Moonlit Genesis

Moonlit Genesis is a stand-alone novel in the Veil of Gods story universe.

Kyle, a werewolf tainted with vampire blood, gets drawn into an escalating conflict between two vampire clans shortly after discovering his long-dead wife isn’t dead at all, but one of the vampires.

Here’s the first chapter.

Chapter 1

The uniformed woman looked at Kyle’s passport, then at Kyle, then back down again with a frown. She had half a dozen silver rings on her fingers, the stink of them making him want to sneeze or at least hold his breath. Anything silver did it, and touching silver was worse. It could leave a red welt.

“Anything to declare?” she asked, meeting his eyes with the flat stare of someone who’d had arguments from too many people already today and wanted to be somewhere else. Her severely braided hair matched her expression.

“No,” he said, trying not to let her see his discomfort from the scent of silver.

He hated the risks he was taking in coming here, silver being the least of them. His fake identity could cause a lot of trouble if it didn’t pass, but at least the passport used his real name, which made lying easier.

Something felt wrong, though. He could smell it as well as he could smell the reek of her silver rings. After several hundred years, he’d developed an instinct for this sort of thing. If she flagged anything it could mean questions and deportation at best, or charges and a lot of trouble he’d struggle to escape otherwise.

He forced himself to return a pleasant smile. She was just a human doing her job. No threat, at least not physically. Just a human with authority. And silver rings. He hoped that meant nothing. Lots of humans wore silver, after all. He wanted to fidget, but held still and kept his pleasant smile in place.

She returned her eyes to his passport, lips pursed.

What was the issue? He’d paid a lot of money for that passport. Maybe the woman had a thing against short people, or at least hadn’t seen a lot of men his size. He was a product of his age after all, but still built like the blacksmith he’d been in his first profession. Five foot nothing and about the same across the shoulders, or at least that was the joke.

She looked back at him again and handed over his passport. “Enjoy your holiday, Mister Smithson.” As simple as that, the ordeal was over.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief. So much for his instincts. The money he’d spent on the passport was an excellent investment, now he’d proven its worth.

Trying not to look like he wanted to run and put as much distance between himself and Customs as possible, he casually slung his carry-on bag over his shoulder and made his way out of Sydney International Airport. A quick hop to the domestic terminal, one more flight to Canberra, and he’d be finished travelling after a good twenty hours. He needed a shower and a beer, and not necessarily in that order, although the locals may disagree.

Outside the terminal he sniffed the hot Australian air, crinkling his nose at the late afternoon reek of traffic. Despite that, the air was different to American air and other places he’d been to. Every country smelled different, but they were also much the same.

Right now he was in a city of millions, the human scents combining with salt from the ocean, mild pollution, and the distant but sharp smell of eucalypts. It was the heat he noticed most, though. It was winter in the States, but summer here. He broke out in a sweat the moment he left the international terminal.

After an uncomfortable bus ride to the domestic terminal where he sat next to a woman who reeked of curry, he found himself on a short flight to Canberra within two hours. If he’d had a car, he could have driven there in roughly the same time as flying, but flying was far easier, particularly in a foreign country.

As his last flight took off, he rested his head against the seat. The sun was setting and the hot summer evening settling across the country. The jet-powered tin can rose through the clouds to reveal a bright orange moon appearing on the horizon. At the sight of it, his body shuddered with unexpected need. He hadn’t reacted so strongly to the moon in decades. He really was tired.

He took a deep, calming breath and reclined his seat, resisting an urge to grip the armrests. Some werewolves could ignore the full moon entirely, most transformed, and then there were those like Kyle. He could control himself most of the time, but occasionally it caught him out, and it was never fun. Tired, stressed and confined, he wanted to tear into someone.

He took another deep breath.

“I take it you don’t enjoy flying?” said the man beside him in a well-travelled business suit. He had a big gut and smelled like junk food. The man would be tall and imposing when he stood, but he’d let himself go soft, reducing the impact. There was a spare seat between them which he’d used to dump his headphones, a computer and a magazine. What caught Kyle’s attention was the accent. There wasn’t an accent quite like the Australian accent. He wasn’t sure if he loved it or hated it.

