Savage Moon: Magic and Moonlight, #1

By KT Yarrow

Eben Savage spends most of his time pretending he doesn't have magic. It's a painful reminder of the mother he inherited it from and lost. But when a girl is killed by dark magic just outside of town, Eben is the only one who might have the power to stop her killer—if he can actually get his wonky magic to listen to him, that is.

 

He doesn't count on falling for her brother, a handsome and surly werewolf named Drystan Lowell, who tells him that his entire bloodline has been killed in the same ritualistic way as his sister. Now, Eben is the only thing standing between Drystan and certain death. With his friends caught in the crossfire and his crush's life on the line, Eben will have to reckon with the supernatural side of himself to keep Drystan from becoming the killer's final victim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KT Yarrow
• Release date: Jun 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224773121

KT Yarrow

KT Yarrow writes what she loves—a mishmash of action, romance, horror, and fantasy starring characters from all walks of life. She lives on a farm with her family, her head in the clouds, and a Bachelor's degree in Psychology that she never uses.

Book preview

Chapter

One

There’s a ghost at the foot of his bed.

Eben has never felt more underdressed. The blankets pool uselessly in his lap, forgotten in the wake of his visitor’s unexpected presence. Frigid air conditioning pebbles his bare skin with goosebumps. His window blinds are raised, and watery moonlight filters in through finger-smudged glass. He fumbles blindly for his bedside lamp, which floods the room with buttery yellow light, throwing the ghost into garish relief.

Though her wounds are slick with blood, it doesn’t drip. It doesn’t stain the blue rug under her feet, and the wall is visible through her hunched form. Her face is pale, her lips colorless. Her dark hair hangs dull and lifeless around her face, and her blue eyes are pinched with dismay. She looks more horrified than he feels.

Little wonder why.

Who are you? he asks calmly.

She tries to speak, her mouth forming around silent words. One bloodied hand flutters at her neck, where she’s been sliced deeply from ear to ear.

You can’t speak?

She shakes her head.

He turns his head toward the door without looking away from her. Dad! he calls, his eyes falling to the gaping hole in her chest. Her heart is missing, and what’s left of her chest looks like raw hamburger meat. She’s not the first ghost he’s ever seen, but she is his first murder. There’s no way this was an accident. Dad, there’s a ghost in here!

His dad—the chief of police in their small town—would know what to do about a murder victim nearby, but he hears nothing from his dad’s room down the hall.

He slides out of bed, grabbing last night’s jeans off the floor and dressing quickly. The ghost watches him fretfully, keeping one hand over her throat and another over the hole in her chest. Some residual self-preservation instinct to stifle the bleeding, or to shield him from the gore? Eben doesn’t know, but frankly, he’s grateful for a reason not to look at it. Seeing ghosts is a lot like seeing dead bodies. They look as they did when they died, and it never gets any easier. He focuses on her face instead.

She’s pretty—or she was. Though her dark hair is matted and dull now, he can imagine it was glossy as a raven’s feathers when she was alive. Her light blue eyes would’ve been electric when she was in high-definition, living color. Her cheekbones are sharp, her nose gracefully sloped above bow-shaped lips.

He doesn’t recognize her, though, and that’s also unusual. It means she’s from out of town. He knows everyone in Hollow Rock, a small, northern California town that’s not exactly known for its high tourism. What brought her here, and why was she murdered here?

Fully dressed, he turns bodily to face the ghost and says, I’m assuming you’re here because you have unfinished business.

She nods fervently.

Do you think you could take me to your body?

Another nod.

Okay. He swipes his phone off the bedside table and follows the pale specter out into the darkened hallway.

There’s a text from his dad waiting for him already.

Got called into a crime scene. Didn’t want to wake you. Be home as soon as I can. If you’re reading this before your alarm, go back to sleep.

No can do, Dad.

Have the cops found your body? he asks the ghost.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not entirely sure she heard him.

He presses the first speed dial and brings the phone to his ear.

"Eben? Charlie Savage’s baritone voice is tight with stress. What are you doing up?"

