Blood on the Moon - serialised EXCLUSIVE for Steemit! - 85

Blood On The Moon Cover

Amazon link

My third novel was finished and published in time for Halloween 2016 and I had a launch at Waterstone's at Sheffield.

The full book cover, done by the wonderful, talented, brilliant Paul Mudie

Other Images from Pixabay or Google (Free Usage)

---

It was only later that Erzsébet thought to ask her what she had actually said that she found out she hadn’t misheard.

The four Wolves stood their ground and slashed at belly and throat hand over fist until the last ‘rioter’ lay ‘quelled’ at their feet.

Vladimir had taken off at a run long before the final minion had gurgled his last breath but Paul was determined to find him and bring him to justice.

Red searched through the bodies. She didn’t know what for until, in a pocket, she found a syringe that had survived the skirmish.

She heard Phelan’s yell for Paul to come back but she had more to think about than one rogue Wolf escaping. It wasn’t as though Darius would be able to come after her or Erzsébet, and Phelan was well-known as loyal to the Lycaeon.

Paul on the other hand was surely heading for trouble if he went into Darius’s lair. He had been a trusted member of staff and Darius would be ready to exact his revenge on him if only because there was no way of getting to the ones that he really wanted to lay his hands on.

Red glanced up at the tops of streetlights and wondered about the CCTV footage.

She grimaced at the thought of getting the footage removed before anyone had chance to put a pirate copy on Youtube.

Not to mention the officers that must have been watching what would at first appear to be the live coverage of something from the making of the latest horror flick.

Then her mouth curled into a wry grin and Erzsébet asked what she found so damned funny.

“Take a look up there.” She pointed to the CCTV cameras, mounted on streetlights.

“Oh fuck.” Phelan said as he saw what she was pointing to.

“Yeah, that’s going to be a good News Bulletin or perhaps a documentary: When Werewolves Attack.”

“Forget it, there’s nothing we can do about that now. We can only hope that Victoria finally realised what you were doing and pulled some strings.” Erzsébet said.

What the Wolves could not possibly have known was that a few streets away, even as they were amassing, the CCTV HQ switchboard had been lighting up with calls from members of the public, alarmed at what they thought was an extension of the riots that were on-going in London and just beginning in other cities across the country.

Only one call of importance got through that night, the rest of the calls were disconnected as a mysterious and inexplicable power surge shut down the CCTV network and the banks of lights and monitors blinked off as though someone had flicked a switch.

The call had been passed to the senior officer and he was the one that operated the switch. The caller had said one sentence:

“This order is from the Chief – no witnesses, no recording, no observers.”

The eyes of the law went blind then but the operators had to wait to see if their vision would return.

By the time it did, Westfield would be assured of one thing – no rioters would dare venture onto the streets to cause mayhem as they did in other cities.

The few that had seen the fight were traumatised and frightened enough to keep their mouths closed – forever if necessary.

They would not be believed, but those in the know, those that did believe the rumours, kept the fear going and the men in low places, those that organised fights on a regular basis between rival towns or football supporters, made certain that their troops were not part of any rioting – if there was to be any.

Red’s town and Lycaeon were safe.

Paul returned to the group as they were heading away from the scene of carnage.

She didn’t know how they had managed it but The Crew had not only cleared up the bodies but they had managed to commandeer a fire engine and were washing away the blood and traces of the battle that had been waged on the back streets of the medium-sized town.

Red knew that Vladimir was out for her blood, he had been since she had executed his father.

She wasn’t certain of his competence or determination but she did know that he was not his father in fearlessness.

Vitya had faced his certain death at her hands with his chin held high.

That positioning had helped the execution no end because she had managed to tear out his throat with one swipe of her clawed hand and she had felt immense satisfaction at the surprise in his eyes as he saw her bloody hand holding his windpipe and other essentials way before he was ready for her attack.