Blood Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  And that’s when all hell broke loose.

  Simon lifted his gun to take another shot, this time at the approaching Jason. Alana lifted her own weapon at Rose.

  “Keep pressure on it and stay here.” she ordered Davis. She took his hand and forced it to the wound. Simultaneous shots rang out and Rose felt a sting of pain in her arm as she ran from the gunfire. She had been grazed in the arm. Her blood ran down the length of her arm.

  The last thing she beheld before jumping behind a wooden crate was Alana’s furious face as she realized she had missed a killing blow. Simon and Jason were nowhere in sight.

  More shots rang out. She heard male laughter, someone groan and she felt her heart sink.

  Oh, Jason, fight him. Please don’t let him get you, she prayed silently. She listened carefully. Davis groaned in pain. She risked a glance toward him. It was a bad move.

  Alana spotted her and fired again. Rose gasped, ducked down just as the bullet ripped through the wood above her head and sent splinters flying. More shots rang out and Rose scrambled quickly away from her blown cover. The crate was riddled with holes. She ran fast and found cover behind another one.

  Across from her, she could see Simon and Jason. A powerful black wolf bore down on the prone Jason, who lay facedown upon the cold floor. Blood poured from slash marks on his back. Rose covered her face to hide her gasp.

  She could not see what happened next because Alana laughed near her. There was another shot. Rose moved quickly to avoid it.

  “You can run, little bitch, but you can’t hide.” Alana shrieked.

  Rose slunk along the wall. There was no more cover for her. Her blood left small droplets on the floor, making a very noticeable trail. She pressed her hand to the wound. She tried to calm her breathing. She had to think.

  “I’m one of you now,” Alana continued. She was getting closer. Rose held her breath. “I can smell you.” There was an audible sniff. “I’ll find you.”

  Alana appeared in view suddenly, popping out from behind a stack of crates. She fired two well-placed shots, but Rose was faster. She ducked and crawled along the floor out of sight.

  She knew it wouldn’t last long. Alana was close. She had only one chance. She listened, crouched down on the floor. Rose could smell her sweat, her were-scent. She was close.

  More shots fired, but not in her direction. Her heart pounded too loudly for her to hear anything else after that. She waited.

  And then the moment finally came. Alana fired one final shot and Rose heard the inevitable click of an empty magazine. She jumped forward and closed the distance between herself and Alana.

  Rose's tightly balled fist connected with the woman’s jaw. Alana dropped her weapon and stumbled back. Blood dripped from the corner of her lip.

  “Bitch!” Her green eyes were filled with rage. Rose saw them flash yellow and she couldn’t help but smirk.

  “Likewise,” she said and threw another punch.

  * * *

  Simon reacted before Jason could even think but he did exactly what Jason thought he would do. He turned tail and ran.

  Jason left the bleeding Davis and went after him. Simon ducked behind a cabinet and was out of sight. Jason scowled but followed.

  And two shots hit him before he had time to think. Simon had fooled him. He wasn’t behind the cabinet. He was behind him. Jason groaned as he fell, his hand reaching to steady himself on the cabinet. Simon laughed, the sound deep and dark. Jason hated it.

  “You fucker,” Simon taunted and gave a firm kick to his back. Jason tried to close out the pain, but couldn’t. He groaned again and fell to the floor.

  “You’re pathetic. You weren’t a match for me before and you aren’t a match for me now.” He rolled Jason onto his back. And that was his first mistake.

  As Jason felt the pressure of Simon’s boot against his side, he knew what he had to do. He lay on his back, his eyes only slightly closed. He could still see the maniacal grin that twisted the features of his face. He ignored the gunfire from nearby and waited for Simon to lift his gun.

  He did it quickly. Jason was hardly able to react before it went off. He kicked as hard as he could. The move dislodged the gun from Simon’s hand. It went off, hitting the wall and ricocheting. Simon let out a snarl and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

  “You bastard,” he shouted, spraying Jason’s face with spittle. His eyes were yellow and wild.

