Moon Rise
Lycanthropic
Book 4
Steve Morris
This novel is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, places, names or events is purely coincidental.
Steve Morris asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Published by Landmark Media, a division of Landmark Internet Ltd.
Copyright © 2019 by Steve Morris.
All rights reserved.
stevemorrisbooks.com
Acknowledgements: Huge thanks are due to Margarita Morris, James Pailly and Josie Morris for their valuable comments and help in proof-reading this book.
Table of contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter One
Beneath London, waning moon
Leanna Lloyd awoke with a jump, startled from sleep by a slithering mass that covered her face, chest and arms. Fast and furry, it dragged itself across her skin in the pitch blackness, making her heart rate spike higher in wordless terror. She gasped and almost swallowed a long, twitching tail, making her gag. Hundreds of tiny feet pattered over her naked body. Sharp teeth grazed her skin. Opening her eyes wide, she glimpsed a dozen beady eyes, glinting back at her in the darkness.
She shrieked and leapt to her feet, brushing the rats away from her, dragging them from her hair, which they clung to relentlessly, and kicking her legs violently to shake them off. They fell away in a black furry horde, scurrying away down the low tunnel, scampering through the shallow water, leaping over each other in their rush to escape.
She stood breathless, her heart galloping in her tight chest, fighting the urge to scream. Slowly, she brought her body back under control, remaining calm even as another wave of rats surged through the sewer, rushing over her bare feet like flooding water.
On the opposite side of the curved tunnel, Mr Canning sat lazily, his knees pulled up so that she couldn’t glimpse his nakedness. He was chewing on a rat, teasing slivers of flesh from its fat little body, dripping blood from his mouth, studying her insolently. ‘They’re really quite tasty, my dear, once you get used to them. Rather like chicken, perhaps, although richer in flavour, more piquant.’ He scooped up a running rat, bit off its head and offered it to her. ‘Go on, try one. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.’
She stepped away from him with distaste and drew her arms around herself protectively, trying to cover her nudity. Neither she nor he wore a single item of clothing. ‘Have you been sitting there all this time, looking at me?’ She could hardly keep the disgust from her voice.
He ignored her question and began to devour the second rat, pulling at its coarse fur with his teeth, spitting out bones, tearing off its tail with his dirty fingers.
She and Canning had dived into the sewer system just as the first of the nuclear warheads had exploded over London the previous evening. They had entered the sewers together in wolf form, escaping from the devastation with seconds to spare. Now they were trapped beneath ground. The moon had set, and they had returned to human form.
What had she done to deserve such a grotesque companion? She gazed in revulsion at Canning’s gross body. He was not a young man, and not even good for his age. His distended belly spilled over his hairy crotch, and his skin was wrinkled and age-mottled. His grey, dishevelled hair was plastered across his high forehead, revealing the black eye patch that he wore at all times, even when in wolf form.
He continued to stare back at her as he chewed at his meal, letting small bones slither down his bearded chin and over his chest. When he had finally finished he tossed the remains of the second rat aside and rinsed his fingers in the filthy water that ran down the drain in the middle of the tunnel. ‘It hardly seems worth keeping up appearances now, does it?’ he asked.
She could feel his eyes crawling over her body. It felt just like the rats scurrying over her skin. She needed to find some clothes from somewhere. But where? She glanced up at the metal ladder that led back up to street level. It was the way they had descended into the sewer, but they could not go back that way. When the warheads had exploded, the blast had surely shaken every last building to its foundations. The city that had stood for centuries above their heads must now be reduced to rubble and ghosts. She couldn’t begin to imagine the extent of the destruction.
Canning guessed her thoughts. ‘We must go on, my dear. Ever onwards, never back.’
Leanna looked up and down the dark tunnel. She had lost all sense of direction since going underground. ‘Do you know the way?’
‘I know many ways, said Canning slyly. ‘Where would you like to go?’
‘We must find the quickest route out of London.’
He gestured in the direction that the rats had gone. ‘Our furry friends appear to be leaving the city too. I suggest we follow them. After you, my dear.’
‘
No. You go first.’
‘Why? Don’t you trust me?’ asked Canning, his eyes glinting mischievously.
‘Of course not!’
If she had learned one lesson this last night, it was to trust no one. The list of those who had betrayed her was long, and growing ever longer. There was James Beaumont, the boy werewolf who had turned against his own kind to save the lives of human children. James’ friends, Melanie and Ben, who had fought alongside him, and thwarted her attempt at vengeance. Doctor Helen Eastgate, who had burned Leanna’s face with acid. Vixen, leader of the Wolf Sisters, who had turned Warg Daddy’s head and led him astray. Not forgetting Warg Daddy himself, the greatest traitor of all. But he was dead now, and one day soon the others would be too.
