By the Fight of the Silvery Moon: The Chronicles of Vern Redwood, #1

By C J DESANTIS

Enter the enigmatic world of Vern Redwood, where the paranormal meets the pulse of New York City's bustling streets.

As an investigative assistant at MIA (Magical Investigation Agency), Vern's days are a blend of intrigue and enchantment.

When a routine case takes a sinister turn. Vern finds herself thrust into a labyrinth of mystery.

With werewolves, forbidden magic, and nosy reporters in the mix, Vern and the team must unravel the truth. Along the way, they'll uncover secrets, dodge curses, and maybe even share a laugh or two amidst the chaos.

Join Vern Redwood on a captivating journey through the mystical heart of New York City, where every twist uncovers a new layer of deception. Will the team crack the case before it consumes them, or will the city's paranormal underbelly claim yet another victim?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C J DESANTIS
• Release date: Jun 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224873203

Book preview

Chapter 1

I tossed my tote on the bed, packed some clothes and my bathing suit, grabbed my phone, and headed into the living room. I’m off.

All right, have a good time, Ellie, my roommate, said. She stood about five nine with dark brown hair and eyes and a smile that made everyone happy. I met her a few months after I came to New York.

You do the same. Don’t worry. It’s going to be a no-stress evening, I said on my way out the door. I exchanged sups and laters with Ricardo, our security guard, in the lobby, leaving me free to begin my trek. I took a deep breath when I stepped into the cool night air. Somehow New York’s air seemed less polluted at night. My theory was that the evening ambiance made the city feel prettier and less dirty—my way of trying to keep myself from missing my trees. Usually not very effective.

With all that running through my head, I hoofed to the subway and caught a four train to Grand Central. There, I bought a ticket and settled onto a Metro-North Hudson train that  I rode to New Hamburg. Compared to Manhattan, the hamlet—it couldn’t even be called a town—felt like another universe. It comprised the southern corner of Poughkeepsie and reminded me of a very small magical community in northern California.

I wove down streets and passed quaint homes to the southern edge of town, where Wappinger Creek emptied into the Hudson River. And I gawked like an idiot. I grew up on the Pacific Ocean—the biggest puddle on the planet—and this tributary never ceased to amaze me. Go figure.

When I exhausted my tourist potential for the evening, I collected my wits, reattached my jaw to my skull, and plunged into the trees that lined the creek. Safely out of sight of any people, I took cover in a thicket of bushes and changed into my skirt and tank. Dressed for summer in March, I packed my clothes away, slung my tote over my shoulder, and stepped from the bushes onto the path.

On your mark. I stretched and planted my feet. Deep in the ground, the trees’ roots tugged at me. I gave all I could afford to give back, taking nature’s warmth and power into my body.

Get set. My eyes fluttered closed, and I threw my head back. It was almost as if my hair had never been chopped short and deprived of its curls, and my bond had never broken. Vitality flowed in me, pure and strong.

Go. I loped forward. An invisible line pulled me onward, keeping me from colliding with nature. Joy flooded through me, an unbreakable tide. Ten years ago, my forest elders advised that I use as little of my dryad magic as possible. The better to keep you safe from your tree’s influence. Normally, I took this advice to heart. But when I got away from the city—really, when I came to visit Pearl—the forest tempted me too much to resist.

After both forever and only an instant, I reigned in my tree spidery sense. Despite my occasional lack of caution, I worried about my tree finding me. Humans took nature’s bond for granted. In reality, its strength dwarfed anything else on earth. Feeling part of something that big, if only for a moment, took immense restraint to leave behind.

Not going there right now. I forced my eyes open and clamped down on my emotions. The plants around me regained their life, browns and greens deepening to healthy hues. I suppressed a sob. This was natural and needed to happen.

Using the rest of my control, I broke the link. The strand spiraled back into the ground, taking the warmth and sense of power with it. The most difficult part of reconnecting to nature was letting it go again. It was worth it, though, for those few moments of home.

