Blood Moon Rising by Terra Chang

Chapters: 1 2

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Date: Sun, 5 May 1996 15:07:30 -0500 (CDT)

X-Sender: kaychang@mail.eden.com

To: max@maxie.com

From: kaychang@eden.com (Kay Chang)

Subject: (story) Blood Moon Rising 1–1/2There are some situations and language you might not like in this story. Irate it ‘R’BLOOD MOON RISING

Prologue

The Bloodhills Cemetary was very quiet, very still on this rainy day.It was late night, three hours until dawn. A dark, lean, shadowy figure madeits way across the graveyard, unnoticed by even the owls perched on thebranches of the trees. It made its way silently to where a small,nondescript marble headstone stood guard over an empty grave. It brushed thedirt away and stared at the lettering on the stone:

“In Loving Memory Of

Dear Friend

Jacob M. Clawson

3239 – 3265

I will always be with you.”

A tiny, bloody teardrop splashed down onto the letter, briefly marringthe word “you.” The figure hastily wiped it away. Even though when the sunrose, the blood would burn away, he couldn’t chance anything.

So long ago it had all happened. It was now 4790, over a hundred yearspassing since this tomb had been constructed in his name. And yet he couldremember his friends, if he closed his eyes long enough.

He suddenly turned from the grave and made his way towards another partof the graveyard. The part of the now-famous Briggs-Furlong clan.

He went to the famous first couple of the clan: Chance Furlong andCallico Briggs, called Callie by her close friends and many buisness associates.

For a moment, he knew an undescribable anger. At his maker, at himself,at the two that now lay in the earth, dead, their bodies undoubtedly alreadyrotted away to nothingness.

He should be here too! He shouldn’t be standing here, this unnatural,strange thing, he too should be lying in the earth.

The bitterness and anger slowly faded into a sort of quiet numbdespair. They were gone. Their children’s children’s children and so on wereburied here as well.

He studied his best friend’s tomb. In those last moments of life–withhis wife beside him, dying as well, breath coming in tiny, heavinggasps–did he remember his friend, the Jake that he had known? Did heremember the old days of flying high in the jet, winning the admiration ofnearly everybody in the city? Did he remember that Jake? Or the Jacob thathad come many nights after his initiation into this world? The evil demonthing that looked so much like his old partner and friend?

Finally, he felt the warning tugs that signalled dawn was on its way.He walked away, sadly, slowly away from the two graves. He had attendedtheir funeral. A midnight funeral that Chance had insisted on. Jake knew, hehad been there when his buddy, pale gold fur now totally gray, had shoutedat the mortician “My best friend died at midnight, he was buried atmidnight! I want to do the same, d’you hear me?!”

Of course, there was nothing the mortician could do about *dying* atmidnight, but he could *bury* him then.

It had touched him that Chance wanted to honor and remember him in thatway. So he had come to the funeral. He had thrown a handful of black dirtonto the twin coffins, and after the graves were about half-filled, he threwin a boquet of white, red, and black roses as a sign of grief. White for theinnocence lost, red for the blood, black as a sign of mourning for theirpassage.

Jake went straight towards his lair, the remains of what had once beenthe office building of the old Megakat Salvage Yard. He knew that by doingthis, he was clinging to the past, but he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’tbring himself to shut the door on the place, condemn it to the utterloneliness and depression broken abandoned old buildings seemed to bring outin one’s heart.

He went down into the hangar, where his coffin now rested. He openedthe lid and was about to get in, when an idea hit him.

Quickly, he went to the rotting old lockers where his old flight suithung. He tried to ignore the one next to his, the one with “TB” written infaded black marker, and out of his own locker got a large, thin-linednotebook and a pencil.

He set it down next to the coffin and got in.The next night, the minute he awoke, he got out the book and pencil.Sitting in his coffin, knees drawn up to his chest, back resting against thehead of the box, notebook balanced precariously on his knees, he began to write.Part One: The Initiation

The wind was freezing cold, nipping at his tail and arms as he half-rantowards the car. “I thought it was gonna be ‘sunny and warm’ today,” hemuttered, making a mental note to never again trust a TV weatherman.

The day was *not* sunny; the sky overhead was gray and overcast,slate-blue clouds moving slowly across the sky. It looked about ready torain. He walked faster.

Chance was waiting for him, his feet propped up onto the dashboard, theradio blaring out some song but Someone-or-other and reading a comic book.Was he singing along with the words or not? Jake couldn’t tell, it was tooloud to understand. He opened the door and stood back, allowing the icy gustof wind that had been bugging him to hit Chance full force.

“Ackpth! Hey, what the . . ?” Chance sputtered as he lurched forward insurprise, comic fluttering to the floor of the truck as his hand hit the carhorn and a loud *BEEP* filled the almost-empty lot. He looked up to see Jakelaughing silently. “Crud, Jake, *warn* me when you’re gonna try to kill menext time, okay?” he asked as he tried to salvage what was left of his dignity.

