Moonlight Captivation [Moon Shadows Book 1] (3 page)

Hooking a left turn into an older part of the archives, they walked past wall-to-wall stone shelving, with scrolls and clay tablets haphazardly stacked. At the end of the room was a long, stone table with scrolls laid out and opened.

"These were translated from tablets a while back.” Slazzamar pointed to one of the scrolls. It was suspiciously laid out; no doubt, it had been read recently by others.

Neman closed in, staring down at the opened scroll, the language as familiar to him as his own breath—Sumerian. “This was written after my fall,” he muttered, skimming over the words and noting the date—right between the fall of Sumeria and the rise of Assyria.

"Well, it was written by Armod."

Neman realized Armod was an old priest from his temple. But Neman still could not believe he was to be the father of the prophesied “prince,” who, in theory, had to be powerful enough to seal a fracture as great as the one between the Realms. Only an extremely powerful god could do something like that; most gods were too caught up in their own affairs to even bother doing such a thing.

Fallen god of Ur shall rise again to sow his seed in the womb of the willing mortal, precious is she chosen to greatness. The moons shall shine brightly in his eyes. And the prince shall be brought forth, strong with the power to unite the powers under the heavens and earth. What is torn shall be made whole, what is broken shall be mended. Beyond the earthy planes.

"Firstly, I'm not a fallen god, and my powers were stolen; secondly, there is no date or timeline here, and how the heck does anyone know a woman is pregnant with this supposed ‘prince'?"

"Keep reading, Sherlock.” Slazzamar leaned against the ancient stone table.

Chosen, marked, anointed is she, by her mark shall she be chosen. Stone of knowledge will shine like the stars, the moon glow in the season of the Chosen One, she shall bring forth the prince. Great peril, great evil awaits her. Beware, beware the evil ones, who seek to destroy. Now is the time of her beauty, now is the time to heal all things. Beware. If the God of Summer fails, darkness shall forever fall. Under the heavens, over the lands, over seas, over every kingdom, evil will reign to the end of time.

Typically cryptic, but Neman got the main meaning. Anyone who wanted to retain any semblance of power in the Lower Realm would be after a helpless, pregnant woman. Doom and gloom for everyone, if the prophecy wasn't fulfilled.

"Fuck!"

"Oh, I think the fucking part is already over.” Slazzamar grinned evilly. “There are a few bits and pieces missing, but you get the gist of it. They have already been looking for her, Neman; I suggest you find her before they do. Personally, I don't want darkness over all the lands—there's enough shit to deal with as it is.” Slazzamar crossed his arms over his chest.

Neman knew Slazzamar was right—he needed to find her again, and before the demons did. But how could he have missed this? This prophecy was as much about him and this woman as about this “prince,” created to bring peace. It was another pathetic way the gods amused themselves and palmed responsibility off onto others.

Neman's anger flared. Vanessa was an innocent; as much as she had been created to bring forth a prophecy, Neman realized, she had been created only for him.

Neman looked up and turned toward the glowing Stone of Knowledge on the table. His shoulders sagged; they were both in it, whether they liked it or not. He needed to find whether Vanessa was his chosen one and whether he impregnated her.

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"Hi, Frank, what's your torment today? Salmonella Special or drop-dead pork rolls?"

The bald-headed, middle-aged, potbellied janitor, who had large ears making him look like a taxi cab with both doors open, was clearly unimpressed with Nessa's humorous take on the cafeteria food.

"I'm going for the heart-clogging, artery-hardening chips, covered in extra salt and sauce!” she said, cheerily reaching over him to help herself to the tray of chips and pile them on her plate.

She'd been craving fatty chips all day and now indulged her craving. Mercy General Hospital in Sydney was known to have the worst food in the vicinity. The staff knew if you cared for your health, you brought your own lunch from home. But today, a headache made Nessa sleep in later than she'd intended; now, she was without her alarm clock.
Note to self: buy new alarm clock. Second note to self: don't get a hangover and throw it out the window again.

With her fries smothered in tomato sauce, she weaved her way through the peak-lunch-hour-crowded tables. Darren was waving at her from a table in the far corner, so she made a beeline for it.

"Gracious, girl, you want to end up a patient here?” Darren grimaced at her suffocating chips as she slid into the chair opposite.

