from my own
confused thoughts.”
“Or maybe you’re just dreaming, like I am,” I offered, trying to lighten
the mood.
“Perhaps,” he agreed with a wry smile. “But if that were the case, then
why do you keep dreaming of me? What do I represent to you?”
“An unsolved mystery?” I replied, my frustration returning, because
this riddle seemed impossible to figure out. “You’re a puzzle to me, one that
I can’t solve, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Sometimes there simply is no solution.”
 “I doubt that’s the case here,” I answered, shaking my head as I hoped
that wasn’t the case because I didn’t know how I was supposed to master a
lesson that had nothing to teach.
“By the by,” he added, turning to look right at me, “you never told me
your name.”
“Kate.”
He reached out a large hand and gave me a boyish smile. “Pleased to
make your acquaintance, Kate. I’m Gray.”
I took his hand and laughed as I shook it.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The warm scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air as I sat across from
Luke in a cozy, little Italian restaurant in town called Nona’s’.
The flicker of candlelight danced on his face, highlighting his strong
jawline and warm, brown eyes. It could have been a romantic setting, but I
couldn’t help stealing glances toward the front of the restaurant, where
Magnus was patrolling like a lion guarding his pride. Every so often, he’d
give me a cautious glare, as if he were making sure no one dared approach
me.
“Kate, you’re doing it again,” Luke chided me gently, bringing me
back to the present. “Magnus can handle himself. Let’s just enjoy our
dinner.”
“Right, sorry.” I took a deep breath, gazing at the man in front of me.
Then I dropped my attention back to my plate of mostly uneaten chicken
piccata.
“Okay, what’s on your mind?”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Am I that obvious?”
“Do I have to answer that question?” he laughed.
I laughed with him, although my mind was still pretty much entirely
preoccupied, just like it had been all day. I swallowed hard and finally
decided to talk to Luke about it. “So, I had another dream about that
mystery man in the garden,” I began to say, suddenly eager to discuss my
latest dream visitor with someone who might understand. It was the same
reason I’d asked Luke to dinner—because I was hoping to shed some light
on the strange dreams I kept having.
“Did you?”
I nodded. “It’s the second one I’ve had now, but I still don’t know what
to make of the man in it. And if he’s supposed to give me some sort of clue
about The Hanged Man’s path, I still can’t figure out what that clue might
be.”
Luke leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the
table. “Maybe it was just a situation woven by your subconscious,” he
suggested with a shrug, “and nothing more than that.”
I nodded. “I thought that too at first, but there’s definitely something
about the dream or the guy in the dream that just makes it seem… well,
much more real, for lack of a better word.”
 “If it is something important, whatever it is could simply be revealing
itself in stages.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He leaned forward. “Well, the dream with The Empress might have
been a singular visit so she could direct you to the key that unlocked The
Hanged Man’s door.”
“Okay.”
“These dreams of the man in the garden might be more subtle, and
perhaps you’ll just have to continue experiencing them in order to learn the
lesson they’re trying to teach you.”
I frowned, remembering the frustratingly vague dreams. “Even the
dream with The Empress didn’t offer me much. Just a key to a door that
opened an empty room, which then led me to a hallway that brought me
right back into the dining room. And after that stupid adventure, I can’t say
I’m any better off. I still have no idea what I’m supposed to be learning or
uncovering or what the lesson is.”
“Trust the process, Kate,” Luke insisted, his voice soothing and
reassuring. “There must be a meaning there that you aren’t seeing just yet.
Give it more time.”
“Fine,” I conceded with a small smile. “I’ll try to be more patient. But
if the next dream leads me to a locked broom closet, I might start to lose my
cool.”
Luke chuckled, his laughter easing the tension between us. “Fair
enough,” he agreed, raising his wine glass for a toast. “To unlocking the
mysteries of your dreams—and hopefully, avoiding any broom closets
along the way.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I answered with a smile. Then I took a sip of my
wine and thought about what he’d just said. “I hope you’re right,” I added.
“I just feel like I’m stuck with a bunch of puzzle pieces and no idea what
the picture of the whole puzzle is supposed to be… It’s almost impossible to
figure out.”
Luke reached across the table and took my hand, stopping my nervous
fidgeting. The moment his skin touched mine, I felt a wave of calm washing
over me, soothing my anxious thoughts. I looked up at him, surprised by the
sudden change in my emotional state.
“How do you do that?” I asked, my voice steadier than before.
 He raised an eyebrow, like he had no idea what I was talking about.
“Do what?”
“Whenever you touch me, I immediately calm down. It’s like my brain
just stops freaking out, and I can breathe again.”
“Ah,” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s
just part of my magician abilities, I guess you could say.” He gave my hand
a gentle squeeze before letting go, leaving me feeling strangely bereft.
“How are your sore muscles doing by the way?”
At the memory of his massage, I swallowed hard, thinking back to how
the situation between us had gotten a little more physical than it ever had
before. Heat crept into my cheeks, and I tried to form a coherent response.
“Yes, I’m feeling much better, thanks.”
“Good,” Luke said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can I tell you
something?”
“Sure.” The intensity in his gaze suddenly intrigued me as much as it
unnerved me.
“I enjoyed touching you,” he confessed softly, his words sending
another shiver down my spine. “And taking your pain away from you.”
I swallowed hard. I was pretty sure he was flirting with me, but it had
been so long since a man had flirted with me that I didn’t know how to
react. If I’d been my mother, I would have just crawled into his lap and
played tonsil hockey with him for the next hour or so. But I wasn’t my
mother. “Um, well, I appreciate… you… you know, being so thoughtful,” I
stammered, and I was sure my face turned every shade of red.
He leaned in slightly, his voice low and intimate. “It wasn’t just me
being thoughtful. I wanted to touch you, Kate.” The look in his eyes was
suddenly heavy—charged, and full of something I hadn’t ever seen there
before. “And I still do.”
I swallowed hard again, my heart racing in my chest. But before I
could find the right words to respond, my phone buzzed on the table and the
screen lit up with a text from my mother. I grabbed it and gave Luke an
apologetic smile. “Do you mind if I text her back really quickly? It’s my
mom and she literally will not leave me alone until I respond.”
He chuckled and finished his glass of wine, leaning back into his seat
once more. “Of course I don’t mind.”
“Thanks,” I said as I read the text: Kate, what is Magnus’s phone
number?
 “Everything okay?” Luke asked. “Your whole expression just
changed.”
I looked up at him, shaking my head in disbelief. “My mother just
asked me for Magnus’s phone number!”
Luke already was aware that my mother had moved nearby. As soon as
she’d called a couple weeks ago to tell me she was doing just that, I’d
immediately called Luke. And in his special Luke manner, he’d calmed me
down, telling me to be careful not to spill anything about my new and
mystical life and assured me that the rest would work itself out.
“Does Magnus even have a phone?”
I looked at him, my eyebrows drawn. “I don’t think Magnus even
knows what a phone is.”
“Right,” Luke said with a knowing smile. “How’s it going with your
mom anyway?”
“You mean, aside from the fact that she has the hots for Magnus?” I
couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of it.
Luke laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can see why any
hot-blooded woman would find him attractive—he’s a very manly guy.” I
gave him a raised brow expression. He laughed again but the laugh died on
his lips and the gaze he gave me was suddenly searching. “What about you,
Kate?”
“What about me?”
He shrugged. “Are you attracted to him?”
“Absolutely not!” I was affronted just by the suggestion. Luke’s
expression brightened, and I could tell he was relieved by my answer—
something which made butterflies start up in my stomach.
“All right, well, I need to text her back before she starts bombarding
me with more messages and possibly even calls,” I said, looking down at
my phone again in order to fire off a quick reply: Magnus doesn’t have a
cell phone.
Then I looked back up at Luke and gave him a quick smile, which
meant to say—okay, Mom’s taken care of.
“So?” he asked.
“So,” I answered.
“Was what I told you earlier… too much?” he asked as he motioned to
the waiter for another glass of wine. He looked at me and said, “Would you
like another?”
 I glanced first at him and then at the waiter and shook my head. Then,
turning my attention back to Luke, I answered, “No, it wasn’t too much.”
“Good, then what do you think about it?”
I wasn’t used to someone being so direct about this sort of thing—well,
honestly, I wasn’t used to anything when it came to flirting and dating and
letting it be known when you had a crush on someone. Hmm, did this mean
Luke had a crush on me? I definitely had one on him. At that thought, I
found myself starting to fidget all over again. “Well… um, is it frowned on
for people like us to… you know, date?”
“People like us?”
“I mean…” I cleared my throat as I searched for the right words. “I’m
referring to the situation with Ezra and also my training to become a
Daughter of the Moon and all that’s involved with it?”
He looked puzzled for a second, as though he didn’t understand what I
was getting at. Before I could explain further though, my phone buzzed
again with another text from my mother.
Do you and Magnus want to come over for dinner tonight?
Already had dinner, Mom, I texted back.
I looked at Luke again. “Anyway, what I meant was, would it pose a
problem for us to be… you know, dating or doing things together or
whatever?”
“Kate, we’re free to do whatever we want,” Luke replied gently, a
smile pulling at his lips like he was trying to explain the ways of the world
to a naïve teenager. “We’re both adults.”
“Right…” I couldn’t help feeling like an idiot and having my mom
texting me nonstop about Magnus wasn’t helping matters. As soon as the
thought occurred to me, my phone lit up with another text.
What about dessert?
“She’s relentless,” I whispered mostly to myself. Then something else
suddenly occurred to me and I stopped typing out my response to look up at
Luke. “Did you ever date Artemis?” The words slipped out before I could
stop them, and I immediately felt my cheeks flushing with embarrassment
because I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know the answer.
Luke laughed again, not unkindly. “You mean when she was younger,
I’m assuming?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
 He gave me a strange look. “No, I was never attracted to her in that
way. We were only ever partners and friends. Nothing more.”
I opened my mouth to respond when the telltale buzz of another text
message interrupted me. Rolling my eyes, I mouthed “Sorry” to Luke and
read my mom’s latest missive: I’d love to come over tonight and see your
place. Maybe you can put in a good word for me to Magnus? Unless, of
course, you’re interested in him?
“Ugh, my mother is driving me absolutely nuts,” I complained, shaking
my head as I quickly typed out a reply: Tonight’s not good, Mom. And no, I
don’t have any interest in Magnus. We’re just friends.
Well, we weren’t even really that, but it was the easiest way to explain
my lack of amorous feelings towards him.
“Maybe you should be happy for her?” Luke suggested.
I looked up at him and frowned. “Happy for her?” I repeated as he
nodded, and I shook my head. “I’m fairly sure Magnus doesn’t even know
she exists.”
“Well, maybe you could change that,” Luke persisted, leaning back in
his chair again as he regarded me with obvious amusement.
“I really don’t want to play matchmaker between my mom and my
bodyguard,” I said, thinking to myself that that was a sentence I’d never
imagined I’d say.
###
I awoke with a start, sitting straight up in my bed, which was still
enveloped in darkness.
Then I realized I wasn’t awake at all—I was asleep still—and my body
lay beneath me—separate from my consciousness, just like the night before.
Feeling as if I were having another astral projection, I raised myself up
from my bed, and for a moment, didn’t know where I was. A second or so
later, I recognized the familiar surroundings of my bedroom.
As my senses slowly adjusted to the darkness, I became aware of a
presence lurking in the shadows at the far end of the room. My skin
prickled, and a shiver of unease ran down my spine as I strained my eyes to
see a figure standing there. Whoever it was, they were watching me with an
intensity that chilled me.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, my voice shaking slightly despite my
feeble attempt at bravery.
 Stepping out of the darkness with effortless grace, I immediately
recognized the shape of Gray when he emerged into the faint moonlight
filtering through the curtains. His features were obliterated by a shadow,
adding an air of mystery to his already enigmatic presence.
“Gray,” I started to say, shaking my head. “How are you here—I mean,
outside of the garden?”
Our eyes locked, and a playful smirk tugged the corners of his lips. He
didn’t say anything, but stared at me in a way that should have been off-
putting (because it was so blatantly admiring) and yet… it wasn’t.
“I must admit, I’m quite pleased to have a name again.”
“What are you doing in my bedroom?” I demanded, trying to sound
indignant while secretly savoring the thrill of the fact that he was here.
“My beautiful Kate,” he responded, his voice smooth, rich, heady and
intoxicating. “You brought me here, not the other way around.”
“How could I have done that?”
He gave me a suggestive smile. “One thing I know about the garden is
this: I can’t free myself from it.”
“But…” I didn’t know how I could have possibly freed him—it made
no sense to me.
“Perhaps the question you should be asking yourself is why did you
bring me here?”
My cheeks flushed, and I struggled to find a retort. There was
something about this man that both intrigued and unnerved me—there was
just something that was off-putting about him (mainly because I knew
nothing about him and didn’t trust him) and yet, there was something
exhilarating about him also. Yes, he was incredibly handsome, but it was
more than that. There was just this undercurrent of blazing sexuality
between us that I had a difficult time understanding.
“If I’m responsible for bringing you here,” I started after a deep breath,
“then I believe there’s something I’m supposed to learn from you.”
His eyes never left mine. “And what do you believe I’m supposed to
teach you?” he asked as he came closer.
I hesitated, weighing his question. The truth was, I didn’t know. And
because I didn’t know, I couldn’t answer. Instead, I climbed out of bed,
suddenly becoming very aware of my attire—or lack thereof. Instead of my
usual long john pajamas, I was wearing a gauzy, white nightdress that left
little to the imagination.
 “My goodness,” he said as he perused me, and my cheeks burned with
embarrassment. I shot him an accusatory glare.
“Why am I dressed like this?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, his amusement dancing in his eyes. “This is
your dream, so I should imagine you should ask that question of yourself?”
I didn’t respond, but only watched him as he took another step towards me.
“But if I were to guess, I would assume you’ve dressed your dreaming self
in such a way because I bring out your inner desire, Kate.”
