Chapter 1

Well Met by Moonlight

The Vampire’s Return

Storm CatWell Met by Moonlight

Moonlight shone down from a cloudless sky as Thomas Harris walked through the winter forest. He moved slowly, scanning the trees and ruined houses around him. Most of the buildings were broken down and decrepit; the last time people had lived here had been over a hundred years ago. They might have stood longer in a different climate, but this was what was called a temperate rainforest, where the damp drove everything to rot, and the trees grew with incredible vigor. Towering giants sprouted out of what had been homes, while vines and shrubs tore down the walls that weren’t held up by roots.

Once, this had been a thriving town, but it was now hardly recognizable as the work of human hands. A thick layer of snow further blurred and confused things, coating everything in a uniform blanket of white. Only the occasional unnatural right angle or patch of wall, freed from snow by a sheltering evergreen, or rising untouched above the drifts, made the place’s past obvious.

Thomas was an odd sight as he moved slowly through the knee-deep snow. He was wearing sturdy boots, plain dark trousers, a plain white shirt, and a lightweight jacket. The frigid night should have had him bundled up in thick layers, but the cold didn’t seem to touch him. His jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail that fell halfway to his waist, and his fair skin was almost as pale as the snow around him. His face was young, unlined, looking no older than twenty-five. His eyes, a piercing blue-gray, swept his surroundings, but his alertness had no trace of fear.

He was hunting.

The snow had slowed his pace, but made tracking easy, and he was hoping to chance on a set of deer tracks, if not the animal itself. He carried no gun, though. He didn’t want to shoot the deer, oh no.

As he moved, his breath did not steam in the freezing air and his chest neither rose nor fell.

He needed to catch the deer alive to obtain what he needed from it, for he was a vampire.

Unfortunately, his hunt had proved entirely fruitless thus far. The night was still young, so he didn’t despair. Still, he hadn’t even found a track in the snow yet, which was more than a little frustrating. This was the deep forest; good country for deer, and for elk too. There should be plenty of prey about. So far, though, there was no sign anything larger than a fox lived in these woods.

Suddenly, a flicker of motion froze him in his tracks. The night was a confusion of moonlight and shadow, and even his supernatural vision couldn’t immediately make out what it was. It moved again and he sighed as he recognized it. A wolf. Wolves had blood, true, but they were far too difficult and dangerous to hunt as he did, with his bare hands and the power of his mind. He was quite likely to be bitten, and he very much preferred to be the biter in these situations.

With a smile and a shake of his head, he prepared to move on, then paused. They didn’t make good prey, but wolves were superb predators. Perhaps this one could lead him to what he sought. It was already out of sight, but it would leave tracks that he could follow.

Feeling better about his potential dinner, he set out along the wolf’s trail.

* * * *

Ian Christiansen bounded through the forest, enjoying the challenge of moving in the deep snow. He felt good. He had eaten well yesterday, so the success of tonight’s hunt hardly mattered. It was good simply to be out in the woods, running beneath a moon that was waxing towards full. Unlike many werewolves, he loved the night of the full moon. He had never tried to deny or fight what he was. He was a wolf, and even when he fell far away from human thought, being a wolf was good.

He’d encountered humans who thought that werewolves were monsters while in wolf form. That was utterly ridiculous, of course. They were wolves in wolf form, and wolves were simply animals. No wolf, were or otherwise, would prey on humans if any other prey was available, even in these hard times. Not that you could ever convince most humans of that, of course. But that thought led to a bitter line of old memories, so he pushed it aside. He was feeling too good to let any worries get him down.

Between the trees, he glimpsed motion. For a moment he thought it was Justin Ackerman, his hunting partner, who should be moving somewhere nearby, seeking out his own meal.