Page 38 of Lunar Desires (Celestial Magic #2)
RILEY
O ur patrol began at sunset.
A bitter sea wind blasted the city, stirring litter into small tornadoes of trash, giving my face a continuous, briny slap.
“So cold,” I mumbled, dipping my chin into my coat.
Drake linked his arm with mine, being all sweet and caring.
I could get so used to this.
“A shame this didn’t kick off in the summertime,” Isaac complained as we walked Athame Crescent in the north of the city. An affluent area with big houses boasting fabulous gardens and lots of trees, a plethora of Hecate Crystals growing on every lamppost.
In the springtime, this road was a riot of colorful flowers and leafiness.
According to Stefan Rushden, it was also a potential spot for a Kingwood hideout. God only knew what led him to such thinking, but he wanted us to check it on his say so.
Erin didn’t see the point of arguing with him. Anyway, never make assumptions. The arsehole might be right.
Me, Isaac, Drake, and Jake inspected every house. Senses on high alert, more than ready for a clue to stop the Kingwoods hurting the city.
There were only a couple of days left until their deadline of me and Isaac being handed over.
Yeah, not happening.
Drake rubbed my arm, wrapped in the puffy sleeve of my coat.
My heart kept taking happy skips whenever he touched me.
And with every passing hour, my trace concerns about the speed of our romance faded into the ether.
Sometimes you just knew when something was right.
If it bit me in the arse later down the line, fine.
Whatever. At least I could say I made the most of the ride.
My dirty mind went off.
Naughty!
Ollie sent Jake a text to say he’d be with us in ten minutes.
Cool.
We walked the whole of Athame Crescent, finding nothing lurking between the parked cars or the impressive foliage.
Until the shade leaped over the garden gate of number thirty-six.
I yelped, jumping back. My palms heated with power, the moon symbols sparkling with blue energy.
The red-eyed creature hissed, hopping from foot to foot. “The Moon! The Sun!”
Isaac destroyed it with his shade-killing beam, the wind carrying its ashes away.
“Fucker,” my brother grumbled, the sun marks aglow on his skin.
Another shade appeared, behaving in the same manner. I dealt with it as a third appeared, then a fourth, then ten more.
Oh my God! They streamed out of number thirty-six’s garden, spreading across the road, blocking this end of the crescent.
Not attacking.
But we did.
Isaac and I blasted them to ashes, no shade horn going off.
Weird.
Ten more shades replaced the fallen. Hissing, still not attacking us.
What the hell? Something wasn’t right here. And why hadn’t the Radiance Pulse Cannons fired yet? Damn slow-moving crap. The High Coven seriously needed to fund the much-needed upgrade they kept banging on about. Along with replacing the shade horn of this area.
“What’s going on?” Isaac demanded from the shades.
They hissed back at him, saying nothing, crimson eyes flickering like flames trapped in their shadowy heads.
I glanced over at number thirty-six. The porch light on, the front door open, swinging in the wind. A pair of crimson eyes blinked to life in the darkness beyond, followed by another.
A scratching dread appeared in my chest. “We should get out of here.”
Isaac growled. “What? No way am I running from a fight.”
Don’t be cocky, I thought. “Let’s get off the streets and call Stefan. Shades don’t behave like this.”
I wasn’t an expert on their behavior, but my instincts fired several warning shots.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I gestured for us to go back around the crescent. Honestly, I didn’t fancy fleeing a fight either. Yet being smart took precedence right now.
Drake’s fingers lit up blue.
“Who are you looking for?” I asked.
“Stefan.”
My stomach flipped. Stefan? Did he think the High Inquisitor had something to do with this? He’d told us to come here after all.
Crap. Had we been played? No. Ridiculous. What would an inquisitor gain from messing with shades?
The passenger door of a white car beside me opened. Stefan’s bald head appeared, followed by a blue suit and a cold, unnerving expression on his pock-marked face.
Oh. My. God.