Moon Island

 

The storm seemed to be growing stronger.

Wind shrieked. Trees bent. Rain rattled leaves everywhere. As we trekked north, I couldn't help but think that Kingsley and Allison might be onto something. I was technically a carrier of one of the medallions, and my son...well, my son had consumed another medallion in a sort of potion concocted by one Archibald Maximus, who, as it turned out, was also quite the alchemist.

The medallion is in my son, too, I realized. In his blood, perhaps.

But what did the entity intend to do with my son? Was he going to drink from my boy? I shuddered and nearly worked myself into a panic. Jesus, and what did he intend to do with me? The medallion, as far as I was aware, was now eternally a part of me.

There were four such medallions, and if one of them was indeed hidden on the island, that would be three. The whereabouts  of the fourth were unknown to me...and yet, even as I thought about that, the fleeting hint of a memory came to me. And then left just as quickly.

Good God, did I actually know where the fourth medallion was?

I didn't know, but I figured it was best to approach this one medallion at a time.

More importantly: what did the bastard want with all four medallions?

Allison, who'd been casting me sidelong glances in between cautiously stepping over exposed tree roots, also had been following my train of thought. Her words came clearly to me now as we stepped into an open area of the forest: He mentioned releasing his sister, Sam.

A sister who was presently trapped within me. A blessing and a curse, surely.

A blessing because her dark power fueled my now-dead body, and, in turn, gave me superhuman abilities. A curse because I was now being used by her. I was, in effect, serving as her host.

I shuddered.

But how could the medallions help his sister break free? I asked.

Lordy, Sam, how would I know?

Heck, just a few days ago I was a hair stylist/personal trainer/photographer/actor in Los Angeles.

That's a lot of slashes, I thought.

It's called "multiple streams of income." Oh, and you can add another slash.

Oh, yeah?

Private investigator assistant.

We'll see, I thought. So, what good does it do us to find the medallion first?

I don't know, Sam, but it might give us some leverage. In the least, it could thwart his nefarious plan.

I almost laughed at her word choice.

Truth was, any plan that involved harming my son was nefarious. As we continued on, I wondered again how the medallions could be of use to the entity. After all, weren't the golden discs inherently good? They were, after all, created to counteract the effects of vampirism.

Unless, Allison said telepathically, all four medallions come together. Perhaps then they can be used for evil. After all, a gun can be used to either defend or to murder.

I looked at her. "That was shockingly erudite," I said.

"I have my moments," she beamed.

"What're you two talking about?"

asked Kingsley, pausing and looking back.

His long hair flung water everywhere, not that it mattered. We were in the open again and rain was literally driving directly into our faces.

"Girl talk," I said sweetly.

"Fine," he said irritably. "Looks like we're here."

Indeed, I could now hear the pounding of the surf, of water exploding against rocks. The hiss of retreating foam. We were at the north end of the island, near what appeared to be a straight drop down into the ocean below. Yes, the ocean was angry. The rain was angry.

Hell, even I was a little angry.

No, I was a lot angry.

"Okay," I said, "let's find this goddamned medallion."