Blood Moon Rising

by Claire Marta

  “Sweet dreams,” the angel sang, the sound manic and unhinged. “I hope you enjoy your new home. Centuries contained and starving will drive you mad as you waste to nothing.”

  Raising his arms, Eric wasn’t in time to prevent the lid banging closed above him, boxing him in. Fists pounding the surface, he yelped when he experienced an unpleasant burning. Realisation dawned quickly.

  The coffin.

  He’d walked unknowingly into a trap that’d been designed solely for him. The silver, which lined the other metal, made in the vampire prison prevented him from escaping. Already, he could feel it at work, draining him of strength. It’s lethal poison would soon sink into the layers of his skin.

  Eric felt panic swelling inside him. He was trapped. Enclosed. Helpless. Throat constricting, he fought with growing fear, but to no avail. This was his worst nightmare come true.

  Jasmine woke to the soft glow of lamp light. Relaxed and sleepy, she brushed a hand across her eyes, rubbing away the lingering drowsiness.

  When had she fallen asleep? The last thing she remembered was reaching the bedroom, then everything else was a blank.

  Glancing toward the window, she noted how dark it was outside. What had happened to the day? Sitting up, Jasmine slipped off the mattress.

  Why hadn’t Fergus come to find her? Surely, the others had returned and would have noticed her absence by now. Nothing made sense.

  Peering out, she took in the silent garden. The moon shone bright in the night sky. Not the usual beautiful, luminous pearl. Tonight, it was steeped in crimson. Mysterious, hanging large and low, it looked much closer to earth than ever before. A red moon. Jasmine thought the title blood moon suited it better.

  Snatching up her smart phone, she swiped her finger across the screen. This couldn’t be right. The clock was telling her it was eleven at night. She’d been unconscious the day through. No messages were waiting for her. No missed calls.

  Dialling Marks number, Jasmine listened to it ring. It went on for long minutes with no answer. That was odd. The boss rarely didn’t pick up especially if it was one of the team.

  Foreboding took a hold of her. Something was off. Jasmine could feel it in her bones. With the red moon rising tonight, everyone had agreed to be back at the museum in plenty of time. Fergus would be on lock down. Had something happened? She knew the dangers of facing werewolves, especially a pack. Had her friends run into trouble?

  Ending the call, she slipped the phone into the pocket of her cotton dress. Gaze swinging to the bedside table, Jasmine grabbed the wolfsbane talisman, as an afterthought, shoving it in also.

  The heat was stifling. Mouth dry and skin bathed in a thin layer of sweat, she hurried to the door. There was a pressure in her head and behind her eyes. As if someone had taken a bottle of fizzy drink and shaken it until it was ready to explode within her skull. Jasmine had never experienced something so intense. It left her feeling uncomfortable.

  Twisting the door knob, she stepped out onto the landing. The silence crawled over her. It was creepy. Such a perfect void of nothingness, it took her a second to realise the clocks in the living room below were no longer ticking. Their constant sound had been soothing in the background. It was only now she realised how much.

  Again, Jasmine wondered where the inhabitants were hiding? Even without Mark, Gemma, and Eric, there were others in the house. Tabitha and Ellen had to be somewhere. Catherine had been due to go to the spa. The psychic should have arrived hours ago.

  Releasing a shaky breath, she crammed down thoughts of the vampire and his declaration of love. She still didn’t know what to make of it. Had no time to ponder if he meant it. The most important thing to do was find whoever was still inside the museum.

  Listening intently, she padded towards the stairs, careful not to make a noise. Above her, the light bulb flickered. Jasmine gave it a quick glare. She didn’t need a blackout. The museum was already nerve wracking enough without having to fumble around in the dark.

  Hurrying down the steps, she caught the sound of whispering. She’d had enough experience to know it wasn’t from the living. Rustling like old leaves, the voices were too disjointed to make any sense. Whatever the ghosts were saying sounded urgent and rushed.

