Blood Moon Magic

By CJ Babikoff

Trapped in an abusive marriage and isolated within her husband's radically oppressive religion, Alondra had all but given up. Then a voice from her childhood slipped through the veil of death to remind her of an ancestry that could hold the key to her survival. All she needs to do is connect with the dormant magic within, by the rising of the blood moon. Success means survival and freedom. Failure would expose her plans to her husband who will kill her for daring a life without him. Can Alondra’s trauma-conditioned psyche fight for the courage to choose freedom while time runs out? One thing is clear: the primal red glow of the blood moon will either cloak her escape...or blaze a trail to her complete destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CJ Babikoff
• Release date: Mar 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215064757

CJ Babikoff

CJ Babikoff has always been fascinated by the existence of a world beyond that described by science or religion. She is always reading or watching anything she can on the topic. From various ancient civilizations and their traditions of gods and goddesses, magic and legends, to modern day tales, the subject never gets old. In between teaching, raising a family, returning to school again, and embarking on a new career, the author wanders around an unkempt two and a half acres with various animal and human friends, her head often tilted upwards to keep tabs on the lunar cycles, alert to whatever messages may be found in the beauty and mystery of the night sky.

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Blood Moon Magic

Copyright 2023 CJ Babikoff

Published by CJ Babikoff at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

First Quarter Moon October 24, 2001

Waxing Gibbous October 26, 2001

Waxing Crescent September 22, 2001

Earth Witch October 26, 2001

Waxing Gibbous October 27, 2001

Demon Preacher October 28, 2001

Waxing Gibbous October 29, 2001

Blood Moon Approaches October 30, 2001

Full Moon Battle October 31, 2001

About CJ Babikoff

Acknowledgements

This book would never have broken free from my brain without the help, encouragement and support of a very special group. To The Write Club--thank you for providing me with a reason to finally take deadlines seriously! Your advice, editing suggestions, enthusiasm and laughter has steered this book the whole way through. The energy that flows when we get together is honestly magical.

To my number one cheerleader and supporter, Chris, and to my entire family who has had to hear me talk about writing for years and years, and years and probably never thought it would happen, without all of you it is pretty easy to say that it wouldn’t have. I draw my inspiration and confidence from each one of you, and am lucky to be in your circle.

Finally, a shout out to my 6th grade teacher, Gary Peterson. He told me that I had to dedicate my first book to him back when I was an awkward 12-year old writing stories about monsters. So here, Mr. Peterson, I guess this one’s for you!

First Quarter Moon October 24, 2001

One week before Halloween Alondra pushed open the old screen door at the back of the house, trash bags in her hands. She stepped down the three wooden steps leading to the alley, avoiding the broken board on the second step. She’d stepped through it before when her distracted brain wasn’t paying attention. The resulting shin grazes were superficial but still not fun.

Always creepy, tonight the alley was projecting an especially strong vibe that made Alondra twitchy. The street lights were far down the other end of the narrow graveled road that traveled behind the houses on her block. Their light was thin, mangled by shrubs, leaning fences and ancient trees whose twisted and gnarled branches were reminiscent of the ones present in the collective memory of classically haunted forests. Distance and all the barriers meant the street lights emphasized shadows rather than assisted with seeing.

After disposing of the trash in the metal cans and replacing the lids with a clatter, Alondra paused for a moment. Though the alley was raising her heart rate and she was sure that every spot of puddled darkness held wicked eyes of creatures targeting her, it was still better than going back inside. Alondra had found out years ago that half-imagined shadow creatures were significantly less dangerous than the flesh and blood monster she had married. Returning to his lair meant returning to her living nightmare.

Wind shook the dried husks of weeds that had grown along the sides of the alley, sending out a clicking rasp to join the scuttle of leaves and groan of rubbing branches in a spooky serenade that quickened her pulse a few more beats. Somewhere in the branches of a nearby tree a bird shook its feathers and settled to roost. The clouds overhead were moving in a turmoil that warned of a brewing storm, their cover thick enough to mostly hide the moon.

Alondra knew it would be full on Halloween. That was her first thought in seeing its faint light trying to poke a hole in the clouds. Her second thought was that the day of the full moon was also her anniversary. Yes, she had wed her monster on Halloween. The thought almost made her laugh out loud but she choked the laughter back. She thought if she released it, she’d never be able to subdue the hysteria.

There had been a time she’d been quick to smile, to let joy burst from her throat in a simple expression of happiness. It was one of the first things that had attracted her husband to her, as he’d told her one time. That he’d dropped that piece of information on her while his behavior was producing the opposite reaction in her was, she supposed, some kind of irony.

Seventeen. She’d been a simple girl when he’d entered her sphere of awareness, though he’d apparently been watching her for years before that. Her parents had been flattered by his interest in her, he was such a powerful figure in their religion. Their minister, Brother Stiles, was likewise very excited about the attention Alondra had managed to draw to their congregation from the ‘big city boys’ as he’d put it.