What kind of crime scene were you called to? he asks, sailing down the stairs and through the kitchen with the ease of one who’s done it a thousand times.

There’s a shuffling sound, and Eben imagines his dad moving away from the other uniforms. When he speaks again, his voice is hushed. "It’s a murder, and it’s… worse than anything I’ve ever seen."

Dead girl, out-of-towner, throat slit and heart missing? He grabs his keys off the hook by the door.

There’s a long silence, and then, "She’s there?"

Yep. She’s leading me to her body.

"Eben, this place is crawling with cops and forensics right now."

I don’t think she cares about that. He doesn’t bother with the garage light. The automatic door is still open from his dad’s hasty exit earlier, and the street light at the end of the driveway provides enough light for him to see. There’s an empty void between his car and the door where his dad’s pickup truck normally sits. Cool autumn air blows in through the open bay.

"I… Okay, fine, but we’ll have to make it look like you followed me out here. I don’t need the others asking me why I’m inviting my teenage son to crime scenes."

Sure, as long as the grounding is just for show, Eben says, flinging himself into his red Chevy Cobalt and backing out of the driveway. I’m headed that way. See you soon.

The ghost girl doesn’t do anything as mundane as ride in the car with him. As he backs out into the road, his headlights shine across her, standing in the yard. She’s pointing with her right hand, so he turns the car that way and drives. At every intersection and turn, he sees her, standing on the side of the road and pointing which way he should go.

It’s been six years since he’s seen a ghost. Hollow Rock is a small town, and bad things rarely happen here. The last one was at a car accident on the side of the road. He’d been in the passenger seat of his dad’s truck. They were stuck in a line of cars for fifteen minutes. Eben, eleven years old and still new to his own abilities, was barely able to keep his lunch down. The ghost of a boy stood outside his window until they inched forward enough to see the scene of the accident. The boy’s throat had been sliced open by a shard of glass. Blood coated his front, soaked into his shirt. He’d simply stared at Eben, his pallid expression twisted with disbelief, until he turned toward something only he could see, raising a hand as though to shield his eyes. He’d disappeared, and Eben had burst into tears.

He doesn’t cry now, though, as he comes to a deserted stretch of road with nothing but forest on either side. She’s standing in the grass, pointing solemnly toward the forest, so Eben pulls over on the side of the road and gets out, glancing around. If his dad and the rest of the department are already at the site, where are they? Shouldn’t there be cop cars here?

Without a glance back at him, she disappears beyond the tree line. Sighing heavily, Eben trudges after her. It’s even darker here. The tree canopy obscures the pale light of the full moon, leaving him fumbling blindly. Low hanging branches scratch at his face, and roots seem to be reaching out to trip him. He eventually settles for using his phone’s flashlight to help light his way, though it does little more than blind him to everything that’s not immediately in front of him. At moments like this, he regrets not practicing more with his magic. A spell for light would come in really handy right now.

The ghost is flickering in and out of sight, and Eben isn’t sure if it’s because she’s hard to see in the darkness or because her time is almost up. Ghosts don’t usually get to stay long.

Up ahead, Eben catches sight of intermittent lights beaming through the trees. Flashlights. They’re almost there.

The ghost comes to an abrupt stop, flickering more prominently now. She turns to face Eben with desperation.

You’re almost gone, aren’t you? he asks.

She nods. Her mouth opens, but only a rasp comes out. Her chin wobbles. She rasps again.

Eben shakes his head, longing to reach for her, to place a hand on her shoulder or give her a hug. It’s okay. Do you have family you want me to try to contact?

She nods frantically.

Are they here in town?

Another nod.

Is it more than one person?

She shakes her head, holding up one finger.

One, okay. Boy or girl?

She holds up one finger again. The first one.

Is this a boyfriend or husband?

She shakes her head.

Father or brother?

Two fingers. The second one this time.

Okay. I’ll find your brother.

Her hands fold over her mangled chest, and she closes her eyes, eyebrows drawing together in earnest.

Eben offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. I’ll find him. I’ll tell him you love him and you’re watching over him.

