Brave the Night by Cassandra Moore

Author:Cassandra Moore [Moore, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

In the night, she’d slept safe in Shane’s bed, but her dreams had pulled her out of the warm security she found in his arms.

Last time her dreams had pulled her across the terrain to look through a Feral’s eyes, she had felt distant. Set apart by a critical distance that allowed her to retain a feeling of her own consciousness. That break between Feral and self blurred now, the boundary smudged so she had to search for the place where she ended and the Feral began. He felt familiar in a way that disturbed her.

I know him. I’ve met him. In the dream before? Is it the same one?

Gloom surrounded the small grocery store, isolated as it was on the edge of town. She could see the outlines of buildings on the horizon, dark but for the occasional golden rectangle of windows where someone still fought back against the shadows. Few, perhaps too few. Not many here dared to defy the edicts of the night.

Inside, the overhead lights remained off, and she was glad for it. Wait. I’m not glad for it. Turn on the lights. I don’t want to walk through the darkness here. The thoughts went unnoticed by the one whose body she dreamed in. He was glad for it, because the lights hurt his sensitive eyes. Not as badly as the light of the day, which prickled his flesh like the tips of a thousand claws and stabbed into his head every time he looked at it.

He opened the door to enter, and scents hit him with a near physical force. Smells had built up in the cramped building. Within the mind of the beast, Erin wanted to retch, but her host breathed deeper to take them in. Rotting vegetation. Ripening meat. Lingering scents of his pack. Fear, thick as old blood, undercut by the sharp scent of tears.

Even over the sounds of the machines inside the building, he could hear the weeping human pups and the urgent voices of the elders who tried to shush them. His pack had broken them, weakened their resolve to fight. Their protectors had died at the hands of his kind, and how they had sung their victory to the moon and stars. Pathetic wolves with their loud, wheeled motors. Motorcycles. The werewolves ride motorcycles.

The beast paused and cocked his head. Motorcycles. Loud motorcycles. The wolves had died, or fled, and proved his kind were superior. Now they would keep the wolves’ mates, and their pups, and the most important of the humans in this temporary den to ensure no one would attack. This place held too much of the Song to risk more wolves interfering.

The Song? What the hell is it talking about? Where is this place? Erin ignored the notion that the Feral might have picked up the word “motorcycle” from her and searched her dream for clues instead. A dropped receipt, anything. She found it as the Feral walked towards the back of the store, past a display of papers tacked to the wall.

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