“Why? You never warn *me* when *you* do something like that,” Jakereplied as he slid into the seat of the truck and slammed the door shut.Damn door–it was obviously broken, it wouldn’t close properly unless oneslammed it as hard as one possibly could, which wasn’t very good for therest of the truck . . .

“That’s different,” he said huffily. “I’ve got permission and–”

“And I don’t?” Jake snorted. “That’s a weak one even for you, buddy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The truck engine groaned and complained when he firstturned the key, but finally it grudgingly started with a rough jerk forward.

Jake pitched forward slightly with the truck’s lurch. “Crud. With allthe work we do on this thing, and it *still* can’t start without pushing usforward.”

“Hey!” Chance poked him in the ribs playfully. “Waitamintue Mister.*You’re* the one always tinkering with the stuff. Anyway, you should be gladwe were able to fix it up enough after what happened with Mutilor . . .”

Jake groaned. “Do not even *mention* him. D’you know how hard it is towork with only two thirds of a truck? Not to mention that even though Imanaged to fix it, there will be no more ThunderTruck.”

Chance shrugged. “Hey, s’okay with me. I like flying the Turbokatbetter anyway.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Not to mention with the Turbokat I don’t have toworry about if *you* do some crazy twist on the jet I don’t hafta worryabout flying off or outta the jet.”

Chance gave him an “I don’t know you” look and suddenly pushed the gaspedal as hard as he could.

“Whoa *h*ey!” Jake was pitched forward again, but before he couldcomplain, there was another lurch and another, showing Chance had nopatience for this. He gave up and sat back in his seat, folding his armsover his chest and pretending to sulk. But he couldn’t, not for long. Theyalways did this, it was part of their relationship. If they stopped–well,Jake would not know what to do. Anyway, he could always get back at Chancelater–probably through the swimming obstacle course. Even though Chance hadlearned how to swim, he still hated the water as much as any unevolved catwould. If he had to swim, though, he would try to keep it with his headabove the water–he felt safer that way.

And that was where Jake could always beat him, hands down, period.

Chance always insisted that he could beat Jake whenever he wanted to,but he felt that his partner should have at least *one* thing that Jake wasbetter at. (Not that Jake believed a word of it. But he was used to Chance’sboasting and had only replied, “Yeah, that’s nice, what*ever* you say . . .)

***

“Moira . . . are you sure?”

The tall, blond furred, blond haired, seemingly young female katwhirled to confront the man behind her. Her brother, though she hated toadmit it. They were both tall and very thin, almost to the point ofemacition, with deep, almost sunken eyes and dark, brooding personalities.The only two main differences were gender and coloring. She was both blondin fur and hair, and her eyes were a tawny color, almost golden. Her brotherwas dark, black hair, black fur, midnight eyes. And their names, as well.”Moira” in the language of the Old Ones meant “Daylight Serpent.” His name,Valtoru, was “Dark Death.” Very fitting, for both of them.

Moira scowled at her brother. “Of course I am sure, Valtoru. Unlikeyou, I plan my ideas; all of my thoughts are carefully considered.” Shebegan to pace like a caged animal. “What I am *not* sure of yet,” she saidsoftly, almost as if to herself, “is *who* I will choose. I am not certain yet.”

“Then just go observe them, Moira,” Valtoru said calmly, with a touchof caution. Moira had a very volatile temper, one single word could set heroff. “By observing the mortals, you learn more of their customs and find theperfect canidate.”

Moira turned her head to look at him, eyes half-lidded and dark. “Isaid I was not sure, brother,” she said softly, a danger sign. “I have twochoices. I know how I will trap them. I just do not know which of the two ismore worthy of it.”

“And who are these two you have picked?” Valtoru was not very intrestedin who they were, but of how to warn them, of how to protect them from themad schemes of his sister.

“I do not know their mortal names–but their Old Names are clear. Thereis Jakobil, there is Terezo. I do not know which.”

“Ah,” was all he said in reply.

* * *

“Home sweet home. Or should I say, ‘Yard, sweet yard’?”

Jake groaned. “No puns, please, Chance.”

“Why not? Litterbin is pure pun!”

“How would you know? You never pay attention whenever it comes on!”

Chance put a mock sincere hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Believe me,buddy, I *know* these things.”

Jake waved his hand off. “Uh-huh. Sure ya do.”

He pretended to be hurt. “What? Don’t believe me?”

Jake grinned. “Chance, anyone in their right mind would not trust you.Don’t you know that? Of course, you know what that says about *me*.” He wasjoking, of course. He trusted Chance with his life, no matter what. Therewere precious few people who were like that, and Jake knew he was lucky thatChance was his best friend.

Chance threw a pillow from the couch at him, knocking him out of hisreverie. “Hello? You still in there? He-llo?!”

Jake grinned and tackled him, taking him by surprise. He pushed Chanceover and hopped over him, darting towards the hangar. “Betcha can’t beat meon this course!” he called over his shoulder, answered by a “Yeah right. I’dlike to see you beat me!” and the sound of footsteps behind him.

Ordinarily, they would have noticed the sudden and silent bolt oflightening thread its way across the gray sky. On guard, they would haveseen a black hole open in the sky and a small, slender figure come floatingout of it.

