Blood Moon (Cat Clan): Cat Clan, #2

By C.L. Bevill

Sage Ingram has been changed to a werecougar against her will, kidnapped, and locked in Under, a magickal place with monstrous creatures so alarming, she's shaking in her paws.

Per Forester, a Cat Clan Warrior, has just come back from another mission to find Emma Lucia, his clan's Second, returned from being hunted by vicious humans. She also has clothing belonging to Sage and as soon as Per scents the clothing, he knows he's been hooked.

Caught in a sorcerous realm, Under, populated by beings out of nightmares, Per fights to find Sage before it's too late and Sage battles to stay alive.

Blood Moon is the second Cat Clan novella. It is a novella of about 31,500 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.L. Bevill
• Release date: Jan 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466053878

C.L. Bevill

C.L. Bevill is the author of several books including Bubba and the Dead Woman, Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas, Bubba and the Missing Woman, Bayou Moon, The Flight of the Scarlet Tanager, Veiled Eyes, Disembodied Bones, and Shadow People. She is currently at work on her latest literary masterpiece.

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Blood Moon

A Cat Clan Novella

C.L. Bevill

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Published by C.L. Bevill at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 by Caren L. Bevill

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Blood Moon is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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This novella is a companion piece to the Moon Trilogy and the second in the Cat Clan novellas.

The order is:

Black Moon

Amber Moon

Silver Moon

Harvest Moon

Blood Moon

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Much appreciation to Mary E. Bates, freelance proofreader of ebooks, printed material, and websites.

Contact her at [e-mail]

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

About the Author

Other Novels by C.L. Bevill

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Chapter One

It is bad luck to see a white cat at night. - American Superstition

The Lake Charles Trail located in the Holy Cross Wilderness wasn’t the easiest trail for Sage Ingram to access. About seventeen miles out of the mountain town of Eagle, it was tucked away in the Rockies, down a twisty, turny road. But she was working her way through a series of trails, starting with the letter A, and she’d hiked her way through to L; therefore, the Lake Charles Trail was the L she would take.

Her beat-up Toyota Corolla didn’t want to make it all the way, but it loyally putted its way up the inclines with only a mild protest in the form of a chugging noise not normally heard. She’d stopped once to check under the hood. Her handy secondhand, repair manual didn’t help overly, but it did reassure her that her car wasn’t about to heave dramatically and fall over dead on the side of the road.

Sage made the trailhead just as the skies to the east were beginning to turn pink.

It was an odd weekday off from her college classes, and Sage needed a little time to herself. Her roommates were busy and couldn’t come, but she told them where she was going and when she would be back, just in case she heaved dramatically and fell over dead on the side of the trail. Or perhaps if she slipped on shale and took a header down the side of a steep hill.

Sage wasn’t worried. She often hiked by herself. The vivid glory of the Rocky Mountains was a welcome relief to the damp, cold air of Seattle. Parking at the trailhead near a blue Suburban and a tan Wrangler, she loaded her prepared pack on her back, locked her car, pocketed the keys, and began a welcome respite from worrying about how she was going to pay for her next semester of college.

Working at a convenience store paid minimum wage. Attending college classes and living in an apartment with two other students cost more than minimum wage. Her parents weren’t in a position to give her a dime, although Sage’s mother, Debora, occasionally sent her wrinkled-up twenty dollar bills in dirty envelopes.

Sage suspected her mother was sneaking the money from Sage’s father’s wallet. Sage wouldn’t complain nor did she dare send the money back in case her father, Philip, intercepted the envelope and demanded an explanation from Debora. More likely than not, Philip would beat it out of Debora, and Philip had ordered Debora never to speak to Sage again.

Taking a deep breath, Sage held it and then expelled it. She couldn’t save her mother. But she’d saved herself. Colorado wasn’t all the way across the country from Washington, but it was far enough to dissuade Philip from visiting her.

Mama could leave him, Sage thought violently. She could pack the battered suitcase she’d gotten as a high school graduation present from Grandma, and she could go anywhere, away from Dad’s short temper and brutal fists. And…shit.

Sage knew her mother. Debora took the violence and accepted it as her due. But Sage wouldn’t play that game. One day Debora would see the light and come to live with Sage. They would make their way, but Sage needed to ensure for her future. To that end, she scrambled for funding. She applied for multiple grants and scholarships. She scraped every extra penny together and even sold plasma once or twice a month. She dumpster-dove for clothes and occasionally food. She hadn’t become a complete freegan yet, but it was always an option.

But Sage needed a moment to herself. She needed the splendor of nature. It didn’t cost a dime other than gas money to climb to the top of a mountain range. So she hiked. The letter A had been a great place to begin. She didn’t know what she would do when she got to Z, but there were many trails near the Denver metroplex where she lived. Something would occur to her.

With the onslaught of hard physical activity, Sage began to let her worries go. She concentrated on the mechanicalness of her pumping lungs and the actions of her legs. She gazed at the trail ahead of her and planned each movement in sequence.

At last Sage felt the peace she needed. She was alone on the trail. She’d seen two vehicles at the trailhead, but she hadn’t seen another human around. An hour into her hike, she stopped to drink some water from the old milk jug she used as her water container. It wasn’t a fancy bottle from REI, but it had a screw-on lid and she’d washed it thoroughly before using it for water.

Sage let the water settle in her stomach as she paused on the trail. The forest was still thick on this part of the trail. It led through a valley which eventually ended up at a remote lake on the southwestern side of Pika Peak. To the southeast of the lake was Fools Peak. The lake was lovely and isolated and typically too far a hike for most day trippers. She would hike the five miles in, spend the night, and head back in the morning in time for her midmorning abnormal psych class.

Sure, my ass will be dragging, but it’ll be worth the effort. Every bit of anger and fury and guilt will be gone for a few days at least.

The bright sun peeked through the trees to the east, casting long black shadows. Early-morning birds singing a merry note fell into abrupt silence. A moment of apprehensive premonition streamed through her body. Something was wrong.

When Sage had come home from her swing shift at the convenience store the previous night, the moon had been full. Worse, it had been a blood moon. Sage wasn’t typically superstitious, but the reddish rings around the overblown moon made a shiver run down the bones of her spine. Something bad is going to happen.

Her inner voice said it in the present. Pick up a stick. Go back down the trail. Something’s wrong. Something bad.

Sage had listened to her inner voice before. Once she’d enraged Philip so much he’d come at her with a baseball bat. That persistent voice had warned her of his nearly silent approach. She’d turned as he swung, and only the arm she’d thrown up in self-defense had been broken, instead of her skull. Only the sight of the bleeding compound fracture jabbing out of her forearm had stilled Philip’s second swing. Instead, he’d thrown the bat on the floor beside her and grunted, Serves you right. Thinkin’ you’re better than me.

The hospital had asked about the injury. Sage had been succinct. Baseball accident.

After all, Philip had been standing nearby, a smug look staining his face, with his beefy arm wrapped around Debora’s shoulders.

But Sage had known before it had happened. That little voice said it. It had screamed it. And it screamed at her again. She picked up a branch and hefted it.

There had been wind blowing through the pines. There had been the screech of a distant hawk. There had been the sound of her footsteps on the trail.

Then there was nothing.

Sage turned and went back down the trail. She began to hurry. She worked her arms through the straps of her backpack and discarded it while she rushed, shifting the branch into the other hand so as not to drop it. She left the pack behind without compunction. Finally, her nerves collapsed and she ran.

The only noise she heard as she made tracks down the valley was the gusting repetition of her hectic breathing. Something made Sage turn her head, and she saw a blurred golden shape sprinting toward her; its form was an