Blood Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  She closed her eyes, and slept.

  * * *

  Glen slammed the van door shut and started the engine. It roared to life, the heater spat out a blast of artic air. They didn’t have time to let it heat up. He put it in gear and pulled out of his parking place.

  Davis stared out the window and watched the PRDI building become smaller and smaller and then finally disappear as Glen turned a corner. They were on their way from this place, finally. The back of the van had been loaded with what weapons they had found and an unconscious Jason. Davis was glad they were leaving.

  Briefly Davis stared down at his hands. They were still blood stained. He looked away and back out the window. They came to the end of the residential neighborhood and the houses were giving way to empty fields and trees. He sighed and his breath made fog on the glass.

  Glen was silent beside him. He drove carefully, but a bit faster than the speed limit called for. He took the curves and turns without braking. The heater finally kicked on and warm air slowly began to circulate through the van and he moved one hand from the steering wheel to adjust the vents. The air blew at his black hair and pushed it away from his face.

  It was Davis who finally broke the silence. He turned away from the window and glanced over at Glen. “Do you think the cops will show up?”

  “I doubt it,” Glen answered. He looked grim. He kept his eyes on the road.

  “Why?” Davis couldn’t help but ask. He took a cue from Glen and moved his hands toward the vents. The air was hot now and he let his hands warm for a while as he waited for Glen to speak.

  The driver let out a deep breath. “I don’t know why, but I’m sure the cops won’t want to get involved in something like this.”

  “Well, even if they don’t want to get involved, won’t they still have something to do here? Report it, or something?”

  “That won’t happen unless someone calls and reports a disturbance. Even under the threat your leader made, I doubt he will want attention drawn to this. The only thing that would ensure the cops arriving would be complaints from neighbors. This place stays pretty quiet, but with the storm, I doubt anyone heard anything.”

  Davis considered it a moment. It seemed solid. Maybe the cops wouldn’t show up. Maybe they could get away. Glen continued.

  “It’s up to the PRDI now. When we get to the main building, I’ll have someone come out here and…well, clean up. We’ll keep it low key. We don’t want any extra attention.”

  “People don’t really trust you guys, do they?”

  Glen looked over at him for the first time since climbing in the van. “Do you mean ‘you guys’ as in werewolves or ‘you guys’ as in the PRDI?”

  “Well, both actually.”

  Glen thought about it a moment, his eyes turning back to the road. “No, they don’t. They don’t trust the PRDI and they certainly don’t trust us. I don’t think we’ll ever be really trusted or even understood.”

  Davis went silent and stared ahead of him. His hands were warm now and he removed them from the heater. The sun would be rising soon. It looked so clear outside and he was just now realizing how well his sight penetrated the darkness. He had never thought of it before and had never even considered it. But here it was…

  He looked over at Glen. “You know, I think you’re right.”

  “You better get used to it too. You’re about to discover a whole new world now that you’re awakening your were-side.”

  “I am not awakening to anything.”

  “Oh, please.” Glen let out a quick laugh. “Denying it is so pathetic. You’re one of us. You’re awakening. Get over it.”

  He gave an adamant shake of his head. “No way, man.”

  “Goddamn, are you ever stubborn…” Glen shook his head.

  “I still can’t believe it.” Davis looked to Glen for a response, but he was silent. “How is it possible?” Davis tried again. Glen sighed.

  “Listen, if you’ll let me, I’ll explain all I can to you, when I can. Right now, I have to concentrate on getting us to the PRDI’s main building.” He glanced in the rearview mirror warily and flexed his hands on the steering wheel. He looked over at Davis. “I’ll try to help you out all I can.”

  “Why would you help me? Aren’t I the enemy?” Davis couldn’t help but sound sarcastic.

  “Maybe.” Glen narrowed his eyes. “But you have no choice but to help me. In exchange, I help you. Is it a deal?”

  Davis blew out heated breath on the window again and considered for a moment. Glen turned his attention back to the road and drove on in silence for another few minutes. Davis weighed his options. He had come with him so far, and while he didn’t trust the werewolf, he had no reason not to trust him. He had little choice. He had already made one deal. Why not another?