She hoped she would not have to add Mr Canning to her list of traitors.
Canning laughed scornfully. ‘So you do not trust me, even though I saved your life just a few short hours ago. You do not show much gratitude, my dear. But what makes you think that I trust you?’
‘You have no choice,’ she sneered.
‘Do I not?’ He pondered his own question for a moment. ‘You may be right there. We have no choice but to trust each other now, else how shall we be able to sleep at night? Our journey out of London will not be quick or easy. We must reconcile our differences and work together, if we are to make it out alive.’
She considered his words. The idea of spending days trapped in this dismal sewer with only him and the rats for company was repellent. Yet how else was she to escape the city? He was right in one regard – she needed him to guide her out of London. ‘You know your way around these sewers?’ she asked.
‘Very well.’
‘And you are confident they will lead us to safety?’
‘I cannot guarantee it. But they are our only hope.’
A sudden noise made them both prick up their ears. A far-off splashing sound, echoing in the tunnel.
‘Is that more rats?’ she asked.
‘Ssh!’ He held up his hand for silence.
Leanna bristled. He had no right to give her commands. She would have to educate him on that matter very soon. But she did as he said, falling silent, listening closely as the sounds grew louder.
A light flickered some way off down the passageway. Two lights. The splashing sound steadily resolved itself into two pairs of feet, sloshing along the sewer. Soon, two figures came into view.
The beams from their lights fell on Leanna and Canning, picking out their pale forms. The newcomers stopped in their tracks.
‘Oh, thank God,’ came a woman’s voice, echoing off the hard brick surfaces of the tunnel. ‘There’s someone else alive down here.’ She started toward them again, her feet moving faster than before. ‘Helloo! Are you all right, there? Do you need help?’
The splashing noises came to an abrupt halt again.
A man spoke this time. ‘Look at them, Sandy. They aren’t wearing any clothes. How can they survive in this cold with no clothes on?’
‘I don’t know, Stu. Let’s go and help the poor things.’
Leanna waited until the flashlight beams came right up to them. They shone in her eyes briefly, then dropped away.
‘Don’t shine your light on them like that, Stu. Show the poor things some respect.’ The woman, Sandy, came right up to Leanna. ‘You poor, wretched thing. You don’t even have any shoes. You must be frozen. Let me give you some of my spare clothes. Is there anything else you need? Food? Water? Are you hungry?’
Leanna spoke coldly in reply. ‘I do not need your food and I do not need your pity.’
The woman pulled away in surprise before recovering her poise. ‘It’s okay. I understand. You’ve had a terrible shock. We all have. But we’re here for you now. We can help you and your friend. We can all help each other. Isn’t that right?’
‘No,’ said Leanna. ‘We do not need your help. We need only your clothes, your possessions, and the flesh off your bones.’
‘Wh … what?’
The man, Stu, was speaking again. ‘Get away from her, Sandy. Keep your distance. The girl’s some kind of psycho.’
Leanna shot out a hand and grabbed the woman’s wrist before she could draw away. She gave a squeal of pain as Leanna tightened her grip.
‘I am no psycho,’ hissed Leanna. ‘I am a queen. Queen of the werewolves. My plans have suffered a setback, but now my star is rising once again. You will help me by giving me everything you own. And then I shall take your body for my feast.’
Chapter Two
Gatwick Airport, West Sussex, waning moon
When Police Constable Liz Bailey arrived at Gatwick Airport, once the UK’s second busiest airport, and now officially redesignated as the southern evacuation camp, dawn was already breaking, and the low sunlight stabbed painfully at her eyes. She pulled her dark glasses on to shield the early rays of the day.
They had driven through the night to get here after leaving the smoking remains of London behind. Her father, Kevin, who had been a long-distance truck driver, had taken the wheel of the police patrol car, and Liz was grateful to him for that. Transforming into a vampire last night beneath the cold light of the full moon had left her completely drained.
It wasn’t just tiredness that threatened to overwhelm her. She had battled against a pack of werewolves to save her family, yet even her most valiant efforts had failed to protect her police partner, Dean, from being killed in the melee. His loss had been too sudden and too recent for her to begin to process, and she had pushed all thoughts of him from her mind during the journey, seeking solace in silence.
