Ebon Moon

by McDonald, Dennis

  Before reaching the blacktop highway, he glanced at the dark trailer where Jessica slept oblivious to the events outside her door. She had touched something deep within him, a memory forgotten by his human side. Feelings of another woman and child lost long ago surfaced when he met Jess. He couldn’t let Collin devour them.

  Not this mother and child.

  He would stop him or die trying.

  * * * *

  Terry pressed his back against a tree hearing the patrol car engine turn over and the vehicle leave. His knees shook from having a gun pointed at him. He looked around the trunk. The sheriff’s car bounced along the rough cattle trail toward the highway.

  Terry grabbed up the walkie-talkie. “Sid?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sheriff Sutton’s the werewolf. I just saw him climb naked into his car. He had a bandage on his leg where I shot him.” Terry took off running toward the farm.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” Sid came back.

  “He’s getting away in his car. We’ve got to follow him. Get to my truck. Now!”

  He put away the radio and pushed his chubby body to move as fast as it could across the furrowed field toward the farmhouse. Behind him, Sid followed, a sprinting black silhouette in the moonlight. Together they reached the old F-150 parked in the front of the barn. Terry tossed in the crossbow and hopped behind the wheel. Sid climbed in the passenger seat and shut his door. Slamming the truck in gear, he pulled out of the drive in a cloud of dust. A mile ahead, the taillights of the patrol car turned right on Highway 71 toward Hope Springs.

  “Sheriff Dickhead’s a werewolf?” Sid shook his head. “I should’ve known. It makes sense. Who better to help keep a secret?”

  “He always gave me the creeps,” Terry replied.

  “Dude, turn your headlights off. Don’t let him know we’re following.”

  He shut off the truck lights and turned on Highway 71. A Harley motorcycle with a rider dressed in black roared past them going the other way. Terry kept his focus on the patrol car ahead, which had now reached the outskirts of Hope Springs. Sid brought up the binoculars.

  “Where’s the sheriff going?” Terry asked.

  “Not to the police station,” Sid answered. “He just drove by it.”

  “Okay, we’re still following him.” Terry increased his speed. He was in the thrill of the hunt, now feeling more alive than he could remember.

  “He’s turning down Highway 133 toward Morris.” Sid put down the binoculars and pulled out his cell phone from his hoodie. He started dialing a number.

  “What are you doing?” Terry looked over at him.

  “I’m calling the fucking highway patrol.”

  “What are you going to tell them?” Terry turned on the Highway 133 junction at the traffic light.

  “The sheriff’s a fucking werewolf.”

  “It’s not going to work, bro.” Terry shook his head. “No one’s going to believe us. We’re on our own, dude.”

  “Fuck it.” Sid put away the phone and grabbed the binoculars again.

  The truck raced down the dark highway past the Higgins farm where the homemade signs stood stark and morbid against the night sky and full moon. Terry pondered for a moment what had brought him to this point of chasing a werewolf in a sheriff car. Mr. Higgins was the reason. If it hadn’t been for the old man’s determination to prove his innocence in his wife’s murder, none of this would be happening.

  “The sheriff’s turning,” Sid said with the binoculars trained on the road ahead.

  “Where?” Terry asked.

  “Roxie’s.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Blake Lobato wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  While riding the Harley down Highway 71, the sheriff’s patrol car rushed past going the other way to Hope Springs. A minute later, an old Ford F-150 followed with its headlights off. He knew both vehicles came from Jess’s place. Something must have happened there, he realized. But what? He watched in the bike’s rearview to see if any of them turned around to come back his way. None did.

  Deciding to let nothing stop his deadly rendezvous with his wife, he continued down Highway 71 atop the thundering bike before turning on the blacktop running in front of the farm.A half-mile from the property, he shut the bike engine off and walked it the rest of the way in. He didn’t want the Harley’s noisy pipes to alert anyone of his approach. The farm looked empty and dark with no lights showing in the windows of the house. The only hint anyone was present was the one lit window in the rear of the trailer home. He rolled the bike slowly down the gravel drive and kicked down the stand in front of the barn.

