Moonlit Magic Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by TM Cromer

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  All rights reserved.

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  ISBN: 978-1-7338198-7-9 (Digital)

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover art: Deranged Doctor Designs

  Editor: Trusted Accomplice

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  From the Author…

  Also by T.M. Cromer

  Dedication

  To Deb & Lissa:

  You are two of the most selfless and giving people I know. Your constant support has enriched my life. Thank you for all you do.

  Chapter 1

  1828 – The Natchez, somewhere along the Mississippi River

  “We’ve been summoned.”

  Nathanial “Nate” Thorne cracked an eyelid to peer at his younger brother Andrew. He grunted and shut his eye. His booted feet were unceremoniously shoved off the table they rested upon. A deep, weary sigh escaped him. “By whom?”

  “Father.”

  “Shit.”

  Drew let out a humorless chuckle. “You sound like an American. Mother would be so proud.”

  Nate experienced a small pang of homesickness, but not for England. No, only for his mother. Ten long years he’d been away, and he missed the unconditional love she’d showered upon him.

  Giving up all pretense of napping, he stretched and straightened. “What’s the emergency?”

  The severe expression on his brother’s normally mellow countenance told Nate all he needed to know. He wasn’t going to like what Drew had to say.

  “The Enchantress needs to be contained.”

  “By us?” His incredulity caused his voice to crack.

  The Enchantress was bloody bad news any way you looked at it. In her quest for power, she was known to enslave men, women, and children alike, mostly all magical with a few innocents getting caught up in the madness. It was why he was stuck in America with his siblings. Their parents wanted them as far away from that insane bitch as they could get. Rightly so, since Isolde de Thorne didn’t care if she stole magic from her kin. That was obvious when she’d cornered and killed Nate’s brother Jonah.

  There was no way Nate wanted a damned thing to do with corralling the most powerful witch alive. She was an Aether. A keeper of magic, and the balance between good and evil. The one person able to give or take away a person’s abilities based on a whim. Only one Aether could rule at a time, and when one died, another would take his or her place.

  Unfortunately, this particular one had gone mad over the last twenty years.

  “We won’t be the only ones to subdue her, Nate. Isis has called forth the strongest from the Six. I’m afraid that’s you and me from our family, brother.”

  The Six he referred to were the original bloodlines. Each descended from the gods and contained limitless power but were subject to the caprices of those same gods. If they were being called to action, they had no choice but to answer.

  “Chance and Lottie? What’s to become of them?”

  “Father’s suggested Chance and Charlotte hole up here in America until we return.”

  “You mean if we return.” Unease tickled the fine hairs on the back of Nate’s neck. “This is suicide, Drew.”

  “Father will be with us for the fight.”

  “You think the great Jonas Thorne will be able to prevent the Aether from obliterating us where we stand?” He made a scoffing noise and rubbed the heels of his hands over his face. “Bloody hell.”

  “I’ll leave instructions with Chance should the worst happen.” Drew tugged at his cuffs and cleared his throat. “But we need to go.”

  “How do we explain our disappearance from the boat?”

  “Technically, we’ll be gone, so there will be no need.”

  “Come on, Drew. If we survive, we’ll want to return. Or at least, you and Chance will.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I don’t know what I want.” Yes, he did, but he wouldn’t voice it yet. Nate didn’t want to risk cursing his luck. What he did say was, “We’ve made our fortunes at the tables. We could walk away and invest in any enterprise that captures our fancy.”

  “It’s all neither here nor there, big brother. We’ve been recalled home.”

  “The least we can do is compel the Captain to pull into the nearest dock. Our departure won’t be as suspicious.”

  “Fine. I’ll take care of it. You teleport and make arrangements for the twins.”

  Chance and Charlotte would be irate at being ordered to stay behind, but to leave those young’uns to their own devices on this vast side of the world would be foolish to the extreme. Lottie had a wild streak longer than the Mississippi River and twice as wide. Chance indulged his twin at every turn.

  “Nate?”

  He glanced up and met his brother’s solemn jade eyes. No words needed to be spoken. They both knew what they faced when they returned to England. “The strongest of the Six, huh?” he asked with a half-grin. “This should be interesting.”

  “Father said Isis intends to pull from the Otherworld. This ceremony promises to be a treat.”

  Drew’s sarcasm regarding the upcoming attempt to defeat the Enchantress wasn’t lost on Nate. With a resigned sigh, he clapped his brother on the back. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Closing his eyes, he mentally pinpointed their location and calculated the distance to the closest town. Baton Rouge. The city was always on his radar. They usually stayed at a small, clean boarding house not far from the port. At this time of night, only the drunks would be awake and not many of them. Most likely, they’d be in an alley somewhere, sleeping off the night’s excess.

