Blood of the Moon: After the Bane, #3

By Eva Gordon

In a world ravished by zombies, animal shifters vow to save humanity. Dora, a medical doctor, a werewolf's mate, and a powerful witch, is their best weapon against the undead. Dora and her team leave the safety of their sanctuary to obtain DNA samples of the new Z-phage variant.

The mission starts well until Dora discovers all her witch powers are gone. While escaping a fast-moving horde, a vicious gang captures her. Their destination: Las Vegas for the zombie games. Dirk, Dora's werewolf mate, desperately searches for her.

Can they survive the apocalypse, old enemies, and an unknown force that continues to rob humans of technology?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eva Gordon
• Release date: Jun 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393541431

Eva Gordon

Eva Gordon writes genre bending paranormal/fantasy/steampunk and historical novels with a strong romantic element. She loves to create stories that combine her passion for mythology, steamy romance, and action/suspense. Her imagination takes her from one universe to the next. Thus far, she has several series lined up as well as single titles waiting in line for production. Eva has a BS in Zoology and graduate studies in Biology. When not in her den writing, she can be found teaching animal lore at writing conventions, at work at the raptor rehabilitation center, wolf sanctuaries, or to satisfy her inner Hemingway on some global eco adventure.

Book preview

Dora’s last patient left her clinic, a twelve-year-old girl found hiding in the rubble of Seattle and fostered by a she-wolf. Dora treated the young girl for malnutrition and post-traumatic stress or what she labeled, OTS, ongoing-traumatic stress. Not unusual since they lived in the midst of the zombie apocalypse. Flesh-eating undead hordes marching from city to city, suburb to suburb and, in recent days, heading into the great outdoors. Their home, Yosemite National Park. Even the shifters, safe from zombies while in their animal forms, had to deal with the constant threat while in human form. The children in their compound were kept as isolated from the dead as possible, but no matter how normal their living arrangements, they still had nightmares about monsters, real flesh-eating monsters. Only after stamping out Z-phage would she and Dirk consider having children. Their child should never have to worry about monsters.

Dora peered out the window as the girl and Tanya, her foster mother, returned home. Dora always worried zombies would break through the blockades. She too suffered from OTS on a daily basis. Attacked by a zombie and bitten long ago in the hospital, along with running across the country chased by hordes of zombies merited her condition. Not to mention, the scars she bore from other bites.

Her night terrors had decreased, not because as an ancestral witch she turned out to be immune to Z-Phage, but because Dirk, her hot sexy alpha werewolf husband, made her feel safe. Not that she needed his protection twenty-four/seven. Since discovering her witch powers, or, what she called her witchmacallit, she had become everyone’s protector. Zombies were not the only danger. Tankers, vicious gangs of humans who pillaged and killed the weak, and the Kindred, aka werewolf hunters, pursued her husband’s kind. The fanatical Benandanti werewolves bent on killing witches added to her worries.

Dora turned her attention to the Bane Newsletter. She read the latest on the whereabouts of the new, far more dangerous zombie. Human/chimpanzee hybrid zombies. A better, updated version of the slow, moaning, clumsy ones—thanks to a vaccine gone terribly wrong. The superior zombie ran faster, climbed like a maddened ape, and had a taste for shifters as well as humans.

Dang. They had spread from Texas throughout the southern states and some had made it to the Rocky Mountain region. Unlike the zombies that turned into zombicles in the snow, this new strain of creatures didn’t freeze.

Willow Bothwell, the older bumbling but lovable Scottish witch, walked into the clinic supported by her cane. Willow had little magic talent, nonetheless her knowledge and mentoring had improved Dora’s skills. Dora?

Dora put the newsletter down. Hi, I was just closing for the day. Come in. Would you like tea?

No, lassie. I have verra good news. I created a potion which will help us hide from the Benandanti werewolves.

Do you mean against detecting witches or humans?

Aye. Witches, my dear. It will mask our essence and scent from their kind.

Not that I think they are an immediate threat, but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.

Did you not say you and Rave will go on in search of a sample of chimpzombie hybrid DNA?

Next week, if Dirk approves, which is highly doubtful unless of course, he comes with. I don’t think Talon will allow him to take the plane since fuel is too scarce.

That’s it, lass. Dirk trusts your flight skills, but he and Maddox worry about the Benandanti still hunting you and Rave.

Dora sighed. The witch hating enemy werewolves would never give up. Why not try the potion, especially if it’ll make Dirk more open to us going on missions?