  He gripped Simon’s wrists. He forced his hands away from his throat and growled low. Simon only chuckled. His strength was more than Jason had bargained for. He had forgotten how strong he was.

  In the fight that left him nearly dead, Jason had been outmatched. He had allowed his wolf side to come out and it nearly killed him. A rage shift was not what he needed now. He needed some control.

  But he could not find that control when he stared into Simon’s flashing eyes. These were the eyes of a werewolf and a hunter. These were the eyes of a creature who had turned his back on his own kind, only to put the proverbial knife in theirs. These were the eyes that had coveted his Rose…

  A sudden burst of adrenaline granted him enough strength to shove Simon back. The man toppled, but did not fall. He stared at Jason, enraged.

  “Now, you’re just pissing me off,” Simon yelled.

  He lowered his head and it began. The shift was quick when Simon called upon it. His bones popped and cracked and Jason had just enough time to register what was going on. A black wolf emerged from the tangle of clothes and the look in his feral animal eyes was deadly.

  He leapt toward Jason, claws extended as terrible weapons. He screamed in pain when they sliced at him, tearing at his back. Jason could feel the flesh being stripped away. He clenched his teeth at the pain and scrambled quickly to find a weapon. Simon’s weight bore down upon him and forced him to the ground. Jason felt hot breath against his back and neck. This was it.

  His hand felt something cold and metal just within his grasp. He closed his fist around the metal pipe and he drew it close. The wolf’s snarls were loud. He could hear gun shots and a woman’s voice shouting in anger. He had no time to think of Rose now. His own life was on the line.

  Calling upon his inner strength, Jason rolled onto his back. This upset Simon, who had his weight firmly pressed to him and was moving in for the final blow. Simon stumbled, but soon regained himself and went for the throat. His jaws snapped upon the metal pipe Jason thrust forward. He drew his knees to his chest and kicked at the wolf’s torso with all his might.

  Simon flew away from him and Jason wrenched the pipe from his jaws. He had just enough time to stand before the wolf charged. Jason swung the pipe just as Simon reached him. It resonated off his skull. The wolf yelped in pain, lost his equilibrium and fell. He shook his head, yelping continuously. Jason ran. He could always savor his victory later.

  He searched the grey floor, looking for any sign of a weapon. He had lost his Beretta in the first attack. He spotted it a few feet away. He scrambled for it, but never made it.

  He had glimpse of Davis, slinking away from the middle of the warehouse to a hiding place, with a trail of blood following him. He saw Rose, locked in combat with the red-haired woman. And then he saw nothing but red.

  Pain flashed before his eyes, excruciating beyond anything he had ever felt. A heavy weight forced him to the floor. He screamed and clawed in vain at the concrete floor. The heavy breathing and snarling told him only one thing. It was Simon and he was shredding his back once more.

  This time, Jason could not roll over. Simon had him pinned, his claws buried in his back. He could smell his own blood and felt it wet and sticky all over him. He had to fight. He had to do something. The gun was just an arm’s reach away.

  He stretched out his hand, fingers closing around the grip. He began to draw it to him when teeth encircled his arm. He screamed again.

  The weight that had been pressed to his back was now lessened when Simon moved to attack his arm, but Jason was still pi
nned.

  You can’t let him do this. You can’t let Simon win, Jason told himself. He could barely think through the pain. Get it over with. You can do it.

  And the wolf within him agreed.

  * * *

  Eric’s fist was blocked by a well-placed counter of his own. Glen locked his arm around Eric’s more massive forearm and drew himself close to the man. His wiry body lent him the speed he needed. The wolf helped.

  He turned his back against Eric’s chest and threw an elbow to his neck. This caught the big man off guard. He forced Eric’s arm down with such strength that it dislocated the shoulder. Eric cried out in torturous pain and retaliated.

  Glen wasn’t expecting his other massive hand to close in on the back of his neck, gripping at a handful of his hair. A kick to the back left him sprawled again on the gravel, face down.

  “You fucking wolf!” Eric screamed.

