Ebon Moon

by McDonald, Dennis

  “I told you I’d be out here tonight.”

  “You did.”

  “Can you guess why we’re dressed like this?”

  Jessica shrugged. “Halloween’s early this year?”

  Debbie smiled an evil grin. “I’ll be singing hits from the eighties tonight. You know? Joan Jett, Corey Hart, Madonna.”

  “You sing karaoke?”

  “I do.” Debbie replaced the sunglasses.

  Jessica took their beer order and returned to the bar.

  “Watch out for that girl,” Roxie commented as she popped the tops off the ordered longnecks. “She likes to make trouble. Debbie comes in here with her posse of lowlives and stirs up drama. I’ve had Collin throw them out a couple of times.”

  “Okay.”

  Returning to the table, Jessica put down their order and took their money. She was about to leave when the man sitting across from Debbie grabbed her by the wrist. He was about thirty with reddish brown hair and a light goatee.

  “You’re name’s Jess, isn’t it?” The man squeezed her wrist tighter. “I’m Brody.”

  “Hi,” Jessica said, trying to slip her wrist from his grip. “I have to get back to work.”

  “That’s the sheriff’s girl,” Debbie chimed in. “You better watch it.”

  “It is?” He looked Jessica up and down. “He always did know how to pick a hot piece of ass.”

  “Please, let go,” Jessica said in a more demanding tone.

  “Or what? Are you going to call the sheriff on me? I’m scared now. But you know what?” He looked around the bar. “I don’t see him.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Debbie said. “He had to go on some emergency call. I saw him racing out of town doing ninety to nothing. That’s why he’s not here.” Debbie showed another smile. “Too bad, huh, Jess?”

  “You’re hurting me,” Jessica said in a louder voice and then kicked him hard in the shin with the toe of her shoe.

  “Bitch.” He released the hold on her wrist and stood to his feet. “What did you do that for?”

  “Don’t touch me again,” she said, stepping back.

  Roxie suddenly appeared at her side holding the sawed-off end of a pool cue in her hand. “Brody, I don’t want any of your shit tonight.”

  “Sorry. I was just talking to the pretty new lady.”

  Pointing to everyone sitting at the table, Roxie said, “If there is any more bullshit; I’m tossing you all out. Understood, Debbie?”

  Debbie nodded. “We’re here to have a good time. No trouble.”

  “Just make sure it stays that way.”

  Following Roxie back to the bar, Jessica said, “Thanks.”

  “I saw what happened,” Roxie stated, placing the sawed-off pool cue back under the bar. “You aren’t afraid to fight back, are you?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Well, Debbie shouldn’t cause any more trouble. She loves to sing karaoke and doesn’t want me to throw her out. I’ll wait on their table the rest of the night.”

  “Works for me.”

  “I just wish Collin was here.”

  Jessica thought for a moment, looking toward the stool at the end of the bar. “Where’s Uncle Johnny? I thought you said he never missed a night here.”

  Roxie shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  From the backseat of the sheriff’s car, Terry Newman watched EMTs roll the gurney carrying Mr. Higgins off the porch of the dilapidated farmhouse. Strapped to the stretcher, the old man wore an oxygen mask covering most of his face. The flashing red and blue lights provided by emergency vehicles made the scene look surreal and dreamlike. They wheeled him to the back of the ambulance and loaded him inside. With sirens blaring, the ambulance pulled out of the front yard and down the country road.

  “I hope he’s going to be all right,” Terry said to Sid, sitting beside him in the backseat.

  “Me, too, but what we have to worry about now is Sheriff Dickhead.” Sid nodded toward Sheriff Sutton, who had just finished talking to a couple of Oklahoma Highway Patrol officers. “We’re fucked now,” Sid stated.

  “Just be cool,” Terry cautioned.

  “What are we going to say happened?”

  “The truth.”

  “Screw that.” Sid fidgeted in the seat. “We need to come up with a better story than a werewolf.”

  “Let me do the talking.”

  Sheriff Sutton opened the rear door on Terry’s side and leaned his head in. The flashing police lights alternatively illuminated his grim face in red and blue.