  In the shadow of the building, he paused. He listened and smelled for any danger using his new acute senses. Everything seemed quiet. Moving cautiously along the barn wall, he reached the corner and went around. The slight scent of propane gas hung in the air while he crouched in the shadow of the large cylinder-shaped tank and studied the trailer. His Camaro sat parked in front of the house. Jess and Megan must be inside. With eyes now accustomed to the dark, he scanned the home and spotted something unusual.

  The back door hung open as if to invite him in.

  Could it be a trap?

  His pulse quickened. He had come so far and been through so much to reach this point. He couldn’t stop now. Leaving the shelter of the propane tank, he moved quietly for the open door with senses on alert.

  * * * *

  Jessica awoke in the dark bedroom.

  After the intense lovemaking, she had slipped into a deep and untroubled sleep. Gone was the paranoia that had gripped her for the last few months. The reassuring presence of Dale Sutton lying next to her had erased her fears. She sensed movement in the bed and slid her naked body closer to his. In response, he tenderly stroked her bare arm while leaning in to lightly kiss her ear.

  “Hello, love, did you miss me?” Blake whispered.

  Jessica gasped and tried to scream, but a black-gloved hand clamped down hard around her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock. This time it was no nightmare. Blake was in the bed next to her! In the moonlight streaming from the window, his gaunt face hovered an inch from hers.

  “Been playing hide-the-sausage with the local yokel sheriff, haven’t you, Jess? Don’t lie to me, love.” He sniffed. “I can smell him. His scent is on the bedsheets and all over you. You’re such a naughty, naughty girl.”

  Panic flooded Jessica’s thoughts. She had to get Blake away from Megan sleeping in the next room. Her hand grasped under the pillow for the .357 pistol before realizing it was not there. She had put it in her purse while making out with the sheriff on the couch.

  Stupid!

  “Don’t think about screaming for help, Jess. Your boyfriend ran off. I saw him heading back to town in his patrol car,” Blake hissed in her ear. “Nice of him, though, to leave the back door open.”

  She struggled against his hold over her mouth and tried to speak.

  “I’m going to take my hand off now,” he whispered. “You better not scream. You wouldn’t want to wake our lovely daughter, would you?”

  She nodded.

  He removed the glove over her mouth.

  “Blake, listen. Don’t hurt Megan, please,” she gasped. “It’s my fault. Not hers. She’s innocent. Please, she’s our daughter.”

  “Shhh.” He placed a finger against her lips. “Don’t beg, Jess. It only makes you look weak. It’ll be over soon, I promise.” He squeezed her arm hard. “Get out of the bed and put some clothes on.”

  Slipping off the mattress, she contemplated her options. Blake would kill her, she had no doubt. Her only hope now was to save Megan. Trembling with fear, she slid on her jeans and pulled down a T-shirt over her naked chest.

  “You always were a beauty, Jess,” Blake whispered while his dark eyes studied her like a snake. “I have to give you that. It’s too bad you turned out to betray me. I want to thank you for ratting on me to Internal Affairs and telling them I was a dirty cop.”


  “I didn’t.” Jess shook her head, fighting back tears. “It wasn’t me.”

  “I’m supposed to believe a backstabbing whore?” He stood in the moonlight of the window. There was something different about her husband, she realized. His eyes seemed darker, his face more virile than she remembered. He grabbed her by the arm. “Into the front room,” he ordered.

  Stepping out into the dark hall, Jessica glanced down at the light coming from under her daughter’s bedroom door. Tears flooded her vision. She wanted nothing more but to look upon Megan sleeping one last time but couldn’t risk waking her daughter. Instead, she whispered a silent good-bye.

  Sleep tight, baby. Mommy loves you.

  “Keep moving.” Blake pushed her from behind.

  Jessica staggered and nearly fell before his strong hand caught her by the arm. The grip caused her pain, but she knew it was just the beginning. They entered the shadowy living room illuminated by the moon glow coming through the bay window.

