Trial by Moon

  Trial by Moon

  TRIAL SERIES, EPISODE ONE

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  By Lizzy Ford

  www.LizzyFord.com

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  Cover design by Lizzy Ford

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  KINDLE EDITION

  Published by Kettlecorn Press

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  Trial by Moon copyright ©2015 by Lizzy Ford

  www.LizzyFord.com

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  Cover design copyright © 2015 by Lizzy Ford

  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  A vampire, werewolf and fae walked into a bar with my father.

  The supernatural clan leaders walked out. My father did not.

  My father was the Kingmaker, whose sole duty was to select the next leader of our city. Now it’s up to me to determine which creature is worthy and capable of maintaining peace with humans and within our supernatural society. The secrets collected and passed down through twenty generations of Kingmaker’s are mine to wield to keep the predators in line.

  But first, I need to know the truth about which of them killed my father. I want my revenge, and I’ll do whatever it takes to find out what happened that night.

  It’s chilly and damp after a fall shower. The air smells of rain – and odd scents I can’t quite identify. One is darkly sweet, another minty, the third earthy. Dressed practically in a hoodie and jeans, I’m staring down the only three people in the world who can tell me what happened to my father.

  “Is that it?” one of them asks.

  All three of them are looking at the antiquated, leather book I hold in one arm. I self-consciously clutch it to my chest, as aware as they are of the power the old book contains.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Every dirty little secret belonging to you, your predecessors, other clan members and enemies for multiple generations.”

  “And only you can read it,” another says in a soft purr.

  “Only I can read it,” I reply. It’s a lie. I can’t figure out how to read it, but they don’t need to know that when they’re hiding my father’s killer.

  “Has that theory been tested?” asks the werewolf, a sexy, brawny alpha with whiskey colored eyes glowing with cunning.

  “Many times, Junior,” replies the vampire, a man with dark hair and sky blue eyes. Virtually immortal, he’s the oldest of the three but looks the youngest.

  “Never hurts to try again,” replies the fae, a man with sparkling green eyes and dirty blond hair that falls over one eye.

  No one makes a move towards me, though. My father said they’d test me, and I’m picking up the vibe they’ve already begun.

  “Show us your marks,” the vampire says and motions to my arm with his gaze.

  “It’s none of your business,” I reply and grip my lifeline, the book, more tightly. Each of them bears a faded tattoo marking their clan. Every supernatural I’ve ever met only has one. Because of our immunity to powers, Kingmaker’s are the only clan to interbreed with others, which means I bear the marks of seven separate supernatural clans from the seven clans that married into the Kingmaker’s. “We’re here to discuss my father and the successor to Gia.”

  “It is our business,” the werewolf replies in what I’d call a friendly growl. He’s calm but I have the sense he can snap at any moment.

  I go over the rules I’d learned from my father starting when I was ten. In truth, I’m terrible at rules. The Kingmaker duty is strict with protocols I’m trying to remember.

  The sexy predators wait, and even the werewolf is starting to smile, as if they know something I don’t.

  They are, to put it mildly, the sexiest, most incredible looking men I’ve ever met. My blood is humming with awareness, and I’ve examined each of them visually at least twice since arriving to the secluded spot at the end of Fisherman’s Wharf. My grandmother was a succubus, and the sex gene runs strong in my family. I’ve already mentally undressed each one and am debating which will have the stamina to keep up with me, unlike the human boys I’ve been dating in college.

  My whole life, I’ve been preparing to take my father’s place and always knew I stood apart – above – the supernaturals because of the gift and duty I inherited from my father.

  But these creatures – the three most powerful predators this side of the Mississippi – aren’t afraid of me. Perhaps they expect me to lie down and let them do what they want, because I’m new, a mere baby compared to the hundreds, if not thousands, of years they’ve been around.

  “You don’t know do you?” the vampire asks.

  Realizing I’ve completely lost track of my train of thought, in delving into the protocols to guide me into what is supposed to happen next, I draw a breath and refocus. I may be immune to their magic, but I’m definitely not immune to their sex appeal.

  “Know what?” I ask reluctantly.

  “First in your high school class, except you were too drunk to give the graduation speech,” the werewolf says, smiling.

  “Graduated Harvard with honors but opted to go skydiving instead of attending graduation, which is why you don’t have a degree,” the fae says.

  “Currently employed at the seventh job you’ve held this year, because you have a slight problem showing up to work on time,” the vampire adds.

  “And with authority,” the werewolf says.

  My cheeks grow warm.

  “You have an artistic temperament,” the vampire says almost apologetically.

  “With no artistic ability,” finishes the fae. “Though your language skills are off the charts.”

  “How do you know all this?” I demand.