I took a minute to collect myself. When I was sure I wasn’t going to cry, I faced the creek. Trees stretched across the opposite shore, and the water itself shone a deep blue in the dying light. The view was breathtaking.

And yet it held very little responsibility for pushing the rest of the sadness out of me. No, credit for that fell to the mermaid perched on a rock at the creek’s center. Not even Pearl’s hair depressed me, despite it being the same type of curls I’d lost.

I stepped clear of the trees. Hey, Pearl!

Pearl’s blue eyes lit up. Vern! She flipped off her rock and dove into the stream, her royal-purple tail and lavender fins splashing through the water behind her. Oh my God. It’s been forever. She pulled herself up on the riverbank, her long gold curls draped, behind her.  How are you?

I knelt, dropped my tote, and braced myself for the customary killer hug. I’m good. You?

She responded with said killer hug. Awesome. She pulled away and puffed out her chest. As always.

New shells? If the chest puff wasn’t a hint, I didn’t know what was.

Yeah, you like them? she said as if she hadn’t drawn my attention to them. I found them up north.

They’re beautiful.

Pearl winked. I was getting tired of the blue and green ones. So when I saw these yellow, purple, and orange beauties, I snagged them. Ariel had the right idea.

I laughed. That movie really did change your outlook on life.

Girl, she said, flipping her golden curls in front of her shoulder. Disney took that outlook on life from me.

That made me laugh again. Pearl was good for that. So what’s our plan for the evening?

Night at the grotto sound good?

It sounded amazing, actually. "What were you saying about The Little Mermaid not influencing you?"

Pearl poked my shoulder. That doesn’t answer my question.

I know. And a night at the grotto sounds great. I dragged my tote into my lap and waved my hand over it, making use of the water-resistance spell Warren taught me. Ugh, and there I went thinking about Warren. Truth, anything sounds better than the city right now. Warren Gazeben my boss at MIA. That would be the Magical Investigation Agency. I met Warren six years ago at NYU. He graduated three years ahead of me. We have been friends ever since.

Pearl’s smile turned to concern. Something wrong down there?

I finished the spell and hooked the bag back over my shoulder. I work for an investigation agency. Something’s always wrong.

Hah. I meant with you specifically.

I braced myself against the bank. The usual, but I promised myself I wouldn’t think about it.

Ah, so missing home and War—

Nope. I wasn’t thinking about him. I leaped over Pearl and into the water, effectively cutting off the conversation. Last one to the grotto’s a fairy!

Hey! You cheater!

I giggled, fully taking advantage of the fact that my tree hadn’t stolen water breathing from my list of tricks, and sped forward. Pearl’s grotto lay nestled in a cove about ten minutes west when walking at a respectable speed. Swimming as fast as I could—because even as a dryad who could breathe underwater, I was still racing a mermaid—travel time was more like five minutes.

Greens and blues whizzed through my peripheral vision. Fish darted out of my path. And then golden curls swam into my line of sight.

I put on an extra burst of speed and flung myself forward into the grotto. I win!

Pearl halted, just sixty to zero—no issues. Good race, girl. You’ve really been working on that.

I settled onto one of the sponge beds that served as lounge chairs. The YMCA is there. I might as well use it.

Hah. Pearl stretched out on her own sponge. Man, all that racing makes me hungry.

I take it you have a plan for dinner?

Of course I do, Pearl said. Hope you’re in the mood for caviar.

You didn’t steal eggs from some unsuspecting fish again, did you?

She grinned. Nah, the mother offered them up. Apparently five thousand little ones were more than she wanted.

Five thousand?

I know, right? Mermaids have maybe four or five offspring at most. Dryads have what ... one or two hundred over your entire life?

I didn’t answer right away. Images of five thousand small dryads bombarded my brain, tying my tongue and slowly stealing my appetite. Holy shit. Yeah, one or two hundred for dryads, and that’s if we have a steady mate stream and are healthy. Mate stream simply meant the number of usually human lovers a dryad would have in their long life span.

