Hunter's Moon Read online

  Hunter's Moon

  Wildeward Academy • Book One

  Gwyneira Blythe

  Copyright © 2020 Gwyneira Blythe

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Gwyneira Blythe

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  From me to you, dear reader

  Of Historical Note

  Excerpt from Book Two: Ice Cold Moon

  About the Author

  Dedicated to all the heathens who enjoy candy corn

  and the rest of us with hidden monsters in our hearts.

  Chapter One

  Victoria

  “School!” My shriek cut through our London residence. “Finishing school?! What do I even need to finish?” Decorum and sweetness. The words drilled by my governess reminded me to take a breath. Remain in control.

  “Dearest, please, it’s more of an academy…” Papa trailed off when I glared. I couldn’t believe he wanted to send me away!

  “You have given me the best tutors money can buy,” I blazed on, pacing from one end of his study to the other, “From classic literature and art to mathematics and the sciences.”

  “Probably shouldn’t have let you go so far with those last two,” he said, looking aside at the walls of books. He cultivated the dejected air of a wounded Town buck. With a sweep of dark hair, elegantly arranged, and put upon pout, Lord Wendell didn’t look a day over his prime. Certainly not old enough to have a daughter on the edge of the shelf.

  My fingernails cut against the lace of my gloves. “I’ve trained under your best instructors to master bow, blades, and revolver.”

  “Also subjects I should not have approved.” He wouldn’t even look at me.

  “I have even taken measures to grow into, your words, ‘A delightful young lady of poise and grace.’ this past year to satisfy our archaic society’s dictations.” I pointed out the most meaningless bit of my education.

  “And you’ve proved to be very accomplished, my dear.” Patronizing, utterly patronizing.

  “Then why”—my voice cracked—“why must I go to finishing school or an academy or wherever instead of joining you for this journey to Africa?”

  Papa’s frown deepened and he glanced at the portrait of Mamma he kept over the mantle. He had so many of her done over the years… centuries. This one was done in the Rococo style. Romantic illumination highlighted her painted form as she held a scroll in her lap. The lush sheen of her dress draped across the faux column in one of the ruins on our country estate. The pale cream of her gown accented the warm olive brown of her skin. It wasn’t my favorite portrait of Mamma, her smile was just a touch to saccharine, but Papa said the scroll fit with the study.

  Unconventional, charming, and highly intelligent, Lady Wendall had taken the ton by storm when Lord Wendell had returned from another of his long escapades with his foreign bride in tow so long ago. No one had known where she hailed from, but she was beautiful, well-bred, and rich. Qualities, the Grand Dames assured me, overcame the fault of her blood not being the purest blue. Mamma had more than enough to snare the Wandering Baron. They tended to forget my parents’ comings and goings over the years… centuries. Until they had me; my birth was a knot in the weave of society the gossips weren’t about to forget.

  My mother had been the epitome of maternal love—supportive and kind. Until she’d vanished almost six years ago, just when I’d needed her the most. No one even spoke her name now.

  “I promised her I would keep you safe,” he murmured, “I can’t do that while I’m gone.”

  “Then take me with you. I can keep up, I know I can.”

  “You’d be a distraction I cannot afford, Victoria.” His voice cut deep. “Not this time. Not when I’m so close. Not with that damn curse.” His grief marred his elegant face, the lines carved out like crags on a mountain. Lines that hadn’t been there six years ago. I hated my mother at that moment.

  “You think you might have found her,” I whispered. He always did.

  “It’s a clue. A clue worth investigating myself,” he ground out. I had barely seen him in between all the clues he’d gone to investigate.

  “Why can’t I stay here?” My voice was small and I despised feeling small.

  “The house boundary your mother installed is failing, you know this. After loosing—”

  “Yes, I know.” I swept my hand out to cut him off. I didn’t want to think about the death of my last familiar. Oh, Midnight. I gulped down any welling sorrow. “So, where are you sending me?”

  “I am sorry, Victoria, it’s for the best.” Papa gave me a pitying smile. “I’ve contacted several academies that can handle our bloodline. Romania has an old and respectable wizarding university. The witch colleges of Salem and New Orleans in the colonies are, surprisingly, doing well.”

  “They aren’t called ‘the colonies’ anymore, Papa.” I corrected him with a roll of my eyes.

  “I’ll get used to it eventually.” He waved away my censure. “There’s also France and Greece to consider on the mainland. Ireland is passable. Italy is full of bloodsuckers.”

  “Nothing closer to home? Surely there’s a magical school in London or Bath—”

  “Victoria! They know you are here. You need distance and a remote location,” he said.

  “I understand,” came out in a whisper, my fists clenched tight. My curse would rule all of my choices.