  Nate’s cells warmed as he visualized the narrow access road behind the boarding house. Within seconds, he was at his destination and scanning the area for any witnesses to his teleport. Finding none, he strode up to the building’s kitchen door and tried the handle. With a quick look behind him, he murmured, “Recludo.”

  The metal bar securing the door from the other side released and allowed him entry. Nate replaced it and silently made his way to the second floor, stopping at the first bedroom on the right. This time, he didn’t speak as he disengaged the lock.

  He stood at the foot of the four-poster bed and stared at the woman lost to her slumber. The clouds outside the window parted—with a little help from Nate—and moonlight shone down on her pale, classical features. His heart turned over in his chest. For years, they’d been dancing around their feelings, with Nate too much of a coward to tell Evelyn he loved her. Now, he might never get the chance. For sure, informing her just before running off to confront the deadliest witch in history was bad form.

  Nate sat on the edge of the bed. “Evie.”


  She smiled in her sleep.

  “Evie, I need you to wake up.” He trailed light fingers along her temple, stroking her silver-blonde hair. “Wake up now, love.”

  Her lids lifted, and her stunning amber eyes focused on him. “Nathanial? What are you doing in my room?”

  “I have a favor to ask, and I hope you won’t refuse me.”

  Heat flared in her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze to the coverlet she gripped. “I’ll not lay with you, Nathanial. I’ve told you that.”

  “I’ve no doubt I’ll wear you down one day, love, but it’s a different favor I’m after.”

  Concern clouded her face as she turned more fully toward him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Drew and I need to return to England. Will you keep an eye out for the twins while we’re gone?”

  “Of course.” A handful of heartbeats passed as they stared at one another, each unable to break the spell surrounding them. “H-how long will you be gone?”

  He couldn’t lie. Couldn’t flirt and tease his way through a bullshit answer. Not with Evie. Not right then. His tone was solemn as he said, “I don’t know, love. With any luck, a few days at most.” Maybe never, the little voice inside said. But he didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to turn what might be their last moments together into a sober, sad affair.

  Nate forced a grin. “The Thornes will be out of your beautiful hair soon enough, Evie, my love. Never fear.”

  He started to stand, but she grabbed his hand. “Nathanial? You’ll be careful, won’t you? Despite whatever harebrained scheme you’ve got going, you’ll come back?”

  The desire to weep was strong. He stared at her so long, she became uncomfortable and squirmed under his steady regard.

  “Nathanial?” Her voice was a mere whisper, caressing the exposed skin at his throat. He very nearly swore when he realized he wasn’t properly dressed. No wonder she acted like a shy maiden. What was she supposed to do when she woke up to find a man with his shirt half undone, lurking over her?

  “I’ll come back, Evie.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, her lips in a tight, thin line.

  “I’ll always come back to you, love. Always.”

  Her eyes flew open and locked on his tortured features. Tears shimmered, and one escaped down her cheek. “You’d better, Nathanial Alastair Thorne.”

  This time, his wide grin wasn’t forced. It had only taken her fierce order to make his soul sing. He threw caution to the winds. “I believe it’s well past time I told you I love you, Evie. Don’t you think?”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t promise your heart to another while I’m gone.”

  “Then you best hurry home to me,” she retorted, sassy as ever.

  He pulled her to her feet and tucked a lock of hair behind one small, delicate ear. “Count on it.” His lips settled on hers, and her soft gasp of pleasure ricocheted through him. He pulled back and ran a thumb along her damp upper lip. “Soon.”

  Nate tapped the leather packet he’d placed on the bedside table. “This is everything I have in the world. Use what you need.”

  “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

  “Use what you need,” he said firmly. “You have a business to run and two ruffians to support now.”

  As he turned to go, she latched onto his forearm. “Nathanial.” He gazed down into her beautiful face. Her lips moved as if she wanted to speak, but no words tumbled forth.

  “I know, love.”

  With one last light kiss, he teleported back to his room on The Natchez. He had an Enchantress to conquer.

  Eythrope, Aylesbury, England

  Isolde de Thorne watched her son playing in the garden three stories below. Even through the distortion of the glass, she could see the strong aura of magic surrounding the boy. One day, he’d possess more power than she. On that day, her hunger would outweigh her love for him, and she’d steal what he had—or die trying.

