Scott Tracey - Moonset

• Название: Moonset
• Автор: Scott Tracey
• Жанр: Фэнтези

Moonset, a coven of such promise . . . Until they turned to the darkness.

After the terrorist witch coven known as Moonset was destroyed fifteen years ago—during a secret war against the witch Congress—five children were left behind, saddled with a legacy of darkness. Sixteen-year-old Justin Daggett, son of a powerful Moonset warlock, has been raised alongside the other orphans by the witch Congress, who fear the children will one day continue the destruction their parents started.

A deadly assault by a wraith, claiming to work for Moonset’s most dangerous disciple, Cullen Bridger, forces the five teens to be evacuated to Carrow Mill. But when dark magic wreaks havoc in their new hometown, Justin and his siblings are immediately suspected. Justin sets out to discover if someone is trying to frame the Moonset orphans . . . or if Bridger has finally come out of hiding to reclaim the legacy of Moonset. He learns there are secrets in Carrow Mill connected to Moonset’s origins, and keeping the orphans safe isn’t the only reason the Congress relocated them . . .

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“ ‘We’ meaning the Congress, right?” Jenna questioned. “Have they decided to stop being cowards and start teaching us something useful?”

“Jenna!” There was a time and a place for airing your grievances, but in front of the world’s deadliest grandma wasn’t it.

Illana, however, didn’t look particularly offended, except by the decor in the kitchen. She turned up her nose at some of the “family”-themed wall hangings that had been put up before we arrived. “Quinn told me you’ve been … unhappy.”

“I was unhappy getting stuck in the middle of nowhere.” Jenna’s words were sharp, and her expression as dark as I’d ever seen it. “I’m pissed that we almost died, no thanks to any of you.”

Quinn cleared his throat.

“Not you, Quinn,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re perfection.”

His chest puffed out and he smirked a little. Clearly he was ignoring the sarcastic drip of

Jenna’s words.

“When you can prove that you deserve to learn more, I’ll happily teach you myself,” Illana said. It was clear she thought that day would never come. None of us were under any illusions about that.

“So you’ll risk our lives in the meantime? Just to prove some stupid point about responsibility?” Jenna demanded. “You’re insane.”

“So you’ll risk their lives just to prove you don’t care to be responsible?” Illana fired back.

“So what does that mean?” I interrupted, hoping to stave off the Jenna rant that would eliminate any hope of good will on Illana’s part. “You said something about paying more attention to us?”

“It means exactly what I said. We need to pay more attention. So we will. I’ll be staying on in

Carrow Mill, as will a few others.”

“You’re leaving D.C.?” Quinn asked, clearly surprised by this news. So maybe the family didn’t tell each other everything.

“Oh, great. More babysitters,” Jenna snapped.

“Just hear her out,” I tried.

“Are you kidding me, Justin? She’s one of them. We can’t trust her. We can’t trust either of them.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes, regarding me with something like genuine emotion.

“You used to know whose side you were on.”

“I’m on the same side I’ve always been on,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her eyes from mine. “I’m just starting to realize it’s not mine.” She stormed out of the room.

Illana waited, then rose to her feet. “Justin will see me out. Quinn, start looking into those theories for me. I want to know how many other surprises have been buried in the soil here.”

Buried in the soil? What? I looked at Quinn, who breezed past me. “He’s been a mechanic here for thirty years; it’s not like he ever went into hiding. The only reason we know anything is because he approached Justin and Mal.”

“I don’t care if he’s selling used cars on the side of the road,” Illana said harshly. “Someone didn’t do their homework. Especially during a time like this—that’s inexcusable.”

Illana headed for the door, and I followed in her wake. She must be used to it, I figured.

People scurrying after her, letting her set the current and forcing their direction. Jenna had been right about that much, at least. Illana was here for a reason, and it wasn’t what she was telling us. It wasn’t anything like what they were telling us.

“We’re still in danger, aren’t we?”

Illana didn’t pause. The door opened, then the screen door, and she stepped through into the afternoon sun. “There’s always danger. But danger and opportunity are fast friends. So take your opportunity, and show me who you’re going to be. A child of Moonset, or a child of the

Congress.”

