Tonight’s full moon is not only a supermoon, but also a blue moon!
It’s
a supermoon because it will be closer to the earth, and thus brighter
than usual. It’s a seasonal blue moon, being the third full moon in
a season with four full moons.
Tonight’s
full moon is also known as the sturgeon moon. It seems the giant lake
sturgeon is more easily caught at this time of year.
To
celebrate, I thought I’d share a snippet from my upcoming novella
Under a Hunter’s Moon. The story occurs during a full moon in
October.
The
novella is now at the proofing stage, so I’m hopeful I can release
it soon. It’s an exclusive for my newsletter subscribers.
Click here if you’re
interested in becoming a subscriber.
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“Shit!” She gripped the sides of the window, her mouth
hanging open.
“What? What?”
Vasilyev frowned in confusion.
“There’s
something loose out there. It just attacked a woman.”
“What?!”
The Russian shoved
her away from the slit and peered out. “There’s nothing out
there,” he said after a moment. He stepped back so she could see
for herself.
Pearl peeked out
again. The courtyard was empty now, but there was a dark smudge where
the woman had fallen.
“No, I’m sure I
saw what I saw. There’s blood on the ground,” she told the
Russian. “Right by where the cars are parked.”
Vasilyev took
another look. “Nah, that’s just a shadow. Or one of the cars is
leaking engine oil.”
“It’s blood.
I’m telling you, I saw something attack a woman.”
“Well, we can stay
here until they come for us, or we can get out while nobody’s
around.” He marched to the spiral staircase. “I know what I’m
doing.”
She hurried after
him. Luc Fortingris had to know by now that she was not in the
ballroom. It was only a matter of time before he sent his people to
search the keep. Vasilyev was right that they had to leave now.
At the ground level,
the Russian cautiously opened the door of the keep and stuck his head
outside. She followed him out.
They slunk toward
the cars. Vasilyev had suggested that they hot-wire one of the
vehicles and use that to escape. She agreed that seemed their best
option for getting away.
As they neared the
cars and the smudge on the ground, Pearl caught the whiff of a
pungent, metallic odor. Freshly spilled blood. Her heart rate
accelerated. The Russian’s sense of smell wasn’t that keen. It
took a while before his nostrils dilated. He craned his neck.
“Smell that?”
she whispered.
He nodded, his eyes
wide. His bravado wilted.
She took the lead.
Hunkering lower, they moved along the shadow cast by the castle’s
east rampart. The coppery smell grew stronger.
Pearl scanned their
surroundings, on high alert for the animal. A guttural cough caused
the hair on her arms to stand on end. The cough was followed by the
unmistakable sounds of flesh tearing, and bones cracking.
***************
