Blood Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  “Well, that was brief,” Alana remarked. Her green eyes followed Eric as he made it up the stairs and disappeared inside the holding room.

  Simon watched Eric disappear. A moment later he reemerged, empty-handed. He shut the door and locked it with the loud click of the deadbolt.

  “Who is he?” she asked.

  Simon gave a shrug. He lit a fresh cigarette.

  “Some kid Sean nabbed,” he finally answered. Smoke blew out of his nose. “Thought maybe he’d be useful for some extra information. He was with the PRDI. I thought it accounted for something.”

  “The PRDI is shit,” Alana said, but Simon didn’t remark on it. “Seems like a bust,” she continued. She turned and her high-heeled boots clicked loudly on the concrete floor. She stood next to the table where Claire stood and removed one of her guns from the holster. She inserted a new clip and peered down the sight. When she was satisfied with it, she set it down and picked up a new clip.

  “I would’ve left him there.” She tossed her head and glanced sideways at Simon. He didn’t pay attention to her. He began to laugh instead.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “Nothing.” He grinned. “Well, actually, I wanted to leave the boy there. We didn’t need him. I had enough information as it was from my rendezvous at the PRDI main building. It was Sean here that captured him.” He clasped a hand over the shorter man’s shoulder. Sean winced. “He had fun doing it, so I didn’t think it shouldn’t have been in vain.”

  “You are so kind,” Sean said sarcastically. He looked trapped, but Simon just laughed.

  Alana said nothing and haughtily turned her attention back to her guns. Claire continued with her task of downloading the rest of her files.

  Sean broke away from Simon and slipped through one of the downstairs doorways and into his sleeping quarters. Eric appeared at Simon’s side again.

  “Do you need me for anything else?” he said in his deep voice.

  “No, Eric. Just keep your eyes and ears open. I may need you to keep a lookout later.”

  “Right, boss.” Eric nodded, gave Alana and Claire a parting glance and followed Sean’s path.

  Once the men were gone, Simon let out a sigh and took a very long draw from his cigarette. Claire watched from the corner of her eye as Simon headed for the steps. He clacked his way to the upper floor. Alana paused to watch him.

  “I don’t want to be disturbed for one hour.” he called down to them. His voice echoed. “Make sure of it.” The door to his room slammed shut as he went inside.

  “Hmph.” Alana ejected the magazine from her other gun now and dropped it on the table. “I swear, I hate that man,” she seethed.

  Claire let out a slight chuckle. “I know that feeling.”

  Alana slammed the gun down. Claire jumped. She turned her full attention to the woman.

  “Who’s the bitch?” Alana asked her. “Why did he bring her here?” She waited. Her angry gaze moved over Claire slowly and appraised her.

  “Why didn’t you ask him yourself?” Claire turned back to her computer.

  “Would you?”

  “No.”

  “Likewise.” Alana sighed.

  Claire stared down at her computer’s screen and watched the rest of the download. It was more than half complete. She tried to ignore Alana but something burned in her mind. She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  Alana, who had been loading an empty clip with ominous silver bullets, turned her deadly stare to her.

  “What?”

  “Simon. Are you scared of Simon?”

  Alana laughed sharply and shook her head. Her eyes shone brightly and betrayed her confident smirk.

  “I’m not scared of him. He’s just a man.” She tilted her head in the direction of his room. “Why? Are you scared?” Again, she looked Claire over.

  Claire hesitated for a moment and looked away from the computer to study Alana’s face. A self-satisfied smirk played on her lips.

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m terrified of him.” The computer’s download was complete and Claire had a good excuse for not looking into Alana’s eyes. She shut it off. “You should be too. There’s something not right about him…” Her voice trailed off.

  Once more, Alana laughed and gave a shake of her head. She continued with her task. “Well, there is something about him, but I don’t see anything wrong. You worry too much, Claire. I’m not afraid of Simon.”