  “Take a seat,” Blake demanded and shoved her toward the dining room table. He pulled out a chair and forced her in it. Releasing his hold, he stepped back and turned on a table lamp. Dressed in his long black coat and gloves, he appeared an ominous figure standing beyond the glow of the lamp. His eyes studied her with an animal-like stare showing no hint of a cocaine glaze.

  “You should’ve killed me in Chicago, Jess,” Blake commented as he crossed to the kitchen window and yanked out the curtain cord. “Neat trick with the baseball bat, though. That hurt like hell. I was going to return the favor when I found you, but I lost the bat along the way. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through to get here.”

  Jessica trembled in fear. Tears blurred her vision as he stepped before her holding the curtain cord in his hand.

  “Blake, promise me one thing. Spare Megan. Please.” She wiped her face with her hands. “Don’t hurt our daughter.”

  “Like the promise you made to love me forever on our wedding day?”

  “I did love you then. I promise. But you treated me like shit. You abused me. Hit me in front of Megan.”

  He smiled a wolfish grin. “Sorry, but I’m a little sick in the head, love. I guess you’ve figured that out by now. I blame my old man. He taught me to do it. But that was the old me. You’re looking at the next evolution of Blake. No more drugs, Jess. I don’t need them anymore. I found something better. What would you say if I told you I’ve been given a second chance?”

  “A second chance?”

  “That’s right, Jess. A second chance at a new me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re going to find out soon enough,” he replied. “Hold out your wrists.”

  She hesitated.

  “Don’t make me get ugly,” he said with a low chuckle. “You won’t like it if I get ugly.”

  Jessica raised her trembling hands. “What are you going to do?” she asked in a voice choked by fear.

  “There’s a little magic trick I want to show you.” Blake wound the curtain cord around her wrists. “You’re not going to believe it.” He smiled. The lamplight glistened on his prominent canine teeth. “Trust me. It’ll be a surprise. You haven’t seen anything like it.”

  “Mommy?” Megan’s quiet voice spoke from the hallway.

  They both turned to see their daughter, dressed in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, standing in the dark hall. She rubbed her sleepy eyes.

  “There you are, baby,” Blake said, holding out his arms. “Come to Daddy.”

  “No!” Jessica screamed.

  Panic for her daughter’s life overwhelmed her. She threw herself out of the chair while driving her shoulder hard into Blake’s stomach. The impact didn’t move him. Instead, he responded by twisting and throwing her body across the room. She flew over the couch before crashing atop the coffee table, which broke beneath her weight. Stunned by the sudden speed and force of Blake’s response, she shook her head to regain her senses. He had never been so strong before. Spotting her purse amid the wreckage of the table, she clutched for her one chance to survive. She yanked the handbag to her, snatched the pistol out, and leaped to her feet. The stainless steel .357 magnum filled her hands still bound by the curtain cord.

  “Stay away from her!” she screamed, pointing the gun directly at Blake.

  “Jess, what are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his dark eyes on the pistol.

  “Finishing what I should’ve done in Chicago.” Her voice was calm and certain as she pulled back the firing hammer. To Megan, she said, “Baby, run out to the car and wait for Mommy there.”

  On bare feet, Megan darted past her and out the front door into the darkness.

  Standing on the other side of the couch, Blake smiled. “You can’t kill me, Jess. I’m going to keep coming back.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Jessica pulled the trigger. The large gun bucked in her hand. The first bullet caught Blake in the right eye, blowing chunks of skull and brain matter out the back of his head. He staggered against the dining room table as she fired again. The second round caught him dead center of the chest, punching a hole through his black duster. An animal-like growl emitted from his throat as he collapsed to the floor. She continued firing until the pistol was empty. Each shot caused his prone body to twitch from the bullet’s impact. Only when the firing pin struck against empty cartridges did she stop. Blake lay sprawled on the carpet in a spreading pool of blood. The shot to his eye had nearly blown off the right side of his face.

