Shadow of the moon

I was a pretty average police detective until he claimed me as his own. Sometimes I'm not sure whether I should hate or love him for that. It doesn't matter now. It's done and I have to live with it.

My story starts on the night of my big change. I worked in a large city of a couple million. We had our usual skyscrapers in the financial district, the industrial with its black smoke, and the wrong side of the tracks with its gang violence. The whole place was ringed by suburbia for those who could afford the commute, and apartments in the older neighborhoods for those who couldn't. I couldn't, so my place was uptown in an old apartment building built before my grandparents were born.

At that moment I wished I was back in that dreary place. Instead I sat in my parked police car. At my side was a grande coffee, cold and lacking in taste, but not the precious caffeine I needed to keep myself awake.

"Maria, you read me?" a male voice called over my car's intercom.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the receiver. "That's Detective Marie Selena, Randy," I reminded him.

"And that's Officer Randy to you, but why are we being formal at this hour? Nobody's listening," he pointed out.

He was probably right. The hour was near midnight, and the night was a Tuesday. Nothing ever happened on Tuesdays, even in a big city like this one. The criminals almost had an unwritten rule that Tuesdays were the days to lay their feet back and enjoy their ill-gotten loot and plan their next law breaking scheme.

As a detective I should have had a cushioned desk job in the department where I worked a nine-to-five shift, but the precinct was short on cash at that time. Well, it was always short on cash. That meant I had to do double-duty as a street cop.

I rolled my eyes. "Because somebody might be, now what do you have for me?"

"Nothing much. Got a call in a minute ago about some suspicious behavior around one of the clubs in your area."

"Which one?" "The Wolf's Den."

I snorted. "Sounds like something from a bad horror movie. Is it a strip club?"

"Nope, that's the funny thing. It's one of those hush-hush places where the place is always crowded but most of the people don't come in through the front door. The clientele's pretty rich, too, or so my sources tell me," he informed me.

"Did your source tell you how I can get into this place without alerting these suspicious guys?" I asked him.

"Nope. He knows a lot, but not even he can figure that out. As for the call, they were in the alley behind the place. Got dropped off by a black car that sped away."

"This the club owners reporting it?"

"Nope. A passerby on the street waiting in line to get inside noticed it and called us. Said he thought we ought to know."

I sighed and started the engine. "I guess I'll go check it out. You got that address?"

"Yep, 11 Lupine Street," he told me.

"Got it. Don't leave the lights on for me," I quipped.

He chuckled. "I won't. Good luck."

"Over and out."

I hung up the receiver and pulled out of the parking spot. Lupine street

was two blocks down in the red-light district of the city. People went there for a smoke of something more than tobacco and stayed for the illegal commercial moonshine. Both sides of the long, colorful street were lined with ads touting beautiful women, drinks, and oftentimes both. The doors to the establishments were wide open, and some of the wares called down from the second story windows to the prospective patrons below. Music drifted from one building to the next and mixed into something not even dub-step could create. The streets were crowded with pedestrians and cars. People shouted at each other and the single-finger salute flew high above some of the less patient taxi drivers.

I drove down the road I spotted my objective at the far end of the street on the left side. It was a three-floor building with the usual blackened windows. The front doors were shut, but the lights were on over them and in some of the upper floor rooms. An alley separated its right side from the neighboring establishment, a classy place that forked out boos to anyone willing to drink their gut-rot.

I couldn't tell what kind of a place was this Wolf's Den. No music blared past the windows and the doors opened only long enough to let the sleek, beautiful patrons slip through. A long line stood outside the building, but it didn't look like it was moving very fast.

I turned around at the end of the street and parked my car block down from the place. If there was trouble, I didn't want my car's body paint to warn the troublemakers.

I walked past the line and to the double doors at the front. A goon the size of a bus stood on one side of the doors. He wore a white wife-beater shirt with matching pants. In his large, fat-fingered hands was a clipboard and a thick pen. He sneered at a teenage couple who stood in front of him.

