Call Down the Moon

By Jackie MacKenzie

Eden is an elemental witch with problems. Her brother wants to kill her, she might be the reason her parents are dead, and she just blew up a vehicle belonging to an alpha werewolf.

Eden has been hiding from her brother in Port Angeles, WA for more than 4 years. Now he’s found her once again, and his mad rage hasn’t disappeared. Before she used to run away, but now Eden has allies.
Her elemental magic isn’t that powerful, but when pushed to the limits of her fear, Eden discovers she has magic that shouldn’t exist – magic to call werewolves, even the powerful ones. And despite a growing attraction and friendship, wolf pack alpha Myles Hunter is determined to regain control of his wolves.
Because Eden’s brother isn’t the only thing stalking them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie MacKenzie
• Release date: Jul 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465972361

Jackie MacKenzie

Jackie MacKenzie grew up in the pretty part of Montana.She is a veteran of the Iraq War, as well as Operations Enduring Freedom, Iraqi Freedom and Southern Watch. She has a degree in English from the University of Maryland University College.In her free time she works as a bookkeeper (where she puts that degree to good use).

Book preview

Call Down the Moon

Jackie MacKenzie

Published by Herding Cats Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Jackie Mackenzie

www.jackiemackenziebooks.com

For Jenn and Liz,

who bravely read every draft.

And nothing bad happened to either of them.

And to Taylor, who asked a lot of questions.

I hope I answered them all.

Chapter 1

Hunter, a man’s voice growled in my ear.

I blew up a car.

After a pause he said, I’m sorry?

Accident. I closed one eye and grimaced before continuing, It’s in your parking lot.

There was silence and when I pulled the phone away from my face, I realized he’d hung up.

I was more nervous about his arrival than I was about the fact that I’d blown up a car. I looked at the charred and crispy wreckage. I was glad, for a moment, that I hadn’t mentioned it was one of his cars.

I let the rain fall down, extinguishing the last remnants of the blast and approached the shell. It had been a Suburban, a new one with darkly tinted windows and body armor – a strange and unnecessary object on the Olympic Peninsula. Now it was mostly pieces of twisted, blackened steel and shattered glass. When I was ten feet away, I realized I’d missed. Anger ripped through me; the sky flickered with lightning. I exhaled heavily and kicked a piece of tire.

Set in the industrial district, on the western edge of town, Hunter Acquisitions is in the business of acquiring things. What exactly those things are is rather murky, but it isn’t in the finance and banking industry.

Two empty rows of parking lot separated me from the two-story cement and steel building. Its upper level had windows which reflected the glowing colors in the clouds.

I took another deep breath to calm the storm raging in my chest. The steel cooled and the rain dissipated. Water dripped down my chin and from the ends of my ponytail. I heard Myles’ Porsche pull on to the road leading to his office and stepped away from the mess. He was alone – at least for now. I watched him drive up, feeling my stomach tumble in knots.

The man who stepped out of the sleek black machine was just too tall to fit in the car, and had the stride of an athlete. His stance was wide and ready for anything that might present itself unexpectedly. When he moved toward me, though, his steps were graceful like a dancer, someone who knew exactly where each footstep should go for maximum effect. His hair was dark like the night sky with a hint of coals glowing through it when the sun shined down. His eyes were cooler, even in the dim light, a silky silvery-grey and they swept the parking lot with muted irritation. He was dressed in slacks and a button-front shirt and, I realized, house slippers.

Eden, he nodded in polite greeting.

I tried to smile at him but my cheeks wouldn’t cooperate. We turned as one unit to look at the destruction of his fleet vehicle. Next to me he sighed. I could smell his frustration. He surveyed the destruction in silence then growled, exhaling with a slight frown. His eyebrows contracted as he looked over the mangled mess.

What happened?

Er… well… Hamilton Chase…

Myles glanced at me with what could have been concern. I thought he was gone.

I shook my head. Me, too. Not, though.

Not?

I missed, I clarified.

That’s debatable, he said, picking up a scrap of steel frame that might have been a door.

Myles, I’m so sorry. I can replace it.

He cocked an eyebrow at me and then glanced around. The parking lot was wet from the rain, but still hot from where the lightning bolt had struck the pavement in two places. The stench of wet asphalt grew as we stood in the darkness. The clouds began to dissipate as well, replaced with a high thin film around the half-moon and clear night sky.

