Page 42 of Lunar Desires (Celestial Magic #2)

RILEY

O il slicked the bars of the cramped cage. Iridescent, slimy, and filled with power. It kept my powers on mute, filling my ears with a constant buzz and my head with intervals of thumping agony.

Whatever this stuff was, it kept me hunched and powerless, any escape attempts futile. My witch bangle light blinked amber as if to drive home the direness of my situation.

Damn shadow magic. By the time Marcus’s spell had worn off, I’d been dumped in this cage, missing any opportunity to propel him into something hard.

The cage hung from the ceiling, swinging gently under the glare of strip lights, exposing a large black room, its windows boarded up with wooden panels.

There were scuff marks across the grubby floor, along with smears that were probably blood.

And there was a bed, made up with black sheets, two plush pillows resting against the metal headboard.

God. This wasn’t good. Shadow witches used blood and murder to fuel their power, so, well, yeah. This could be one rocky ride.

Understatement in the extreme!

Isaac hung in an identical cage opposite me.

“Fuck this,” he kept grunting.

With a tangle of barbed wire in my chest, I plundered the depths of my mind for a solution to this nightmare. I found nothing, but did notice cameras in each corner of the room.

Under surveillance. Great.

We were screwed. We had no leverage, nothing to hit back with. Sold out by the High Coven, a helpless bird in a cage.

To top it off, Drake and Jake were missing.

Oh, God. What if they were dead? What if Marcus showed up with their heads on spikes? A terrible thing to even consider, but these arseholes were capable of anything.

Bile bubbled up my throat, a particularly nasty thump of pain rocking my skull.

They’re not dead. Drake is okay and you’ll hold him again.

It will be okay.

“You good, little brother?” my brother called over again.

I stabilized the beginnings of a spiral, drawing a circle on my palm. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he answered. “Give me a few more minutes to hit a lightbulb moment.”

Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands, I scanned the room again for a hint of escape, for something to tip these gloomy scales. There was a lever in the left corner, presumably to control these cages. Though I couldn’t see any sort of mechanism around.

One set of the four double doors around the room opened. Marcus Kingwood strode in, dressed in a black-and-red robe with the symbol of House Kingwood drawn on the front—a red circle surrounding a K. An onyx crown set with rubies sat on his head, the cut of the metal rough and jagged.

Oh. My. God. He meant serious business.

Rhianna entered next, wearing a black nightgown, waddling, clearly uncomfortable. She winced every step, six shadow witches in red-and-black robes guiding her onto the bed.

Marcus stopped a few feet away from his daughter, lifting his arms, his eyes on the ceiling. “And so it begins.”

Two more witches dressed in black jeans and jumpers entered the room, hauling a tied and gagged man across the floor. My heart paused its beating. For a moment, I thought the man might be Drake or Jake, but he wasn’t. My aura lenses still worked, giving me a yellow human reading.

My heart resumed with a putter, the horror not lessening.

This older guy with thinning hair, his clothes torn and filthy, was doomed if I didn’t do something. Clearly he had suffered under the brutal fist of these arseholes already.

Oh, God. I had to save him.

The man whimpered and struggled, but to no avail. The shadow witches dumped him at Marcus’s feet as another two witches joined the party. They were robed and bald, with the symbol of House Kingwood drawn on their skulls.

One carried a candle, the other a bundle of newspaper dripping with blood. In turn, they bowed to Marcus.

Candle Guy placed the chunky stick of wax at the foot of the bed, while Newspaper Man unwrapped the parcel, revealing a heart.

I gagged, grabbing an oily bar. My hand slid down it, a sickly touch landing on my brain. I pulled back, retching, feeling like I was travel sick.

Oh, God. Was it a human heart?

Newspaper Man placed the heart beside the bound victim at Marcus’s feet. He bowed, taking position behind the bed with Candle Guy, the rest of the witches forming a half circle around Rhianna.

“Are you comfortable?” Marcus asked her.

She glanced at me, sweat beading on her brow. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. Bring them in.”

Two more shadow witches dragged Agent Jake into the room through a different set of doors, and then another pair brought Drake in through the opposite doors.

My lungs worked overtime, my instincts to get to him landing my hands back on the bars.

Damn! Nausea attacked me again.

The witches dumped both men beside the human guy, demanding they stay on their knees. Their hands were bound behind their backs with rope, but not their feet.

Drake lifted his eyes to me, giving me a weak smile.

“Please don’t hurt him,” I rasped.

Without thinking, I grabbed the bars again, receiving the yucky kickback.

Newspaper Guy piped up, giving me a wave. “Silence, Moon. You are privileged to bear witness to a miracle. So keep your mouth shut and show some respect.”

Marcus drew an athame from his robes, holding it to the neck of the human. “The first toll of a human’s heart is paid,” he spoke, his voice a deep, unnerving resonance. “And now for more blood.” He slashed the man’s throat open so quickly I yelped in surprise.

Blood gushed from the victim, spraying Marcus’s robe. Magical energy bloomed in the arsehole’s hands as the human collapsed onto his back, head smacking the floor. He made a horrible gargling sound, twitching his way toward death, blood pooling beneath him.

I stuck my hand through the narrow gap in the bars, reaching for Drake. He wouldn’t be next. He wouldn’t die for their magic.

The oil overwhelmed me, forcing me into a slump. I pushed against it uselessly, my forehead coming to rest on the bars.

“Riley!” Isaac cried.

