Page 3 of Lunar Diamonds (Celestial Magic #1)

RILEY

I came to in the staffroom, laid out on the battered, pink leather sofa. My head pounded, and my knees ached like my foot.

“Oh… God…” I mumbled, slowly sitting up, a nasty taste in my mouth.

“You’re back.” Carol stood over by the small kitchen area, pouring hot water into a Disney mug. Coffee? Tea? A hot toddy? I’d take all three with a shot of spiced rum on the side.

I forced my legs off the sofa, rubbing at the back of my neck. “What happened? Wait. Scratch that. I know what happened.”

Leaning forward, my head between my legs, I drew in some deep breaths. In and out, taking it easy, keeping the horrors of the day at bay.

“How are you feeling?” my boss asked, stirring the mystery beverage.

“Like there’s a rave inside my skull.”

“Nasty.”

I straightened, clocking a woman through the window of the staffroom door talking to Nina. A witchcop from the High Coven, dressed in the white uniform with blue piping, a blue beret crowning her head.

Officially, they were called Agents of the High Coven. But everyone called them witchcops seeing as they were basically magical police officers.

“What’s happening now?” I asked, stretching my limbs above my head.

Oh. Big crack in the right shoulder there.

“The witchcops are taking care of things,” Carol answered. “There did seem to be a delay with the cannon, which means I have a mountain of paperwork to deal with this afternoon.”

The Radiance Pulse Cannons were built to fight off shades. In the event of an attack, they were supposed to respond with a big pulse of magical energy to drive off the shadowy scum. Sometimes they were slow, in need of upgrading. But this pulse meant every cannon in the city would now go off in a chain reaction.

Good. And thank goodness the witchcops were here now. For the next week, as was the usual pattern, there’d be a big increase in their patrols.

Shades attacked for the love of chaos and slurping mortal blood. Kind of like vampires, but less glamorous.

I rubbed my knees, pushing the creeping images of the dead human woman and the goblin away.

So much blood…

Carol joined me on the sofa with two mugs. “Here. This will help with the head and the foot.”

I took the mug from her. “What is it?”

“One of those disgusting lemon paracetamol drinks.” She had black coffee.

My stomach roiled. I might not like the flavor one bit, but I always drank these lemon drinks whenever I came down with a cold. For me, they were a blessing as well as lemony torture.

“So, how are you?” she asked.

I took a sip, shuddering from the clash of sweet and sharp on my tongue. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, though.” She rubbed my back.

Her touch was nice, reminding me of my mum’s warmth. Well, when she was in a good mood, at least. I desperately needed to visit her soon. I’d been neglecting her a lot lately.

I sipped more drink. “None of us are fine right now.”

“True. But you know I worry.”

I did. Carol cared about every single member of staff here at Coldharbour Central Library—the biggest of three libraries in the city. A proper matriarch. She always made sure we were happy, safe, and satisfied with work. And raked us over hot coals if we behaved like arseholes, which was rare. We left that to the customers.

That poor goblin. Irrespective of the book lobbing, he didn’t deserve such a brutal ending.

“Are we staying closed for the rest of the day?” I asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes.”

I wrapped my fingers around the mug, watching the witchcop and Nina move away from the door.

Carol sighed heavily, grabbing the biscuit tin from the coffee table. “I have a day of endless meetings ahead of me. Risk assessments galore, all that paperwork.” She popped the lid of the Christmas tree shaped tin. “Pink wafer?”

“No, thanks.”

She held one up, inspecting it. “Where did these all come from?”

“Mrs. Green bought twenty packets for us as a Christmas present,” I answered.

Bless her. She was one of the loveliest customers ever. An elderly woman with an obsession with pink—from pink wafers to her pink rinse and all-pink wardrobe. And she loved true crime books. I’m talking so obsessed I think she wanted to be Miss Marple, but working in a gorier setting.

Carol nodded and dunked the wafer into her coffee. “You can go home after you’ve drunk that. I’ll get Nina to run you home.”

“I’ll get the bus,” I countered.

She scoffed. “Why? She’ll happily do it.”

“I’d like to make the most of my weekly pass.”

She devoured the soggy wafer in one, barely chewing it. “Perfection. Anyway, please let Nina take you home. I’ll feel better if you do.”

The staffroom door opened, Nina entering with a face full of thunder.

“What happened?” Carol asked.

The werewolf dumped herself beside me. “Shades slashed my tires.”

“What?”

“No tires. Car is out of action.” She peeked at my mug. “What are you drinking?”

“Toxic waste,” I answered.