  Claire snapped the laptop shut. “If you aren’t afraid of him, then why don’t you ask him yourself?” She lifted on eyebrow at Alana.

  Color rushed to Alana’s face. It flared into her cheeks. Her eyes flamed with indignation. “It’s none of your business what I do…”

  It was Claire’s turn to laugh, but she kept it to a low chuckle. She couldn’t help but smirk at Alana.

  “You’re scared, but not of Simon. You’re scared of her. You’re scared of a little competition.”

  “Of course not, that’s ridiculous. I just wanted to know who the fucking were-bitch is, and why she’s here…”

  “Just so long as she stays away from your man, right?” Claire nodded. “Sure.” She gathered her laptop case and put the computer back into it.

  Alana’s glare did not waver. She swiftly replaced her gun in its holster and grabbed the loaded clips. She curled her lip in distaste at Claire.

  “I don’t have to listen to what some second-rate cunt tells me. Fuck off,” she growled, and turned her back to Claire. She moved toward the door leading to the former break room. The sound of it slamming jarred through Claire. It reverberated throughout the warehouse.

  She was alone now, finally. Alana grated on her nerves, just like everyone else around here, but she was slowly getting used to the insults and name-calling.

  She tucked the laptop case under her arm. She eyed the table and the array of weapons, ammo and equipment arranged there. She hesitated a moment, then grabbed one of the radios. She flipped it on and heard static. She switched it off. Claire had no idea just what she planned to do with it, but it might be useful.

  Carrying the laptop case and the radio, she moved her way to her sleeping quarters. Her room was simple and furnished only with a cot, a desk and a chair. It wasn’t too clean. She flipped on the simple lamp on the desk and lay down the equipment.

  Immediately, she slipped her hand inside the case and removed the black folder. She sat on the uncomfortable and cold folding chair and opened the files. Papers and photographs spilled onto the desk and she began to leaf through them.

  She had some research to do.

  Chapter Seven

  Alone in his room, Simon let out a growl. He tore the remnants of his T-shirt off and threw the bloody mess in a corner. He did the same with the useless bandaging. There was no wound. The skin was white and whole. He would bandage it again later, to keep up his ruse. He couldn’t let them know.

  A pile of clothing had been thrown onto a table near the wall. Alana wasn’t much of a housekeeper, but the stuff was here. That’s all that mattered. He searched through the lot until he found something dark and slipped it on. The main desk in the center of the room remained cluttered as always, with folders and papers. An ashtray overflowed with ash and butts. Scorch marks were burned into several photographs, purposefully done to burn out the eyes of the subject. He now looked these over.

  Disgust filled him. With a sweep of his hand, Simon brushed most of the papers off the desk. He didn’t want to look at them. They sickened him. The papers and photographs fluttered to the floor. They fell under the desk and under abandoned cabinets, out of sight. The ashtray hit the floor. Cigarette stubs spilled across the bare floor. Ash mushroomed in a cloud where it fell.

  He took a long drag from his cigarette, flicked the ash to the floor, and began to pace.

  She was here. There was nothing he could do until he worked out the next part of his plan. Getting the o
thers to leave him alone for long enough would be the toughest part. Claire was already getting suspicious. The others would soon follow.

  More cigarette ash found its way to the floor and he trampled over it. His boots clunked in steady rhythm. It was too risky to keep going like this. Eric would soon follow Claire’s suspicions. Then Alana, and then Sean, and Simon’s big secret would be out.

  For now, he couldn’t let them know what he was. It was becoming too much to hide his true self from them and the littlest things were beginning to slip. He knew it would be out in the open before he realized it. It would all be over.

  Was Eric expendable? What about Sean and Alana? Could he get rid of them before they found out?

  “Fuck.” He stopped pacing and turned to the window. The sun would be rising soon. The sky was turning blue and purple. He watched the clouds as they spread across the horizon, over the treetops. He let out a sigh. As much as he tried to convince himself the others would turn on him, there was no way he could be rid of them. He still needed them. There was so much they hadn’t done. There was so much left to do.

