Moonlight War- Act II (The Realmers Book 3) Read online

  Moonlight War

  Act II

  The Realmers Book Two

  Copyright 2017 by William Collins. All Rights Reserved.

  Terms and Conditions:

  The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Other books in ‘The Realmers Series’

  A Darker Shade of Sorcery The Realmers Book One

  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01A3L1PS6

  Moonlight War-Act I The Realmers Book Two

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HLGKL9U

  The Realmer Chronicles-

  Choo Choo Your Food

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01D7FY48S

  Upcoming-

  Angels and Elves- The Realmers Book Three

  Venator Terms

  Veneseron is one of the realms closest to Earth. But it is still another world, with its own unique words. Here are some examples:

  Venator

  Venators are the magic-wielding demon hunters who travel between worlds on a variety of missions. They are also known to be called ‘Realmers’ colloquially.

  Novice, Apprentice, Mid-Realmer, High-Realmer and Arch-Realmer

  The five training ranks Venators go through whilst learning weaponry and the magical arts.

  Rueda

  A famous Venator from millennia ago who has become similar to a deity now.

  Rakarn

  Also referred to as Dark-Venators.

  Rakarn is the demonic word for children, named by Queen Akirandon, who created and trained them at Velkarath in parody of Veneseron and its Venators. Velkarath aim to recruit young magic-users and turn them into Dark-Venators before Veneseron can.

  The Masters

  The magical instructors who train the Venators are referred to as the Masters.

  The Moonlight Races

  A collective term that applies to all vampires, werewolves, shifters and other former humans who have been infected by various supernatural strains. The name was coined as these creatures’ powers are stronger at night.

  Dread Lord

  Far more powerful than a demon minion or brute, the Dread Lords are demons with immense power and human intelligence. They often have hordes of monsters to serve them.

  Demon Disciple

  The demon god long ago blessed his most loyal Dread Lords and made them almost as powerful as himself, dubbing them his Disciples. The god has since been destroyed, yet his Disciples remain, scattered across the realms, planning and plotting.

  Act I Overview-

  As Moonlight War grew so long, it was split into two acts.

  In case you need a reminder, Moonlight War-Act I ended with both Evan and Brooke setting out on their first missions as Venators.

  Evan has only just begun his mission, whereas Brooke is halfway through hers. Her job was to slay a rabid werewolf in London, before he ignited a war between the city’s vampires and the werewolf pack. At the end of the novel, however, Brooke discovered that Dark-Venators were behind the rabid wolf’s insanity. The Rakarn looked to cause the war and frame the Venators for it. In Act I’s last chapter, Brooke and Arantay battled the Dark-Venators. They were outnumbered and almost killed, until London’s vampire coven intervened.

  Meanwhile, whilst trying to discover just who has been kidnapping Venators from Veneseron, Jed, Joelle and Elijah found themselves trapped inside an enchanted painting.

  Moonlight War-Act II continues directly from where Act I finished. Act I and Act II together make up Book Two in the Realmers Series.

  Part Four

  Vampires vs Werewolves

  “I’d rather be a shrunken goblin grandmother riddled with pixie pox, than be a werewolf. I love moonlit strolls.” –Said by Loren Nallador Yaheri, speaking at a werewolf peace rally in 1991.

  Chapter 27- A Coven of Vampires

  Brooke stumbled through London’s dark streets, the vampire in front of her, the Elfpire beside her.

  Malian’s tread was so soft, it was as if his feet barely touched the ground. He was silent as the grave and appeared a phantom raised from one. His skin was a luminous white, but his suit was black. Malian could’ve been a ghost from Victorian London, cursed to walk its streets for eternity. His very pallor lit the way for Brooke, like a phosphorescent beacon.

  They’d stopped running from the werewolves moments ago. Arantay had set her down, nearly keeling over himself. She felt as exhausted as he looked and they leaned against each other for support. Brooke was almost too tired to ignore being so close to him as their bodies pressed together.

  She reckoned they’d run for miles before stopping at Oxford Circus, which was still moderately busy, despite the late hour. Arantay had decided if the wolves had followed them this far, at least they wouldn’t attack in front of so many civilians. Brooke wasn’t so confident. She kept looking over her shoulder for signs of the hairy beasts, just in case.

  Malian’s fellow vampires had sped on ahead to their headquarters, whilst Malian stayed back to guide the way.

  There were many similarities between Arantay and the vampire, but differences too. Malian was more noble and distinguished looking, his face carved from the finest ivory. Malian’s regal grace was a sharp contrast to Tay’s animalistic one. His pupil’s weren’t vertically slit but dilated, and the iris’s a far more vivid red. Arantay’s elven qualities were more noticeable compared to the full vampire. Brooke felt an unease around Malian that she never felt around Tay.

  The baying of the wolves had long since died out. Arantay and Malian had run inhumanly fast through the city. Tay was so weakened, he could barely keep up. Then they’d scaled buildings like pale shadows, Brooke clinging to Tay’s back and looking behind her, expecting to see the lycans loping after them.

  Malian had only looked at her once. His ageless eyes had shown nothing, no lust, no hatred, no superiority, just complete detachment.