"Scram, kids. This isn't for you," he told them.

"Oh, come on!" the boy whined. "We've been waiting months to get into this place!"

"And you'll have to wait months longer because you're not getting in." He tapped his pen against the clipboard. "No name, no invite, no dough, no getting in. Got it?"

"Will this get me in?" I spoke up. I held up my badge to him.

The goon leaned in close and squinted. A sneer slid onto his lips. "Yer gonna have to show more than that, lady. Where's the warrant?"

I pocketed my badge into my inner coat pocket and glanced past him at the closed doors. "I left it in my squad car, but I didn't come here to have a nice chat with you. We got a call there was some suspicious people wandering around the place. You seem 'em?"

"I ain't seen nobody but who I'm supposed to see," he quipped.

"Shame. I'm just going to have to look around the place. Is there a back door?" I asked him.

He snarled. "Why won't you just get? There's no trouble around here, so why don't you take your badge and-"

The sound of a gunshot echoed down the street. People screamed and threw themselves onto the ground. The goon rushed inside and slammed the door behind himself. I heard him draw a large bolt over the door.

I drew my gun and looked for the perp. It wasn't easy discerning panicked, running people from a prospective shooter. Cars drove past at illegal speeds and people scurried out of the other businesses to see what all the fuss was about. The situation needed another twenty cops to get this wild place under control.

"Stay down and stay back!" I shouted at the gaping onlookers.

"The sound came from there!" one of the people at the rear of the line yelled. They lay on the ground, but pointed a finger down the alley that ran along the side of the Wolf's Den.

I rushed down the line and hit the corner of the Wolf's Den. I peeked around the edge and saw nothing but the usual dark, suspicious alley. There were garbage cans, bins, cardboard boxes, and the typical clapboard fence at the far end. The alley ran for thirty yards before it hit the fence and separated, going left and right. The only light came from a single bulb over the side door of the opposite building.

I slipped into the alley with my gun against my chest and my heart beating a tune a heavy-metal band would appreciate. The screaming and panic behind me receded into the background. My eyes swept over the multitude of shadows. Nothing moved. My feet crunched softly on the loose gravel and dirt.

I reached the point where the alley separated. Darkness reigned over both paths and the ten-foot tall fence loomed in front of me. I decided on the left and leaned my back against the wall of the Wolf's Den. I chanced a glimpse around the corner. That way was a dead end that stopped at an outcropping of the Wolf's Den building. The rear of the place was shaped like an L and made a small little square. The back door stood ten feet from me and had a single flickering bulb over it.

The back door wasn't what had my attention, though. My eyes fell on a form on the ground. The person wasn't moving, and they didn't have any clothes on.

I rushed over to the person. They lay face-down, and there was a gun beside them. It wasn't a typical gun. This one had an ivory handle with a long barrel like a magnum. I rolled the person onto their back. It was a man of about forty with short brown hair. His lifeless eyes stared at me. There was a gunshot in his chest over his heart. Blood still oozed out.

I stepped over him and touched the barrel of the gun. Still warm. I had the weapon, but I couldn't tell if this was murder or suicide. I turned around and studied the dead man. There was just a faint hint of gunpowder on the chest, meaning the range of the gun was farther than his arm. That pointed to murder.

Whoops

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I whipped my head to and fro, but there was nothing there. It wasn't so much I heard or saw something was wrong as I felt something was wrong. It was one of those times where all the modern tricks of humans were thrown out the window in favor of pure primal instinct.

I stood and pointed my gun at the ground with my hands wrapped tightly around the grip. My quick breathing was the only noise I heard. My heart thumped against my chest. I stepped towards the back door. The entrance was metal and windowless. I raised my gun.

The door swung open and a large shadow flew out the entrance. It landed between me and the dead man and rolled until it hit the fence. Part of the shadow sat up, and it was then I realized the shadow was two men joined in combat. The man on top had his back to me. He lifted his hand above his foe and I could see something sharp glistened on his long fingers. Claws. Impossibly long claws.

