Blood Moon Cat Clan

by Bevill, C. L.

  Blood Moon

  A Cat Clan Novella

  C.L. Bevill

  _

  Published by C.L. Bevill at Smashwords

  Copyright 2012 by Caren L. Bevill

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Blood Moon is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  _

  This novella is a companion piece to the Moon Trilogy and the second in the Cat Clan novellas.

  The order is:

  Black Moon

  Amber Moon

  Silver Moon

  Harvest Moon

  Blood Moon

  _

  Much appreciation to Mary E. Bates, freelance proofreader of ebooks, printed material, and websites.

  Contact her at mbates16@columbus.rr.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  About the Author

  Other Novels by C.L. Bevill

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter One

  It is bad luck to see a white cat at night. - American Superstition

  The Lake Charles Trail located in the Holy Cross Wilderness wasn’t the easiest trail for Sage Ingram to access. About seventeen miles out of the mountain town of Eagle, it was tucked away in the Rockies, down a twisty, turny road. But she was working her way through a series of trails, starting with the letter A, and she’d hiked her way through to L; therefore, the Lake Charles Trail was the L she would take.

  Her beat-up Toyota Corolla didn’t want to make it all the way, but it loyally putted its way up the inclines with only a mild protest in the form of a chugging noise not normally heard. She’d stopped once to check under the hood. Her handy secondhand, repair manual didn’t help overly, but it did reassure her that her car wasn’t about to heave dramatically and fall over dead on the side of the road.

  Sage made the trailhead just as the skies to the east were beginning to turn pink.

  It was an odd weekday off from her college classes, and Sage needed a little time to herself. Her roommates were busy and couldn’t come, but she told them where she was going and when she would be back, just in case she heaved dramatically and fell over dead on the side of the trail. Or perhaps if she slipped on shale and took a header down the side of a steep hill.

  Sage wasn’t worried. She often hiked by herself. The vivid glory of the Rocky Mountains was a welcome relief to the damp, cold air of Seattle. Parking at the trailhead near a blue Suburban and a tan Wrangler, she loaded her prepared pack on her back, locked her car, pocketed the keys, and began a welcome respite from worrying about how she was going to pay for her next semester of college.

  Working at a convenience store paid minimum wage. Attending college classes and living in an apartment with two other students cost more than minimum wage. Her parents weren’t in a position to give her a dime, although Sage’s mother, Debora, occasionally sent her wrinkled-up twenty dollar bills in dirty envelopes.

  Sage suspected her mother was sneaking the money from Sage’s father’s wallet. Sage wouldn’t complain nor did she dare send the money back in case her father, Philip, intercepted the envelope and demanded an explanation from Debora. More likely than not, Philip would beat it out of Debora, and Philip had ordered Debora never to speak to Sage again.

  Taking a deep breath, Sage held it and then expelled it. She couldn’t save her mother. But she’d saved herself. Colorado wasn’t all the way across the country from Washington, but it was far enough to dissuade Philip from visiting her.

  Mama could leave him, Sage thought violently. She could pack the battered suitcase she’d gotten as a high school graduation present from Grandma, and she could go anywhere, away from Dad’s short temper and brutal fists. And…shit.

  Sage knew her mother. Debora took the violence and accepted it as her due. But Sage wouldn’t play that game. One day Debora would see the light and come to live with Sage. They would make their way, but Sage needed to ensure for her future. To that end, she scrambled for funding. She applied for multiple grants and scholarships. She scraped every extra penny together and even sold plasma once or twice a month. She dumpster-dove for clothes and occasionally food. She hadn’t become a complete freegan yet, but it was always an option.

  But Sage needed a moment to herself. She needed the splendor of nature. It didn’t cost a dime other than gas money to climb to the top of a mountain range. So she hiked. The letter A had been a great place to begin. She didn’t know what she would do when she got to Z, but there were many trails near the Denver metroplex where she lived. Something would occur to her.

  With the onslaught of hard physical activity, Sage began to let her worries go. She concentrated on the mechanicalness of her pumping lungs and the actions of her legs. She gazed at the trail ahead of her and planned each movement in sequence.

  At last Sage felt the peace she needed. She was alone on the trail. She’d seen two vehicles at the trailhead, but she hadn’t seen another human around. An hour into her hike, she stopped to drink some water from the old milk jug she used as her water container. It wasn’t a fancy bottle from REI, but it had a screw-on lid and she’d washed it thoroughly before using it for water.

  Sage let the water settle in her stomach as she paused on the trail. The forest was still thick on this part of the trail. It led through a valley which eventually ended up at a remote lake on the southwestern side of Pika Peak. To the southeast of the lake was Fools Peak. The lake was lovely and isolated and typically too far a hike for most day trippers. She would hike the five miles in, spend the night, and head back in the morning in time for her midmorning abnormal psych class.

