Daughters of the Moon Books 1 - 3 Read online

  Goddess of the Night and Into the Cold Fire copyright © 2000 by Lynne Ewing

  Night Shade copyright © 2001 by Lynne Ewing

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion Books, an imprint of Disney Book Group.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion Books,

  114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 100115690.

  This edition, 2010

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  ISBN 1-4231-4090-7

  V567-9638-5-09349

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication

  Data on file for individual titles.

  Visit www.hyperionteens.com

  Table of Contents

  Book 1: Goddess Of The Night

  Book 1: Prologue

  Book 1: Chapter One

  Book 1: Chapter Two

  Book 1: Chapter Three

  Book 1: Chapter Four

  Book 1: Chapter Five

  Book 1: Chapter Six

  Book 1: Chapter Seven

  Book 1: Chapter Eight

  Book 1: Chapter Nine

  Book 1: Chapter Ten

  Book 1: Chapter Eleven

  Book 1: Chapter Twelve

  Book 1: Chapter Thirteen

  Book 1: Chapter Fourteen

  Book 1: Chapter Fifteen

  Book 1: Chapter Sixteen

  Book 1: Chapter Seventeen

  Book 1: Chapter Eighteen

  Book 1: Chapter Nineteen

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-one

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-two

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-three

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-four

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-five

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-six

  Book 1: Chapter Twenty-seven

  Book 2: Into The Cold Fire

  Book 2: Prologue

  Book 2: Chapter One

  Book 2: Chapter Two

  Book 2: Chapter Three

  Book 2: Chapter Four

  Book 2: Chapter Five

  Book 2: Chapter Six

  Book 2: Chapter Seven

  Book 2: Chapter Eight

  Book 2: Chapter Nine

  Book 2: Chapter Ten

  Book 2: Chapter Eleven

  Book 2: Chapter Twelve

  Book 2: Chapter Thirteen

  Book 2: Chapter Fourteen

  Book 2: Chapter Fifteen

  Book 2: Chapter Sixteen

  Book 2: Chapter Seventeen

  Book 2: Chapter Eighteen

  Book 2: Chapter Nineteen

  Book 2: Chapter Twenty

  Book 2: Chapter Twenty-one

  Book 2: Chapter Twenty-two

  Book 2: Chapter Twenty-three

  Book 2: Chapter Twenty-four

  Book 3: Night Shade

  Book 3: Prologue

  Book 3: Chapter One

  Book 3: Chapter Two

  Book 3: Chapter Three

  Book 3: Chapter Four

  Book 3: Chapter Five

  Book 3: Chapter Six

  Book 3: Chapter Seven

  Book 3: Chapter Eight

  Book 3: Chapter Nine

  Book 3: Chapter Ten

  Book 3: Chapter Eleven

  Book 3: Chapter Twelve

  Book 3: Chapter Thirteen

  Book 3: Chapter Fourteen

  Book 3: Chapter Fifteen

  Book 3: Chapter Sixteen

  Book 3: Chapter Seventeen

  Book 3: Chapter Eighteen

  Book 3: Chapter Nineteen

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-one

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-two

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-three

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-four

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-five

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-six

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-seven

  Book 3: Chapter Twenty-eight

  About the Author

  Lynne Ewing is a screenplay writer who also counsels troubled teens. In addition to the Daughters of the Moon series, she is the author of two companion series: Sons of the Dark and Sisters of Isis. She lives in Washington, D.C., and Los Angeles.

  For Alessandra Balzer with deep gratitude.

  This book would not have been possible without

  her unlimited enthusiasm and encouragement.

  PROLOGUE

  In ancient times, it was said that the goddess Selene drove the moon across the sky. Each night she followed her brother Helios, the sun, to catch his fiery rays and reflect the light back to earth. One night on her journey, she looked down and saw Endymion sleeping in the hills. She fell in love with the beautiful shepherd. Night after night she looked down on his gentle beauty and loved him more, until finally one evening she left the moon between the sun and the earth and went down to the grassy fields to lie beside him.

  For three nights she stayed with him, and the moon, unable to catch the sun’s rays, remained dark. People feared the dark moon. They said it brought death and freed evil forces to roam the black night. Zeus, King of the Gods, was angered by the darkness and punished Selene by giving Endymion eternal sleep.

  Selene returned to the moon and drove it across the night sky, but her love was too strong. She hid Endymion in a cave; and now, three nights each lunar month, she leaves the moon to visit her sleeping lover and cover him with silver kisses. In his sleep, Endymion dreams he holds the moon. He has given Selene many daughters to guard the night. They are powerful and beautiful like their mother, and mortal like their father.

  CHAPTER ONE

  VANESSA CLEVELAND cursed silently as she walked down the street. She couldn’t shake the puzzling feeling that someone was following her. How could she forget it was the dark of the moon?

  Overhead, low, thin clouds crept around the red-tile roofs and brought the ocean’s cold. The cold didn’t come to her all at once, but slowly and gently. She started to shiver and wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or fear.