  “I help you, you help me. It’s a deal.”

  Glen gave a half grin and nodded his head. “All right. Finally, a step in the right direction.”

  “It’s about time,” Davis muttered. He blinked a few times and then glanced over his shoulder. The back of the van was dark, but he could see the shapes back there. He stared at Jason’s still unconscious form.

  “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

  Glen’s grin faded and was replaced with a serious stare. He didn’t look over, but gave a huge sigh.

  “Not before we get there…I hope.”

  Chapter Eight

  The hot water ran over his naked body and washed away the dried blood, plastering his hair to his forehead and the back of his neck. A few minutes ago he had awoken, unsure of where he was, of what had happened. Everything was foggy. He couldn’t remember what had happened, where he was, or why he was here.

  He blew breath from his lips. A fine mist of water sprayed against the glass shower stall. Pain throbbed at the back of his head and he turned up the temperature of the water. He ran his hand along the back of his head where it hurt. He rubbed his jaw where it hurt too, rolling his tongue over the broken tooth from the fight.

  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Hot water rushed over his face. He gasped, swallowing some of the water, spitting most of it out. It warmed the front of his body and steam rolled over the top of the stall and filled the bathroom. He moved his hands over his arms. The water turned pink as the blood washed away and swirled down the drain.

  With his eyes still closed, Jason turned so that his backside met with the wet glass stall. A chill ran through him. The fine hairs all over his body stood on end and he sucked in a breath. Soon, the chill wore off and he was immersed in the warm steam of the shower yet again. He clenched his hands tightly and tried to think, to remember.

  Everything played over in his mind, like some silent, blood-drenched movie. He saw flashes of people, some he knew, others he didn’t. His senses were overwhelmed with smells and his ears pounded with the sounds of his drum-like heartbeat. He remembered the last flash of pain as the bullet entered his torso. It tore through his chest, exiting out the back. Then he had blacked out.

  Jason let out a deep breath and released his fists. He turned the shower off and a steady drip of water fell at his feet. He shook his head, his wet hair flying wildly about him.

  He recalled the fight with the tall man who moved too fast for him and had been too strong. He had shot him, left him for dead. But Jason had survived, somehow, and now, he was pissed.

  He didn’t know where he was. He wiped water from his eyes and pushed strands of hair that stuck to the side of his face and stepped out of the shower. Steam clouded the mirror and he wiped the mist away with the palm of his hand. Through the streaky reflection he got a good look at himself.

  His eyes were bloodshot, his skin whiter than he had ever seen it before. His long dark hair fell in strings around his face. He looked feral. His eyes were golden and intense. He even grimaced to add more to the wild demeanor.

  Suddenly, he balled up his fist and smashed it into the mirror. Shards of glass flew out of it and tinkled around the sink a
nd to the floor. He pulled back his hand. He left an imprint of his knuckles in the board behind the glass, stained with his blood. The broken mirror had become an intricate web of shattered glass. Blood dripped from his hand to the sink and splattered on the floor.

  His reflection was now broken and he snarled at himself. His yellow eyes burned back at him. He broke the stare and looked down. The flesh of his knuckles bled profusely. The scent of the blood fueled him.

  “Fuck.” He seethed and grabbed a hand towel from the rack. He wrapped it around the hand. The fingers felt broken, but he wasn’t sure. Blood seeped through the white cloth almost instantly.

  Whoever it was that left him there for dead would regret it. He would find him and he wouldn’t be caught off guard this time. He would rip his fucking throat out.

  Not bothering with a towel, Jason left the bathroom and returned to the room he had awoken in. He paused beside the bed to look around. It was similar to the room he and Rose had shared at the PRDI. Another wave of anger washed through him. He let it out in a quick breath.

  The PRDI. Surely he was in another of their hellhole “safe” houses. Some safe place. Everyone at the last one was murdered. He wasn’t even sure how many had gotten away. Someone must’ve gotten away. How else would he have ended up here? Glen had escaped. Rose and Aidan were heading for the backdoor when he got distracted. They had to have gotten out.