  “There is one last place.” He admitted, shifting in his chair. “One academy that could hide you well enough until I return. I think it’s in Nottingham. Or maybe it was Mansfield or Derby? It’s not as prestigious or well-known, but they can do for you what I cannot. Teach you to wield your magic.”

  “I could learn on my own. You did.”

  “You don’t have the luck or the time, dearest, and perhaps you could use this to meet someone who would suit?” Papa looked me over, thumbs together. “You’ve refused Mr. Skelton and with the shattering wards, your coming out into society will be delayed.”

  “Again. Delayed again,” I pointed out, “You’ll be gone by my birthday.” I was practically on the shelf anyway. It felt so long ago when I’d made my curtsy before the royal court. One of the limited times I’d stepped beyond the boundaries after my curse. I hadn’t risked going to parties.
It didn’t matter; I was almost of age and ready to pick up my duties as the only heir to the Barony of Wendall. I didn’t need marriage, especially not to the limited selection of the magically-inclined peerage. Certainly not Mr. Skelton.

  All summer we’d entertained Sir Percy Skelton with his wife and eligible son, Jack, much to my dismay. Their intentions of marrying up were forthright, but there were also clear hopes from my father to create a match. It was the longest Papa had been home and so I’d thought to give them a real chance. Sir Percy had been pleasant enough, even if he was an air-aligned mage, but Jack…

  I shuddered, turning away to look out the window. I may be naive about the world outside my door, but I wasn’t completely brainless. Every time we were alone he’d snuck inappropriate touches, licentious glances down my dress front, and his leering suggestions of ‘waking my magic to fuller potential’ had been grossly unwelcome. At the end of the summer, I’d refused his offer and had not regretted it in the least.

  “As for Mr. Jack Skelton, we would not suit.” I hesitated to tell Papa his friend’s son was lacking basic decency. Jack didn’t want a partner, he wanted a bedmate. I wanted what my parents had and if that wasn’t possible, then I would have respect at the very least.

  “Your options are becoming limited. It’s in your best interest to go and be a part of a society with those of a similar nature to us. And if you happened to find someone…” He trailed off with a wave of his hand.

  “I can’t believe it! You want me to fraternize with”—I sputtered, how could he!?—“with young jackanapes while you’re facing unspeakable dangers looking for Mamma.”

  “I won’t always be here to protect you. I’d feel even better if your future was secure,” he said, more to himself as he rubbed at his lips. His thoughts turned inward.

  “At an academy for magicals?” Did he forget that I turned twenty-one in a little over a month? I wasn’t a child!

  “It’s the perfect solution to our problems.”

  “To your problems. Not mine.” I strode to the door, black skirts swishing.

  “Your choice, Victoria? Or I will make it for you,” Lord Wendell commanded from his desk.

  The looming choices set my heart pounding. The thought of going over the ocean or into the wilds of Romania turned my stomach sour. An adventure would have been wonderful, but any distance seemed catastrophic if I couldn’t come home. I was earth-aligned! Even if I couldn’t access my magic, I still longed to set down my roots and grow. Of course, it would be the obscure English academy; it was familiar soil if nothing else.

  “If I must go, let me stay as close to home as I can. The English academy will do.” I swallowed the bile of fear in my throat.

  “We’ll make arrangements for our departure as soon as possible. Tonight if all goes to plan,” he said, hastily scribbling down instructions before lifting the new telephone receiver I’d had installed for him. He looked up and paused his business. “Remember I love you, dearest, and don’t go outside.”

  “I know, Papa. I know.” I left his study at a whisper instead of the gale I’d hoped.

  ∞∞∞

  All around the servants bustled back and forth, readying Papa’s trunks, my own traveling cases and preparing the townhouse for departure and a long state of emptiness. White drapes fell over the furniture to look like ghosts of their former selves. Priceless works of art were covered or put into storage. The garden tempted me, but after losing Midnight I just couldn’t. I saw her small pink nose under every hedge, her silhouette in every shadow, and her blood coating each blade of grass.

  My last familiar had fought my curse bravely and still lost.

  Now I was being sent away and a silent calm settled over me. I went through the motions, but my heart wasn’t in it. Everything felt muffled, buffered by one of those white drapes keeping my emotions captive, holding my screams hostage. I wanted to rage, stamp my foot, but only my hands shook as I folded the last of my mementos in among my clothes. My journal, a silverplate of my mother, a feather, a tiny bell, a horsehair charm, two thin leather collars. Bits of those I was leaving behind.

  Tea was held in the library with just my father. No dinner parties tonight. Just the quiet scraping of the silverware on porcelain and the crackling of the fire to keep us company.

  “I sent your credentials on to the academy—Wildeward,” Papa announced after a silent first course, “Written statements from all your tutors and governesses. I’m afraid you will still have to prove yourself with weaponry, but from what I can glean they have a top-notch training field. The estate and grounds have been a safe haven for magicals for centuries.