  Vanessa had passed two houses when a soft scuttling sound made her stop and turn. The breeze picked up, and a bunch of dead leaves scraped down the sidewalk toward her. She felt a surge of relief and smiled. She tried to focus on something pleasant to keep her mind off her fear.

  She thought of Michael Saratoga. His wild black hair hung in thick curls on his shoulders. He had strong, angular features, a sexy smile, and soft, dark eyes. She had liked him since the beginning of the school year when she first met him in Spanish class. But she had never imagined he would like her. Even now, fear of jinxing what might be forced her to push that sweet thought away. He made her feel all fire and ache down to her bones. That was good. That was also very bad. How could someone as different as she was ever expect to do a normal thing like have a boyfriend?

  Abruptly she was aware that someone was on the street with her. She looked behind her. She expected to see a person in a bathrobe walking a dog, a wad of plastic sacks in hand, or a homeless person trudging down the middle of the road pushing a shopping cart.

  But the street was empty. Was it the dark of the moon that was making her so jumpy?

  She tried to concentrate on Michael again and not think about the creeping shadows that seemed to be pressing closer with each step. Michael had asked her to dance eight times tonight at Planet Bang in Hollywood, and he would have spent more time with her if Morgan Page hadn’t kept pulling him out onto the dance floor. Michael liked to dance, and Morgan danced better than she did.

>   She tried to remember the feel of Michael’s cheek, his hand on her waist, his—

  Something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned sharply. Whatever it was had slid across the shadows and then was gone.

  She bent down and took off her heavy, wedge-soled shoes. The heels felt solid and lethal in her hands. She took two steps back and scanned the street. Then she knew. Relief broke through her fear. Her best friend, Catty, must be trailing her. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? It wouldn’t be the first time Catty had tried to scare her, thinking it was funny.

  “Catty,” she said. “I know it’s you, come out.” She spoke loudly, but a fine tremor had crept into her voice.

  No one answered.

  “Catty,” she started again. Her voice was soft now, a whisper filled with fear.

  She peered into the dark that clung to the side of a house. What had been there was gone. Had it only been an illusion of the dark?

  Finally, she turned and started walking again, her bare feet steady on the cool cement. Her mother had warned her how dangerous it was for a girl to be out alone in Los Angeles at night. Now anger filled her and made a knot in her throat. It shouldn’t be dangerous. Girls had a right to enjoy the night, to run wild under the moon and stars, not stay home huddled behind bolted doors.

  Anger quickened her pace and made her brave. She gripped her shoes tightly. When she got to the corner, she stood defiantly under the steady glow of the street lamp. She waited a long time in the amber light. If it were someone with evil intent, a gangbanger, mugger, or desperate homeless person, they would have attacked by now.

  She thought of Michael again, his hand on her cheek. Had he been leaning down to kiss her when Morgan pulled him away?

  Something skipped through the darkness. Something trying hard not to be seen. She was certain it was real this time, no trick of light and shadow. She turned to run and tripped over a tricycle lying on its side. Her shoes fell from her hands and scattered. The handlebar pushed painfully into her stomach.

  The tricycle hadn’t been there before. She would have seen something that size. Someone had crept behind her and placed it there. But how and when?

  She left her shoes, pulled herself up, and ran. She didn’t scream. A scream stole too much oxygen. She ran with savagery, her arms pumping at her sides. Already she could feel the arousal in her molecules, a soft and pleasant tremble. She could give in to her special power, but it was too chancy. She had a horrible feeling that what was happening to her now was somehow connected to her strange ability. She had always feared that one day someone would discover her secret.

  If one person discovered the truth, she would be hunted down, taken to some cheesy place like Las Vegas, and put on display. Then a new terror struck. Maybe the person skulking behind her was trying to frighten her into using her power. Perhaps a video recorder watched her, the owner hoping to capture the unthinkable on tape and sell it to the highest bidder.

  Whoever it was was getting closer. Footfalls pounded softly in the grass behind her, gaining. She didn’t glance back to see who it was.

  Her molecules grew more excited, pinging to be free of gravity. She imagined herself, invisible, running through her clothes, her stalker stopping to pick up the organza peasant dress. Too risky.

  Stay, she thought, stay. She had to concentrate to keep her molecules together. Her body longed to give in to the stretch of bone and muscle, and dissolve into a million fragments.

  Then another sound made her heart wrench.

  Other footsteps joined those of the person chasing her. More than one person this time, maybe more than two. Could it be even worse than she had first imagined?

  What was her mother going to do when she found out her daughter was a freak? What would kids at school say? High school was hard enough without this, too. All she’d ever wanted was to be like everyone else.

  She heard someone speaking. Then she realized the words were tumbling from her own lips in a high, keening pitch. What was she saying? Some forgotten prayer her mother had taught her when she was a child?

  Her lips formed the strange words again. “O Mater Luna, Regina nocis, adiuvo me nunc.”

  Besides English, she knew only a little Spanish. These words were definitely not Spanish or English. Where had they come from?

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a hand reach for her.