Her eyes lit up and the music of Mozart blared through the room. A lively piano concerto. Willow’s one magical gift of producing music wasn’t always under her control. I’m sorry. Willow pressed her eyes closed in deep concentration, making her ancient face even more wrinkled. The volume lessoned. She smiled. There.

At ninety years of age, lately Willow had bouts of dementia, which made Dora thankful her magical talents consisted of music. No harm there. Unless, you happen to be a werewolf with sensitive ears.

Dirk dashed in. Doc? He lifted a brow at the old witch. Hi, Willow. Everything okay?

Aye, I was just telling Dora about my herbal potion to keep the evil Benandanti werewolves from detecting witches.

He gave Willow a scrutinizing look. If it protects Dora, thumbs up.

Dora winked at him. Good you agree, hon.

Babe, it’s getting late. Let’s go home.

Willow smiled and turned to Dora. No worries. Come by in the morning.

We’ll walk you back, Dirk offered.

You two go on, I’ll be all right.

Dora wrapped her arm about hers. Nonsense, it’s our pleasure.

She worried about Willow slipping on the icy pathway. Their gated and guarded community provided protection against meandering zombies who, by pure chance, made it up the perilous Yosemite cliffs to their sanctuary. Snow offered the best protection against zombies, however, the spring thaw had commenced. The last two days had been sunny, normally a welcome respite from the severe winter, but now sunshine meant zombies. If TV weathermen existed, they’d say, seventy-five degrees with a chance of zombies.

A zombie weather forecaster is a brilliant idea, lass.

Just joking.

Willow stopped and rubbed her back. Aye, but a worthy goal.

Dirk smiled. I can carry you if you wish.

Lad, save that for your wee wife.

Dirk winked at Dora. Actually, not a bad idea.

Dora elbowed her towering husband, built like Roman god, Mars, with flaming red hair and powerful muscles. She and Dirk as witch and werewolf mate could communicate telepathically, but while she thought of his body, she clicked the Dirk channel off. I’m not so wee. Remember, I stopped thousands of zombies from including us on our menu.

Dirk laughed. True enough. Although, once your battery runs out, you return to being wee.

Right. Once she used up all her energy, she became just as helpless as any other human until she re-charged. Depending on how much witchamacallit she used, it could take several hours to several days to recharge.

At Willow’s doorstep, a helicopter whirred closer to land. Theirs. Howls echoed.

Dora stared at Dirk. Is the howling what I think it is?

Danger. He cocked his head and frowned. Talon wants the Wolf Guard and all militia shifters to the grand hall.

Oh, dear, said Willow.

Don’t worry. Nothing our militia and one powerful witch can’t handle.

He smiled at Dora. Want a ride?

Only if you stay human.

Okay, but I’ll be slower.

Only by a parsec. She narrowed her eyes. I prefer the she-wolves not see you naked.

Dora, we are mates, but I like that you are still jealous.

A few she-werewolves who had joined their community eyed him, but worse glared in resentment at Dora. Fear of her witch powers kept them at bay. I’m not…

Dirk lifted her and dashed toward the once popular hotel turned headquarters a mile down the road. Even in human form, he could run a good forty miles per hour or more. She shut her eyes and held on. Not for fear of being dropped, but suppressing her nightmares of the circumstances on how she met Dirk. A blind date while running from zombies.

Prior to the zombie apocalypse, one met their future spouse in college, at work, through mutual friends or online. They had met in an underground government lab where they were used as guinea pigs. Her because of her immunity to Z-phage and Dirk, because scientists thought werewolf blood offered a cure for the disease. There she first communicated telepathically with Dirk. He explained she was a member of the Aradia witches, and marked for death by the Benandanti werewolves by age twenty-seven when a witch’s powers first blossomed. The shock of learning Dirk was a werewolf, she a witch and the world overrun by zombies still rattled her brain.

Panic rose like a sneaky wave, engulfing Dora and taking her to the past. The lab facility. Hiding in the bathroom. And zombies everywhere. Her pulse quickened. On-going traumatic stress reared its ugly head.

Dirk stopped. Dora…talk to me. He switched to telepathy. Dora, it’s over, you’re safe. Are you with me?

She opened her eyes and glanced around. They stood in the parking lot, not far from where the militia entered headquarters. Safe.

Dirk gently set her down and smoothed a loose hair back from her face. What are you thinking about?

I wish I had a time machine to stop the zombie apocalypse, she mused.

He frowned. How would we have met?

You might have come in for your annual rabies shot.

Most likely I would have gone to a veterinarian.

Not in wolf form, babe.

