Page 2 of Missing Moon

Anthony pats my finger in a way that means ‘go ahead and drop me.’

His confidence short circuits my logic, so without thinking, I release my hamster-sized son into free fall while I’m in the middle of a power dive. We’re notthathigh up. Even if he hits the ground, he’ll be fine.

A frightening scene clarifies through the rapidly thinning trees in front of me.

Several figures in dark clothing surround a stone slab ‘altar,’ upon which a terrified blonde girl squirms and thrashes around. Two men fight to hold her down while a third guy stands poised over her with a knife. She appears to have her hands tied behind her back, her ankles tied together, and is putting up one hell of a fight, twisting side to side to make it as hard as possible for the maniac to stab her in the heart.

As ridiculous as this is, it’s really happening.

Weirdo freaking cultists are about to murder this kid. I’ve literally got three seconds to make the difference between her surviving and not.

Before I even realize what my brain is doing, I’ve flipped around and turned my angel-winged dive into some sort of crazy quasi flying kick somewhere between Bruce Lee andJapanese anime. The sole of my sneaker rams into this guy’s face so hard his jaw crumbles under my heel with a rippling crunch similar to a stepped-on branch.

The force of my kick hammers the would-be killer into the dirt so hard he bounces up, flips over, and goes sliding several feet away from the altar. I drop straight down onto my feet where he’d been standing. Somehow, I have the presence of mind to dissipate my wings before anyone really gets a good look at them. They’re black, it’s dark, and I have ‘sudden appearance out of nowhere’ shock factor.

Not too far in the distance, a heavythudtells me a normal-sized Anthony has landed.

The nine or ten people in a ring around me are too far away to present an immediate threat to the girl unless they happen to be carrying guns. I whirl to face the slab. A scrap of duct tape hangs limply from Shannon’s cheek, no longer covering her mouth. She appears to be bound with more duct tape, arms behind her back. Her clothes: pink jacket, white shirt, jeans, make me think they grabbed her while she walked home from school—or soon after arriving at her house.

Well, for one thing, she wasn’t grabbed by a creep. That’s good. On the other hand, what the actual crap? Cultists trying to conduct an actual human sacrifice? What the frick century am I in?

A man in a dark, hooded cloak holds Shannon down by the shoulders while another guy at the opposite side of the slab holds her ankles. Shock from my sudden arrival seems to have caused the girl to stop struggling; she lays there staring up at me, face streaked with tears. The sight of a kid this young, who knows they just came close to death, enrages me.

By some miracle, I manage to hold myself back from going on a rage-fueled killing spree and simply lunge at the man holding her shoulders. I palm his face and shove. The guy’s smart enough to let go of the girl, which probably spares himfrom a broken neck. Knocked off his feet, he takes flight for a few yards, then crashes down into a stumble before eating dirt and rolling over a few times. When I spin to glare at the other guy holding the girl’s legs, he lets go of her and backpedals far enough to join the circle of cloaked weirdos, giving me a WTF stare. Not sure if he noticed my wings, but he just watched a relatively small woman throw a guy twice my size ten feet with one hand.

A cultist emits an annoyed sigh. “Interruptions… again. What are you fools waiting for? Kill this intruder and let us resume.”

I shift my attention to him. He’s the only one of the group wearing a robe that isn’t plain black. His has embroidered stuff around the sleeves and collar resembling runic markings or some sort of occult symbols. Must be their idiot leader.

Anthony steps into view out of the woods. “I’d advise against that.”

The cultists not already facing him twist around to look at him.

My son is tall. No one seeing him would guess in a million years he hasn’t hit eighteen yet. He is not, however, terribly intimidating in a T-shirt and jeans… with no visible weapons. At least he doesn’t seem to worry a dozen nutjobs out in the woods. I don’t think even Anthony expects them to hesitate just because he asks them to.

Tammy is probably hiding out nearby, perhaps in the shape of a panther. My guess is she’s waiting for the best opportunity to swoop in and grab Shannon and get her out of danger when the cultists are distracted. Either that, or she’s waiting to see how much of a threat these guys are before committing to violence. There isn’t really a ‘gentle’ way for a panther to fight a human, after all. If she’s going to draw blood, she wants to make sure it’s deserved.

And unfortunately, she can’t turn them all pixie-sized. From what she says, it’s alotharder to do to someone who isn’t a willing recipient. Impractically difficult, even, which is why she hasn’t even tried, however hilarious it would be to have a six-inch-tall cultist threatening me without realizing he’s been miniaturized.

The leader gestures dismissively at Anthony. “More interruptions. This is unacceptable. Kill them both.”

All eleven or so guys in the ring flip their cloaks open, revealing relatively normal street clothes… and large knives that they pull from sheaths on their belts.

Okay. I can play that game, too.

I twist the cap off my canteen—yes, I brought it for this exact purpose—and reach for the opening. Water responds to my magic, gushing out. I grab the stream as if it were a solid object and effectively ‘draw’ my ice sword into existence. Its blue glow appears to give these ritualists pause. Like something out of a Clint Eastwood movie, we all stand there in silence, eyeing each other, waiting to see who flinches first.

If I wasn’t so upset about the fact these bastards were about to murder a child, I’d probably find their reaction to a glowing sword humorous. Their two-plus-two equals five expressions are somewhat amusing.

Once I’m reasonably sure none of them are willing to make the first move and find out what a glowing ice sword actually does to human flesh, I shift my attention to the one who acts like their leader.

“Ishoulddrag all of you to the police… but you sick freaks were about to murder a child.” I narrow my eyes, trying to sound harder than I am. No, I don’t really want to kill them all. Here’s hoping intimidation works. Honestly, I’m not really sure what to do with them. Letting them leave so the police can deal with them later feels wrong. Trying to arrest them myself is perhaps impractical, at least not without violence. Bleh. The best thing I can think of in two seconds is to scare them off for now. As long as Shannon is safe, I can worry about tracking them down another day. “Give me one good reason why I don’t just bury all of you out here where no one will ever find your bones.”

Their leader sighs again, giving off an attitude like I’m the assistant manager telling him a work meeting got rescheduled for the sixth time. “Admittedly, I didn’t really want one so young, but we’re from Los Angeles.”

I tilt my head. “What the heck does L.A. have to do with you twisted bastards abducting a child?”

“We had to ensure we got a virgin,” says the guy in such a blank tone I think he’s completely serious.

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