  The words gathered on her lips again, hard and strong. She spit them out. “O Mater Luna, Regina nocis, adiuvo me nunc.” The power of the words filled her as she spoke.

  And then her chasers were gone. She kept running, afraid to trust what she knew was true. She was alone.

  At the next block, she stopped and turned back. She rested her hands on her knees. Her breath came in gasps that stung her lungs. The street behind her was empty.

  A trio of lawn flamingos stood in front of her. She stepped across the wet lawn and pulled on the serpentine neck of the first bird. The body tore free from the legs. She tossed the pink plastic bird aside and heaved the iron legs from the ground. The iron rods felt good in her hands.

  She walked backward for half the block. She was only two blocks from Melrose Avenue now, and that meant people. She turned and ran toward the comforting traffic sounds, the garish neon lighting. The smells of Thai spices and northern Italian spaghetti sauces swirled deliciously around her as she barreled into the throng of kids crowding the sidewalk.

  She stopped near a bus stop and stared back at the street from which she had fled. Four boys and a girl sat on the bus bench. The boys wore the uniform of modern primitives. Silver hoops pierced nipples, eyebrows, nose, and lips. Tattoos curled in languid lines around their necks and arms, and black leather vests flapped against their naked white chests like wicked pelts.

  “Who you fighting?” the tall boy with the ratted black hair asked. He stared at her hand.

  She glanced up. She held one flamingo leg like a javelin, aiming, her muscles taut, ready to strike.

  She smiled to reassure the boy. He stepped back and stumbled off the curb. His eyes looked as if he saw something in Vanessa’s face that frightened him.

  “Go haunt another corner,” the girl said.

  Vanessa left them staring after her and started down Melrose. Her feet stepped in the black powdered grime that covered the street. She hated to think what foul things were gathering between her toes.

  At home, the porch light blazed a welcome and covered the small craftsman-style house in a halo of gold light. The twisted olive tree stood rigid near the front walk. She crept to the side of the house and hid.

  When she was sure no one had followed her, she walked to the back door, opened it, and stepped onto the back porch. She dropped the flamingo legs on the washing machine. The metal made a loud clank.

  “Vanessa,” her mother called.

  She walked into the warm kitchen. The smells of coffee, glue, and pencil shavings wafted around her. A large bulletin board hung on the wall above the table. Her mother called it her inspiration board. A fanfare of sketches and bold-colored swatches were tacked to it now. She worked as a costume designer for the movies.

  “You’re late,” her mother said and rushed to her. There was more fear in her eyes than anger. Her brown hair looked as if she had raked worried fingers through it. With cold hands she touched Vanessa’s cheek, and then held her tightly. “I was worried about you. I hope you did-n’t walk home. You know how I feel about that.”

  “I got a ride,” she lied. “Catty’s mother picked us up.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Catty’s mother wouldn’t care if you stayed out all night.” She did-n’t approve of the way Catty’s mother let Catty run wild.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Vanessa said. She felt genuinely bad that she had caused her mother so much anxiety. “Planet Bang closed at one A.M., not midnight.”

  “On a school night? You know that’s too late.”

  “I’ll make sure I check the time next time.”

  “If
there is a next time,” her mother muttered.

  “Mom, everyone goes to Planet Bang on Tuesday night. Tuesdays and Fridays are the only nights kids under twenty-one are allowed.”

  She stopped and followed her mother’s stare. Her feet were black with city dirt, one big toe bleeding.

  “For goodness sake, Vanessa, what did you do with your shoes?” her mother blurted out.

  “The new shoes hurt my feet,” Vanessa started another lie and stopped. Why did it seem like all conversations with her mother started or ended with lies? “I forgot them at Planet Bang. I’ll call and see if someone found them.”

  “From now on I’m going to pick you up. This is not going to happen again. Ten-thirty is late enough for a school night. You should be in bed.”

  “All right.” Vanessa stepped to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.

  “Did anything happen tonight that you want to tell me about?” her mother said, suspicion rising in her voice.

  “Nothing.” Vanessa sipped the water. It tasted metallic and filled with chlorine. She spit it out.

  “Something’s wrong if you’re drinking tap water,” her mother said. “You’ll poison yourself.” She poured a glass of water from the cooler in the corner and handed it to Vanessa.

  Vanessa swallowed the cool water, then stared at her mother. She had never thought of telling her mother the truth, but she had never felt so close to being exposed before this. What would her mother do? Maybe her mother had special powers of her own and had been waiting all this time for Vanessa to bring it up.

  “Mom, are you . . .”

  “What?”

  “You know . . . different? I mean, besides the clothes.” Her mother dressed on the cutting edge of fashion, wearing clothes before anyone even knew they were in style. That was her job. But sometimes it was embarrassing to have a mother so overly trendy. She had been wearing high-waters and pedal pushers two years ago, when everyone just thought her pants were too short.

  “A psychic once told me I didn’t march to the beat of a different drummer,” her mother explained. “She said I had a whole band marching behind me.”

  “No, I mean really different.” Vanessa’s chin began to quiver. “Like in the freak category.”