Tonight’s full moon is not only a supermoon, but also a blue moon!
It’s a supermoon because it will be closer to the earth, and thus brighter than usual. It’s a seasonal blue moon, being the third full moon in a season with four full moons.
Tonight’s full moon is also known as the sturgeon moon. It seems the giant lake sturgeon is more easily caught at this time of year.
To celebrate, I thought I’d share a snippet from my upcoming novella Under a Hunter’s Moon. The story occurs during a full moon in October.
The novella is now at the proofing stage, so I’m hopeful I can release it soon. It’s an exclusive for my newsletter subscribers.
Click here if you’re interested in becoming a subscriber.
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“Shit!” She gripped the sides of the window, her mouth hanging open.
“What? What?” Vasilyev frowned in confusion.
“There’s something loose out there. It just attacked a woman.”
“What?!”
The Russian shoved her away from the slit and peered out. “There’s nothing out there,” he said after a moment. He stepped back so she could see for herself.
Pearl peeked out again. The courtyard was empty now, but there was a dark smudge where the woman had fallen.
“No, I’m sure I saw what I saw. There’s blood on the ground,” she told the Russian. “Right by where the cars are parked.”
Vasilyev took another look. “Nah, that’s just a shadow. Or one of the cars is leaking engine oil.”
“It’s blood. I’m telling you, I saw something attack a woman.”
“Well, we can stay here until they come for us, or we can get out while nobody’s around.” He marched to the spiral staircase. “I know what I’m doing.”
She hurried after him. Luc Fortingris had to know by now that she was not in the ballroom. It was only a matter of time before he sent his people to search the keep. Vasilyev was right that they had to leave now.
At the ground level, the Russian cautiously opened the door of the keep and stuck his head outside. She followed him out.
They slunk toward the cars. Vasilyev had suggested that they hot-wire one of the vehicles and use that to escape. She agreed that seemed their best option for getting away.
As they neared the cars and the smudge on the ground, Pearl caught the whiff of a pungent, metallic odor. Freshly spilled blood. Her heart rate accelerated. The Russian’s sense of smell wasn’t that keen. It took a while before his nostrils dilated. He craned his neck.
“Smell that?” she whispered.
He nodded, his eyes wide. His bravado wilted.
She took the lead. Hunkering lower, they moved along the shadow cast by the castle’s east rampart. The coppery smell grew stronger.
Pearl scanned their surroundings, on high alert for the animal. A guttural cough caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. The cough was followed by the unmistakable sounds of flesh tearing, and bones cracking.
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