  Glen heard a sickening pop and another cry of pain and knew that he had popped the shoulder back into place. Glen climbed to his feet and turned as a fist connected with the side of his face. He tasted blood.

  Then there was another fist and another. Glen’s head swam with pain. He saw another black fist heading toward him.

  And he grabbed the wrist with both of his hands and squeezed. The bones crushed under the werewolf’s powerful grip and Eric screamed. Glen moved in again, applying an elbow to the side of the jaw with amazing force. He felt and heard the bone crack. The only sound coming from Eric now was a garbled scream of pain.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Glen said, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he did. “But it’s over.” He gripped both sides of Eric’s head and twisted. His neck popped with a snap that sounded like a gun shot. His body slumped to the gravel and Glen wiped the blood away from his mouth with a sneer.

  The others would be waiting for him inside. He had to hurry.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alana grasped Rose’s wrist firmly with both hands. Her strength was amazing. Alana pushed Rose back, knocking her off balance. She tried to stop herself before she collided with one of the crates, but she didn’t get the chance.

  Rose hit it full on and groaned in pain. The crate toppled over and crashed to the floor, breaking open and spilling its contents everywhere.

  “You bitch!” Alana cried again. She spat her blood onto the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She bent to retrieve her gun.

  Rose let out a gasping breath. The pain in her arm throbbed. Her shoulder had hit the crate with much force. She was afraid it might be broken. When she was able to move her hand and arm, she knew that wasn’t the case. She stared at Alana’s wild eyes and forced a smirk.

  “I thought we covered that already,” Rose chided.

  Alana chuckled and raised her gun to take aim. Rose did not move.

  “You think you’re so fucking powerful,” Alana taunted. She took a slow step forward.

  Rose backed into a corner. Her only safe avenue for escaping Alana was to get past her. She narrowed her eyes.

  “I never said I was.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that shit. You were acting all high and mighty ever since Simon brought you here.”

  Rose gaped at her. Was this crazy bitch serious?

  “I don’t think so. I was locked in a fucking cell the whole time I was here. Where do you get your delusions?”

  “Delusions? Ha!” Alana laughed boisterously. “My eyes are finally open now. I see things so clearly.”

  “Do you?” Rose asked. She was surprised to find her voice trembling. Alana was backing her up against the wall. She pressed against its cold surface.

  “Yes, I do. Simon chose me. He made me one of you. He wanted me to have this power, to have this strength, to be his. Not you,” she ranted.

  She shook her auburn hair. It flew wildly about her face. She smiled and Rose thought it looked demonic.

  She’s completely lost it. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Rose answered aloud.

  Alana’s grin vanished and was replaced with fury. She pursed her lips and lifted her gun. “You fucking werewolf bitch!” And she pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened. Alana stared at the gun, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Rose grinned, knowing the gun was empty. Alana had forgotten. Rose used the surprise to her advantage and charged her.

  She tackled Alana, grabbing her around the middle and knocked her off her feet. They hit the hard floor with a heavy thud. Alana screamed in rage. Her long fingernails dug into the flesh of Rose’s arms and shoulders. The thumbnail caught in the wound from the gunshot. Rose screamed in pain.

  Grabbing a fistful of Alana’s tangled hair, she pulled her off the floor and hit her hard across the face. Blood sprayed from Alana’s bottom lip. She screamed again and grabbed at Rose, tearing at her clothing, trying to claw at her face.

  Though Alana was a werewolf, she was a changed-blood and Rose had the advantage. She had more strength and more experience. She shoved all of her weight into Alana and threw her into a nearby stack of crates. They waggled from side to side precariously, but did not fall. Rose, still holding Alana by the hair, pulled her head back and slammed her face-first into the boxes.

  When Rose stepped back, blood poured down Alana’s shirt front. Her face was covered in it. Her shaking hands went to her face, felt her nose from where the blood was gushing. It was broken.