Carol offered her some pink wafers, of which she grabbed a big handful. “I’m waiting for a mechanic to tow it.” She sighed, her hand closing around her pink bounty. The wafers crunched, crumbs sprinkling her jeans.

With limited parking, library staff who drove were forced to use the shopping center’s carpark. Only Carol and Steve, the deputy manager off duty today, used the two spaces outside the library’s backdoor.

“I’m so sorry,” Carol responded sympathetically. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You can brace yourself.”

Carol put down her coffee and the biscuit tin. “What is it?” Her forehead creased with concern.

I drank on, ready to hear the bad news.

Yuck. Such lemony hell.

“The roof of your car’s gone,” Nina said.

A strange silence fell across the staffroom. Carol stared at Nina, me caught between them. She blinked a few times, saying nothing.

“Carol?” Nina pressed.

Our manager’s throat bobbed. “My car?”

Nina nodded.

Another throat bob, her left eye twitching. “My. Car.”

I could almost hear the cogs of processing whir inside her skull. The best thing for me to do was get up, leave, and put this day to bed.

“My. Bloody. Car.” Her tone was smooth, yet unsettling.

She’d been so caught up dealing with the aftermath of the attack to even consider checking on her vehicle.

Poor Carol.

“My. Car.” A few seconds passed, and then she exploded. “My mother fucking car!” She jumped up, charging out of the staffroom like a bull enraged by a bevy of red flags.

“Oh dear,” Nina said, finally eating a piece of her destroyed wafers.

I finished the drink, the pain easing up. I gathered my stuff from my locker and headed to the library entrance where witchcops guarded the doors.

Wind howled through the broken windows. From the corner of my eye, I saw the goblin’s blood pooled on the carpet.

So much blood…

A witchcop let me out into the bitter afternoon air. The coldness in my lungs refreshed me, reminding me to breathe deeply. And I did, taking in greedy lungfuls.

Better. Much better.

There were witchcops everywhere, on high alert.

Ready to move and desperate for the sanctuary of my flat, I passed the smoking cannon nestled in a circular pebble garden, hurrying across the large square the library shared with the shopping center, a supermarket, and a family restaurant.

Pigeons scattered as I passed the fountain, a couple of witchcops cursing the birds.

Mystique Square had undergone an extensive, controversial redevelopment, transforming from a small square of boutique stores to this hub. Older buildings were torn down, including a popular pub. The residents of Coldharbour never stopped complaining about it these past seven years—I heard a lot of it from customers. But their grievances were ignored both then and now by the city council. They called it progress, and that was that.

“Get home as soon as possible,” a witchcop barked at me.

“Will do.”

I picked up my pace, heading for the far side of the square opposite the library where the bus stops were.

Understandably, there weren’t many people around right now, witchcops aside.

Soon be home. Soon be home. Soon be home, I repeated like a mantra in my head.

For a hot shower and plenty of snuggly blanket time.

A bang on my left made me stagger. I caught myself before my face hit the ground, turning to see the source of the commotion. My heart jumped into my throat, my bottom lip clamped between my teeth.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

Nothing more than the slam of an industrial bin lid down the pub’s service alley. There were witchcops down there, dragging things across the ground.

By Hecate, my nerves couldn’t take much more.

I walked straight into a man, my chest bumping his. I released a howl of fright, stumbling back, almost losing my balance again.

“Easy there,” he said, taking my arm.

What the hell!

“I’m okay.” I stayed vertical, unable to look him directly in the face as my heartrate steadied.

What an idiot. My cheeks were so hot from embarrassment I just wanted to teleport the remaining feet to the bus stop without having to discuss this any further.

“I’m really, really sorry.” I picked at my nails while staring at his feet.

Nice black shoes, with black trousers hiding beneath a long gray coat dusting his shins.

He released my arm. “Don’t be. No harm done.”

Wow. His voice was so clear, so rich. The audio version of a refreshing breeze on a stifling summer’s day.

Embarrassment receding, my curiosity was officially piqued.

Slowly, I lifted my head to see the rest of him.

Oh. Wow. Talk about handsome. I stared into a face chiseled to perfection, a jawline dusted with artful stubble for my fingers to trace.

Ahem.

Dark, mesmerizing eyes blinked at me. “Are you alright?”

Yeah, I was too busy taking in the incredible hues of his copper skin. His stylishly tousled chocolate brown hair was another creation for my fingers to enjoy.

If only…

Had a band started to play somewhere? There should be. Everything about him set my pulse on fire, the colors of the world coming at me in higher definition.

Breath officially stolen.

“Hello?” he said, waving a hand in my face.

Hecate, his hotness undid my sense of decorum.

