Page 3 of Missing Moon

A scoff comes from the trees on the left. Tammy, in her leaf-dress, steps out looking totally like the wild, angry forest nymph she is. “Is this dickhead serious, or is he making an awful joke about L.A.?”

His eyebrow twitches. He’s annoyed.

Meanwhile, Shannon twists around to look at Tammy, then Anthony, then me. She squirms a little as if to say, ‘hey, I’m still tied up. Little help please.’

“Wow. Stupid cultists.” I shake my head and gently swipe my sword at the duct tape around Shannon’s ankles, freeing her legs. “At least now I know you guys have no damn clue what you’re doing.”

Murmurs go around the ring of cultists. They’re all still brandishing knives at us, though none of them have yet summoned the courage to test my fencing skills—which are not shabby at all if I do say so myself.

“Virgin doesn’t meanthat.” I help Shannon sit up, then slice the tape off her wrists. “In a ritual sense, it means using blood that has never before been used with magic. Has nothing to do with sex.”

Leader guy jabs a finger at me. He’s about to yell (probably an order to kill us) when a sudden eruption of brambles bursts from the ground all around us, tangling the feet of the cultists. Vines and leaves brush at my legs but don’t grab on. Faint green light emanates in a halo from Tammy.

The look on the cultists’ faces is absolutely priceless. This is, without a doubt, the first time any of them have seen real magic. Watching their confidence collapse in real time is gratifying. I’m about to make a wiseass remark when a strong sensation comes from the man I kicked, the one who had been seconds away from murdering Shannon. Uh oh. Feels like he just died. Dammit. Not what I wanted to do but… he was seconds away from murdering a child. I’m not going to feel too guilty about removing him from the gene pool.

All of a sudden, the cultists scream in agony, except for the leader.

He stands there, dumbfounded, having gone wide-eyed and gawking.

I shoot a look at Tammy. She shakes her head as if to say, ‘I’m not doing that.’ I shift my gaze to the cult leader. He turns toward the dead body still lying on the ground where he landed. Dude hasn’t moved at all since I hit him. The way his head is positioned… I think I broke his neck. Ack.

A sudden fiery glow draws my attention to Anthony, who’s now holding his fiery broadsword. He’s dropped into a fighting stance. Before I can ask why, the screaming cultists lapse into convulsions. The forest fills with the rapid crunching of bones and the wet squishing of flesh compressing and expanding; bodies twist and collapse in on themselves, bending in ways humans are not meant to move.

The cultists in the ring, plus the one I killed, burst upward into geysers of gore, each man’s muscle and sinew hovering in an unrecognizable levitating mass for the span of half a breath before reworking itself into the shapes of demonic beings.They’re like five-foot-tall bat-winged little goobers with dull green skin and bodies somewhere between gargoyles and goblins. All of them fidget and shift about like a group of hungry factory workers watching the lunch truck pull up five minutes late. The thirteen spindly limbed demons creep closer in a circle around me, staring malevolently with pale white circular eyes brighter than the moon.

Shannon spins around atop the altar in a frantic search for an escape path… but the demons are everywhere. Unable to go in any direction without gettingcloserto monsters, she simply covers her eyes and repeatedly whispers ‘this isn’t real’ to herself.

Of the cultists, the only one who didn’t undergo a demonic explosion is the leader. I’m certain this fact is not due in any way to his skill, ability, or importance. The demons are messing with him. Can’t expect an idiot like him to get this, though. He proves his stupidity by giving me this imperious stare and an appropriately corny, arrogant laugh.

“See? You were wrong,” I say, pointing at the demon now standing where the man I kicked lay a moment earlier. “Demons aren’t terribly picky about sacrifices. I’m going to guess that guy wasn’t a virgin, yet his death still worked to complete your ritual.”

I’m honestly shocked someone who didn’t even understand the meaning of ‘virgin’ as it relates to ritual magic managed to invoke something successfully. Cult leader guy sets his hands on his hips like that guy from the irritated meme. “Okay, fine. You were right. Virgin doesn’t meanthat. Our summoning still worked.”

“Except for the important part you’re forgetting,” says Tammy.

As if he’s getting a headache, the cult leader pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “What now?”

Tammy gestures around at the area. “I don’t see a binding circle. You idiots summoned the demons but forgot to implement any sort of control.”

Cult guy rolls his eyes.

The nearby demon glances at the leader and kinda shrugs while gesturing at her. Its body language says ‘she’s right.’

This dude is totally oblivious. It’s pretty rare that I think a person’s death will move the global average IQ, but this man is definitely a candidate. To be fair, it takes a special kind of stupid to summon demons to begin with. This guy probably thinks gas station sushi is safe.

“Any other wisecracks before my minions rip the flesh off your bones?” asks the cultist.

“Mommy,” whispers Shannon.

“Shh,” I say to her. “We got this. You’re safe now. Just… keep your eyes closed.”

The poor girl gives me a ‘yeah, right,’ stare.

“I’ve only got one thing to say.” Anthony steps toward the ring of demons.

“Oh? What’s that?” asks the cult leader.

Anthony unfurls his angel wings, stretching them out to either side and flooding this little bit of forest with a brilliant golden glow. He leans forward, eyes flashing white. “Bring it.”

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