"I slept in. So sue me."

"I'll go get the coronary paddles ready after lunch.” Darren pulled out his perfect tuna and salad lunch.

Nessa rolled her eyes.

"Not everyone is as perfect as you.” She shook her head. “You know, I don't know what it is, but I've had the weirdest morning on record. I'm all achy, I swear my abdomen is swollen, my breasts hurt and I didn't drink a drop last night. I've been starving all day long, and yet, I've eaten everything in sight."

"Uh-huh. Well, those aren't going to help; it sounds like you're premenstrual, honey."

Nessa tossed several fries into her mouth, chewing them thoughtfully. “Gee, thanks, Mum. I know it can't be that; maybe I'm just coming down with something."

"Only you would punish yourself by coming into work sick.” Darren stuck his fork into his salad.

"Well, I don't want to stick around the apartment in case idiot Larry turns up; I got rid of his junk only yesterday."

Darren chuckled. “Took you long enough. So, is it in a pile outside the apartment?"

"And litter Sydney with more useless junk? Please, I like to think of myself as an environmentalist; it's in the dumpster out back."

Darren studied her for a brief moment. “You're looking kind of pale, honey. Maybe you should go home.” He slipped a fork full of tuna into his mouth.

Nessa licked the sauce off her fingers. She and Darren had been friends for six years and counting, ever since Nessa got her job in Medical Records, otherwise known as “the dungeon” of the hospital. Darren, a nurse in the ER department, strode in with a pile of records for her to file. He quickly picked up on her quirky sense of humor, and she made instant friends with the seriously gay nurse. Ever since, they shared many ups and downs, date disasters, girls’ nights in and out on the town—after all, they both had similar taste in men.

"Maybe I should just give up on men altogether and buy myself a cat.” She sighed.

"Don't you bloody well dare. I'm allergic to cats."

"No, you're not."

"Oh yes, I am—I'm especially allergic to single women with cats.” Darren dodged the chip Nessa threw at him. “I haven't given up on love yet, and I'm not about to let you give up either."

Nessa smiled fondly at her friend. “Thanks, Darren. What would I do without you?"

The two friends finished their usual lunchtime break before heading back to their designated workstations.

"Back to the dungeon again.” Nessa sighed, fatigue setting in.

"Nurse Manny is off again—I have to work a double tonight."

"No rest for the wicked, eh? I'll see you tomorrow, then?” Nessa turned, and a sudden wave of dizziness hit her. “Darren!” she managed to croak out before her view of the world tilted, descending into darkness.

"Am I in Hell?” Nessa cracked her eyes open, seeing Darren's worried face hovering above her.

"If Hell is Mercy Hospital ER, then sure, honey."

"What happened?"

"Casper has nothing on how white you went before taking a vertical nap. You've been out for a good hour and the docs have run a few tests. I told them you were stressed from a recent break-up, but, Nessa, they found something else, as well."

Nessa swallowed with sudden worry. “Please tell me they found out I was switched at birth and I'm really the daughter of a wealthy billionaire."

"If only we were all that lucky. Nessa, there's no easy way to tell you and better coming from me, than Dr. Deranged out there."

"Will you just tell me?"

"Honey, you're pregnant."

"Pregnant?” Nessa repeated, as if she hadn't heard the word in her life before.

"Yes, you're pregnant."

"What do you mean, I'm pregnant!” Nessa's voice bordered on the hysterical.

"Up the duff, bun in the oven, with child, expecting, knocked up."

"Thank you, Mr. Walking Thesaurus!” Nessa snapped.

"Honey, I'm always here to help...ooh, I'm going to be an uncle.” He clapped his hands together excitedly.

"You're a pain in the ass."

"Oh God, I hope so. Have you seen the new doctor on staff? Mmmmm-mmm, scrumptious, I'd like to be the pain in his ass."

Nessa sat up, grabbing onto Darren's white uniform. “Darren, there is no way I can be pregnant. I was told I'm sterile."

"Well, sweetie, you've just proved every medic you saw is a quack, unlike me, a true professional, so...” Darren leaned in closer, “...who's the lucky daddy?"

Still not believing it possible, she could only think of one candidate.

"Oh God, it can't be Larry.” She groaned, covering her eyes with her hand.

