Amber Moon (Moon Trilogy Part II)



  Amber Moon

  By

  C.L. Bevill

  Amber Moon

  Copyright 2010 by Caren L. Bevill

  Chapter One

  The prophecy of the elfish Court says

  that when the half breed prince meets his match

  in both magic and flesh, the court shall flourish…

  “He doesn’t look like an elf,” came the usual sardonic comment. “I thought elves were short, really short. Big ears, big noses. Wings, too. Doesn’t look like he has wings under that silk shirt.”

  Mirie looked through the high powered binoculars and thought that the man that they were watching was powerful with leanly corded muscles. The pale blue silk shirt he was wearing showed every ripple of his physique. Mirie had seen her fair share of handsome men, but Samson Anarion was easily the forerunner on her top ten list. He had long hair, as straight as night, and as unfathomably dark as sin. It fell to the area between his shoulder blades when it was loose and when it was tied back, as it was now, it looked positively wicked. He was a tall man, standing well over six feet, but it was his face that was the most arresting. His cheekbones slashed to his chin and his eyes were the color of diamonds, sharply stunning, dynamic, and utterly enthralling. It was an attractive face even with a slicing white scar that ripped through one of his eyebrows, crossed over his eye and faded down his cheek, intersecting with the well-defined cheekbone.

  He looked like an elfish pirate.

  “I don’t see how anyone can think he’s human,” she murmured to Jack Drake, her partner on the surveillance team.

  Jack was tall, and gray eyed as well, but he was rough and hewn from stone, a man who was on a mission, and nothing else. His hair was the color of silver, prematurely gray, but he had once said it had always been that color. And he was only a few years older than Mirie. He was also utterly human and full of arrogance and declaration. “He’s a pretty boy,” he said lowly. “For a fairy.”

  “Elf,” Mirie corrected. “A prince of the High Court. Son of the king. He’s an eighth son, however. And half human by all reports. His mother was quite beautiful and very human. Still, they trust him in this world to take care of business investments.”

  Jack scowled and Mirie sensed it without looking at her partner. He didn’t think much of otherworldly creatures, whether they were vampire, werewolf, or elf. If he knew what she was, she wasn’t sure if he would continue to trust her. Jack had issues with the paranormal, and for good reason, considering that his family had been slaughtered by something otherworldly, leaving him an orphan when he was twelve years old. The Committee had taken him in, and as an adult, trained him to be a field agent, just as they had Mirie. Mirie had come by her skills in a different manner, albeit more mysteriously.

  “They come from another plane of existence,” Jack said grimly. “Yet they want to do business in our world, unbeknownst to the general public. What do they invest in? Stocks and bonds? Microsoft? It doesn’t seem right.”

  “The elves don’t cause harm to humans. You need to read your research briefings better.” Mirie glanced at Jack and then back at Samson Anarion. They were perched on a roof top five hundred yards away from Anarion’s penthouse suite. Anarion had come out onto his luxurious patio in order to perform his daily exercises. He stripped off the silk shirt and Mirie got another look at his toned and compelling form. She also got a look at the rash of white scars across his back. Fully a dozen crisscrossed his skin, and gave him the appearance of a man who had been whipped into near death.

  “They have their own agenda,” Jack said. “Not one that supports humans. If it comes down to them or us, they’re going to screw us over every time.”

  Mirie shrugged. She didn’t think elves were the worst of the otherworldly creatures that walked in humanity’s shadows. Vampires, shapeshifters, djinns, and ghouls were all worse in that they preyed on the human population. Often they left only pools of blood and bizarre questions for clueless, unauthorized authorities. Only the mysterious Committee, of which Mirie was an active field agent, made advancements to protect the human race. The Committee had numbers of paranormal experts and field agents and an agenda that Mirie mostly agreed with. But there were always exceptions.

