Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)
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About this ebook
As the rise in supernatural disturbances continually expands to more obvious locations, Candra’s family and friends are on a never-ending hunt to remove the region’s dark magic.
Greater forces are at work, though, as an accidental link is formed between Candra and Ben, “marking” their souls and coupling them forever. They can now see each other’s thoughts and speak to one another telepathically—bad news for sworn enemies.
Occults spreading across Hartford, along with Candra and Ben’s mishap, are part of a bigger plan, one that neither the Lowells nor the Conways ever saw coming. There is more than one Ancient in their midst, and these primordial beings are lying in wait until Candra inherits her power.
A power which hasn’t been seen in over five hundred years.
A power which balances one of her enemy’s.
These two powers combined can change the course of history. In order to survive a battle with the Ancients and protect their abilities, the Lowell’s and Conway’s will have to work together. Can they rise above their feud, or will they lose everything?
Rebecca A. Rogers
Rebecca Rogers expressed her creative side at an early age and hasn't stopped since. She won't hesitate to tell you that she lives inside her imagination, and it's better than reality. To stay up to date with Rebecca's latest books, check out her website at www.rebeccaarogers.com, sign up for her mailing list, or find her on social sites such as Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter. Mailing List Sign-up Link: http://eepurl.com/bDDMPL Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/rebecca_rogers
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Reviews for Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)
1 rating1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5the story is interseting lots of mystery and action but sometime i wish the auther could change the viewing point from candra to Ben to have more than one point of view on the story...
all in all the book was verrrrry good
Book preview
Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2) - Rebecca A. Rogers
Black Moon
Rebecca A. Rogers
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2012 Rebecca A. Rogers
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Smashwords Edition
First Edition: January 13, 2012
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Krista, Ashley, and Jamie – Thank you for your devoted eyes.
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.
- Rudyard Kipling
Chapter One
I’ve always fought back after a blow to the face. In fourth grade, when Darcy Miller decided it was her slide and she was queen of the playground, my arrogance triumphed, and I challenged her position. After one clean punch, the girl had it coming. Ultimately, I won, but Darcy’s friends wanted nothing to do with me. She was their rightful queen. So, really, I lost.
Which is exactly what’s happening to me right now.
Candra, stop!
Jana’s passionate cries are wearing thin. She’s stood on the sidelines watching every new swing, kick, and blood splatter as they happen. Of course she won’t step in—her two best friends are fighting, which means she’d actually have to pick a side.
I jerk my head once in disapproval. Sorry, Jana. Not today.
Besides, Ali had this coming for a while. The bitch ran her mouth that I slept with Ben and gave him a terminal STD. Anyone who’s close to me knows that’s not the case; we’ve never slept together.
Well, not like that, anyway.
I dodge a punch aimed for my cheek. Who knew Barbie could actually swing, let alone make contact with someone’s face? Right now, though, she’s a fierce opponent. She’s avoided almost every chance I’ve had to knock her into next week. Almost.
"C’mon, Candra. Let me show you how it’s really done," Ali taunts.
I grin, sure that my teeth are covered in blood, as I feel like I’m sucking on liquid pennies. You’re good. Better, even, than any of my rivals back home.
Too bad we’re much worse, huh?
Her lips pucker into a mocking pout. By we she means the Conway’s. Last I heard they practically treat her like family.
Yeah,
I say, a little winded, too bad.
And just like that, she knocks me out. I don’t mean let-me-leave-a-bruise-on-your-face out, but more like let-me-leave-a-bruise-on-your-face-and-break-your-jaw-at-the-same-time out. Multi-colored spots momentarily freckle the darkness, and then I spit blood. Well, I’ve been doing that for at least ten, maybe fifteen, minutes already, but this oozes across my lips in one of those gooey messes that’ll stain everything—my shirt, my jeans, asphalt. This could be a crime scene, after all.
Stop it!
Jana’s somewhere in the black fog and tiny speckles of light; I just can’t see her. Okay, you’ve won. Now, go!
She cradles my head. The only way I know it’s her is because she’s the only one who gives a shit. Blake, too. But I think he just wanted to see the chick fight.
That was lame.
His voice comes from my left, as does the whack to his body. What?
He laughs. Okay, seriously, I had five bucks on you, Cee. How could you let me down like that?
I cough up more blood so I won’t choke. What are you talking about? I totally had her.
Blake’s the only one laughing. Jana emits her typical, parental sigh.
Candra, you can’t fight everyone that comes along. You’re going to get seriously injured one of these days.