  “Duh,” the werewolf says. “You think we haven’t been watching you your entire life? The next Kingmaker, whose decision will impact the fate of the supernaturals for centuries and condemn all three of us to a fate we don’t get to choose?”

  The tense silence that follows is a reminder of what kind of monsters I’m dealing with. I also kind of don’t blame them. Their fates are in my hands. I’m a stranger to them, and they have to trust I’ll get this right.

  “If you’ve been spying on me, then you know what marks I bear,” I snap, uneasy with the way they’re all looking at me as if they decided beforehand which part of me each of them wants to eat.

  “We watched from a distance out of respect for your father. We didn’t approach you until his death,” the vampire’s smile shows a hint of the beastly nature that lets him prey on humans.

  I’m about to remind him that I approached them, according to my father’s last instructions, which were to contact these three clans and no one else.

  “But what you don’t know,” the fae says. “Is that you’re not just choosing the next clan leader.”

  “I’m also solving the mystery of my father’s death,” I reply, anger rendering me too warm despite the fall chill.

  “You’re in heat,” the werewolf says bluntly. “You’re going to choose your mate, as is tradition.”

  “I’m what?” My eyebrows shoot up.

  “How did you think Kingmaker’s only mate with supernaturals? It’s not like you
would meet some nice guy online, fall in love and suddenly realize he was supernatural,” the fae points out.

  I’ve never considered how my father’s line met their spouses, and I’ve never thought it odd that Kingmaker’s always choose supernatural mates. It’s even less rational considering we live among humans, apart from the supernatural underworld.

  “Not it,” says the vampire.

  “We walked into that trap, didn’t we?” the fae shakes his head ruefully.

  “I’m not worried. There’s no werewolf mate taken by a Kingmaker ever. I don’t think they like our kind.”

  “Or you’re due,” the vampire points out.

  “Poor puppy,” mocks the fae.

  They’re fucking with me. They have to be.

  I have never seen these men before, only heard my father discuss their clans, most of the times not in a complimentary way. Kingmaker’s are notorious loners, immune to the magic of the supernaturals and treated with either respect, fear or completely avoided. Add to that the fact I alone am responsible for filling the leadership void after the recent disappearance and presumed death of the former leader, a vampiress named Gia, and no supernatural in the city will approach me.

  Except these three, the men who know what happened to my father, the men competing for the primary position in the city. My father would say that a supernatural who does not know better than to fear the Kingmaker is not a supernatural I should deal with.

  “Here’s the deal,” says the werewolf. “You get as much time as you like to make both decisions. We’ll determine the order and text you a time and place of where to start.”

  “In exchange for carte blanche to interrogate anyone you want to find your father’s killer, you must become full members of each clan. This means, you turn wolf, you enthrall others, you drink blood. Do you understand?” asks the vampire.

  “I do. But I’m not here to settle down,” I warn them. “I’m here to choose the next leader of our community.”

  “Kingmaker’s always think they’re in charge,” the fae says. “One of us will tame you.”

  I have the urge to go home now, read through all the books in my father’s library he devoted his life to in the hopes one of them is about supernaturals, then leave town. There’s some part of me that believes what they’re telling me, and I don’t like that instinct at all or the emotion bubbling close to the surface. My father is dead – and no one here but me seems to care.

  No wonder he hated all these supernaturals.

  I swallow hard, struggling to control my fury and sorrow. “How can I become all three?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “You wear this,” replies the vampire. He holds out an amulet. “The Kingmaker amulet. It allows you to become whatever clan member you want. You can never take it off, or you’ll be trapped as whatever creature you are when you do.”

  “Why do you have it?”

  “Vampires are often entrusted with relics,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve been around the longest. We’re protectors of the supernaturals’ history. Your father entrusted it to my clan.”

  I accept it. The chain and simple metal pendant are cold, heavy. “Your people won’t attack me?”

  “You’ll be under our personal protection. A temporary mate to the clan leader,” says the wolf.

  “Mate.” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Consider it a test drive.” The vampire winks.

  My succubus blood loves the idea, but my Kingmaker mind isn’t willing to buy off on their theory about me being in heat, like some kind of animal, or that I might ever consider marrying someone complicit in my father’s death.

  “Full benefits or name only?” I ask, hating my curiosity.

  “Show me your arm,” he replies.

  I consider each of them then tug up the sleeve to my arm where the markings of my family’s heritage are visible only to other supernaturals.

  All three draw near enough to see. They study the seven markings in silence.

  “That could be a problem,” the fae speaks first.

  “Not for us,” the werewolf replies.

  “What?” I glance down at my markings. Each is from a supernatural clan, and it strikes me that none of them are from the three predatory clans standing before me, which means no Kingmaker has married a vampire, fae or werewolf in at least seven generations.

