Blood Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  “This time I’m prepared. I’ll make sure of it.” He opened the door.

  “You stubborn son of a bitch,” she spat at him. Jason spent one long moment staring at her, then turned and left the room. Rose spent the next few minutes fuming before she followed him out.

  Everyone was awake and there was a great commotion in the room. She paused in the doorway and leaned against the frame. The younger boys were arguing with Jason.

  “We’re going with you. We want our revenge too. The hunters destroyed everything I ever had,” Slater shouted. Rebel nodded beside him.

  “No. You’re not going, and that’s final.”

  “Fuck you.” Rebel said. “The hunters killed our parents. We have a right—”

  “You have the right to sit down and shut up,” Glen said from across the room. “You are too young and you do not understand what’s going on.”

  “We can fight!”

  “No, you can’t,” Jason said. “You’re staying here, and that’s final.”

  Cheyenne, who had been sitting on the couch with Claire, stood. “Boys, listen to me. I know you want to fight, but you’re seriously out matched. You are too young to face a full-blooded, full-grown werewolf. He’s psychotic, ruthless from what I’ve heard, and he would tear you to pieces in seconds. You can’t go, and to make sure you’re not going to be heroic or stupid and follow, I’m staying here to make sure of it.”

  “Good idea, Cheyenne,” Glen said.

  “Oh, come on!”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yes, we are serious, now sit down and shut up,” Jason said. “Have we got a plan?” he asked as he turned to Glen.

  “Claire drew us up a map and gave us directions to where the headquarters is. It’s an old auto parts warehouse…”

  “It’s the least I could do,” she said from the couch. Her ankle was still swollen. Cheyenne had resumed what she was doing before, bandaging it.

  “And we thank you for that.” Glen nodded at her. “You, Davis and I are going to—”

  “Davis?” Jason curled up his lip as he looked at him. Davis threw a glare in his direction.

  “Yes, I’m going. Simon has a lot to account for, and I want a piece of it.”

  “It would be only right,” Glen answered.

  “That’s not fair,” Rebel exclaimed. “You’re letting him go!”

  “Because he’s an adult. You’re still a pup. Sit down and shut up!” Glen shouted back at him.

  Rebel quickly obeyed, but not without grumbling. Aurora put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he twisted away from her.

  “Hey, cousin, you know that rhymed?” Rose spoke up finally from the doorway. In all the commotion, no one had noticed her. He grinned at her.

  “So it did.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said. Jason immediately stepped forward.

  “No, Rose, you’re not. Simon—”

  “Fuck Simon.” Rose looked from person to person. “I’m going with the three of you, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. I want a piece of the action. I want to see him hurt.” She avoided Jason’s wide-eyed stare.

  “Well, you always were stubborn—” Glen said, as if thinking it over.

  “Damn straight.”

  “Well, the four of us then. We’ll go the warehouse. From what Claire has told us there are only four people there. We should be fairly matched then.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Jason asked. He cocked his Beretta. “Let’s go.”

  “Yes,” Davis stood. He had a gun clutched in his shaking hand. “I’m ready.”

  Rose stepped forward, putting her hand on Jason’s arm. He looked down at her. “So am I,” she whispered.

  * * *

  “Simon, We need to talk.” Eric’s deep voice was loud and echoed outside Simon’s office.

  Simon growled under his breath. He didn’t need this aggravation.

  “Can’t it wait?” he asked in an annoyed tone. Eric hesitated outside the door and through the smoky glass, Simon could see his shadowed bulk shift uneasily.

  “No, it can’t.” He paused. “It’s important.”

  “Fine.” Simon growled again. “Enter.”

  He turned his head away from the door, staring out at the darkening sky. Rose had escaped less than twenty-four hours ago. The trail was lost. Any trace of her scent would’ve been washed away in the rains of this morning. There was no chance he could find her and it was all Claire’s fault.

  He heard the door open and smelled the thick scent of sweat and fear as Eric entered. He raised an eyebrow to himself. Fear? Eric was hardly afraid of anything. This had to be very important.

