Moon Blood (COMPLETE)

Chapter Three: A New Moon

The days past, and Neil had utterly convinced himself that Rachel had either been kidnapped or just run away from home, despite the contrary evidence that she'd been very happy. Neil hadn't really spoken to her before that night, and the way things were going, was unlikely to speak to her again. It had been almost a month and there hadn't been a shred of evidence of her. School had returned to relative normality, minus the ribbons decorating the big oak outside the school gates to show support for Rachel. Everyday, Neil hunched his shoulders as he trudged past it.  He couldn't explain to himself why he felt the need to do it; he had nothing to do with it, after all. That's what he had to tell himself to get out of bed each morning, lest the guilt ate away at his insides.

David and James had been lifesavers, helping him forget about the recent happenings by spending lots of time together, and getting together for game nights. In those times, he didn't have to worry about anything pawing at his conscience.

When he slept - or tried to, at least - that was when he began to sweat and worry. He'd lost hours of sleep over the course of the month and the night they came for him was no different. He lay awake staring at the ceiling, a nausea burbling in his belly and a sweat dampening his brow. He was hot. Too hot.

The clock read ten fifty two, and the sun had finally set to allow the dark and moonless night to ebb into his room. Tonight was likely already a complete write off, and he shrugged the blanket off, making his way through the drifts of clothes scattered across the floor to open the window.

It had been a hot and sticky day, and the warmth had bled into the night and turned the air heavy and heady. Neil huffed as he pushed open the window and let the still air try and leave the room.

And that's when he saw the wolf.

It was like a statue, looking up at his window and easily the size of a pony or perhaps even bigger, with a long thick tail the length of its body coiled behind it. Pale eyes the colour of the moon stared up at him.

He couldn't breathe, even if he wanted to, the sight was beyond any reason his mind could conjure in an attempt to assuage itself. He stepped back, and his heel found the corner of a pile of clothes. He plummeted to the wooden floor, but that was longer a concern: the wolf had jumped to the top of the bay window and was staring at him in the eerie and sickly gloom of the streetlights.. Neil couldn't even scream, anything in his lungs had long dried up and he scrabbled backwards, pressing his back to the door as the wolf entered with little to no trouble, dropping its large paws on the floor but making no noise whatsoever. It took a step, then another; picking its way through the dirty laundry. Its eyes never left his.

This was a dream: he'd passed out finally, the press of sleep finally weighing on his eyelids. He blinked, but the wolf didn't blink back. It took another step and bared its teeth, its mouth easily big enough to devour his arm in one swift swallow. He could feel the heat of its breath now it was practically on top of him, and he slid down as it approached him, until he was almost on his back. The wolf stood over him and snarled.

Neil had never considered death before, not consciously, at least. Now as it stood over him growling, Neil knew this wasn't a dream: it was obvious in the smell of the wolf's hot breath, and the heat it seemed to be emanating right from its body. Neil swallowed, and finally, the wolf blinked, and sniffed around his neck. Its muzzle was so huge that if it wanted to, his neck would be crushed like an envelope under its power. It sat back on its haunches, cocking its head and watching him with careful eyes.

Neil took the chance, and grabbed for the door handle with sweaty hands. If he was going to die at the hands of this beast, he might as well give it a run for its money. His parents were out that night, and he was alone in the house. He stumbled to the stairs, and curiously, the wolf didn't follow.

Perhaps the backdoor would be the best option. Anywhere out of the damn house. Like a fool, he'd left his phone on his bedside table and he was dressed only in dark pyjama bottoms. He looked behind him and thankfully, the wolf still hadn't emerged. He didn't want to take any chances. He burst out the backdoor and into the purple gloom of the twilight. Above him, a sky void of a moon but glimmering with stars did nothing to light the warm tarmac beneath his bare feet. Neil ran down the road, unsure of his destination, just as long as it was away from that snarling huge wolf.

He made it a full thirteen houses down before his lungs started to burn. Neil was lean, no question, but not fit. He was in fact, woefully unfit, and even panic wasn't enough to combat the physical state his body was in. He was pouring sweat and trembling. The nausea turned into a stomach retch and he coughed up vomit. But he couldn't stop. In the corner of his eye, he saw its outline loping towards him. Eyes never leaving his. He ran down an alleyway and ducked by the low fence of the neighbours. He couldn't even hear it; his heart was thudding in his ears and his tinnitus was screaming at him. He clamped a hand over his mouth and tried to steady his breathing, despite the nausea making his stomach cramp and his mouth salivate like crazy. Unbidden, the memory of the taste of that blood he'd vomited up appeared, and he gagged behind his hand.

The wolf was silent, mocking him as it stalked him. The creature was probably right behind him. Neil felt fit to collapse, sweat was now pouring off of him and the nausea wasn't abating no matter how many breaths he could pull into his lungs.

A head, a muzzle and pointed ears whipped around the corner, and Neil could only whimper. He had nowhere left to run, and even if he did, he couldn't run anyway. His legs were jelly and useless. He could only pant, and wait to die. The wolf advanced, step by step, almost slowing as it cornered him, and their noses were practically touching. It sniffed once again, and backed up. Neil in his weakened state watched in a kind of feverish haze as its back exploded in shadow-like raven wings.

Neil tried to push away, but it was futile. The wings unfurled above its hulking body, melting and dancing in the moonlight, swirling towards his quivering form. It gathered his sorry body up in one fell swoop before he could even take a breath, becoming utterly swaddled in the thick blanket of darkness which held him so tightly there was little chance of moving, let alone escaping.

The wolf, seemingly content he was secure on its back, bounded back into the street, travelling at a breakneck pace. Neil's eyes were streaming as he watched his house disappear from sight, the road blurring by at the wolf's inhuman speed.