  Sure, my ass will be dragging, but it’ll be worth the effort. Every bit of anger and fury and guilt will be gone for a few days at least.

  The bright sun peeked through the trees to the east, casting long black shadows. Early-morning birds singing a merry note fell into abrupt silence. A moment of apprehensive premonition streamed through her body. Something was wrong.

  When Sage had come home from her swing shift at the convenience store the previous night, the moon had been full. Worse, it had been a blood moon. Sage wasn’t typically superstitious, but the reddish rings around the overblown moon made a shiver run down the bones of her spine. Something bad is going to happen.

  Her inner voice said it in the present. Pick up a stick. Go back down the trail. Something’s wrong. Something bad.

  Sage had listened to her inner voice before. Once she’d enraged Philip so much he’d come at her with a baseball bat. That persistent voice had warned her of his nearly silent approach. She’d turned as he swung, and only the arm she’d thrown up in self-defense had been broken, instead of her skull. Only the sight of the bleeding compound fracture jabbing out of her forearm had stilled Philip’s second swing. Instead, he’d thrown the bat on the floor beside her and grunted,
“Serves you right. Thinkin’ you’re better than me.”

  The hospital had asked about the injury. Sage had been succinct. “Baseball accident.”

  After all, Philip had been standing nearby, a smug look staining his face, with his beefy arm wrapped around Debora’s shoulders.

  But Sage had known before it had happened. That little voice said it. It had screamed it. And it screamed at her again. She picked up a branch and hefted it.

  There had been wind blowing through the pines. There had been the screech of a distant hawk. There had been the sound of her footsteps on the trail.

  Then there was nothing.

  Sage turned and went back down the trail. She began to hurry. She worked her arms through the straps of her backpack and discarded it while she rushed, shifting the branch into the other hand so as not to drop it. She left the pack behind without compunction. Finally, her nerves collapsed and she ran.

  The only noise she heard as she made tracks down the valley was the gusting repetition of her hectic breathing. Something made Sage turn her head, and she saw a blurred golden shape sprinting toward her; its form was an impression of predatory action charging at her. For a moment, all she could see were the shades of yellows, golds, and browns that was its fur. Muscles moved in deadly harmony as the animal closed. Abruptly, she registered the flash of teeth and brilliant green eyes intent on her and her alone.

  Sage twisted so she could aim the branch at the beast converging on her, but the act was an instant too late. It took her down. Its weight crashed against her torso; its paws wrapped about her, claws sliced against her clothing. She hit the hard earth with a massive whump, knocking the breath out of her lungs. The fact she couldn’t breathe didn’t stop her from struggling to put her hands in front of her body to keep the animal from clawing her to pieces.

  An elongated moment later, oxygen returned to Sage’s lungs in a blast of vital substance. She kicked at the beast as its paws enclosed her. Panic set in as it roughly sniffed at her body.

  Checking out how brecky smells?

  Sage threw out a desperate fist and caught it in its maw. It snarled at her. A large paw scooped under her, and she was flipped to her stomach. Its weight crushed her to the dirt. Panic turned into nearly mindless hysteria.

  Virtually helpless, Sage tried to get her knees under her. She fought to get a limb free, expecting to feel claws or teeth ripping into her at any second.

  The animal bit her leg just above the top of her hiking boots. It shredded her jeans as its significant teeth sank into her calf. It brutalized her flesh and shook it as if it was a toy. Sage found enough air to shriek. The intense jagged pain made her heart feel as though it might explode. Her other leg shot out and kicked the animal in its head.

  There was another vicious snarl, but the pressure at her leg abruptly vanished.

  Sage continued to flail about until she realized the animal was no longer biting her. Its weight no longer rested upon her. She flipped over, panting with the pain shooting through her flesh. One hand reached for her calf as her frantic eyes searched about.

  Crap! Crap! Crap!

  Sage managed to sit, and wrapped her hands around her torn calf. Blood spurted through her fingers. She whipped her head about, searching for the animal.

  Nothing.

  Slipping her coat off, Sage pulled her outer shirt off. It was March, and the mountain air was still chilled, although she certainly didn’t feel the cold at the moment. She used the dull Buck knife in her pocket to shred the shirt into strips.

  The strips became a tourniquet and a small branch the device to tighten it. Her fingers were clumsy with blood loss and shock setting in. She only paused to put her coat back on, not bothering with the zipper and snaps.

  Sage awkwardly stumbled to her feet. She checked the disposable cell phone in her pocket. There wasn’t a signal.

  The larger branch she’d grabbed as a weapon became a crutch, and Sage began to work her way down the valley.

  Not twenty minutes later, she began to feel sick. She stopped to release the pressure on the tourniquet so she wouldn’t lose all circulation in her leg.

  Loss of blood? Who knows?

  There was a loud chuffing noise behind her and she spun. Black dots danced at the corners of her vision. Something else moved along the fringe of her sight. A shape kept to the darker shadows and made a hacking cough of a sound.

