The Moon Warriors: A Paranormal Romance Novella
A Coven of witches and a group of demons have been at war for centuries and now live in peace under an agreement. The terms are simple—members of either side are not permitted to cross the boundary. When Talia’s beloved is killed, she immediately suspects a demon is behind it and crosses the border to search for the culprit. On the other side, however, she meets her first demon, named Marcus, and her entire belief system is turned upside down. With the help of Marcus and Talia’s familiar, Mushroom, she gets to the bottom of her sweetheart’s death and learns the importance of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.
I don’t turn to look at him. Instead,he shoos away the girl who had been seated in the stool beside me and sits on it. He drums his fingers on the bar for a long moment and I’m sure he can seethe tension in my shoulders and my ramrod straight spine. Why isn’t he talking?And for that matter, why haven’t I run yet? I stare at his fingers, the sound like a metronome controlling my panic, and contemplate my options. My identity has been compromised and it hasn’t even been five minutes since I entered. I glance around the bar but no one else seems to have taken notice of me. If what I am is obvious, they don’t care. Should I run while I still have the chance or leave my fate in the hands of this demon?
I am very much like a stray, the wild ones who duck down when you approach, hoping to not be seen, to let my existence go without passer-bys being any the wiser. When someone sees through my guard, I don’t know what to do and I duck down,assuming that detection means death, but I know what my gut tells me to do—runaway like an alley cat with its tail between its legs.
“Barkeep,”the demon says, his deep raspy voice perfectly calm as if we’re not both aware of the fact that we are mortal enemies and I’ve broken the treaty between us by just being here. “Whiskey on the rocks for me and my date.”
I still at the words but don’t say anything as the bartender readies the drinks and approaches with them, placing one in front of the demon then one in front of me. He stops for a moment as the glass clinks against the bar, and for a heartstopping second, I wonder if he knows the truth as well.
Finally,he turns away to get a drink for another demon. The demon beside me smiles down at the cup in his hand before he swirls it subtly and takes a large sip of his whiskey.
“Your date?” I ask at last, turning slightly toward him but not enough for him to see much of my face.
“Would you rather me say the truth?” he asks, sideways smile on his face as he sets the cup back to the bar.
I say nothing.
His eyes move to the untouched glass before me. “Drink,” he orders.
“I don’t drink,” I say, also staring at the frosty glass before me. The last thing I trust is a drink from a demon. He could’ve signaled the bartender to put anything in it and I’d be none the wiser.