Page 7 of Lunar Desires (Celestial Magic #2)

RILEY

I nside the blueness, I was ten again. My daddy crouched before me, handing me a ring box.

“Present for you, son.”

Blue. Blue. Blue. My daddy’s hair was black, brushing his shoulders, always curling at the ends. Not blue.

Everything is so blue, including me.

The current me battled with this childhood memory, caught in the middle and confused as hell.

Nothing new there!

“For me, Daddy?” I answered.

“Take it.”

I did, opening the black box to find a white-gold band, a single diamond sitting within a hexagonal nest.

“It’s so pretty!” I cried.

“And special. Really, really special.”

“Daniel?” I heard Mum’s angry voice call from upstairs.

Why was she angry?

Dad glanced over his shoulder at the stairs, then returned his attention back to me. “This isn’t just a present, son. This is a special treasure.”

I remembered him telling me.

“I love it,” I answered, plucking it from the velvet cushioning, holding it up to the light. “So sparkly.”

“Look after it,” he said, ruffling my hair. “You’re its protector.”

Wait. I’d forgotten that part. But, yeah, he’d said it.

Protector… My dad must have known about my true heritage as a sacred witch.

“I promise, Daddy. I promise.” I slipped the ring into the front pocket of my dungarees. “With everything I have.”

He pulled me into a hug, kissing my cheek. “I love you so much.”

“Daniel!” Mummy screamed. “You bastard! You bastard!”

Stomping, stomping, stomping.

“You’d better stay out of sight,” Daddy said.

“Why is she mad?” I asked, my bottom lip trembling.

I hated their arguing so much. So upsetting, so loud.

They did so much of it lately, but something happened between breakfast and now.

I mean, everything had been hunky dory, as Dad always said.

He’d cooked us all bacon, eggs, fried bread, and baked beans.

I’d enjoyed it so much, my stomach was super full.

An hour later, Mum collected the post and went upstairs. That’s when Daddy gave me the ring and Mum’s anger kicked off.

Mum had the worst temper.

“You dirty bastard! You dirty, lying bastard! Who is she? Who is your whore?”

Current Me grimaced at the word, Little Me’s chest fluttering with fear.

“Go,” Daddy said.

I obeyed, running into the dining room and hiding under the table, the tablecloth long enough to cover me.

Mum stomped down the stairs, calling my dad all the bad words.

“Let’s talk,” he tried.

I heard her slap his face.

Swallowing a whimper, I plucked the ring from my pocket.

Pretty diamond, full of moonlight.

“The moon’s in my hand,” I whispered, as the arguing moved away from the dining room door.

Their arguing became muffled, but I picked up on some choice words.

I clutched the diamond ring tightly, determined to hold onto my promise, tears tracking down my little face.

“Lunar diamond,” Current Me said, searching the blue for my dad—the one who’d being stalking me. “Where are you?”

He appeared before me, the table vanishing, Little Me gone now, taking the awful sounds of my parents’ row with him.

I stayed sitting, as did he.

With a swallow, I asked, “Are you really my dad?”

He nodded.

A jolt of sadness hit me, a flutter of palpitations echoing it. “I don’t believe you. My dad would never hurt me.”

He cocked his head. “Moon… Moon is son. Moon is path.”

Oh, God. Not this again. “What’s your game here?” I balled my hands into fists, more than ready to fight this thing, sorrow be damned.

I’d wobbled, let myself give in to my emotions. Allowed this thing to touch me and drag me into his crap.

Now I wanted out.

Now my sparkle glittered again, packing a violent punch.

You won’t have me.

“Moon is son. Moon is path.”

“What does that mean?”

I kept my rising fury at bay, biding my time. Better to fight him after getting some potential answers. Because, oh boy, did I need some damn answers.

He looked left, pointing. “Path. Path there.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“Moon mine. Son is Moon.” He swung his finger around to me, his face contorting, rippling. “Will have Moon.”

In the blink of an eye, he became the shade again. I gasped, fear like a kick in the gut. But I performed a backward roll, taught to me by Alice Bramble—the purest gym bunny of the triplets charged with helping us train.

I jumped to my feet, Aurora power singing in my veins.

You won’t have me!

The bite scar on my left thigh throbbed in remembrance of the night of the attack.

Damn the shade. Damn all of this. I wouldn’t fall apart like I used to.

“Moon!” the shade hissed, growing in size.

I smacked aside a tirade of memories of the attack, hitting him with my Tidal Pull power, wrenching him slightly forward, then flinging him upward.

“Moon!” he roared, hitting the ceiling.

Wait. What ceiling?

Molly’s secret room returned around me, the shade exploding in a puff of blue.

“Riley?”

Drake’s voice.

I faced him, his face covered with blood from a wound on his forehead, his expression twisted with pain.

Rejuvenating adrenaline flooded my system, my body teeming with energy, like a battery at full charge.

But my stomach rolled over Drake’s current state, my breath hitching. “What… Oh my God. You’re hurt.”

I never wanted to see him hurt.

“I’m alright,” he said.

“High Coven!” a voice barked upstairs.

What the hell?

“They’ve found us.” Drake moved closer to me, limping slightly.

Heavy footfalls pounded above, voices raised, danger imminent. On the TV screen, witchcops stormed the shop, searching every nook, pulling merchandise off the shelves. And they were coming down the stairs. It wouldn’t be long until they found the secret room.

If the witchcops arrested me, grilled me, they’d soon discover who I was. We couldn’t let such a can of worms lose its lid right now.

“You have to go,” Molly said.

I glanced at the goblin, her face also covered in blood. She limped over to the wall near the TV, running a finger along the pasted posters in five diagonal lines.

The lines of a door appeared, tearing the paper open. It slid inward, moving off to the side, revealing the first few steps of a staircase descending into darkness.

“High Coven!” a woman boomed from behind the other secret door. “Whoever’s here, come out with your hands up!”

“Go!” Molly hissed, sweeping her arm toward the staircase.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I have to defend my business.”

My face went hot with horror. “Defend it? Against them? You can’t fight witchcops.”

She smiled. “Not with violence, babycakes. With this.” She tapped her lips.

“I’ll talk my way out of this. Now, go. Follow the tunnel to the convenience store and be safe.

And don’t worry about this door. My rock posters are special.

They’ll reform.” She winked. “Oh. The phone.” She fished it from her pocket.

“Good. It’s still intact. There will be no signal below ground, but it’s best you take this. One less thing I have to explain.”

I took the phone, not liking any of this.

Drake gave her an understanding nod. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

“I know. Give me a call in a few days. Sorry about the shotgun. I really need to have another one down here.” She shrugged.

I didn’t want to leave her to face the scrutiny of the witchcops alone.

They’d really put her through it—torture was not outside the realms of possibility.

I’d heard many stories over the years, especially when it came to hunting shadow witches.

They always dodged the witchcops. Slippery, good at hiding—especially the Kingwoods.

Truth potion posed a risk too. If the witchcops used it on Molly, she’d give them our names and that would be it. Cat straight out of the bag.

Did I tell her my surname? No. I’d just said Riley. Right?

Oh. God.

“There’s someone here!” I heard a man cry.

Molly deserved better than this. She didn’t know me, asked no questions, just trusted Drake and gave me shelter.

“Come on,” Drake insisted, taking point.

Rather than languish in a pity party, I followed him onto the staircase.

Taking a pause, I looked back as Molly waved.

“Come out! Now!” the witchcop barked.

Please be okay…

The door slid back into place, plunging us into darkness.