Eden… he sighed, shaking his head. Go away.

I left, slinking away like the dog who’d pulled the turkey off the stove. I tucked my non-existent tail between my legs and ran. I reached the end of the road and turned back to where Myles was standing in the parking lot. He was talking on the phone but he was too far away to hear the words. I sighed and brushed my fingers through the air, sending a soft caress of wind towards him. Then I raised a thick fog from the ground until it swirled around me, and I ran for home.

I wasn’t winded when I stepped onto my front porch: magic. I can’t outrun things in the wild, but I run faster than a normal human. Fast enough people would notice if they saw me on the street.

My house is small, but then it doesn’t need to be big – it’s only me, and sometimes a goldfish. Right now, I’m between goldfish – the last one died a week ago – so it’s just me.

I climbed in the shower thinking about my confrontation with Hamilton Chase and how he’d managed to evade what should have been a deadly lightning strike. I’d known him my whole life, something that should have bonded us together as family, but instead turned him bitter, angry and vengeful. He’d tried to kill me three times, each one coming a little bit closer to succeeding. This time hadn’t been anything more than an opening gamble. That, above all other things, bothered me. Hamilton was straightforward and intense: he struck like a snake in the grass. But this had been different – something new and much more terrifying.

I sucked in a wavering breath, feeling terror begin to creep in as the adrenaline oozed away with the damp heat. Hamilton and I had grown up best friends, brother and sister…until the death of our parents opened up an uncrossable chasm between us, one that made me ache with both fear and sadness. They were Hamilton’s biological parents, but they were my parents just as much as his. I wiped miserable tears from the corners of my eyes and pulled on pajamas.

It was after midnight and in three hours I had to be up and ready to start another day. I sniffed, huffing oxygen against the fear that lingered, chilling my fingers and causing goose bumps all across my skin. I was safe in the house, but Hamilton wasn’t through… until I killed him or he killed me he’d never be through.

Myles was waiting for me at my building. I was surprised to see his work vehicle parked at the edge of the lot rather than his Porsche. It wasn’t yet light – it was still more than an hour until dawn. The two city streetlights gave the area a dim orange glow. Sighing, I pulled in next to him. I clenched and unclenched my hands and took a deep breath. We met at the back of our vehicles. He looked irritated and I felt nervous.

Myles nodded politely at me all the same. Eden.

Myles, I really… I’m sorry about your Suburban.

He scowled. I’m not here about the Suburban, he snapped, each word its own distinct sentence.

Oh, I said soundlessly. He heard me anyway.

Myles sighed and my neck began to hurt from looking up at him. I stepped back slightly and he froze. Once I was at a comfortable distance from him, I stilled and waited.

Eden… you need help with Hamilton. He’ll kill you if you don’t… I’m offering you assistance. That’s all.

I clenched my teeth together to keep from rudely sending him into an uncontrollable rage. Myles snorted, though I think he meant to breathe to keep calm. I stepped back from him just a bit further. He could outrun me – all werewolves could – but I could mask myself in mist too dense to penetrate. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to chase me, or find me.

Thank you, I said, but it’s fine. I can handle it.

A sharp wind blew across us, sending my hair into my face. Myles scowled as I brushed milk chocolate colored strands out of my eyes. Stop it, Eden.

I … that wasn’t me, I told him and another gust proved my point. It gets windy without my help.

Look, Myles said, you can pay me for the Suburban or you can take my offer.

I glanced up at him and my jaw dropped open. We both knew I couldn’t afford to pay for that kind of machinery and that I didn’t want his help any more than he wanted to help me.

Think about it, he said. He gave me one last glance, nodded in farewell then turned away without another word. I sighed, frowned, and headed to my building. The lights were still out but when I unlocked the door I could smell flour and sugar and the sticky sweetness of day-old pastries. I had three hours of silence to think before my sales manager arrived. It was not nearly enough time.

I have owned The Pastry Shop for three years, since Marni, my former boss, and her husband Dave, retired and moved to Mexico. I’m not much for controlling anything more than the weather – my magic is pretty limited – but everything I bake comes out perfectly. That gift makes my shop the busiest in town.

In four hours Myles would be back – ordering his morning coffee and two of whatever the daily special was. He would expect an answer then – not when it was convenient for me – but in four hours. I made a face at the display counter, expressing my distaste for Myles’ offer and went into the kitchen to get started on the morning baking.