  “Are you boys going to tell me what the hell you were doing out here tonight?”

  Terry cleared his throat. “Is Mr. Higgins all right?”

  “He’s stable, but it’s touch and go. They’re rushing him to County Regional in Stillwater. Now tell me what happened.”

  “We came with Mr. Higgins.”

  “Why?”

  “Are we under arrest, Sheriff?” Sid suddenly asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “If we’re not under arrest, we’re free to go then. I know my fucking rights.”

  “Listen, you little prick.” The sheriff leaned farther into the car. “I’ve got you on trespassing and breaking and entering. Plus, we can’t find Elmer Grosslin, so you might be involved in his disappearance. If you don’t answer some questions, I’m hauling your pimply ass to jail tonight.”

  “Let me handle this, Sid,” Terry said, and then to the sheriff, “We came out here to return some photographs.”

  “Did you see Elmer?”

  Terry shook his head. “When we got here, the front door was open, but he wasn’t home.”

  “It looks like you boys broke in the front door when you found out he was gone.”

  “We didn’t break in,” Terry replied.

  “Why would we?” Sid asked.

  “To steal anything you could get your hands on.”

  “Like what? There’s nothing in there but UFO magazines and mouse shit.” Sid threw himself back against the seat. “This is really fucking stupid.”

  “The front door is torn off its hinges. Which one of you did that?”

  Terry hesitated for a second. “The werewolf.”

  Sheriff Sutton’s face grew tight. “Werewolf?”

  “We were in the front yard and heard this howling. It came running for us so we fled into the house and locked the door. The werewolf broke it down.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “It’s true,” Terry stated. “I’m not lying, sir. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Sheriff Sutton sighed. “Okay, let’s move to something else.” He produced Mr. Higgins’s .38 pistol. “Who was carrying this?”

  “Mr. Higgins. He shot the werewolf after it broke down the door.”

  Dropping out the cylinder, Sheriff Sutton emptied out the bullets into his hand. “One spent round. Five live.” He examined one closer and his eyes grew cold. “Silver bullets.” He looked at both of them. “Who made these?”

  “Mr. Higgins,” Terry answered. “He thinks a werewolf killed his wife.”

  “Where did he get that idea?”

  “A picture Elmer took the other night.”

  “This picture?” The sheriff reached into the front pocket of his shirt and removed the photograph. “Mr. Higgins gave it to me before he left in the ambulance.”

  “That’s it.” Terry nodded. “Mr. Higgins said that the creature in the picture was the same one that killed his wife. He wanted to prove he didn’t do it and asked for our help.”

  “So you two slackers filled his head with stories about werewolves?”

  “Look at the picture. What do you think it is?”

  “Just a dark shape beside a dead cow. Probably something that nutcase Elmer staged. You can get a mask like that at any Wal-Mart. They’ve got all their Halloween stuff out now.”

  “It’s a werewolf, and that picture proves it.” />
  “What picture?” Sheriff Sutton ripped the photograph into shreds and tossed the pieces into the wind.

  “Hey, that was fucking evidence!” Sid shouted.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Why did you do that?” Terry asked. “It’s our only proof we weren’t making it up.”

  Sheriff Sutton leaned back into the car. His eyes were dark pools. “I’m only going to say this once. Thanks to you two pussies and your werewolf fantasy, I’ve got a murder suspect on the way to the hospital and Elmer Grosslin missing. I’m probably going to be out all night walking over this shithole looking for the crazy coot. I’m letting you go for now, but if I hear any more bullshit about a werewolf, I’m throwing you both in jail. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Terry replied.

  Sid crossed his arms and stared out the window.

  “That goes for you, Granger.”

  “Fine. I understand.”

  Sheriff Sutton tossed a set of keys into Terry’s lap. “Mr. Higgins said to give you the keys to his truck and drive it back to his farm. Can you do that, son?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, get out of here but remember what I said. No more bullshit about a werewolf or I will arrest the both of you.”