I swung towards him and pointed the barrel of my gun at his back. "Freeze!"

He spun around and snarled at me. My mouth fell agape as I saw the outside of his face was covered in fur and his ears were pointed. He had long, sharp teeth and yellow eyes. His nostrils were overly large and constantly sniffed the air.

The man on the bottom took advantage of the distraction. He pushed his feet against the snarling thing's chest and shoved him away. The man flew past me and into the brick wall. He left an outline in the bricks that would have crushed a normal man's rib cage, but he pulled himself out of the hole. The creature-man dove at me. I got off a shot into his chest, but that didn't slow him down. He wrapped his furry arms around me and crushed me against his chest. My gun dropped to the ground at my feet.

"Give me the moonstone or she dies," he growled at his foe.

The man in front of us was a man. In the weak light I could see he wore a black business shirt and matching dark pants. He was tall, almost a head taller than me, with short, sandy-brown hair. His eyes were a shimmering red and he stood straight with an air of confidence around him

that made the guy in back of me quiver. There was a sly, confident grin on her face that would've made me swoon if I was the swooning type.

"Let her go and return what you stole," the fancy man demanded. The thing that held me laughed. "You really think I'm that stupid?" "You are if you don't let her go and give back what you've taken," the

other man countered.

The man who held me shifted his weight. "Well, I'm not that stupid

and I'm not letting her go! Now just let me pass with the girl and the moonstone or-"

I didn't get to find out what 'or' represented. The 'man' in front of us used dug his toes into the ground and pushed off towards us. His speed was incredible. He covered ten yards in two seconds, an enviable speed for us cops. The well-dressed man tackled the one who held me, but not before he was able to get off a long scratch across my neck.

I cried out and fell to the ground. Something wet and sticky coursed down my neck. My blood. He'd cut deep into me. I rolled over and looked behind me in time to see the suited man pick the other one up by his neck. My attacker squirmed and garbled for mercy.

"Please! Please!" he choked out.

The man pulled a gun from his pants and pressed it against his captive's temple. "No mercy for the weak. You know that."

He pulled back on the trigger. I shut my eyes. This gun had a suppressor so the sound was muffled, but not the effect. I opened my eyes and winced at all the blood and brain matter that was splattered against the brick wall. The living man dropped the other to the ground in a crumple of dead limbs.

He turned to me.

My eyes widened and I looked around for my gun. It lay a foot away from me. I dove for it and snatched it off the ground. The man walked towards me and I lifted the gun and pointed it at him. My hand shook so hard I could hardly keep the sight on his chest.

"D-don't come any closer," I gasped.

He kept coming. I fired two shots into his chest. Like the other man, they had no effect on him. I aimed again, but by this time the blood loss was too much. My arms fell useless to the ground and I rolled over to cough out some dark, sticky blood.

The man knelt beside me and grasped my chin between his fingers. He lifted my head so we faced each other. I saw a softness in his eyes that calmed me. An idle thought of a soothing death flitted through my mind.

He smiled and shook his head. "You won't die. You're weak, but you don't live within our rules. Not yet." He leaned forward and caught my blood-stained lips in a soft, teasing kiss. The man pulled away and I blinked at him. He chuckled. "Don't fear the future, or the night. I protect my own."

He leaned down, but not for a kiss. His lips passed my face and pressed against the wound over the front of my throat. I winced at the stinging sensation of contact, but the pain wasn't as horrible as the agony I felt when he opened his jaws and bit into me. His teeth sank deep into my flesh, so deep that I wondered if he'd reached my wind pipe. I gasped when I felt his tongue flick out and stroke the deep wounds made by the other man.

A burning sensation originated from my throat and swept over me. I squirmed and thrashed on the ground beneath him. Every limb, every molecule of my being felt as though it was on fire. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer to him, allowing him to push his teeth and tongue deeper and harder into me.

The pain sapped what little energy I had left. He pulled away from me and I could see his face was covered in my blood. The man lay my back on the hard, cold ground. I heard the distant call of police sirens as they approached our position. Backup. Randy must have worried when I didn't report in.