True, little miss smarty mouth. Even so, we were fated to meet. He winked. We can tell our kids we met on a blind date.

A bring-your-own-weapons-to-kill-zombies date.

Pretty sure they’ll think it was a cool way to meet.

Umm. No kids until Z-phage is eradicated.

Dirk shrugged. You do know it might take several generations before we rid the world of billions of zombies?

He seemed to have forgotten, their child, if a boy, would be a dragon shifter, which everyone feared. One of the reasons, werewolves never married witches. Not sure how much truth there was in the legend, but the zombie apocalypse wasn’t the time to find out. Dora took a long breath. We better go.

Dirk held her tight. Last week you awoke twice screaming. Maybe you should sit this one out? Let us cowboys do the zombie wrangling.

I’m okay. Better than staying at the clinic, waiting for him and the others to return from a zombie run.

We need to get you to a doctor, a head shrink.

Thus far, they had two veterinarians, five dentists and nine former nurses, but no other physician. We really do need to find a psychiatrist, but not just for me. The entire community needs therapy. We all suffer from OTS. I ran out of anxiety drugs.

Aren’t Willow and you working on herbal remedies?

Yes, but none are strong enough for the more severe cases. She wanted to tell him about her last patient, the twelve-year-old girl, who had been on the run since the apocalypse and still slept with an ax. That is, when she slept. But Dirk already had too much on his shoulders. He too had nightmares.

A raven swooped down, landing on the snow. Rave materialized. Dressed in black leather pants and black stiletto boots, she looked stunning. Ravens unlike other shifters had ancestral magic to return to their human form fully clothed. Dora hoped to study that spell and use it to dress shifting werewolves. And herself, once she learned how to shift into her familiar. Willow had pointed out the shifting spell to her, and Dora thought it wouldn’t hurt to try it.

Hi.

Where’s Maddox? Dora asked. Rave’s overprotective werewolf mate shadowed her every move. At least Dirk gave her space. That is, well-protected space. No zombies and no witch-hunting Benandanti werewolves.

He’s already inside. She snorted. And no doubt fuming I’m fashionably late.

Dora frowned as they walked toward the meeting. What’s going on?

Zombie trouble.

They entered the grand hall. Maddox posted a map of Yosemite and surrounding communities. Talon stood before a podium. The alpha leader signaled his nephew, Dirk, her and Rave up to the front.

How bad? asked Dirk.

Rave and her team spotted a swarm about ten miles south of Mariposa. We are evacuating everyone. At the zombies’ slow pace, we’ll have plenty of time.

Dora rocked slightly. How many?

Rave answered. At least a thousand zombies.

Fuck, said Dirk.

Talon continued. Phoenix, Falco and Rave’s team are monitoring the area from the sky. He sighed. It’s a new moon, so the danger is grave for all non-alpha werewolves. Only alpha werewolves could shift anytime. Betas and lower ranks could only shift during the full moon, making them vulnerable to zombie attacks. While in human form, the zombies could not distinguish them from an actual human. Meat was meat.

A beta stood. Count on me, sir.

The rest of the soldiers agreed.

Talon turned to Dora. We are counting on your powers.

Dirk reddened. Sir, Dora still has nightmares.

Talon snorted. If I had my way, Phoenix would be home cooking me warm stew, but unfortunately, this is the zombie apocalypse.

Uncle, Phoenix is a hawk and safe from being eaten.

Dora flies with even greater speed. Talon countered.

She communicated with him telepathically. "Please, hon. We are all in danger."

You’re my wife and you’re not ready to go back into action.

Time for me to get back on the horse, or rather the broom.

I’m fine, Dora said.

Rave cleared her throat. I’ll fly next to Dora the entire time.

Dora smirked at her. If you can keep up.

Yeah, well, whatever, raven wannabee.

Maddox, Rave’s British werewolf husband patted Dirk on the shoulder. Don’t worry, mate. We’ve got them covered when they come down to preen their feathers.

Rave gave him a sardonic look. We’ll be too busy saving your asses to preen.

Got that, sister, said Dora.

Talon turned to Dirk. Load up the Wolf Guard and any weapons you need. You leave in five.

Dirk met Talon’s eyes. Yes, sir. He narrowed his eyes at Dora. "Babe, I prefer you tend to the clinic."

I know, I know, I’m your mate above all else. I promise to stay alive.

I’ll hold you to that promise.

I’ll meet you there.

Dora returned to Willow’s place where she kept a room of witchy things, including her enchanted broomstick. She went in the back entrance and grabbed the willow wood broom. The Halloween decoration-looking broom had twig bristles and a silver handle. A gift from her mentor.