  Terry exited the back of the patrol car. Sid followed. They crossed the high weeds until they reached Mr. Higgins’s Ford F-150, and Terry slid behind the wheel. Once inside, he started the engine and looked out the front glass. Sheriff Sutton had shut off the patrol car lights and now stood watching them leave.

  “That guy scares me,” Sid stated.

  “Let’s just leave.”

  Terry put the truck into gear and backed out onto the country road. He glanced into the rearview mirror one last time as he pulled away. The sheriff stood like a stone statue in the yard.

  The guy is creepy, Terry thought to himself.

  * * * *

  Sheriff Sutton fought back burning rage as the two boys pulled away in Mr. Higgins’s pickup truck. Under the light of the full moon, his body wanted to transform into his Wolfkin form and rip the two teenagers apart. If he had not fed on the hitchhiker the day before, it would have been impossible to hold the beast at bay tonight.

  Once the taillights of the truck disappeared over a hill, Sheriff Sutton slid into the front seat of the patrol car. He turned his gaze to the .38 pistol laying in the passenger seat and thought about the silver bullets. The Pack hadn’t faced such a threat in years. Fortunately, the old man wasn’t expected to live through the night. That just left Terry Newman and Sid Granger to worry about. They convinced Mr. Higgins that a werewolf had killed his wife. The old man didn’t know shit from werewolves before meeting those boys. That much was certain.

  He put the pistol in the glove box and shut the door.

  The Pack will deal with the two meddling teens soon if they continue causing trouble. He doubted he had scared them enough to stop spreading talk of werewolves. Teenage boys had big mouths, especially the Granger kid, but he doubted anyone would believe a couple of nerdy outcasts spewing tales of monsters in the night.

  He had a more pressing concern at the moment. One of the Pack might have been shot by a silver bullet. Uncle Johnny, as he was known to the locals, was an elder of the Clan who survived with the other Wolfkin in the wilds of Canada. Something had gone terribly wrong. Uncle Johnny should have never approached Mr. Higgins if he had the two youths with him. The upcoming Ebon Moon made it harder to resist transforming to the beast inside. Uncle Johnny may have fallen victim to the moon’s influence, which could have triggered an uncontrolled transformation.

  Sheriff Sutton left Elmer Grosslin’s property on foot. Under a sky full of stars, he crossed the dirt road heading toward the rusting oil storage tanks overlooking the farm. He found Uncle Johnny’s pickup parked behind the largest tank. Sheriff Sutton stopped his approach and sniffed the night air. The tangy essence of fresh blood wafted on the breeze … Wolfkin blood!

  Racing forward, he reached the driver’s side and popped open the door. Uncle Johnny’s body sat in the front seat with his head slumped against the steering wheel. Blood was everywhere—the seat, dash, and floorboards. Sheriff Sutton reached in and leaned Johnny back. The portly man hadn’t completely transformed to human yet and still carried some of the Wolfkin characteristics. Gray fur still lined the edges of his face. He let out a raspy breath, spitting blood from his semicanine mouth. Clawed hands clutched a bullet hole in his chest.

  “I’m dying … silver bullet,” he struggled to speak. “Higgins shot me.”

  “I know,” Sheriff Sutton replied. “He’s dying, too. Heart gave out.”

  Uncle Johnny reached out and grabbed the sheriff by the arm. Sheriff Sutton felt the sharp nails retreating back into the flesh.

  “Tell Collin and Roxie …” He coughed and spit out more blood. “They are the last … of the Pure Bloods.” His breath came in barely audible rasps. “There are no others … I’ve kept it secret from them.” He coughed again. “The last Full Bloods … must leave this cursed place … return to the forests in the north … mate again … continue the bloodline … or all is lost.”

  Uncle Johnny let out a last rattling cough and grew still.

  “I’ll tell them,” Sheriff Sutton said to the dead body.

  He stepped back away from the truck and slammed shut the door. The war between Wolfkin and humans had raged since before history, and mankind was winning. In this modern digital age of the Internet and cell phones, there was no place for the werewolf. The kills were becoming harder to hide and the Wolfkin teetered on the edge of extinction. If what Uncle Johnny had gasped in his dying breath was true, Roxie and Collin bore the last of the bloodline.

