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 . . .

---

I would have nodded, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to lift my head back up if it dropped.

“Check his wards. He’s not making this conversation private for his health.” I didn’t have to see the symbols burning in the air to know what they were. I thought I had some understanding of what drove Quinn now. If we could help him stop the warlock, he might not break faith with the

Congress, but he would skirt the line as much as possible.

“Why do you think the warlock doesn’t want you here?” Quinn asked. “Downstairs, you sounded confused.”

“Not the warlock,” I said, “something else. There weren’t just two voices I heard. There were a l ot. I knew they were talking to someone, but he didn’t say anything back. It wasn’t a conversation.”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “They were instructions.”

I would have nodded if I could. “They’ve kept saying, ‘They only need one.’ One of us. One of

Moonset’s children.” I turned my head as much as I could and looked at Quinn. “Why only one?

Everyone knows we’re a package deal. We can’t be split up. It doesn’t make any sense.”

The curse that was bound up between all of us meant we couldn’t be ripped away from one another, but the voices sounded like that was exactly what they wanted. It can’t be that easy. If it was, all we would have to do is wait, and the curse would eliminate the warlock and whoever was pulling his strings.

“The Coven bond protects you,” Quinn said slowly, “but that protection comes with a cost.”

Jenna crossed her arms in front of her. “What kind of cost?”

He held up one finger. “It’s easier for the Abyss to gain a foothold into a solitary witch because there’s only one mind to contend with.” He then held up both hands, and linked his fingers together. “A coven, on the other hand, has a bond that links them. It’s harder to infect a

Coven witch, because a group is stronger than just one.”

Jenna and I looked at each other.

“But there are weaknesses, too,” he continued. “If the Abyss can single out just one witch, and overcome him even despite the Coven bond, it gains an advantage in taking the rest of the

Coven. With each member it claims, that control gets stronger until the Coven succumbs entirely.”

“So you think that’s what happened tonight? The warlock sent some Maleficia out to try and take control of one of us?” Jenna asked.

“It would certainly fit,” he said. “But we still don’t know what, exactly, the warlock wants. The

Congress hoped that bringing you here would at least make that much clear. If we knew what he wanted, we could plan to stop him. But ever since you arrived, he’s been erratic. Confused.

We think the Maleficia may have broken him. And now it seeks a new host.”

“One of us,” I whispered.

“All of us,” Jenna clarified.

I meant to ask more, to find out more about what the Congress had in store for us, but I could barely keep my eyes open.

“Sleep,” Quinn said. “We’ll wait, and figure this out in the morning.”

Only there wasn’t anything to figure out in the morning. In fact, the rest of my suspension was a blur of books and boredom. Quinn warned me that I’d be sore for a day or two, lethargic and worn down because of the Maleficia attack. But he still expected his stupid essays.

Last night’s attack led to some changes, one of which was that while the other four were still allowed to go to school (there’d been some debate on whether or not it was safe), they had to arrive and leave together. In addition, all of us had to be home and indoors before nightfall, when the Maleficia was believed to be strongest. In the event of another attack, the Witchers wanted to make sure we were as protected as well as possible.

Which meant that my day was filled with constant interruptions as groups of Witchers in twos and threes walked through the house, examining weak points and bolstering the house wards.

Maleficia wasn’t supposed to be able to cross a house’s threshold, but they didn’t want to take any chances.

I stayed on the couch, because half the time I could barely keep my eyes open and I didn’t think sleeping at the kitchen table would end well. Gravity was a bitch, and the floors were hardwood.

I finished the first paper about the Coven Wars by the skin of my teeth, but as soon as I emailed the document to him, he came downstairs with another stack of books and my next assignment. If possible, these books were even dustier than the first ones. “I want you to write a report on how a warlock is brought to trial. How is a charge of invoking the black arts proven?

Talk about the trial, the investigations, and everything up until a guilty verdict. And then you can talk about how the process has changed in the last twenty years.”

I was waiting for a word count, but Quinn didn’t say anything further. “How long?” I’d max out on a thousand words before even covering half of what he was asking for.