  “Stay away from me!” Sage yelled.

  The hacking-cough noise sounded again, much like something was amused at her defiance.

  Laughing at me.

  Too much blood loss, Sage thought wildly. She began to back away from where the sound had originated.

  The noise sounded again in another place. Sage’s head twisted. Whatever it was, circled her from the east.

  There was a moment of hesitation when Sage realized she hadn’t tightened the tourniquet again. Warm blood spilled down into her boot. Keeping her eyes up, she reached down to tighten the makeshift bandage so that the bleeding slowed to a trickle.

  The hacking cough sounded again.

  Sounds like approval.

  Sage thought she was losing her mind, and she began to move down the trail.

  Thirty minutes later, she met two hikers who carried her the remainder of the way to the trailhead. They thought she was half-dead and delirious because she talked about a huge cougar attacking her. A cougar with emerald green eyes.

  One of the hikers had a satellite phone. A rescue team met them at the trailhead.

  A nurse at the hospital told Sage she would be all right. She was barely unconscious as he spoke to her.

  On her second night at the hospital, Sage woke up screaming. In vivid, excruciating dreams, the emerald-eyed monster ripped through her stomach and pulled out her intestines.

  The day Sage came home from the hospital a petite woman named Emma Lucia waited at her door. Emma was there because she knew about the cougar that had savaged Sage’s leg. Furthermore, she knew Sage was now different. Explaining this to Sage hadn’t been difficult once Emma had shown Sage her ocelot. It was even less difficult once Sage had her first monumental change.

  In the weeks following, Sage struggled with the knowledge of what she’d become. The struggle didn’t improve once she was kidnapped by an emerald-eyed man.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter Two

  He that denies the cat skimmed milk must give the mouse cream. - Russian Proverb

  Peter Forester arrived at the Colorado Cat Clan’s compound as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The truth was he hadn’t. He’d been taking care of clan business in Oregon, following up reports of Whitelaw shifters rallying a group to strike against the Cat Clan. The reality of the reports was a single Whitelaw with a website and unrequited bitterness. Peter, known commonly as Per, had only to warn the wolf shifter of the Council before the Whitelaw decided the Internet wasn’t as wide open and welcoming as previously supposed.

  A warning and a little something else, too.

  The Council was a group of ancient weres of all types that loosely governed the were communities of the world. Typically the Council was slow to act, but once motivated, it was generally ruthless. One of their greatest peeves was revealing were secrets to the human world without cause. Fortunately for the Whitelaw shifter, the website was considered “real” fiction and marginalized by most. A warning had been sufficient, and the shifter had abruptly become a technological troglodyte.

  And his computer is now a colossally complex jigsaw puzzle with the absent hard drive a curiosity to marine life in the nearest river.

  While Per had been gone, the kidnapping of Emma Lucia, the Colorado Cat Clan’s Second, had occurred. She’d been taken by a human group who experimented on weres and also hunted them. But Wheeler, their Alpha, had rescued her, and she was back in Colorado.

  Ulric, a Baltic werelynx caught Per as he exited his car. “Per,” Ulric said as he approached, “you missed everything.”

  “I heard about Emma alre
ady,” Per responded, lugging a bag out of his truck.

  “Yeah, dude,” Ulric said as he shook his shaggy blonde locks. The Eurasian shifter was an unusual combination of his European father and Asian mother. They’d both been lynxes, but Ulric got the blonde streaked hair and the epicanthic folds of his mother, giving the large man an exotic blend of both. “But Emma and Wheeler…you know.”

  Per smiled. Ulric was like a freewheeling surfer boy, and it didn’t matter that the nearest waves were seven hundred miles away. “Emma and Wheeler what?”

  “Wheeler went insane,” Ulric said, looking around to see if anyone was listening in the parking lot near the mansion.

  Per already knew about Wheeler and Emma. He’d been with Wheeler when the Cat Clan’s Alpha first scented his mate. Per knew Wheeler had deliberately waited for his mate to recover from a particularly brutal transition to the shifter world. Per also knew to keep the information to himself.

  “Wheeler yanked the door off Emma’s jeep and threw it a couple hundred yards into a lake in a public park,” Ulric whispered. His slight Baltic accent grew thick with the excitement of imparting need-to-know information with a fellow clan member. “There were humans around. Then he shifted in public. Humans were talking about lion sightings for the rest of the week. There was even a blurry picture from a smart phone.” He heaved a breath. “Good thing they decided it was probably a cougar who’d wandered into town instead. The human on the lake who first saw Wheeler was drinking, so the poor bastard looks like an idiot. I mean, the human, not Wheeler,” he added hurriedly.

  “Of course,” Per agreed.

  Ulric stared at Per suspiciously. “You sound like you know this already.”

  “Know what? You haven’t said.”

  “Wheeler mated with Emma.”