Scott Tracey - Moonset

“How did this happen, Luca? How could you do this?” Ash sounded afraid, even if it didn’t show on her face.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he snapped. “I didn’t know the spells were opening a pathway. I’m not an idiot.” His look said he dared Ash to challenge him. “I thought it was something forgotten. Something Moonset hadn’t destroyed. He didn’t know what he was selling me, but I saw it for what it was. I was going to show everyone that I was more than this.”

His coloring had even improved. It was like whatever had been ravaging him a few minutes ago was ebbing away more and more the longer we were here. “And you thought you could finally step out of our shadows,” Ash finished for him, understanding dawning on her face.

“It wasn’t like that. I just thought … I could stand out. Stop being the one everyone forgets about. My parents. You. Maddy. Even them ,” he said, glancing at my brothers and sisters.

“They looked at me and saw him.” He reached forward and grabbed Malcolm by the hair, pulling his head forward.

“Hey!” I stepped forward, holding out the athame.

Unfortunately, this was the wrong approach. The next thing I knew there was a knife in Luca’s hand too, and it was pointing at Mal. There was no way I could cross the room and push him out of the way before he attacked—maybe killed—my brother.

The curse. But Luca must have known about it, too, because he dropped the knife. “She’ll do anything I want,” he said, nodding to Bailey. “She knows I’d never hurt her. And she’ll scramble their brains and leave them nothing but vegetables if I tell her to.”

“Okay,” I said, dropping my hand. “I’m sorry. You’re in control.”

“Do you want to know why you’re here, Daggett? Haven’t you wondered? Why Carrow Mill?”

“Because you wanted us here,” I said. “You wanted us here, and we came.”

“No,” he said, with a smile that suggested darkness. “ This is where it all started. It’s where the blood was spilt, and everything changed.”

But in this case, he was dead wrong. “Moonset started here,” I said evenly. “My father and the others were students here. I know.”

He didn’t like that. He took a step back, releasing Mal and pointing his athame at me. “You knew? You knew? And still you’re kissing up to Fallingbrook like they’re going to save you?”

“What’s Fallingbrook have to do with this?”

“Fallingbrook killed your parents. How can you even think about trusting them?”

“Luca, I know this,” I said, tucking the knife in my back pocket and returning my hands to the surrender position. “Everyone does. We’re taught it in school, remember? We talked about it my first day.”

“You know the lie,” he said, the knife cutting imaginary lines in the air. “But you don’t know the truth.”

“What truth?” I said, growing impatient. “My parents embraced the black arts, turned to terrorism, and started a war. Everyone knows this story.”

“Because that’s what Fallingbrook tells them to believe,” he crowed. “They don’t know the truth. History’s written by the victors, Justin. Moonset wasn’t a cult. They didn’t start out as terrorists.”

“What are you talking about?” Ash’s voice was trembling.

Luca shook his head, all traces of his earlier weakness were now completely gone. In fact, he looked better than I’d ever seen him. A new kind of life surged in him, replacing his earlier weakness with vigor. In the halls at school, even with Bailey, there was always a kind of greasy, slouching going on with him. For the first time, he was standing straight, and he’d never more resembled his cousin.

“Covens form for a reason. Moonset was no different. They weren’t monsters. They were heroes. Destiny brought them here … to turn back the tide. And they were feared, after all the good they did. The Congress turned on them. Tried to destroy them from the inside. They couldn’t make heroes out of them. That would threaten the Congress’s power. So they tried to destroy Moonset … and created an enemy they couldn’t defeat.”

“That’s not true,” I said. Everyone knew what Moonset had stood for.

“It is,” he said. “ They told me. Moonset never embraced the darkness. They weren’t warlocks.”

“Stop lying, Luca!” Ash turned to me. “He’s just trying to trick you. Toying with your emotions.

You can’t believe him.”

“I know,” I said, but my voice was quiet. Couldn’t I? What if the story had been wrong all these years? What if Moonset weren’t the villains everyone thought they were? What if there was another side to the story?

“They’ll be here soon,” he said, stepping away from the fireplace, and away from the church benches. “They can show you the truth.”

Ash’s voice broke in, warningly. “Justin … the fireplace.”

The bricks inside the fireplace had started glowing. Spellscripts had been written all around the fireplace, and they were moving, streaming from brick to brick like some sort of ticker tape.

Row after row, glowing scarlet against the bricks.

“To the … downward … silence … habits … ” The symbols were moving too fast for me to decipher, washing out the closer they got to the fire, and then reappearing on the other side.

The wind had picked up; the tarp against the back corner of the house started whipping against the wood siding.

“They made me do it,” Luca suddenly whispered, losing some of that shine and bravado, and reminding me of the kid I’d met on my first day. The one who wanted nothing more than to lay his head down on his book bag and pretend that none of this was happening. “They made me.”