“As long as it takes,” he said. “Be succinct. You should be able to wrap it up in … five or six thousand words.”

Quinn wanted the Never-ending Paper. Five thousand words was huge—that would take me at least a month! But I was too drained to argue. But surprisingly, the books he’d given me weren’t nearly as dry as the ones for the first assignment. Maybe the writing style was more modern, or maybe it was because the subject matter hit closer to home.

Coven trials were cruel, devastating processes that always ended badly. In comparison, the

Salem witch trials and the witch hysteria that gripped the world were passive, calm affairs.

Now trials were public affairs, open to any witch who wished to attend. An emphasis was placed on “innocent until proven guilty” and other modern conceits—with one main exception.

Moonset, the book explained, had been tried “in absentia” and thus their sentence had been carried out almost immediately upon capture.

It made sense, though. If there had been a trial, it would have been a circus. Sherrod

Daggett was charismatic and enticing. Putting him on the stand would have only done harm by giving him yet another platform.

The last day of my suspension, I felt a little better. I only slept about half of the day, and while I was still tired, I wasn’t as bone-weary as I’d been the day before. I worked on the paper at the kitchen table, spreading the research out.

Tucked in the middle of Quinn’s stack of books, I found one book that wasn’t dusty and unused. It was a copy of Moonset: A Dark Legacy —the definitive encyclopedia of the lives of our parents, from beginning to execution. It was full of personal letters, interviews, and trial transcripts that covered every aspect of their lives.

All of us had read the book cover to cover. Well, all except Bailey, I think. Jenna, Mal, and I had read it when we were still in middle school, sneaking copies out of our guardians’ houses.

We wanted to know more about who our parents had been. As soon as we were done, we all wished we’d never read it.

“How goes the slave labor?” Jenna asked as she came inside, dropping her school bag on the papers filled with notes I had spread all over the kitchen table.

“Not as bad as I thought.” I stretched, using the motion to shove her bag forward, away from my things. Yawning, I pulled the loose sheets back into a pile and stuck it next to the laptop I was working on. “How was school?”

“Monotonous. Until further notice—meaning until they hire a new sucker to take over the magic class—we’re all reading biographies of important historical witches. What’s the point of having magic if you can’t ever use it?” Sherrod’s spellbook was still in the garage. I couldn’t get it now, not with all the Witchers sniffing around the house. And I certainly couldn’t trust Jenna to take care of it. She’d take it for herself and abuse the hell out of everything she learned. I had to get rid of it somehow. The Maleficia attack hadn’t happened until I brought the book home. I needed to get rid of it.

But what if there’s something useful in there? What if you could use Sherrod’s magic for good? Wouldn’t it be worth it?

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts free. That was what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. Second guessing myself, and wanting to believe that there was something that our legacy could do to redeem itself.

“Justin? You okay?” Jenna had been more concerned lately, ever since the attack. Concern for others wasn’t a good look on her.

“I wish people would stop asking me that,” I said in annoyance. The sooner Jenna stopped acting like I was a fragile flower, the better. “Where are the others, anyway?”

“Mal went to the gym. Cole and Bailey are hanging out with the runt of the litter.”

“Who?”

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Luca. You realize it loses the humor when I have to keep explaining things to you.”

“How was I supposed to know he’s the runt of the litter. That’s not even accurate. There’s no litter!”

“You must be feeling better. You’re back to being tedious.”

I yawned. The words on the computer screen were starting to blur. I was halfway through a section talking about how Covens were charged as a single entity. If one Coven member was believed to be a warlock, they were all guilty of his crimes.

Did that happen with Moonset? Were some of them just caught up in Sherrod’s crimes? The

Moonset biography didn’t seem to think so. It made a point of singling out all six of the members and breaking down each of their crimes.

“Have fun with that,” Jenna announced. “It’s back to school for you tomorrow. Who wants to bet the science wing blows up before noon?”