The audacity of his statement made me frown, but I couldn’t deny the
truth of it. I also couldn’t deny the inexplicable chemistry between us. Each
word we exchanged seemed like a playful dance, as if we were caught in
each other’s orbit, and neither one of us was able to break free.
“Desire?” I scoffed because I felt like it was the right answer to give.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You can’t deny the connection that exists between us,” he said, his
voice low and enticing. “And I must say, I’m quite pleased you brought me
here.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I have wanted nothing more than a break from that
garden,” he said, now standing only inches away from me. My heart was
racing. “Tell me, my beauty, do you suppose I can touch you in this dream
of yours?” His voice was now just a whisper. “Or would my fingers simply
pass through you as if I were a ghost?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly, swallowing hard as I tried to
maintain my composure.
“Would you like to find out?” His devilish smile sent shivers through
me as he raised his index finger, aiming it just above my cheek.
I knew I should have said ‘no’, but the truth was, I wanted nothing
more than to feel his touch. And I was angry with myself because I didn’t
know what this man wanted from me, or why he kept appearing in my
dreams without offering me anything of value, just more riddles. Maybe I
was meant to deny him? Maybe this whole lesson was one about teaching
me not to succumb to my desires? But, somehow, that didn’t seem right.
It seemed he could read my thoughts because his smile widened as he
took the final step that separated us until his nose was only millimeters
away from mine.
“Ask me to touch you.”
 I wanted to shake my head or respond in the negative, but I couldn’t do
either. Instead, my mouth opened as my voice whispered, “Touch me.” My
tone was barely audible, but it must have come across loud and clear,
because he brought his finger up to my temple.
The warmth of his skin against mine was soothing, and I instinctively
closed my eyes as my lips parted in a silent gasp. His touch was a slow
burn, tracing a path from my cheek to my chin, then down to my
collarbone. My breath caught in my throat as his finger continued its
journey, stopping at the seam of my nightgown, where it dipped between
my breasts.
“Where shall I touch you next?” he murmured, and his words seemed
to dance across my cheeks. I didn’t dare open my eyes; I was afraid to see
the intensity of his gaze. But I could feel him so close to me, his breath
mingling with mine, and the need I felt within me was burning—no, it was
raging.
“Kiss me,” I sighed, my heart pounding wildly in my chest at my
boldness. I felt the heat radiating from his body as he came even closer,
until our lips were almost touching. Suddenly, an icy cold wind swept
between us—something that seemed to create a draft throughout the entire
room.
Opening my eyes, I saw what appeared to be a cloud of darkness
suddenly bearing down, engulfing us in its chilly embrace. The hair on the
back of my neck stood on end as I watched a creature beginning to emerge
from the depths of the shadow, its form shifting and writhing like a living
being. It was completely devoid of form, only an ever-shifting mass of inky
blackness that seemed to absorb any light around it.
Its shape was nebulous and indistinct, twisting and contorting with a
strange fluidity as it moved. Long tendrils of darkness writhed and coiled
from it as if they were serpents, while gleaming eyes, cold and soulless,
flickered from the darkness, the only brightness in the otherwise dark
gloom.
No sound accompanied the entity’s movement, nothing except a faint
whisper of dread that seemed to emanate from its core. Even as I could see
it floating all around us, it seemed to merge seamlessly with the dark,
disappearing into the inky blackness of my bedroom before making itself
known again. It moved with an eerie grace, gliding through the darkness
like a silent predator.
 Gray tensed beside me, his eyes narrowing as the creature encircled
him, as though it were trying to discern his identity. It fixed its glowing
eyes on him with an unsettling intensity, and then, with a menacing hiss, it
vanished through my bedroom door—ostensibly into the hallway beyond.
“We need to follow it,” Gray said, his tone of voice sounding very
determined.
“Follow it?” I repeated. “Are you insane?”
He didn’t respond but tore out of my room into the dark hallway. With
no other choice, I trailed him into the hallway and raced to the end of the
hall. I watched as the shadow creature disappeared up the spiral staircase,
but Gray was right behind it, so I followed him up the stairs leading to the
third floor. With each step, my apprehension grew, but so did my
determination to understand what the shadow creature was and find out
what it was after. Maybe this was the clue I’d been waiting for?
I paused at the hallway and watched as the shadow entity melted into
the room of The Hanged Man. Gray was quick to follow, throwing open the
door, with me right behind him. He hurried across the floor and flung the
door open on the other side of the room, only to watch the shadow swiftly
disappear down a staircase.
He growled then, his frustration evident in his voice as he took off after
it, and I went right after him. We raced down the staircase behind The
Hanged Man’s room until we entered the hallway. The shadow creature
paused momentarily, almost as if it were sniffing the air for a sign of its
prey, then it tore down the hallway, heading towards the bricked-in wall.
Gray darted after it and I followed immediately after him. Both of us
watched when the creature reached the bricked-in wall at the end of the
hallway. It paused there for a moment or two; then it simply vanished
straight into the bricks.
Gray started forward, as if he too, were going to disappear into the
brick wall and before I could follow him, my body suddenly jolted awake, a
scream lodged in my throat.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I sat up in my bed, drenched in a cold sweat, my heart racing like it was
ready to burst from my chest at any second.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down, then I tried to
remind myself that everything I’d just experienced had only happened in
my mind—that none of it was real. But was I correct? I mean, yes,
everything had clearly taken place in my mind, but damn, it had felt so real,
and seemed so vivid. Slowly, I tried to process the images that continued to
flash through my head—a man I’d named ‘Gray’, the shadowy creature, the
brick wall—all the thoughts left me with the feeling that I was meant to
learn something from this dream.
As soon as that thought occurred to me, a letter floated down from the
canopy right above my bed. The letter landed like a feather in my lap, and I
immediately recognized the handwriting scrolled across the front as
belonging to Artemis. The handwriting read: Catherine.
“Finally!” I whispered, snatching the letter as I flipped it over and
recognized Artemis’s wax seal on the back. “It’s about freaking time,” I
added as I tore open the envelope and began to read.
Dearest Catherine, the letter began (by this time, I’d completely given
up any hope that my aunt would ever address me as ‘Kate’ but some fights
weren’t worth the effort): First and foremost, I must apologize for my lack
of communication. I promise you that I did have my reasons. While I needed
to hold your hand on the journey you took as The Fool, this particular
adventure requires you to stand on your own two feet. The journey of The
Hanged Man is a voyage of self-discovery.
I didn’t know how to feel about that—in general, I didn’t like the idea
that I was on my own with any part of this Daughter of the Moon business,
but it was what it was.
However, the letter continued, now that you’ve walked this far on the
path of The Hanged Man, I do want to offer you one bit of advice. And my
advice is this: from this point forward, you know what you need to do,
Catherine. You need to look inward for your answers, because you already
know what they are.
I paused, then I looked up and frowned, shaking my head. “What kind
of stupid advice is that, Artemis?” I demanded, glaring at her letter and
feeling nothing but annoyance snaking through me. As I watched, I found
the letter writing itself in real time.
Yes, you know what you need to do, it read.
Then I started to get angry as I shook my head and glowered at the air
around me, as if I were expecting my aunt’s ghost to simply pop into the
ether and appear to me. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! That’s the
whole problem with this stupid lesson I’m expected to learn! None of this
makes any damned sense to me at all!”
Almost in response, an image of the brick wall behind The Hanged
Man’s room flashed into my head, the same one into which the shadow
creature had disappeared in my dream the night before. I glanced down at
the letter again and noticed that more ink was beginning to bleed through
the page.
You know what you need to do, Artemis repeated and before I could
start tearing my hair out, the answer suddenly occurred to me.
“I need to break the wall down,” I said as soon as the realization hit
me.
You need to break the wall down, the letter confirmed, still writing the
words in real time.
“Why?” I asked. “What’s behind the wall?”
That’s for you to discover, the letter responded. And remember, the path
may be difficult from here on out, but it’s your path and one that you must
walk alone, Catherine.
“Alone?” I repeated, disliking the sound of that intensely.
Alone, the letter confirmed. Embrace the journey, and invest more trust
in your own abilities. You, alone, need to take this next step because it is
your lesson to learn—no one else’s.
I took a deep breath, my chest tightening at the weight of the words
that Aunt Artemis had just revealed. I needed to do this alone—but what did
that mean? Was I meant to break down the brick wall and face whatever
might be behind it all alone? Was that the answer? The more I thought
about it, the more that answer started to make sense—I mean, why was
there a bricked-in wall there to begin with? And why was it located at the
end of a hallway that seemed to lead nowhere?
Okay, so take the brick wall down. But there was one problem with that
plan—Magnus. Why? Because ‘Magnus’ and ‘Kate doing anything alone’
didn’t belong in the same sentence.
 I glanced down at the letter again when more ink appeared on the page.
Walk the path of The Hanged Man alone, Catherine. It is your destiny
and also the way things must be.
How could I possibly keep Magnus from following me though? We
were like Siamese twins, perpetually joined at the hip—he was my constant
and super annoying shadow.
That was when the answer came to me.
“Mom!” I whispered, my heart quickening at the idea. If there was one
person who could keep Magnus occupied for a little while, it was Mom and
her ceaseless quest to seduce him. I couldn’t help smiling at the absolute
genius of my newly hatched plan.
When I noticed more ink bleeding through Artemis’s letter, I glanced
down and read: You are almost at the crux of the lesson, Catherine—the
point where all of this will come together and make perfect sense. Stay
strong and don’t give up the journey now. There is a junction of crossroads
that you will soon face and the decision you make will determine not only
your future, but everyone else’s.
“Great! As if that weren’t enough to make me panic,” I groaned as I
shook my head and watched the letter end with Artemis’s familiar, loopy
signature.
“Thanks, Artemis, for basically answering nothing,” I said out loud,
folding the letter and tucking it into my nightstand. Then I took a deep
breath and tried not freak the fuck out.
###
The doorbell chimed with its usual high-pitched cacophony, and I
rushed to open it.
“Hi, Mom,” I greeted her as she sauntered in. A Best Buy bag dangled
from one of her arms and a leopard-print purse hung on the other.
“Katie,” she said as she leaned in, planting a kiss on both of my cheeks
like she thought she was a European socialite. Usually, that would have
bugged me, but at this particular moment, I felt happier to see my mom than
I’d ever felt before. And I was grateful to see that she’d actually bothered to
get dressed for the occasion, even if her outfit screamed Peg Bundy from
‘Married with Children’. The skin-tight, black Lycra leggings, and wide belt
cinching her waist, were topped by a fuchsia pink blouse that she’d
purposely left unbuttoned almost to her navel. She was wearing a black,
lace bra underneath it—I knew as much because I could easily see her bra
peeking out from the plunging neckline. Her cleavage was sitting so high, I
could have easily balanced a soda can on it. The matching fuchsia stilettos
had to be at least five inches high, and she wobbled unsteadily on them as
she took a few steps and walked into the entryway.
She turned her attention to the interior of the castle, and her eyes grew
as wide as saucers. “Wow,” she gasped before blinking a few times. She
looked like she’d suddenly developed a nervous tic, and her exceptionally
long, fake lashes clumped together. “What is this place?”
She took another step and nearly rolled her ankle before springing an
arm out to steady herself as she then clung to me. “Jesus, Mom, why don’t
you take those horrible things off?”
“Because they lengthen my legs and make me look skinnier,” she
answered and I had to wonder how high heels would make her look
skinnier. She shook her head as she continued taking in the entirety of the
castle. “This place is nuts.”
“That’s one way to put it.” I hesitated to show her more, thinking back
to my plan to have Luke enchant the castle so it would look like any other
house. But after my dream last night, I didn’t have time to bother Luke.
Instead, I’d decided it no longer mattered if Mom realized Artemis lived in
a castle—she already knew her sister was eccentric, so this would just be
more icing on the cake.
Mom stepped further into the vestibule, wobbling again slightly, and I
stayed close by in case she lost her equilibrium and did a full face-plant.
She, meanwhile, was busily examining everything around her with a
mixture of awe, shock, confusion and slight disgust. After another few
seconds, she turned to me with a frown.
“It looks like—”
“—The tarot and King Arthur had a baby, I know,” I interrupted, saving
her the trouble of finding the right words. She just nodded, still wrestling
with her attempt to take it all in. And that reaction was fully understandable.
When I’d first walked into the place, I was also struck speechless. There
was so much to see that your eyes grappled with what to focus on first.
“I had no idea my sister’s taste was so... bad,” she finished as she
shook her head.
“It’s pretty bad,” I agreed.
 Just then, I heard the sound of hooves clomping over the hardwood
floors and I turned to watch Rocco as he walked up to us.
“Whaddya doin’ with this broad?” he asked as he looked up at Mom
and she looked down at him, her eyes going even wider than before, which
didn’t seem possible. “She handicapped or somethin’? Why she hangin’ on
ya like that, boss?”
At the sound of his voice, I immediately tensed as I wondered how
many times I’d told him not to say a word when Mom got here? Clearly,
he’d not only forgotten our conversation (or he wasn’t paying any attention
to me in the first place) but he’d also forgotten that she was even coming
today!
“Kate, when did you decide to get a pet goat?” Mom asked innocently.
But by the fact that she didn’t say anything about the way said goat
sounded, which was just like Tony Soprano, I figured she couldn’t
understand him. And thank God for small mercies!
“I inherited him,” I replied. “He came with the castle.”
She eyed Rocco warily, clutching her Best Buy bag to her chest like
she thought he might try to eat it. And, actually, he might have done just
that.
“His name is Rocco,” I continued, trying my hardest to sound casual.
“Is he going to... butt me?” Mom asked, eyeing Rocco’s horns with
clear apprehension.
“Only if ya like that sorta thing, fruitcake,” Rocco muttered. I held my
breath as I searched her face for a reaction to his words, but I saw nothing.
Yep, she obviously couldn’t understand him.
One thing I had been sure to do before Mom arrived was hide Yolanda.
