Page 1 of Cruel Moon
Chapter One
Bridget Winslow
The Hunt Begins
The bell above the door chimes as I step into the Bear Den Diner, and I nearly stumble backward. A massive taxidermied bear stands about ten feet tall in the corner of the foyer, its glass eyes seeming to follow me. I swallow hard, forcing my face into a mask of calm.
This is nothing like Salem.
The diner’s interior is all rough-hewn wood and warm, golden lighting. Antlers and old mining equipment adorn the walls, and the air is thick with the scent of coffee and something spicy I can’t quite place. It’s rustic and quaint—so different from the stark Federal and Greek Revival style of most of Salem.
I slide into a worn vinyl booth, my fingers tracing the cracks in the leather. Everything here feels…lived-in. Used. Loved, even.
A tired-looking waitress approaches, notepad in hand. Her name tag readsDoreen.
“What can I get you, hon?” she asks, her western drawl so different from the clipped New England accents I’m used to.
I smile, channeling the warmth and charm I’ve been trained to exude. “I’m new in town. Do you have any specialties? Something with french fries, maybe?”
Doreen’s face lights up. “Oh, you’re in for a treat, sweetheart. How about our Rocky Mountain Loaded Fries? It’s a local favorite.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, though I have no idea what to expect. I lean in, lowering my voice. “And maybe you can help me with something else. I’m looking for an old friend—Meredith Banfield.”
Doreen’s pen hovers over her notepad, her smile faltering for a heartbeat. My muscles tense, ready to backpedal if needed. “Meredith Banfield, you say?” She taps the pen against her chin, brow furrowing. “Can’t say I know her personally, but I’ve heard the name.”
I force my shoulders to relax, keeping my expression open and earnest. This dance of half-truths requires a delicate touch. I nod, unsurprised.
I’d expected this to take some finessing. As Doreen turns to put in my order, my fingers twitch beneath the table, a subtle gesture accompanied by a whispered word. A faint shimmer passes over the diner, unnoticed by its occupants. Just a little charm to loosen tongues and bring information to light that might have otherwise been forgotten.
When Doreen returns, she’s carrying a massive plate that she sets down with a flourish. “Here you go, hon. Enjoy!”
I stare at the mountain of food. Golden, crispy fries are barely visible beneath a blanket of vibrant green sauce, melted cheese, and an array of other toppings. The scent is intoxicating—spicy, savory, and utterly foreign.
“This looks…incredible,” I manage, genuinely impressed. “What exactly am I looking at?”
Doreen beams. “That’s our Colorado green chile sauce on top, made with roasted chiles, tomatoes, and a blend of spices. Then we’ve got cheddar cheese, diced tomatoes, avocado, sour cream, and green onions. And those crispy bits? That’s elk bacon. A local specialty.”
I take a tentative bite. The flavors explode on my tongue—spicy, creamy, crunchy, and utterly delicious. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.
“This is fantastic,” I say, and for once, I don’t have to fake my enthusiasm. I gesture for Doreen to sit. “You must know all the local gossip, working here.”
Doreen hesitates, then slides into the booth across from me. The charm spell does its work. “Well, I wouldn’t say all of it, but I hear things here and there.” She leans in, lowering her voice. “You should try the coffee shop down on Main Street—the Steeping Cauldron. The owner, Rachel, lives out near White Fork and I think she knows the lady you’re looking for.”
I arch an eyebrow, feigning casual interest while my mind races. White Fork—not Ash Hollow. It’s not much, but it’s a lead. “White Fork? That’s not too far from here, is it?”
Doreen shakes her head. “Nope, about thirty minutes down the river. Lot of folks like their privacy up there, if you know what I mean.”
I do know. It sounds exactly like the kind of place a fugitive witch might hide. “Thanks, Doreen. You’ve been incredibly helpful.”
I finish my fries, savoring each bite. I leave a generous tip, more than enough to ensure Doreen remembers me fondly in case I need to come back and play nice for more information.
As I step out onto the sunbaked sidewalk, I take a deep breath of the crisp mountain air. Despite myself, I’m exhilarated. The hunt is on, and Meredith Banfield’s days are numbered. TheMathairs’justice will be served, no matter how far she’s run or how many mountain towns I have to scour. I won’t fail my Court.
Main Street isn’t hard to find in a town this size. The afternoon sun casts long shadows as I make my way down the quaint thoroughfare, my eyes scanning the storefronts. Ash Hollow is picturesque in a way that almost seems unreal—like something out of a postcard or a movie set. It’s beautiful, but I can’t let my guard down. I can’t afford to make a mistake. This is the first time theMathairshave sent me on a mission. The first time I’ve stepped foot farther than the town of Salem.
I don’t want to lose that freedom. The freedom to move about more of the world than the eighteen square miles of Salem, Massachusetts.
I spot the Steeping Cauldron before I reach it, the name sending a jolt through me. It’s an odd choice for a coffee shop, unless… No, it couldn’t be. Surely a witch wouldn’t be so brazen.