  Moving into a more comfortable position, she braced the binoculars on the edge of the building. Jack shifted uneasily beside her. He could see Anarion’s figure and didn’t need the binoculars to understand that their quarry was performing his exercises on his outdoor patio. Mirie took a deep breath and watched Anarion move with precision and skill. The routine seemed like a combination of Tai Chi and Karate, but she had an idea that it was really an Elfish martial art that required superior concentration. Anarion moved in a manner that men could not. He jumped higher, his kicks went on longer, and a leather punching bag on the patio appeared as though it would soon need to be replaced because it was very well worked.

  It was the third time she had watched Anarion do his practice, but she still stared, fascinated. After forty minutes of elaborate exercise, he stopped to take a deep breath, his chest heaving with exertion, and he looked directly at Mirie. A tiny smile crossed his face and she suddenly knew that he was aware of their observation, that he had been aware of them for some time. She nearly dropped the binoculars. Then she noticed something else.

  “Is he looking at us?” Jack said quietly.

  “Yes,” Mirie said immediately. “And he’s got the artifact.”

  Jack perked up immediately. “On him, now?”

  “It’s his belt buckle.” The two faceted amber gemstones mounted on a golden plate decorated the belt at Anarion’s waist. “The Eyes of the Amber Moon has been molded to be a fashion utensil.” Mirie brought the binocs back up to Anarion’s face and saw that he was still watching her. She knew that the elves had superior vision, but it seemed as though he wasn’t surprised that they were there. Furthermore, she thought she could see a touch of triumph in his expression. Uneasiness filled her being. Elves didn’t like unnecessary attention to their activities and the Committee had squabbled with them before. “Uh-oh. Jack. Time to go. He’s too unassuming.”

  Mirie jumped to her feet, damning herself for her gullibility. Elves knew things; some were clairvoyant. How he had known they were watching him wasn’t a huge question to answer, but it meant that obtaining the Eyes of the Amber Moon would be all the more difficult.

  They had use of clairvoyants themselves. One of their best had said that the Eyes of the Amber Moon was connected with the Elfish princeling. Consequently they had set up a loose surveillance of Samson Anarion, the half-elf who lived like a wealthy lord in the city of angels.

  The first part of the otherworldly triumvirate had been acquired by Isabella Morgan a month before. The thought had made Mirie smile because she knew that Isabella was a diehard bibliophile. The Book of the Black Moon had been retrieved from a werewolf clan who didn’t have a clue what they had possessed. On the other hand, Isabella had reputedly nearly died at the werewolves’ hands and had been saved by the bite of one of the cat clan’s most fearsome warriors. The Committee didn’t mind that one of their librarians was now a shapeshifter, but they did mind about her impending marriage to the same warrior and her resulting resignation from the Committee.

  It didn’t matter to Mirie either. Isabella deserved her happiness and if a werejaguar was the cause of it, then power to her and her newfound love. Mirie just hoped for an invite to the wedding. She’d never been around a shapeshifter clan and she was very interested in the prospect.

  If she managed to make it through the rest of this particular day. “Head in the game, kid,�€
 Jack muttered. “Evacuation plan Alpha Charlie. Meet you at Starbucks in ten.”

  Mirie gathered up her sparse equipment and cast a glance at the Elfish prince again. Anarion was still staring at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, he wasn’t looking at Jack at all. He was staring at her. Only her.

  Even across the distance between the two buildings their eyes connected. For a long, endless moment she could feel herself falling into those diamond colored eyes. A shiver of sensation billowed down her back and made goose bumps appear on the skin of her arms. An odd sensation of power and sensuality coursed over her as if they had an intimate linking. The expression on his face wasn’t discernable without the binocs, but Mirie knew that his shoulders suddenly straightened and he stepped toward her, as if he could reach out and touch her trembling flesh.

