Daughters of the Moon, Books 1 - 3 by Lynne Ewing
She opened the door and walked inside. The room smelled of dust and mothballs. She flicked on a light and searched through the dresses hanging on racks. She held a scarlet sequin dress to her chest and posed in front of the mirror. Too hot. She put it back and took a black mini. Too dreary. Then a blue as pale as a whisper caught her eye. She took the dress. The material was silky and clinging. Perfect for a goddess. On the floor below the dress sat strappy wraparound high-heeled sandals that matched the blue.
She didn’t understand why she needed to dress up to meet Stanton but the impulse to steal into the storage room had been rising in her since the sun set.
She took the dress and sandals back to her room, then sat on the floor and painted her toenails and fingernails pale blue. She drew waves of eternal flames and spiral hearts in silver and blue around her ankles and up her legs with body paints.
When she was done, she pressed a Q-tip into glitter eye shadow and spread sparkles on her lid and below her eye. With a sudden impulse she swirled the lines over her temple and into her hairline. She liked the look.
She rolled blue mascara on her lashes, then brushed her hair and snapped crystals in the long blond strands. She squeezed glitter lotion into her palms and rubbed it on her shoulders and arms. Last she took the dress and stepped into it. She turned to the mirror on the closet door.
A thrill ran through her. Her reflection astonished her. She looked otherworldly, a mystical creature . . . eyes large, skin glowing, eyelashes longer, thicker. Everything about her was more powerful and sleek and fairy tale. Surely this wasn’t really happening. Maybe she would wake up and run to school and tell Catty about her crazy dream. But another part of her knew this was real.
She leaned to one side. The dress exposed too much thigh.
“Good.” Her audacity surprised her. Another time she would have changed her dress. But why should she?
She took Catty’s moon amulet from her dresser and placed it around her neck, next to her own. When the two charms touched, silver sparks cascaded from the metals and remained bright stars on her skin.
She grabbed the shoes, tiptoed down the hallway to her mother’s room, and crept inside. She kissed her mother good-bye. The kiss remained visible on her mother’s forehead, all rainbow and glitter dust.
Finally, she turned, back straight and strong, and walked through the still house and out the front door. She sat on the porch steps and put on her sandals. As she tied the straps, it came to her with a sudden shock. She had been preparing for battle like a medieval knight, or an ancient warrior, with ritual and ceremony.
She stood. She felt ready.
She strolled luxuriously down the dark empty street as if she owned the night. Her heels clicked nicely on the cement walk. She didn’t feel self-conscious or fearful that people might see her. She felt good in her body, thrilled to belong in it. She whooped. It was a war cry. The lights in the house beside her flicked on.
Let them peek out their windows and see me, she thought.
Stanton had told her he would be waiting around the corner from her house the night she met him in the hills surrounding the Hollywood Bowl. She felt his presence before she even turned the corner.
Stanton stood silent against his car, his blond hair tousled in the night breeze. The car was sleek black metal, low to the ground, and spitting reflections from the street lamps. He glanced up when he saw her but didn’t move. His blues eyes met hers, and she glimpsed something predatory in them.
He took three quick steps toward her. She tried hard to keep herself steady. She didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t let herself feel afraid. The air between them prickled with static electricity. He smiled and she thought for a moment he was going to kiss her.
“I didn’t think you would come.” His breath was sweet and warm and mingled with hers.
“I’m here for Catty.”
She saw something in his eyes then. Was it disappointment? Maybe it had only been her imagination. He turned as if he didn’t want her to look in his eyes and walked away from her, his slow easy steps echoing into the night. He opened the car door. She followed him and started to climb into the car but stopped. She saw her image in the car window. A goddess. Her breath caught, heartbeat quickened. She couldn’t pull away from her reflection. It was as if the warrior goddess had emerged, and she looked less human, more dangerously beautiful. Stanton seemed to know what had stopped her.
“That’s how I’ve always seen you,” he said. “Since the first night.”
Her head jerked around and she caught something in his eyes before they turned hard again. It wasn’t her imagination this time. She definitely saw something gentle and caring.
“What do you mean by the first night? How long have you been watching me?”
“Awhile,” he smiled mysteriously. He took her hand and helped her into the car.
Her dress was too short and rode up her thighs. Her long legs stretched in front of her, glistening with glitter and entwined with flames and hearts.
He jumped in the driver’s seat, then turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared like slow, thick thunder. The car pulled away, and they drove toward the southeast side of Los Angeles. He merged into traffic on the Hollywood Freeway. Headlights cast light and shadow across their faces. They rode in uncomfortable silence, her body too aware of his presence. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and glanced at him.
“Is Catty all right?”
“You’ll see soon.” He cut in front of a speeding car.
“How did you . . .” she started to ask, but her mouth was so dry her words caught in her throat. She had to be braver. Finally, she asked, “How did you become a Follower?”
He glanced at her, then back at the freeway. “You don’t need to know”
She took another long breath. “I was just wondering if someone did to you what you did to Morgan.” There was too much challenge in her voice. She regretted it as soon as the words were spoken.