  Scanning the corridor, Jasmine felt an automatic pull towards the way which lead into the exhibits. It wasn’t her favourite choice, but by now, she knew not to question a gut feeling. Tiptoeing along, she proceeded to check each room and the main display area.

  Finding one case smashed open, the glass glittered across the floor, she checked to see what had been inside. The label stated a medieval sword. Jasmine focused on the blood smeared in a trail beneath the fragments. It wasn’t pints, enough though to show someone or something had been injured. Had they been defending themselves from attack? Why hadn’t she heard it? Had they gone to the hospital? Could that be the reason no one was here?

  Jasmine hummed in her throat. It still didn’t explain why she’d been left. No. Something more sinister had happened. She was sure of it.

  Stepping over the pieces, she tried to work out what had happened in her mind. A way to get a clearer picture.

  A whimper teased her ears. Jasmine froze. She wasn’t alone after all.

  Tensing, ready just in case of a fight, she shuffled around a box, containing a suit of armour, towards the source. A mop of tawny hair came into view. Hugging her knees and making herself as tiny as possible, Tabitha sat huddled in a flowery pink nightie. The six-year old’s cheeks were streaked with tears. Eyes round and terrified, she stared up at Jasmine with a look as if she had been caught doing something bad. By her feet, what was left of her wooden puzzle box lay in shattered fragments.

  Some of Jasmine’s roiling worry loosened. If the child was here, the others couldn’t be too far. Just finding someone was a blessing and a relief.

  “Hey.” Squatting carefully beside her, she offered the girl a friendly smile. “Are you hurt?”

  Mouth trembling, Tabitha shook her head. Fresh tears glistened in her eyes water-logging her thick lashes. Although she was pale and shaking, there was no signs of harm present on the rest of her.

  “Do you know where everyone went? Ellen and your mummy?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Jasmine was taken aback by the soft whisper. She hadn’t been expecting a verbal answer. Up until now, she’d thought the child couldn’t speak.

  “Why can’t you tell me?” she asked in a gentle murmur. Awareness of invisible eyes watching them had the hairs on the back of Jasmine’s neck rising. The ghosts were close. She could feel them brushing against her mind. Their whispers still echoed throughout the place, insistent and climbing.

  Hugging her knees tighter, Tabitha hesitated before answering. She seemed to be torn between wanting to talk but frightened to in the same instant.

  “The thing that lives under her skin will get angry if I do. It took my favourite box.”

  Jasmine’s stomach knotted with anxiety. Why didn’t this sound good? “What thing?”

  “The monster with no face.”

  “What monster?”

  “It’s in my dreams.” The horror in girl’s eyes was mirrored on her chubby little face. “It wants me to do bad things, and it knows my name.”

  Della.

  It had to be. The angel had been plaguing Jasmine in her sleeping hours. Had the bitch been playing with Tabitha too? It reinforced her theory that everything she’d told her was a lie, tricks to keep her guessing and off balance.

  Pressing her lips together in anger, Jasmine vowed to give the angelic female a black eye next time they met. It was one thing to toy with her, but this child was an innocent.

  “Let’s get out of here. How about that, Tabitha?” she kept her tone light. “Then, my friends and I can come back and scare that monster away so it never bothers you again.”

  Titling her head to the side, the child observed her with a look of hope. “You can do that?”

  “Yes, w
e can. I’m going to tell you a secret. We’re superheroes in disguise, and we came here to help you.” Offering her hand, Jasmine felt a sense of triumph when Tabitha took it, and they both rose to their feet.

  “Really?”

  Jasmine nodded her expression serious. “Come on.”

  They needed to get out. The headache Jasmine was experiencing was only worsening. She had a suspicion it was linked to the magical items and the ghosts here. Since realising she had the ability to amplify certain magic, it made her even more sensitive to them. Jasmine could feel them now. Stirring, pulsing. They were building by the second.