While I could have explained a pet goat, I figured I’d have a much harder
time explaining why I was in possession of a shrunken head. And although
Mom couldn’t seem to understand Rocco, I wasn’t sure I’d be so lucky with
Yolanda. I mean, she had been a human once upon a time…
That was the problem with all this magic stuff—I still didn’t know the
rules so I had no idea what regular people could see and understand and
what they couldn’t. Since I’d decided it was better to be safe than sorry, I’d
carefully placed Yolanda inside one of the teapots on top of the kitchen
cabinets. But after hearing her complaints through the ceramic, I’d taken
her, teapot and all, and hidden her inside my closet. But because Magnus
had bashed the closet doors into kindling the first time he’d appeared in my
bedroom, I threw a pile of clothes on top of the teapot until I couldn’t hear
Yolanda’s shrill voice at all.
“Where’s Magnus?” Mom asked, moving to her most important
business of the day, now that she’d wholly appraised her sister’s insane
castle. She looked around herself, like she half expected him to pop out of
the coat closet.
“Kitchen,” I said, leading her from the entryway and further inside the
house. Once we hit the kitchen, there was Magnus. He was sitting at the
counter, devouring an entire box of Frosted Flakes in record time.
As soon as Mom saw him, she lit up like a Christmas tree. A huge
smile appeared on her bright red lips, and I also noticed there was also red
lipstick on her teeth, but I figured what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Seeing the barbarian, who was barely clad in his warrior skirt with the
leather holster that he wore suspended over one shoulder and arm, she
sashayed over to him, nearly falling down twice in the process.
“Magnus, we meet again,” she purred as she took a seat on the stool
beside him. Thinking better of it, she then stood up and scooted her stool
even closer to his, flirtatiously batting her eyelashes at him, which looked
more like Venus fly traps. He responded by looking over at her and
grunting.
“Oh, my goodness,” she sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t
believe he was really sitting there, albeit eating me out of house and home.
“And look how you’re dressed this morning—just like the warrior you
claim to be,” she finished, rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.
“I am a warrior,” the ape responded.
“Of course you are, you big beast of a man,” Mom warbled as she took
another long stare at him, mentally undressing him from head to toe. She
paused at the weird skirt or kilt that he was wearing, looking like she was
imagining the weapon beneath it. “It’s almost better than seeing you sans
any clothing at all.”
He grunted something in response before lifting his bowl and gulping
down the rest of his cereal and milk.
“I brought you a gift,” Mom continued to croon at him. Then she
reached out and ran her excessively long and pointed, bright red fingernails
down his chest. To my horror, she even started palming both of his man
boobs. I wasn’t even sure he noticed.
 Mom plopped the Best Buy bag on the counter and rifled through it,
pulling out a box that, after closer inspection, appeared to be a brand new
cell phone. “Kate mentioned that you didn’t have your own phone, so I got
you an iPhone.”
“Mom,” I started, knowing how expensive iPhones were and how
Magnus wouldn’t understand the first thing about how to use one.
But Mom shook her head at me before she focused all her attention on
him again. “Now I can reach you whenever I want to. And you can reach
me too, of course.” She grinned at him, but he simply stared at the box with
a vacant expression. She pushed it toward him until he was forced to pick it
up.
“What is it?” he inquired as he held the box up like she’d just given
him Pinhead’s Rubik’s Cube.
“It’s a cell phone, silly,” she answered with a small, nervous giggle,
like she was starting to worry that maybe he really was all brawn and no
brains.
“What does it do?” Magnus asked, looking genuinely puzzled as he
frowned at the thing and even shook it a few times.
“Wh-what does it do?” Mom sputtered, her eyes going wide with
disbelief as she shook her head and looked at me, as if seeking my help.
“It’s a mobile phone!”
I jumped in then because I realized I needed to explain why Magnus
had no idea what a cell phone was. “Magnus is more of an Android guy,
Mom, so you’ll have to explain to him how to use an iPhone.”
“Oh,” Mom replied before she nodded as if that made all the sense in
the world.
“And, um, he’s not very technologically savvy to begin with,” I
continued. “So make sure you review every step with him very slowly—
including how to turn it on.”
“Oh, sure… no problem,” she answered. Then she immediately took
the box from him and launched into a detailed explanation of all the
features and functions of the device. She rotated the box in her hands and
Magnus reacted as if she were speaking another language, looking up at her
with a dumb expression. Yep, Mom was the perfect solution to getting some
quiet time to myself…
As I listened to her excited chatter and Magnus’s much less excited
grunts, I thought about the brick wall behind The Hanged Man’s room. I
needed to bust through it like yesterday. In response, I shoved my hand into
my pocket, feeling the shape of the key that would unlock The Hanged
Man’s door and lead me to my appointed task. Time was rapidly ticking
away, and I needed to get a move on ASAP.
“Mom,” I said, pulling her attention away from Magnus, “I have to get
some writing done, because I still owe Janice the final three chapters and
she’s getting impatient.”
“Sure, that’s fine—you go and do whatever you need to,” she said,
waving me away with an unconcerned hand. Then she returned her attention
to the barbarian sitting beside her—the one who had absolutely zero interest
in his new iPhone.
Rocco unexpectedly sauntered up to me at that moment. “Yo, I’m
hungry.”
I glanced down at him and shook my head before looking up at my
mom again. “I need to get back to work, so could you, uh… could you also
make Rocco something to eat while you’re helping Magnus learn how to
use his new phone?”
Mom gave me a quick frown, that told me she was clearly annoyed by
that request. “Rocco?”
“You know, my pet goat.”
She looked over at the goat with a pronounced frown as he bleated
back at her. “Yeah, that’s right, liver lips, I’m freakin’ starvin’ ova ‘ere.”
“What does it eat?” she asked with very little interest.
“It?” Rocco nearly choked, glaring from her to me—as if she was my
fault. I started to tell him to calm down but quickly remembered that it
wouldn’t make much sense to my mom. Not that I had the chance to even
speak because Rocco had already returned his attention to my mom and was
now bleating his protest in earnest. “I ain’t no ‘it’, rubber neck!”
“Why does it keep making that awful sound?” Mom asked me, shaking
her head as I shook my head at Rocco, because it was true—he was making
an awful sound. It was this infernal bleating noise as his tongue flapped out
of his mouth and his nostrils flared. He actually looked like he was having a
seizure or something and his tongue was flapping outside of his mouth like
a fish out of water. A deep rumble emanated from his throat, building into a
crescendo of loud, guttural bleats that echoed throughout the kitchen. With
each thunderous scream, he thrashed his head wildly from side to side, and
the muscles in his neck bulged until he looked like he might explode.
 “He’s very hungry,” I answered with a shrug.
“What does it eat?” Mom asked again, this time throwing a hand on her
hip to illlustrate her impatience.
“He, Mom,” I corrected her. “And he likes spaghetti with meat sauce.”
“Spaghetti with meat sauce?” she repeated, her frown becoming even
more pronounced. “I don’t know much about goats but I’m pretty sure they
aren’t supposed to eat that?”
I turned to look at Rocco, who was still flapping his gums and his
tongue. He was also bobbing his head up and down like he was wrestling
with whatever demon was in the process of possessing him and the demon
appeared to be winning. “Does that look like a normal goat to you?”
“Fine.” Mom replied, turning her attention back to Magnus as she
picked up the iPhone box and pushed it in Magnus’s direction once more.
As I slipped away quietly, I told her, “Take your time with Magnus.”
Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she ran her hands up and down his
chest again. “Oh, I intend to.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I stood before the imposing brick wall, flexing my hands inside my
heavy-duty gloves as I surveyed the formidable obstacle before me.
It was a daunting sight, sure, I couldn’t deny that, and I didn’t know the
first thing about demolition, but I wasn’t about to let anything keep me from
the job I had to do. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t have much more
time to do it. I mean, who knew how long Mom could keep Magnus’s
attention before he realized his ward was nowhere to be seen? So, with a
deep breath, I grasped the handle of the sledgehammer I’d found in
Artemis’s shed out back. With the substantial weight in my hands, I doubted
whether or not I could even lift the damn thing above my elbows.
You can do this, Kate, I told myself as, squaring my shoulders, I
positioned myself, ready to embark on the task that awaited me. Hopefully,
the wall would come down swiftly and relatively easily so I could finally
shed some light on the lesson I needed to learn about The Hanged Man.
Time to show this wall who’s boss, I told myself, trying to amp my
courage up.
With a resounding thud, I managed to swing the sledgehammer at
elbow level and sort of thwack it directly into the side of the wall. A series
of shockwaves immediately reverberated up my arms and went as high as
my head, making my teeth chatter. I looked at the wall and frowned because
I hadn’t even put a dent in the brick.
“Are you serious?” I groaned.
I lifted the stupid sledgehammer again and this time hefted it up to the
level of my ears. Then I brought it down in an arc, smashing it against the
wall just as a horrible pain shot out from my ribs, making me bend over
while I tried to catch my breath. As a result of the hammer touching the
brick, a cloud of dust and debris erupted from the impact, filling the air with
a gritty haze that wasn’t fun to inhale. I coughed, feeling like I’d shanked
myself in the ribs, as I attempted to wave away all the dust. After a few
more seconds, my side cramp faded into a more manageable dull ache, so I
stood up to examine my handiwork.
Again, I’d barely made a scratch in the brick.
“Really?” I grumbled, shaking my head. Taking down a brick wall was
a whole lot harder than I’d thought it would be.
 But I wasn’t going to stop now. So, again, I held the sledgehammer in
my hand, hoisting it up as high as my nose this time before I slammed it
into the bricks with all my strength. I was also careful not to shift my body
to the side like I had before, thereby avoiding any more paralyzing side
cramps.
The brick beneath the hammer responded to my assault by barely
shedding one corner, even though some of the mortar did crumble. I
reached out and ran my hand across it, separating some of the brick face,
which then fell to the ground.
By the fourth strike, sweat was beading on my forehead, and my
muscles were physically straining to heft the weight of the hammer. The
voice of my inner construction worker was yelling at me to quit. But, no,
where there was a will there had to be a damned way. And I was going to
find a way to take the damned wall down, even if it turned out to be the last
thing I ever did.
After my fifth wallop, one stubborn brick crumbled enough that I was
able to yank the remnants of it out of the wall. With a triumphant grunt, I
dropped the pieces to the ground as I stood back to observe my grand
achievement.
Yep, I’d managed to remove one brick. And it only took me like… ten
minutes.
“Son of bitch sucks at knocking down wall,” I grumbled to myself,
suddenly wishing I had Magnus’s brawn to help me. But, no, I had to do
this crap all on my own.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I peered through the gap, but only
glimpsed more darkness beyond. But that wasn’t exactly surprising—I was
in the middle of the castle with no windows so what did I expect to find?
Right.
Get back to work, I commanded myself.
After another twenty minutes, I’d managed to barely remove three
more bricks. Needing a break (mainly because my shoulders had basically
gone on strike and the rest of the muscles in my arms were more than ready
to join the picket line), I stepped back to survey the growing hole in the
wall as I fought to catch my breath. Well, the hole wasn’t very large. I
couldn’t really even call it a hole because it looked more like one of those
shapes in Tetris. And when I tried to see what was on the other side, I got
the same view as before—totally pitch blackness.
 Good times.
Glancing at my watch, I realized that plenty of time had passed for
Magnus to start wondering where I was. And that was the last thing I
wanted him to do.
“All right, wall,” I muttered with disdain, setting the sledgehammer
down as I took another deep breath and tried to stave off the sheer
disappointment that was already overtaking me. I felt defeated, especially
because I’d originally thought I’d be able to bash the wall down in thirty
minutes or less. Clearly, I knew nothing. “We’ll continue this dance again
very soon.”
As to why I was talking to an inanimate brick wall? I didn’t want to
answer that question.
Regardless, I hurried back up the stairs that led to the third floor
hallway, locking the door to The Hanged Man’s room just to make sure no
one would suspect what I’d been doing. Stopping in my room so I could see
my reflection, I quickly dusted myself off before I returned to the living
room.
There I found Magnus sitting on an armchair near the enormous
fireplace. To my happy surprise, it appeared that he was entirely engrossed
in his new cell phone, no doubt, struggling to comprehend all the intricacies
of modern technology. I could hear my mother’s voice coming from the
speaker and when I walked into the kitchen, I found her standing there with
her own phone pressed to her ear.
“Okay, Magnus, do you understand how to answer your phone now?”
she asked him.
“Yes, I do,” came his voice through the speaker.
“Okay, now why don’t you try to call me?”
“Yes, I will.”
With that, my mom hung up her phone and gave me a big smile. “He
seems to be getting it,” she said as she waited, ostensibly for Magnus to call
her back. But as the seconds ticked by, the call never came.
“Apparently, he knows how to answer his phone, but he doesn’t grasp
the concept of how to make a call from it,” I told Mom as she nodded. Then
she rushed out of the kitchen, being careful not to trip over her ridiculous
shoes.
Rocco then trotted up to me, giving me an undeniably cross expression.
“Say, what’s with that broad anyway, huh? She ain’t made me nothin’ ta eat
yet!”
###
The dream garden spread out before me, its vibrant colors bursting
from every flower and leaf. The overhead sun was warm and if I were in a
different state of mind, I might have actually enjoyed this visit. However, I
was here for a specific purpose. As soon as I’d gone to bed, I’d made a clear
intention to my brain that I needed to visit Gray.
And now, here I was—standing in the middle of the garden, waiting for
Gray to appear.
A soft rustling sound caught my attention a split second later, and I
turned to my left to watch Gray come out from behind a tree at a bend in the
flowing expanse of green grass. He smiled as he walked over a small,
wooden bridge that spanned the width of a narrow creek that flowed
between a grove of aspen trees. Their leaves shimmered like gold coins in
the sunlight.
“Kate, how wonderful to see you again,” he said, his broad smile tilting
the corners of his full lips. “Shall I assume that you’ve successfully
conquered your ability to dream lucidly?”
But I wasn’t in the mood for any small talk. No, I wanted answers, and
I was determined to get them. I walked right up to him, my steps just as
determined as my posture and my expression. “Why did you go after
whatever that… that shadow thing was the other night?”
