Page 1 of Missing Moon

Chapter One

Ritual Semantics

Protecting my kids is something I always put first.

They say a mother is always willing to hold her son’s hand whenever he needs it, though I kind of doubt whoever ‘they’ are imagined a mother would ever be holding their son entirely in one hand. On a long enough timeline, I imagine the proverbial ‘they’ who came up with all these notions once probably existed in a time when magic and whatnot happened to be more commonplace. Perhaps the ancient version of ‘they’ might understand. Our modern ‘they’ would never believe Anthony is about six inches tall right now.

Not that I claim to be any sort of scholar about the past, but from what little I have seen, I’m convinced the world of 2,000 years ago wasvastlydifferent than what anyone today in the mainstream believes. History only goes as far as the people telling the stories. If everyone is lying… or they’ve been fooled, who knows what happened back then. Part of me thinks magic used to be common and certain groups that fear or hate magic waged war, won, and rewrote history to make it seem like magic had never been real. Or, maybe there had been some manner of great cataclysmic war that nearly wiped out humanity. Some people out on the fringe think that human society advanced into the nuclear age tens of thousands of years ago and nuked each other back into the stone age. What if it wasn’t nukes but magic? Could ancient societies have gotten into a magical war that nearly destroyed our species, and the survivors either never learned how to use it or were so afraid of magic’s potential they banned its study to the point where it died out?

Anyway…

So, yeah. I’m carrying Anthony in my hand at the moment.

Sure, he can fly on his own thanks to his status as an angel-in-training. And no, I do not have any regrets about the steps I took to save his life when he was little. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I’d rather have him still around the way he is now than not around at all.

The smallness is courtesy of Tammy, who is presently flying alongside me disguised as a hawk. We decided to take the ‘small Anthony’ approach for stealth reasons. Yes, he can fly… but he is incredibly obvious in the air. Since he is not a ‘full angel’ yet, they didn’t give him those weird powers to make people not see him. Or perhaps he simply hasn’t figured out how to do that yet.

It’s getting dark out… I think.

Kind of difficult for me to tell these days. I’ve gotten so used to being able to see at night, it’s become a bit challenging to realize when normal mortals would consider it dark. At least with me no longer being undead, the sunlight isn’t painful. Back then, reality existed in two modes: painfully bright or normal. Now, it’s pretty much ‘normal’ all the time no matter the hour. It is, as they say, a ‘good change.’ I also save a lot of money on sunscreen.

Since I don’t need it anymore, I mean.

Yeah, I’m rambling due to nerves.

Not scared for myself or my kids. This isn’t exactly a ‘dangerous’ mission we’re on. Honestly, I’d prefer personal danger. Thinking that I might end up dead if I screw up is barely a concern on my mind now. My biggest worry is searching for an abducted girl and finding her too late. Obviously, if I got myself killed (destroyed) or whatever the technical term is, I wouldn’t be around to mope and be upset about it. If we fail to find this kid before who-knows-what happens to her, that’s some guilt I’ll be carrying for a few centuries.

Miles and miles of forest rolls along below us. I constantly dread that I’ve overshot and debate turning around… but don’t. Just a little farther and we’ll find her, I keep telling myself.

Little background. We were just kinda at home about to have dinner when our phones started howling. An Amber Alert went out for this girl named Shannon Ross, a missing and presumed endangered fourteen-year-old from Los Angeles. The instant I looked at the message on my phone screen, the worst feeling punched me in the gut. Somehow, I justknewthat if I didn’t haul ass and find this kid fast, she wouldn’t survive the night.

Tammy and Anthony insisted on going with me. We left home while the sun was still up, so my daughter came up with the whole shrinking thing for Anthony. Yeah, I still leapt into the air on my wings but… mine don’t give off bright golden light. It’s a lot easier for me to zip into the sky unnoticed than Mr. Tiny Sun.

Being psychic can be tricky sometimes. They don’t exactly give you an instruction manual to explain how this stuff works. Knowing that this innocent kid’s life is in danger and time happened to beveryshort has my adrenaline pumping as bad as anything, even that time I fought the literal Devil.

Before I consciously realized what I was doing, I zoomed off in the first direction that felt correct. Something—which I hope is my psychic intuition—is leading me out here to thewoods. It’s simultaneously weird, but it makes sense. Creeps who prey on young girls hate witnesses. They want to remove their victim to a place where they can do whatever sick crap they have in mind without worrying about anyone interrupting them… not to mention the deep woods being a place where one could ditch a body and it would likely not be found for years if at all.

Grr. I hate that thought. I can’t stand the idea of referring to anyone younger than myself as ‘a body.’ Yeah, I know. Idealistic. Bad crap happens, but that doesn’t mean I have to like talking or thinking about it. I’m still not honestly sure that a creep abducted Shannon. I mean, it’s the obvious assumption. Professional assassins do not generally go after children. This girl is not famous nor connected to any prominent politicians or anything, so… yeah. She’s been kidnapped, and I feel certain she’s going to be killed. That leaves me making certain assumptions about whatever the kidnapper wants to do with her before he kills her. Okay, sure, I’m assuming it’s a he. For all I know, her mother has a psychotic friend that’s jealous of her having a daughter. Who knows?

All I know for sure is what little they had on the news. She didn’t make it home from school today and no one has a clue where she went. Stranger abductions are the scariest because they statistically end poorly for the victim.

And if I can stop the bad crap from happening…

Hence why I’m flying around out here, hoping my psychic ‘gut’ leads me to the right place.

A strange squeaking noise distracts me.

Takes a moment for my brain to process the sound as Anthony talking.

I peer down at him. He’s got his arms folded around my index finger, seems comfortable if perhaps a little annoyed at being so tiny. “Sorry, didn’t hearyou.”

He emits a sigh, then looks up at me. “Are you sure about this? Any chance you’re overreacting?”

“Don’t think so.” I nibble on my lower lip. “As soon as I saw that alert message, it hit me like a sack of bricks. She’s gotta be around here somewhere. It just feels right.”

Anthony seems about to say something sarcastic, then pauses, his expression going serious. Right as he starts to point toward the ground ahead, a scream echoes up from the trees.

I dive toward the unmistakable cries of a terrified teen girl. The desperation practically gives me rocket boosts. Her voice is so full of terror, it draws upon the deepest most primal momness in the pit of my soul.

---