The man stood and his shadow loomed over me. The light behind him hid all his features but his glowing eyes.

"If you wish to live, don't seek me out," he warned me.

He strode past me. I tilted my head and watched him sling the naked body slung over one shoulder. He walked past me and did the same with the other dead man. The stranger gave one last glance at me over his shoulder before he trudged down the alley in the direction I'd come. I couldn't move my head far enough to follow him past the intersection. He disappeared, but my solitary existence was short.

Heavy boots raced up the alley and the light from multiple flashlights danced across the ground. Four of my fellow officers raced around the corner. They saw me and hurried over. One of them, a young officer named Baldwin, knelt beside me.

"Jesus. . ." I heard him whisper.

"She okay?" one of the others asked him.

He shone his flashlight on my wound and shook his head. "I don't

know, but we'd better call an ambulance ASAP." He turned his attention to my face and grasped my shoulder. "Hold still. Help's on the way," he promised. I opened my mouth to tell him about the man, but nothing would come out. "Save your strength," he insisted.

My strength saved itself. My head grew woozy and the world spun around me.

"Detective Selena? Stay with me! Don't fall asleep!" Baldwin yelled.

I would have been to keep awake, but this time I couldn't help but disobey the commands of an officer. My eyes closed and I slipped into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Maria? Maria, you there? Come on, Maria, open your eyes."

I groaned and forced open my eyes. I lay in a white room on a white bed. It didn't take my detective training to tell me I was in a hospital room and in one of those stupid gowns. Close beside me sat Officer Randy in the flesh. He was a middle-aged guy with a graying mustache Tom Selleck would have envied and a heart that was pure gold. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, and on his face was an expression of surprise and happiness.

"That's Detective Maria Selena," I scolded him.

"When I heard how they found you I thought it was going to be deceased Detective Maria Selena," he told me. He shoved the flowers in my face. "My wife thought you'd like to have these."

I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not much of a flower person." I tried to sit up, but my arms felt as heavy as a police cruiser.

Randy stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Whoa. Not so fast," he advised me. "The doctor's said you wouldn't be able to get up for a couple more days."

I squirmed atop the bed and flinched when my bruised neck complained. "How bad is it?'

"It wasn't good, at least by the pictures," he told me as he resumed his seat. "It looked like someone tried to slice your throat open, but you didn't have much bleeding by the time the medics got to you and they rushed you here. Got you stabilized and comfortable. That was two days ago."

My eyes widened. "Two days?"

He nodded. "Yep. You lost a lot of blood in that alley." He scooted closer to me and dropped his voice. "Any way you can tell us what happened in there?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. "Yeah. It was like some kind of nightmare. I responded to the call and there was the noise of-"

"We know that from the eyewitnesses. What happened in the alley?" he wondered.

"I went back there and found a naked guy with a bullet hole in his chest," I explained.

"Dead?"

"He wasn't playing it."

"Suicide or murder?"

"Judging by the gunpowder burns I guessed murder. The gun was by

him and I was looking at it when two guys slammed through the back door of that place, the Wolf's Den," I told him.

Randy frowned. "We interviewed everybody in there. They said they didn't hear or see a thing."

I scoffed. "Then either they're all deaf and blind or they're lying. I know I saw those two guys come out that back door wrestling with each other. One of them grabbed me and threatened to kill me, but the other guy took him out with a gun from his waist and blew a hole in his head."

He nodded at my neck. "So which one gave you that memento?"

I reached my shaking hand up to my bandaged neck and sighed. "The one that was using me as a shield. He had these impossibly long nails and cut me as he went down."

"Any way you could identify these guys if you saw them?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I think I can, especially the guy that's still alive. I got a good look at him while the other guy held me."

Randy leaned back and furrowed his brow. "So you're sure one had a hole in his chest and the other had one in his head?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I think we found those guys in the river the day before yesterday. Both of them were naked, but they had the bullet holes in the same place," he revealed.