He shrugged, seemingly unfazed by my brusque manner and my
equally abrupt inquiry. “I suppose you could say I simply had a feeling that
I needed to follow it, so I did.”
“What was it?”
Gray shrugged again, shaking his head this time as he continued to
smile at me as if we were having the nicest conversation. “I have no idea
what it might have been, Kate.”
“But?”
He smiled like we were playing some sort of game. “But… I also had
the uncanny feeling that perhaps there was a time when I did know what the
shadow entity could have been…”
“A time in the recent past?”
He chuckled at that. “Yes, that time could only have been in the past,
whether recent or distant, don’t you agree?” I gave him a glare and he held
up his hands in faux submission.
“So, again I’m going to ask you: what was it?”
He shook his head again. “If I ever did possess that knowledge, I’m
afraid I’ve forgotten it all now.”
“How convenient!”
“Whether it’s convenient or not, my beauty, I’m afraid to admit it is the
truth.”
“Stop calling me that.”
He looked at me with one arched brow. “Why? Don’t you agree that
you’re beautiful?”
“I just… find it very annoying.”
He chuckled. “You seem to be in quite a hostile mood this lovely
morning.”
He started walking, and I fell in line beside him, only then glancing
down at myself as I took notice of the way I was dressed because it was
kind of weird. In fact, I was pretty sure I was wearing a soldier’s uniform—
specifically, camouflage fatigues. Gray seemed to notice my outfit at the
same time I did, and he looked down at me with another amused chuckle.
“Yes, I would have to say you’ve taken full control of your dreaming
mind.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I imagine your clothing is an undeniable representation of the
way you must feel towards me.”
I thought about his statement for a second and realized he was probably
right. I was on the offensive where he was concerned, hence my
subconscious mind had attired me like a soldier, heading off to battle.
“I can’t trust you,” I admitted, giving him a quick frown. In return, he
offered me another amused grin.
“Why can’t you trust me, Kate? I trust you.”
“I’ve always been honest with you, so you have no reason not to trust
me.”
He shrugged again. “And I have been honest with you as well.”
I shook my head. “Yet, I still don’t know what you’re after, why you’re
stuck here in this garden, or even your true identity. I still don’t know who
you are.”
“And the sad truth of the matter is: neither do I.”
 We were at a stalemate, as usual, once again. How frustrating. Actually,
it had become well beyond frustrating now.
We walked in silence for a few more seconds until Gray began to nod
as he looked over at me, as if some truth had just dawned on him. “I
understand why you feel the way you do,” he said, his expression sincere.
My jaw was tight as I turned to face him and tried not to notice how…
sexy he suddenly appeared. Like the sexiest guy I’d ever seen. And that was
also far beyond frustrating, because there’s nothing worse than being
irritated with someone while also being turned on by them. “Do you
really?”
He nodded. “While I can’t ease your mind entirely with regard to the
questions I can’t answer, what I will tell you is that…” He took a deep
breath and seemed to be searching for the right words.
“Tell me what?” I prodded him.
“That I feel a level of… concern towards you,” he finished with a
quick nod. “And… well, I daresay I believe I must care about you.”
I looked at him and frowned, trying to read the truth in his eyes if there
were any. But while the man I’d named ‘Gray’ was strikingly handsome, he
also could maintain a very good poker face which meant he was adept at
hiding his true emotions. “How does that help me?”
He cocked his head to the side as he pondered my question. “Well,
based on my feelings towards you, I can only assume that I consider you to
be my friend, so perhaps you should also consider me to be a friend to you.”
“A friend to me?” I snorted with disbelief.
“Why is that so funny?”
I gave him a look. “It’s not funny at all!”
“Then what would you call it?”
“I call it damned annoying!”
“Why does this vex you so?”
“Because I still only have your word about everything! I’ve only had
your word to go on the entire time I’ve known you, which means I still have
no idea if anything that comes out of your mouth is true!”
He cocked his head to the side and remained quiet for a few seconds.
Then he faced me with his brows drawn together. “Are you saying my word
isn’t good enough?”
I frowned at him. “No, it’s not good enough! It’s not qualifiable!”
 He acknowledged my skepticism with a quick nod and an even quicker
sigh. “Well, suffice to say, it’s not just concern that I feel towards you. I
cannot deny my amusement at times and, of course, my obvious attraction.”
Then he stopped talking and frowned, seemingly weighing his thoughts.
“Attraction isn’t exactly the proper word for what I feel, actually.”
“Then what is the proper word?” I found myself asking, something
even more frustrating because I was sure he was changing the subject to get
away from the crux of the matter—that being the fact that I didn’t and
couldn’t trust him.
“It’s more like a feeling of… well, deep desire,” he finished. When he
turned to face me, his eyebrows stretched up so high, they appeared to be
reaching for the sapphire sky. “I will say these feelings come to me as quite
a surprise, Kate, because I haven’t felt anything similar in a very long
time.” He paused. “Actually, I haven’t felt anything in a very long time.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” I snapped, refusing to be distracted
by his pretty words—well, I wasn’t allowing myself to be fully sidelined by
them anyway.
“Was I changing the subject?” I glared at him in response and he
chuckled, appearing taken aback. But now, I was more than sure it was a
fake reaction. “What were we talking about before I so rudely diverted the
flow of our conversation?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “We were discussing what you knew
about that shadow creature.”
“Right, my sincerest apologies for rerouting that riveting
conversation,” Gray conceded, looking slightly sheepish. When he offered
me another winning smile, I felt my own lips responding as they started to
pull up at the corners despite my annoyance. “As for the shadow creature,
there isn’t much more I can say about it, I’m afraid.”
“I asked you to tell me why you followed it.”
“It seemed like the only thing to do at that moment,” he answered
calmly. “It just appeared to me as if the entity, whatever it might have been,
was rather intent on seeking something, didn’t it seem that way to you?”
I clearly remembered the moment when the shadow creature had
appeared and seemed to almost recognize Gray before it had made its swift
escape. And, to his point—yes, it had seemed as if it were looking for
something. I nodded at Gray. “Well? What do you think it was looking for?”
 “I have no idea.” Gray shook his head. “But I couldn’t fight the
impulse and a strange need to follow it—perhaps because I needed to try to
answer your exact question.”
“Were you afraid of it?” I wasn’t sure why I cared about that, but I did.
Gray fell silent for a moment, then he shook his head. “I have a strange
feeling that perhaps I should have been afraid of it, but I must honestly
admit that I was not afraid when I chased it. Instead, I felt rather curious to
find out what it wanted and where it was going. And like I said before, I
also had the uncanny feeling that somehow the creature was familiar to me
—at some point from my distant past.”
I sighed, feeling more confused now than ever. His responses didn’t
provide any clear insight into the motives of the shadow thing or anything
else really. And they also failed to reveal anything about Gray himself—he
remained as much of a mystery to me as he always had been.
“Now, let me ask you something… What did you make of the shadow
thing?” Gray asked as he turned to face me.
I shrugged as I recalled an image of the hideous thing. Almost
immediately, shivers raced all over my body. Just as I had when I’d first
seen the thing, I couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of dread that
started to well up from inside me. One thing I knew for sure was that
whatever that shadow thing represented—it wasn’t good. And the reason it
was inside my house? That couldn’t be good either.
Then the thought that it was somehow familiar to Gray, even if he
didn’t know how or why, well, that was pretty unsettling also.
Gray looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “I clearly
remember when I saw the brick wall and watched the creature disappearing
into it, I felt as if it were beckoning me, calling me and saying that it
wanted me to follow it.”
“Hmm.”
He cocked his head to the side, as if he were remembering the crucial
moment. “Or perhaps whatever lay behind the wall wanted me to follow the
creature—I firmly believe something wanted to make itself known to me.”
My heart thudded in my chest, but I kept my face impassive. I thought
about what I had to do, and was in the process of doing by bringing that
wall down. That meant I’d soon have the answer to that particular question
—what was on the other side of the wall?
 I could have shared as much with Gray—and even told him that I was
taking the wall down—but something held me back from mentioning it.
I just… well, I still didn’t trust him.
“Interesting,” I murmured, focusing on the grassy path beneath our
feet.
Maybe I should tell all of this to Luke, I thought to myself. Maybe if I
told him about the shadow entity and Gray and the wall, he could…
However, a new thought entered my mind immediately warning me that it
wouldn’t be a good idea to tell Luke about it. I mean, Artemis’s letter had
been pretty direct in that I had to walk the path of The Hanged Man entirely
on my own. With that in mind, I decided to keep all of this stuff to myself.
“It’s the strangest thing,” Gray continued, shaking his head. “But I still
feel as if the shadow creature and that brick wall are significant—and they
both somehow feel very... familiar.”
“Like you’ve seen them both before?” I asked, my voice hardly above
a whisper.
“Yes,” he answered with a sigh. “But I’m frustrated because I simply
can’t remember any specific reason why I should feel such undeniable
familiarity.”
Frustrated wasn’t even the right word!

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A single shaft of morning light pierced through the darkness, slipping
through a crack in the curtains and painting a warm line along my bedroom
floor.
I sat up almost as quickly as my dream with Gray ended. Cracking an
eye open, I had to squint at the glowing numbers on my alarm clock. It was
almost six am. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting the early morning
with an ethereal glow that made me happy to be alive. Well, until I
remembered I was a Daughter of the Moon and nothing in my life made
sense anymore.
The first thing—actually, the only thing—on my mind was the brick
wall behind The Hanged Man’s room. I took a deep breath as I swung my
legs over the side of the bed and thought about my renewed determination
to annihilate the damned thing and knock it down. Or, at least, put a hole in
it that was big enough for me to crawl through. Because let’s face it, there
was no way I could manage to take the whole thing down by myself.
But one small, and very formidable problem remained—Magnus!
Actually, Magnus could never be a small problem, he was an enormous
one. And the challenge of how I was going to get past him in order to make
it to the third floor was my next conundrum. Right, it was anyone’s guess as
to how I could accomplish that. Ever since he’d busted through my closet
doors, proclaiming himself to be my guardian, Magnus had made it his
business to always sleep in the hallway right outside my bedroom door. And
because he was a lighter sleeper than I was, getting past him wouldn’t be
easy. But I was bound and determined to overcome that pesky problem.
Snatching my cell phone from where I’d left it charging on my
nightstand, I slipped it into the pocket of my robe. Then I quietly put on my
robe over my cat pajamas. Then, slowly tiptoeing to the door, I cautiously
peered out into the hallway. But there was no sign of Magnus—and that
was, in a word, weird. I figured maybe he must have been answering a call
to nature, so I waited for another five minutes, before I decided that no, he
was just gone. That thought filled my head with a wave of relief that
washed over me like a tsunami and I had to wonder if maybe, just maybe,
today would prove to be my lucky day.
Maybe Galaxy 9 had issued a recall to all of its guardians and he’d
simply disappeared during the night?
 I tiptoed out of my bedroom and sneaked into the hall, looking both
ways like I feared I was going to get bowled over by the Magnus-mobile.
But there was still no sign of him. Strange as it was, it was getting even
stranger.
As I continued tiptoeing down the hall, the sound of a passionate cry
suddenly interrupted the air, stopping me dead in my tracks. My heart
paused momentarily before it started beating double-time. I craned my neck
to listen for more cries of distress because I was pretty sure they sounded
like…
“Pillage me harder, Magnus Viking!”
Yep, my mother was clearly in the process of being plowed by Magnus.
“Oh, my God,” I groaned as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
Jesus, was there no end to the absurdity that my life had obviously become?
“Yes!” she squealed and I wished I’d pocketed some ear plugs along
with my cell phone. “Harder! Plunder me HARDER!”
As much as I didn’t want to stand there listening, I needed to figure out
exactly where the sounds were coming from so I could do my best to avoid
walking in on them. So, I tiptoed a little further down the hallway, not
daring to go so far as to where I could be spotted, but far enough that I
could figure out where the high-pitched screams were coming from. Every
so often, they were punctuated by a low, deep moan, no doubt, from
Magnus. Finally, I traced them to the source, and they seemed to be coming
from the living room.
“You call that a Viking raid?” my mother continued to scream…
unfortunately. It was a good thing Rocco slept like the dead and Yolanda…
well, shit, Yolanda was still trapped inside the teapot in my closet.
That was another issue I’d have to deal with at a later time—after I
figured out how to get to The Hanged Man’s room without being spotted by
Magnus, or my mother, for that matter. As to how and when she’d arrived? I
had no clue. Maybe she’d never left and had spent the night here? Whatever
the answer, it didn’t really matter. And to be honest, I was glad she was still
here, keeping Magnus busy, even if I had to fight the urge to puncture my
ear drums.
Time was now of the utmost essence—I mean, how much longer could
my mom keep Magnus occupied?—I turned the other way and hurried
down the hall, my fingers curling around the key to The Hanged Man’s
room inside my robe pocket. Reaching the spiral staircase, I took the stairs
two at a time, a surge of adrenaline fueling my every step.
Once I reached the third floor, I hurried down the hallway until I
arrived at The Hanged Man’s door. Then I shoved the key into the lock, and
unlocked the door in record time. With my heart pounding loudly in my
chest, I dashed to the other side of the room, and threw that door open. Then
I took the stairs down to the hallway two at a time again. At last, there it
was: the bricked-in wall, my nemesis, and one which I was more than
determined to finally defeat.
“All right, you stubborn pile of bricks,” I said, taking a deep breath.
Then I resigned myself to all the blisters that I imagined were probably
going to appear all over my fingers and palms. “Time to see what’s on the
other side of you.”
I took off my robe and rolled up the sleeves of my pajama top. Then I
reached down for the sledgehammer where I’d left it leaning against the
brick wall. Grabbing the handle tightly, I closed my eyes and said a silent
prayer to whomever might have been listening that I’d obliterate the wall
once and for all.
My muscles tensed in anticipation, and I lifted the sledgehammer up
(as high as my nose), before swinging it down against the burgeoning hole
in the wall with all my might. When it hit the bricks, the impact
reverberated through my entire being, making my teeth chatter once more,
and reminding me that I really wasn’t very good at this. Not only that, but
the muscles in my arms were protesting in the worst possible way. The pain
was so acute, I had to wonder if I was doing permanent damage. Then I
hoped that maybe it was enough to get out of training with Magnus for a
little while. That thought impelled me to actually want to injure myself.