  Once they’d left Oxford circus and travelled through quieter streets, the immortals slowed to a normal pace.

  Arantay appeared unconcerned to where Malian led them, but Brooke couldn’t help thinking they might be walking into a trap.

  Finally, Malian halted. In front of them loomed an old abandoned church. It held a decrepit air and an odd coldness emanated from it, a chill that touched Brooke’s cheeks with palpable breath.

  “We thought it an appropriate place for our coven, since we are apparently frightened of holy water.” Malian smiled, exposing porcelain fangs.

  Her heart thumped as Malian led them forward. Who’s to say these vampires aren’t worse than a demented werewolf? The thoughts kept creeping in.

  The rusty iron gate whined when Malian pushed it forward. They walked between the gravestones, which formed a grim obstacle course to the church’s entrance.

  When she reached the arched doorway, Brooke saw a female vampire clinging to the topmost spire of the church, like a giant pale spider. She hurried inside.

  The interior was softly lit by several torches, yet the flames couldn’t ward off the unnatural chill that permeated the air. The typical pews were not here. It didn’t look like a church at all, but an elaborately furnished house. Velvet divans and chairs littered the main room, whilst marvellous murals and astonishing works of art embellished the walls. The far side of the church was one magnificent window, the coloured glass depicting angels and saints. But the large end table in the centre of the hall held Brooke’s a
ttention, and the supernatural occupants dining there.

  She gasped when she saw the vampires, like a house of ghosts illuminating the old church. Faces of extraordinary beauty stared back at her, mocking in their supreme glory. Their crimson eyes shone with dark amusement, or else arrogance, or worse, hunger.

  Glistening scarlet smiles flashed and gentle laughter erupted at their approach. A dozen damned denizens filled the hall, and all of them sat serenely, drinking from wine glasses. Their beauty and supremacy was overpowering. Brooke found it hard to meet their eyes.

  The vampire at the head of the table had the blondest hair she’d ever seen, falling across his slim chest like the finest silk. The hair framed a curious face, long nosed with a thin, cruel mouth. Yet it was still a face the finest artist would be proud to paint. It was this vampire who spoke first, silencing the murmurs of his companions.

  “Ah, Malian, you’ve brought a morsel for us to dine upon.” His eyes shone with sick humour as he appraised Brooke.

  Silvery chuckles tinkled from the other vampires.

  “And you have brought the anomaly with you, how…mysterious he is,” a female beside him added. Her hair was the same shade of platinum as the male moroi, her mouth just as cruel. Brooke suspected they were siblings.

  “Yes, dear Nalia, he could be one of a kind.” The male moroi spoke as if Arantay wasn’t there. “But I’m afraid that my eyes wander more to the Venator. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to taste magical blood.” He licked gleaming lips.

  “Cazantian only plays,” Malian said, his voice tinged with irritation. “None of this coven will harm you, on my word.”

  “Just a taste?” Cazantian rasped, his fangs catching the light.

  Brooke met Cazantian’s eyes at last and stopped herself from flinching. She wouldn’t show him any weakness.

  Arantay took a step forward, his expression cold. “Enough games. Where’s Hallia?” he demanded.

  “Hush, half-blood.” Cazantian raised a hand for quiet. “We do not speak in raised voices here. It’s a holy place, don’t you know?” His thin lips hooked at the edges.

  Cazantian reached underneath the table and procured a small cage. He set it down, before opening the door and snatching out a large rat. He casually snapped the rodent’s neck and slid the fresh carcass across the table towards Arantay. “My gift to you, hybrid. You have not fed since you arrived in this city, I can tell.”

  Arantay looked disgusted with himself as much as he did Cazantian.

  “Brother, we have a human present, let’s not act like animals.” Nalia took the rat and sliced its neck with red-lacquered fingernail, then squeezed the blood out of the corpse and into a glass, which she offered to Arantay.

  A seductive smile splashed across Nalia’s face when she handed him the cup. Her hand lingered on Tay’s, until he pulled it away.

  “Your touch is almost warm compared to ours,” she said breathlessly. “I would very much like to…study you further, Elfpire.”

  “And I would very much like to drink from you. I’ve never sampled elf blood. Though I suspect your fluid is too tainted for our lips, we cannot drink from one another,” Cazantian finished ruefully.

  Arantay ignored them both. He appeared to be consumed by melancholy as he stared deep into his glass. Tay tipped back his head and drained the glass in one gulp, clearly wanting it over as quickly as possible. Brooke knew he’d need the drink to help his body heal from all it had been through tonight, but she wished it didn’t torture Arantay to do it.

  “Ah, the Elfpire does not like to savour his blood,” Cazantian said. “He is one of them, who whine and whine about their gift for eternity. It would be so much better for them if they just let their vampiric take over, embraced what they really are.”

  “I see no need in revelling in what I have to do to survive.” Arantay grimaced, placing the glass back on the table.

  “Yet you cannot deny your own cravings for the blood,” Cazantian countered. “Why, if I were you I would have long ago tasted the sweet nectar of the piece behind you.”

  A low growl began at the back of Arantay’s throat, but Brooke stepped in front of him.