  A growl rose from him and because he was alone, Simon did not quell it. He let it out in a snarl and turned away from the window. A few more months, maybe a year and he could get rid of them all. Then he could be himself again. No more hiding. No more secrets. Then, he could finish his plan with her.

  His gaze fell on the papers on the floor. The Paranormal Research and Development logo flashed at the top of all the papers like some sort of threatening beacon. It burned on the top sheet. He grimaced at it and covered the prominent sign with the toe of his boot.

  He had bluffed to Davis about the cops. He wasn’t stupid. The cops would find out it was him. Even if they never found his fingerprints, they could find some of his blood, or a strand of hair and they would find him with a DNA match. He wasn’t about to let the police ruin his fun. Let the PRDI, or rather, what was left of them, deal with the mess.

  His only thought was that Davis might get away and blab to someone. Simon consoled himself with the thought that no one would take him seriously. He was sure Davis would be on the run. He was as much a part of all of it as Simon had been. He wasn’t too worried about what Davis would, or wouldn’t do. He was unstoppable now.

  He had known that Davis was one of his kind. He had smelled it the first time he had been introduced to the impetuous young man. He probed him for any sort of acknowledgement that his nose had been correct, but the young man seemed oblivious. At the very most, he was a half-blood and didn’t even know what he could do. Right from the start, Simon had been disappointed with Davis.

  Davis, who balked at the idea of killing werewolves and took numbing drugs to get rid of his reality, was and had always been one of his kind. The wound Simon had inflicted upon him would begin to heal, however slowly half-bloods healed, and then Davis would be wondering. Davis would become suspicious.

  But no one would believe him. It was that thought that kept Simon so sure. No one would believe his strange story about werewolves and hunters. Everyone would think it ridiculous.

  “Ridiculous.” Simon chuckled. He picked up his pacing again and moved around the back of the desk. He moved closer to the window and felt a slight breeze from the ill-insulated seams. The hair on his arms stood His gaze roamed over the lightening sky and adjusted quickly and accordingly. The leaves on the trees were changing with the first signs of autumn and were red and orange at the tops of the trees. He watched the first rays of light as they touched the earth and moved to reflect on the branches that would soon be bare.

  He became still and put out his cigarette on the window frame. He rested there, with his arms folded behind his back. A complacent grin was on his face, mirrored by his reflection in the dirty glass. Things were going pretty good right now. The first part of his plan was complete and soon the rest of it would fall into place. He still had time yet.

  There was no sense it worrying about anything right now.

  * * *

  She smelled blood. That’s what woke her. Even before she opened her eyes, her nose caught hold of the familiar scent. The rest of her senses soon followed and she breathed in the scent and tasted it on the air. She detected also, the scent of a human male.

  Groggily, Rose tried to lift her head. It felt extremely heavy and she couldn’t lift it far. It fell back and hit the hard surface upon which she lay. She let out a groan. A pain throbbed in her head.

  She winced and grimaced. She opened her eyes, but saw nothing but the inky darkness surrounding her. She blinked several times and her vision soon adjusted. Above her, she saw a high ceiling, cracked in places. Again, Rose blinked and rolled over.

  The floor she lay on was cold and made of concrete. Her head swam when she sat up. Her hand moved to her head and she wasn’t very surprised to feel a cold and clammy forehead. Strands of her hair stuck to her cheek in cold sweat. She let out a shuddering breath. Color flashed before her eyes and her vision blurred. Rose waited until it passed.

  What happened?

  Now that she could see much better and the pain began to lessen, Rose allowed herself a look around. There were no windows in the room and the only light came from a crack beneath the only door. There was a cot with a worn-out and dirty sheet. There was no toilet and no other furnishings. It was worse than a damn prison.

  Rose narrowed her eyes slightly and turned her head a bit more. She was not alone in here. Aidan lay on the floor on his side. His arms were spread out and his legs crooked at the knee. His head was turned at an odd angle.