Shards of brick flew through the air as they shattered on impact and that
was enough motivation to keep me going.
More of the wall crumbled beneath my ceaseless onslaught, the mortar
yielding as beads of sweat started to tickle my forehead, but I refused to
back down. I had a goal that I would see to fruition. I took it as a sign from
the universe to know that Magnus was… currently occupied. Yes, I was
meant to do this—I was destined to find out what was on the other side of
this wall.
Another brick crashed down and I only had about five hundred left to
destroy. But no matter how long it took, I pressed on with my task. With
each fallen brick, a sense of accomplishment fortified me, driving me
onward with incessantly renewed determination.
I could do this!
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I noticed I’d created a pretty
sizable hole in the center of the wall. Reaching out, I plucked out a few
more pieces of loose brick and tossed them on the floor. Panting and
covered in sweat and red dust, I stepped back to survey my handiwork. Yep,
the chasm now facing me was definitely large enough for me to crawl
through it. And that was a damn good thing because I didn’t know how
much more of this wall-slaying I had inside me.
I caught my breath as I took a few steps forward, being careful not to
trip over the pile of bricks at my feet. Then I stared into the darkness
beyond the chasm. All I could see was the same thick, abysmal blackness. I
hesitated for a moment, staring into the darkness beyond the hole before
summoning what remnants of courage I had left, then I pushed half my
body through it.
But I still couldn’t make out much—just a murky outline of what
appeared to be a very dark hallway. So, I pulled myself back out again.
Then I stood there for a long moment, thinking about… well, I thought
about a lot of things. But the main thought running through my brain was
that there was only one way to find out where the very dark hallway led.
Right. I had to climb all the way through it and find out for myself.
However, that was—well, it wasn’t an easy choice to make. I mean, in
general, I think every person’s natural inclination leans toward self-
preservation. Walking down random dark hallways that were previously
walled up—well, it definitely didn’t sound like the greatest idea I’d ever
had.
Artemis wouldn’t have told you to take the wall down if you were going
to get killed, I reminded myself.
Right. Well, I hoped she wouldn’t have, anyway.
Was there such a thing as being a sacrificial Daughter of the Moon? An
expendable daughter whose only job was…
Enough, Kate, I scolded myself.
My heart was now pounding in earnest and I couldn’t ignore the
thought that this was a really bad idea. Not only did I have no clue what I
might find down the hallway, but there had to be a reason that Artemis had
walled it up in in the first place, right? Yes. So, why did she want me to take
the wall down now? Hmm, that was a really good question.
“Artemis, if you’re here, I could really use some help at the moment,” I
called out.
No one answered me and no letters magically appeared so that was the
end of that. Not that I was really surprised. Back to the reasons this was a
really bad idea—I was exploring the cavity all by myself, and if I happened
to come across a, well, I didn’t know… maybe a rabid demon on the loose
or something of that nature, I couldn’t rely on anyone for my safety but
myself. And I didn’t put much stock in my ability to defend myself—not
that I was being disrespectful to my inner being. Then I remembered the
fact that I probably had a guardian for a good reason, right? Well, maybe
this was the perfect occasion for Magnus to pay up for his hallway bed and
board. Except for the simple fact that he was currently gonads deep inside
my mother.
Gawd!
Yeah, so Magnus was definitely out. And what about my sword? That
was out too—because I’d left it leaning against the wall in my bedroom,
where it was doing me a hell of a lot of nothing.
Regardless, I had a feeling that whatever lesson I was supposed to learn
about The Hanged Man was anxiously waiting for me on the other side of
this brick wall. And, hopefully, it wasn’t preparing to kill me.
Taking another deep breath, I held it in my attempt to avoid inhaling
any lingering brick dust. Then I leaned over and thrust one leg through the
opening in the wall, crossing through the hole before I dropped my foot
down on the other side. Once I felt both of my feet touching down in the
darkness, I cautiously released my breath, and I turned around to take stock
of my new surroundings. I was definitely in a hallway, and stone walls were
flanking me on either side. But, in the nearly complete darkness, that was
pretty much the only thing I could be sure of.
Fumbling in my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and activated the
flashlight app. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing exactly what
I’d thought I’d see—I was standing at the end of a long hallway. But this
hallway looked somehow… familiar. It took me another second or so to
figure out why it looked familiar and once the realization dawned on me,
my breath caught in my throat. Why? Because this was the exact same
scene I remembered from Artemis’s book: a long, foreboding stone hallway
that appeared like it belonged in some medieval fortress of Europe.
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts and the sudden panic that
went along with them. There was no reason to be afraid (well, maybe there
was, but I decided it was better to tell myself otherwise). Clearly, Artemis
intended for me to find this place. If I didn’t believe it from her letter, then
the proof was in the fact that her book had clearly detailed this hallway.
Trying to slow my racing heart, I began walking down the hallway, my
footsteps echoing softly on top of the stone floor. As I followed the path, it
led me to a massive stone wall where the corridor terminated, just like the
picture in Artemis’s book had shown me.
Great, I thought, staring at the imposing barrier. Now what am I
supposed to do?
Yeah, it wasn’t like I could just use a sledgehammer to crash my way
through a stone wall—or, at least, I was pretty sure I couldn’t. But I knew
someone who could…
Yes, the thought of asking Magnus for his help continued to bubble
inside my mind, but I firmly and painfully dismissed it. Artemis had been
crystal clear: this was something I needed to do by myself, alone, sans any
help. But how was I supposed to do it? I mean, brick was one thing, and
stone was something else entirely.
“So how in the hell am I supposed to take down a stone wall?” I asked,
shaking my head in frustration. I couldn’t help feeling defeated, like this
was the end of my adventure. And what did I have to show for it? Blisters
on my palms and sweaty armpits? Well, maybe I might have bought myself
some time away from training with Magnus. If that were the case, then it
was still worth it, but if not…
You have the ability within you.
It was the same voice inside my head that I’d heard on several
occasions—usually when I was having a minor meltdown or a panic attack.
Maybe it was my higher self (whatever the hell that meant) or maybe not.
Maybe it was the first sign of the onset of dementia or schizophrenia. The
point was: I didn’t know whom or what the voice came from, but it usually
offered me some decent advice. It was like having Tony Robbins hanging
out behind your ear. At this point, I didn’t really care whose voice it was—I
just needed some freaking help.
 “In case you haven’t noticed,” I replied, addressing the surrounding
walls as though they were eager for a full-blown argument from me. Yeah,
this was probably the start of true dementia… “I’m five-foot-nothing and I
have the upper body strength of a bowl of Jello.”
Taking down this wall has nothing to do with your physical strength but
your mental acuity, the voice replied.
“What does that even mean?”
It means you have to focus your desire and then manifest it, the voice
answered.
“Ugh, all this juju magic stuff is so esoteric, it’s practically impossible
to understand,” I grumbled, mostly to myself. “Imagine that, manifest
this… Jesus, why can’t it just be something simple—like saying what you
mean and meaning what you say?”
It is simple.
Maybe it is for you, I thought back.
Try, the voice insisted, and I was pretty sure it sounded more than a
little bit annoyed. Well, whatever. It could be annoyed all it wanted—screw
you, Tony Robbins! All this intention and manifestation stuff was still new
to me, and I’d never been a spiritual person to begin with.
Despite my frustration, I faced the wall, narrowed my eyes, and said,
“Wall, come down.” Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. So, I turned around
and threw my hands up in the air while saying aloud, “See?”
Focus harder, the voice said, without any anger. Use the gifts you were
born with.
I wasn’t convinced I’d been born with any gifts, but maybe I had been
and no one had bothered to inform me. Either way, I figured there was no
use in my arguing with the voice in my head any longer. That meant I
should just give the whole manifestation thing a shot. I mean, what other
choice did I really have at this point?
Close your eyes and concentrate on what you want to happen, the
voice continued.
So, closing my eyes, I concentrated on bringing the wall down. Like I
really concentrated hard. So much so, that I was worried a vein might pop
on my forehead. So, I loosened up on the intensity and that was when my
mind started singing “Tear Down the Wall” from Pink Floyd. Not exactly
what I had in mind when I first started concentrating, but I shrugged as I
thought: Whatever, just go with it.
 As I continued chanting “Tear down the wall,” I felt my arms rising
entirely on their own accord, and my hands shifted so that my palms were
now facing the wall.
Tear down the wall!
We don’t need no education… no, skip that part!
Tear down the wall!
Right.
“Tear down the wall!” I whispered. “Tear down the wall!”
Opening my eyes, my mouth dropped in awe as I watched a section of
the wall begin to shimmer and waver, like it was caught in the rippling
current of an unseen tide. I took a step closer and held my hand up to the
strange sight, noticing how the air surrounding this patch of stone seemed to
hum with subdued energy. And it was also colder than the surrounding air.
Hmm, hopefully, that was a good sign.
I continued to reach forward, expecting my fingers to feel cold stone,
but they didn’t. Instead, I felt a gentle resistance, like shoving my fingers
into pudding or something similar. As I watched, my fingers simply passed
right through the wall like it wasn’t even there! Suddenly, the stones were
nothing more than a veil of mist.
Well, shit-and-a-half!

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Still reeling from shock and amazement, I stepped through the stone
wall, feeling like I was passing through a portal or something.
The air seemed to hum with energy as I moved through the stone, and
the temperature was strangely cool. But once I emerged on the other side, I
couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that I’d literally just walked through
solid rock like it was nothing. And now? Now I was facing a sizable room
that was mostly masked in darkness. The air here was cool—cooler than it
had been on the opposite side of the wall—but it was also heavier, making
me shiver in spite of myself. But my goosebumps weren’t entirely due to
the chill in the dark room; there was also an undeniable energy force here, a
feeling in the air that something important was about to occur.
As if on cue, my next step forward suddenly ignited numerous candles
that were placed in sconces hanging on the walls in equal increments. With
the warm, yellow light washing over the room, I was able see that the space
was empty except for a large, square glass enclosure standing in the center.
The glass box (for lack of a better word) was maybe twelve feet high, wide
and deep and it reminded me of something you might see in a sci-fi movie
—like some kind of futuristic prison cell.
But that was pretty much all I could say about the object because,
although it was glass, I couldn’t see inside it. No, the glass was opaque with
swirling shadows that seemed to be moving at high speeds—it was almost
like a cyclone was blowing inside the enclosure. The shadows danced
across the glass walls (intercepted with silver and dark gray metallic
streaks) like a tornado, making it impossible to see what lay beyond the
darkness.
Place your palms against the glass, that voice in my head suddenly
piped up.
My heart raced and I hesitated, but I didn’t come this far only to back
down now. So, taking a deep breath to help fortify what little courage I had
remaining, I took the steps separating me from the glass enclosure and did
as the voice instructed.
As soon as my fingers made contact with the glass, the billowing
shadows vanished like a curtain being yanked open at the beginning of a
play. With the shadows now gone, I could see inside the glass box and
found myself staring at a man who was suspended in midair, floating inside
the enclosure—but I couldn’t see anything anchoring him there. Instead, it
looked like he was just hovering, held by invisible strings. It took my
overwhelmed brain another moment to realize that he was completely
naked, and after another pause, I also realized that I recognized him.
“Gray,” I whispered as I felt my eyebrows furrowing together in my
own confusion.
Gray, meanwhile, simply hung there and appeared like he was sleeping,
just as naked as the day he was born. And, ahem, he had a pretty spectacular
body. As to how he’d managed to remain alive in invisible suspension while
being confined inside a box was anyone’s guess but I had a feeling the
answer probably had something to do with magic.
In the soft glow of the candlelight filtering through the glass, every
contour of his body illustrated his strength, and each line was etched and
sculpted with the precision of a master craftsman. His broad shoulders
tapered into a narrowly defined waist, accentuating the powerful V-shape of
his torso. Muscles rippled beneath his toned skin, but they weren’t
overinflated like the muscles you might see at the gym. His muscles were
long and sinewy. He had the type of body that was the result of hard work,
not from lifting dumbbells.
His chest rose and fell with each steady breath and beneath his six-pack
abdomen, a network of veins traced the contours of his tight stomach. As
my eyes glided downwards, I took in his arms that hung limply at his sides.
Although they might not have been moving, they too were corded with
defined muscles and sinewy skin. His biceps revealed some of the
musculature in his strong arms, and the veins popped out in stark relief
against the backdrop of his bronzed skin.
At that moment, I also noticed what appeared to be an IV bag floating
beside him. The tubing of the IV was wrapped around his throat like a
noose, and the cannula at the end of the tube disappeared into the carotid
artery of his neck. What I assumed must have been blood appeared to be
dripping from the bag, one drop at a time, into a small chamber before it
descended down the tubing, only to disappear inside him. While at first I
assumed it was blood, now I wasn’t so sure. I mean, the color of the fluid
wasn’t exactly red—well, it was reddish, but there were also little globules
of what appeared to be reflective particles of something pearlescent flowing
along with it.
 Magic was the first word that came to my mind. And then it dawned on
me.
“You’re The Hanged Man,” I whispered, and all the shock at that
discovery was evident in the tone of my voice.
I was pretty sure that the tubing running around his throat symbolized
the noose around The Hanged Man’s neck, but that wasn’t the only
epiphany that occurred to me. With a cold shiver, I also realized I’d just
come across the secret place where Artemis had hidden the unconscious
Lord Valerian Shadowbane, the leader of the Dark Coven.
His resting place was right here. She’d hid him inside this glass
enclosure behind a stone wall, that was further fortified by a brick barrier.
And what that meant was: Gray was Valerian and Valerian was Gray!
His true identity hit me like a tidal wave, sending my thoughts spinning
and making me reach out to stabilize myself against the glass walls of his
enclosure because I suddenly felt like my knees were ready to buckle and I
was afraid I might collapse.