Willow tapped the witch resource center door with her cane. "Lass, is that you?"

Bound by magic, the witches could communicate telepathically as Dora could with her werewolf mate. Her mentor must have been worried to communicate mentally. Yes, I’m flying off to a zombie hunt.

Willow entered and sighed. Oh dear.

Do you sense something bad? Not that Willow had much talent for precognition. Nonetheless, she looked more worried than usual.

The Benandanti werewolves are still out to kill us.

Rave and Maddox had rendered the last of the Benandanti packs helpless. Billions of zombies should have been her greatest concern. Don’t worry, they don’t have a leader and without the blood stone they can’t find us. Besides, we are going on a zombie hunt.

You and Rave are flying farther inland for a DNA sample of the new zombie. What if you run into the Benandanti there?

That’s not for a few days. Anyway, we plan to collect a sample and leave. Two hours tops.

Just promise me, before you go, you’ll take the potion.

Rave had destroyed the last bloodstone, but who knew if the weird werewolf cult hid one unbeknownst to all? I promise. Willow had made many potions for her, mostly harmless veggie drinks and sweet powders that reminded her of powdered candy, but the one for sleep helped her get at least five hours of good rest.

Remember to trust your spells and take care, lass.

Don’t worry. Dora held the broom high. I have plenty of witchy air miles.

Dirk and Maddox drove past the school bus filled with the few Mariposa residents headed in the opposite direction toward safety. Falco airlifted a few by helicopter, and thus far, no casualties or immediate danger to their lives. Fortunately, zombies only hunted humans. The livestock and chickens were safe. The bird shifters would stay and tend the animals until it was safe for the residents to return.

Five miles from their farms, Dirk rolled down the window and wrinkled his nose. The stench of rotting Z-fucker—walking corpses. By now, Dora and Rave probably had eyes on the swarm. Damn. The sun had set and darkness made everything even creepier. Nothing scared this werewolf, except for his mate losing her magic and ending up devoured by zombies.

Dirk pressed his foot on the accelerator of his all terrain sports car. The caravan of mostly pickups and farm tractors strained to keep up with him.

Maddox snorted and quipped in his British accent. I’ve been tempted to clip Rave’s primaries to keep her safe in my den, but apparently in raven culture that’s grounds for divorce.

Now, that’s an idea.

What?

I could take an ax to Dora’s broom.

Maddox shook his head. Trust me; pissing off a witch is without a doubt worse than ruffling a raven’s feathers.

I suppose you ought to know.

As a Benandanti knight, I never confronted a witch, but I’ve heard challenging a thousand zombies is easier.

Yeah, my wife can kick ass. Good to know. Maddox had been a member of the Benandanti werewolves, committed to killing all the Malandanti or witches. The Benandanti were also the ancestral enemy of raven shifters. Who knew an enemy werewolf would marry Rave, once a raven princess?

Ahead, a circle of light glowed on the road. Dora’s magic. Hey, babe, everything okay?

Yep, I’m in the tree above the light. Tell Maddox, Rave is next to me.

Dirk slowed the SUV and stopped in front of the light. Dora and Rave are up there.

Maddox rolled down the window and inhaled. Ah, yes.

Dirk smiled, enjoying the essence of his mate as well.

They stepped out of the vehicle and Rave landed beside her mate, then Dora on her broom floated down to join them.

Maddox growled. They are less than a mile away.

Rave kissed his chin, and then stroked his extended fangs. I love it when my bossy alpha is pissed.

Maddox kissed her forehead. Love, you need to take flight soon.

Dora nodded. Even I can smell the stench. She swallowed and whispered, Their souls beg for death.

Dirk draped a protective arm over her shoulders and kissed her head. It wasn’t easy to handle flesh-eating zombies, but knowing their souls were trapped inside was a curse Dora had to live with. Soon, they’ll be in the next plane of existence.

Explosives? asked Maddox.

Dora shook her head. No. I think I can take care of this swarm without wasting too much ammunition. A bonfire along with some loud music will draw them in.

Dirk nodded. Ben, Lila and John, set that old barn on fire.

Dora shook her head. Allow me. She closed her eyes. Old barn, spare us from dire, now light up with fire.

Dirk smiled. So cute, babe. Her simple made up rhyming spells were lame but always effective.

The barn ignited as if struck by a tomahawk missile. Flames shot up and warmed the cold night air.

Now for some Metallica, said Dirk. He fed a CD into the player. Metallica’s Enter Sandman blasted from the speakers merging with the roar of the fire.

