CJ Johnson, Writer      
                 Legend of the Druids
Website Content (c) 2007 CJ Johnson, Writer
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Legend of the Druids
Blood Moon
by CJ Johnson
Excerpt (c) 2007


                                                           * * * * *

         “There’s been another murder.”
         Simon’s grip on the phone threatened to crush the black plastic.  Knowing
this call would come didn’t make it any easier to hear.
         “Simon?  Did you hear what I said?”
         “Yes, Darius, I heard you.  Who?”
         “Charlene Diamond from San Francisco.  Alex called from the morgue.”
         Simon recalled the laughing young woman with flame-red hair.  She and
Alexander Diamond had been married less than a year.
         “Is Alex coming here after the funeral?”  Grief and fatigue combined to
thicken his voice.
         “No.  He’s going to the Arizona compound.  He has two brothers there and
he knows he’ll need their support during the coming year.”
         Simon nodded absently, his mind already focused on dealing with the Council
of Elders.
         “There’s more.”
         There was a note of desperation in Darius’ voice that jerked Simon’s full
attention back to the moment at hand.
         “What more could there be?  Another of our kind is doomed to death because
a maniacal butcher is killing out mates.”  Impotent fury sharpened his tone.
         “She was pregnant.”
         “Damn.”  All the fight went out of Simon.  A child.  One more chance at
survival gone.  This couldn’t continue.  There were less than two hundred of his
race left.
         “Thank you for calling, Darius.  I must summon the Council.  Call us as soon
as you know the funeral arrangements.  I’ll call Alex tomorrow to see if there’s
anything I or the Council can do to help.”
         Without waiting for an answer, Simon disconnected the call.  The soft glow of
the brazier hanging in the corner provided the only light in the small room but the
scent of lavender and sandalwood smoldering inside failed to calm his troubled
thoughts.  This was the third murder in six months.  So far, the authorities hadn’t
made the connection between the women but it was only a matter of time.  Steps
must be taken to protect the secrets of the Druids while they searched for the killer.
Knowing he couldn’t put off the meeting with the Council any longer, Simon
punched in the number for his aide.
        “Summon the Council of Elders.”
         He didn’t wait for the young man to respond.  His orders would be carried out
without question.  He had an hour to come to terms with this new development.  
One hour to decide how much to reveal to the others and how much to keep
secret.  There were so many secrets.
         His position as head of the Council of Elders entitled him to the tower suite;
but he would rather keep these smaller rooms where he’d grown up.  The suite
provided familiar comfort when the maelstrom of council intrigues tangled with
the web of half-truths and secrets he’d lived with since his brother’s disappearance
five years ago.  The hidden passage was an added bonus.
         This small monk’s cell at the base of the hidden staircase was his one refuge.  
Heavy gold drapes covered the stone walls to buffer the cold but the dirt floor was
left bare.  It was his connection to the earth.  A connection to the very source of his
power.  A worn, black leather chair, a small table with a brass candle holder and
the brazier used for burning herbs completed the furnishings.
         The oak panel that led from his suite of rooms to the chamber opened with
the silence of well oiled hinges.  Tossing the wireless phone on the nearest flat
surface, Simon headed for the bathroom.  A hot shower might not provide
answers to the multitude of questions doing battle in his mind, but it would
provide the illusion of calm control he desperately needed for the coming meeting.
         Standing beneath the pounding spray, he recalled the images of tonight’s
vision.  
         The smothering, grey fog swirled and danced through the night.  Impossible
to see through yet insubstantial and fleeting.  In the distance a dog barked once
then fell silent.  She sensed a presence behind her long before she heard the soft
footfall.  Clutching her coat closer, she walked a little faster.  Fear of what lurked in
the shadows urging her to run.
         Footsteps echoed in the suffocating fog, increasing at the same rate as hers.
         … don’t …
         … please …
         … Adrian …
         The name, whispered in the throes of a nightmare, sliced through Simon
sending him to his knees in the shower.  The shock of hearing it in his vision hadn’t
lessened.  None of his muttered assurances about paranoia or probability of
common names could ease the crushing ache of impending doom threatening to
destroy him.
         Adrian.  His adored older brother disappeared without a trace five years ago.  
Between sunset and sunrise, everything in his world changed.  Instead of
spending his life tracking the descendants of Ana he was the leader of his people.  
A people on the verge of extinction.  A people who had no faith in him or his
abilities.
         Now an unknown woman – and he was absolutely certain it was a woman –
somewhere in the world dreamed of death and whispered his brother’s name.  
Was she the killer?  Did she know the killer?  How did she know Adrian?
         The boy who remembered the brother he’d followed blindly into whatever
mischief boys could imagine refused to accept the implication that he was now
involved in this madness.  The man who sensed something wrong in what they
knew of the murders couldn’t ignore the possibility that his brother was destroying
them.
         Forcing the images and questions away, Simon focused on what he knew.  
Adrian was alive because his wife, Brianna, still lived.  Somewhere there was a
woman who dreamed of a killer in her nightmares.  That same woman reached
across time and space to connect to him and he would do whatever it took to find
her.  She was the key to catching the killer.  If this insanity led back to Adrian he’d
deal with that when it happened.
         Dressing with usual disregard of Council protocol, Simon pulled on well-worn
jeans and a black sweater.  All-in-all his appearance was just this side of