Exactly, Pearl said. And I don’t even know how you do that. I think five’s too many.

I shuddered. If I was honest, I thought five was too many. The way my life went, though, I might not even have to worry about that many. No, dryad. Happy time. Stop it. So, where is dinner?

Pearl snapped to a sitting position. I believe the catering company should be here within half an hour. She reminded me of my sisters when they used to mock business professionals.

My sisters ... Yo, dryad!

Pearl? A small, bright-orange fish with a seaweed net in tow swam into the grotto.

My memories of home dispersed. Thank Mother Nature for fish with good timing.

Speaking of the catering company, Pearl said. She turned to the fish. Hey, Irvette, how are you?

Good, thank you, Irvette said, dragging the net to Pearl. And yourself?

Can’t complain. Pearl opened the bag. Oh, Irvy, this is great.

Irvette shrugged as much as a fish could shrug. That’s not even half.

Wow. Pearl looked genuinely impressed. Do you want to stay for dinner?

I winced on Irvette’s behalf. Pearl had good intentions, but asking a mother to stay for dinner when dinner was her eggs was just on the list of things you didn’t do.

Pearl must have realized this for she blushed. Sorry.

Irvette laughed. It’s all right, she said, turning to me. And hello, Vern.

Hi, Irvy. Good to see you.

Irvette smiled her fish smile. Well, I’d better get going. Thousands of little ones back home, and I feel bad leaving my husband alone with them for too long. Enjoy your dinner, girls.

Thanks, Irvy, you too, Pearl and I said in almost perfect unison.

When Irvette was gone, Pearl pulled a mixing bowl-shaped shell from behind her sponge. She’s brave.

She is, I said. I wouldn’t raise that many.

Pearl shuddered. True story. She dumped the eggs into the shell and placed it between us. Dinner is served.

I took some eggs from the bowl. One of the perks to being a nature nymph, my menu spanned several options. That was nice of her, though.

It was. Pearl sprawled out on the sponge again. So, talk to me, girl. How’s things in the city? How’s Ellie? Work? Warren?

I ignored the emphasis on Warren’s name. Ellie’s good. Work is going well; it’s actually been slow until earlier this week. We got a few cases from the NYPD. Pearl worked part time for MIA under the title Water Surveillance Agent, which meant that I could really talk about the job with her.

Hah. She gave me a smug smile. Nice try, but you’re not going to get off the hook for talking about Warren by dropping case information.

I hadn’t even thought of it, but now that Pearl mentioned it, it wasn’t a bad idea. I filed it for potential future use. Warren is good too.

Just good?

I sighed. You know it’s just good.

The smug smile disappeared, replaced by sympathy. I know, girl. Hang in there. The boy’s a genius. He’ll figure out something to fix your problem.

I shrugged. I’m not going to get my hopes up.

Pearl kept talking as if I hadn’t spoken. I’ll bet he’s amazing in bed. Her eyes glazed. I mean, he’s perfect, a genius, gorgeous, high-paid, on the rise, probably be running the national branch of MIA someday.

Every time I came to see Pearl, she went on about Warren. The best way to move the conversation forward was to pretend I wasn’t listening.

Hey, girl, are you still with me?

What? Oh, yes, you were drooling over Warren again.

No. I don’t know how you—

She stopped. Why did she stop? It wasn’t like Pearl to shut up about Warren. Wha—

Shh.

Shh? What the hell? Is—

Shh. She cocked her head. Do you hear that?

I copied her lead, but I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Hear what?

Shh, listen.

I tried again. It took me a minute because I wasn’t used to listening through water, but I did hear something.

It sounds like sirens, Pearl said. Not the water kind, the police car kind, but something’s off about it.

I strained to hear. A high-pitched noise drifted down through the water; definitely not police sirens. It sounded more natural, less automated. The noise cut off suddenly and was replaced by a shriek. It might be animals fighting.

Pearl swam upward. Let’s go see.