But they didn’t. And, looking back on that moment, Jake would cursehimself for being so foolishly caught off-guard.The sound of the alarm cut into Chance’s hearing just as he was aboutto volt over a pit of sand, making him stumble and the pole fell backwards,landing him on his tail. “Ow.”

He looked up to see Jake grinning, and held up a hand to forestall thejibe that was coming. “Don’t say a word. Go see what Callie wants while Itry to stand up, okay?”

Jake snickered but did as he was told. There was something wierd inCallie’s tone of voice–she sounded . . . bored. Her voice was dead.Usually, when she contacted them, her voice was urgent, worried, breathless.But now, dull and totally bored. “Um, what’s wrong, Miss Briggs?”

“Oh. Hey Razorrr,” she drawled from the other side. “I kinda, like,y’know, need help dowwwn heeeere. Like, I’m in a church. The one onnnnnnnMegaC Drive. Y’knooow where thaaaat isssssssssss, don’t youuu?”[side note: when Callie draws out a word, it's like when you're trying notto fall asleep and talking at the same time. Hope you know what I mean]Jake nodded, confused. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

But Callie had already hung up.

::That’s strange,:: he thought as he slowly made his way to Chance, whohad finally managed to stand up, but was still wincing in pain from histailbone. Out loud, he said, “Something’s wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” Chance snorted. “I’ve got a broken tailbone and youhaven’t told me what Callie wanted yet.”

“Well, right now your aching tail is the farthest thing on my mind.What I meant is, Something’s wrong with Callie. I mean, she’s not actingherself!”

“Huh? Whadaya mean ‘she’s not acting herself’?”

“Well, she’s *bored*, for one thing.”

“Well, that’s ’cause *you* answered, and not ol’ T-Bone.”

“I’m serious Chance. I’m worried. It’s not like her. She’s at the oldchurch on MegaC Drive. C’mon, move! We haven’t got all night!!”

Still grumbling, Chance lurched after his friend. ::Oww . . . my tail .. .:: was all that he could clearly think about as he reved up the jet andguided it out of the hangar.

Now, the church on MegaC Drive has always been the center of manymodern and urban horror stories, usually about the last priest of thechurch, Abner Qui. Some said he haunted the place, some said that the ghostsof the people he had supposedly sacrificed in the name of religion hauntedit. Whatever was really true, it was the perfect place for a trap.

***

Moira studied the sky above her, where were her chosen ones? Behindher, bound and gagged, lay a wide-eyed Callie. The drug had worn off, it hadan annoying habit of doing that. But that didn’t matter, she already hadwhat she wanted. Her chosen two were on their way . . .

***

They landed, not very gracefully, on the grounds before the church.

“Ow . . . if you ever *not* had a smooth landing, this would be it,”Razor complained as he got out of the jet, rubbing his tailbone like Chancehad a few minutes earlier.

“Now ya know how *I* felt,” T-Bone muttered under his breath, followingRazor into the church.

Razor cautiously opened the door. “Miss Briggs?” he called. “Hey, MissBriggs, we’re here! What’s the problem?”

No answer.

T-Bone gave his friend an annoyed look. “Don’t tell me you’re makingthe whole thing up, buddy.”

“I’m not! I swear, she said the church on MegaC Drive . . .” Razorstarted to protest.

A sudden, extremely loud *creak* came from upstairs and both of themjumped.

T-Bone swallowed nervously. “Hey, it’s comin’ from upstairs. Y’knowwhat they say about this place?”

Razor gave him a sharp glance. T-Bone had never been one for horrorstories, and anyway, he had always seemed to ignore the stories about othersupposedly haunted places in Megakat City.

“They say that the priest lived upstairs; and that he died in his ownroom. They say he was murdered in some strange way; his body all mutilatedand a gaping hole in his chest where his heart should have been.”

“Chance, this ain’t exactly the best time to tell fairy tales,” Razorsnapped at his wide-eyed friend.

“But Razor, that sound came from *the very room they said he died in*!!”

Razor shrugged, though his heart increased slightly. “So? Look, I can’tbelive this is the no fear T-Bone talking here! C’mon, let’s go see ifCallie’s up there.” He tugged at his friends arm. T-Bone followedreluctantly, all of his instincts screaming at him that there was somethingwrong. He remembered Jake’s words earlier: “Something’s wrong with Callie .. . she’s not herself.”Moira heard them coming up the stairs, big heavy mortal footsteps thatechoed throughout the silent church, affecting her sensetive hearing. Shewinced at the sound of someone stumbling and a whispered curse that shepretended not to hear. She looked up at the portrait above her.

It was a man, wearing an army uniform of the old days during the GreatWar. There was a look of undescribable cruelty in his face, and awicked-looking knife cut slashed across his right cheek. In his arms he helda red leather bound book, with strange golden characters written across thefront.

She lifted her arms and began to chant:

“Ylo meturial skowlja verdi

Mlkhja Moira dy Lakrtas!

No panman llewyo sokaoja!

Liserp wekrl!”

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