By the time Nikki arrived I was covered in a fine layer of flour dust and sugar. She brushed long dark strands of wind-blown hair out of her face and squinted at me with a bright, even smile. The lights made her already olive skin look tan. I waved a floured hand at her.

The shop would open in ten minutes and I was just finishing painting on the last of the frosting for the morning’s cinnamon rolls. I heard the bell over the door chime and braced myself for a typical Monday.

I don’t know how long it took Myles to figure out what I am. I knew early on he was a werewolf – wolves have a distinct scent – but I think it took him longer. Witches don’t smell like anything other than regular humans – it’s the magic you can smell, not the person. I don’t even know how he figured out what I do since it’s not something I advertise. And since I’d come to Port Angeles I’d never had cause or desire to use the magic I had. Last night had been the first time I’d manipulated the elements in more than four years.

The first time he mentioned magic to me he’d ordered the usual: Large coffee, two of the special.

I had barely glanced at him. The line was long and it was icy cold outside, far too cold for a normal day. With each opening of the door my skin shrunk against the foggy chill.

Seven, I told him and he handed me exact change. I bagged his breakfast and handed him a to-go cup.

Strange weather this morning, he said. It wasn’t so much what he said but the inflection in his voice that made me glance up. I recognized him as the wolf who came in every morning. This particular morning I was too distracted by the burned batch of cinnamon rolls in my garbage to notice much else; though I usually noticed him. Once he had my attention he laughed, the only time I’d ever seen anything more than polite disinterest cross his face.

I felt myself jerk back in surprise. He smiled, slid a business card across the counter and said, Have a good day.

I stared after him for a minute and then pocketed the card. Since then his number’s been in my phone.

Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about Myles. I’d done a Google search for him once, but it was like he didn’t exist. He owned Hunter Acquisitions – and had the money to show for it – but other than that, his past was a complete mystery. Hunter Acquisitions itself was also shrouded in secrecy. There was a web page describing its establishment in the early eighties in Seattle and its later migration to Port Angeles. There was no mention of its owner. The website described the company as a privately held firm specializing in negotiations and transfers, escort services and personal protection. I thought it likely Myles had been in the military at one point; he was a master at organization and command and control. Other than my suspicions I knew little about him.

When Myles came in he was alone – and late – and sat at an empty corner nook table rather than ordering. His back to the wall, he picked up the newspaper and spread it so I couldn’t see his face.

I’ll just be a minute, I told Nikki. She raised an eyebrow at me and nodded. It was the first time Myles had ever done more than get his order to go. She watched us with squinted eyes until another customer came in.

Good morning. I slid a cup of coffee in front of him along with one of two blueberry Danishes – the other I bagged.

He nodded in reply. I sat down opposite him, feeling nervous. There were other people seated at the haphazard and rather rickety tables in the shop: old ladies brunching with their friends, a solitary woman in a business suit, two teenagers who should have been in class.

I can’t afford to replace your vehicle, I told him. Is there something else I can do – payments or …?

He shook his head. If you can’t replace it, the alternative is to accept my help with Hamilton.

How do you even know about Hamilton?

Hamilton Chase thinks you killed his parents, he said in a manner that plainly said he knew everything about me. I wondered why that might be, but Myles continued, interrupting my thoughts. There’s no option for him but to kill you and avenge them. Did you?

Did I what? Kill Caleb and Daphne? my voice drifted off as I thought back. The truth was that I didn’t know. And the truth haunted me. I met Myles’ gaze for a moment then looked away.

Why does he think you did? he asked quietly, leaning forward over his coffee. He gently cut bites of the pastry apart with the edge of his fork.

I shook my head, looking down at the table. I didn’t know; I’d never known. "When Hamilton and I were seventeen there was an argument over… I don’t even know; something trivial. He’d been fighting with Dad a lot about his lack of control and just normal teenager stuff. It wasn’t serious; at least, I didn’t think it was. Hamilton stormed out and drove off.

My father wasn’t ever the most rational person and when Hamilton left he still had a lot of anger to clear up. He started yelling at me for staying out too late over the weekend – I was already grounded and I don’t think he was even mad about it, not really… but Hamilton had gotten him fired up and then vanished. And Dad… he’s a wolf, you know? He can’t just let it go. So he’s shouting at me and I’m shouting back and my mom comes home and she starts shouting at my dad.