“No,” I whispered, fighting against the ugly truth that was still in the
process of beating me over the head. But there was no denying it—Artemis
had left Valerian here—encased in this glass box—walled away in this
fortress for decades. She was the one responsible for allowing him to
believe he was merely living in a peaceful garden prison. But why? If he’d
been such a threat, why not just kill him? I mean, even though that sounded
kind of Machiavellian and cutthroat, wasn’t that what you were expected to
do when you were basically fighting a war? You had to terminate your
enemy, right? So, why the hell was he still alive? And why was he
suspended inexplicably in some sort of weird vegetable state?
Because Artemis knew he wasn’t really an enemy, the voice inside my
head told me.
But how could the leader of the Dark Coven not be an enemy to us and
everything else that was good? I didn’t know the answer to that and after
another few seconds of silence in my head, I figured I probably wasn’t
going to find out anytime soon. All I did know was that Artemis had her
own reasons for doing what she had and, as far as I could tell, whatever her
reasons were, they had to have been designed to give him all the time it
required to change him. He needed time to repent, and then he had to learn
how to become a new man… or a vampire, as the case may be.
 Oh, my God, Gray is a vampire! I thought to myself with horror. Then I
felt like I might be sick.
Just as I tried to clear my thoughts, and deny all the evidence I saw
before me, three things happened almost simultaneously. First, Gray’s eyes
snapped open, locking onto mine with a mixture of surprise and confusion.
That only lasted a second, however, before I saw the undeniable expression
of recognition, which was followed by more confusion.
Second, an icy chill suddenly swept through the room, as if the
shadows that had been swirling on the inside of the glass were released and
now ventilating the whole room with chilly gusts. In response, goosebumps
cropped up all over my skin as a feeling of dread started to spiral inside me,
like something terrible was about to manifest. I spun around and in the soft
glow of the flickering candlelight, I watched the shadows that were
currently dancing on the walls begin to close in, like they were surrounding
me and preventing me from leaving. From the depths of the shadows, a
form began to take shape—a grotesque silhouette, twisting and contorting
until I recognized the shadow creature from my dream—the one that had so
swiftly disappeared into the brick wall.
Its form was a mass of writhing tendrils and jagged edges. As I recoiled
in horror, my heart was screaming at me to leave as my mind tried to
understand how in the world I could protect myself against whatever this…
thing was. Then the shadow creature began to shift and contort again, its
form dissolving back into the swirling mass of darkness. Fiery embers also
began to flicker from deep within the shadows as the unmistakable shapes
of the hell hounds began to materialize next. Their piercing eyes were
blazing with infernal fire as they snarled and snapped at the air.
The shadows coalesced once more, now taking on the form of a man. It
was a figure cloaked in darkness, yet it exuded an air of quiet authority.
Even though I’d never seen him before (other than from Luke’s vision—but
he’d appeared cloaked then), I recognized the man immediately—he was
Ezra Blackthorn!
The third thing that happened was the sound of a deafening explosion
that made me instinctively cover my ears and scream. At the same time, I
turned to see Magnus standing in the middle of the rubble of the now
destroyed stone wall. He was wearing only a pair of white boxer shorts,
which might have been comical in any other situation. His chest was
heaving, and his eyes went wild as they moved from me, to Gray inside the
glass enclosure, to Ezra’s shadow that was inching closer and closer to the
glass. Magnus let out a growl that I could only compare to something that
might come from a gorilla, and then he charged the shadow that was Ezra.
Just then, a popping sound interrupted the air right next to me, and I
reeled around to watch Luke suddenly appear as if the atmosphere had just
spat him out. He took one look at me, and relief flooded his expression. But
then his gaze landed on Gray, where he was still floating, watching
everything around him with a confused sort of detachment, and Luke’s eyes
went wide.
“Valerian,” he whispered, his shock evident in every aspect of his
expression as a frown marred his face. Turning his attention back to me, he
tacitly seemed to say: you found him. But that conversation would have to
wait because it couldn’t happen now—not when it seemed my life was very
shortly about to come to an end.
Time seemed to slow down and almost stop when Luke recognized
Ezra. He moved to stand protectively in front of me, holding out his arms
on either side of him, like he intended to appear as if he were some sort of
barricade. Magnus, meanwhile, slammed his sword into Ezra, but it only
managed to pass right through him since Ezra appeared to be made of
shadows and nothing else. Ezra simply blipped in and out of existence,
vanishing before appearing once again directly in front of Gray’s, er,
Valerian’s, glass case.
Soon, it became pretty clear that neither I, nor Luke, nor Magnus, was
Ezra’s primary target. No, his piercing gaze remained locked onto Gray,
who stared back at him. But where Gray’s expression held only shock and
confusion, Ezra’s was full of something much more dangerous—rage and
hatred.
Ezra moved forward, the shadows curling around him like tendrils of
smoke, and before I could comprehend what he was doing, he threw his
arms out in front of himself. Almost immediately, the entire glass enclosure
shattered with a high-pitched, screeching noise as shards of glass rained
down all around us. Luke shielded me with his own body, holding his arm
out as a blue light arced over us. He was acting as a shield for me, or so I
imagined.
But I couldn’t say my attention stayed on Luke for long. Instead, I
lunged forward, sidestepping Luke and his magical shield, training my eyes
back to Ezra as I watched him simply float over the glass shards littering
the floor. He began to approach Gray, who stared at him with a complete
lack of understanding.
Use your magic, Daughter of the Moon, the voice ordered from inside
my head.
In response, I threw my hands up in front of me and called on my
ability to suspend time. But I was a heartbeat too late. In the quick
succession of seconds that passed, Ezra had already crafted a blade from his
shadows. As I watched with shock and terror, he pulled his cloaked arm
back, then shoved the blade deep into Gray’s chest, thrusting it even deeper
and impaling Gray’s heart.
It was at that particular moment when my own magic suddenly
manifested throughout the room, and time came to a complete standstill,
pausing everyone and everything where it stood. Even though I’d only been
aiming my hands at Ezra, that didn’t seem to matter because I was now the
only person in the room who still had the ability to move. My gaze went
from Luke, who’d thrown up his hands to release a ball of bright white
light, which now remained cemented in time just above him, to Magnus
who was caught in the middle of charging Ezra. And then I looked at Gray,
who was still suspended in midair, the shadow blade lodged deep inside his
chest.
He’s going to die, I thought to myself, immediately forcing the fearful
thought away because it was just too… painful for me. Although that pain
made no sense to me, because it wasn’t like I knew Gray well at all.
And Gray is Valerian Shadowbane, I yelled to myself, but as soon as
the thought occurred to me, I rejected it.
No, he was Valerian Shadowbane, but now… now he’d become
someone else.
Now, he was Gray.
And that was the lesson of the Hanged Man. In his own solitude, he’d
had time to repent his past and that repentance had changed him, just as
Artemis had known or hoped it would. But the Hanged Man’s lesson didn’t
only apply to Gray. It also applied to me—in this exact moment when I’d
paused time in order to reflect on what I needed to do next. And the new
perspective I was meant to take? That new perspective was a simple one—
Valerian wasn’t the enemy I’d imagined him to be.
I approached him very cautiously, trying to understand what in the
world I could do to help him, because the magic I’d summoned to stop time
had come into play a few seconds too late. And as far as I could tell, Ezra
had done exactly what he’d set out to do—kill Gray/ Valerian for good.
Speaking of Ezra, I watched the shadows that had been animating him
begin to fade into the scenery of the stone wall behind them, and I was also
suddenly overcome by the distinct impression that Ezra had disappeared.
Whatever I was now seeing was just a memory of his imprint fading away,
and pretty soon, the shadows disappeared entirely—as if he’d never been
here to begin with.
I turned my attention back to Gray and looked closely at him. To my
surprise, I found him looking back at me, although it seemed the light was
fading from his eyes.
This can’t be the end of it, I thought to myself. Or was I wrong, and this
really was the end?
You have the power of The Hanged Man now, Kate, the voice told me
in my head.
What does that mean?
It means you can now call on that power.
Okay, so what power do I call out to? How can I even determine what
power The Hanged Man gave me?
But I received no further response. So, I figured that meant, You’re on
your own, kid!
I didn’t know what I was doing, but I walked right up to Gray and
reached for the shadow blade I saw lodged in his chest. As soon as my
fingers made contact with it, the shadows transformed into a solid onyx
dagger that was almost freezing to the touch. But it didn’t faze me. With a
grunt, I pulled the blade free but a second later, dropped it as if it were
scalding hot. As I watched with unmasked alarm, the blade shattered on the
ground and then turned back into shadows once more, disappearing into
nothing in much the same way Ezra had.
When I glanced back up at Gray, I could see the wound in his chest—a
gaping gash that was bleeding profusely. He didn’t say anything to me, but
there was something in his eyes that seemed to be straining inside him to
tell me something—he seemed to be wanting to say, I’m sorry.
It was then that time resumed its normal pace, and utter chaos erupted
all around me. I heard Luke yelling at me to stay away from Valerian. Then
I caught Magnus lunging at the spot where Ezra had just been before he’d
simply vanished into the ether. The majority of my concern, however,
remained on Gray. As I stared at him, the chaos around me seemed to fade
into the background, as if it were nothing more than static on an old
television.
It was clear to me now that Ezra’s intentions had never been to restore
Gray as the Leader of the Dark Coven. Instead, Ezra had fully intended to
destroy him—either to take over the role of the leader himself or because
he’d realized the same thing that I did.
That Artemis had actually changed Valerian—making him no longer
the threat he’d always been. Gray claimed he’d been walking in his garden
for so long that he had to be in a state of repentance even if he wasn’t
entirely sure what he was atoning for. But the conclusion still remained the
same—Valerian was no longer his former version of Valerian.
I frowned, still very unsure what it meant that I now had The Hanged
Man’s power. I still didn’t know what that power was nor how I could use
it.
Don’t think, act, the voice inside me advised.
So, I did. As I stood there staring down at the massive gash on Gray’s
chest, I reached out and lifted my wrist up to his mouth, holding it in front
of his lips. I hoped he could detect the scent and flow of my blood.
He looked at me for a split second, as though he were trying to make
sure I was really offering him my life force. I simply nodded and he needed
no more persuasion. His fangs lengthened as he prepared to sink them into
my flesh.
“Kate, no!” I heard Luke shout.
But as Gray’s fangs pierced the flesh of my wrist, I believed what I was
doing was right—and I was only obeying what I was destined to do.
There was a slight sting when his fangs first entered my skin, but then I
just felt an electric jolt surging through me. The knowledge of what was
happening began to overcome me as well as the realization that my
newfound gift from The Hanged Man was the ability to heal. It flowed from
me into Gray, weaving its healing magic into his veins and ensuring that
Valerian Shadowbane would live to see another day…
Or, rather, another night.

The End
Find out what Kate’s up to next in:
 THE STAR
Book 3 of the Daughter Of The Moon Series
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 ALSO AVAILABLE:

Now that you’re all caught up on the Daughter of

the Moon series, are you looking for another series to
keep you busy until Kate returns?
I suggest trying one of my other paranormal
women’s fiction series, MIDLIFE MYSTERIES!
This series is paranormal women’s fiction set in
Victorian London 1880, featuring the quirky and
independent American widow, Philippa Fairfax, who
takes London and Inspector Grant Stirling by storm!
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 MIDLIFE MYSTERIES BOOK ONE,
A GHOSTLY GUARDIAN
CHAPTER ONE:
PHILIPPA

I never imagined I’d find myself sitting behind bars in a holding cell in
Scotland Yard.
But then again, I never imagined that my stepson would accuse me of
stealing a diamond necklace in the first place. When I’d awakened this
morning, I certainly hadn’t planned on spending my day like this.
As far as I could tell, Scotland Yard (also known as The Metropolitan
Police Service) had several holding cells for the temporary detention of
suspects, as well as for those awaiting trial.
I certainly wasn’t awaiting a trial but would have been considered a
suspect, I supposed. Either way, I wasn’t at all pleased to find myself in this
unlikely quandary.
As the constable escorted me through the dimly lit and poorly
ventilated holding cells, I noticed with some concern that they were quite
overcrowded.
The constable paused at one cell and with the help of his comrade,
emptied it of all its occupants, shooing them into the already overcrowded
cells on either side. Then he turned to face me with a quick nod.
“In you go, Mrs. Fairfax.” He gave me an apologetic smile then and,
overall, seemed quite embarrassed about the whole situation. “I’m awfully
sorry about your husband, ma’am. He was a good man.”
It wasn’t as though my husband had recently passed—he’d been gone
now for a year, but the condolences were appreciated, all the same.
“Yes, he was,” I answered and realizing the constable hadn’t wanted to
put me, a lady of polite, London society, in with the other poor retches (men
and women alike), I thanked him for his kindness.
My cell was furnished with nothing more than a wooden bench and a
straw mattress on the floor. I didn’t dare sit on either, not so much for fear
of whatever creatures were sharing this domicile with me, but the place was
quite filthy. It was also depressing, austere and inhospitable. The shorter my
stay here, the better.
I leaned back against the cold stone wall and let out a deep sigh as I
figured I should be grateful that the constable had seen to it that I was jailed
on my own. With the sounds of whatever was happening in the holding cell
beside me, it was a small mercy to find myself alone.
But as to this whole incident, it was absurd, really. Yes, I’d stolen the
necklace, but only because it was mine to begin with. My no-good stepson
had stolen it from me and I’d simply taken it back. Not only had I offered to
purchase Andrew as many diamond necklaces as he liked, but I’d actually
made good on my offer! Hancocks & Co. had hand delivered not two, but
three, diamond necklaces to Andrew’s home, all of which were of far higher
quality than the one in question. The only reason I cared about my diamond
necklace was owing to its sentimental value.
“Mrs. Fairfax,” came the sound of another constable’s voice as he
turned the corner and appeared in front of my cell. The sound of the cell
keys jingling met me before he did. “The inspector will see you now.”