I raised an eyebrow. "Any idea who they were?"

He shook his head. "No clue, but they're running their fingerprints through a federal database and-"

"-and you should stop bothering my patient so much," a male doctor spoke up as they strode into the room. He was a little taller than me with blond hair and an age of thirty. In his hands was a clipboard, and on his face was a bright smile. "This is the first time she's been awake in two days."

Randy sheepishly grinned and shrugged. "Sorry, doc. Just wanted to get the facts before our sleeping beauty here decided to have another long snooze."

I glared at him. "I don't feel that bad. Just weak," I argued.

"You lost quite a bit of blood," the doctor mused as he flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard. "Two pints, to be exact. A little more and we wouldn't be talking."

"How long is this going to take to heal? I've got a murderer to catch," I asked him.

"They got Howard on the case," Randy told me.

I whipped my head to him and my mouth dropped open. "That idiot? He couldn't find a coat in a coat closet! Why wasn't I assigned to the case?"

"Well, for one you were near death, and another, you're a little too deep in this case as it is," he pointed out. "Besides, we haven't linked the bodies recovered in the river to your fun in the alley. Now that we know to compare blood samples, we can connect the cases."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Bodies in the river? They're related to my patient?"

Randy glanced at the doc. "I'd be glad to talk to you about it, doc, but it's under investigation. That means hush-hush."

The doctor smiled and shook his head. "I know a bit about confidentiality myself. That's why I need to ask you to leave, or this young lady needs to give her permission for you to stay in the room while I go over her charts with her."

"He can stay," I agreed.

The doctor shrugged. "All right. I've got some good news and some bad news. Which one do you want first?"

"The bad news first."

"You'll be here for a few more days. The lacerations on your throat were very deep, and we want to make sure your skin stitches together properly."

I cringed. "And the good news?"

"Our jello is outstanding."

I rolled my eyes. "I think you got the order wrong there, doc."

He chuckled. "Well, that really wasn't the good news. The good news

is there isn't any lasting damage except for a nice scar across your throat. That'll fade, but it'll always be visible."

I rubbed my neck and winced. "Any way I can get this stuff off to scratch it?"

"Certainly. It's about time to change them, anyway," he agreed. He set his clipboard on a table opposite me and wheeled a tray over to my bed. On

the tray was an assortment of gauze, disinfectant, and a pair of scissors. He grabbed a pair of scissors and leaned over the bed. "Now turn your head away and don't move," he warned me.

I turned my head and sat still as he cut through the layers of bandages. His scissors went snip-snip and the soft cloth fell into piles on my lap. The last few layers fell onto my lower neck. The doctor started back and his mouth fell open.

"My god. . ." he whispered.

Randy leaned towards me and frowned. "How the hell did that happen?"

My heart rate quickened. "What? What is it?" I asked them. "Your throat has healed," the doctor explained.

"Shouldn't it?" I countered.

He straightened and shook his head. "You don't understand. There

were severe lacerations across most of your throat. It took a hundred stitches to close up the wound, and even then we weren't sure it was going to stay together."

"And it looks like what now?" I questioned him.

He grabbed the mirror off the tray and held it up. I leaned my head back. My eyes widened when they fell on my smooth, scarred neck. The scar was there, but there were no signs of separated or irritated skin. It was as though I'd had the scars for years.

I reached up and tapped the scar. There was a sensation of it being bruised, but nothing else.

My eyes flickered to the doctor. "You said you stitched me up. Where are the stitches?"

"Here," Randy spoke up. He picked up something from the lowest layer of bandages. It was stitching thread. "Must have come out somehow."

"Without ripping through my skin?" I pointed out.

The doctor leaned down and tilted my head away from him to look at the scar. "It's a miracle. . ." he murmured.

"When was the last time my wound was bandaged?" I asked him.

He grabbed the chart off the table and looked it over. "Last night. The nurse commented that the stitches were still tight and the two sides of skin appeared to be mending together."