  A sinking pit in his stomach told him not to be so certain. He tried to shake the doubt, but it wouldn’t budge. He took a deep breath and moved on. Wherever he was, he didn’t plan to stay here long. He had some things he needed to deal with.

  He searched the room, but found no clothes. While he was comfortable in his own skin, walking around naked was not a probable scenario. There was a wardrobe, but he soon found it was empty. He cursed.

  He didn’t have to worry about his lack of clothes for very long. A few moments later, the door to his room opened and Glen entered with an armful of clothing. He balked in the doorway and stared at Jason in surprise.

  “You’re awake.”

  “You’re damn right I’m awake. Give me some fucking clothes. I have to get out of here.”

  Glen shut the door behind him and threw the clothes on the bed. Jason immediately began to sort through them. There was a pair of army camouflage pants that were slightly too long for him and a black sleeveless shirt that fit a bit tightly, but they would have to do. He slipped them on while Glen watched.

  “I don’t understand it. I thought you were a goner. You were shot several times. Anyone else would’ve died from it…” He eyed the bloody towel around Jason’s hand, but he said nothing about it. He crossed his arms and his dark eyes followed Jason’s movements.

  “I guess I’m just special like that,” he said as he slipped the shirt over his chest. There was a pair of boots, no doubt Glen’s. They were a size too big. He slipped them on, sitting on the edge of the bed as he laced them up.

  “I don’t care about that,” he finally said. “I want to find the fucker that did this and deal him some justice.” He turned his gaze to Glen. Glen appeared edgy, fidgeting a moment, switching from one foot to the other. He finished tying his boot and stood to his feet.

  “I need guns. Where are they, Glen?”

  “Relax, man.” Glen held out both hands. “You have to listen to me first—”

  “Relax? You want me to relax? Fuck that, I’m going after them. I’ll find the fucking guns myself.”

  He started for the door, but Glen was quick to grab his upper arm. Jason snarled and threw a punch with his wounded hand and hit Glen squarely in the jaw. It wasn’t enough to break the grip the full-blood werewolf had on him. Glen’s eyes burned yellow as he stared hard at Jason and stood his ground. A smear of blood dirtied his jaw line.

  “There’s so much shit you don’t understand, Jason! You can’t go after him, not yet.”

  “Why the fuck not?” Jason tried to pull away. “Let go of me, Glen.”

  “I can’t, Jason. You have to listen to me.”

  “Let go of me, Glen.”

  “No.”

  “Let me the fuck go!” Jason gathered all the strength he could and pulled his arm out of Glen’s grip. Glen stumbled a bit, but did not fall. He looked at Jason with an intense stare.

  Jason edged for the door when suddenly it opened and a figure he never expected to see ever again stood right in front of him. Davis faltered as he stared at the angered werewolf. His face blanched and his eyes went wide. The fear stink started around him. Jason growled.

  “You…”

  “No!” Glen yelled, and again grabbed Jason. He hurled him back.

  Jason stumbled, his eyes fixed on Davis. Glen closed the space between them.

  “You fucker,” Jason spat. He climbed to his feet and started for Davis again. Glen blocked him with a broad forearm. “You lead them to us. I’ll fucking kill you!”

  “No!” Glen yelled again. With a growl, he shoved Jason with all his strength. He fell again.

  “Why the fuck are you protecting this hunter?” Jason demanded. Spit flew from his mouth. “Why the fuck are you here?” he said directly to Davis.

  Davis moved out of the doorway and shut the door behind him. He looked nervous, uncertain. Glen spoke for him.

  “He’s not a hunter, Jason.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. I don’t fucking believe it. He was there with them.” Jason made another go at Davis, but Glen pushed him away.

  “Stop it, Jason. You don’t understand.” Glen's eyes changed a moment when he looked at Jason. “Davis is a werewolf.”