Kyle looked past the big man through the window. The clouds would be luminous when the moon fully transitioned from orange to a silvery yellow. “No. It’s the full moon. Us werewolf types get antsy for a few nights each month.”

The man grinned and drew a dog-eared paperback from the computer bag at his feet. It seemed to have done more travel than both the man and his suit combined. Although his hand hid the title, the castle, magical mist and battle-scene on the cover suggested an epic fantasy. “You saw my book, didn’t you?”

Kyle smiled. He’d meant to put the guy off but had caught his attention instead. Time to change the subject. “You from Canberra?”

“Yeah. Heading home for a few days, then off to Perth. Where are you from? I can’t tell if it’s the US or England.”

“Born in Wales. Lived most of my life in the States.” At least the conversation was a pleasant distraction from the bloodthirsty urges his instincts were pushing him toward. When alone or in an open space they didn’t bother him much, but cooped up in a tube with nothing but people and aviation fumes to breathe, the desire to lash out was getting to him. “Can you tell me where I can get a cold beer in Canberra?”

The man named several places, and taking pity on Kyle’s overwhelmed look, he wrote them down on a notepad, tearing the sheet of paper free. “That one’s probably quieter tonight,” he said, pointing to the third name. “Irish pub just on the edge of the city, but still pretty close to the centre though.”

Kyle took the offered paper. “Thanks. Been a long trip.”

It wasn’t the trip that was making him sweat, though. It was the moon. Better to head it off now than risk losing control in a contained space. He took a couple of garlic tablets from his coat pocket and threw them back, swallowing them without water. It felt like dowsing his tongue with chilli powder. He stiffened as he tried not to let the pain show on his face while they burned their way down his throat.

They’d take the edge off for an hour or two, long enough to get into the city and suck down a couple of beers. He’d seen garlic burn through the skin of a vampire once, and it didn’t do him any favours either. It wasn’t normally lethal, but if a vampire bathed in a tub of minced garlic, there wouldn’t be much left in the morning.

He needed a beer. Alcohol would help dull the burn spreading like a hot poker through his stomach, though on a short flight like this he wasn’t likely to get any.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Heart pounding, Kyle blinked perspiration from his eyes. “Yeah. Give the tablets a few minutes to kick in.” He didn’t think of himself as being part vampire, but more a werewolf tainted by vampire blood. Whatever the truth, he’d never been entirely vampire or werewolf. His tainted genesis was the secret to his immortality and the reason he found garlic obnoxious, but he didn’t have many other vampiric traits beyond a desire for a blood Slurpee every full moon.

The full moon seemed to be where the two sides of his nature met and melded.

It took about half an hour for the garlic’s effects to settle down, although it still burned through his veins and his stomach was ready to void itself. Still, it was far better than tearing into someone, or everyone. He could breathe normally again by the time they landed, the moon fully up and illuminating the runway and surrounding hills, which were mostly covered in eucalypts.

After the plane taxied to the terminal, the businessman struck up the conversation again while they waited to disembark. “So, why’d you come to Canberra?”

Kyle hesitated, but figured it wouldn’t hurt. “To see a friend. A very old friend. We have a lot of history.”

Why did Kimbriel want to see him? The question had been burning at him for weeks now. She hadn’t said, and he hadn’t asked, but maybe he should have. He owed her his life and more, and so he didn’t feel that it was his place to question her, but still… It was the first time she’d asked anything of him in three hundred years.

Whatever she needed had to be important, so he’d do it, no questions. As far as he could tell she could have appeared before him at any moment no matter where he was, yet she wanted him in Australia. Her home. Why?

As the crowd began moving off the plane, Kyle stood and opened the overhead locker to get his bag. He’d find out why tomorrow, he guessed.

“Nice meeting you,” he said, holding up the slip of paper with the bar names. “Thanks.”

* * *

Suzannah Ranger, Zannah to everyone, raised an eyebrow at the underage girl. “You’re eighteen?” she asked as she tried to hide a smirk. The petite girl, her long dark hair braided artfully, barely looked sixteen despite the heavy makeup. Her skirt wasn’t much longer than the width of a belt, either. First time doing this, probably.