Marcus chuckled. “Silly Moon. I don’t need the blood of Drake and this agent. They are merely witnesses to a miracle. When this is over, they can go out and spread the word. Tell the world of this wonder, share the might of this house.”

Arrogant arsehole. And I trusted his words like I trusted not to burn my hand if I shoved it into lava.

The human drew his last breath, the magic in Marcus’s hands growing, coiling around his arms.

“At last,” he said, dropping the athame. “At last.”

Rhianna released a sound caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. Magic ignited on her belly, forming a ring of flowers with black centers, rotating in a circle. “Daddy, are you?—”

“Silence!” Marcus lifted his hands. “From The Sun and The Moon, I call to you. In the shadow of such a sorrowful sacrifice, I call to you.”

Sorrowful? Why? Had the human been important to him?

“In the name of my father, Kane Kingwood, I call to you.”

“In his name,” every shadow witch responded.

They seriously revered Kane Kingwood as some sort of deity.

Rhianna moaned in pain, her eyes wide. “Daddy…”

“Draw Essence!” Marcus roared, slamming his hands together.

Magic slammed into me, my pulse quickening as my spine bent backwards. My jaw opened, followed by the sensation of fingers sliding in. Deeper than physically possible, feeling their way down my throat.

Searching…

I didn’t choke, stock-still as they probed around in my chest, close to my heart.

What are you looking for?

The fingers locked onto something, then shot out of me, leaving me gagging and choking in the aftermath of their assault.

I heard my brother do the same.

What happened? Did the arsehole use a spell to take our powers? I called them, despite the oil. Found them there still, locked in an oily box.

Wiping tears and snot from my face with my T-shirt, I blinked away the blur in my vision, observing the next stage of this nightmare play out.

A small ball of sunlight blazed in Marcus’s right hand, while a sphere of moonlight shimmered in his left.

“Sun and Moon!” he cried. “Sun and Moon!” He moved toward his daughter, placing both hands on her belly. “Join with me, vessel of hope. Join with me. Feel the essence of The Sun and The Moon. Connect to it. Be at one with it.”

“Join. Join. Join,” the shadow witches chanted, their hands pressed together in prayer.

Rhianna groaned, her teeth bared in a grimace.

I couldn’t formulate a thought, aghast at the power of shadow magic, and the brutality of its spellcasting.

This house must fall…

“The Sun and The Moon give life to hope,” Marcus said. “The blessed magic shall join with the vessel. Do you feel it, daughter?”

She sniveled out a yes as the balls of sun and moonlight energy seeped into her. She lit up like a Christmas tree, magic spreading across her body as white light.

She let out a cry of pain, screaming for her father. The bed shook as she struggled against him, her legs kicking out.

“Daddy! Please!”

“Feel the power, my darling daughter!” he cried. “It flows! It expands! It feeds!”

Rhianna screamed again, terror in her face.

Marcus pressed down harder, three witches surging forward to hold her down.

“The vessel will be still!” a woman cried, holding her by the head.

Rhianna spat in her face. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Marcus tilted his head back, his eyes closed. “Hush your mouth, daughter. Unless you don’t want to keep your eyes.”

Wow. I didn’t care what happened to her peepers, but what a thing to say to your child.

Rhianna settled down, sobbing quietly.

Oh, God. What sort of hope was this kid going to be for the Kingwoods? Some version of the Anti-Christ for shadow witches to worship?

What power would Marcus’s grandchild possess? He seemed more enthusiastic over this child coming into the world than its mother. I guess being held down while in labor wasn’t the most pleasant method of giving birth.

Rhianna’s bump pulsated, those magical flowers puffing into sprays of petals, swallowed by the white light.

“Come to me,” Marcus said. “Come to me with your hope.”

“Be born,” the witches chanted. “Be born for our lord. Be born for our lord.”

“Come to me! Come to me!” Marcus removed his hands, a witch handing him his athame.

A witch tore open Rhianna’s gown, revealing the swollen, rippling flesh.

Oh. My God. What the hell was going on?

Marcus drew the blade across his palm as he spoke again. “It is time. It is time.” Blood ran down his arm. “Come to me!”

The candle blew out, a warm wind blowing through the room.

Marcus touched his daughter’s belly again with his bloody hand. She convulsed, the witches holding her down as she thrashed and screamed for mercy.

He held onto her, the white light expanding, pouring over the sides of the bed like milk.

“Come to me!” he roared, lifting the athame. “Come to me!”

Rhianna screamed as a beam of light exploded from her belly, tearing a hole through the ceiling. Debris rained down on the room, dust and stone smothering the bed and everyone around it.

People coughed on the cloying dust cloud, cold air flooding the room. The beam remained intact, sending rings of energy to the sky. Static electricity lifted the hair on my arms.

By Hecate, my brains were spaghetti, splattered against the wall.

What the hell was going on?

Something appeared in the light. A figure descending as slowly as a feather. An alien abductee in reverse.

“Daddy…” I heard Rhianna rasp. “Did it…did it work?”

He beckoned to the figure. “Yes! Come to me! Come to me!”

That wasn’t a baby, it was more like a grown man.

“Come to me!”

The figure broke out of the beam, drifting to the ground, wrapped in a glittering robe of woven starlight.

My stomach lurched, my eyes clearly playing tricks on me.

No. I refused to accept the scene playing out down there.

No. No. No.

The man with platinum blond hair and blue eyes landed before Marcus, his arms by his side.

No damn way. This wasn’t possible.

“Preston,” Marcus intoned, taking hold of his shoulders. “My darling Preston.”