Page 4 of Lunar Diamonds (Celestial Magic #1)

RILEY

I shot awake, clutching my chest with one hand, my phone clasped in my other. On the floor of my flat, still wearing my shoes and coat, wrapped in cold sweat.

“Crap…” I rubbed my breastbone, catching my breath.

I blinked, casting my eyes around my living room, anchoring myself to it. The same green-and-beige décor. The green couch, my TV, and triple bookcase I spent a small fortune on to house my precious book babies.

My home. Free of blue orbs and stranglers. It was just me on the polished floorboards my stepdad had laid for me.

I drew several deep breaths, reconnecting with reality. It’d been a dream. An incredibly believable nightmare, the bite of cold air still nibbling at my skin. But the pain had gone completely, aside from a soft tingle in my head and the fainter throbbing in my foot.

Once I was able to breathe again, I checked myself over and found my bite scar as its normal self. I got up, heading for the bathroom, sunlight streaming across the green and white tiles.

I inspected my neck in the mirror. No red marks from crushing fingers, everything as it should be, apart from my sweat-damp hair.

“Dammit,” I grumbled, washing my hands and splashing my face with warm water.

My diamond ring gleamed in the sunlight, forcing me to pause. Just for a moment, leaving me to think of my dad and his…betrayal.

I held the ring up, studying the white-gold band and the single diamond within a hexagonal nest. A gift from Dad, a treasure as well as a constant reminder of him leaving the UK for America to start a new family.

Cheater. Father. Terribly missed. Sometimes he wrote me letters, never emails or texts or anything like that. I always wrote back to plead for a video call or even a chat on the phone. But he never acknowledged those requests.

Mum, heartbroken over him running off with his secretary like a total cliché, simply called him scum. Nothing more. She refused to talk about him beyond cussing him out, grunting dismissively whenever I tried.

I should hate him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to see him again, as a man. I’d been ten when he’d left, standing in the doorway sobbing as the taxi drove him out of my life.

The moment the ring fit my finger a few years later, I never took it off. Happy to have a part of him with me all the time.

Okay. Enough of this. Time for a shower, a cheeky glass of spiced rum, and a nap. Today had been rough. An afternoon and evening of downtime would do me good. I might even slap on a face mask.

But what about that dream? Moon? Sun? Star? They were the components of sacred power, also known as celestial magic—the greatest magic in existence. Until the High Coven took it away.

Why would the blue thing be talking about that ?

Hmmm. The coat stand must have hit me harder than I thought.

Of the four branches of witchy power, shimmer witches were the most common, drawing upon the shimmering Hecate Crystals—the source of all magic on Earth. Without them, no witch of any kind could survive. They were like oxygen.

The crystals grew everywhere, a common sight across the world. There was even a cluster outside my bedroom window—three white shards clinging to the exterior of the building. Hecate Crystals fed magic, constantly gleaming, releasing their special gift into the atmosphere. A gift heavily filtered by the High Coven.

Scrying witches were rare, different. Magical, yet unable to use any magic other than their searching ability.

Sacred witches were born into their roles as a set of triplets from time to time, and only into the famous Aurora bloodline here in Coldharbour. Blessed by Hecate, the goddess of all witches, to fight apocalyptic threats with their incredible power.

Aurora triplets were a sign of a coming apocalypse, a warning from Hecate of a dark future that must be thwarted. Once the siblings reached their twenties, the deadly ball would start rolling.

As for shadow witches, they were classed as enemies of society, literally hiding in the shadows. Traitors, using their own brand of corrupted shimmer magic.

There’d always been shimmer witches causing trouble throughout the years. Some worse than others. Magic was a neutral energy, the intent of spell or potion a witch’s prerogative. But Kane Kingwood took it to the next level. He found a way to change magic, slaughtering fifty victims in a mass ritual killing to create shadow magic. Apparently, he poured that blood over some Hecate Crystals, corrupting them and the magic.

People like me weren’t privy to those details.

From there, he built House Kingwood and recruited thousands from around the world to his cause. He created the shades to boost his army—a real megalomaniac to his rotten core.

Kane was the apocalyptic threat for that generation of sacred witches. But the triplets of House Aurora failed to defeat him, the siblings too busy with petty infighting, tainted by their celebrity status. Fame went to their heads, along with their power.

Many lost their lives in the Battle of Coldharbour Downs, the High Coven had to step in to take down the Kingwood army. They succeeded, although the shades remained, as well as shadow magic. But it sealed the coven’s dominance, their power having increased over the years on a global scale. From then on, sacred power was deemed irrelevant, and House Aurora fell into disgrace, changing the course of magic forever.

The High Coven came down hard. They removed all grimoires from public access, implementing heavy magical regulation. They’d become that powerful, taking over the government completely. With no aggression, just a rapid transfer of power.