Her three friends had gone to a table as far from the bar as possible, no doubt to avoid scrutiny. They didn’t look any older than the girl ordering the drinks.

“Uh, yeah. The bouncer let me in, didn’t he?”

Zannah glanced at Reg, who stood at the open doors, arms crossed. He caught her look and gave her a ‘what’ shrug. She narrowed her eyes, but he couldn’t help himself and grinned. She had trouble not returning it. The bastard, she thought affectionately. Despite his size and tattoos, he was a teddy bear and had saved her hide a couple of times from oversized, angry drunks.

Still, he was risking a huge fine or getting sacked just so he could get some eye candy. Idiot. By his expression he knew exactly what he’d done, and he was relying on Zannah to sort it out for him. He was going to be buying her a drink or two if he knew what was good for him.

“ID?” Zannah asked the girl.

With her large gold hoop earrings jangling about, the girl fished through her small black clutch purse and pulled out a license. She flashed it before returning it to her purse. “There. Can I have my drinks now?”

Zannah held out her hand, already knowing where this was going. “Let me see it or you and your friends will have to leave.”

The situation would be fun if the fines weren’t so serious. Hell, she’d let the girls stay if it was up to her. Better for them to have a few quiet drinks here under Zannah’s casual supervision than wherever they might end up next.

The girl rolled her eyes and handed the license over. “See?” She held out her hand immediately, impatient to get the license back.

Zannah held the license up to one of the half-powered down lights. “Says here you’re… twenty-seven? Really?” The photo wasn’t her, but it could have been her big sister or another close relative.

The girl lifted her chin, her heavy makeup failing to hide a massive zit on her jawline. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Well, you see…” She read the name. “Megan. I can get into a lot of trouble for serving someone alcohol before they’re eighteen, including a huge fine or being sent to prison for a year. So, unless you have some ID that actually looks like you, you and your underage friends over there need to walk out the door.” She handed the license back.

The girl stuffed it in her purse. “How about I call the cops? If you don’t get the drinks I ordered, I’ll call them and sue you for discrimination. Or… or something.”

Zannah pursed her lips at the threat. The girl was just trying to do what Zannah herself had tried many times at the same age, though she’d never threatened the bar staff. How she hadn’t got into trouble she’d never know, but suspected it was due to the sympathy of people like herself.

“Wanna use my phone?” Zannah asked. “I have the local police station’s number saved as a favourite. I’m sure someone there would be happy to come by and chat with us.”

The girl hesitated, meeting Zannah’s eyes to see if she was bluffing. It barely took a heartbeat before she realised she wasn’t.

“Screw you.” She turned and walked to her friends, thumb pointing over her shoulder at Zannah. They got up and left, giving Zannah glares as they went. She felt bad. They just wanted a bit of fun and excitement.

“Hey Zannah?” Tim walked over. “I need you to work a double shift tonight. Dizzy called in sick.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “No way, Tim. I started before lunch and I’m already into overtime. Besides, I’ve got an assignment to finish by Monday and about six hours of reading to do. I haven’t even started reviewing my course notes and I’ve got an exam on Friday.” God, she hated uni, but it was the only way to get ahead.

His expression softened, but judging by his body language, she guessed she was his last hope. No doubt he’d already called everyone he could. “There’s only you, me and Fitzy tonight. Just a few more hours and you can clear out by midnight. I promise.”

A group of ten walked in, followed by a smaller group. She sighed. It was going to be a busy night and tough on Tim and Fitzy if she didn’t stay. “Fine, but I’m taking a fifteen minute break and you’re paying me double time.”

Tim gripped her shoulder as he met her eyes and nodded. “Done. How about you come in tomorrow at lunchtime and I’ll give you the back room for study, with lunch and coffee on me? Dinner too if you’re still here then.”

She wanted to get mad at him, but he was a bloody good boss and he didn’t have to be so nice. “Thanks, Tim.”