Her mouth lifts in some semblance of a smile, and she opens her eyes, dashing a tear from her cheek. She takes a deep breath, smile fading, and her shoulders relax. She looks at something over Eben’s shoulder, something resentful and unhappy in her gaze as she finally fades from view.

Eben blows out a breath, turning toward the lights up ahead. He makes sure to keep his steps loud, telegraphing his presence.

Who’s there? someone shouts. There are a series of shouts after that as the police fan out to find him.

Eben raises his hands above his head, flailing to make himself more visible as they approach him. It’s just me! It’s Eben! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare anyone!

Eben, Phil groans, lowering his gun and sagging, pressing a hand to his chest. His sandy blond hair is mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it, his normally golden skin unusually pale. "What are you doing out here?"

Did somebody say Eben? a familiar voice says sternly, and Charlie Savage appears over Phil’s shoulder, silhouetted in beaming light with his hands on his hips. What the hell are you doing here, kid? You could’ve gotten shot! Why are you sneaking around a crime scene?

Eben affects a weak smile for his dad. You weren’t home.

Did you track my phone again? Charlie asks, stepping closer and out of the light. He’s half a head taller than Eben, his dark brown hair similar to Eben’s but dusted with silver throughout. His gray eyes are steely. He’s wearing his Police Glare right now. It’s his most serious and intimidating glare, and Eben’s a little impressed he can whip it out on command like this. All these years he thought it was a genuine reaction to Eben’s tomfoolery.

Eben shrugs, maintaining an air of sheepishness.

Charlie drags him away, passing Phil an exasperated look that causes Phil to snort. If they happen to pass close enough to the crime scene for Eben to get a good look, no one notices. They’re all too distracted by the dead girl in the clearing.

It’s her.

She’s on her back, her hands and ankles bound in chains. Blood is soaked into the earth beneath her, an uneven ring of rusty red around her upper half. Her chest gapes open, blood and viscera spilling out onto her skin and shirt and the crushed leaves around her. Her dark hair is matted with it, her blue eyes dry and lifeless. There’s just nothing in the place where her heart should be, like something ripped her open and tore it out. The scent of her blood is sickly sweet and metallic, mixing with the soft aroma of burning wax. There are candles placed strategically around her body, to make the points of an upside-down star, and a metal wire on the ground in a perfect circle around her entire body. It might be the same material as the chains, but he can’t be sure without getting closer—which he’s not allowed to do.

It’s a cold comfort she’s not from Hollow Rock. At least Eben doesn’t have to see the dead body of someone he knew in life.

He slows as he takes it all in, holding one hand over his mouth and nose. Nausea pitches his stomach when he catches another whiff of the gore, another glimpse of the hole in the girl’s chest, and he curls in on himself, trying not to gag.

A sense of wrongness permeates the air. It’s thick like humidity after a storm, prickling along his skin and invading his lungs. Dark magic was used here. Very dark magic. He’s never felt anything like it before, but he recognizes it, instinctively, in the core of himself where his own magic resides.

Eben reaches for something to say as he turns bodily away from the scene. He doesn’t know what his face is doing, but his father’s face softens with sympathy. Where are all your cars?

Charlie points in the opposite direction Eben had come as he wraps an arm around Eben’s shoulders and gently guides him away from the scene. That way. Somebody leaving the hospital saw a girl being dragged into the woods by an unidentified male, so we started there.

Eben leans into his dad’s warm side and maps out their location in his mind. The hospital… That’s a lot farther from here than where I parked.

Where’d you park?

Over on the highway. It’s only about half a mile from here.

Huh. Guess we walked farther than I thought. Charlie does an about-face, pulling Eben with him. When they pass Phil again, he says, I’m taking Eben back to his car, it’s closer than mine. You’re in charge until I get back.

Sure thing, chief.

The voices of the officers fade away as Eben and Charlie disappear into the forest. His dad’s heavy duty flashlight does more to illuminate the forest than Eben’s puny phone, so he shoves it into his back pocket.

He smooths a soothing hand down Eben’s back. You okay, son?

He nods vacantly. I’m fine.

His dad’s eyes burn into his profile, but he resolutely stares ahead.