“Thank you,” I answered and gave the man a quick smile. He
responded in kind, though his smile was a bit on the ill at ease side and he
fumbled with the keys in the lock, dropping them once. I was quite certain
it wasn’t everyday a lady of the ton was admitted to Scotland Yard as a
thief. And if the newspapers caught a whiff of just what was going on, I was
more than sure I’d be on the cover of every one of them come the morning.
Not that I gave a snuff—the more you cared about your reputation, the more
you lived for other people.
 The constable escorted me out of my cell and down the long hallway.
We passed holding cells on either side of us, each of them near overflowing
with all manner of law breakers. As we passed, those incarcerated had
plenty of colorful comments for the constable or, perhaps the comments
were aimed at me, I wasn’t quite certain. As an American in London, I still
hadn’t quite grasped the English accent and all its various forms.
After taking the stairs, we were greeted with yet another hallway and
when we reached the office at the end of it, the constable paused before he
rapped on the door exactly three times. “Inspector Stirling, I got Mrs.
Fairfax here for ya.”
“Escort her in,” came the response, delivered in a heavy Scottish
accent.
The constable opened the door for me and I took my cue, bursting past
him in an array of skirts. As to the particular gown I was wearing, well, let
us just say it was an absolute shame I’d been arrested in this ensemble as it
was one I’d just received direct from Paris. The fabric, a lightweight silk,
was both delicate and airy, with lace and ruffles embellishing each sleeve.
The bodice was fitted, the neckline high and the sleeves long and slender.
My waist was cinched in tightly with a corset (a most uncomfortable and
irritating contraption, to be sure), and the bodice extended over my hips,
creating a smooth, elongated line. The skirt was full and trimmed with lace
at the hem along with gathers at the waist, creating a voluminous effect.
The back of the skirt extended into a bustle, but one smaller than what was
currently all the rage, owing to the fact that I found the things quite
frustratingly awkward. As to the fabric, well it was quite lovely, the color a
sapphire blue, something all the rage in Paris. I did imagine sapphire would
soon catch on in London, owing to the fact that London was really a gray
city and, thus, could use a dab of color.
My wide-brimmed hat was the exact color of my dress (as were my
gloves) and decorated with feathers. And because I was careful to overdo it,
my jewelry was minimal, just a brooch to add a touch of sparkle.
Before you suppose I’m quite a vain creature, I must inform you that it
was my responsibility of sorts to notice such details where ladies’ wear was
concerned. Among the ton of London, I had (inadvertently) made a name
for myself as a bit of a fashion icon—mostly because I’d spent the last year
or so living in Paris, among the most fashionable of all ladies.
“Detective Inspector,” I greeted the man who was standing before me.
 As to the inspector, I knew his name was Grant Stirling, because my
late husband had said as much. Patrick had told me that he and Inspector
Stirling had been quite close—not just because Patrick was the inspector’s
superintendent, but also because they were friends. I’d never met Inspector
Stirling before, but from what I understood from Patrick, Grant Stirling was
a true gentleman, a hero in his own right, and a Scot to boot. I couldn’t help
but wonder what he would make of me, an American heiress accused of
theft and the wife of his deceased boss—one who had left town as soon as
her husband had died.
Well, now I was back and facing this... mess.
Inspector Stirling looked up from where he was standing behind his
desk, rifling through a stack of papers as I entered his office. He
immediately took stock of my gown with an expression of... well, let us just
say it wasn’t admiration. But men are very rarely in the know when it
comes to fashion.
“Mrs. Fairfax,” the inspector greeted me and then faced the constable,
giving the man a single nod to send him on his way. I was quite
embarrassed to admit (if only to myself) that I’d completely forgotten the
constable was still standing there! But that was the inspector’s fault because
he had a quite formidable presence and I did imagine most people would
forget any others who happened to be in a room with him.
Grant Stirling most likely towered over most people with his imposing
height (upwards of six feet, were I to guess), standing tall and straight, his
shoulders squared. He was also exceptionally handsome with a sharp,
angular face including chiseled features and a strong jawline, accentuated
by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, the hue of which was the same
shade of black as his hair.
As was to be expected, he was dressed in the attire of a detective,
exuding a sense of authority and professionalism. A long black coat lay
folded over one of the leather chairs in the corner of the room, something
that would have paired nicely with his white and crisp shirt, buttoned up to
the collar, with a matching waistcoat and dark trousers. His black leather
shoes were polished to a high shine, giving off a sharp reflection.
A pocket watch dangled from his waistcoat pocket, and a silver chain
linked it to a fob, marking him as a man of some class. On his desk lay a
black bowler hat and beside that, a black leather satchel.
 Around his left hand, he wore a bandage. I couldn’t help but notice the
way he held his hand protectively, as if trying to hide his injury.
“I knew your husband well.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” I answered, trying to keep the tremble out of my
voice, but there was something about the inspector that I found somewhat
intimidating. Perhaps it was the thunderous sound to his voice or the storm
that brewed in his eyes when he looked at me. A storm that was full of
suspicion, I might add.
Though we’d only said less than ten words to one another, I was
overcome with the feeling that the inspector disliked me. And I had an idea
that his dislike had originated long before this moment.
“Though I’ve never met you,” he continued, eyeing me narrowly as if
that fact was somehow my fault.
“A shame, I am certain.”
Inspector Stirling nodded and gestured for me to sit in one of the
leather chairs opposite his large mahogany desk. I did as he instructed and
found him leaning over his desk directly in front of me, his blue eyes now
narrowed on my own.
“It’s not every day we get a lady of your station... here. Nevermind one
who was married to the superintendent.”
“I should imagine you don’t.”
He studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide if we were playing
some sort of game and if we were, which character he should assume. “As I
understand, you’ve been brought in on charges of theft?”
I took a deep breath. “I haven’t stolen anything that didn’t already
belong to me.”
“And, yet, your stepson seems to believe you have.”
At the mention of Andrew, Patrick’s son from a previous marriage, I
felt my stomach drop. Andrew and I had never gotten on, but now things
had reached an all-time low, to be sure. “The necklace in question was a gift
from Patrick. He gave it to me on our wedding day, thus it was mine and
still is.”
The inspector raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t appear convinced—
not in the least. “And how did the necklace come to be in the possession of
your stepson, Andrew, then?”
“That’s just it,” I said, feeling a spark of anger as I reminded myself to
stay in control of my emotions. If there was one thing I didn’t want to do, it
was to lose my temper, because men had a stupid way of attributing a
woman’s anger to her ‘inability to think rationally’. And if I was one thing,
it was rational. “Upon my return to London,” I started.
“And where were you before your return?”
“Paris.” He nodded as if none of this was new information. Perhaps
he’d done his research where I was concerned.
“Hence why none of your husband’s colleagues have ever met you.”
I nodded once. “Correct.”
“Go on.”
“Upon my return to London a month or so ago, Andrew came to visit
me, claiming the necklace was rightfully his.”
“And why did he think that?”
“He said Patrick had left it to him in his will.”
The inspector nodded. “And according to said will, Andrew was
correct.”
Keep control of your temper, Pippa, I reminded myself. “No, he wasn’t
correct.”
Stirling’s eyebrows reached for the exceptionally high ceilings in his
office. “Am I correct in stating that according to Patrick’s will, you and he
both kept the belongings, money and otherwise, with which you both
entered the marriage... separate?”
I nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything. “That’s so.”
“A strange legal arrangement to be sure,” Stirling continued as he
walked around his desk and crossed over to the numerous windows that
overlooked the Thames River.
With his back to me, it was impossible not to notice the detective’s firm
and well-defined posterior, revealing the evidence of regular physical
training and quite an active lifestyle. The muscles of his derrière were
prominently shaped, sculpted by what I imagined was rigorous exercise and
physical exertion. As he moved, the well-toned muscles flexed beneath the
fabric of his tailored trousers, the contours of his backside hinting at the
agility and dexterity required for pursuits that demanded swift action and
quick reflexes.
I tried to force my eyes up—to the gray view of the Thames beyond the
windows—the river just a shade or two darker than the sky itself, but my
mischievous gaze seemed intent on returning to the rather pleasing shape of
the detective.
 His posture exhibited an upright stance, displaying confidence. The
breadth of his shoulders was wide, as was the width of his biceps (which
seemed to appear even broader owing to the bands he wore on either of his
upper arms). While I would describe the detective as an exceedingly cynical
man and none too friendly, his athletic and muscular backside certainly
served as a visual testament to his dedication to physical fitness, suggesting
that he possessed the strength, agility, and endurance necessary to navigate
the challenges of his investigative work in the bustling streets of London.
He glanced back at me then and catching me in the act of taking in his
person, I immediately cleared my throat and glanced down at my lap,
feeling a blush creeping over my cheeks.
Good God, Pippa, will you stop staring at his posterior! I yelled at
myself.
“Do you not suppose that’s a strange legal arrangement?” he repeated,
looking at me with a pronounced scowl.
“Oh, well...” Oh, Christ. What the bloody hell was he talking about?
Please let it be known that in general, I tried to dissuade my active
mind from thinking up such brazen words but sometimes when one is faced
with a quite cross inspector, one’s mind can’t be regulated.
“What was the strange legal arrangement again?” I asked, smiling most
apologetically. My heart was now racing and I felt lightheaded and
flummoxed over the fact that my brain had suddenly gone as blank as a
sheet of paper. It was as if I’d forgotten everything in that moment,
including the reason why I was sitting here, staring into space.
Inspector Stirling was stone-faced as he responded, “your husband’s
will.”
“Ah, yes! Right!” I said, nodding immediately as I gave him a large
grin. “Patrick organized his will in such a way to ensure that should
anything ever happen to him,” I took a deep breath at this point because I
very much disliked thinking about what had happened to Patrick. “That
none of my extensive wealth would pass to Andrew.” I swallowed hard.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about Andrew’s penchant for gambling?”
The inspector shook his head. “Aye, you don’t have to tell me—I’m
aware.”
“Anyway, in keeping our assets separate, Patrick forgot to add a line in
his will for the necklace and that oversight has led to this... debacle.”
 The inspector looked at me and nodded, while pulling on one end of his
mustache. “A necklace which had belonged to his mother, as I understand
it?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“So, the necklace was something that came from Patrick, hence it was
something that should have been handed down to Andrew?”
I frowned. Yes, it was quite obvious that the inspector didn’t like me,
though I felt that bias was completely unfair because this was the first time
we’d ever been introduced to one another. And wasn’t there supposed to be
truth to the statement: ‘innocent until proven guilty’?
“That’s not true or...” I paused as I considered it, cocking my head to
the side as the inspector gave me quite the glum expression. “Perhaps it was
true at one point, but it’s not true any longer.”
“I see.” Inspector Stirling then gave me a placating smile but it wasn’t
genuine—it was a smile the cat gives the mouse before it’s ready to pounce.
“And why is it no longer true?”
“Because, as I mentioned earlier, Patrick gave me the necklace and in
doing so, it became mine.”
Inspector Stirling frowned. “And yet there’s no proof that Patrick gave
it to you—thus, it appears we only have your word to go on, is that so, Mrs.
Fairfax?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s so.” I blew out a frustrated breath—truly, it was
quite a maddening situation to be accused of something for which you were
wholly innocent.
“Furthermore, I must admit that I do find it strange that your stepson
would accuse you of such a crime if the crime were not based in fact—not
only that he’d accuse you, but that he’d go to such lengths to take the
necklace from you,” the inspector continued as he huffed out a breath and
turned from the window to return to his desk. Once he reached it, he stood
behind it, one hand reaching out to clutch the top of the chair before him.
I found my eyes settling on his hand—it was the injured one. The
bandage wrapped around the entire length of his index and middle fingers
and wrapped around the center of his hand. The rest of his fingers grasped
the leather of the chair quite emphatically. It was a large hand, to be sure,
long fingered, with a dusting of dark, black hair peeking out from under the
muslin of the bandage.
 “What happened to your hand?” I asked, even though I hadn’t meant to
be overly prying or personal—the words had just sort of sprouted from my
tongue before I could stop them.
The inspector seemed surprised by the question and immediately stood
up straight, pulling his injured hand behind his back. I could tell he was a
man who didn’t like to show any vulnerability.
“It’s nothing,” he said gruffly. “Just a little accident.”
My curiosity got the better of me. “Is it broken?”
“Aye.” He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath before
continuing, “I got into a scuffle with a suspect.” His voice was low and
gruff. “He didn’t go down easily, and required a good laying out.”
“Goodness,” I replied, eyebrows reaching for the ceiling. “You hit him
and broke your fingers?”
He nodded and then shrugged. “It’s nothing that won’t heal in time.”
He cleared his throat. “Now, Mrs. Fairfax, back to the subject of why your
stepson would insist you stole something that belonged to him, though you
insist it belonged to you.”

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 CHAPTER TWO:
PHILIPPA
I sighed and inspected my gloved hand because on the subject as to
why Andrew had made the claims against me that he had, I didn’t have an
answer for the inspector.
“I can only assume this is Andrew’s attempt at trying to get back at
me,” I said, feeling a wave of frustration washing over me. This whole thing
was a huge misunderstanding and it had thwarted my day in the most
inconvenient way. “He’s always resented me, ever since I married his father.
But I never thought his resentment would go this far—especially after I’ve
already provided him with three necklaces, all of which far outweighed the
value of this one.”
Inspector Stirling’s eyebrows shot up at that and he stroked the end of
one side of his mustache again, this time with his bandaged hand, as he
appeared to be deep in thought for a second or more. “Did you?”
“I did.”
“And can you prove as much?”
I nodded. “You have simply to inquire with Hancocks & Co.”
The inspector nodded and then sighed as he shook his head and
appeared even more perturbed than he had. “Mr. Fairfax failed to mention
that.”
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course, he did. He
probably also failed to mention that not only did I purchase the home in
which he currently resides, but I also provide him with £100 a month of my
own inheritance I received when my father passed away. And I do so in
honor of my late husband, not because I’m ordered to do so.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise once more. Clearly, Andrew hadn’t
painted the full picture for the inspector.
“Your purported generosity aside, Mrs. Fairfax—”
“It’s not purported if it’s a fact, Inspector.”