"The knucklehead, I'll-bone-anything-that-breathes Larry? It's only been three days since you caught him doing I'll-fuck-anyone-who-has-two-dollars-slut neighbor."

"I know, but it's been three weeks since we had sex, and we always used condoms—Larry insisted on it. Auntie Flow visited just last week!"

Darren gasped horror.

"A three-week dry spell? Oh, honey. Well, condoms aren't foolproof, as you now know, and you can still get bleeding spots when you're pregnant."

"Oh God, this can't be happening.” Nessa dropped her head into her hands.

Darren sighed. “Honey, I'll go get an ultrasound ordered for you as soon as possible. The doctor can determine when the little miracle was conceived. In the meantime, go home and get some rest."

"Darren?” Nessa grabbed her best friend's hand, panic suddenly gripping her. “You won't abandon me, will you?"

"You kidding, Nessa? I'm stuck on you like glue, honey. We'll get through this and raise the little hellion together. Big Uncle Darren, hmm...I like the sound of that."

Nessa smiled. “Thanks, Darren, you're the best."

"Oh, I know—just make sure you spread the knowledge around a bit more. I can't get pregnant, but I can sure have fun trying.” He gave her a Darren-knows-best grin. “Off with you now. I'll come by and check on you when I knock off work tonight."

Nessa climbed down from the examination table and gave him a hug.

Deep in the bowels of the Lower Realm...

Cowering, Fernos of Gorlon inclined his head, simpering toward his mistress. His skin still sizzled from the scorching blow she landed on him in her rage. Jezebel, Great Demoness and queen of her domain, flicked back her silken, dark green robe, shimmering in the dimly lit cavern.

"You let a potential Chosen One live!” Jezebel screeched. She did not like raising her voice, and doing so enraged her all the more. “I give you one simple task and you can't even complete that! I should kill you where you stand."

Ever since one of her informants told her the time of the Chosen One was drawing near, she decided to make a pre-emptive strike and kill this supposed Chosen One before the prophecy could come to pass and end her plans for domination of the Outer and Human Realms. Using the possible age and description of a mortal woman, who may have been Chosen, she'd sent Fernos, one of her most vicious tracking demons, to kill the Chosen One. She didn't care if any innocents were killed in the process; they were only casualties of the cause—her cause.

"Mercy, my Queen, allow me one more chance to prove my worth. Many women have already died by my claws—any of those could have been the Chosen One. My Queen, prophecies are always unclear. It was never guaranteed she was the right one."

Jezebel swiveled on her dais, glaring at Gremlock, her second-in-command—the one she charged to do all her killing when she didn't feel bothered to take part in the perverse pleasure herself.

"Neman came before I could kill her, my Queen. He has been hunting me,” the Gorlon Kat demon hissed.

"You left her near Neman? Get back there and kill this woman. I don't care if I have to destroy every last woman on Earth—I want this Chosen One dead. I will not spare you a second time, Fernos!” She knew, if this prophecy came to pass, she'd be out on her ass. Jezebel's hunger for power and wealth was too great to allow that to happen.

Slazzamar the Sneak came striding into the chamber, stopping just before the stairs of Jezebel's throne, curiously watching Fernos simper away. “My Queen.” Slazzamar bowed, with an overly dramatic sweep of his arm.

"You had better be bringing me good news, Slazzamar."

"Very good, if you're willing to pay.” His violet eyes were rimmed with red, and his white hair shimmered down his back.

Jezebel knew his price. It was a small one for his continued information and service to her. So far, his information about the prophecy proved more valuable than her own network of spies.

"Leave us now.” She snapped the order, in a tone no one under her command would dare disobey.

Demons scrambled out like rodents. Slazzamar stayed where he was until the last one scurried out. He approached her. “I bring news of Neman and the woman you seek."

Jezebel walked around her throne to the entrance to her chambers. Slazzamar followed.

"It seems the mating has already taken place and Neman knows the whereabouts of the Chosen One."

"Then my attempt to find the woman, before she was implanted, has failed. I will now have to destroy her, before the child is born.” Jezebel was enraged at the failure of her servants.

"That will not be easy, as he has read the prophesied scrolls and knows. No doubt, he will protect her until she delivers, and then, you're pretty much screwed."