Moonlight Mist: Mist Riders, #5

About the book

Not every plan is a good one.

Luna finds herself living in the San Diego Keep betrothed to the higher Alpha, Cyrus, a man she holds in low esteem in any of his forms. She has no choice. It was the only way to give Winter a chance to survive locked away in a dark place by the Persian King of Kings.

Hard to believe it could get worse until a troll twice the size of Kong lands in San Diego’s financial district. Fantasy world... meet human world. #epicfantasyfail

And then the whole faulty portal wards letting banished monstrosities back into the five realms thing starts to trend and that means endless work for Luna, Kirsi and a certain brother from another mother.

Yeah, a total disaster. And there’s still the shotgun wedding, that total xxxxx Chazona, the whole lizard people thing, bear bats, killer trees and a wintry night in the forest of nightmares.

Luna could really use a couple new powers like yesterday... and Winter, where is he?

CHAPTER 1

I STARED AT THE ANNOUNCEMENT pinned on the wall. Apparently, Cyrus had scheduled our wedding for September 5th,just two weeks from now, without bothering to tell me. Classic toxic alpha-male power move. I’d been waiting for something like this since our colossal fight last week when he ordered his goons to move my things to his room—a posh and pompous suite fit for a royal couple. After I put a quick end to that battle, I knew Cyrus would go about finding some feeble method of exacting his revenge.

To be fair, his haste to tie the knot was probably part of a bigger effort to have me stay put in his tacky shifter compound instead of roaming off every chance I got. He must have thought that being my husband would give him some additional leverage to... I don’t know, have me redecorate the entire Keep, or participate in the endless uber boring pack council meetings, or maybe take up origami or some other docile bullshit.

I’d grown bolder as the weeks went by. I left the compound almost daily to meet up with Kirsi or Lily or Faion—sometimes all three of them. It drove Cyrus crazy. It drove Darius crazy, too, when Cyrus informed him during one of his weekly reports. At least twice, the Persian King of Kings had chewed me out for taking unnecessary risks.

I shrugged it all off. I knew what they didn’t. Horror wasn’t going to pop up out of nowhere to wipe me out. He needed me very much alive. He had beheaded Cerber just for trying to hurt me and had eagerly offered to kill Darius as well, and making me his captive would ruin his grand design. Horror intended to lure me to him, so I would willingly become his right hand and openly offer up my mist rider powers to aid in his absolute dominion over all realms.

My gut told me as long as I let Horror believe there was a chance I’d join forces with him, he’d let me be, at least for a while. And for someone as old as Horror, a while could very well mean decades.

I turned around, sensing someone watching. Cyrus stood right behind me, staring intensely. His skin glistened with a post-workout sheen.

Dude, I said, why you got to be a creeper? And what’s the meaning of this? I pointed at the bulletin board. I told you, I need at least one year of... I searched for a word for this charade. "Betrothal."

He grunted. "You need a whole year to wiggle out of our agreement?"

I waved him off and stepped away.

I could smell what he ate. Something raw.

He liked to shift into a huge black panther at dawn and hunt in the pack’s private woods.

Your non-response concedes the point, he said, licking his lips.

Men and their imaginary scores, I said, losing interest.

It’s that very agreement that allows your mentor’s recuperation to proceed unhindered.

I bit my tongue. I had improved at holding back, never letting anyone know what fevered thoughts raced through my head. The truth was I would do anything to keep Winter safe, even getting hitched to a megalomaniac.

The pride of a blackmailer, I said.

Cyrus gritted his teeth. Let’s not argue in front of pack members.

Why? Wouldn’t arguing be the best way to pose as a real couple?

A storm brewed behind his eyes. He motioned me to follow him up three flights of stairs. That wasn’t a good sign. His business office was up there, and he hated being in that office. There was something he had to tell me and whenever he had to tell me something, it usually sucked.

His receptionist, a slightly built man for a wolf shifter, stood at attention as we approached. My alpha, the Chicago pack’s been calling all morning—

Cyrus cut him off with a dry, Not now.

We entered his large, open office. It was all mahogany and velvet with arched windows overlooking a duck pond. A case of expensive Cuban cigars sat on the heavy desk. Cyrus kicked the door shut.

I jumped straight to offense. It’s fucking bullshit, Cyrus. It’s not enough that you took me from my life and forced me to stay in your putrid velvet Xanadu, you also want to monitor my every move and keep me on property all time? Is this some sick form of revenge?

He glared at me. Revenge is the wet dream of weaklings. Nothing will change between us after the wedding. Our communication will remain limited to this occasional trading of barbs if that’s what you wish. My focus is on the meeting of the five biggest packs in the country at the end of September. There’s pressure to realign the territories. I want to negotiate from a position of maximum strength.

So what? You’re going to aim your Lunar witch wife at them like a loaded gun and make them give you what you want, or we’ll blow their castles down? That sounds lovely until they enlist their top assassins to take me out.