He grabbed her hand.
“Let me show you, then.” He drew her to him, forcing her to look in his eyes.
His eyes were startlingly compelling. She tried to pull away. She grabbed the steering wheel. The car swerved. A car honked and three cars sped around them.
Against her will, she felt herself pulled into his memories. She struggled desperately, trying to resist the terrible force. Then his mind was in hers, but it wasn’t as horrible as she had imagined. He seemed to be holding back as if he were afraid to frighten her. Then his memories flooded into her, coming so quickly they spun inside her, as if he had waited a long time to share them with someone. She clutched his hand tightly. She was afraid that if his hand let go she would remain lost in his memories. She saw a small blond boy hugging his grandfather’s tombstone. The same boy running after his mother when she left him in the care of another couple. And the boy waving good-bye to a man in plate armor riding a prancing black horse. The sad feelings associated with the memories overwhelmed her. His fear and grief and loneliness. Then she felt something else. Something she was sure he had wanted her to see. He had been following her that night a month back, but not to harm her, he had wanted to warn her. Of what? He had stopped following her when he felt the shadows of the Atrox watching him.
She could feel his sudden hesitation now, his need to hide those feelings and memories from her. Then his hand let go and she was falling into a deep black hole. She tried to grab the car seat. Her hands swooshed through empty air. There was nothing but darkness around her.
She had been deceived so easily. Now she was lost. What had Maggie said? The Followers had the power to imprison you in their most evil memories.
She tumbled in the black void.
Then she landed painfully on a cold rock floor.
She stood. Behind her milky light fell through a small window in a damp stone wall. She looked outside. A turret was above her, below a moat. The rising stench from the moat waters made her gag. She was in a castle. She must have been tr
The great hall behind her filled with a soft whimper. Was it Catty? At least they would be together.
She followed the sound to a plank wood door. She pushed against the heavy wood. The door opened slowly with a soft groan. She peered inside. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the utter darkness. A small boy sat on a large bed, crying. He didn’t seem aware of her presence. His eyes held something in the corner of the room.
She stepped to his bed. Unnatural shadows gathered overhead. Like black thunder clouds, the shadows surged and grew. Was that the Atrox? Suddenly, the shadows swept toward the boy. He shrieked and pulled the covers over his head.
Stanton might have deceived her and trapped her in another time, but she could still save this child. She pushed through the frenzied shadows and grabbed the boy. His body felt cold and thin as bones on an altar. She held him tight against her and ran.
The dark shadows swirled in anger, then charged after her with a savage whip of air. She staggered. The boy screamed.
“Don’t cry,” she soothed. “I’ll find a way to get us out.”
She ran from the room with the crying child down a vast hall. The furor of the shadows shook the stone walls.
At the end of the hall she entered a dark stairwell. The steps were twisting, steep, and narrow. She kept her shoulder against the wall for balance and plunged downward. The boy sobbed in her neck. His tears ran down her back.
The shadows whipped down the stairwell with tumultuous fury, howling like a squall. She tripped and fell. A force greater than she could have imagined stripped the child from her arms. She struggled to stand. Her hands searched frantically in the dark for the boy.
His crying became farther and farther away. Then he was gone.
A demon-dark shadow eclipsed the others. She knew instinctively that it was the Atrox. It seeped into her lungs with complete coldness. She struggled to breathe.
A hand reached through the darkness and grasped hers. It yanked hard.
Suddenly she was back in the car, clasping Stanton’s hand. She gasped for air. Had she only been lost in his memory? It had felt so real. What would have happened if he had not pulled her back?
“You tried to save me,” he whispered. “That was the night the Atrox took me from my home. You were going to fight the Atrox.” His finger wiped a child’s tear from her neck and held it in front of her eyes as proof.
“I’m sorry I didn’t save you.” She kissed the tear on the tip of his finger.
He seemed overcome with emotion. He snapped his hand back and tapped the steering wheel.
“No one could have saved me anyway.” He stared ahead of him, but when he spoke she saw a quick flicker of doubt cross his eyes. He seemed to be saying the words to convince himself.
He turned off the freeway into a dark and dangerous part of town. They were in an industrial area. Bleak warehouses lined the street.
“What happened that night?” she asked.
“That was the night I lost who I once was.” His voice choked. “Now I can no longer remember the person I used to be.”
“But why did it take you when you were just a boy?”
“My father was a great prince of western Europe during the thirteenth century. He’d raised an army to go on a crusade,” Stanton said.
“So he left you alone.”
“My father didn’t go on a crusade to the Holy Land. It was a crusade against the Atrox. The Atrox knew that by taking me, it could stop my father.”
Without being aware of what she was doing, her hand reached out to comfort him. She held his cold fingers. He looked at her with a different kind of longing then. Maybe no one had ever tried to comfort him before. He jerked his hand away as if her pity were too painful for him to endure. But before his hand left hers, a deeper knowledge seeped into her fingers. There was a part of him that wanted to escape his dark destiny.
“Maybe there is a way to reclaim your soul,” she offered.
“It was my choice,” he insisted.