  Mirie knew what Anarion was seeing and she didn’t imagine that her appearance abruptly riveted him. She was a young woman in her late twenties, apparently human, with pale blonde hair twisted efficiently into a French braid at the back of her head. The clothing was simple and utilitarian serving. A nondescript T-shirt covered her shapely top and pencil legged jeans her bottom. The autumn day had allowed a leather jacket that ended at her trim waist. A black pack sat on her back.

  Jack murmured, “Oh, crap.”

  Mirie finally broke away from Anarion’s intent gaze to glance over her shoulder and saw the Elfish trio of bodyguards was positioned at the stairway entrance to the rooftop they were standing on. All three topped Jack’s six feet two inches and were as broad as barns. All held elaborately decorated weapons of some form or another. One had a katana style knife. One had a broadsword. The third held nunchucks. Their intense expressions revealed that not only that they knew how to use the weapons, but that they were ready to do so at the slightest provocation. “Shit,” she said.

  “Evacuation plan Bravo Charlie?” Jack ventured with a quick grin at her. He adjusted the pack on his back, ensuring that the buckles were secured.

  Mirie glanced downward and swallowed. Heights were fine and dandy as long as she was standing on something solid. Thirty floors up were great as long as one stayed on the building. She looked across to Anarion again and saw that his hands were braced on the retaining wall of his exterior patio. She couldn’t make out his expression but his body language appeared consternated; it was almost as though he had an idea of what they intended and was concerned for their safety. No, her safety.

  “You first,” Mirie said with a quaver. Maybe if Jack went first and the bodyguards started toward them, then she wouldn’t hesitate.

  Jack blinked at her.

  “Stop!” one of the bodyguards yelled. Mirie looked at the elf with an expression of distaste. Thirty feet away and closing fast, they had figured out that Jack and Mirie didn’t exactly need to use the stairs and the elevator.

  “As if,” she said. I can do this, she told herself.

  Jack spun and jumped off the side of the building.

  Mirie was a heartbeat behind him. She stepped back two steps to make sure of the clearance from the side of the building. She didn’t want to slam into the glass windows below, nor did she want to fall into Jack. She heard him yell from below. There was a distant whoosh that indicated the compact parachute on his back had deployed.

  Simultaneously there was the pounding of footsteps behind her. The bodyguards were to capture them and ascertain their threat level. It was possible they’d been onto the two agents from the first day and curious as to their intent. Mirie knew that meant that Anarion’s pretty patio was ensorcelled from weapons. That meant that the elf court valued his life more than the Committee had deduced.

  Mirie had no time left. She let loose with her legs and took one step before she plowed into a figure that hadn’t been there before. Anarion let her bounce off his hard figure without so much as a grunt. It was like hitting a wall. She counterbalanced with her legs and attempted to go to one side. He stepped to the side even as she did. His hands actually went up to her shoulders to help steady her, but she wasn’t standing still for him. Mirie went backwards so fast, she nearly tripped.

  But she wasn’t down. She turned the motion into her advantage, whirling her body around and kicking up at the same time, the side of her heavy boot coming in contact with the jaw of the nearest bodyguard. The second one came in with full speed, his sword turned to the flat side, determined on disabling her. Effortlessly, she shifted to one side and he flew past her even as the first one hit the deck.

  The third one checked, his black eyes darting toward Anarion. Mirie sidled to the left, so she could see both elves. If she could get off the roof, she could make it to the street. The Committee wasn’t jazzed on agents getting caught by their subjects. But the Elfish court wasn’t jazzed about the mostly human group spying on them, either.

  Anarion suddenly smiled at her and his attractive face became indescribable. Mirie was caught in his gaze for a moment. He’d teleported to the building from his. It was a bit of intel that the Committee didn’t have before. It meant that while Anarion was half-human, he was still one of the more powerful elves. Eighth son or not, he was a potent elf, and they were making certain he stuck around for the interim. His gemstone eyes glittered at Mirie. “Who are you?” he said and his voice was throaty and lyrical at the same time, not a hint of an Elfish accent.