I sprung off my sponge and followed her. Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Why not?

Despite my body’s insistence that we stay away from the shore, I didn’t have a good answer to that. So I kept quiet. In reality, my mind filled with violent thoughts. A product of working for MIA—when I heard something that sounded like the makings of a crime scene, I pictured a crime scene. It didn’t matter that I was in the middle of the woods, surrounded by nature and wild animals, and likely to hear animals fighting. My mind still constructed a crime scene.

Oh my ... Pearl’s voice drifted down through the water.

That wasn’t good. I propelled myself upward. Pearl? Are you all right? What—

Shh. She pointed toward shore. Look.

My stomach lurched. Maybe my crime scene thoughts weren’t premature. Two wolves—freaking giant wolves—ripped at each other’s throats in the clearing beside the water. Then they stood on their hind legs, revealing that one was larger than the other. Hold on a second. Those are not ordinary wolves. Those are werewolves, Pearl.

Pearl leaned closer to me. What are they holding?

Fortunately, my dryad night vision was another ability that wasn’t taken away by the separation. Whatever they are they’re glowing in the moonlight. The moon wasn’t quite full, but it was close enough. Then it dawned on me. They were holding daggers. This is a mate duel. Which means one of them is going to die. Those are silver daggers. I flailed, remembering at the last second not to scream. I tensed to dive and swim for my life, but Pearl’s grip tightened.

Vern, look.

I looked, conscious of the fact that I was gawking at violence—a supposedly human and definitely not dryad trait. I saw the larger wolf thrust forward with his foreleg, driving his dagger into the smaller wolf’s left shoulder. The small wolf let out a deafening squeal and fell to the ground. The bigger wolf howled, stretching his forelegs up to the moon. As if he was proclaiming his triumph over his opponent. Then he dropped down on all fours and darted into the forest, leaving his prey behind.

What followed was a deafening silence.

Is he gone? Pearl’s voice sounded like a gunshot even at just above a whisper.

It took me a minute to find my voice. I sure as hell hope so.

We should get out of here.

I had that thought. Unfortunately, I also thought that whatever just happened had murder written all over it. If I was right, I needed to check it out and call it in. As tempting as that sounds, I have to assess the damage. I pulled my arm free of Pearl’s grasp and swam toward shore.

But what if the other wolf comes back?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I don’t think he will.

Oh, really? Pearl didn’t sound as if she believed me even a little.

I propped my elbows on land. No. If he’s magical, he just committed a crime. He’ll want to put distance between himself and his victim.

Pearl hoisted herself onto the bank. I hope you’re right.

So did I. I’ll be right back.

Pearl grabbed my arm before I could drag myself out of the water. Actually, Vern, you may as well just call it in now. She pointed to the dark splotch that was the victim. That doesn’t look like a wolf to me.

So much for my no-stress evening. Wonderful. In that case, I’ll just make sure and then call it in.

K, be careful.

I hauled myself onto the bank and trudged toward the body. He wasn’t moving, and I didn’t hear any labored breathing. Those were not good signs. As I got closer, I saw that Pearl was right. The wolf was back in human form, which meant that he was magical and that the wound was life threatening. I threw caution to the wind and ran toward the injured man. I knelt down beside him to check his pulse and got nothing. The dagger was still lodged into his shoulder, and there was a lot, a freaking lot, of blood. I checked the pulse one more time and still got nothing. This was so my life. I looked at the man’s face. To make matters even worse, he looked familiar. He was clean-shaven and ... oh my God.

Chapter 2

Staring down at the blood-covered body, I realized that I did know this person. He was the curator of the Metro Art Museum. I met with him the other day to discuss a robbery from what we believe to be a magical break-in at the museum, and now he’s dead. His name was Eliot Keeper. I got up and ran back to Pearl.

Vern, is he dead?

Yes, and I know who he is.

Are you sure it’s the same person?