“People could have died. You invoked Maleficia. You’re no better than them,” Ash said, suddenly harsh. Though I’d put my knife away, she hadn’t. But it didn’t look like she was going to be flinging around magic with hers. More like flinging that knife into his chest. I grabbed her by the shoulder. She tugged against me, but I kept holding on.

“But when they get in your head,” Luca snarled, “you don’t have a choice. Disobedience isn’t an option. They were in control. They killed that man. Not me.”

“You opened the door, Luca! You can’t possibly think you’re innocent.”

“Ash … maybe now’s not the time,” I muttered. Something was going on in the fire. A normal hearth fire was all sorts of healthy oranges and reds and even a little blue. The fire in the fireplace, though, was changing. The blue gained more prominence, and the hissing of the burning wood started growing louder, sounding more like a acetylene torch.

And it was growing darker, giving off less light.

The blues split into tongues of blue and green, each a sickly, unhealthy kind of shade. The room was suddenly cast into something much like moonlight.

And then the fire spoke.

“Child of Moonset,” the fire crackled.

Ash had already started backing away when the fire began to change. She moved to my side, and then her hand was in mine. There wasn’t anything visible in the flames—not like the inhabitants of the Abyss had faces—but there was that same predatory presence. Like the

Devil had personally turned all his attention on just the two of us.

If it came down to a choice, I preferred the preternatural presence outside that made me feel like prey over the monster in the fire pit. Monsters shouldn’t speak.

“I brought them, just as you demanded.” In contrast to us, Luca had actually gotten closer to the fireplace—and the thing inhabiting it.

“Yesssss,” the thing hissed, cracks and pops punctuating its words. The fire grew larger, darker and larger. Each tongue of flame that stretched out seemed to do so with purpose, like hands straining against a cage. One extended out, reaching towards Luca with a caress. He leaned forward, and the fire brushed his skin but didn’t seem to hurt him.

The air was thick with something profane—a presence that was so vast it dwarfed the rest of the room and made the oxygen taste strange and sulfurous. My grip tightened on Ash’s hand, and almost like we were one we both took another step backwards.

“Scion of Daggett.” The fire shifted, sending a veil of sparks up the chute. “Know usssss.”

“No,” I replied.

“So ssseditious. Like your maker.”

“I’m nothing like my father,” I snapped. Ash’s grip tightened.

“Ssstanding there wearing his face,” a second voice—this one more feminine—said, sending up another shower of shimmering sparks. “Human irony.”

“Justin, we need to do something,” Ash whispered.

I nodded, but my focus was on the fire. They’d been summoned into the fire. Maybe there was something to that.

“You brought us here, didn’t you? You were the ones who wanted us to come here. Why?”

My words were all bravado, but I was hoping the things peering through the fire couldn’t know that.

In the aftermath of the fire’s touch, Luca had grown silent, glassy eyed and drooling.

Sleeping, just like the others, only his eyes weren’t closed.

“Yessss. Feel. Let it burn inssside you.”

“They want you angry?” Ash was talking, but it was half to herself. And then, more forcefully, “What do you want with him? With all of them?”

“Moonssset trespassed against us,” the female seethed. “ You shall be the tithe that balances the scales.”

“You can’t have him!” Ash called out, extending her knife once again. She stepped forward, leaving me behind. She pointed her knife at Luca, but it was more than that. I recognized the quick flicks of her wrist, the way her hand looped around at the sides.

She was drawing something.

The fireplace erupted, just like it would have if someone had thrown a bucket of gasoline on it. Where there had been only a pair of voices before, suddenly there were dozens. Some seared with rage, others with lust, but most were impatient moans. “OURS!!!”

“I don’t think they liked that very much,” I said, edging forward.

“Their blood bindssss us,” came the voice from the flames. This one was different than the others. Dry. Cold-blooded. “Your blood releasesss.”

My blood? “I won’t free you,” I said.

“You will. So it will come to passsss. Hisss blood is not enough.”

I looked down at Luca, saw the cut down his arm. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. The cut was old, crusted and clotted, but it still looked serious. “Was Luca telling the truth? Was

Moonset innocent?”

Sparks surged upward, and for a moment they had a face. “Villainsss. Monsterssss.”

I wanted that sinking feeling in my stomach not to exist. I wouldn’t feel disappointment.

Moonset had made their beds a long time ago. There was no sense trying to change the sheets fifteen years later.

“Ssstriking down one of our own as they did,” the fire hissed. “Who were they to pronounce such a fate upon her?”

“Kore,” a second voice moaned. “Sister mine.”

Ash hesitated, looking at me over her shoulder. “I know that name. But Moonset didn’t kill her,” she said, her voice less certain. “Robert Cooper did.”

The fire voices had seemed to forget us. It shrank a little, now little more than three separate tongues each striving upwards in a different direction.

“So shall she be avenged,” the female said.

“And she shall walk into the world, fettered and forgotten, her blood shall sow seeds of vexation,” recited the dry one.