  “Just checking the roof,” Mirie snapped back. The bodyguard to her side, the one with the nunchucks, was trying to corral her between the one who had almost body checked her and Anarion. “Earthquakes in the area and all that.”

  Anarion snorted.

  Mirie didn’t like being herded. She feinted left and moved to her right. One of her arms shifted inside her jacket and in the next second a ten inch blade appeared in her hand. It glowed with a dim violet light that was equal to the color of her eyes. It was her only protection and one she wouldn’t use lightly. It was a distinctive weapon that had been created with her blood and tears by a Master Warlock who worked for the Committee. Mirie had worked on her immediate boss, Nehemiah, for weeks in order to get him to agree to the blade. It had been worth the effort; the weapon hadn’t let her down yet.

  “Witch blade,” Anarion breathed. The bodyguard with the nunchucks froze for an instant. The other one with the katana knife moved into position on Anarion’s side; the weapon was raised on a forty-five degree angle to the ground, ready to strike immediately.

  Unexpectedly Mirie was overwhelmed by the scent of lavender and clover and sunshine, all wrapped up into one. It caught her by surprise and her eyes went wide. She backed up another step and shook her head slightly to clear her head. The Committee wasn’t going to appreciate that their surveillance had gone so far south. Furthermore, if she had to kill one of the Elfish court to free herself because of her inability to focus, they were probably going to put her in a magicked cage or have her working in the lowest basement for the next thirty years. Or worse they would give her to the Elfish court for their brand of retribution.

  “Is she a witch?” said Nunchucks with a grim tone. The word ‘witch’ was said with the denotation of something truly evil.

  “Kill her,” said Katana Knife definitively.

  Anarion inhaled deeply. His muscled chest expanded exponentially. His face turned to the breeze wafting across Mirie and toward him. “Not a witch. Something else. Something very interesting.” He shook his head in an apparent mimicry of hers.

  Mirie took another step back. By this time Jack was on the ground and realizing that Mirie wasn’t with him. He would be calling for reinforcements. All Mirie had to do was refrain from killing anyone and from revealing what her mission entailed, and rescue would be coming within minutes.

  “Tell me who you are,” Anarion said and his voice was a breathy incantation. He was using all his power to influence Mirie.

  Mirie edged to the side and Anarion mirrored her moment. She brought the enchanted blade a
round and Nunchucks growled at her. She used the moment and feinted again. They should have learned. The unconscious elf was falling to the ground before she put both feet to the ground again.

  “Obviously, I need to reassess my security,” Anarion said with a wry grimace.

  Katana Knife said, “Sire, you should return to the hold. There’s no telling what one like this could do.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t back a girl into a corner,” Mirie countered. “Then she wouldn’t have to put you down.” There wasn’t enough room to run to the side of the roof and Katana Knife looked really pissed off.

  Anarion looked considering. “Just tell us who you are and why you’re watching me.”

  “Would you believe I’m a journalist?” Mirie asked mirthlessly.

  “No,” he said shortly. “A beautiful woman who crackles with inner power, one who has the influence to control a witch blade, a weapon with intense energy, isn’t just merely a human with a hack job.”

  “Hey, I have friends who are reporters,” she snapped. “They’re not all cockroaches.”

  Katana Knife inched closer.

  Mirie shot him an ugly look. “Don’t. I’ll put this blade right through your boss’s throat.”

  Anarion cursed at her words. One hand slashed the air in front of him in a stern gesture. “Don’t, Laris. She doesn’t mean the threat.”

  Obviously Laris was Katana Knife’s name. He didn’t look away from Mirie’s face. The snarl on his face was the answer to her verbal threat. Mirie didn’t blink. It was true that she didn’t mean the threat, but how had Anarion known that? The Elfish nobility had certain well known powers. Some were clairvoyants. Some of the more powerful could teleport as Anarion had done. Others were known to be able to raise great magicks. But the Committee had zilch on Anarion. As far as they were concerned he was a lower level son with an artifact that they wished to acquire before it could be used to end the world. He wasn’t a telepath or he wouldn’t be asking questions at all.