Twenty-Three

“The tide turned when two of the remaining

‘Great Covens’ aligned and commandeered control of the resistance. Illana Bryer, a new grandmother, transformed into the most capable general any of the Covens had ever seen. Within a month, she’d beaten back Moonset on three separate fronts, and given the resistance the momentum it desperately needed.”

Moonset: A Dark Legacy

The science wing didn’t blow up. Neither did the main hallway, the gymnasium, or the auditorium. Everything was actually normal my first day back. The only change was that my last period was now a study hall spent in the library, since I couldn’t be trusted around the other witch kids. Quinn told me to keep working on his research paper, that for now it was the best use of my time.

I was so busy trying to catch up on what I’d missed and preparing for midterms that I barely got to talk to anyone all day. I only caught sight of Ash once in the halls, but the bell rang before I could track her down.

The weekend passed by so slowly I thought for a minute that time was going backwards. It wasn’t until Monday that our house had quieted down enough to sneak the spellbook out in the morning, tucking it into my book bag.

In lieu of any better ideas, I hid it in a locker at school. I asked for a hall pass to use the restroom, that way the halls would be mostly empty when I hid it. Only about seven hundred kids attended the high school, but there were enough lockers to support twice that. All the unused lockers had locks on them, but lucky for me that was one of the few spells I knew.

The unlocking spell only worked on certain locks—specifically the kind that kept school lockers closed. Each of the lockers in the school was numbered. Locker 666 would have been too obvious—that would have been Jenna’s choice for sure. I chose 999 instead, hiding the book in the bottom corner of the locker, and replacing the lock when I was done. With the book hidden, I felt like I could breathe again.

On some level, I think all of us were waiting for the other shoe to drop—for the warlock to make his next move. Only he didn’t. For a week, Carrow Mill was completely normal.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Ash said, appearing at my locker before the first bell on Friday.

“Not avoiding. Drowning. Missing most of last week totally threw me off.” I closed my locker door, and by unspoken agreement we started walking towards the stairs.

“Well, that’s what happens when you get suspended,” she said lightly.

“Maybe I’m just a rebel.”

Ash laughed. “Mr. French Vanilla is suddenly feeling rebellious?”

“Hey, I ordered a turtle mocha all on my own.”

Her eyes widened, and she fanned herself. “Stop, please. We’re in public. You’ll embarrass me.”

A week’s worth of waiting on the warlock’s next move had me feeling stir-crazy and reckless all at once. “Do you like movies? Like, watching movies? Maybe, I mean, tonight? With me?”

Oh God, what is happening to me? My mouth couldn’t trip over the words fast enough. I took a breath. She’s smiling, that’s a good sign, right? Or maybe she’s going to laugh? “I mean, would you want to go to the movies with me? Sometime?”

She was still smiling. “Like a date?” As if she were suddenly the coy ingénue. “Yeah, that would be okay. You could use a little spice in your life, doll face.”

“Doll face?” She shrugged in apology. “Does that mean I can call you a moll?”

Her eyebrows rose, and she half shrugged. “Hope you like scary movies,” she said with a wink. She turned back the way we’d come, and headed back down the hall. “They’re my favorite,” she called back.

I walked around in a stupor after that, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

“What’s with you?” Mal asked in Economics.

“I’ve got a date,” I said, unable to hide the smug tone in my voice.

“About time.”

I grabbed my Econ book out of my bag. I was actually caught up in this class, which was something of a relief. “With Ash,” I added, as if that needed clarification.

“I figured,” Mal said, his tone dry. “Where are you taking her? I assume she’s driving?”

“We hadn’t talked about that,” I said. I didn’t have my license, so that meant I’d have to ask for a ride. I turned around and faced Mal, giving him my best look of desperation. “We’re going to the movies tonight. Something scary, she said.”

Mal threw back his head and laughed. “That’s perfect.”

Uh oh. “Why is that perfect?”

He shook his head, and before I could press him further, class started. I spent the entire class trying to figure out what he meant by “that’s perfect.” What did he know that I didn’t? But no matter how many times I tried to turn and catch his eye or how many times I wrote on the back of my notebook, he ignored me.