Eleven

“Sutter and Denton, seniors, first brought the incidents to the school’s attention. Initial speculation was confirmed after a Coven was dispatched to Carrow Mill. Someone was altering the junior class: they had been made docile; their passions extinguished. At the time, no one wondered why Moonset had been immune … ”

Council Investigation Report

Eyes Only

When I came back into the kitchen, Quinn was waiting for me. I bypassed him, went to the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of water. Why were the adults so hell bent on keeping us in the dark? They weren’t making it any secret that something else was going on in Carrow Mill, but they refused to tell us what.

“You should go check on her,” Quinn suggested, glancing towards the ceiling.

“Are you new?” He must be. Either new, or crazy. I grabbed my coat out of the front hallway closet. “I’m keeping my distance until she calms down. I’ll be over at Mal’s.”

“School tomorrow,” he said, almost sounding like a parent.

“You’ve met Mal, right? He loves a curfew almost as much as he loves school,” I called, already halfway out the door.

We hadn’t talked much about school. Or at all. The fact that it was tomorrow, and I’d forgotten, only proved how off kilter things were here. The weirdness of Carrow Mill trumped any attempt at normalcy. Sure, we’d done the normal kinds of school shopping—buying supplies, backpacks, the usual, but it hadn’t been any sort of priority.

Until now.

“Did you know school starts tomorrow?” I asked Mal as I walked into his room.

He didn’t even really need to answer. His bag was already packed and sitting next to his computer desk. “Is that a trick question?” he asked, looking up from whatever he was doing.

“You could have at least reminded me.”

Mal arched an eyebrow at me and closed the laptop. “Are we really going to talk about school right now? What’d she want?”

I shrugged. “We’re not ‘supervised’ enough. Supposedly, that’s why she’s moving to town.”

“She’s moving here? Can she even do that?”

“Is anyone really stupid enough to tell her she can’t? I have the feeling that the sun doesn’t even rise unless she wants it to.”

Mal crossed the room and closed the door. “I don’t think Nick’s home, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to look up that thing from the other day. The symbol?”

I perked up at that. “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But I know I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

“While we’re talking about it, what was that crap with Ash?” Mal looked confused, so I continued. “Interrogating her about the fire? Having her ask her dad? Aren’t you the one always preaching that we should blend in? That we shouldn’t call attention to ourselves?”

He snorted. “You’re just mad I wouldn’t leave you alone with your little girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Maybe I’m not the one that needs to remember that,” he said, suddenly serious. “I get that you like this girl and all, but you need to remember the situation we’re in. Odds are we won’t be here come prom night.”

“I’m not Bailey,” I snapped. “I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Do you?” he asked. “You should have seen your face after the mall the other day. And then at the coffee shop? You’re all blissed out on this girl.”

Where the hell was this coming from? Mal was the one who always had my back, and suddenly he was acting like a dick? “Are you jealous? What the hell, man?”

“Right, because I’d have to be jealous to think it’s a bad idea,” he snorted. “Get over yourself.”

“Then what is this? She’s just a girl.”

Mal laughed to himself. He crossed over to his closet, and began flipping through the clothes on hangers. Looking for something. Like our conversation wasn’t that important.

Something crashed downstairs.

In the aftermath, there was an audible silence. Both of us waited, listening, but there was nothing. “I thought you said Nick wasn’t home?” I whispered.

“I didn’t think he was.”

One of the doors downstairs creaked, a faint sound that we wouldn’t have heard if we hadn’t been straining for it. “It’s probably him, right?” I said.

“Of course.”

But neither one of us called out to check. Together, we crept out of the room and down the stairs. In hindsight, probably not the smartest move. It could have been another wraith. Or something else sent after us. Aside from the faint sound of our feet against the carpet, and hesitant groans in response to careful steps, the house was totally quiet.

As we reached the bottom landing, I tapped Mal on the shoulders and pointed down the hall.

Lights were on in the study, the door closed. But when I’d come into the house just a few minutes before, the door had been open and the room dark.

“Can you tell who it is?” Mal asked, glancing between the study to his right, and the path to the front door, to his left.

“You know all the same spells I do,” I said, trying to figure out if anything I knew would be useful here. Etheric maanu would tell me how many people were in the house. That wouldn’t help. Ethera maan could tell how far away they were. But nothing I could use to identify them.

“Yeah, but I don’t pay attention in class,” Mal responded, sounding aggravated. It probably annoyed him that he even had to ask. Magic was always his last resort. “If it was a wraith, it would have just blown up the house, right? Picked us up out of the debris?”

“Maybe,” I hedged.