If you’re sure. So, what did the ghost say? Charlie asks.

She’s got a brother here in town somewhere.

Oh, good. She didn’t have ID on her. I’ll send somebody by the motel at first light and see if we can track him down. Not many places he could be staying.

Yeah, that’s another weird thing, Eben says. "We don’t get tourists. We don’t have anything worth seeing."

His dad chuckles. While I’m offended on behalf of our town, that’s probably true. I guess we’ll just have to see if we can track down the brother. Maybe he can tell us what brought them here. He pauses, hesitating, and then asks, Was magic used, or am I looking for your average, run-of-the-mill psycho?

Eben snorts humorlessly. "Magic. Definitely magic. Very, very dark magic. I couldn’t tell who or what the spell was for, but I definitely felt magic in the air."

Charlie blows out a breath. Yeah, I was kind of afraid of that. He pulls Eben to a stop, gray eyes meeting Eben’s whiskey brown. Though Eben’s told all the time how much he looks like his dad, he’s got his mother’s eyes. "I know you don’t like to use it, and I really wish I didn’t have to ask. But this is not like anything I’ve ever seen before. As much as I’d like to keep you away from anything dangerous, I really need to know more about this magic stuff."

Eben swallows hard. They don’t talk about his supernatural abilities much. Frankly, Eben likes to pretend they’re not there most of the time, and his dad seems content to go along with it. It’s a painful reminder of the thing they’ve both lost, and the more normal he can be, the better he feels. But if a girl’s been murdered, and his dad needs his help…

What else can he say? Of course I’ll help.

Chapter

Two

Eben goes back home, but he doesn’t sleep. He brings his laptop to the kitchen and brews a pot of coffee. There are a handful of legitimate websites he’s found over the years which are run by real mages like himself. He scours the message boards for anything related to dark rituals as dawn creeps across the sky outside the window, but nothing turns up. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He may not know much about magic or those who wield it, but he knows this type of sacrificial ritual is a big no-no. Harming another human being in general is a big no-no. If there were magic police, they would arrest someone for doing a spell like this.

His dad gets home around seven, when Eben would normally be getting ready for school. The front door opens and closes, and Eben straightens for the first time in hours, groaning as his spine pops. Charlie comes into view, one corner of his mouth quirking as he spies Eben at the table. His cargo khakis and navy polo are dirty, and there are bags under his eyes. He kicks his shoes off by the door and trudges into the kitchen.

Have you been awake this whole time? he asks, slumping into the chair across from Eben.

Yeah. I’ll get you some coffee.

Charlie musters a smile. Thanks, kid. Eben pours him a mug, black like they both prefer it. Find anything useful?

Eben shakes his head, sliding the mug over and sitting back down. "No. This isn’t the kind of thing an internet search can solve. I may have to order a couple of spellbooks from that General Nonsense place again, see if I can do a little old-school research."

His dad arches a brow. "That’s one of the legitimate businesses, right? I won’t be getting any strange charges to my credit card?"

"That was one time, Dad."

Once was enough.

Eben snickers, closing his laptop. Any luck on an ID yet?

No, not yet. Charlie hunches over his mug, cupping the warm ceramic with both hands and inhaling the steam. He studies Eben seriously for a beat. I’m really sorry you’ve had to get involved in this, son.

He shrugs. The ghost came to me, Dad. She sought me out. I would’ve been involved anyway. I’m probably the only other mage around besides the killer.

That’s exactly what worries me, Charlie says. You’re just a kid.

Magic kid.

Charlie inclines his head. Neither of them say it, but they both know his mom, Nat, would’ve gotten involved if she were here, too. She wouldn’t have been able to sit idly by while Charlie went up against some mysterious magical murderer. There are no other magic folk around—that Eben knows of—who can offer their assistance. Eben has to help.

So, are you going to get some rest, or are you going straight back to the office?

Charlie sighs. "I’m just here for a change of clothes, and then I’m headed back in. I’ll probably be living out of that office until we solve this case. This is the first murder Hollow Rock has seen since the forties. I just wanted to come by and see you off for your first day of school." He smiles cheerfully.

