Jacob. Jacquelyn Frank

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СКАЧАТЬ sit,” Noah said, using a soft, comforting turn of voice to soothe her. “You need to calm down before you drop your babe too early. You have done the right thing by coming to us. Jacob and I will get to the bottom of this.”

      “But if he is enslaved…” Myrrh-Ann shuddered violently from head to toe. “Noah, how is this possible? Why? Why my Saul?” Myrrh-Ann lowered her voice to a rapid, breathless whisper of panicked, babbling words. The two others in the room could barely follow all the implications of her shattering thoughts as she rambled.

      Could this be accurate? There hadn’t been a Summoning of a Demon in almost a century. It was possible she was mistaken. Demons had once been threatened to near extinction from this horrific act of enslavement. It had been a necromancer’s trick, a black sorcery that had faded in frequency as Christianity, science, and technology had come to reign. With the demise of such magics, peace had come.

      The exceptions to that peace were obvious—the uncontrollable periods of madness that plagued them during the Hallowed moons, dodging relentless human hunters, and the occasional skirmish with other Nightwalker races.

      As long as there has been the world, there have been Nightwalkers: the races of the night who breathed the nighttime air best, felt refreshment in the moonlight, and used the sun as a heavenly orb meant to be slept by. Demons, Vampires, Lycanthropes, and more shared these traits, if not always the same moralities and beliefs.

      For as long as there have been Nightwalkers, there were those who sought to hunt them, humans armed with ignorance and folklore who stumbled about trying to murder them. These humans, fearing what they didn’t understand, were fanatical in their quest to rid the world of the so-called creatures of pure evil. While normal human hunters did not faze the Demon race much, human magic-users known as necromancers were another issue entirely. In their spells lay a fate far worse than death for any Demon captured.

      Myrrh-Ann’s accusations could mean a crashing disruption in the balance of their world. It would mean that this ultimate magical threat had somehow become reborn. Some would say such a thing was inevitable as the recent human fascination with cults and dark magic had intensified, but the speculation was a far cry from the actual occurrence. A human magic-user? After all this time? Myrrh-Ann’s story made it frighteningly possible.

      “Noah, take care of Myrrh-Ann. I will track Saul.”

      “No! Oh, please!” Myrrh-Ann screamed. She made a mad leap for Jacob, who easily floated out of her reach and began to rise slowly into the air, intent on getting on with his grim duty. He felt wind suddenly swirl about in a room where there should be none, felt her tempestuous outrage rising, a reflex to her fear.

      “Myrrh-Ann, time is short,” Jacob said, his voice curt and reverberating against the high ceiling as he neared it. It froze her hysteria within her laboring chest. The air condensed and went still as he got her attention. “If I can find him in time, I can try to save him. If I cannot, then you know what my duty is. Believe me when I tell you I would rather bring him back to you and the babe.”

      With that said, the Enforcer disappeared in a streak of arrowed dust.

      “He will kill him! He will murder my Saul!” Myrrh-Ann wailed, sobs ripping from her body.

      “If it comes to that, Myrrh-Ann,” Noah murmured softly, “it will mean the Saul we have loved is long gone already.”

      Isabella turned from the window when her sister’s key sounded in the door.

      “Hey, Corr, have fun?” she greeted while turning back to her stargazing.

      “It was okay,” her sister replied, dropping her keys on the table and shrugging out of her jacket. “He’s a nice guy. Maybe too nice.”

      Isabella rolled her eyes, seeking guidance from the stars.

      “How can a guy be ‘too nice’ in this day and age?”

      “So speaks the great dating expert,” Corrine rejoined tartly. She couldn’t recall Isabella ever going out on a date, not even in high school. Corrine shrugged, clearly lacking understanding of her sister’s antisocialism.

      Isabella turned from her contemplation of the moon.

      “So explain to me what ‘too nice’ means.”

      “Well, let’s see…” Corrine mused, moving to stand next to Isabella, joining her in looking out at the October night. “He’s very nice, very polite, and very predictable. I guess that’s what I’m saying. He’s nice, but not very exciting. Maybe you should go out with him.”

      Isabella laughed, her eyes widening in humor. “Did you just insult me?”

      “No, not at all.” Corrine chuckled, draping an arm over Isabella’s shoulders and hugging her tightly. “I just would like to see you meet a nice guy. Even if he is ‘too nice.’ Although I don’t think this one would easily adjust to the stuff that comes out of your mouth on occasion. Oh, and perhaps I should warn him that even though I am the redheaded sister, you are the one with the scary temper.”

      “Ha! It wasn’t me who plagued Mom with the rebellious adolescence from hell.”

      Corrine laughed. “And it wasn’t either of us who plagued Daddy with Mom’s temper.”

      The sisters giggled in commiseration. Each knew exactly where they had earned their outspoken ways and stubbornness from, genetically speaking.

      “Well, thanks for the offer of your hand-me-down boyfriend,” Isabella said with a smile, “but I think I’ll decline.”

      “Suit yourself.” Corrine shrugged, leaving her sister and crossing into the kitchen. She peeked into the refrigerator.

      Isabella turned back to the window and studied the moon a while longer. There was always something about it that got her juices flowing. Lately, she was restless, craving…something. She didn’t know what. Being cooped up in the house was driving her mad, though. What she really wanted was to be out and walking around. Or running.

      She mentally shook her head. Running after midnight in the less savory parts of the Bronx? No wonder people used to think the full moon made people crazy. If anyone could read her thoughts right now, they wouldn’t recognize her as the calm, bookish Isabella they all knew and loved. That and they would probably nail her to the floor for her own safety.

      In fact, Isabella had frequently wondered if the people who knew and loved her actually knew her at all. How could others know her, when she was beginning to doubt she even knew herself?

      She lived a comfortable, quiet life, rather pathetically stereotypical for a single librarian. She even had the requisite pair of cats. She loved her books. There was such a wealth of information to be had, so much to learn, so many stories being told. Her appetite for it all had never once wavered since the day she had learned to read. She had probably forgotten more information than most people ever read.

      However, where books had always been key to her contentment before, Isabella was now somehow…dissatisfied.

      Isabella reached for the window and opened it swiftly, leaning out past the unscreened frame and into the cool, bright night. Everything always looked so different when the moon shone as brightly as the sun. Unlike the sun and its golden glow, the moon turned everything pale or silver. Shadows were long and mysterious, the boring black asphalt becoming a highway of incandescent СКАЧАТЬ