The Frozen Moon: Book Two of The Living Curse series + BONUS Full Version of Book Three! (5 page)

             
The urge to rub her eyes grew with each passing moment; she longed to wipe the eyeliner and mascara away, especially the silver sparkles which matched her dress.  The only part of her ensemble that felt comfortable to her was the concealed weapons; she was laced to the throat with them, carefully hidden behind the façade.  On her finger was a silver ring that easily became a throwing disk with horrific precision and sharpness.  The circlet on her upper arm could be willed into a thin long sword, one of her favorite weapons.  These two could be converted through the channeling of magic, much the same way that she enchanted her usual sword.  Partially just for amusement and the cliché effectiveness, a thigh sheath on her right leg cradled two daggers the length of her forearm.

             
Looking in the mirror, she was genuinely surprised to see that she looked rather attractive; she felt rather attractive too, something she hadn’t felt in a while.  Her parents had used to make her wear makeup, but since leaving them, she hadn’t.  The feeling of it was strange, as she was now more used to her face being smeared with foreign blood.  The strangeness of her appearance now was not lost on her.  The danger lurking beneath the skin of her innocent appearance reminded her of Shakespeare’s Lady Macbeth, and some of her famous words:  “Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under‘t.”

             
Mira, entering the dark room behind her, looked ravishing in green.  The earthy tone glowed against her sun kissed skin, outlined by the golden brown ringlet curls that spilled down her shoulders.  The front of her hair was pulled back with pins of gold, matching her heels and delicate dangling earrings.  She liked to wear heels to compensate for what she lacked in altitude.  Her vibrant green eyes were topped with eye shadow: an earth tone blend of colors.  It had been a long time since she had seen Mira looking so gorgeous, though her natural beauty was always apparent.  She had outfitted Mira similarly to herself: the gold pins and bracelets she wore were more dangerous than they appeared at first glance. 

             
The music was blaring, the pulses of the dance track beating through her body.  Thin, lanky bodies swelled and receded in a tangled black sea around her.  The party consisted mainly of vampires, as Gwen had told them, but among the delicious chaos mingled werewolves, half harpies, faeries, nymphs, dryads, and god only knew what else. 
Damn
, she thought, the faeries and pixies would be dancing all night; they really knew how to party.  She stood now against a wall coolly, watching couples pass arm in arm, laughing.  She wondered then, as she often did, if she should try to have a relationship.  She stifled this thought promptly, as she always did.  The others were standing in a group about ten feet away which, in the dark and loud room, may as well have been ten miles.  Gwen and Max talked while Talar scanned the room and Mira chatted with Wyd.  Her eyes sparkled in the low light, and Nameh watched with amusement at the way Wyd stared, clearly uncomfortable and enthralled with her.  He tried his hardest to play it cool, but failed miserably; instead, he simply avoided eye contact nervously.

             
A voice surprised her, nearly making her jump.  “Hey,” it said in a friendly tone.  She turned to see that a boy now stood leaning against the wall to her left.  He was dressed far too casually for the party, but seemed not to notice or mind.  He was Asian in descent, like Wyd, but she guessed from a different region based on his facial structure.   His dark hair fell down to just above his eyes from beneath a black baseball hat covered in silver symbols.  Square black glasses rested on his nose; they suited him well.  Everything about the boy except his skin was dark, from his hair and eyes to his D-street t-shirt and long shorts.

             
Despite his dark appearance, his smile was warming, and his eyes emanated vitality; something she immediately liked and envied.  He seemed uncaring and altogether happy; something she could hardly remember feeling, like a distant dream.  But simply standing near him was bringing that feeling back to her slowly, like warming frostbitten hands near a roaring fire.

             
“What’s your name?” he asked.  She hesitated for a moment, thinking she ought to give him a fake name, but couldn’t bring herself to lie to the boy.  This confused her; she often had to lie to protect her own safety, and rarely thought twice of it now.

             
“Nameh.”

             
“Cal,” he said, extending a hand.  She took it with her usual firm grasp.

             
“Pretty crazy party, right?” he continued in his pleasant voice.

             
“Yeah, but that’s what happens when the Upperworld holds interracial parties.”  He laughed understandingly, and she noticed that he lacked the pointed teeth of a vampire.  He didn’t strike her as a bloodsucker, though, the vitality he possessed was impossible.  Apparently noticing her studying his teeth, he put her mind at ease.

             
“I’m not a vampire,” he laughed, “I’m a Markbearer.”  His words astounded her, she couldn’t sense an inkling of his presence, and Max hadn’t said anything either as they entered the party; he should have known.  He responded again to her baffled expression.

             
“Shields,” he said, holding out his hands as if she could see the force spun around him.  “Since the raid on the Vine downtown, I’ve been trying to sense others.  It’s hard here, though, too much magic in a concentrated area.”

             
“Then how could you sense I was a Markbearer?”  He gave her a coy smile,

             
“It was pretty easy to tell: you’re standing by yourself, but you didn’t come in alone, and you have a ring similar to this one.”  He held out his right hand, one of his slender but strong fingers was encircled by a ring of brushed silver, which she now imagined to be some sort of weapon as well.

             
“Are you alone?” she asked, “I mean, did anyone else make it through the raid?”

             
“Three others, they’re here with me somewhere.  Seth, Gwen, and Eve.”  At this, he scanned the room, giving up after a futile effort in the dark.

             
“Gwen was the one who brought us here.”

             
“Ah, Eve’s her sister, and Seth is a friend.”

             
“Then, you’ll be going after the Relic, right?”

             
“No, actually.  We got in touch with the Vine in Detroit, and we’ll be headed up there soon.  Why, are you going after it?”  He tilted his head slightly, indicating he thought this an obscene notion, but was impressed at the prospect.