Eben rolls his eyes. Dad, it’s eleventh grade, not kindergarten.

I know, but you only get one more after this⁠—

Thank god.

—and I don’t want to miss them, his dad continues pointedly, ignoring Eben’s jibe.

Okay. Well, it’s almost time for me to go. He dumps the dregs from his mug in the sink and deposits it in the dishwasher.

All right. Try to focus on school, not the case, and you can come by the department later, if you want.

Yeah, I’ll do that. Have a good day, solve the case, wear your vest, and call for back-up! Eben crows as he shoulders his bag. It’s been a parting ritual since his mom died. Charlie’s the only parent he has left, and Eben wants him to be as safe as possible.

I will, kid. Have a good day at school.

Hollow Rock High School is a flat, brick building surrounded by sports fields and trees. The student parking lot is behind the building, half-filled with cars already when Eben arrives. The pale morning sunlight is broken intermittently by spectral, misty clouds. He’s a little early, and he doesn’t see his best friend Caleb’s old beater, so he sits in the warmth of the Cobalt and takes out his phone. General Nonsense is a magic shop somewhere in Seattle, one of the only legitimate sources for real mages to get ingredients on the west coast, as far as Eben knows. He discovered it when the name was mentioned on a hidden message board as a resource for mages.

The website for General Nonsense is sparse, no doubt to keep them flying under the radar, but he finds two books listed that might be helpful and purchases them. He doubts the books will have anything in them specifically about ritual murders, but if he can research more about the little details, it might shed some light on what the purpose of the ritual could’ve been. He doesn’t have a better place to start, so this is as good an idea as any.

Someone bangs on his window.

Eben shrieks, clutching his phone to his chest. Caleb’s cheerful brown face, laughing at him, is visible through the window. He kicks the door open, spilling out of the car with his backpack.

You are a total douche, Eben exclaims as they start across the parking lot toward the school. I was only half-awake. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. Only a small part of that was a lie. He’s proud of himself.

He’s often considered telling Caleb about his magic, but there never seemed to be a good time for it. Turns out, there isn’t really a good way of saying, ‘oh, by the way, I’m a mage!’ And at this point, it would also include confessing that he’s been hiding it from him for seven years.

You would’ve done it to me, Caleb replies dismissively, pushing back the corkscrew curls of his hair and smiling that goofy smile that makes his hazel eyes crinkle at the corners. He spent the summer growing his hair out, and now, with the sides tapered, his bouncy curls looked like a cross between an afro and a mohawk.

"But because you did it to me, that makes you the jerk in this scenario," Eben argues halfheartedly—mostly to keep the conversation flowing and keep his thoughts from ghosts and murdered girls in the woods.

Caleb doesn’t miss his strange mood. You look weird, everything okay?

News of the murder probably hasn’t traveled far from the department yet. He guesses they’ll run a news story in the local paper later today, but for now Hollow Rock is ignorant of the evil that took place last night in their sleepy little town. Dad got a call last night. I woke up and he was gone. He didn’t get back until this morning.

Oh? What happened?

He pulls Caleb to a stop, glancing around to make sure no one else is close enough to eavesdrop. Caleb’s dark brows draw together in concern. He follows Eben’s gaze, hiking his backpack up and inching closer so Eben can keep his voice low.

Someone was murdered.

Caleb’s face slackens with shock. What? Who? Someone we know?

He shakes his head quickly. No, she was an out-of-towner. But he told me it was… rough.

Jesus, Caleb murmurs, turning away to stare at a distant spot on the horizon. Any leads yet?

No, he admits grimly.

Caleb softens, dropping an arm around his shoulders for a lopsided hug. Charlie’ll be okay, Eben. He knows what he’s doing.

One corner of Eben’s mouth quirks. Caleb has always been able to read him eerily well. He’s never investigated a murder before. And they don’t know anything about whoever did this. And whoever did it has magic, he can’t say.

Caleb jostles him good-naturedly. I’m sure it’ll all work out, dude.

The police station is always a hub of bustling activity, and it’s more true than ever today. The murder