He gave the shoulder a slight squeeze. “You look after me and I’ll look after you.” He nodded toward the door. “Looks like Mister Shining Armour has arrived. You better go announce the riches I’ve forced on you.” From the tone in his voice it was clear he didn’t particularly care for David, her boyfriend, though he’d never said anything to suggest it.

David caught her eye and smiled, raising his eyebrows with a nod toward the door to indicate it was time to leave. She returned the smile but beckoned him toward the bar entry. She took him through and out the service door at the back, and into the heat of the wide alley. The beer garden across the alley was vacant, the owners of the bar having gone bankrupt recently.

Cars were parked beside the buildings, and several massive trees grew down the centre. It was more a service area than an alley, though it was narrow at both ends and wide in the middle. A large, long rectangle.

“What’s going on?” David asked, his posture stiff as if he already knew what she was going to say. “I thought you were finished?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to be. Tim’s short staffed. Wants me to work back.”

He glared at the back entry to the bar. “You need a real job. He’s taking advantage of you.”

“Hey, he looks after me. Said I could have the back room to study tomorrow. Food and coffee on him.”

David shrugged. “You could study at home or the library. He’s just sucking up.”

It was true, but Tim didn’t have to be nice about it. “I said I’d stay. Can you pick me up around eleven-thirty? Maybe twelve? I’m really sorry.”

“Geez, Zannah. That late?” He pushed his fringe aside, a habit he hadn’t lost since he’d had long hair.

“C’mon David. We need the money to get to Europe next year.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about we skip Europe and go backpacking around Australia? Way cheaper.”

Not this argument again. She forced annoyance down. “Tight-arse,” she said, softening it with a smile as she gave him an overly friendly slap on the arm, letting it turn into a mollifying caress. “I need a break from uni, and the further away the better. I want to relax and see the sights, not crash in hostels full of drunks and drugged-up people speaking languages I wish I knew. Besides, I’ve seen half of Australia already.”

“Going overseas is a huge waste of money. We’ve got everything we need here.”

Her good mood disappeared, and she let her hand drop. “I’ve got to get back to work. Can you pick me up later or should I get a taxi?”

He grimaced. “It’s drinks with Kelly and Sam and the rest. We’ll be well into it by eleven.”

It was the answer she expected and couldn’t really blame him. “Fine. I’ll get a cab.”

He looked over her shoulder and paled, eyes going wide in fear. “Run!” he said, snatching for her arm, missing, but still turning and sprinting for the alley entrance, leaving her behind.

Zannah, heart suddenly pounding, spun to see what had frightened him and stumbled as someone shoved past her. By the time she turned full circle, a man had caught David and was holding him off the ground by the front of his shirt with one arm. He wasn’t quite as tall as David, but definitely stronger. As David opened his mouth to yell, the guy threw him hard. He hit the brick wall, head cracking against it, and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Oh shit,” Zannah whispered, backing away. No one was that strong. The attacker turned his attention on her, his expression like a cat watching a mouse. His lips parted in a grin and it scared her more than if he’d pulled a knife.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, her heart hammering. She glanced at David, but he was out cold. Even if she could get to him, she couldn’t drag him to safety.

The guy wasn’t broad and probably not even as tall as Zannah herself, but he clearly had a lot more muscle than she’d have guessed. He had long mousy-coloured hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a suit jacket over a business shirt without a tie. Classy for a mugger. Any other day she’d say he was just an average guy, but right now he looked like a predator.

She glanced at the bar’s service door, but he was closer than she was, and she’d seen how fast he was. She backed another step, hoping she could circle around him and get David out through the alley entrance, assuming David woke by then. There’d be safety in the street at least.

The man’s grin broadened as if he could read her thoughts. “How about we play a game, little girl? You run. I chase. If you can get out of the alley, I’ll settle for your cowardly boyfriend. You lose and I get you both. Fair?” He had an accent. European. French, perhaps.

Zannah didn’t give him a chance to taunt her further. She turned and sprinted for the opposite exit, desperately hoping there was a cop nearby.

If you’re a reviewer, you can grab a review copy via Story Origin.

Divine Prey and Epicentre are also Veil of Gods stories.