I smile . . . or I try, at least. I probably look like I’ve been to the dentist and received a surplus of Novocain. Too much fun.
If you call getting bloody and bruised fun, then I guess so. But it’s not my thing. C’mon, let’s get you home so we can clean you up,
she says, carefully lifting my head off her lap. Blake’s arms slide underneath my back as he lifts me.
In the comfort of Jana’s backseat, my body begins to react to the pain. Barbed vines of agony slither and stretch their way through my face and down my torso, as if my body’s replaying every hit and scrape and bite all over again. Get me out of here,
I squall through clenched teeth.
Jana doesn’t respond, unless you count her foot pressing the gas pedal and hauling ass out of the parking lot. Yes, a parking lot. As in: we fought on vacant premises with plenty of parking so the curious could watch. It was all over school earlier, how there’s a love triangle between Ali, Ben and me, and how we’re both dying to be by his side. Gag.
I tried explaining to Ali that Ben and I can’t be together—he made that clear after he stuck his tongue in my mouth in the parking lot of May’s Ice Cream Shop. Plus, our families are at each other’s throats. The feud has gotten worse since my run-in with the shadow man a.k.a. Ethan at the carnival two months ago. Magic is being used now more than ever, and it’s up to us to find out where they’re practicing the dark art.
But, of course, Ali wouldn’t listen. She was too blinded by jealousy, I guess, having no idea that he and I had been seeing each other. I explained I used him to try and bring peace between our families, but that only infuriated her more.
"You used him?" she had seethed.
I smirked. Yeah, but there were a few bonuses, so it wasn’t a total bust.
She crossed her arms over her chest, which only pushed her boobs up, revealing her V-neck top couldn’t handle all that cleavage. What kind of bonuses?
Laughing, I glanced away, shaking my head. You don’t want to know.
As I moved to pass her, she blocked me.
No, I think I do.
Whatever. She persisted. I answered.
Well, there was the time he took me out to dinner. Oh, and the time he saved me from his mom eating my leg like a king at a Renaissance festival would with turkey. He was so sweet, too. After he bandaged me, we slept in the same bed.
I made sure I added this last part because I just couldn’t help myself. Then there was that time we made out on the back of his BMW.
I’d never seen someone’s face ignite into a fiery red like Ali’s. Bitch,
she hissed, stomping off in the opposite direction. By the end of the school day, everyone wanted a chance to see the fight. So we picked a convenient location and . . . the rest is now history.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. It would’ve been funnier if Ben had told her and she hit him instead. The dull ache mixed with blazing pain in my face is almost unbearable, reminding me that I’m the one who was on the receiving end.
We’re here,
says Jana.
"Where’s here?" I ask. Since I’m lying down, my visibility is limited, and all I see are trees pointing toward the sky and clouds.
My house. I can’t take you to yours just yet because Randy and Beth will freak. Plus, your parents are coming in again tomorrow, so I’ll just send Beth a message and tell her you’re staying with me.
When she says message,
she doesn’t mean a text; she means telepathically. Not only are Jana and Blake Watchers—helpers to my family—but they also gained the ability to communicate with us when they signed up for the job.
Done,
says Jana. God, that took all of five seconds.
I groan at the sharp pain hammering throughout my skull, and the rest of my body, when I sit up. You don’t think she’ll suspect anything?
No, we’ve got this covered,
Jana responds loosely. Randy and Beth trust us.
I snort. "Too bad you just lied to them."
A half-smile tugs at the corner of Blake’s lips. "I wouldn’t say lie."
Jana and Blake exit the car, but, of course, I’m the last one out. My muscles are shouting at me; so much so, in fact, that, in the past thirty minutes, I’ve learned I have muscles I never knew existed. I also know I won’t be able to exit this car on my own. Lucky for me Blake snatches the bait.
Whatever you say,
I retort. But if they find out, I’m toast. Forget my eighteenth birthday. They’ll send me straight back to Charleston, and I’ll be lucky if even that happens.
Thoughts of a boarding school, or maybe a remote island like the one Tom Hanks was on in the movie Castaway, cross my mind. Perfect isolated spots.
Speaking of isolation, Jana’s house isn’t as accessible as Randy and Beth’s, and there aren’t any neighbors from what I can tell. It’s also much smaller, and the rooms seem pretty cozy, based on the fact the second-story windows are so close together they only have a few wooden boards separating them. The lawn is a bit overgrown, and the flowers on the mini front porch have all but turned to dust, as if Jana’s family has been spending way too much time searching for magicians rather than nurturing their home.