             
“Keep it quiet, but yes.  Do you know anything about the Great Warlock’s death that might help us?”  Her forward questioning surprised even herself, but she saw no point in skirting around the issue; either he did know something helpful or he didn’t.  He thought for a moment, considering her words.

             
“Well, he’s not exactly buried, because they never found his body, but his memorial isn’t too far from here.  They say it’s placed where the Great Spark was supposed to have taken place.  Legend also has it that the clues to finding the Relic were left at the memorial site by his closest confidants, but I doubt it, considering no one has ever found anything of use.”  He spoke using his hands, a characteristic that made talking to him more enjoyable.

             
“So the headstone just has what, a bunch of coded messages or something?”

             
“One, actually; it’s something about an angel’s embrace, just a cryptic mislead if you ask me.”  He seemed passive, as though this was old information he had already formed an opinion about long ago.

             
“At least it’s somewhere to start.  Thank you.”  She lingered a moment, enjoying the boy’s company.  Before she could turn to leave, a second boy approached from the side.  His eyes were a startling blue, a shade darker than Max’s, with flaxen hair a shade lighter.  He had sharp features and an air of confidence that immediately annoyed her.  Cal introduced the boy as Seth, and the three engaged in meaningless small talk.  The concept of light conversation had always seemed inefficient to her, though it often proved necessary.  The second boy’s voice was deep and rough in a likeable way, and his blue eyes were nearly disarming when he stared with an unbroken gaze.  His conversation shifted to light quantum physics; a curious topic choice, but interesting nonetheless.  He seemed to be packed with a strange assortment of knowledge, something she enjoyed, but displayed it with that same bothersome confidence.

             
“So, we’re not the only ones left; that’s good to know,” said Seth, now tiring of the anomalies of the known universe.  “Are you coming to Detroit with us, then?”

             
“No, they’re going after the Relic,” said Cal in his bright voice.

             
“Oh, breaking the rules?” asked Seth slyly with a slight smile.

             
“Not technically.  See, no one ever told us
not
to go after the Relic, and going to Detroit won’t get us any closer to defeating the Guild.”

             
“So, if no one ever told you
not
to become an axe murderer, it would
technically
be okay to do?”  They all laughed at the comeback.  Nameh paused to laugh as well, but was quick with her own retort.

             
“Perhaps not…but I believe that when bringing the scenario from ‘taking orders from the Vine’ to ‘axe murderer’, something gets lost in translation.” 

             
“Well, if you ever need any help with axe murders, or finding the Relic for that matter, give us a call.”

             
“Maybe I will; thanks.”  She gave a thoughtful glance around the room.  “Wait, wasn’t there one more in your ‘troop’?”

             
“Yeah, Eve should be around here somewhere,” Seth searched the crowd of tumbling dancers.

             
“There she is,” began Cal, raising his arm to point off to the right.  “She’s with Gwen.”    Nameh’s eyes followed his arm to the girl now standing among her friends next to her sister.  There were clear resemblances between the two, but where Gwen had straight brown hair, Eve’s fell in huge loose curls.  Their eyes were also contrasting; the ghost blue of Gwen’s eyes against the pale brown of her sister’s.  She had a similar joy in the way she held herself as Cal, but not as pronounced. 

             
“So there’s the mysterious fourth party member,” she said pensively.

             
“Yeah, she and Gwen usually stick together.”  A faint ghost of a memory crossed his face, emotion flickering like a candle flame; gone before even noticed by most.  There it was, she thought: the real person hiding behind the witty comments and air of confidence.  There was pain and emptiness that she knew all too well, it was then that she decided she did like his arrogance; much like her own fronts, it was easier for him to bear than the alternative.  She thought of the pain which had caused her to build a shell of a person around herself: watching her brother die, leaving her family, Daniel…the reasons continued on.  She shut out these memories, but they continued to encroach on her thoughts throughout the rest of the night.  Was Seth fighting the same battle at the moment?

             
Although she longed to stay and observe Seth more, to uncover his past and analyze him as she so enjoyed, she knew she must go.  She left the two boys with promises to stay in touch, though she doubted any of them would.  Faces in a crowd, she supposed.  Rejoining the group, she noticed that Eve and Gwen had gone.  She retold Cal’s story, and the consensus was to leave early the next day for the Warlock’s memorial.  The group dissolved, Mira found Gwen and Eve on the far side of the dance floor and joined them.  She was glad to see that her friend had found a level of comfort.  Max joined Cal and Seth, while Talar danced with a starry-eyed vampire girl.  She finally had the opportunity she desired, and stepped unnoticed into the cool night air.  She enjoyed parties and dances, but they were hot and stifling, and she didn’t appreciate being forced to socialize. 

             
No one noticed when she slipped out the door.

              The night was lightly overcast, and the moon was high in the sky.  It shone brightly, casting its light onto the scene, bathing it in the pale silver.  It seemed to own the sky tonight, bending its iridescent light off of the thin clouds around it into an eerie halo.  This night held one of the rare occasions when the luminous circle around the moon captured the spectrum in its entirety, a ring of color.  At the center of the silver courtyard, there was a small reflection pool, hemmed with large stone benches that appeared to be much older than she.  Vividly green moss covered the gently sloping banks of the pond, whispering stories of disuse, dappled here and there with small wildflowers.  The moon’s image in the pool reminded her of the Moon Faeries’ eternal ice, and the moonbeams trapped inside.  She filled her lungs with the cold air as if these were the last breaths she would ever take.  She heard footsteps behind her; they were trying to remain silent.  She sensed the boy the second he was in the courtyard.  Nonetheless, he still moved noiselessly across the lawn, coming nearer with each second.  The dark figure took a seat next to her on the smooth stone bench, not speaking.  Her lack of surprise or acknowledgement must have told him that she had sensed his arrival.