Page 32 of Artificial Moon

Chapter Sixteen

I think twice about dragging my kids into this mess, or even Allie, and teleport back to Kingsley’s house in Yorba Linda.

No, I want a fellow immortal on this job; meaning, Kingsley.

Witches are great, but the two who are in my life aren’t immortal. And bringing my son to a decommissioned nuclear site just feels icky. Nope, better to bring the hairy one!

So, back at his house, he needs little convincing to join the mission. Once he does, away we go.

We materialize on the rocky grounds at the San Clemente nuclear site, just inside a ten-foot tall razor-wired, electrified fence. The site is a place I’ve seen all my life, driving south down the 5 freeway. Hard to miss the massive mounds rising high into the sky.

Meanwhile, the salty ocean air mingles with the metallic scent of damp concrete.

The facility is dark, an abandoned husk of what were once functioning reactors. But even a shutdown plant isn’t harmless—not with the radioactive waste still sealed inside. Especially with Norm here, playing a game with forces far beyond his control.

Next to me, Kingsley appears in a crouch, his golden eyes scanning the area. He’s in his human form for now, his broad shoulders tense under a stylish sweater, a sweater that won’t last for long, I’m sure.

“I smell them,” he murmurs. “A few of them.”

“Norm’s not alone?”

“No.”

“Well, I figured he’d bring backup,” I whisper back, my senses flaring outward. The wind shifts, carrying the distinct scent of gun oil and sweat. Gunmen, perhaps even a lot of them, no doubt armed with silver bullets. If so, they would likely be positioned along the perimeter of the grounds, perhaps not far from us.

The floodlights mounted on the towers aren’t active, but that doesn’t mean the area isn’t being watched. The darkness is Norm’s ally, but it’s also mine and Kingsley’s.

My body tightens with the familiar tension of impending combat. So far, my inner alarm is silent. “I’ll draw them out,” I say. “You take them down.”

Kingsley smirks. “Don’t get shot, my love.”

“Not planning on it.”

I move swiftly, darting from shadow to shadow, my enhanced speed making me a blur, I hope. The first rifleman barely has time to react before Kingsley, now in his massive wolf form, barrels into him with a deep, guttural snarl. The man goes down hard, his weapon skittering across the concrete. I hear all of this, even if I only barely get a glimpse. The action is taking place at one corner just inside the tall barb-wired fence. Kingsley, in wolf form, had crossed the distance in seconds. Likely, the guy never saw what happened. Who he was, I’ll never know. Clearly, some underworld type hired by Norm.

A second rifle fires. My inner alarm rings loudly, and I drop low, the silver bullet missing me by inches. Yes, I can feel the silver bullet, sense it. Not to mention, my inner alarm had been all over it.

Yeah, they came prepared.

I paused too long, got to keep moving.

But first...

I spin around, rushing toward my shooter. He fumbles with his bolt-action, but I’m already on him, wrenching the gun from his hands and knocking him unconscious with a well-placed punch upside his head.

That’s when I hear Norm’s voice, amplified by a nearby speaker. “Impressive, Samantha. I knew you’d come, and I see you brought a four-legged friend. Exciting!”

I grit my teeth, my eyes flicking to the large control building directly ahead. Probably inside there. “Figured I’d swing by to see what the hell you’re up. Maybe stop you if I can.”

“How very cavalier of you, Samantha Moon.” His laughter crackles through the speaker system. “And stop me? Why, you don’t even know what I’m doing yet.”

As I run forward, Kingsley pads silently beside me, surprising me. The big fella is supernaturally light on his feet, a true silent killer?

I note the door to the control room is slightly ajar, with light escaping out. I run the rest of the distance and kick it open without hesitation. No more shooters, no more bullets flying, my inner alarm returning to silent.

There he is, standing in the center of the room, his usual casual arrogance intact. But there’s something new—he’s dressed in a sleek black suit. I canfeelthe presence of silver woven into the fabric. In fact, it dims my senses, making it harder to even look at him, which is weird. Like my vision has gone all blurry. Worse, it might also be dimming my inner alarm, which works on a level of supernaturalism that no one, but no one, understands—including Fang and the Alchemist. A mask made of the same material is next to him. No doubt the removal of the mask is what allowed Allie to find him.

“I knew you’d find me, Sam. Either you or your little witch friend, Allie, with her distant viewing skills. It’s amazing how you can piggyback off that with your telepathic link to her, a link developed from you, what, partaking of her blood. How risqué, Sam!”

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