Nice place,
I say.
Jana watches me for a second, like she’s unsure if I really mean what I said, finally settling with a thanks
before leading us through the front door. Inside, the house still has that comfortable atmosphere. Some might consider it cluttered, but all I want to do is grab a throw and curl up on the couch for a nap.
This way,
says Jana, guiding us up the stairs. Obviously she’s trying to hide me before her parents get home and notice the bruised and bloodied mess known as Candra. Each stair I take is a painful souvenir of the fight, and I bite my lip in an attempt not to cry out. Blake catches me before I trip, but his effort only makes the pain worse, as he accidentally grabs the side where Ali landed a hard blow earlier. Without thinking, I scream.
Sorry!
Blake responds, removing his hands from the general vicinity of my ribcage, and me altogether.
’S’okay,
I wheeze.
When Jana opens her bedroom door, I’m surprised to see posters of rock bands from the 80’s, along with a heavy metal theme. Three guitars decorate a wall used only by her dresser, and there are several wild wigs on busts by her window.
Wigs? Really? You club frequently, Jana?
I tease.
Jana’s face is totally solemn when she answers, "Candra, the wigs are for disguises so when Blake and I venture out, trying to gather information for your family, we won’t actually be caught and, you know, killed."
Seriously?
Switching her weight from her right leg to her left, she retorts, What’d you think we do, collect coffee and muffins for breakfast?
No, but that would be badass if you did,
I say, rubbing my belly. I drop my smile. All right. All joking aside, I didn’t know they put you in harm’s way like that. If you want, I can talk to them—
No!
Jana and Blake yell at the same time, glancing at each other and then back at me.
Blake explains, If we mention that we can’t handle something as simple as hanging out in a bar to catch information, then how will we be allowed to join you guys when shit hits the fan?
I shake my head.
Exactly,
he states. We won’t, which means you guys are left without a few Watchers.
A few?
This time, Jana answers, Candra, it’s not just Blake and me who are in this; our families are, too.
It shouldn’t be like this, you know?
I say, trying to explain my thoughts. I mean, it should’ve never gotten this far. You and your families shouldn’t be involved. This is our fight, not yours.
I close my eyes and bite my tongue. "I don’t mean it like that. I just mean . . ." Okay, I need to shut up before I complicate things more than they already are.
As I open my eyes, Jana loops her arm through mine and smiles. We know. But we also know what we signed up for. We’re the good guys, Candra, remember?
I nod, but something deep inside of me doesn’t feel the same way.
C’mon,
says Jana. Let’s get you cleaned up.
She coerces me toward the bathroom.
This is the first time I’ve gotten a good look at myself since the fight. Purple bruising has begun to surround my right eye, and it continues to swell so much that I’m afraid I won’t be able to open it by morning. I didn’t realize how much blood there was. It’s everywhere; all over the front of my shirt, down to my jeans, crusted around my lips and nose. Gross!
Why didn’t you tell me I look like shit?
I ask Jana while surveying the damage done to the rest of my face and body. Blake’s mishap a few minutes ago on the stairwell confirms there are bruises on my ribcage, and a nasty bite mark on my arm.
I’m surprised you don’t feel it. I guess you’ve been running off adrenaline.
She huffs. Just wait until that wears off.
Oh, I felt it before we left the parking lot.
Could be a lot worse than what we see on the surface, Candra.
Turning on the cold water, she holds a washcloth underneath the spout. Sit,
she orders, motioning with her head toward the toilet.
I drop the seat and respond with a salute. Yes, ma’am.
She squeezes out the excess water in the sink and then rolls the washcloth into a semi-ball, using the tight edges to clean up blood. I still can’t believe you two were fighting over Ben,
she says, shaking her head.
Suppressing the urge to smile, I say, I think it was more about the fact that he actually paid attention to me.
Well,
says Jana, pausing to inspect her clean-up job, you might be right. But I hope this is a lesson to you.
Please.
I roll my eyes. "I’d fight her again. It’s not really about him. It’s between her and me."
Whatever. This has always been about Ben. If he wasn’t in the picture, you two wouldn’t be fighting.
She dabs my nose and lip a few more times.
He’s not in the picture. At least, not mine.
Which is the honest-to-God truth. He made that clear a couple of months ago, and I haven’t talked to him since. What will he think when he hears Ali and I fought?
He’ll always be in your life, Candra.
Jana sighs sincerely. Whether you like it or not.
"What are you