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Once in a Blue Moon – A Shifter Romance

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Capítulo 1: Chapter 1: Ripley's Believe It or Not

Ripley's POV

A blow across her face made her eyes teary. Ripley snapped her head forward and spun, wooden stake biting splinters in her palm.

Would sanding it down make it less effective or more effective?

A useless thought as she watched the form almost disappear in the shadows.

Cardio—

She should be doing more cardio.

Ripley heaved in a breath and took off running after the fleeing vampire.

The creature lurched. It stumbled and sprawled across the pavement. Something dark and syrupy leaked from beneath it.

Ripley took the opportunity to overtake the beast. She leapt on him, wooden stake poised to strike his heart through the center of his back.

He scrambled, trying to get away from her, but Ripley was practically glued to his back. The vampire struggled, turning underneath her so that he could see her.

"Just wait a minute," he hissed.

"You don't deserve another second. All those innocent lives—"

"I know who did it!" he screeched. "I know who's responsible for their murder."

Ripley froze.

Her breath caught in her chest. Cold sweat broke out across her back. Was it the chill of the night air, or was it the possibility that this creature might actually know something? The thought sliced painfully through her mind, her heart. It couldn't be.

"You were. You murdered them. You took advantage of homeless people, and you picked them off one by one." She bit the words out tersely.

"You and I both know that's not what I'm talking about," he replied through heaving breaths.

Thick, dark blood was oozing from a split on his forehead and somewhere around his knees. Ripley watched it drip.

"I don't know his name," the vampire started.

Ripley rolled her eyes. She plunged the stake towards his heart.

The creature grabbed her wrist, stopping the strike. His hands shook, he wouldn't be able to hold her off much longer.

"It was a wolf. He's been stirring up trouble somewhere out west. A religious fanatic, something about a goddess and a sacrifice. A buddy of mine talked to him and this wolf told him he did it. Said he killed Ripley Tate's parents. He's looking for you." Each sentence was separated by a ragged breath.

Ripley took a steadying breath. These were lies. Desperate lies to save a worthless, murderous beast.

But how did he know her name?

How did he know about her parents?

She watched the blood drip like molasses from the ugly gash in his forehead.

Dead man's blood.

Good for poisoning creatures like skinwalkers and wendigos.

Dead man's blood.

Like the viscous, sticky pool at the bottom of the stairs in her parents' house.

Dead man's blood.

Like what collected in what was left of her father's rib cage.

She'd found her parents shredded, the house drenched in carnage. The cops had called it a wild animal attack, likely hogs or a rabid coyote. But they had been in the house, the front door shut and locked. No sign of forced entry, no sign of any entry at all.

Sometimes, Ripley could still feel that shock blanket around her shoulders, the rustle of it seeming loud enough to drown out the sirens. She could hear the gravel of the stony faced officer's voice as he did his best to comfort her.

"He's making his way to Nashville. Some little suburb right outside of it, I think. I had to look it up," the hissing of the vampire's shrill voice snapped Ripley back to the situation at hand.

"What else can you tell me?" she demanded.

"Let me live and I'll tell you everything."

Ripley made a show of debating, then climbed off.

The vampire laid back against the gravel, sighing with relief.

"You know The Goddess?" the vampire breathed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm familiar," Ripley snapped.

"This guy, he thinks that she's a fraud. That everybody is worshipping the wrong deity. It's pretty weird stuff, there's this whole idea that they should be worshipping Venus instead. Something about making a sacrifice to rectify the heavens or something, it's really a trip."

"What does that have to do with me?" Ripley demanded.

"I don't know." The vampire was still panting, chest heaving with the effort of each breath.

Ripley took a step closer.

The vampire's words began to come quicker, nervously. He was intimidated by her closeness.

"He thinks you have something he needs, I guess. He's been looking for you. It seems like half of my buddies have gotten the memo to be on the lookout for you. He's making his way to Nashville, says he's waiting for you there."

Ripley knelt beside the vampire. She placed a hand gingerly on his hair. It was wet and sort of greasy, but she did her best to not recoil.

She pulled out a glass vial and collected blood from the still-leaking wound. The creature's dark eyes were soft. Ripley brushed her hand comfortingly through his hair.

Once, those dark eyes had been human.

Before the whites of those eyes had turned maroon, there had been a beating heart in his chest.

She didn't know if he had always lived in St. Louis. She didn't know how long his body had been frozen at whatever age he appeared to be, mid to late thirties. The tattoos inked across his forearms were an older style, pinup girls in sailor's uniforms. That didn't tell her much.

He started to prop himself up on his elbows, strength returning. His eyes were brighter now, regaining some life.

Ripley placed a hand gently on his chest, stopping him.

Then, she plunged the stake through his heart.

Maybe at some point, she would have felt guilty. It felt like a mercy now. There had once been a human life inhabiting that body, but now, the shell held nothing but a blood thirsty killer. She was saving him from himself, the act a gift of brutal mercy. Or that's what she told herself so she could sleep more soundly at night.

This little nature trail that wound through the woods and under an overpass was mostly secluded. The vagrants that this creature had hunted had tents and encampments scattered throughout, but this portion of the greenway was empty, especially this late at night.

Sea salt worked wonders on making sure a body didn't find itself reanimated.

The flames that licked at the beast's clothes and skin would be disregarded. Bonfires were a normal sight here in this forgotten patch of woods. The perk to salting and burning the bodies of supernatural creatures was that the fires never spread. They hungrily consumed the abomination and then they extinguished themselves, waiting for the next meal they might be summoned for.

Ripley placed the vials of dead man's blood next to a box of dried wolf's bane in the tackle box that sat in the back seat of her blue and white F350.

Black boots crunched against crumbling asphalt as she walked to the driver's seat and climbed inside.

She cranked the engine and slid one of her mixed CDs into the player. She cranked the volume, some angsty country tune blaring through the speakers.

Tossing her cell phone into the passenger seat, she pulled out of the lot and onto the empty highway. She didn't need GPS to tell her how to get there.

Ripley was going home.

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