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 … ” And then I faltered. This wasn’t like trying to convince a principal not to expel us. This was worse. “We can’t be held accountable for something we didn’t do, unless you hold him accountable for the things he did.”

“And what is that?” Alexander asked.

“He kept the children in their last home and waited until a wraith attacked before he pulled them out. He’s shown a consistent disregard for their lives and health, and each one of you already know it. My grandfather spearheaded the campaign to bring the children here, all under the excuse of seeing what the warlock would do,” Quinn said, both his hands behind his back.

“That’s a violation of the law.”

“Bringing us here set into motion whatever Luca was planning,” I added. “The Harbinger that died did so because of the Maleficia. Isn’t he responsible if he makes choices that cost others their lives?”

Quinn didn’t volunteer anything else, and everyone stared at me, waiting.

“Is that everything?” Alexander asked, his fingers steepled in front of him.

I swallowed. “I know that you’ve been lying. All of you. Moonset stopped one of the Abyssals here once, and you covered it up. It’s name was Kore, and everything that Luca did was because the other Abyssals wanted revenge. Which they might have gotten since you brought my family and me here.”

The earlier silence exploded outward, as a dozen of the most powerful witches left in the world were united in a growing din of questions, condemnations, and dismissals. What was most telling, however, was that not one of them was silent.

“ENOUGH!” Robert’s thundering voice boomed across the table, and cut through the commentary like a knife. “Enough,” he repeated, his voice growing quiet but still just as firm. His eyes beaded up from across the table, his earlier contempt replaced with a newly stoked rage.

“You know nothing,” he spat.

Illana stood up, her back like a steel spike. “The Prince led Moonset down the path to darkness,” she said stiffly.

“Then why does everyone say Robert Cooper and Eventide were the ones to kill her?” Ash demanded.

“Who told you all this?” Robert trumpeted in a moment of quiet. He looked strangely smug all of a sudden.

“Luca,” I replied automatically, my guard up. “Before he died.”

“Convenient,” he replied, dragging out the word. “Although the boy hasn’t died,” he said, clapping his hands together. There was an implicit “yet” at the end of his words.

“What? But you said—”

“We said that your family and the girl were unharmed,” Illana provided. “But Luca Denton’s condition is a bit more … contentious.”

“Another tragedy for that poor family,” one of the women near Illana said under her breath, pressing a handkerchief against her lips.

“I think we’ve heard enough,” Illana said. “It’s clear what must be done, for the safety of our families.”

“Finally, you come to your senses,” Robert muttered. I don’t think he meant for anyone else to hear him, but we all did. “Once we move past the boy’s baseless accusation, we can decide how to proceed with their sentencing.”

“Are you mad?” Illana was taller than her husband, I realized. It was also clear that their marriage wasn’t full of sunshine and crossword puzzles. “You cannot bulldoze this through as you might once have, Robert.”

I started to smile. “The law is the law.”

He didn’t like that very much. “We are the law,” he replied coldly. “You are an inconvenience.”

“But the law protects me. A coven leader has the right, or rather the obligation, to lay a charge of Maleficia if he knows it has merit.” Thank god I read all those books while I was under suspension. “And the charge can’t be dropped just because you don’t like me.”

“Laws can be changed,” he said, his eyes growing more narrow by the moment.

“That’s enough, Robert,” Illana said, sounding exhausted. “The boy is right.” And then I was on the receiving end of that patented Illana Bryer death stare. “Completely inappropriate though he may be, he is also right. You cannot charge him without proving your own guilt. Any crimes he committed only occurred because he was brought to this town, and into contact with these people.”

“What say you?” Alexander asked, looking around the table. “Eventide arranged for the children to be brought here, hoping to draw the warlock out. Which they did, and with minimal casualties. Like it or not, they helped stop the warlock.” And then he waited, but no one else spoke up, no one offering a protest. “I think that’s your answer, Robert.”

Robert Cooper didn’t say anything.

“Then if we’re done here,” Quinn announced, “I’m taking my charges back home. If you plan to interrogate them, you can send someone to the house.” After a moment’s consideration, he added, “Tomorrow. After noon.”

“I’m not done yet.”

Quinn gave me a death glare of his own. “Justin.”

“No. They need to hear this.” I turned from him to address the rest of the Coven leaders.

“We’re not them. And you need to stop treating us like we are. Things need to change. We’re not Moonset the next generation.”

Illana cleared her throat. “We’ll take that under advisement. Now then, if that will be all,” she said as she indicated the door.

Quinn led us out of the office, but before I could follow after the others, a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned, facing Illana.

“You don’t tease the hornet’s nest as much as you destroy it, do you?”

My forehead knotted up, and I glanced back into the conference room to see him staring at the two of us. “I can see why Quinn thinks your husband’s a dick.”

There was choked laughter coming from behind me, but Illana’s face remained smooth.

“Robert may not be the most … impartial viewpoint where you all are concerned,” she said, choosing each word carefully, “but he acts as he does out of precaution.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, exhaustion starting to settle in. I don’t know why I thought I could convince Illana, but part of me did.