  “Aidan,” she whispered. She crawled across the cold floor and ignored the pain in her head. She peered at him, at the blood on his mouth and shirt. “Oh, Aidan… What have they done?”

  When she reached him, she was relieved to find him still alive. His breath was slow and regular. His chest rose and fell normally. She adjusted his arms and turned him so he was on his back. Blood was drying from a nasty cut at the corner of his bottom lip. There was a large red circular wound on his cheek. The flesh was bloody and burnt and remnants of ash were smeared on his cheek.

  Rose closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. They had already started the torture on him. She let out a soft growl and opened her eyes. She stared at the door.

  A thousand thoughts hit her at once and she wasn’t sure just which to focus on. She was confused and couldn’t remember what had happened. Images flashed.

  Suddenly it all came back to her. It was all so clear. She saw him—her lover, her mate—lying on the floor with blood pooling around him. She saw the yellow-eyed stranger standing over him and leering. She smelled the blood. She smelled the were-scent. It was so strong.

  She almost collapsed where she knelt. Rose wavered and held out one hand to the floor to steady herself. A sickness rose in her throat and she gagged, but nothing came up. She tried to take a deep breath, but the precious air wouldn’t come to her.

  Oh God. Oh God. He’s dead. Dead. Oh God. How…? She pivoted on her knees and crawled a few paces away from Aidan. On her hands and knees, forehead to the cold floor, Rose began to sob. Her tears were hot as they escaped her eyes. They were salty when they touched her lips. They dripped onto the cold and dirty floor beneath her. Her fingernails tried vainly to clench into the floor, but the pavement was unyielding. An anguished cry erupted from her.

  Rose let out her screams and a sharp pain started in her lower back. Her hands cramped and her knuckles popped as she splayed them before her. Her knees hurt against the hard surface she was pressed against. Her forehead was numb and tears burned down her face.

  “No!” she screamed. “Jason!” His name came out in a growl. The pain grew stronger and moved up her spine. It spread to all her limbs. She felt the familiar tightening of her muscles. The shift was coming.

  She had felt it during her struggle at the PRDI. She felt the wolf pulling and tearing at her insides as she clawed her way out. The wolf wanted out. She wanted to hunt, to hurt, to protect. She had b
een threatened. It could not go unpunished.

  She had felt it during her struggle in the back of the van. The man with the golden-eyes wasn’t human. He hadn’t smelled human and his strength had been too much for her. He was one of them. He was a werewolf.

  She wanted to throw up, but again she dry heaved. She choked on the air she tried to gulp too fast. She cried out, once her voice found her, and she took in one ragged breath after another. She felt the bones crack and the pain consumed her. She screamed.

  Aidan was defenseless. Rose lifted her head from the floor, vision blurred when she looked back at him. The boy hadn’t moved from his position. She would snap, surely, and hurt him. She wouldn’t be able to control her hurt and rage and would lash out at him. She couldn’t do it. She would kill him.

  In wordless thoughts, the wolf realized this and backed down. With a final growl, she was subdued. Rose’s arms gave out and she hit the floor hard, panting. The wolf had let go of the shift, but she remained there, ever present within Rose. She would come back, when the time was right. When it was time to go after the ones who did this to them. But she couldn’t hurt an innocent.

  Rose felt weak. The near-shift left her spent. She turned her head and her cheek met the chilly floor. Her tears were still wet upon her face. She lay there, unable to will herself to move. She closed her eyes to squeeze out a few more tears and breathed shakily. Her fingers flexed once, then again on the floor. Opening her eyes, she stared at the crack of light under the door.

  Jason was dead and she was a captive. There was nothing she could do now. She had to wait until she could face her captors. They couldn’t keep her here for long. Wolves never did well for very long in confined spaces.

  Her thoughts trailed away and left her with incoherent images and feelings. Her thoughts became forgotten and she began to drift away. Once or twice, she found herself jerking in her dreaming state, bringing her back, but she was so tired…