Myles nodded and sipped his coffee. I was whispering. I’d never told anyone what had happened; the words caught in my throat and my chest felt like it was on fire. If anyone asked, I’d always said I didn’t remember. But I did. Some things. I swallowed but forced myself to continue. Myles was patient; he didn’t move or make a sound while I was silent.

I heard Hamilton’s tires in the driveway. Dad started toward him. Hamilton yelled ‘no’ or something like that and I saw him running. I remember… his face wasn’t… I choked out the words, feeling tears burning my face. It wasn’t right… and then there was a whistling sound.

I glanced up at Myles once more and he looked at me, expecting a grand finale. I shrugged and wiped away the wet tracks. That’s it. When I woke up Hamilton was gone, Caleb and Daphne were dead, and the house looked like a hurricane had ripped it to shreds.

Myles closed his eyes for a moment and then finished his coffee in silence. I waited, trying to compose myself before turning around to face my customers. If it had been any other story – any other time – I would have been impressed with myself for managing to disconcert him. His silence was comforting, instead of awkward. Myles let the silence carry, until I felt steady enough to turn away.

He finally looked up from his coffee and started to say something, then thought better of it because he closed his mouth. He stood up and picked up the paper sack with the rest of his breakfast. Okay, he said in a whisper, okay.

Then he left. I sat a moment longer just to be sure I was calm enough to go back to work. Nikki was helping someone at the counter so I was free to go into the kitchen and pound my fears into dough.

Hamilton and I were best friends both because of our complimentary personalities and because of our strange upbringing. Where he was serious, I was playful and where he was overconfident, I was self-doubting. I was a genius with an oven from the time I was old enough to understand what it did; while Hamilton had no such all-consuming talent, he was a fascinating artist.

Eden, he said, and we were about six, I drew you a map.

It was larger than both of us, made out of taped together sheets of construction paper of all colors. He’d managed to tape it to the wall in the living room while our mom was in the garden. It was a massive map of the US.

Look, he said, I even drew meatyologys on it. So you can tell me the weather.

I took my place in front of the map and grinned at the imaginary camera. Hamilton held up his hands like a director and snapped an imaginary clacker. He giggled and I launched into the weather predictions for the entire US – omitting most of it because I only knew the state I lived in – Nebraska – and I knew it would be sunny. I threw my hands across the map, circling the malformed Nebraska and smiling widely at the imaginary audience.

You’ll be a great meatyologer, Hamilton told me when I took a bow.

He’d forgotten Idaho, I realized. I laughed into the pillow and drifted to sleep thinking about Hamilton’s map.

What will you be? I asked him and suddenly we were ten. The map was gone and we were flying through the air on brightly colored plastic kitchen brooms. Mine had rose petals instead of bristles. The clouds dipped around us forming pockets of bright sunshine and misty dampness.

Hamilton shrugged. His light brown hair was shaggy, brushing his shoulders. I dunno, maybe I’ll be a wolf, like Dad.

Hamilton pulled out a muffin from a pocket but he didn’t offer me any. He watched my face while he ate it, satisfaction filling his features. We landed at our house in a rainstorm. Hamilton shook his mane, flicking me with drops of water before heading inside without waiting for me.

I followed him in to dinner. The table was set for three and Mom looked stressed. She huddled over the frying pan and I helped bring the food to the table. Where’s Hamilton? I asked. I glanced at my reflection. I was a teenager now and still shy about the slender, boyish shape my body stubbornly held onto as all my friends grew curves. I turned away from the window.

Mom sighed. He’s not hungry, she lied. Above us, rock music drown out any other sound.

Upstairs I opened his door and stuck my head in. Hey, let’s eat!

Hamilton flicked a hand at me and the door swung shut with enough violence that it slammed into my forehead. My eyes watered. The music rose. Hamilton! I shouted through the door. An invisible force pushed me away from the door and I had to grab the handrail to keep from being pushed backward down the stairs. Tears stung my eyes.

The room around me shifted from our upstairs to our backyard, though the furniture remained. Pictures hung from the trees and ruffled on a breeze.

Stop it! I shouted at him but Hamilton swung a branch through the air. It turned into a snake and leapt toward me. I screamed and tried to run but Hamilton wrapped my feet in rope and I tripped. I landed on my elbows with a sudden thud and the pain reverberated through my body. Hamilton! I cried but he just laughed, an inhuman laugh that terrified me more than his abuse.