  Turning the corner, they came to a dead stop. Bent and twisted, the mangled remains of what Jasmine recognised as the medium had been left discarded in a puddle of its own thickening, drying blood. Silver bangles were strewn over the floor. Bits of tattered material that had made up her flowing skirts barely covered her broken limbs. The expression the woman wore had Jasmine’s own run cold. It was petrifying.

  “Don’t look.” Taking Tabitha’s shoulders, she rotated her in the other direction before she had a chance to process what she’d glimpsed.

  Jasmine noted the bloodied paw marks along the floor. They were too large to be a dog.

  Werewolf.

  Fergus’s words race through her head. With the red moon up, they’d be lost to their animal side. There’d be no reasoning with them. Instincts would be ruling them.

  Could this be the work of her team mate? Jasmine tried to reject the idea, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d didn’t know if he was contained. Fergus was bound to the moon like every other shifter. He’d have no control tonight. The brotherly male she knew so well wouldn’t be present. If he were loose, then he’d be more than a danger. Killer instincts, a feral shifter’s blood lust was legendary. They were also said to be unstoppable when they retreated fully from their humanity. His hunger would be insatiable. The only thing that would end the carnage would be dawn.

  “Here.” Fishing out the wolfsbane talisman, Jasmine handed it to the child she was doing her best to protect. “Keep this with you and don’t lose it. This charm will keep you safe from the furry monsters.”

  Tabitha took it carefully and stared at the pretty blue metal flower. “Is it magic?”

  “Yes, and very powerful. It will stop them from hurting you.”

  Wrapping her finger around it, the girl clutched it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Right now, it was. If it kept her from being mauled, Jasmine knew giving it to her was the best decision she’d made in days.

  Back tracking, she directed Tabitha the way they’d come. There were still the doors leading to the garden. From there, they could take the alley onto the street. A safe enough distance away and Jasmine could contact Scotland Yard and have a backup team sent in. The authorities here in Budapest had their own department, who she could also ask for help.

  “You can’t stop the inevitable.”

  Fear wiggled its way up Jasmine’s spine at the sound of Della’s voice. It was disembodied, menacing. Had she somehow read her thoughts? Or had she guessed her aim?

  Tightening her grip on the girl’s hand, she hurried faster. They were practically running now. Their footsteps loud as they fled.

  “Mummy?”

  Tabitha’s uncertain question had Jasmine jerking to a halt. Blocking their way, a figure emerged from the shadows. Her flesh was lily white beneath blue veins spread in a pattern like fine Italian marble. Whoever or whatever it was glaring from behind Caroline’s eyes bore a hatred that was beyond anything Jasmine had seen before. The entity was malice itself. An embodiment of the emotion in the body it now inhabited.

  She was dead.

  Jasmine knew it in an instant.

  “What have you done to her?” she asked, knowing Della was still with them. Her presence was oppressive and evil.

  “I’m using her shell as a means to an end.”

  With Tabitha already traumatised, she didn’t want to ask if she’d been the one to murder her mother. “And what is that?”

  The angel’s laughter was full of smug glee. “I must purge this world of the one responsible for what you’ve seen.”

  The walls around them flickered. Outlines danced, stretching and taking shape. Spectral forms crowding around them bleeding through the plane they inhabited, as if somehow reality was washing away. It was if everything was being crushed together. Jasmine knew she wasn’t the only one witnessing it. Tabitha’s gasp and the way she buried into her side let her know this was beyond even her abilities.

  “She’s a child and done nothing to you.” Retreating, Jasmine desperately looked for another escape.

  The corpse puppet shambled forwards, it’s lips lifting in a grimace meant to mimic a grin. “The threat must die.”

  “Why?”

  “To prevent the destruction of this world.”

  Not stopping, Jasmine kept them on a backward path. All they needed was an exit. “But surely the future can be changed? We can stop whatever happens, prevent if before it begins. It’s what my department does.”

  “I can’t take that chance.”

  “Yes, you can,” Jasmine argued.