disreputable.  Opting for loafers instead of bare feet was the only concession to
proper attire he allowed himself.  The other members of the Council of Elders
expected him to be less than perfect – less than Adrian would be – so he gave
them what they expected.  With a silent apology to his mother for his deliberate
disregard of her lessons on etiquette and decorum, he extinguished the lights in
the room with a casual wave and headed to the Council Chamber.
         He managed to reach the chamber just minutes ahead of the others.  God,
how he hated this room.  It was every bit as pompous and overdone as the
members of the council.  Dark paneling, blood-red drapes and heavy, mahogany
furniture offered no hint of warmth or invitation.  Even the portraits of past Council
Leaders depressed him with their dark suits and frowns.  The arrival of the council
members ended his morbid dissection of the décor.
         To a man, they took one look at his jeans and started frowning.  He loved that
they were so predictable.  It was after three in the morning and all six men were
dressed in suits and ties.  Personally, he’d rather they go back to wearing the loose
robes of Merlin.
         “What is the emergency this time?”  Growled Arthur Washington, the oldest
man on the Council of Elders.  At eight hundred and twenty-two years he was
centuries older than the others.  Simon’s own age of one hundred and forty-seven
made him the youngest.  That alone guaranteed a certain amount of animosity.  
“Please be seated, gentlemen.”
         “If this is another of your …”
         “There’s been another murder.”  Simon was in ho mood to pacify the egos of
the most powerful Druids alive.  “Alexander Diamond’s wife and unborn child
were found in their home just after midnight.”
         “Simon!  This cannot continue!  A child?  Where was Alexander while his
family was being slaughtered?  Surely he knew of the directive to protect them at
all costs.”
         Leave it to Arthur to point the first finger of guilt.  “He was on duty at the
hospital.  This isn’t the Dark Ages, Arthur.  Most of the men have productive jobs in
the mortal world.  We’re trying to blend into society and use our powers to help
mankind.”  Raking a hand through his hair, he struggled to remain calm.
         “Then we have no choice but to order all of the families to the compounds.  
The protective spells will …”
         “Don’t you think Alex had his home protected?”  Simon was rapidly losing
control and he was past the point of caring.  “When are you going to wake up and
realize the killer is one of us?”
         “That’s impossible.”  Arthur looked to the others to bolster his proclamation.
         “Why is it impossible?  We’re subject to the same vices as mortals.  Our
history is filled with Druids who abuse their power.  We lie, cheat, steal just like any
other human.  Who else would know that to kill one mate is to kill the other?  Who
else would know how to disarm most protective spells?  We all learned the same
magick from the same teachers.  There were no signs of forced entry at the first
two crime scenes and I’ll bet you there won’t be any this time.  Think about it,
Arthur.  Who would Beatrice open your door to without thinking about possible
danger?”
         Simon let the eruption of rising arguments flow over him, refusing to take the
bait and join in the disagreement.  The subtle headache that started with the strain
of trying to maintain a shared vision was now a full blown sledge hammer beating
at his temples.
         “Enough!”  He roared, bringing instant silence to the room.  “All of the
arguments in the won’t help us find a solution.”
         “There’s only one solution at this point, Simon.  The women must be
protected.  I agree with Arthur.  The families should be brought back to the
compounds were there are stronger methods of protection at our disposal.         
Perhaps our combined abilities will be enough to protect them.  As it is, the
families are spread too far from the areas where our magick is strongest.”
One-by-one, the remaining members of the Council agreed with Arthur.
         “Very well,” Simon relented, “we’ll call them home; but I ask for a week
before we issue the orders.”
         When the barrage of questions began, he held up his hand for silence.  As the
older men quieted, he summoned enough of the truth to support his request.
         “Earlier tonight I had a vision.  I was sharing the dream of a women – a
stranger.  She watched Charlene’s murder through the eyes of the killer in her
dream.  I don’t know how she managed to project her nightmare to me and it didn’
t last long enough for me to get a lock on her.  The moon will be full in two days
and I want to attempt to track her when my powers are strongest.”
         “Assuming your powers are strong enough to attempt such an act in the first
place.”  Arthur sneered.
         “I’m strong enough to receive her dream.  I should be strong enough to
reverse the process on the night of the full moon.”
         Simon held his breath waiting for their decision.  His was the deciding vote on
most issues, but he was totally out-voted here.  If they insisted he issue the order
to return to the compounds tonight, he would have no choice.  He would still try to
find the stranger in the vision on his own, but if he could get the Council’s approval
there would be fewer questions asked that he didn’t want to answer.
         With a slow nod from the others in the room, Arthur stood and faced Simon.
         “Very well.  You have seven days.  Unless there is another attack before then.  
When you fail at this game you’re playing, boy, maybe you’ll finally realize  you
aren’t qualified for the position you hold.  We will expect you to step down and
allow someone stronger to rule the Council of Elders.”
         Simon refused to answer the ultimatum.  They couldn’t force him to resign
but he didn’t relish spending the rest of his life in a battle of wills with these men.  
He would take his week and pretend gratitude for the time.  He would grovel if he
had to – as long as no one suspected the true strength of his magic.  It was his one
edge and the biggest gamble of his life.


(Excerpt unedited and may differ from published version.)
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Paranormal
Legend of the Druids
Blood Moon
Chapter One