“You can make another choice.”
“You can’t understand what it means to have lost hope, because you still have it.” He seemed angry now.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
She thought he was going to cry, but instead he smiled. That was far worse. It was a sad imitation of a smile, devoid of warmth and joy.
“Party time.” His foot slammed on the accelerator and the car skidded around the corner.
The new street was filled with cars and people waiting for the next band to play. Music blasted from car radios and heart-thumping stereos. Richter-scale blasts vibrated the cars’ exteriors. Girls sat in car windows, waving and flirting and flaunting their bodies. Guys in low-crotch jeans and baseball hats with clique initials showed off their custom cars. Others cruised looking for girls, checking things out.
Stanton parked the car. He got out, walked around the car, and opened her door. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her out. Only then did she realize how incredibly strong he was.
He kissed her then, a surprise, but so gentle and sweet, she let him. She wondered if Persephone had fallen in love with Hades when he abducted her and took her to live in the underworld. There must be a way to rescue him from this, she thought.
He put his arm around her and shoved through the crowd of kids waiting to go back inside the warehouse.
At the entrance, two large security guards frisked boys and opened purses. They confiscated pencils and pens, anything that could be turned into a weapon.
“Everything out of your pockets,” a huge security guard said to Stanton. “Anything I find left in your pockets is mine.”
Stanton glared at the man. “I don’t think so.”
The security guard took a stunned step backward as if he had seen something in Stanton’s eyes that made him afraid.
Stanton pushed around him and he and Vanessa entered the warehouse. It was noisy inside and Vanessa could feel the impatience rising in the crowd, anxious for the music to start again.
Security guards righted white metal barriers and set them in front of the stage. A large sign hung above them: MOSHING AND CROWD SURFING NOT ALLOWED.
Catty stood between Cassandra and Tymmie. She didn’t smile when she saw Vanessa. She looked quickly away. But not before Tymmie caught her look and followed it to Vanessa. He nudged Cassandra. The razor cuts on her chest were now covered with scabs. She looked at Vanessa with a hungry smile.
“How do I surrender my power?” Vanessa whispered to Stanton as the band ran onstage. The restless audience screamed and applauded.
“You don’t,” Stanton said and stepped away.
“I thought we were going to trade.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?” she asked.
“I lied,” he said simply.
The music started with a piercing scream. The crowd crushed forward, knocking over two barriers. Stanton jumped back as the crowd surged toward the stage.
Vanessa was squished into the mob. Then she saw Catty. She struggled around bobbing bodies over to her.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Catty yelled. “Now they’ll have you, too!”
Vanessa looked at the faces of the kids around them. Most of them were ordinary moshers, ravers, and punkers, but then she saw the angry faces of Cassandra, Tymmie, and Karyl staring back at her. Too late, she realized the plan had always been to destroy them both. It was so obvious now. Stanton had betrayed her. But why shouldn’t he? What had made her trust him? Maggie had warned her.
Cassandra and Karyl pressed closer. She could feel their thoughts invade her mind, a spectacle of swirling terrifying pictures.
“Don’t look in their eyes,” Catty warned, and yanked her away.
The band went full speed into punk rock.
The crowd around them exploded into thrashing fists and jumping bodies, knocking Cassandra and Karyl away.
Security guards ran t
Vanessa grabbed Catty’s hand as the fury of the crowd shoved them deeper into the mosh pit away from the Followers. A boy tore off his T-shirt and climbed on the shoulders of his friends. Hands grabbed him, held, touched, and pulled him across the heads of the audience, crowd surfing.
A girl climbed onto the stage, struggled around the security guards, and jumped into the crowd. Vanessa ducked as the girl landed on the sea of hands. Catty ducked too late. The girl’s boot thumped Catty hard in the forehead.
Surrender, Goddess. The thought hit Vanessa with the sharp strike of a headache. She turned quickly. Cassandra, Karyl, and Tymmie were back. Karyl’s eyes caught her and seemed to expand. She had a sudden mental image of Catty crushed beneath jumping feet. Karyl smiled, his eyes deep and mocking. Had he done that? She winced and the trance broke.
The music became a clash of air-ripping tones and head-splintering beats. The thrum of guitars and drums pulsated in Vanessa’s head, but it was the other pounding inside her mind that frightened her. Karyl and Tymmie and Cassandra pushed into her thoughts. Turn. Come back. She crawled on the sticky floor through jumping, kicking bodies. She was only three feet from Catty now, an impossible distance.
Cassandra’s thoughts grabbed Vanessa and twisted into her mind. You’re mine now, Goddess. Cassandra sent the words screaming through Vanessa’s head. She look at Vanessa and smiled, her pale face and garish makeup looked hellish in the flash of the strobe light. Vanessa tried to laugh. What had Maggie said about water on a flame? But she couldn’t make her mind focus. She looked in Cassandra’s blank eyes and saw tiny images of herself imprisoned in the black pupils. A cold electric feeling invaded her mind like tiny metal worms. Her fears and worries suddenly fell away. Only Cassandra’s eyes and Vanessa’s need to obey her remained.