Blood Moon (Book 2 in Blood Series)

By T. Lynne Tolles

The gang finds themselves up to their eyeballs in family history when clues are revealed that suggest an evil curse is hidden within the O'Rielly Book of Shadows. An old family diary divulges the O'Rielly family was an integral part in stymying a power hungry witch that took the lives of thirteen young girls and clues to spells whereabouts seem to suggest they're in the O'Rielly Book of Shadows.

One by one young women are reported missing from neighboring towns when two mysterious women show up in town. Is it coincidence? Or has someone come back to complete the unfinished spell from the past? No one knows but when Allison's life is in the balance, the gang pulls together to find a way to stop the past from repeating itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Lynne Tolles
• Release date: Oct 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452455143

T. Lynne Tolles

T. Lynne Tolles can be found most days, juggling one of two cat muses and a laptop, tripping over an ancient Newfoundland dog and washing a never-ending pile of laundry. When life doesn’t get in the way, she writes paranormal romances for new adults. Her passion for witches, ghosts, and vampires together with a light-hearted wit are reflected in her loveable characters and the adventures of mystery they unravel to find their happily ever after.

Book preview

Dedication

To my son, Dane… I’m so proud of you and I love you.

Chapter 1

Linda Danvers put on her sweater as she walked out of Sam’s Restaurant. She had turned twenty-two the night before and had stayed up all night with her girlfriends celebrating, only to be called to fill in for one of the gals at the restaurant who had gone into labor an hour before. Her head throbbed, her feet were killing her, and she felt about to drop from exhaustion, but she agreed to work. She’d go home and sleep for about two hours and come back to pick up the shift.

She rented a house with a girlfriend, just around the corner from Sam’s. It was perfect. She hadn’t needed a car since hers died a month back and there was no way she could afford a new engine for the clunker. The car itself wasn’t worth the cost they quoted her for the repairs.

She pulled her tips from her pocket, along with the paper straw wrappers she had accumulated, when she rounded the corner to her street. A huge lilac bush grew wild in a splotch of dirt. It always smelled so good and right now it was in full bloom. She stuffed the money in her pocket and closed her eyes as she took a big whiff of the bush. A sharp pain shot across her skull then everything went black.

* * *

Blake sat on the couch petting Harry, Darby’s enormous cat, as he waited for Rowan, Devon, and Darby to come home from Colorado. The twenty-five-pound cat purred as Blake continued to scratch his long black fur and white tummy. Harry squinted his eyes as he looked up at the six-foot-four handsome vampire with wild, chocolate brown eyes. Blake had a devilish smile to go with those wild eyes that brought most women he encountered to their knees. But Blake wouldn’t be smiling anytime soon. He had really messed up things with his girlfriend, Rowan, and he wasn’t sure she’d want him back.

While he waited, he reflected on his transgressions. It was hard to believe how much had happened in such a short amount of time. Rowan had been kidnapped by Terrence Paine, who had been hunting Blake and his brother for as long as Blake could remember.

Until then, he and his brother, Devon, had eluded Paine’s attempts to kill them, but upon learning that Blake was romantically involved with someone, Terrence saw an opportunity to finally force the boys to him. Of course, nobody could have guessed that Terrence thought it would be entertaining to inject Rowan with werewolf blood he attained from a previous kill, just to see what happened.

Poor, unsuspecting Rowan. Because of Blake’s affiliation with the insane man, she was cursed to be a werewolf for the rest of her days.

This curse threw Blake into the spiraling decline of making mistake after mistake and landing him on this couch, waiting. He had grown up believing werewolves were horrible beasts that killed with no remorse or reason. As the reality of what Rowan would turn into solidified in Blake’s mind, he pulled away, scared and confused, from everyone. He wanted to help Rowan—fix the problem—cure her somehow, but when it became apparent there was no cure, he ran for the hills.

From that point, the mistakes got bigger and more idiotic. He had put Darby, Rowan’s sister and Devon’s girlfriend, in danger with a deadly werewolf, no less, then left her for dead. To add to his growing list of blunders he’d hidden information from his brother, practically dragged Darby to Colorado with him and broke the law.

The Colorado trip had been his last-ditch attempt at trying to help Rowan—at least that’s what he told himself. In reality it had been more for him. Darby and he had tracked down a werewolf named Dean Wolfe in hopes of finding a way to undo or fix what had been done to Rowan. When it came to meeting him face to face, Blake froze. He couldn’t do it. This left Darby to take up the slack where he’d dropped the ball. What a trooper she had been. When courage finally found Blake, he stepped in, misinterpreted what had happened and started an all-out brawl with Dean. The fallout from the incident was an accidental injury to Darby that ended her in surgery.

What a shamble he had made of things. That’s why he sat here, waiting, and petting the purring Harry.

