Moonlight (Grim Gate 3)

My exhaustion wins, and Ethan and I go upstairs and get into the shower before collapsing into bed. We both fall asleep quickly, but I’m awoken not long after to Ethan’s phone vibrating on the dresser, which is closer to my side of the bed.

“Ethan?” I whisper, but he doesn’t stir. He was an incredibly light sleeper when we first met. It’s a hunter-thing, he explained, never being able to fully relax. He definitely relaxes now, and I take his ability to fall into a deep sleep and let his guard down as the biggest compliment.

We both feel safe in this house. And being together gives us both the best sense of security.

I lay back down but hear the phone vibrate again. Thinking something bad could have happened to his father or his sisters, I lazily get up, stepping over Hunter who’s sleeping on my discarded clothes next to the bed, and grab Ethan’s phone.

I was right. It is a text from his dad, and I tap the phone to read the text.

David: Another hunter has gone missing. Be careful.

Chapter

Six

Biting my lip, I look from the phone to Ethan. Should I wake him up? I don’t see what that would necessarily do. We’re not going out looking for missing hunters now.

Letting out a breath, I carefully reach across Ethan and put the phone on his nightstand before laying back down next to him, my mind going back to what he said about hunters not being the most trusting of witches. In his sleep, he rolls over and drapes his arm around me, pulling me close and making me feel guilty for doubting him.

There’s obviously some sort of tension between hunters and witches, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one-sided. Why would witches have anything against hunters? I try to push the thoughts from my mind but stew over them until I finally fall back asleep, and then have a nightmare that I’m found guilty of witchcraft, Salem-style. I wake up to Hunter squeezing into bed next to me, and I pull back the blankets to let him snuggle up with us. My familiar brings me instant comfort, and I’m able to drift back to sleep quickly, not waking until my alarm goes off in the morning.

After hitting snooze for the third time, I finally drag myself out of bed. Ethan is still sound asleep under the warm blankets next to me, and after glaring at him for a few seconds, I force myself up. I love having my horses at my house, but I’ll admit, I missed the days of boarding and not having to wake up early every single day. Though as a vet tech, I had early hours at least four days a week anyway.

It’s odd now, not having a job and living off an inheritance. I haven’t quite gotten used to the fact that I have a lot of money in the bank, and I’m still pretty damn frugal after years of living almost paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes I would skip a week of grocery shopping just so I could pay for Mystery’s board.

Pulling on sweatpants and a thick sweater, I brush my hair with my fingers as I trudge down the stairs.

“Why couldn’t you have left me a house in Florida?” I mumble out loud, thinking about Aunt Estelle as I shove my feet into winter boots and put on my winter coat. It’ll be cold like this most of March, and then we’ll have the occasional nice day or two before temps drop again. Finally, by mid-May, we should be able to have temps at least in the sixties—if we’re lucky.

My bad mood fades as soon as everyone greets me, and I spend time petting Ross and Rachel—my rescue donkeys—while they eat. Then I let everyone out in the pasture, clean stalls, and hurry back inside for coffee. Hunter, who stayed inside instead of going out in the cold with me, lets me know something came through the fireplace as soon as I’m back in.

Kicking off my boots as quickly as I can, I hurry into the library to find a few pieces of paper inside a brown folder. There’s a Post-It note on top.

Anora-

I found these in the archives and thought you’d appreciate it.

-Ruby

A small gasp escapes my lips when I open the folder and see a photograph of Aunt Estelle. She’s wearing a Grim Gate uniform and is standing near a large fireplace with what has to be the other professors of the Academy. Tabatha Greystone—the High Priestess—is standing two people down from her, and the white fox is sitting at her feet. The next photo is more candid. It’s black and white and was taken while Aunt Estelle taught a class. There are a dozen or so students seated around a large table, with what looks like tarot cards in front of them. There’s only one more photo and it catches me off guard.