  The dead woman shook her head. “No. Exile is the punishment for me if you were to be wrong. I refuse to chance being cast out.”

  A whooshing filled the air. Swirling in a frenzy of silhouettes, the ghosts, which had been watching and hovering, swarmed in around the walking talking corpse. Della’s scream of frustration was chilling and inhuman.

  Jasmine didn’t waste the distraction. Swivelling, she took off down the corridor already locked into where she wanted them to go. Rushing into the kitchen, she slammed the door behind them. It wasn’t much of a barrier, but there were windows they could use to get outside.

  “Fuck me!” she yelped, turning to come face to face with the house keeper. The old woman was standing by the stove, a frying pan held up in her hand ready to use it as a weapon. Her white hair had come loose in places from its bun.

  “It’s okay,” Jasmine assured quickly. “We’re trying to get out.”

  Tabitha had withdrawn to the far corner. Seeing the monster her mother had become had sent her into her shell. Rocking back and forth, she stared at the ground. Jasmine recognised shock. The girl was having a hard time coping.

  “It take my son.”

  The broken English was clear enough for Jasmine to understand.

  “You speak English?”

  Placing the pan down, the housekeeper nodded, twisting the front of her apron fretfully with her hands. “Yes...little.”

  “What do you mean it took him?” Jasmine knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “Enslave him. He is Tamás. He help around house.”

  The young man they’d seen only once, helping her carrying in the groceries. Was he one of the werewolves that had been observing them? A member of the Budapest pack?

  “Enslave how?”

  Howls abruptly split the air intermittently. Foreboding gripped Jasmine. She knew the difference between the sound of a regular wolf and a werewolf. The calls that were echoing outside weren’t ones she was glad to hear.

  “Pendant. It was in Tabitha’s box.” The old woman gestured to her neck. “It control their will, and it has your friend now too.”

  Fergus? Jasmine’s gaze strayed towards the door. Was he out there, now, a mindless solider being controlled by Della for her nefarious purposes?

  “Your son is a werewolf? Is he part of the local pack?”

  A nod of her white head confirmed the question. “Not by blood. He bitten. Get the curse.”

  Which could only mean that their family were the rare few that could become shifters. They had the gene that made them receptive to the bite. Once bitten, their DNA was rewritten. It was irreversible.

  The silence hit them. It was so unnatural that it made them both shudder.

  “You’re the one who’s been setting them on us,” Jasmine
spoke slowly, her attention circling to Tabitha, who was still rocking back and forth as if it gave her comfort. “Gemma called you creepy. That’s why they attacked her while we were sightseeing. They backed off the next time, when Fergus and I confronted them because we hadn’t hurt your feelings.”

  “I..I didn’t know.” A tear slipped down the child’s cheek as she struggled with the magnitude of what she had done. “Granddad gave me the pretty necklace. He said to keep it safe.”

  Jasmine stepped towards her, gathering her into the safety of her arms. “Hey, it’s okay, Tabby. Don’t cry honey. I’m not angry with you; I promise.”

  She knew it hadn’t been done out of malice. Tabitha couldn’t have realised what she had been wielding was dangerous. She was young. Her imagination vast with possibilities. It had probably seemed like a game.

  “I need to get you both out of here. Let’s get a window open.”

  “No.” The house keepers voice was firm. “The beasts roam outside. They rip us to pieces if we go. Find dagger. Bring it here to destroy. She need it to hurt Tabitha.”

  “Which dagger?” Jasmine asked slowly.

  “The one the evil one has been after.”

  Not the pendant? The artefact they’d been hunting all this time. Why the fuck hadn’t she told them earlier? They’d have confirmed what they we’re looking for days ago if someone had bothered to question her.

  “I don’t know where the hell it is,” Jasmine explained in frustration. “We don’t even know what it does! Ellen showed us a photo. We’ve been searching for days, without success. So unless you know if it’s hidden in a secret room or somewhere, we’re effectively screwed.”