Seventeen long years ago now. How strange that the early, tender years of her life had gone by so quickly while in the same amount of time she’d lived an eternity. Alondra had entered her elegant honeymoon suite happy, shy and even- god help her- a little curious. Almost immediately she was introduced to a horror and shame she had never imagined could exist. In one night the girlish dreams she held dear were shredded beyond salvage and fear planted in their place. Instead of beginning a sweetly anticipated future she’d nearly been annihilated.

Nearly.

Icy wind shivered through the dark alley and carried with it a grittiness that sandpapered Alondra’s cheeks. On a primal level she knew she’d been gone too long. Soon the screen door would slam open against the wooden siding of the house, springs screaming in protest, and he would shout her back inside. If he had to stir himself to fetch her it would not go well.

Yet something caught Alondra's mind, stilled her body, blocked out the fear of the alley. A whispery instinct tried to get her to pay attention.

Seventeen years old. Seventeen years ago. There is magic in numbers.

The thoughts seemed foreign, as though coming from without, rather than within. They almost seemed to express themselves with a voice, one that Alondra thought maybe she recognized.

A sudden loud bang from the house interrupted Alondra’s concentration. Though she’d jumped at the noise, a quick glance told her it wasn’t the backdoor and there was no sign of her husband stalking from the house, but the idea that he would be doing exactly that at any moment was enough to cause her to push her thoughts aside for the time being.

As she turned towards the backdoor her eyes fell upon a black shape on the top step. The very moment she looked at it, it seemed to ripple in a breathing motion. Her heart jumped and her throat clogged while her mind scrambled for a word and came up with

demon!

Just then the door burst outward, swinging in an arc inches from her face. The light spilling out from the mudroom dissolved the shadow and she saw it was just an old oil stain she’d forgotten was there.

Lonnie, there you are. I was starting to wonder where you got to.

Simon stood above her, looking down at her as a silhouette, backlit by the mudroom’s bright interior. She couldn’t see his features but knew they would be relaxed, his normally glacial eyes would be holding a slight warmth. It was the way he looked when he was in the mood for sex. And it was the only time he ever called her Lonnie instead of the more formal Alondra.

I..I.. Alondra cleared her clenched throat and forced the muscles to relax then tried again. I thought I saw something near the house and it scared me for a second.

Simon’s body immediately tensed and he held out a hand to help her into the house. She forced herself to place her fingers into his palm, willing them to be steady. A trembly Alondra was an aphrodisiac to him and he was already in a mood that she would not sharpen.

She stepped over the broken second step and Simon tugged her into the house, tucking her immediately in behind his large frame as he stared out into the dark yard.

Was it a person, some man sneaking around like the neighborhood pervert? He was still tense as he lifted his head as if to sniff the air like some predator. Simon was forever sure ‘neighborhood perverts’ were trying to spy on them, spy on her, and that was an invasion he would not tolerate even if it existed only in his warped imagination.

No, nothing that big. I think it was just a cat. Near the stairs. It just startled me for a second. Alondra had no idea where the words came from, or why she said she’d seen a cat. But it did the trick to diffuse his mood.

He relaxed, took another sweep of the dark yard with ever intense eyes, then withdrew into the house and shut the old wooden screen door, locking it with the hook and eye latch, then stepped back to close the solid back door, throwing the bolt and drawing the security chain at the top for good measure.

Simon pulled her slender frame into his much taller, heavier body. The top of her head hit below his shoulder making her feel like a child, a feeling emphasized as he walked her down the hall pressed into his hip, forcing her to lockstep with his longer stride. He reached into the kitchen to turn off the light, and then did the same to the lamp in the living room before stopping her so he could lock the front door and turn on the front porch light. He drew a gauzy curtain aside to peer out, then turned them both to the stairs where he released her to walk up ahead. His hand dropped from her shoulder to slide down her buttocks and then lower to lightly squeeze her inner thighs as they climbed the stairs towards their bedroom.

Simon was whispering to her the things he had planned for them and there was nothing she could do to prevent the shudder that vibrated through her. His response was immediate and he squeezed her thigh then cupped a buttock and gave it a pinch.

Alondra cursed herself and her cowardly spirit. In truth, she knew there was nothing that would change the trajectory of the night ahead, but she was still angry with herself for having spurred him in any way.

Sexually hungry Simon was different than cold-blooded violent Simon, but both of them were sickening in their lust to dominant. As her husband began to play his favorite games with her, Alondra felt herself fade. She was many years removed from the girl she’d been on her wedding night and she’d learned how to protect that girl somewhere deep within herself. Holding on to a tiny part of the person she had once been was the only thing that kept her from walking down to the river and letting its cool embrace carry her to a place Simon would never be able to reach.

A shaft of moonlight escaped the cloud cover and made its way through the window to fall on Alondra’s face. She turned towards it and opened her eyes. At once the words she’d heard from the back yard whispered through her mind.

Seventeen years old. Seventeen years ago. There is magic in numbers.

A brief pause and then

The blood moon comes, child. Be ready.

This time Alondra was less surprised to hear the voice that seemed to come from somewhere outside of her own thoughts. Her brain sorted through the swirling past patiently, slipping through layers of trauma and a former life she had blocked out, because to remember the past was to contrast it with her present and