  “You know, I’ve never slain a vampire,” she told Cazantian. “But talk about me like that again, and I just might start.”

  “Apologize Cazantian,” said Malian.

  The other vampires whispered with one another across the table and Nalia giggled.

  Cazantian’s eyes challenged Malian’s own for a moment, before flicking back to Brooke with a generous smile.

  “My sincere apologies, human. As Malian said, no harm shall befall you here.” He inclined his head.

  “She has a name.” Arantay’s tone was stiff.

  Brooke realised this was where she should introduce herself. “Er- it’s Brooke, Brooke Carn.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Brooke.” Before she could move an inch, Cazantian flitted around the table and took her hand. His touch was so cold, it was painful. Not like the cold, but pleasantly tingling touch of Arantay. Cazantian’s lips were even icier as he kissed her hand.

  Stunned, she said nothing as he rose to full height. Their eyes met and she felt an irresistible tug, like a magnetic pull towards him.

  “Cazantian,” Malian hissed.

  Cazantian let go of her hand and smirked, striding silently as he took a seat back at the table.

  “She is quite beautiful Malian, though perhaps not worth sacrificing two of our coven over.” Cazantian’s smirk turned malignant. “The vampires returned here minutes before you, and told us of the casualties.”

  Several vampires around the table echoed Cazantian’s sentiment, glaring at her and Arantay, as if it was their fault the vampires had been killed by Dark-Venators.

  “’Tis no matter.” Nalia spoke above the others. “The two slain were underlings, and Malian was only acting on Hallia’s orders.”

  “Blasphemy,” an older gentleman roared. He jabbed a finger at her and Tay. “We never interfere with Venator business. The night we do, this happens. Blood demands blood. All we know is that magic slew our brethren. Magic these trespassers possess.”

  “Quiet, Terence,” Malian replied. His voice was soft, yet there was a subtle edge to it.

  Terence faltered. “Hallia will not-”

  “Hallia knows the risks,” Malian spoke over him. “And she knows the casualties to our coven will be far greater if we do not act now. An alliance between the werewolves and these Rakarn will be the end of us. All of you may enact vengeance for those slain tonight when we meet the Rakarn in battle.”

  Terence’s murderous scowl was mirrored by the moroi around him.

  “Fine speech.” Cazantian raised his glass. “Now, Brooke was it? How about we-”

  “We came because Hallia requested us.” Arantay interrupted. “Not to chat.”

  “Yes.” Malian cocked his head, listening to something Brooke couldn’t hear. “Hallia will see you now, follow me.”

  “Goodbye, Elfpire.” Nalia flashed another alluring smile Arantay’s way.

  “Careful, sweet.” Cazantian called after them, his eyes burning as he looked at Brooke. “A moonlight war is coming.”

  Chapter 28- City of the Gnomes

  Evan’s body flew, speeding through space and the fabric between realms. After several moments of swirling amidst multicoloured flashing lights, his feet planted firmly back on the ground.

  Emillia landed beside him, staggering to the side until he grabbed her arm to steady her.

  The pavement beneath him was bright green stone trimmed with gold. They were in a narrow alley, squashed between two buildings. Sintian and Bane had already moved to the end of the alley, muttering to each other darkly.

  Seconds later, the portal from Veneseron dissipated behind them.

  “You okay?” he asked Emi.

  “Yeah, that was my first time travelling by portal, other than when I was rescued from Sarume, but I barely remember that. Port
alling’s not that bad, quite fun really.”

  Evan chuckled. “It’s a bit like a roller coaster, I guess.”

  He felt surreal, he was actually doing it, his very first mission.

  “I can’t wait to…hey,” Emillia stopped mid-sentence. “Where’d they go?”

  He followed her gaze and saw that Sintian and Bane had vanished. His stomach plummeted at the thought of being lost here. Bane had the Rambrace they’d need to get back to Veneseron.

  “Quick, we can’t lose them.”

  They hurried to the end of the alleyway, which opened up to the city square. Evan never thought he’d be relieved to see Bane and Sintian just up ahead, easily distinguishable by their expensive cloaks.

  “Hurry up, amateurs.” Bane glared at them over his shoulder. He and Sintian towered above the civilians around them, possibly because the civilians were all three foot tall gnomes.

  Evan and Emi hurried to catch up to the older Realmers. Evan marvelled at the glory of Gno-arin as they went.

  Immense buildings of green stone chased with gold, rose up like titans. Evan was astounded by the sheer size of the buildings, considering the gnomes were so small. All the buildings were circular, with green roofs in the shape of shells, and the peaks of every building were crowned with golden statues of heroic gnomes from history.

  The sky was not only brimming with clouds, but full of Ornithopter’s, driven by the gnomes. Evan vaguely remembered learning in his old school that Ornithopter’s were the flying inventions created by Leonardo DaVinci. He didn’t know how they had come to this far-off realm. Whilst the sky had flocks of gnomes flying to their destinations, the streets teemed with gnomes driving metallic vehicles that looked like go-carts carved out of bronze. The gnomes must’ve been unfathomably rich. He even spotted rubies engraved at intervals on the pavement.