  “What?” Jason narrowed his eyes at the man who cowered behind Glen. “That poor excuse for a human being is actually a werewolf? Are you fucking with me?” He cooled down, the rage subdued only by his confusion.

  “As far as I know.” Glen looked back at Davis. “I can’t figure out if he’s a half-blood or a changed-blood—”

  “What the fuck is a changed-blood?” Jason snapped.

  “Yeah, what the fuck is a changed-blood? For that matter, what the fuck is a half-blood? I’m so fucking confused.” Davis finally spoke up. Jason shot him an angry glare, but Davis held it for once.

  Glen shook his head. “Jason, you really need to get in with the PRDI. If you had, you’d know all this by now.”

  “Gee, sorry, Glen. The last time I had dealings with the PRDI, everyone was killed.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. Glen didn’t acknowledge it. He continued.

  “A half-blood is a werekin that has either half or less of the werewolf blood in them. One of their parents definitely had to be a full-blood or a half-blood in order for that to happen. If that’s true, then Davis could’ve been born one.”

  “Wait, that’s fucking impossible,” Davis interjected. “I couldn’t have been born one. Wouldn’t I have known about it? Wouldn’t I have had some sort of abilities growing up?”

  Glen considered it a moment as Jason stared at Davis and appraised him. His gaze dared him to move. Davis noted this, stared back a moment. Jason returned his attention to Glen as he spoke once again.

  “Not necessarily. If you are less than half-blood, a fourth or so, then you probably won’t have many of the abilities. I know you do though, I’ve witnessed them. You have the advanced healing. Sure, you don’t heal as fast as I do, but I’m full-blooded.”

  Jason glared at Glen. “What are changed-bloods?”

  “I’m getting to that. Let me finish, please?” Glen snapped back. He exchanged heated stares with Glen and then turned his gaze to Davis, who listened intently. “Think back to when you were a kid. Anything stick out in your mind that doesn’t seem right?”

  “A few things. I can’t help but think about it.”

  “Then you could be half-blood. The only other alternative is if you came in contact with any werewolf blood in your childhood. Even then, that would be an iffy thing.”

  Jason shook his head and scoffed impatiently. “Fucking tell us already.”


  “Calm down, man.” Glen glared at him once again. “I’m getting to it. All right, this is what I know so far. The PRDI has detailed records and analyses based on tests done here on full-blood, half-blood and changed-blood werewolves. There is a certain gene within us that gives us our abilities and makes us what we are. Our DNA is complex, more so than that of a human and our studies have only brought us so far. What we do know is that it is possible for a human to become a werewolf if they possess a dormant were-gene and come in contact with the blood or DNA of a werewolf.”

  “What?” Jason and Davis said it at the same time. Glen let out an exasperated sigh. Jason continued to watch Davis suspiciously.

  “Okay, it’s like this. A human has the were-gene. It’s dormant within them. They show no signs of any abilities. Let’s say they get a cut on their hand. Later, they come in contact with a werewolf and let’s say the werewolf has a cut and it’s bleeding. They touch. The werewolf blood comes in contact with the human’s wound, and bingo…it awakens the were-gene and we have a changed-blood.”

  There was a moment of silence and Davis’ eyes went wide, while Jason narrowed his. He shook his head.

  “I thought that shit was only in movies and books.”

  “Well, some of that is based on fact. Getting bitten alone doesn’t transfer the DNA, but if the werewolf already has his or her own blood in the mouth, when he or she bites—”

  “It makes a werewolf,” Davis finished. “Fuck.”

  “So, unless you came into contact with something like I described, then you are probably a half-blood. It’s that simple,” Glen said. He watched both men.

  “How the hell do you know all this?” Davis asked. He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Well, I am a PRDI member, and I have lived here most of my life. You pick up on these things when you have nothing else to do.”

  Jason let out a deep breath and turned to Davis. “Just because you’re one of us doesn’t mean I won’t kill you later if I get the chance. Remember that.” He then turned to Glen “Well, thanks for the biology lesson, but I need to get the fuck out of here. Where are the others? Where’s Rose?”