  “Well? What is it?” He barked when Eric only stood there. He cleared his throat.

  “You’ve been acting rather strange, boss, and I’ve been wondering something.”

  “Wondering what?” Simon brought his fingers into a steeple at the center of his forehead and took a deep breath.

  “It’s mostly about Sean. I have reason to believe he wasn’t a spy or a traitor.”

  “Oh, really?” Simon sneered at his reflection in the glass and focused his attention on the hulking figure of Eric hovering behind him. “And why is that?”

  “I knew him rather well, and he never mentioned any sort of—”

  “If you were a traitor would you relay valuable info to the leader’s second-in-command?” Simon cut him off with a short, derisive laugh. “I don’t think so. Sean was a traitor. He had helped Rose and Claire escape and he’s been dealt with. Now, is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Eric was silent. Simon knew his tone was one of finality, that nothing more should be said on the topic, but Eric hesitated. He saw the big man’s arm muscles flex and Simon prepared himself for an argument. Eric had something more to say after all.

  “No, that’s not all. I want to know what’s going on with you. Something is up. You won’t tell me, and you won’t tell Alana. What’s going on?”

  For a long time, Simon did nothing. He didn’t speak and he didn’t move. He moved his hands, after a moment, and gripped the arms of his chair slightly. Then he stood. He turned to face Eric.

  “What’s going on,” he began, his voice dark and dangerous, “is none of your business and I would appreciate if you didn’t berate me over it.”

  Eric was not swayed by the tone and studied him with his dark eyes. “You’ve changed, Simon. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

  “That makes two of us,” he answered under his breath. Eric didn’t hear him.

  “There is always some plan you have, something that’s secret and we can’t know about. I’ve seen you reach the breaking point. I’ve seen the desperation in your eyes and I’ve seen other things.”

  Simon glared at him now. “What things?”

  Eric shook his big black head. “Things that aren’t normal. Why do you hunt them? Why did you take her?”

  The day Simon had always feared was now here. Eric was questioning him. Simon’s hand rested at the gun at his hip. His eyes locked to Eric’s.

  “I told you, it’s none of your business.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that?” He gave a dry laugh. “I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. You’re up to something and I am tired of you hiding it.”

  “Fuck you!” Simon exploded. He had the gun out of its holster faster than Eric had been prepared. Simon could smell his sweat and fear.

  “You’re tired of what, Eric?” Simon dared him to repeat his words.

  Though he smelled of fear, Eric quickly covered it with an emotionless mask. “I’m tired of you, Simon.”

  Simon cocked the gun back. They both knew he would do it. They knew he would not hesitate to pull the trigger.

  “Do you have a death wish, Eric?” Simon growled. He took a step forward.

  “I’m tired of your threats, your lies.” Eric stared down at him, his massive neck swelling when he lifted his head. “I’ve had it.”

>   It only took a split second to pull back the trigger on a handgun. It only took a small bit of pressure to cause a mass of devastation. But Simon didn’t have that split second. The door swung open and Alana burst in. She stopped short when she saw Simon and Eric facing off, but her pause did not last long.

  From the moment she entered, Simon knew something was wrong. He could smell her fear, along with her growing were-scent. Her change was almost complete. Her green eyes were wide and her own pistol was ready in her hand.

  “We have trouble,” she said. “There’s someone out there. I heard them.”

  “Fuck.” He lowered his gun and turned his glare to her. “Where?”

  “Outside. By the side door.”

  “Eric, go check it out,” Simon gave the order, but Eric did not move. He stared at Simon as if he didn’t believe him. When he didn’t jump right to it, Simon became livid.

  “Do it!” he screamed at him.

  Eric left with a final glare, and Simon heard a curse as he slammed the door.

  “It’s them,” Simon said. He moved quickly and grabbed the extra clips from the desk. Alana watched him nervously.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Them.” He gestured wildly to the door. “Rose, Claire, and whoever else they could’ve gotten on their side.”