  Mirie slowly appraised her options. Clearly Anarion didn’t want to let her go without finding out what he wanted to know. And the elves weren’t known to be all warm and fuzzy about humans sticking their noses in Elfish business.

  Her eyes flickered to the belt buckle. Perhaps she could take the prince hostage and simply take the Eyes of the Amber Moon. The thought very nearly made her chuckle. Anarion wasn’t going to let her ‘take’ anything. Certainly not the Eyes and certainly not him. In addition if she turned her head for even a split second, Laris was going to be on her like stink on a pig.

  One of the two unconscious elves groaned. Mirie really didn’t have any more time. She pretended another movement that she knew Laris wouldn’t fall for and then instead of pulling out of the ploy she continued through with the movement, her speed otherworldly and a recognizable clue to her nonhuman status.

  “Of course I mean the threat,” she lied baldly as the witch blade twisted through the air. What Mirie actually meant was to take the bodyguard out before the other two woke up and hope that Anarion wasn’t going to practice some of his Elfish karate on her.

  But there was an abrupt crack of noise that made her wince. And then the witch blade fell from Mirie’s hand mid-movement. It fell as if slow motion, turning over and over before striking the surface of the roof and bouncing once. She couldn’t comprehend the actuality of the event. There was a pounding noise that nearly deafened her that was followed by a hoarse murmur emitted from her throat.

  Her eyes came to rest on Anarion. It was his Elfish name. Samson was the human add on so that he could sign paperwork that appeared aboveboard in this particular realm. Anarion suited him. He watched with his glittering gemstone eyes as her blade dropped from her hand. Then his insistent gaze followed her other hand as it went to her chest. A burning insistence there called incessantly for her attention.

  Curiously Mirie drew her hand back and was shocked to see it dripping with garnet clarity. Lucidity came to her. Someone had shot her. It was high in the chest on one side, making her right hand and arm useless. Silly Mirie. She’d brought a knife to a gunfight, but she hadn’t known it was a gunfight. Her head twisted and saw one of the downed bodyguards with a lethal pistol held capably in his hand. Lying prone on the rooftop, only feet from her, and his gun was aimed for center of mass on her body, ready for the killing shot. His eyes studied her, trying to read whether he needed to shoot her again.

  The inane thought that Mirie had was, I knew I should have worn the ensorcelled body armor.

  But Laris didn’t need or want that moment of assessment. The bodyguard was moving toward her, his katana knife held adroitly to make the takedown and Mirie’s perspective was twisting. The world was rising or she was sinking. There was a roar of noise that didn’t sound like another gunshot and Anarion was there.

  With her eyes as wide as saucers, Mirie observed as Anarion ripped the katana knife from Laris’s hand and threw it off the roof. A blur of insensible repositioning followed and the gun was kicked from the prone bodyguard’s hand. Then Mirie was looking up from the ground and the clouds were whipping past.

  His stunning face was suddenly there, staring down at her. The scar that ripped across his eyebrow, eye, and face was white with strain. The remainder of his visage filled with horror and concern, and Mirie didn’t quite get it. If the security threat was no longer a worry, what was the problem?

  “What are you?” he said urgently. Ah, the question changed, Mirie comprehended. He could see it in her eyes, her pale violet eyes that weren’t like any human eyes that could be found.

  “Huldufolk,” she said without thinking. The word was Icelandic for hidden folk. “My mother was one of them, until she married an Icelandic man.” She thought she added on the words, but they were barely a whisper of noise. She silently added the rest, Before they were murdered by their own kind for their alleged transgressions.

  There was another movement that she couldn’t follow with her eyes. Anarion gathered her into his arms and the motion made the burn inside her intensify. The pain made her want to scream with agony. “Thank the Gods,” he muttered in her ear.

  Then the world blurred away.