His voice was dry, emotionless. Let them try.

"What? Let them try? Really? You’re not even going to try to lie? Huh, I said. Maybe I should be grateful you’re not hiding the fact that of course, they’re going to try to kill me! They’re fucking shifter alphas, Cyrus."

You’re a Lunar witch. You’re going to be hunted regardless of your circumstances. We might as well offset that risk with a reward.

Offset this, I said while showing him a middle finger.

Not my best moment. Maturity is not a fixed state.

You need to grow up, he said. Life’s not an Instagram page. It’s not all moral certainties and scented candles. In the real world, shit gets messy.

"You’re telling me that shit gets messy? I was stunned. The same girl who, literally, you and Darius... you know what? Fuck you!"

We had become more than accustomed to these fights. We simmered quietly for a while to let the rage level off.

Your safety is a priority, he said as some sort of olive branch.

Right, I said. I guess that means your security team has been shadowing my every move in and out of the compound. If only you had respected me enough to tell me that.

I respected you enough that I believed I didn’t have to, Sophie. And if you somehow didn’t realize you were being followed, that would mean you are clueless enough to need protection.

Gee, that didn’t sound like respect, I said, stating the obvious.

He sighed. You make me crazy. I actually have a plan and this whole scenario is a pain in my ass as well. I don’t have bedside manners, but I’m doing right by you. Trust that.

Trust is the favorite word of the duplicitous.

He held his eyes closed a long time, biting his lip. Horror is on the loose and keen on eliminating all competition, he finally said. Which, I’m not sure why, but Darius thinks you’re potentially Horror’s nemesis. I promised Darius that you would remain in one piece. I plan on being true to my word.

The bastard sounded sincere. My mind started churning to come up with more stalling tactics to delay the wedding.

The wedding’s happening, Sophie. I suggest you let your people know and be convincing while you’re doing it.

Someone, please, kill me now.

My phone buzzed. Thank God!

It was a text from Kirsi. She never texted. Her brief need to talk message convinced me it was urgent.

I flashed my eyes at Cyrus. I need to take this. We should both try to be a little more civil to each other.

He shrugged. Fine.

I hurried up the stairs and texted Kirsi back from my room.

Me too. Need yr stealth skills. Meet outside the gate in 1 hr.

CHAPTER 2

KIRSI HANDED ME THE spare helmet. I held it in my hands, fidgeting with the chin strap.

That’s for your head, she said, arching an eyebrow. It’s human law when riding on two wheels.

I locked my eyes onto hers. Full disclosure. I have stalkers. The shifting kind. They might be hard to shake.

She batted her impossibly long eyelashes and smiled. We don’t have to shake them. Not yet.

I knew better than to question her assertion and fifteen minutes later, when her Harley-Davidson pulled up to the three-story coffeehouse slash bookstore that belonged to the Society of Immortal Sisterhood, it all became clear. Besides being next to the beauty of Breakwater Way Beach, the shop also allowed us to enter through the front door and exit without being noticed via an elaborate underground network of tunnels.

We sat with a ceramic pot of freshly brewed coffee between us on the second-floor balcony where we could be easily seen from below.

This is nice, I said.

She took in a deep breath and then slowly let it go. Agreed. It’s good to just sit with a friend.

That’s lovely, though a bit ominous.

Every bit lovely. Not one bit ominous, she said.

Happy to hear that, I said. I’m down with chilling until you’re ready to talk about whatever it was you wanted to talk about.

Really, Luna, it’s not a matter of life and death or we’d be having this conversation underground. I’m far more interested in why you find yourself in need of my stealth skills.

Everyone must ask you for help. You’re an Immortal Valkyrie and Guard of the Seventh Council Seal. You make difficult things so much easier. You’re like the guy who owns a truck. Every time a friend moves, they’ll be calling.

I also own a truck, so I get that.

Alright then.

It’s about that blackmailing, two-faced dickweed.

Darius?

Nope, the other dickweed, the one who gets in my face every day, making my life a fucking mockery.

Cyrus? What’s he done now on top of everything else?

He decided we’re getting married in two weeks and announced it to the whole goddamn pack before letting me know.

Kirsi pursed her lips, trying to suppress a laugh.

Is my tortured existence amusing you?

No, it’s not that... it’s just... that poor bastard really thinks he can command you like some wide-eyed, first-time shifter. I mean, he really doesn’t know you. And I don’t mean Luna the mist rider, I’m talking about Sophie from Astoria, Oregon. Please let me be there when you mount his ass on a wall.

I totally want to mount him on a wall.

I sipped my coffee, saying nothing.

Luna? End this charade already. I can’t let you marry that cretin.

I shrugged. Unless I find another way to ensure Winter’s recovery, what choice do I have?

Kirsi banged her fist on the table. For centuries I’ve seen women forced into unwanted, degrading marriages. Enough.