  Sheriff Sutton stared up at the full moon. Feelings of anger and sadness fought for domination within. He quelled the want to release the animal inside, to run feral through the countryside and bring down the first warm body he found. His human side was still needed tonight. Instead, he threw his head back and released a long, mourning howl that echoed across the surrounding plains and fields.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  After leaving Jess at the back door of the roadhouse, Collin shed his clothes before transforming into the werewolf. On canine legs, he raced through the backcountry leaping over barbed wire fences and crossing dark fields. Even in his beast form, he was not totally feral. His human mind still remained in control. Hunched over, he loped on all fours and kept to the shadows with acute senses constantly searching the countryside for human occupants. With miles to go, he wanted nothing to interrupt his foray into the night. An intense obsession drove him toward one destination, like a candle flame in the dark.

  The mother was working.

  It was time to pay the daughter a visit.

  The thought of Megan consumed him. In two nights, the beast would feed on the girl’s tender flesh under the darkening light of the Ebon Moon. As his ancestors have done for centuries, so it would be with him.

  Though his intention was not to devour the child this night, his human side needed to know how protected she was while the mother worked. Leaping another fence, he slipped into the brush lining the bank of Skeleton Creek and followed the creek bed under the cover of the overhanging trees. He kept to the shadows hidden from sight. At one point, he waited beneath a cement bridge as a car passed overhead. Once gone, he continued following the ribbon of black water that would eventually lead him to the Olson farm.

  Halfway through his journey, human voices sounded ahead and car doors slammed. He slid beneath the underbrush, sensing the area around him. Ahead lay a bend where the creek widened. Figures of several people moved against the glow of a bonfire raging on the water’s bank. The sickly sweet scent of marijuana hung in the air. A party of some kind, Collin’s mind realized deep within the body of the creature. Teenagers celebrating a local football game victory.

  One of the boys threw a beer can and howled at the moon. The empty can landed less than twenty feet away from
the spot where he waited in the shadows. He fought back the impulse to charge forward and leap amid the youths, rip into them with tooth and claw. Instead he circled around the party and continued his journey.

  A couple of miles farther, he climbed out of the creek bed and approached the Olson property. On the edge of the plowed field, he studied the farm sprawled under a full moon hanging in the sky. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful. Lights were on in both the farmhouse and the trailer in the back. He focused on the trailer house. The child would be there. Running across the field, he slid into the shadow at the back of the barn. From the new vantage point he studied the lights in the trailer.

  Give me the child, the beast demanded deep inside. Let me feast upon her flesh.

  No! Collin responded. The moon has not yet darkened.

  Give me the child!

  He left the shadows and crossed to the side of the trailer house. Beneath the lighted bay windows, he crouched and listened against the wall. Through the sheet metal and insulation came the sound of movement and breathing. The child was in the room beyond. The creature’s mind twisted inside at the thought of being so close.

  I must see her!

  It’s too dangerous.

  i must see her!

  The mind of the beast pushed his human consciousness aside. Now in full control, the creature slowly rose and peered in through the bay window. Lit by a fluorescent overhead lamp, the child sat at a dining room table occupied with a coloring book while a middle-aged woman knitted in a recliner in the front room. Both were oblivious to the monster watching from the darkness outside. A ravenous hunger raged at the sight of the flowing golden hair and tender young flesh of the human offspring. Its red tongue lapped at dripping saliva. From deep within the animal mind, Collin fought the creature’s urge to leap through the bay window and snatch up the child with its jaws.

  You cannot!

  But she is so close. I can almost taste her.

  In two nights you will have your feast.

  The woman turned to say something to the girl. The beast ducked below the windowsill and listened intently. Human voices, woman and child, spoke within the interior of the home. A knocking sounded at the front door. Someone entered the home. A man’s voice followed. Deciding to move, the creature continued along the outside of the trailer and stopped to hunch down on all fours at the back door. The child was so close. Reaching up with one clawed hand, the beast lightly scratched across the door’s surface.