  Jessica dropped the pistol to the floor and used her teeth to unwind the curtain cord around her wrists. Grabbing up her purse, she exited the trailer into the cool morning air. Megan stood at the passenger door of the Camaro with tears streaming down her face. Seeing her mother, she ran to her arms hugging her tightly.

  “Is Daddy dead?”

  “Yes, baby,” she replied with her voice surprisingly calm. “Get in the car.”

  Megan remained quiet as they climbed into the Camaro. Starting the engine, she looked over the trailer. Both the front and back door to the home hung open now. She would leave it like that. Jessica knew her next course of action. Report the shooting death to Sheriff Sutton.

  She had no reason to run scared anymore.

  Blake was dead.

  SUNDAY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  “So what do we do now?” Sid asked from the passenger seat of the F-150 parked on the shoulder of the highway running in front of Roxie’s Roadhouse.

  Terry rubbed his tired eyes. The rush of confronting and chasing the sheriff to Roxie’s had dissipated. His energy level was about to crash. He turned his attention back to studying the outside of the roadhouse. In the dark before dawn, the place was quiet and dimly lit by low interior lights. The sheriff’s patrol was the only vehicle visible in the parking lot.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Get a closer look, I guess.”

  “Dude, you’re not going over there?”

  Terry grabbed up his crossbow from the floorboard. “You stay here and keep the walkie-talkie handy if anything happens.”

  “Did you forget there’s a fucking wounded werewolf in there? There might be others, too. Roxie’s could be their lair.”

  “I have to find out.” Terry popped the door latch. “I’m just going to scout around.”

  “You’re nuts.” Sid shook his head and glanced toward the bar. “Leave the truck running.”

  “I’ll leave the truck running in case I need a quick getaway. Just don’t drive off and leave me.”

  Terry shut the truck door quietly and stepped out in the cool night air. Hanging low in the night sky before dawn, the full moon lit the landscape in a silvery hue. He hefted the crossbow, kept to the shadows of trees running along the edge of the parking lot, and headed toward the darkened roadhouse.

  * * * *

  In the gaudy glow of a neon light, Roxie quickly spread a plastic tarp over the top of the bar as Collin lifted the wounded sheriff and eased his
naked body down upon the makeshift bed. The gauze bandage wrapped around his thigh was soaked with blood.

  “What happened?” Collin asked, turning on an overhead light.

  “One of those damn teenage boys … shot me with a silver-tipped arrow,” Sheriff Sutton replied, grimacing in pain.

  Roxie pulled apart the wad of gauze and examined the wound. “It’s bad,” she announced. “The arrow must have nicked an artery. It’s still bleeding.”

  “Damn!” Collin cursed. “You let those two teenage punks do this to you?”

  Sheriff Sutton laid his head back on the tarp. “I had no idea they … would be this big of a threat.”

  Roxie felt his forehead, which was clammy and cold. “He’s suffering from silver poisoning. There’s no way he can heal the damage.”

  “Unless he transforms and feeds again.”

  “He’s too weak.”

  “He won’t be when the Ebon Moon takes place tonight,” Collin replied. “If he feeds during the shadowing of the moon he can regain his strength and power.”

  “If he does not, he will die when the eclipse passes.”

  “Either way, he is of little use to us in this condition.” Collin patted the sheriff on his bare leg. “Did you hear me, Sheriff? You have to feed tonight, and I have just the person in mind.”

  “Please … leave Jess and her daughter … alone,” Sheriff Sutton pleaded.

  “Sorry,” Collin replied. “You had your chance to bring us the two teenagers. You failed miserably. We continue with my plans for the feast tonight.”

  “The wound needs another bandage,” Roxie stated. “I have nothing to use.”

  “There’s a trauma kit … in the trunk of the patrol car,” Sheriff Sutton said.

  “I’ll get it,” Collin said, stepping for the front door.

  “My clothes, too … in the front seat,” Sheriff Sutton added.