I’m positive. I was freaked. I’d never witnessed a murder and was having a tough time holding it together. Get it under control, girl, you have to call Warren. I reached for my cell phone but stopped when I remembered it was in my tote in Pearl’s grotto. I ambled back to the water’s edge. No point in hurrying. It wasn’t like there was anything I could do for Keeper now. I dove into the water and swam back down to the grotto.

Pearl followed. Are you going to call it in?

I have to. I just can’t use my phone down here. I grabbed my tote and kicked back to the surface. We perched on the river’s edge, and I fished out my phone.

Good thing Warren taught you that spell, Pearl said.

I tightened my grip on my phone in an effort to keep my hands from shaking. It worked enough for me to hit Warren’s number. He was going to be so happy to hear from me. I reluctantly held the phone to my ear. You might want to take cover, I said to Pearl.

She shrugged and didn’t move.

I shrugged back. It was her eardrums.

Vern? Warren answered on the first ring. His voice was full of the worry ... joy I knew it would be and pitched at a normal volume. That would change.

Hi, Warren. I kept my voice light. Are you busy?

Not at the moment.

Do you want to be?

Vern ...?

I have a dead body, and you’ll never—

You have a what? There went the volume control.

A dead body. In a field—

Aren’t you up at Pearl’s?

What, people can’t die in the middle of nowhere?

Vern.

Yes, sheesh. I have a dead body up near Pearl’s grotto. If you stop cutting me off, I could explain.

My boss’s breathing filled the line. Sorry, continue. Warren tended to freak out when someone on his team found a dead body. Okay, Warren freaked out when I found a dead body.

Thank you. Anyway, I have a dead body up near Pearl’s grotto. I witnessed the murder, and, ready for the best part?

You witnessed the murder?

Yes, I witnessed the murder. Don’t worry, the killer didn’t see me. He was a werewolf, and—

A werewolf. Are you sure?

I swear if you interrupt me one more time I’m hanging up. Can I finish my report so you can call the team in?

Right, sorry.

Sure he was. And, the body belongs to one Eliot Keeper, former Metro Art Museum curator—

Eliot Keeper is a werewolf? That’s crazy.

That interruption I let slide. I got through my report. Yes, and he was killed by another werewolf. With what I’m pretty sure must be a silver dagger. Silence filled the line. Warren?

I’ll call the team. We’ll be there as soon as possible. I’m sending Jerox and whoever he brings with him up there—

I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

I’m aware of that, Warren said. But if the killer comes back, they can restrain him.

Oh, I said. True. All right, I’ll see you when you get here.

Hopefully that won’t be too long. Make sure the crime scene doesn’t get contaminated.

On it, boss. I waited for the line to go dead before sighing.

That was a heavy sigh, Pearl said.

The team is on its way, and Jerox and company will be here shortly.

Jerox is coming? Pearl smiled.

I refrained from groaning. There was a dead body less than fifty feet from me, and Pearl was excited about seeing Jerox. Pearl fixed her hair. How do I look?

Was she kidding me? Pearl, I really don’t have time for this right now. I was trying to stay focused and in control. Otherwise I might start to ooze, a fringe benefit from when I separated from my tree.

Before coming to New York, I lived in northern California as a dryad to a poisoned redwood tree. It had been extremely painful. I put up with rashes and all kinds of shit until I was eighteen. At that point, I decided I’d had enough, and ancient magic was called up to break the bond.

What I really needed was calm and total quiet.

Pearl clutched my arm and pointed skyward. The hotties have arrived.

So much for calm and quiet. I glanced upward and nodded. Yup, that’s them. Three dark blobs circled overhead, descending and growing larger and more human shaped.

Pearl fixed her comb in her hair so that it held the curls behind her shoulder.

I shook my head and took in a deep breath and released it. If I lived through this and managed not to kill Pearl, I saw a three-day nap and bubble bath in my future.

The blobs landed about thirty feet from where Pearl and I sat. Up close, it was obvious they weren’t human. If the giant wings protruding from their shoulders didn’t give it away, they also sported horns, claws, and talons.