I glanced up at him and he was slapping his hand against the stick. With each collision the stick boomed loudly. Hamilton grinned down at me, his captive, and the stick boomed again. I began to cry.

The booms were actually someone knocking on my door. It was late – close to one in the morning. I lay still for a minute then wiped my eyes.

Whoever you are, you better be the man of my dreams, I muttered, pulling on a bathrobe.

I yanked the door open and found myself face to face with a man I’d never met. He grinned at me in a way that told me he’d clearly heard what I’d muttered.

Who the hell are you?

He wasn’t tall, only an inch or two shorter than me but more than twice my width. His hair reflected the moon glow and looked silver. His smile was not attractive: his teeth were sharp and oddly spaced.

Some people say Earl. Others, the Keeper. You can call Earl whatever you want, darling. Earl’s eyes flickered in color but they were inhuman shades of green and yellow.

I tried not to show my fear. He wasn’t a werewolf, though his weird toothy grin lent the impression of it. What do you want? I asked, not inviting him in.

Earl is here on behalf of Myles Hunter.

I waited for him to finish explaining his business on my front step at one in the morning but he lapsed into silence. I cocked an eyebrow.

Mmm… Why?

Earl’s eyebrow crept up as he watched me. Earl is… what you call…‘expert’ at finding memories.

Myles sent you here? I felt my face change as I pondered the oddness of his expressions and his statement.

Earl’s eyebrows contracted and his eyes grew disbelieving. He say you need help.

I exhaled through my lips, causing them to flap in an undignified but gratifying manner. Earl mimicked me. Wait right here. I closed the door in his face and called Myles.

Hunter, he said and I was sure he was awake and waiting for me to call. My irritation grew because I was exhausted and he sounded wide-awake and – for Myles – cheerful.

Why is there a troll on my porch? I asked, suddenly glad it was the middle of the night – there weren’t likely to be children running around. Trolls have an affinity for children: they make a nice snack.

Earl works for me. Let him in.

Not yet.

Myles sighed and I heard him rub his hand over his face. Eden… Eden, let him in or I’m coming over there and I’ll force you to let him in.

I scowled. That Myles knew where I lived didn’t surprise me. He knew about Hamilton. He knew about Caleb and Daphne. I wondered whom else he spied on in his free time.

Fine, he continued. I’m on my way.

I almost told him not to bother, but since I was awake because of his interference, he could be awake because of my obstinance. I hung up.

Chapter 2

I opened the door to find Earl had taken a seat on my front step.

Earl waits, he said, staring at the road.

I glanced up and down the street looking for any lone teenagers, closed the door, and went to get dressed. Myles would arrive dressed for business. His definition and mine weren’t the same, but I wasn’t in the right profession for a satin slip to be considered a business suit.

I was dressed in jeans and a sweater when Myles knocked once with a rap sharp enough to silence a movie theater. He and Earl sat down in the living room. I had a cup of tea but smiled over the top of it without offering either of them anything. Myles looked around the house. I was proud of the décor – a mix of casual elegance and comfort with craftsman furniture and few knickknacks. Myles’ eyes lingered on my empty fishbowl, centered on the coffee table.

Earl didn’t look at anything other than his seat, and once in it he looked at me.

Earl is a Keeper. He will tell me everything I need to know about what happened …with Hamilton, Myles started strong but his voice ended in a whisper.

I felt myself drawing in, away from Myles. I didn’t trust him – or know him – and this sudden trap only reinforced my inherent distrust of everyone. I don’t need help, I said, sitting up straight. I’ll pay for your vehicle.

Myles’ face tightened and he fought a scowl with moderate success. Eden… his voice tapered off as mist enveloped the room. I’d never used magic in my own house and I was furious that he was forcing me to now. I don’t like magic and I only use it sparingly – for defense and escape. Everything became washed in dense whiteness, impenetrable even to a wolf’s eyes and nose. I moved from my seat though I was sure the fog was so disorienting Myles would never find his way out of my house without directions.

I waited but he made no sound. Earl was silent though I could faintly hear him breathing. I moved toward the kitchen, safely out of what I thought Myles’ range might be if he came looking: he’d start in the living room and then move to the bedroom, stumbling