  “There’s a significant chance you don’t survive this,” the vampire says casually.

  “You guys have been fucking with me since I got here,” I snap and move away from them. Yanking the amulet over my head, I then stuff the book into my tote bag and sling it over my shoulder. “There’s no way you can know that by looking at my markings!”

  “Four weeks,” says the vampire.

  I pause.

  “You have four weeks to decide,” the werewolf clarifies.

  “You said I had as long as I wanted,” I retort. “I’m not going to rush anything.” Especially when I’m silently kicking myself for not paying attention when my father tried to drill the rules of being a Kingmaker into me.

  “You misunderstand,” the fae says with a charming smile. “Something very bad happens in four weeks. It could be your death. It’s in your benefit and ours to decide before then.”

  I stare at him then look at the others.

  No one else speaks, but I have the distinct impression I’m not going to die by chance but at the hands of one of the three before me.

  And that’s when I start to realize how dangerous this game is, how dangerous these creatures can be, if they choose to be. My immunity, family name and the book in my tote are my defenses against them. But that’s it. I’m physically as vulnerable as any other human.

  One, or all of them, killed my father. I’m not about to trust one word they tell me.

  “Fuck off,” I say finally. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” Turning away from them, I resist the urge to hunch my shoulders as I walk away briskly, through the alley between restaurants lining the wharf, and to the parking lot where my ride is waiting.

  Except he’s not there. My car is, though. With a look around, I whip out my phone and text my latest fling-turned-casual-boyfriend. I’ve gone through ten since my father’s death, along with a case of vodka and more sleeping pills and N-Thrall than is healthy.

  “He’s gone,” says a soft growl from behind me.

  I twist to see the werewolf has followed me. With the three of them, I didn’t have a sense of danger, for they are competing for the leadership position and just as likely to off each other as me. But one on one, in the poorly lit parking area, the innate awareness of prey crossing paths with a predator leaves the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

  “You didn’t eat him, did you?” I demand.

  “I’m not a vampire or fae. I generally give someone a chance not to piss me off before I make them disappear.”

  My eyes go over his form. The biggest of them, he screams alpha in every way. Muscular, tall and rugged, he’s the epitome of raw male beauty of caveman proportions.

  “Good to know.” I fumble with my car keys, drop them and then snatch them back.

  He’s not moving from his position a safe distance away, instead watching me like the animal I know he is.

  “What do you want?” I ask, unwilling to let him see he’s rattled me. I refuse to show weakness to the man who might’ve killed my father and who definitely knows who did.

  “You’re mine for a week,” he says with a smile. “Go here tomorrow evening.” He hands me a business card with an address written in tight, neat handwriting on the back.

  “The lake?” I ask, puzzled.

  “It’s a full moon. You’re running with me.”

  I look up at him, surprised. “As a wolf.”

  “As a wolf.”

  A thrill runs through me.

  “With full access to my clan after we run. I wanna see if you can hang, first.”

  “No problem,” I reply. “How hard can it be to be a
dog for a night?”

  He laughs. “You’ll find out, won’t you?”

  The werewolf walks away.

  I glance towards the sky. It’s too cloudy for me to see the moon. Always up for an adventure, the idea of being a wolf cheers me up, until I recall their reaction to seeing my markings. Getting into the car, I lock it then tug up my sleeve once more. I know all these clans. What do they see that I don’t? Or are the predators messing with me again?

  Why is my heart beating so fast? Does some part of me know they’re right about everything?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell myself. I glance at the passenger seat then text my friend again.

  Fine. Didn’t know you had a bf already. Sorry, was his response.

  “Damn werewolf,” I mutter. Relieved my fling is at least alive, I pull out of the parking lot and drive home.

  I’ve got a day to find some answers and my father’s cluttered library to navigate.

  Chapter Two

  When I arrive at the lake the next evening, I’m a mess, suffering from a combination of allergies and sorrow. My eyes are bleary, my nose red, and I’m two seconds from telling a certain werewolf to fuck off so I can cry myself to sleep in peace.

  Resting my head against the steering wheel, I remind myself why I’m where he told me to be: because he possesses information I can’t figure out. I spent the day agonizing over the details of my father’s death, the surveillance videos, police reports and other evidence I spent a month pulling together.

  None of it makes more sense this night than before. Four people walk in. Three walk out.

  That’s it. That’s everything. That’s all that’s left of the man who successfully chose the last two supernatural leaders, who doted on and spoiled me from my birth until his murder, whose death brought out huge crowds from the supernatural and human societies mourning him. To have lived such a rich life, admired by every person and supernatural who met him, and died so violently …