  Most people believed her heartless, and they would be ninety-nine percent correct. But that remaining one percent was for the black-haired boy below. He deserved a better life than the twisted, dark one she had to offer. He deserved to grow up normal, with love and laughter surrounding him. A small part of her, the only human percentage left after four hundred years, wanted that for him. The larger, non-human part laughed at her foolishness.

  Power. It had to be consumed at any cost to feed the beast within.

  She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool windowpane. Sending him away was the only option. But who to trust? Who wouldn’t take advantage of his innocence for their own?

  Alastair Thorne will be his savior.

  A vision of a blond man with sapphire-blue eyes appeared in her mind. Those eyes held knowledge, confidence, and good humor. Yes, he’d be the perfect man to care for her son.

  While they’d never met, she knew of the Thornes. Rumor had it, the family patriarch was a decent man and a good father. He was the only trustworthy warlock she could recall. As a distant cousin to her son, he might be inclined to care for the boy and see he had a proper upbringing.

  Unlike yourself, a little voice taunted.

  Her eyes popped open, and she bunched her hair into fists on either side of her temples. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  Her son paused in his play, startled like a deer sensing danger on the wind. Slowly, he inched his head up and met her gaze. Isolde could detect no fear from him, only concern for her. A single tear formed and fell. The trail of wetness mocked the snarling beast inside her, enraging it further.

  Today. She had to send him away today if she wanted to save him. Already, she could feel the hold on her sanity slipping. Soon, she’d strike against him, an innocent boy of only eight years, and he’d be defenseless against the monster she’d become.

  Belatedly, after years of consuming magic at an alarming rate, Isolde realized she’d made a mistake. She had thought by feeding the beast, she’d keep it happy, but in its greed, it only wanted more and more. Now, that horrid creature wanted her son. She could hold out. She must.

  With a simple snap of her fingers, she woke the writing tools on her secretary. The pen scratched out her convoluted thoughts, pausing now and again when her brain stuttered over her request. Finally, it swirled her name at the bottom and dropped to the polished wooden surface.

  A wave of her hand dried the ink.

  “Deliver yourself to Alastair Thorne,” she instructed the parchment.

  It rolled itself tightly and disappeared in a light puff of black smoke just as a shockwave rocked the countryside.

  Adrenaline and an odd anticipation thrummed through Isolde’s veins. If she wasn’t mistaken, a goddess was about to pay her a visit. The beast stopped clawing at her insides and lifted its head to sniff the air.

  “Yes,” it purred. “More power.”

  Her cells warmed as she thought of the garden and her son below. Within mere seconds, she stood ten feet away from him. Although wary, the boy stared at her calmly, his obsidian eyes prepared for the news she had to deliver. It was as if he’d expected her to come to him.

  “Come here, boy.”

  Because he was wise beyond his young years, he obeyed and trudged forward, stopping only a foot away. He didn’t touch her. He knew better than to trust she wouldn’t absorb his magic. She’d warned him only two years before—hugs were forbidden between them.

  “I’ve made arrangements for your care, but you must hide now. There, over the ridge, about a hundred yards to the north. Don’t return, boy.”

  He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to forestall his words of protest. Out of a sense of obligation, he’d stay to try to protect her, and he’d be killed or wounded in the process.

  “My darling, you’ll do as I say,” she commanded past the knot forming in her throat. “Promise me you’ll cloak yourself as I’ve taught you and come out for no one but Alastair Thorne. Can you do that?”

  Onc
e, they had been as a mother and child should be, and the remembered love flared in his eyes for a brief second. He nodded, tears welling, but not falling. “I can do that, Mama.”

  Mama.

  Not “Mother” as he’d called her for the past few years, but “Mama” as he’d done when he first learned to speak and would run to her on chubby little legs without reservation, knowing she’d sweep him into a fierce hug and rain kisses on his lovely little face.

  “I love you, Damian. I need you to remember me how I was, not how I’ve become.” She squatted to make them eye level. “It’s possible for one such as us.” Isolde placed a hand on her heart. “I feel it here. You’ll find a great love one day. And when you do, you’ll be a far better parent than I ever could be.”

  “I love you, Mama.”

  “Good. That’s the one thing I was unable to destroy.” She tapped a finger to his adorable nose. “Go now, son. I’m out of time.”

  Damian broke her steadfast rule and flung himself into her arms. The beast within her snarled and snapped, straining at the flimsy chain holding it in place. Isolde allowed her son only two seconds to embrace her before she forcefully set him away.

  “Do as I say, boy.”

  “Yes, Mama,” he whispered, staring at her face as if to memorize every feature. “We’ll meet again. Try to remember this.” He gestured between their hearts. “Please, Mama. Don’t forget.”