None of her fellow passengers had said much since witnessing the nuclear explosions that had engulfed their homes, turning London into a heap of rubble and ash. What use were words amid such unfathomable destruction?
Mihai, the ten-year-old Romanian boy who Liz had adopted, had slept for much of the journey. He stirred from sleep now, and offered her a tentative grin, his dark nut-brown eyes peeping brightly at her from beneath his unruly head of chestnut hair. She returned his smile gratefully, relieved that he was safe, and thankful that he seemed at last to have accepted her vampiric nature. It probably helped that she had saved him from being eaten by werewolves last night.
Also in the car were Samantha, Dean’s heavily pregnant widow, and her two-year-old daughter, Lily. While Lily had slept soundly, curled up with her head in her mother’s lap, Samantha had spent the night awake, staring dully at nothing, no doubt trying somehow to make sense of her husband’s sudden and violent death. Liz could barely imagine how she must feel.
She herself felt guilt every time she caught Samantha’s gaze. She had made a promise to Dean to keep Samantha and Lily safe. She had fulfilled that promise, and yet she had been unable to keep Dean himself from harm. He had died a horrible death, the victim of a werewolf attack.
Kevin brought the car to a halt, joining a line of cars waiting at the airport entrance. Soldiers wearing maroon berets manned a checkpoint at the gate, slowly processing the queuing vehicles before allowing them through and into the safety of the emergency camp beyond. The procedure was slow and Kevin shut off his engine while they waited.
Directly in front of the police car, the armoured hulk of the Foxhound, the military vehicle that had escorted them out of London, had also come to a halt. The door of the armoured car opened and out stepped Corporal Llewelyn Jones, or “Clue-Ellin”, as he had told Liz to call him. Llewelyn and his men had fought bravely in the battle last night, and Liz knew that without the soldiers’ help, none of them would have made it out alive.
Liz got out of the police car and waited for him to join her. The morning sun fell against her face, and even at this time of year, barely out of winter, the weak rays felt strong enough to burn her skin. She put her back to the sun and turned to face Llewelyn.
Corporal Jones sauntered over to her unhurriedly. Built like one of the mountains from his Welsh homeland, he seemed unruffled by the night’s trials. Apart from a scratch on
his face, he looked none the worse from battling werewolves and escaping from a ruined city. ‘All in a day’s work,’ he had told her before leaving London. His boyish grin and light, sandy-coloured hair were reassuringly the same as ever.
‘Hey, Liz, how you doing?’ he greeted her in his deep melodic voice.
‘Not so bad. Yourself?’
‘You know. SHTF.’
‘What?’
‘Shit hit the fan,’ he explained. ‘But somehow we made it out of there.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Liz, unable to stop thinking of Dean.
Llewelyn acknowledged her loss with a nod. ‘I’m sorry about your colleague. Half of my boys were killed too,’ he said sadly.
Liz nodded. Of the eight Welsh Guards who had fought in the battle against the wolf pack, four were dead, and one was injured with a gunshot wound. ‘How is Griffiths?’ she enquired.
‘He lost some blood, but we patched him up as best we could. Hopefully he’ll get some proper medical attention once we’re inside the camp.’
Behind them, the Land Rover driven by Jones’ second-in-command, Lance Corporal Hughes, pulled up. With him sat Vijay Singh, the Sikh boy that Liz had got to know from the local school, and his friend Drake Cooper. Vijay’s sister, Aasha, was also in the Land Rover, with the rest of the Singh family travelling in the Foxhound.
Liz waited anxiously to see if the lance corporal, also known as the Dogman, would come to join them, but mercifully he and his dog, Rock, stayed inside the vehicle. The pair of them had taken a strong dislike to her. She would be glad never to see that dog again. Any dog, for that matter.
‘So, Liz,’ said Jones, ‘I think it’s about time you told me what exactly the hell happened last night.’
She knew what he was talking about, and it was time for her to come clean with him. ‘I’ll tell you,’ she said, ‘but you might laugh when you hear what I have to say.’
‘Laugh?’ He shook his head solemnly. ‘I saw you turn into some kind of mad killing machine. No chance I’m going to be laughing about it.’
She nodded. Llewelyn had been standing right next to her when she’d transformed under the light of the moon. God knows what he’d thought. Some of his men had tried to shoot her dead on the spot, and she’d only just managed to escape from them. She was still covered in blood from the werewolves she had killed with her bare hands and teeth.
Lycanthropic (Book 4): Moon Rise [The Age of the Werewolf] Page 1