“Hello?” he repeated as I basked in his dark gaze.

Give me a minute to drink you in some more…

I unlocked my aura lenes, his reading blue. A witch, just like me.

His bangle was hidden by the sleeves of his coat.

“I’m good,” I answered breathily.

Something about him made my heart skip several beats, the tension of the day taking a break in his presence.

Wow.

His smile lit up the January gloom. I basked in its radiance, aching all over from the intensity of his masculine beauty.

“You might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” I blurted.

Oops. Here came the burning humiliation in my face.

He chuckled.

“I’m so sorry!” I squeaked. “What the hell?”

“It’s not a problem,” he said soothingly.

“I… I…” I cleared my throat, cheeks even hotter than before. “Crap.”

“Thanks for the compliment. You’re not so bad yourself.” He winked.

Somebody catch me! “I… I…”

“Move along please, gents,” a witchcop ordered.

Damn crappy timing.

This glorious man nodded at the woman, then faced me again. With that smile. “Stay safe.”

His gray coat hugged him perfectly, tailored to highlight and hint at the muscular body hidden beneath.

A genius construction.

He went to walk away.

“Wait!” I called.

He paused, facing me. “Yes?”

“I, erm…” What the hell was I doing? “Thanks.”

He cocked his head slightly. “For what?”

“For not chewing me out.”

He chuckled. “There are enough problems in this world. Two men bumping into each other isn’t even on the list. Besides, I quite like bashing into cute guys.” He winked again and walked away.

I stood there gaping like a fish out of water, watching him leave, wishing I could talk to him for little bit longer. To study him more, to hear that amazing voice for a few more seconds.

But the witchcops were scowling, gesturing for me to move my arse immediately.

Dammit. There went the hottest thing to ever share oxygen with me.

As I waited for my bus, I daydreamed, enjoying my regular fantasy of moving to a quaint village to open a bookshop. One which also sold cookies, a place full of literary warmth and sugar. And I’d live nearby in some cute cottage with a hottie—now played by the guy in the gray coat. He’d kiss me every morning as I lay there bathed in glorious sunlight with no hair out of place, my breath fresher than mint. His eyes would sparkle, made for ogling me, and we’d head to a quaint café down the cobbled street for breakfast before I opened my shop, everything so perfect, straight out of a rom com.

Give me all the romance, all the gooey goodness. Right now. I could really go for some right now.

Maybe one day it’d happen. I was on all the dating apps, picking my way through the frogs to find some princes. Embracing my inner Snow White by the wishing well, dreaming about a prince coming by one day.

I watched too many Disney movies.

Hope was the perfect shield against the darker sides of life. It kept your feet on the sunlit paths, gave you a reason to wake up in the morning. A great remedy for any down days.

Believe in love.

Believe in the goodness of life.

Try not to regret failing to ask for the hot guy’s name and number. Damn. He would not leave my mind.

My bus arrived, packed with people. I flashed the fae driver my ticket and found a seat at the back beside a were-something, her aura orange. Without asking, I wouldn’t know what she shifted into it.

There were six unique auras in existence for each species in the world. Humans were yellow, witches blue, goblins green, vampires purple, were-creatures orange, and fae pink. Witches were usually obvious if their bangles were on show, as were goblins, for obvious reasons.

Aura lenses were mandatory, by order of the High Coven, so citizens were always aware of who they interreacted with. If you removed them outside of a replacement appointment, say hello to a heavy fine and possible incarceration.

There were flaws in the system. Much like the were-creature thing, I couldn’t tell what type of witch the woman two seats away was either. There were four types—sacred, scrying, shimmer, and the comparatively recent shadow. Not being able to detect a shadow witch could be problematic, but fixing these lens quirks was proving tricky for the High Coven at the moment.

Hopefully there’d be a better system implemented one day.

The bus turned onto the main stretch of road leading up to my flat. It wouldn’t be long now before I got under that hot shower, my skin tingling with anticipation at the coming spray.

The bus stopped to pick up a goblin and her two kids. A jolly woman, her children well behaved, the antithesis of the book-throwing goblin.

The poor guy. Arsehole or not, he didn’t deserve such a brutal death.

Next stop: home. Thank goodness.

I alighted the bus, hurrying to the entrance of my building. I lived on the top floor of a redbrick building at the top of a sloped road. Behind me was a massive housing estate bordering the edge of Coldharbour Downs—a popular scenic spot that’d once been an arena of bloodshed.

My flat provided fabulous views of the downs, and even the sea to the south of this coastal city. I often sat for hours taking in the view. It soothed me to no end.

My home. My haven. Waiting to embrace me.