I jabbed a finger at my neck. "All this happened in one night?" He closed the clipboard and nodded. "So it seems."

"That's impossible. Your chart's wrong," I insisted.

"Doc, I think what my blunt friend is trying to tell you is that she wants some tests done," Randy spoke up. "You know, just to make sure there isn't something wrong."

The doctor shrugged. "We could take some blood and skin samples, but my professional opinion is that there's no longer anything wrong with her. I could probably recommend she go home today."

"Finally some good news that I can really chew on!" I quipped. I tossed aside the thin, white bed sheet and swung my legs over the sides.

"Let me just prepare all the paperwork for your release and you'll be on your way," the doctor offered. He nodded at a small dresser. "A set of your clothes are in there. Feel free to put them on whenever you feel up to it. I'll be right back." He exited the room.

Randy waited until he was gone before he turned to me. His lips were pursed and he clutched the flowers tight in his hand. I frowned. "I've seen that look before, Randy. What is it?"

"Well, there was something about those two guys I didn't tell you, but after this-" he nodded at my neck, "-I think you might want to know."

"What about them?"

"The bullets that killed them? They were silver."

I blinked at him. "Silver bullets?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I saw them myself. Silver all the way through.

Nice craftsmanship, too, before their points got flattened by the impact." "So what's this got to do with me?" I questioned him.

He glanced over his shoulder. The door was open, but nobody passed

by. He turned back to me and lowered his voice. "You ever read any werewolf stories?"

I snorted. "Yeah, under my covers with a night-light, why?"

"Well, you ever read about people getting scratched and becoming one of them?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're not seriously thinking that that's what happened to me, are you?"

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "I don't know, but there's something really weird about two guys floating down the river with silver bullets in them and your gash healing up so quick."

I hopped off the bed and walked over to the dresser. "There's nothing weird about my wound. I'm a fast healer," I told him. I opened a drawer and

saw my purse lay among the clothes. A sudden draft and a stifled snicker caught my attention. I spun around and found Randy covering his mouth and staring at me. "What?"

He straightened and pointed the bouquet at me. "You forgot something."

I followed the flowers and my eyes grew wide when I saw the back of the gown was open.

I whipped my head to Randy and snapped a finger at the door. "Out!" He held up his hands and stood. "Just trying to help."

"You can help by getting out!"

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving. Oh, and there's something in those flowers

you might really want," he added as he set the flowers in front of me on the dresser. They made a heavy clunk as they hit. He smiled at me and scurried out.

I furrowed my brow and picked up the flowers. They had a good grip. A very familiar grip. I unwrapped the cloth that held the stems and grinned. My gun. He'd snuck it in for me. I put the gun beneath my stack of clothes and packaged the flowers together as well as I could manage.

I grabbed the door and meant to close it after Randy, but a hand came from behind the door and snatched its side. The door was pulled from my grasp and opened to reveal the doctor. He had a clipboard in his hands again, and that ever-present smile on his face.

He held out the clipboard towards me. "I have your papers if you'd like to fill them out now," he offered.

I snatched the clipboard and grabbed the door knob. "Just lemme change and I'll get this right back to you."

He nodded. "Sure-" I slammed the door shut and proceeded to remove the drafty nightgown.

In a few minutes I was dressed, refreshed, and had the paperwork filled out. I opened the door and found the doctor standing outside in the hall. He turned to me and looked me up and down.

"You look like you're feeling better," he commented.

"Is that your professional opinion?" I quipped.

"Only as a man."

I looked him over for a name tag, but didn't see one. "What's your

name, anyway?" I asked him.

A strange, crooked smile slipped onto his lips. "Doctor Lowell."

I handed back the clipboard paperwork to him. "Well, thanks for the fix, Doctor Lowell."

He shook his head. "I think the patient is the one who does all the hard work."

I shrugged and stepped away from him. "Yeah, well, thanks anyway. See you later."

"Tomorrow. I want you to come in for an examine tomorrow," he called back.

"Lucky me. . ." I muttered as I turned and walked away from him.