He called the hospital and knew Darby had been released that morning, which meant they would be home soon. He filled the living room with every rose he could rummage from the local florists. He knew it could never make up for his abandoning Rowan during her first full moon as a werewolf, but he had to do something to show her how sorry he was. He still couldn’t believe just how insane he had been. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

He knew not only did he have a lot of explaining to do to Rowan, but also to his brother.

Thumbing through the werewolf folklore books Darby brought home from her bookstore, Cauldron, Book and Candle, Blake felt much like a criminal awaiting the verdict from the jury. Oh, sure he deserved it, but it didn’t make waiting any easier. The anxiety and guilt were making him quite nauseous and the scent of all the roses was not helping. The only thing that seemed to calm him was the enormous cat, Harry, purring and taking up his lap and much of the cushion next to him.

Blake heard a car turn onto the driveway and another onto the driveway next door. Here we go; they’re home. Now it begins—or ends. He wasn’t sure which direction the next few minutes would take him, but he knew he had to start somewhere.

He recognized Rowan’s big clunky keys jingling as she came in the back door and made her way down the hall to the living room. She must have been headed to open the front door when she caught a glimpse of him sitting on the couch amongst hundreds of roses and a very big cat.

Rowan stopped dead in her tracks, obviously stunned by Blake’s presence. A few seconds later, a key scraped in the doorknob and two more stunned faces appeared. And so it begins, Blake thought. Devon said, Blake, you’re back.

Blake stood, pushing Harry off his lap. Of course, his first glance was to Rowan staring at the floor. He made his way across the room toward Darby and Devon. Darby wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly and his fingers tangled in her waist-length golden blonde hair.

Are you okay? she asked. Are you hurt? Last time I saw you, you were getting pounded by Dean.

No, Darby, I’m good. Vampires heal fast. How about you? I thought you…I mean…I’m so sorry, Darby. Really sorry!

It’s okay, Blake. I probably would have thought I was dead, too, if I had been in your shoes.

Blake glanced at Rowan who was still not making eye contact with him, and then he turned to his brother. Devon’s tense brown eyes said volumes. What Blake saw was not anger or I told you so, but worry and concern. Blake hugged his brother and said, Hey, man. I’m sorry. I did some stupid stuff.

Devon patted his back and replied, Yeah, Blake. We need to have a long talk, you and I.

I know, I deserve whatever you throw at me, too, but we’ll talk later, I promise.

Devon and Darby both eyed Rowan, trying to decipher whether they should stay and be a buffer for her, or leave them alone to talk. Rowan nodded, which they took to mean they should let them talk, so Devon led Darby back to the bedroom.

Rowan walked around the couch, setting her backpack down, and smelling a vase of beautiful pink roses on the table as she passed. She touched one delicately with her fingertips as she sat. Rowan had grabbed Blake’s heart from their first meeting. Rowan was shorter than her sister, all of maybe five-foot-three. Her wavy, strawberry blonde hair fell past her waist. It was her eyes, though, that had mesmerized Blake. They were a blue that only the Caribbean Sea rivaled in beauty.

Blake followed her saying, I know the roses are a pretty lame way to say I’m sorry for what an idiot I’ve been, but everything else I thought of seemed just as lame. They don’t make a card that can apologize for what I did, trust me, I checked, he said with a touch of humor, hoping to make her crack a tiny smile. She didn’t.

He sat on the other couch, although still near her. He took her folded hands within his, letting them rest in her lap and continued, "I was scared and reacted badly, very badly, and then it became an obsession I couldn’t control. When I think back now, I can’t believe I did what I did. It was like being possessed, but I can’t even use that as an excuse, because it was me doing the possessing, obsessing, whatever.

I know it isn’t an excuse, but the only reference to werewolves I’ve had were horror stories Uncle Dominic used to tell me. I freaked. But when I got on the plane to Connecticut, I had time to think. That’s when I realized no matter what you turned into, it couldn’t be anything but sweet and wonderful. I never left the airport in Connecticut. I jumped on the next flight back to San Francisco. I called the hospital in Colorado and they said Darby had been discharged, so I knew you would be on your way home, so I waited here—for you. I’m so sorry, Rowan. Can you forgive me?

Tears ran down her face. I’m not sure, Blake. I just don’t know. Why couldn’t you talk to me about being scared? I was scared, too, Blake. I needed you and you treated me like I was something disgusting and horrific.

I know, and I’m so sorry, Rowan, but know this, you never disgusted me. I was confused and idiotic, but nothing you did, or are, could ever be disgusting or horrific to me. Please tell me we can fix this, Rowan. I want to make this right.