He squared his shoulders and chose his direction. The study, then. I followed behind, grabbing the only thing handy that I could find. In a perfect world it would have been a baseball bat or a golf club. I had to settle for one of those blue-fringed Swiffer dusters.

I hefted the weight of it in my hands, already regretting the decision. Mal looked over his shoulder at me, smirked, and then pushed open the doors to the study.

The two of us went rushing into the room, me with feathered blue justice in my hands. Mal didn’t need a weapon of his own—he pretty much was the weapon.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mal snapped.

I had to step around him to realize who he was talking to. Jenna, half crouched behind the study’s desk, stacks of files and papers cleared out of the drawers and scattered across the top. She dropped a hand to her hip, rose even as her eyebrow arched at the Swiffer in my hands like a weapon. “What are you planning to do? Dust me to death?”

“What are you doing here, Jenna?” he repeated.

“Breaking and entering, completely ruining Nick’s attempts at organization, and general crimes against the crown, obviously,” she said blandly. “So either close the door and help, Dumb and Dumber, or go back to talking first downs and engines. Or whatever you boys talk about.”

“You can’t just go through all his stuff,” I said in shock.

“Well, I’d go through Quinn’s stuff, but they’re both over there right now,” she said reasonably. “It’s harder to snoop through someone’s things when they’re in the room.”

Mal sighed, then turned around and closed the door behind us. It was as good as giving

Jenna permission to continue. The moment the lock clicked into place, she went back to skimming through the files. “So you decided to break into my house? Why?”

“I’m done letting them make me a victim,” she said, moving from one drawer to the one below it. “They won’t teach us new spells? Then I’ll find them on my own. I’ll teach myself if that’s what it takes. But what happened back there will never happen again.”

“You’re looking for grimoires?” I don’t know what surprised me more. That Jenna would steal another witch’s book of spells, or that she hadn’t already done it before.

Grimoires, or spellbooks, were basically journals that most witches kept all of their magic in.

Because there were so many spells, and so many variations, most people needed a written record. It was difficult work—because magic was a language, written spells had power just as much as spoken ones. Spells had to be broken down into the lines, spaced apart like diagrams on how to copy a Chinese symbol.

Mal shook his head. “You can’t do this.”

“I knew you weren’t going to help,” she replied scornfully. “Come on, Justin, you know I’m right. We need to be able to protect ourselves. You’re the one who keeps saying that they brought us here for a reason. If we’re in danger, can we really trust them to make sure Bailey and Cole are safe? Or what about Mal? He refuses to defend himself.”

“I don’t need to use magic to defend myself,” Mal snapped. “And quit trying to spin this into a good idea. It’s pretty much one of the stupidest you’ve ever come up with. Going through the

Witchers’ things? Illana Bryer hasn’t even unpacked yet, and you’re already trying to get us in trouble.”

“And what are you doing? Sneaking around looking at weird fires and making the locals think you’re a freak?” Jenna’s lips curled dangerously. “You’re stirring up just as much as I am. But if

Saint Malcolm wants to solve a mystery and get a treat from his owners, that’s okay.”

I looked over the mess Jenna had made, and the pair of them bickering with each other. “Put it all back, Jenna.”

“You can’t seriously be siding with him,” she snapped. “You know I’m right.”

I tapped out a rhythm like a heartbeat against the floor. “One minute, or I’m calling Quinn and turning you in.”

She gaped at me. This wasn’t done. It was one thing to side with Jenna, or against her. It was another to side with the adults. Even if Mal disagreed with her, argued that she should have stopped, if we got caught, he’d have her back.

So for her to stare at me like we’d never met before wasn’t entirely unexpected. But she put everything back, if not exactly where she’d found it, then close enough. The tension in the room could have compressed coal into diamonds.

Just before she closed the last drawer, she looked up at me. “I don’t know who you think you are all of a sudden,” she snapped, “but whoever he is, he’s a dick.”

Twelve

“The Covens are not gods, and the Solitaires are not the working class. We are all fragile, simple creatures. When faced with tyrants, what can we do but tear them down?”

Sherrod Daggett (C: Moonset)

Unknown Date

I came downstairs the next morning to some sort of weird, Opposite World version of the

Brady Bunch. Mal and Cole were at the table, already half hidden behind huge towers of breakfast foods. Quinn was behind the stove and he was putting together something that could only be qualified as a feast.