As I crossed the threshold of my flat, relief came at me like a tsunami, forcing me to the floor. I sat with crossed legs, riding the high of home, and the high of the hot guy.

Until the weight of the day returned to slap me. All my fears came crashing down like hail. My hands began to shake, my chest choked with a tangle of vines.

“Oh, crap…” I rasped, trying to calm down.

But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t get there, caught in a nasty cycle of panic.

Concrete filled my limbs, leaving me on the ground, overcome with sobbing.

“Leave me alone…” I begged the anguish.

The scar on my thigh flared with the same white-hot pain as the night the shade bit me. It dragged me out of my sorrow.

What the hell?

I got to my feet, wincing through the rising agony, and yanked my jeans down my legs to expose the scar. Blue smoke replaced the usual red marks, tiny wisps curling up at me.

Disbelief got me blinking. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

A blue mist poured from the scar, trailing down my leg like dry ice. I touched it, recoiling from a painful spark.

Crap. I blew on my fingers, the burning sting the least of my worries. My leg really couldn’t take much more.

Spells would help.

The red light blinked on my bangle again, cutting me off. No threat detected.

My eyes watered from the stabbing agony, sorrowful tears on hold. I took a step forward, pain shooting into both feet, my headache blazing with hurt. I lost my balance, falling back onto my arse.

“Dammit!” I bit out.

The blue mist spread across the floorboards, the last wisps leaving my scar. It swirled into an expanding circle, bringing the temperature of my flat down.

Condensation escaped my lips with each hitched breath, my fingers numbing, a bitter sting reaching my bones.

“What’s… What’s… What’s happening?” I barely got the words out, the cold getting worse with each passing second.

My veins and bones filled with ice. Was this magic? Or a dream? I wasn’t sure, too wrapped in confusion to know how to react.

I tried standing, losing my footing from the painful flares. I yelled, grabbing my coat stand for support as I went down, taking it with me. It hit me on the head, then smacked the floor with a loud thud.

Ouch.

Tendrils of the blue mist licked at me from the edge of the circle, swaying like blades of grass in a breeze.

I managed to slide back, pressing my spine against my front door. “What are you?”

The circle swirled, a streak of inky black joining the blue. It swam around like an eel made of shadow.

“What are you?”

Nothing answered.

The temperature kept plunging toward frostbite. Any minute now, there’d be icicles on my ceiling.

Screw this. I reached for the door handle, not about to face down whatever nightmare the circle might be. In fact, there were people trained to deal with this crap.

I pulled out my phone, my trembling fingers too cold to do anything.

Oh. Crap.

“Help,” I whispered at it. “Help me…” I blew on my hands for warmth.

The circle changed, lifting into the shape of a cone, quickly changing and twisting into a floating orb of blue mist, the black eel swimming inside it as if it were an aquarium.

This had to be a nightmare. I’d passed out and summoned up some horror show.

But why did this cold feel so real?

The orb glimmered, bobbing in the air. “Moon is here. Moon is mine. Star cannot be followed. His light does not shine. Sun too bright, too bright, too bright.”

A voice like gravel sent shivers of terror racing up and down my spine. A man’s voice? I wasn’t sure. “Who are you?” I pressed myself harder into the door, tugging on the doorhandle with frozen fingers.

“Moon… Moon I shall be so soon.”

Yeah, not confusing babble at all. But I played along with the dream. “Who are you?”

“Moon. True. Moon of new. Moon.”

I managed to get a grip on the doorhandle, pulling it down so the lock popped open.

“Moon. Mine. Moon. Mine.” The orb expanded, inching closer.

The blue arsehole would not be touching me. One way or another, I was getting myself out of here, leg pain be damned.

Using the handle for support, I got myself onto my knees while screaming the flat down. I paused to gather myself, the agony in my scar bringing black dots to life in my vision.

“Moon. Moon. Moon.”

The orb’s light painted the beige door blue. Icy breath tickled the back of my neck. I glanced over my shoulder to find the orb deadly close. Tendrils reached for me, squirming to touch me.

“Go away!” I cried, yanking the door open. “Get?—”

A hand closed around my throat, someone outside my door. They crushed my windpipe, lifting me off the ground.

Blue light, blue light. Blazing so brightly my assailant was swallowed in it, hidden in the glare.

“A foolish roll of the dice and I pay the price.” It was the same voice as the orb coming from the strangler.

I kicked out, losing my strength, the cold overwhelming. My thoughts slowed, my breath cut off, darkness creeping in. The scar pain faded, numbing me toward the mercy of death.

Here comes the end.

Oh, God. I’m not ready to go…