  “But, that’s impossible. They couldn’t have—”

  “Believe it or not.” He stormed past her and shoved her aside. If she was expecting any change in his attitude toward her after their moment of lust, she would be sorely mistaken. He sneered at her as he passed.

  “Fuck.” She followed him. “What’s going on?”

  “Hell if I know,” he yelled back at her. He took the steps two at a time. Below them, the side door slammed shut. Eric had just departed.

  Simon was headed in that direction when the front door of the warehouse flew open and three shadowy silhouettes stood in the doorway. He froze where he was. Alana was suspended at the bottom of the steps, her mouth open in shock.

  “Simon.” A very familiar male voice sounded in the warehouse and the powerful volume struck a cord in Simon. It reverberated off the walls.

  “It can’t be—” he whispered.

  Eric moved cautiously once outside the building. He was finding it hard to keep his focus. Simon’s words rang in his ears and the memory of the barrel of a handgun in his face was still vivid. His fear was still fresh.

  Nothing frightened him, but something in Simon’s eyes changed all that. The man had become too unpredictable, too unstable. He snapped too quickly and lied too readily. Eric knew Sean was innocent and he would probably never know the true reason Simon ended his life.

  Why he was still following Simon’s orders, Eric didn’t know. His loyalty ran strong, but his patience thin. He was tired of Simon and tired of all the lies. Enough was enough.

  He moved slowly around the side of the warehouse, trying hard to keep his feet silent and stealthy. The gravel made it difficult, crunching beneath each step. He slowed and softened his breathing and tried to listen.

  There’s nothing out here. That lying bitch…

  It was the last thing he thought before the two-by-four board slammed into the back of his head and he hit the ground.

  “Oh, but it is.” Jason’s voice was dark as he stepped forward. Rose hung back, but stared at Simon with undisguised hatred. Davis moved forward with him. “I’m still alive, asshole. You should’ve finished the job.”

  Simon’s face, normally so filled with hatred and anger, was pale. A thin sweat broke out on his forehead. He stared at them, unbelieving. The woman who stood behind him stared at Rose, her eyes like venom.

  Rose sniffed the air. She smelled the tiniest bit of fear, the tangy smell of the sweat emanating from them both, but there was something that surprised her and caused her to gasp. The female was a werewolf and Rose knew she hadn’t been before.

  “The woman,” Rose whispered. She locked eyes with the red-haired female. “She’s one of us…”

  “What?” Davis hissed at her. He was the only one listening. Jason had stepped forward.

  “It ends here and now!” he shouted at Simon. Simon was silent. He looked shocked.

  “She’s a changed-blood,” Rose hissed back. “Her scent—it’s a were-scent, but not strong enough—”

  “That’s right, you bitch. I’m one of you now. Powerful, invincible.” She laughed and smiled smugly at her.

  Rose stared at her, shocked.

  “Shut up,” Simon finally said and growled in the changed-blood's direction. He was pissed. Rose stared from him to Jason. Both men had identical feral eyes. The same sneer spread across their faces.

  “I knew I should’ve put a bullet in your fucking skull,” Simon said as he took a step forward.

  Jason stood his ground. “Here I am,” he said and spread his arms wide. A sarcastic grin spread over his face. “I’ll give a free shot.”

  “No!” Rose moved in front of him and held her hands to his chest as if to hold him back. “Don’t do this, Jason—”

  “Move out of the way, Rose.” His voice was dark and low. “You know I have to do this.”

  “Yes, move out of the way, Rose,” Simon echoed. “I wouldn’t want to get his blood all over you.”

  Jason lurched forward, nearly toppling Rose, but Davis got there first. He threw a punch to Simon’s laughing face, connecting with his jaw. And that was all it took.

  Rose let out a scream. She grabbed for Jason, but he pulled free and launched himself forward. Simon held his jaw. Davis stood over him. His grey eyes were golden. Spittle dripped from his mouth.

  “You fucking asshole!”

  “Davis, no!”