“It’s not a fact yet, as far as I’m concerned,” he responded rather
crankily. Then he continued, clearing his throat as the frown returned to mar
his face. “Do you have any proof that the necklace was indeed given to you
by your husband?”
I shook my head and sighed. This was the sticking point. “No, I’m
afraid not. But you should ask yourself, Inspector, why would I steal from
my own family, especially given the fact that I don’t need to?”
His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, Mrs.
Fairfax, but it’s simply your word against Mr. Fairfax’s. And the only thing
to call a spade a spade is your husband’s will.”
I gritted my teeth. “This is completely unfair.” I started to stand up then
as I faced him with a frown, figuring I most probably would now need to
procure a lawyer. What a bother. “Then I suppose you’ll let me know when
my trial is to be set?”
“Aye, that is the way of things.”
I nodded. “Well, until then, I shall return home and await your
response.”
Just as I was about to take a step towards the door, Inspector Stirling
leaned forward and reached out to take my shoulder, pushing me back down
into the chair I’d just vacated. It was a strange thing for him to do—
invading my personal space in such a way—as if we were well known to
one another. Left with no alternative, I sat again. But I was none too happy
about it.
“Until I can verify your claim, I’m afraid I have no choice but to hold
you here.”
I felt a surge of panic overtake me then as I thought about returning to
the odious cells below. He couldn’t be serious! “Hold me? Here? You mean,
I’m under arrest?”
He looked at me as if I were daft in the head. “That’s exactly what you
are.”
“But... I can pay whatever bail is required for my release.”
He shook his head. “Bail is at the discretion of the magistrate or judge
handling the case and your case hasn’t even progressed that far, Mrs.
Fairfax.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded, my heart now thumping away
most uncomfortably in my throat.
“It means you will remain here until a judge decides what to do with
you.”
“Or until you can prove I’m innocent?”
He cocked his head to the side and nodded, though his expression said
he didn’t believe I was innocent.
I slumped back into the chair, suddenly feeling defeated and unsure of
what to do next. This was not how I’d imagined my day going and I was
starting to get more irritated by the second. I looked up at him then and
frowned.
“I will have you know that I have an engagement later this evening,
and a most important engagement at that. I don’t have time to be forced into
one of your most unhygienic cells.”
The inspector arched a brow and appeared slightly amused for the first
time since I’d entered his office. “An engagement?”
“A ball,” I replied, sitting up a little straighter. “Lord Abbott is hosting
a gala this evening and he’s requested my presence—I am to be an honorary
guest of sorts.”
And the amusement was suddenly gone from his expression just as
quickly as it had arrived. “Why should I care about that?”
I rolled my eyes, figuring he wouldn’t understand. Not only was he a
man, but he and I were cut from completely different bolts of fabric, as it
were. “I’m something of a fashion icon to the ladies of the ton. As such,
they’re expecting me to parade my newest gown at Lord Abbott’s ball—a
gown imported from Paris, of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated with a facetious smile.
The gown had been created for me by my good friend and modiste,
Augustine, who lived in Paris. And the only reason I’d agreed to parade this
newest gown around the ton at Lord Abbott’s gala (I certainly wasn’t
excited about acting the part of a living mannequin) was owing to the fact
that I was doing a favor for my friend. Augustine, like me, was a single
woman trying to make her way in society and I wanted to ensure that she
succeeded. Seeing as how Lord Abbott was the owner of the Liberty
department store and was interested in carrying Paris fashions, I’d agreed to
sample all Augustine’s newest creations at his events.
But I doubted Inspector Stirling wanted to hear all of that, so I kept my
mouth shut. Instead, I gave him an expression that showed him just how
little I cared for his mockery. “Lord Abbott made a special comment about
the reveal of this particular gown in his invitations, so it would be highly
impolite of me not to attend.”
“And why should Lord Abbott have such an interest in you and your
silly French gowns?”
I shrugged and pointedly decided to ignore the part about ‘silly, French
gowns’. “He wishes to start carrying a line of French gowns in his Liberty
department store.”
 The detective had a serious look on his face, one that suggested he was
about to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “I’m sure all the ladies of
the ton and Lord Abbott too, for that matter, will understand why you
couldn’t attend your soiree as soon as it gets out that you were sitting in
prison for stealing a diamond necklace that didn’t belong to you.”
I bristled at his comment, not appreciating his sarcasm. “I’m not going
to be sitting in prison.”
He chuckled at that but the sound was void of any humor. “You, Mrs.
Fairfax, don’t seem to understand just how much trouble you’re facing.”
While I’d initially found his thick Scottish accent charming, now it just
irritated me.
I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I understand perfectly well,
thank you. I just don’t see why I should be in trouble in the first place,
because I’m telling you the truth.”
He raised an eyebrow, studying me for a moment. “You are in trouble,
Mrs. Fairfax, because you were caught with a stolen necklace in your
possession.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know that much. But if the system favored
women as much as it favors men, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.”
He let out another low chuckle. “Is that so? And what do you suggest I
do about that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe start treating women as equals in the
eyes of the law?”
His lips twitched, but the smile never fully birthed itself on his mouth.
Good thing too because that would only have enraged me, I was sure. “I’ll
keep that in mind. In the meantime, I need to figure out what to do with
you.”
“You could release me and allow this misunderstanding to work itself
out?” I figured it was worth a shot.
His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression turning serious once more.
“Forgive me for being a bit skeptical, given your past.”
My jaw clenched at that, because I had no idea what he was talking
about. “What does my past have to do with any of this?”
He walked around his desk then and stood in front of it, just beside me,
for a second or so before taking a seat on the edge of the desk and
stretching his long legs out before him. He wrapped his arms against his
chest, holding his bandaged hand close. Then he leaned forward, his eyes
intent on mine. “As I understand it, Patrick died fairly soon after bringing
you over from the continent. I can’t help but wonder if there was more to
that particular story than meets the eye.”
I stiffened, my heart pounding, as anger and indignation began to flood
me. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with my husband’s
death?”
Good Lord! The bloody nerve of the man! Who in hell did he think he
was to say such a horrid thing to me?
I was already of the opinion that Inspector Stirling was a hard and dour
man who probably hadn’t truly laughed a day in his life, but this! Well, this
insinuation was just as shocking as it was irreverent.
He leaned further forward, his expression intense. “I find it suspicious
that Patrick died so soon after you arrived in London.”
I glared at him, so completely insulted, I didn’t even know how to
respond. I swallowed down the acid retort that was perched on my tongue
and took three deep breaths as I tried to calm myself down, but I was truly
and wholly livid. “As you’re well aware,” I managed to respond with a
calm voice which was truly a feat in and of itself. “My husband died of
tuberculosis, nothing sinister.”
Stirling didn’t appear convinced, but he didn’t say anything more on
the topic and, instead, just studied me with narrowed eyes. “Tell me more
about your life in America.”
“Why?”
A glare. “Because I’m asking.”
I matched his glare. “What do you want to know?” And why had this
conversation taken such a personal turn?
“For starters: how did you meet Patrick Fairfax?”
I sighed—I really didn’t have the time for this, because it was true—
Lord Abbott was throwing a gala this evening and if I wanted to be
prepared for it, I needed to start those preparations in an hour or so. But, as
I eyed the inspector, I was met with the feeling that he was used to playing
by his own rules. And when in Rome... “My father was a notable
archaeologist and traveled the world, giving lectures about the artifacts he
found.”
He appeared surprised to hear that. “What is your maiden name?”
“Russe.”
 Inspector Stirling nodded as if he recognized my surname, which
wasn’t much of a surprise because my father had been very well known
before he’d died. “Archibald Russe?”
“Yes.”
“I remember Patrick talking about attending your father’s lectures at
the British Museum.”
I nodded. “That’s where I met Patrick—at the British Museum during
one of my father’s tours.”
“Aye,” the inspector said, getting up and walking around his desk as he
took a seat in his chair and then leaned back into it, bobbing up and down
like a buoy on a turbulent sea. “And how did your relationship develop
from there?”
“I don’t understand how this is pertinent to my case, Inspector.”
He continued to bounce back and forth, his fingers (well, except for the
bandaged ones) steepled in front of him as he inspected me as if I were an
exotic insect, dead and mounted beneath a sheet of glass.
“Humor me.”
I rolled my eyes and made a frustrated sound, but the stupid inspector
continued to bounce in his stupid chair.
“Fine,” I breathed out the word on a sigh and gave him a look that said
I was none too excited about having to recount such personal information.
“After our initial introduction at one of my father’s lectures, Patrick began
calling on me while my father and I were still in London.”
“How long ago was this?”
I glanced upwards as I tried to remember. “Perhaps eighteen months
ago.”
“Go on.”
“After we returned to the states, Patrick even made a few trips out to
Boston to visit me,” I continued, feeling a twinge of nostalgia for those
early days of our courtship. I missed Patrick terribly and it was times like
this, when I was reminded of our short time together, that made me miss
him even more.
“Boston is where you’re from?”
I nodded. “During the times Patrick and I weren’t physically in the
same country, we corresponded. My father and I made many trips here, to
London, to visit him and sometimes he would meet us in other countries
during my father’s tours.”
 “Then I’m assuming the sudden fortune Patrick found himself with
must have been yours?”
“Sudden fortune?”
The inspector nodded. “Your husband certainly earned a good wage as
superintendent but nothing that would have enabled him to live the lavish
lifestyle you must be accustomed to.”
I frowned, because it was impolite to speak of finances, but the
inspector didn’t seem like someone who was concerned with propriety or
common decency, for that matter. “My father uncovered many ancient relics
and antiquities and in selling them to museums and private collections, he
managed to earn a very respectable living.”
The inspector laughed at that. “I’d call your inheritance more than
respectable, Mrs. Fairfax.”
“Call it what you will.”
He nodded, seeming to accept my explanation—at least for the time
being. “Interesting. And what made you decide to settle in London?”
I shrugged. “Patrick—as Superintendent of Scotland Yard, wasn’t eager
to leave his post.”
The inspector had stopped buoying in his chair and now leaned back,
studying me with a thoughtful expression. “Yes, Patrick was the best at
what he did. What I do find interesting though is that I worked with Patrick
for years and yet I’m only just now meeting you.” And there was that
suspicious expression again—only this time it was more pronounced.
“We had a long-distance courtship mostly,” I answered on a shrug.
“Until sixteen months ago, when he asked me to marry him.”
“He proposed after only two months of courtship?”
I nodded. “And we were married two months after that, though it
would still take me another few weeks to relocate from Boston to London...
because my father was ill.” I breathed in deeply because I didn’t like
discussing the deaths of the two most important people in my life. In
general, I tried to banish such thoughts from my mind because the pain was
always too much to bear. In my forty years on this planet, I felt as if I’d
suffered quite a bit of death and sadness. “Then, after my father died,
Patrick moved me out to London and after just a few months, he too was
gone.”
“And then so were you.”
 And here was the crux of the matter—the reason why the inspector had
always been suspicious of Philippa Fairfax, before he’d ever even met me.
“Yes, I left London directly after Patrick’s death,” I admitted.
“And why was that?” Another hostile expression.
I shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to live in London without him and I
couldn’t return to America because I was haunted by the ghost of my father
there, not literally, of course.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“So, I moved to Paris for a year.” I swallowed hard as something
occurred to me. “Did Patrick never speak of me?” I would have imagined
that the inspector would have already known some of these details from
Patrick, himself.
Inspector Stirling studied me for a few seconds before he released the
breath he’d been holding. “He spoke of you, aye—often. That is, when he
was here—in London. Towards the end of his life, I must admit he wasn’t
here, in the office, very much. I shouldered the majority of his cases.”
Neither of us said anything more after that and the silence stretched
between us for a good few seconds. Inspector Stirling just continued to look
at me, as if trying to make me uncomfortable with the depth of his gaze. It
was strange but I got the feeling that he was curious about me and not all of
that curiosity was suspicion. Or perhaps I was simply imagining that last
bit.
“So, Mrs. Fairfax,” he said finally, his Scottish accent thickening on my
name. “There is still the matter of the diamond necklace.”
I breathed in deeply. “I swear to you, Inspector Stirling, that Patrick
gave it to me as a gift. He said it was a family heirloom and he wanted me
to have it on our wedding day.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did he put that in writing anywhere, Mrs.
Fairfax, because at this point, that’s the only way you’ll be able to prove
your claim.”
I shook my head, feeling a surge of frustration. “No, he didn’t—or as
far as I know he didn’t.” Then something occurred to me as I frowned at
him. “Don’t you think it worthwhile to ask yourself why I would steal a
necklace when I’m already an heiress to a vast fortune, as you so indecently
put it?”
His eyebrows lifted momentarily and I got the feeling that it was a rare
occasion when Inspector Stirling was challenged by someone. Then he
looked at me shrewdly. “Your father’s fortune is no guarantee of your own
financial stability, Mrs. Fairfax. People have been known to do desperate
things for money.”
I glared at him, feeling insulted. “I’m not ‘people’. I’m a respectable
widow and I would never stoop so low as to steal a piece of jewelry unless
it was rightfully mine and something my husband intended me to have.”
He sighed, looking almost apologetic, but then he shrugged as if there
was nothing more he could say on the subject. “My hands are tied, Mrs.
Fairfax. Unless you can provide concrete evidence that the necklace was
intended for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you with grand theft.”
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 ALSO BY HP MALLORY:
PARANORMAL WOMEN’S FICTION:
Daughter Of The Moon
Midlife Mysteries
Midlife Spirits
Haven Hollow
Misty Hollow
Trailer Park Vampire
Gwen’s Ghosts
PARANORMAL ROMANCE:
Witch, Warlock & Vampire
Lily Harper
Dulcie O’Neil
Gates of the Underworld
PARANORMAL REVERSE HAREM:
Happily Never After
My Five Kings

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ALSO IN PARANORMAL WOMEN’S
FICTION:

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 About H.P. Mallory:

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bestselling author. She writes paranormal fiction,
heavy on the romance! H.P. lives in Southern
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