  “Aside from that, they host a myriad of different subjects from which to choose. Information will be at your fingertips, dearest. This is an opportunity. You’ll be able to finally apply your magic.”

  “What good will that do if I can’t leave to help find Mamma?” I picked at the food on my plate.

  “That is my burden to shoulder. Your mother would be so proud to see you applying yourself to a higher education.” He hesitated, his knife suspended. “We discussed where to send you, you know. Long ago. When would you be ready? What magic would you develop? She wanted to teach you so many things… Wildeward was her choice. I preferred the Transylvania school if you had developed my wizardry talents. The curse took so much from us…”

  Silence stretched between us, tight and unforgiving.

  “What are we telling everyone?” I asked clearing my throat to break the tension. “They all know I never leave the house anymore.”

  Over the past six years, we’d slipped to the town gossips that my health had “declined” and I’d “departed for Bath” for a few summers. If I was in town, my “nerves” weren’t up to the London crowds which kept me from the balls and operas and shopping. There’d even been rumors of “hysterics” though Papa had shut that down after the first quack doctor had made inquiries. There would be no question as to the state of my ability and willingness to take up formal duties since I already acted on my father’s behalf when he was out of the country. I was a recluse from society, but not a mad one.

  “I let it be known you are going on the Grand Tour. As a birthday present before you settle down,” Papa said to his dinner plate.

  “Ah, of course.” My voice was calm, almost bored, and gave no hint to the rage under the surface. It was only everything I’d been denied wrapped in a neat package I could never hold.

  “Take the academic year, Victoria. If you prove capable with your magic—can manage your curse—then I see no reason why you cannot join me.” He flashed me a quick smile. “This whole Africa trip might be a bust, but I need answers and a solid team behind me. Everyone must pull their weight. I can’t afford to worry about you, dearest.”

  The fizzle of anger popped. Did he mean it? If I could truly master my magic, then I could break my curse and be free. I had a year. Less than, since the academic session had already started. Was it even possible to break my curse? If there was a chance, I would do everything in my power to make it happen.

  Afterwards, I was allowed port while Papa smoked a cigar by an open window. Companionable silence descended and I gazed at the family portrait looming over the fireplace. I’d been around ten when we had gathered to sit for the artist. Before the curse had come into our lives. Before I’d started to bleed.

  Impressionistic bits of color splashed across the canvas and dappled its subjects in light. Papa was tall and broad, like the oak at the top of the hill, with ruddy cheeks and dark wavy hair. Storm grey eyes gazed at my mother with adoration. He was happy. Mamma was embracing me, her olive skin such a contrast against the pale gold silk of her gown. I’d been the perfect mixture of the two people I’d loved most in the world. The inherited storm grey eyes from my father proudly stamped my heritage in a face a shade paler than my mother’s bold coloring.

  Now, the enforced solitude behind closed walls and lack of sun lent a paleness to my face. I was weak tea in comparis
on. Mamma’s painted smile was warm and happy. We’d run around the grounds before sitting for this portrait’s sessions. The flush of our cheeks and the wind in our hair captured by the artist. Around us, my pets—hardly familiars at that tender age—dotted the canvas. Two puppies rolling at our feet, a raven and a pony in the background, the tiny kitten in my lap…

  Yet another reminder of everything I’d lost to my curse.

  Why couldn’t I cry?

  ∞∞∞

  In the dark before moonrise, the motorcar was pulled around front. With my traveling coat wrapped tight around me and a carpet bag clutched tight to my side, I stepped out onto the front steps. Our butler passed the last few bags down to the porter then turned to look me over one last time.

  “You do us proud, Miss Victoria,” he said, lifting his chin and blinking to check his watery eyes.

  “It’s not forever, Alfred.” I patted his arm and fought down the lump in my throat. “You know how to keep me informed. I mean to stay in touch.” I kept my voice low and soothing.

  “Yes, miss.” He bowed his salt and pepper covered head as my father stepped out too. Alfred was loyal to the bone. I could count on him to keep things running smoothly in my absence and inform me of the slightest issue. Goddess knew, Papa wouldn’t care if the house fell down around his ears. His man of business saw more of me in the last few years than the actual baron. I clenched my teeth to keep from begging to stay. It wouldn’t do any good.

  Papa carried me the last few steps to the motorcar himself and placed me gently inside. Like I was fragile glass and not like it was just the ground that was my curse. I wasn’t an invalid! It was only if I touched unwarded ground that hellspawn and undead would be able to find me and come for my blood.

  He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll be back before the year is out, dearest, and keep up my correspondence in the meantime. Try to look at this as a new adventure.”

  “Easy for you to say, you're not the one going from one gilded cage to another.”