Within days, they introduced mandatory power-binding at birth—an injection administered into a witch infant to neutralize magical activity until puberty kicked in. From that point, seeing as the change in hormones counteracted the effects of the injection, the child was fitted with a witch bangle. For life. They suppressed magic, granting access to the three heavily diluted spells approved by the High Coven. Any attempt to remove the bangle resulted in a minimum of ten years in prison with hard labor.

Witchcops were given access to more spells to do their duty, but not many.

I traced a finger along my bangle, the surgical steel still warm, its red light dim.

How different things were before my time. Free to read grimoires, no heavy regulations, the world a super magical place. But maybe that wasn’t so great. I’d read true stories of dangerous witches, of spells gone awry. We didn’t have any of that now, living in relative peace. Shades aside, of course.

When the next apocalyptic threat came, the might of the High Coven would keep us safe. No chosen triplets born to save us all, probably sparing Coldharbour from being the epicenter of drama.

The Auroras refused to move into a less populated area due to the city being a holy site where Hecate blessed the first of their bloodline. But with that being dead in the water, the High Coven would probably be the targets now, and they had headquarters across the world.

Okay, enough of this. The blue thing was clearly a dream, brought on by today’s experience and my little breakdowns.

Time for a shower and a spiced rum.

My phone rang. It was Danny, a friend and the owner of the Glitter Fox Bar—my favorite hangout spot in the city.

They held the best karaoke nights. Always epic. Always healing.

“Hey, Danny,” I answered.

“Darling. What happened at the library?”

I told him.

“Good lord! Are you okay?”

“Nothing a nap won’t heal.”

Hearing his voice brightened my afternoon. It felt homely, like a warm hug.

“Do you need to talk? I can come over with soup and a willing ear.”

Ugh. I despised soup. “I’m fine. I just need to rest for a bit. But thanks for the offer.”

He sighed. “You take care, then.”

I read between the lines, the sigh barely hiding his disappointment. I knew Danny well enough to pick up on the signs. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Cut the crap and spill it.”

He laughed. “You see right through me. Well, we’re having a karaoke competition tonight. A last-minute thing Lee came up with in a moment of madness. Plastered it all over social media this morning. It’s gone mental. I’m surprised you didn’t see it on your break.”

Lee was Danny’s husband of twenty years.

“I didn’t see anything,” I answered.

Danny groaned. “We’ve been arguing all day about it because I said we shouldn’t do things so last minute. Of course, I’m the bad guy now.” He groaned again. “I was wondering if you’d could come along to cheer Lee up. You know how he loves your duets, and the event is duet themed.”

“I—”

He cut me off. “The Night of Duets. Obviously, you can’t compete with Lee because it’d been seen as favoritism. You’d be a warm-up act.”

“I—”

“But after what you’ve been through today, forget it. No one in their right mind would want to leave the house ever again after that. Or for a few days, at least.”

“Then you clearly don’t know me at all,” I retorted. “I’ll be there at seven. Assuming things kick off at nine?” These competitions usually did.

A brief pause.

“Danny?”

“You’ll come?”

“I will.”

He cheered. “You’ve spared me a migraine. Thank you. Yes, nine is the kickoff.”

Offer me karaoke on a silver platter and I’d be there with bells on.

“Sorry to use you as a buffer,” Danny added. “Again. And you don’t have to sing with Lee if you do want to compete.”

“What’s the prize?”

“A bottle of champagne and a twenty-pound gift card for Nando’s.”

“Put me down for friendly fire,” I said.

“You’re the best, Riley.”

“I know.”

He laughed. “And so modest.”

“Toodles for now.”

We ended the call.

For a moment, I reconsidered my decision. Going out tonight might not be a smart idea. Yet there was nothing better than being with your friends for drinks and a song.

Why should I hide in my flat, languishing in the horrors of this damn Friday? Why not end the day with light, leaving that nightmare on the back burner for a while?

Yeah. I liked that.

I’d been planning on visiting Glitter Fox tomorrow night, but I liked this better. In fact, I might even have two nights out in a row.

After a short nap, I showered, getting myself ready for a fab evening.

I fixed my hair with wax, coiffing it back, the silver streak I’d been born with a prominent slice through the black. Done with that, I changed into black jeans, a white T-shirt with a turquoise sequin dolphin on it, and slipped on my black leather jacket.

Nice.

I stared at my reflection, proud of myself lately. All my life I’d suffered from terrible body dysmorphia, which led to bulimia at sixteen. My eating disorder was under control now, but was always lurking beneath the surface, a constant dot of cruel light in the dark.

But I kept going, refusing to give that light any inches. With positivity as my sword, I knew I’d find my dreams waiting for me at the end of the rainbow.

“Keep your sparkle up,” I told my reflection.

Done with the self-chat, I spritzed on some cologne and, after one last inspection, I booked a taxi, more than ready for a night of fun.