The shifter militia stood at their stations. Behind barricades, atop trees and buildings and in their vehicles. Rifles aimed. Swords ready. Fangs prepared to rip off zombie heads.

Drawn to the flames and music, the zombies shuffled toward the bonfire.

First a few, then hundreds, and more. Moaning, mewing, and growling. Fire meant humans. A few stopped to sniff, but then meandered with the rest of the swarm. Thousands. Where the hell had they come from? Did Dora have enough energy to destroy this many as she had once before?

Dora answered his question with telepathy. I’ve got this, hon.

Rave whipped out her sketchpad and drew. The raven shifter enjoyed drawing zombies, explaining the dark art honored their spirits.

A zombie paused and left the sea of zombies to reach Rave.

Maddox shouted, Bloody hell, shift!

Rave rolled her eyes, raised her pistol, and shot the zombie between his eyes. She put her book away. Fine. In raven form, she flew to the top of a fence and roused her feathers into place.

Come on, Z-fuckers, Dirk muttered under his breath.

Dora stood transfixed, her long rich brown wavy hair floating in the air, her arms pointed toward the flames.

Babe, do you want us to engage or do you have something up your sleeve?

Without moving, she spoke as if possessed. Get everyone out of here.

You too, Dora. You can use your witchmacallit from a distance.

Don’t worry, I’ll be protected.

The hell you are! There are thousands, and babe, the zombies like your smell as much as I do.

Dirk moved in to grab her, but an electrical shock sent him flying through the air and landing on the ground. Fuck. "You could have said no thanks, babe."

Maddox helped him up. We need to get the bloody hell out of here.

Not without my wife!

Dora floated above the horde as they followed her toward the flames. Please, Dirk, I’ve never tried this spell. If it goes wrong, you will all freeze to death.

Shit. Dora had grown from a helpless human to a powerful witch with the capability to destroy thousands of zombies at once. However, that power came with a cost. If her battery drained, she once again became a helpless human until she recharged. If she didn’t kill every single one, she’d be screwed.

Give me a mile perimeter, then return. Give me ten minutes, alone.

How about I stay?

No!

Dirk stood, but his legs moved like rubber and he stumbled as if inebriated. Maddox and Hank, a bear shifter, grabbed him and loaded him in the back of a pickup. Maddox ordered everyone, human, bird shifter or mammal shifter to leave.

Dirk tried to shift to get back to Dora, but she had rendered him weak as a lamb. Babe, we are going to have a long discussion on spousal abuse.

Satisfied all, including her overprotective husband, were a safe distance away, Dora landed on a tree branch. The stench of the zombies overpowered her and she nearly gagged. She closed her eyes and focused. Pocket full of posies. The sweet floral scent of flowers filled the air. A simple spell, Willow taught her. Ah, much better. She glanced at the truck as the player boomed Metallica’s Of Wolf and Man. Off. Sorry, hon. Distracting.

Below her, the zombie moans grew into a crescendo. Those that stumbled into the bonfire sparked into nothingness. The wisps of souls left the flames, crossing the veil. A few of the departed offered her smiles of gratitude for releasing them from hell on earth. So many had entered the bonfire the flames died down. Smoke billowed into the air.

Dora closed her eyes and focused on a spell she’d read in Willow’s grimoire, but never used. The Glaciem Cadaver. Come, she shouted to the hungry swarm of various states of decomposing zombies. Some wore tattered clothes, others only bones and sinew. Too many looked like recent zombies, their shoes intact and a few carrying backpacks and even weapons. Sadness filled her heart. Humans who had managed to hide for a long time, but in the end, bitten.

Dora extended her arms toward the zombie throng.

Three bolts shot from her to the sky and then curved down in an arc, silver glitter spreading over them like confetti. Once covered, a zombie froze and then another. A chain reaction of the living dead, freezing zombicles. In a matter of seconds, the area looked like a gruesome ice sculpture exhibition.

Dora sighed. The spell worked. The plants and flittering moths had not frozen, only the zombies. Still, not knowing the outcome, having her living companions too close to the spell had not been worth the risk.

Then the expenditure of energy proved too much, Dora’s vision blurred, she clutched her broom and clung onto the branch. Carry me down. The branch gently broke and floated her down. On the ground, she contacted Dirk. Get here, now. Before the frozen zombies melt.

An ice breaking party? On our way, babe.

One zombie near the smoldering wood thawed.

Dora wielded the branch and smashed it, ice crystals fell to the ground.