  Jason pulled Davis back by the collar of his jacket. He slid across the floor. He quickly climbed to his feet. Simon still laughed.

  “Davis has developed a backbone after all—” He rubbed his jaw. Alana laughed with him.

  “You motherfucker.” Davis shouted. He fumbled for his gun.

  “He’s mine!” Jason shouted.

  “You made me kill my own mother!” Davis screamed. Rose had never seen him like this. He was completely feral. A vein bulged in his neck and his eyes were wide.

  Jason held a strong grip on him. “No!”

  “It took you this long to figure it out? You’re dumber than I thought. Yes, I made you kill your mother. Yes, I knew all along what you were—a pathetic excuse for a werewolf. I thought there would be more to you, but I was wrong. You weren’t particularly skilled. You weren’t strong. You couldn’t even kill someone. You were a fucking pussy and still are!” Simon’s voice grew louder as he spoke.

  Davis trembled. Rose stared at him in horror. He jumped forward, his hand balled into a fist, ready to punch Simon once again. He didn’t know Simon was baiting him, waiting for him to move so he could strike. Jason reached to grab him but it was too late.

  She screamed at the same moment the shot rang out.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Glen knew fighting the ex-Marine would be tough. He was a strong man. The board to the back of the head knocked him to the ground. Glen stood over him and clenched his fingers around the board and waited for him to get up. The big man didn’t stir.

  “Not that tough,” Glen growled and tossed the board aside. It had been too easy. He studied the unmoving mass at his feet and shook his head. By now, the others would be inside. It was time for him to join the party.

  He began to walk past Eric when the man’s arm shot out and a hand enclosed his ankle. It happened so suddenly; Glen was not prepared for it. With a gasp of surprise, he fell forward. His face smashed into the gravel. His knees smarted. He heard an infuriated yell. Glen tried to scramble to his feet, but he was pinned down.

  A pair of strong arms wrapped around his neck and forced his head back. Glen sputtered. His windpipe was being crushed. He couldn’t breathe. He experienced a new pain when he felt a knee dig into the base of his spine.

  Eric
panted hard and increased the pressure his arms had on Glen’s throat. He was powerful and strong. Glen saw spots before his eyes. He was going to black out. This couldn’t happen. He was a full-blood and Eric was only human.

  A gunshot rang out and Eric, for a split second, turned his head toward the warehouse. This was his only chance. Glen grabbed hold of Eric’s forearm and dug in his fingernails. At the same time, he buried his knees painfully into the sharp gravel and pulled himself to all fours. Eric almost lost his balance.

  Glen could breathe now. He gasped mouthfuls of air, using all his strength to force Eric’s forearm away. He gave a sudden lurch and Eric fully lost his balance. He toppled to the side and groaned as he hit the ground. Glen climbed to his feet and stood over him.

  “All right, fucker, you want a fight, you got one.” Glen got into a fighting stance. He smelled blood on the air and realized it was his own. It dripped from his cheek where the sharp rocks had dug into his flesh. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

  Eric hauled himself to his feet and stared at Glen with unrepressed anger. He threw down his gun and stood. He was a few inches taller than Glen, who was already fairly tall. His bulk was nearly three times the size of Glen’s wiry body. It seemed pretty evenly matched, with the consideration that one of them was a werewolf. Glen stared hard at him.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Eric asked in his gruff voice. “This should be fun.”

  And his fist flew toward Glen.

  * * *

  “No!” Rose screamed. The scent of blood was fresh and strong. Davis hit the floor in a crumpled mess. His face twisted in a grimace of absolute pain. Simon smirked over the barrel of his smoking gun. Alana laughed.

  “No!” she cried again and ran to Davis’ side. Blood oozed from a fresh wound in his upper left leg. It gushed and Rose realized with horror that a major artery must’ve been hit.

  “I’ll kill you!” Davis sputtered between gasps of pain. His eyes flashed yellow and his teeth were clenched to the point they were grinding. Rose applied pressure to the wound. His blood was all over her.