Her lips thinned. “Don’t overestimate yourselves. You won two victories tonight. But along the way you broke so many rules, violated trusts, and acted completely inappropriately. In my day, children would never speak to their elders like that.”

“Maybe we’ll teach him some manners,” Quinn interjected. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Illana stared at me, one of those hard stares that made it impossible to look away. “Just remember something,” she said softly. “Your parents did great deeds once, too.”

Thirty-One

“You piteous wastes did not take my life. I gave it.”

Sherrod Daggett Final Words

“It’s going to take me at least an hour to wash out my hair,” Jenna said, hand on her hip. The five of us had reunited at the front of the school, staring out the glass doors. Mal’s hair was limp and hanging down over his eyes, and both Cole and Bailey looked wiped out. Bailey had been crying, and even Cole’s eyes were a little red.

But they were together. All four of my siblings. Something inside me loosened, finally seeing for myself that everyone was okay. I looked to my left, and saw that Quinn and Ash had wandered farther down the hall, giving us a moment of privacy.

“I think things are going to be different now,” I said.

Cole looked up from under his bangs. “No more secrets?”

Mal straightened. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe Cole’s got a point. Remember, we’ve got to be in this together.”

Jenna shrugged, sighing. “Do we really have to get all sentimental and in touch with our emotions?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Bailey laughed.

There was just a moment, where we were all smiling and looking at each other. Then just like that, it was over, and everyone followed in Quinn’s wake. “We’ll see,” I said.

Bailey hung back, grabbing my arm. She was worried, but serious. “It’s not over,” she said.

“What’s not over? We stopped him, Bay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She bit her lower lip. “I know it’s my fault.” I tried to argue, but for once she didn’t back down.

“It snuck inside me, and most of the time it was like I was sleeping, but every once and awhile

I’d wake up. I could see, but I couldn’t do anything. But I saw Luca cut himself. I saw him offer the blood. One of them escaped. He’s here now.”

“Who is?”

Her eyes got wide. “The Prince.”

One of the Abyssals had escaped? My heart thudded once—hard—and dropped like there was a sudden influx of gravity. “Are you sure?”

But Bailey didn’t have time to answer. Ash suddenly appeared, and linked her arm through mine. “Come on, hero, I’ll give you a ride home.”

We caught up with the others, who were waiting at the side entrance of the school. Quinn eyed the pair of us, focusing on our entwined arms. “Follow right behind me.”

Ash rolled her eyes. “Right, like I’d kidnap him looking like this. Have you met me? I could do so much better.” Ash dragged me away, heading towards the side entrance while Quinn and

Jenna headed for the rear. She dropped her arm the moment we stepped back outside.

“Get rid of it,” she said, turning on me before the door had even finished closing. “Throw it on the roof, in the garbage, I don’t care.”

“Get rid of what?”

She stared up at me. “You know what. I don’t know when you found time to get it out of my car, but if they find it on you, you won’t get to bluff your way out of what they do to you.”

The spellbook. Of course. “I left it in your car,” I said, starting to panic. “I didn’t get a chance to sneak it away. They had someone watching us the minute we woke up.” She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “That’s not funny, Justin. The book isn’t in there. I checked. ”

“Then you made a mistake,” I said, moving for the parking lot. Before we even crossed into the actual lot, Quinn’s black SUV approached.

He waited just ahead of us while we got into the car, and though I tried to circumspectly look for the spellbook even with him sitting right in front of us, I didn’t see any sign of it. And I couldn’t start digging under the seat until he pulled away.

“Just drive,” I said, squirming down in my seat and feeling in all the gaps between the seat and the console.

But the book wasn’t there. Neither was the bag I’d brought along with us. All of my stuff was gone. Even Quinn’s athame. “So what happened to it?” Ash said, her voice low as if Quinn would be able to hear her from fifty feet in front of us.

My fingers brushed against something, in the spot where the spellbook had been. Thin, like paper, but harder. I trapped it between two of my fingers and pulled it up. The postcard that had been left in the book.

Something about it didn’t look right. It was still the Golden Gate Bridge, with a glimpse of San

Francisco in the background. But it’s not the half of the postcard I had before. I flipped it back over. Two words were written on this half.

Well played.

Another wave of cold swept up my spine. The spellbook was gone. Bailey believed one of the

Abyssal Princes had escaped. Sooner or later Robert Cooper was going to pop back up wanting revenge. And Cullen Bridger, the last living link to Moonset, was sending me congratulations.

I glanced across the car at Ash, whose face was screwed up in concentration and exhaustion. It had been a long night, and tomorrow might be longer still.

“I think you owe me a makeup date,” I said.

THE END

About the Author

Scott Tracey (Avon Lake, Ohio) lived on a Greyhound bus for a month, wrote his illustrated autobiography at the age of six, and barely survived Catholic school. His gifts can be used for good or evil, and he strives for both for his own amusement. Witch Eyes was his debut YA novel.