  And then she let out an ear-piercing shriek that gradually became a snarl. Rose saw it happening. She saw the change in her eyes. They flashed from jade green to fierce yellow. Alana threw back her head and howled. She was beginning to shift.

  “Oh, fuck,” Rose whispered to herself. It was a rage shift, most definitely. If it was Alana’s first shift, and she was sure it was, it would be extremely painful. Rose’s assumptions were correct when a moment later Alana doubled over and screamed in pain.

  Her bones cracked and popped. It weakened her. Alana fell to her knees.

  “I…feel it…the power…the wolf…” she said in a strained voice. Rose watched her in horror. She had to do something. A board from one of the broken crates lay near and she seized it.

  “Feel this,” she said, and hit Alana with it.

  She used all the force she could and applied it to the back of her neck. That did it. Alana slumped forward and lay still. Blood continued to ooze from her wounds, but the shift had stopped.

  “Jason?” Rose called. She turned her head from Alana’s body and searched with her eyes and nose. She saw him, high on the catwalk, just as a naked Simon slammed him through the door of his office.

  * * *

  He called upon the wolf. Don’t fail me now.

  Jason gave into the pain of the shift. He allowed it to weaken him physically. He groaned under the weight of the black wolf that was Simon. His arm bled profusely and the pain was enormous. Just a little more and it would be done.

  With a snarl, he pulled himself to his knees. He tore his arm away from Simon’s jaws just as the change took over. His muscles expanded and grew. His clothing tore to accommodate his new, powerful form.

  He was wolf now. He could fight the black wolf. And fight he did. He threw the other wolf over his shoulder and leapt while the black wolf was prone. He slashed with his claws. Flesh was torn, blood spilled.

  But the black wolf was faster. He moved out of the way of his attacker and took a stance several feet away. His bloody muzzle curled back to reveal red-stained teeth in an angry snarl. Jason merely lowered his head and growled back.

  His awareness grew. He could smell the others in the warehouse. He smelled the female scent of Rose and the other woman. He smelled more blood. He smelled fear. He growled again, a warning to the black wolf. This would be the final attack.

  He did not need words to get his point across. The black wolf knew and didn’t care. It was a challenge of power, a fight to the death.

  It was the black wolf that moved first. He did not
charge as had been expected. Instead, he turned and ran toward the steps. He bounded and leapt, crossing the distance in a moment. Jason would not let him get away. He pursued.

  At the top of the steps, he caught him. His claws dug into the flesh of his hind leg, sending the black wolf yelping. Another slash and the black wolf retaliated. Their blood mingled and drops fell down the steps.

  Jason’s sensitive ears heard the screams of the females, but he put it out of his mind. His prey was right here and he needed his focus. Though pain blinded him, he lashed out. His claws struck metal. The black wolf had moved on.

  Something tore through him, causing so much pain and hurt. He yelped, but his yelp became a human scream as he slipped back into his weaker form. Jason struggled to see through this pain. Simon, in his bloodied human form, stood over him, a gun in hand.

  “Impressive,” he said coldly and dropped the gun. He grabbed Jason with both hands and hurled him toward the door of a room near them. Glass shattered and there was more pain as Jason went through it. He groaned. He couldn’t move. Something was broken.

  “You’re not so weak after all,” Simon said. He hit him across the face and Jason fell.

  He stumbled forward, knees colliding with the floor. He found a desk and gripped it feebly. “Bastard.”

  A kick sent Jason into the desk. He could not even groan, his breath knocked out of him. From faraway he heard voices, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. The pain was too much. This time, he was going to die. He knew it.

  Simon laughed and it echoed around them. Jason tried to climb to his feet. He did so, leaning over the desk. Simon walked around it. He snatched a handful of Jason’s long hair and pulled him over the desk.

  He fell with a crash among filing cabinets and a chair. Simon kicked at him again. Jason tried to fight back, but he could barely see. Blood was in his eyes. He could not move his arm.

  “I still say you’re pathetic,” Simon began. His face was close to Jason’s.

  Jason glared at him through the dripping blood that burned his vision.