It’s not real, it’s a means to an end. And maybe there won’t be a marriage at all if you and I...

Kirsi raised her hand. Say no more. I’m all in.

I exhaled and smiled. Oh, Kirsi... that’s music to my ears. I need to find Winter and I can’t do that with a bunch of furballs on my trail.

I waved to Marlon in sunglasses down on the beach. His tattoos and muscles were as recognizable as his face. He was the head of Cyrus’s security team as well as a frightening wolf, but now he was relegated to trailing me, a job he no doubt hated. He waved back at me as he knocked back cans of Heineken beer along with two of the pack’s younger hyenas.

Kirsi rolled her eyes. That’s just sad. Could they be less discreet?

I think they give zero fucks at this point. It’s a shit assignment. Trailing their boss’s fiancée. I almost feel for them.

Bullshit. Let them bake in the sun. They’re unprofessional. This is going to be too easy... where’s the fun in that?

We laughed.

I furrowed my brow at Kirsi. Your turn. What about that text you sent?

She sipped her coffee. It’s a touch weird.

Really? I can do weird. It’s kind of my brand. Go ahead, try me.

I received a message.

A message? Like a text? Voicemail?

A whiteboard message, she said. On my fridge.

Your fridge?

Yeah, I had a casserole in the oven and went up to take a shower, Kirsi said. When I came back, I took the casserole out and then I noticed the message written in green erasable marker on my whiteboard. And they erased my little grocery reminders.

"That is weird, I said. I’m stunned actually. I can’t believe Valkyries bake casseroles."

Since long before they were called casseroles.

Okay, yeah, but breaking into your place and writing on your fridge board, I said. "You have a fridge board? Okay. What did it say?"

Well, she said, I presume you’re aware of Helen and Christian?

A sudden chill crept up my spine. Why would Kirsi speak the name of Winter’s ex-girlfriend and their baby? I was afraid to ask.

I nodded. Yes, I’m aware.

A shadow crossed Kirsi’s face. According to the note, their death was not an accident. A detail had been overlooked because no one suspected murder.

I stared through her, a heat rising in my chest. You’re saying they were murdered... Helen and little baby Christian? I said, the words sticky in my mouth as if coated with glue.

Kirsi placed her hand on mine. We can’t know for sure. According to the note, the cab driver who picked up Helen and the baby was female, which was uncommon in San Diego in the fifties.

Sure, Winter mentioned that. He even remembered her name.

Poor man, Kirsi said, taking a moment. "The thing is, this woman, Susan, replaced the original cab driver at the last moment. She paid the cabbie to let her drive."

I chewed on that. "All this was on your whiteboard? How do we know it’s true and what... she drove into the lake on purpose, killing herself, not to mention an infant and a nursing mother? Winter would have sensed all this. It’s too nefarious. There’s no way he’d miss that."

I’m just relaying the message. It implied if we follow the Susan clue, we’ll find out what really happened.

I pressed the back of my head with both hands. It’s a setup, Kirsi. That’s all this is, right?

Kirsi put her hand on mine. Most probably, but when people try to set me up, I like to play along a little until I can make them pay. And, if there’s a single chance there’s any truth to this, I want to know that, too.

I pulled my hand back and steeled myself. Let’s fucking do it.

Shouldn’t you be preparing for a wedding, bridezilla?

Don’t remind me, I said. If nothing else, this will be a diversion from all that gross nonsense.

Kirsi grinned. Promise me that if this leads us to Winter somehow, I get to be the one who chops off Darius’s head.

As long as I get to feed it to the demon hounds.

She stood up. "I won’t stand between you and your dreams. Now let’s go dig into a seventy-year-old cold case and Susan, our person of interest."

Did we just become a dynamic detective duo?

We trotted downstairs to the coffee shop. On the patio outside, Eir, the Valkyrie who fought by our side against the necromancers in Nightwood, lay on a lounge chair in a tiny bikini. Yikes. Next to her sat none other than Chazona, the ice queen herself: tall, curvy, blonde and pretty in a fucked up, freeze you to the bone sort of way. Her eyes flashed a ruthless glee.

What’s that bitch doing here? I said.

She’s friends with Eir. Don’t make a scene, Luna.

I laughed. As if I would give her the satisfaction.

Kirsi grabbed my hand. Cellar, now.

She dragged me away. I took one last look at the chilliest and most complete bi—uh-uh, forget it. I’m above that.

Chazona’s lips curved into a small laugh as she waved to me.

No! No, Kirsi said. That’s exactly the kind of thing we need to avoid.

I resisted all my instincts to scream obscenities when Chazona waltzed through the door after us. The joy on her arrogant lips was gone, her stare dripping with disdain.

She walked right up to me and bitch-slapped me so hard I fell into Kirsi. And a good thing she was there, or I would have suffered the indignity of falling onto my ass.

Do you want to die right now? I said, rubbing my cheek. "What the hell was