Not tonight—I’m exhausted. I’m sorry, Blake. I wish I could say everything is fine, but I can’t, at least not yet. I wish you could have talked to me before you went off the deep end. I thought we were close enough that you would have come to me with your problems and we could have dealt with them together. But so you know, I am relieved to see you are okay—I was so worried. Thank you for the roses. They are beautiful. I just wish I had received them under different circumstances.

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and said, I’m sorry, Blake, I’m going to bed. She stood, grabbed her stuff off the couch, and went into her bedroom and closed the door, leaving Blake on the couch in the living room surrounded with roses.

Blake remained there a long while thinking before he headed home. He had hoped talking with Devon would shed light on how badly he had messed up things. Everyone in the house was exhausted. There would be no more talking this evening. As he got up, Blake grabbed the book Darby had set on the table. It was the book from Terrence Paine’s office they had taken with them along with the contents of his safe.

Since he wasn’t going to be talking to anyone tonight, maybe he could do research and find some insight into the lives of werewolves.

Blake stayed up all night combing through the book then turned to the internet for some surfing on the subject. It seemed there was as much misguided folklore about werewolves as there was about vampires. What he hadn’t expected was so many similarities between the two species.

In the eyes of humans, vampires had always played the role of dark, villainous killing creatures. It seemed to be the same with werewolves. How could he have been so stupid? His uncle had told him horror stories about the violent act of barbarism he had seen as a young adult. Given the same circumstances, it could have been done by a vampire.

Many humans don’t know there are two kinds of vampires—born vampires and made vampires. Born vampires are birthed to two vampire parents like a human baby. Born vampires drink blood once or twice a week, but not in great volume. Due to the vampire’s ability with mind control, most humans don’t know they’ve been bitten. Such little blood is taken, the human doesn’t even feel weak. Blake and his brother referred to wounds they inflict as that of a bug bite, nothing like the destruction and havoc caused by a made vampire on a feeding binge.

Made or turned vampires were once humans who had been fed on by a vampire. The vampire then let’s the human feed on it. This is a tricky procedure, and many do not survive, but if the human-vampires do, they become incredibly blood thirsty. A made vampire must feed daily and in much larger volumes than a born vampire.

Often in their feeding they kill as a sort of frenzy happens. They can’t stop when the madness starts, until there is no more blood. For this reason, it is almost impossible for them to live in a community of humans without being noticed. What most humans hear or see are the rampages of an untamed made vampire. These rogues make the whole species pay for their recklessness.

What if all this time Uncle Dominic’s story was of a rogue werewolf, who made the rest of their species pay the cost for his bad press? No wonder Rowan wouldn’t talk to him. How hypocritical can a vampire be? Had he been insane these past two weeks? It certainly seemed so.

Uncle Dominic had always been someone Blake admired. After Blake and Devon lost their parents, Uncle Dominic tried to fill their shoes. He spoke often about how the boys should steer clear of werewolves. He was a professor, for heaven’s sake—a man of science. How could he have been so wrong? Hadn’t he researched it and seen how similar the races were?

Blake wasn’t sure how he was going to make this up to Rowan, but he was certainly going to give it his best shot. He strained to sleep, but visions of Rowan’s sad, disappointed face haunted him.

Chapter 2

Bree Nelson worked at Tommy McGee’s in Pescadero as a bar waitress. She walked out of the hot, stuffy bar at about 3:00 a.m. to head home. She lived a few blocks away, so she always walked to and from work.

This had never bothered her until very recently when her brother and the neighbor kid had followed her home one night and scared the living daylights out of her.

She walked along the downtown sidewalk of dark stores when she thought she heard footsteps behind her. She spun quickly but didn’t see anything. Maybe it had been in front of her. The acoustics of the buildings played havoc with her hearing. She picked up her pace as she became more and more nervous. She thought about how she’d spent all her life running up and down these streets with her brother, ducking in and out of doorways playing tag. She needed to get a hold of herself. How silly she was being—there was nothing here. She took a deep breath and let it out in hopes of calming herself.

Only one more block and she would be on her own street. She thought she heard something again behind her but refused to let her imagination get the better of her. What sounded like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard raised all the hairs on the back of her neck. She turned this time, now walking backwards, to see if she saw anything, but nothing made itself known. She turned back around and someone stood inches from her—and then the lights went out for Bree.

* * *

Darby woke Friday morning in the usual way with Harry standing on her chest, meowing in her face. Wake up! I’m hungry! Hello! To have a twenty-five-plus-pound cat standing on you hurt even if you hadn’t just had surgery. Much to Harry’s dismay, Darby pushed him to the side and off the bed and snuggled in close to her sleeping vampire prince, Devon. She kissed him softly, hoping not to wake him, but it was not her who did the waking. It was the discarded furball tossed to the floor who decided if he couldn’t get her to feed him, he would