Moon Rise Ch 01

It was the screaming on my cell that finally woke me. Little obnoxious minions screaming "Bee-doh! Bee-doh!" at max volume. I moaned in protest, and opened one eye, trying to gather my wits about me. I consoled myself with the fact that it was this alarm. I knew I was in trouble if it was the army drill sergeant singing to "bitch, get the fuck up!" That would mean that my back-up alarm kicked on and I was far later than I wanted to be. I smiled, feeling warm and sated, and happy, content with post-coital energy. It had been a lovely night...

Opening both eyes, I turned my head and stopped cold. A pair of flat, once blue eyes were staring glassily back at me, and his skin had already turned a slightly sallow looking shade. I jerked completely awake, shocked and sickened at the same time.

"Um... fuck... Keith?" I reached out but couldn't bring myself to touch him. Tears of revulsion and self-loathing sprang to my eyes, and I jerked my satin robe from the foot of the bed and pulled it around myself. I grabbed my cell, shutting off the annoying little alarm, and hit the first number under my list of favorites. It wasn't a favorite, nor did I use it often. It was there for times like this... when I couldn't think any farther past "I need help".

"Cleaners," came a cool, feminine voice on the line.

"Clarice, I need..." I gasped into the phone, but couldn't bring myself to verbalize what had happened.

"Oh, Tempi..." Her voice lost the cold, professional demeanor and became compassionate. She knew I hated calling. "I'm sorry, girl. Yeah. I'll send a team. Did you need to see Dr. Valerian, also? Y'know what... I'ma just make you an appointment at one, okay? Up to you on how you use his services."

"Kay," I mumbled.

"Good girl."

I got dressed and there was a knock on my door only twenty minutes later. I opened it silently to the black polo and black jeans-clad clean up team, who looked as unassuming as a pack of carpet cleaners or house painters. The large utility van in my drive simply read "Clean Sweep Residential Cleaning Services" on the side. Ah, truth in advertising...

"Where's the pick-up, Ms. Moon?" asked the team lead, a tall, dark haired guy I barely looked at. I gestured to the open door of my bedroom without a word and he jerked his chin in the direction, signaling the team to extricate the dead body and any evidence that Keith, the guy who had had the misfortune of coming home with me last night from the club, had ever been here. There was no worry that anyone looking into his disappearance would get any information from anyone working at the club... like these people, they were all Underground. They wouldn't betray me. Certainly not to the human authorities.

"What happened, Tempest?" The dark haired guy asked gently, putting a hand on my arm. I tried not to flinch. I looked up into his dark eyes. They were gentle, kind, and full of compassionate understanding. Not a glimmer of judgement. Then again, he was a werewolf, and I knew for a fact that there were very few of Pack Members that hadn't had a full moon accident in their lives. His name was Patrick, and he was kind. We had met many times in passing. While I tried to avoid most Cryptids on general principal (or just sheer personal discomfort), we couldn't help that there were some places just safer for us and we all naturally congregated to those locations whether we meant to or not. Rick liked the forest for his runs. While I avoided it on full moon nights for obvious reasons, I loved watching the sun rise over the trees when I needed to remind myself that I wasn't completely damned. I'd seen him emerge from the trees, all tall and tan and naked more than once. It was a lovely sight, especially in the early morning sun. I could watch the sunrise, I reminded myself. I wasn't a monster.

Tell that to the guy they're wrapping up in the body bag, Moon,

my snarky inner voice whispered insidiously.

"I... thought I was good," I answered softly. "I mean... I've been super busy at work and sure, I have been stressed out but, I didn't think..."

"That you were that depleted." He gave a little nod and looked back to where his team was carrying a large dark bag with my date's remains in them out of my bedroom. "Tempest, you know... if you're in a bad way like that..."

"I didn't know I was!" I burst out, suddenly angry. I was furious this had happened. I could not believe I had let it, that I hadn't been paying better attention. I wasn't a kid anymore. I could control myself, manage my condition. "And what are

you

gonna do about it, Rick? You offering? Your Alpha Bitch going to be okay with that?" I saw the flash of gold in his dark eyes that told me I hit a nerve, and it quickly died back down as he controlled his

bestia interiore

, his inner beast.

"Maybe. You never know." He gave a quick smile, a flash of white teeth. "But any type of Crypti is better than a human. We can take it. They can't. You know that. You get mixed up with one of them and this shit happens. All it takes is one bad day..." His eyes got very sad and distant and I felt a pang of guilt. I knew he'd had a girlfriend once. I didn't know the details but I knew that the Alpha of his pack had made a blanket decree that their wolves were not to date non-supernaturals lest a lover's quarrel or lack of "dinner options" on a full moon end up badly. But the Alpha female had doubled down and added none of their wolves would date outside the pack without express permission and dispensation from herself and her Mate. That Rick wasn't offering to take me to dinner and a movie made it even less likely she was going to be fine with one of the more eligible members of the Pack was offering himself up as a midnight snack to a misunderstood Buveur D'âme.

"Not better... not in every way," I said quietly, looking away, saying the one thing no one ever wants to admit aloud. There was a price for all of the advantages to being a Cryptozoic, there was a distinct lack of... something. Some Crypti anthropologists and psychologists tried to quantify what it was about humans that drew our attention; that made them so appealing, and the symbiotic and more than vaguely parasitic relationships that could develop. There were magical and scientific theories... no actual answers that could be proven. For myself, I thought it was far more simple... it was their humanity. The philosophical arguments about the status of the soul of a Cryptid was a long one and each culture had their own story about how they either came from or lived alongside humanity. All believed that, over time, they either evolved away from, or never had been, human. We possessed many of the same emotional and mental faculties, so many things made us similar, but never the same. It was blasphemous in the extreme to most Crypti nations to imply that they were human in any way any longer.

I, personally, thought that regardless of if we had all been one species at some point, or if we never were, it was the innate light in their human souls we lacked and craved. They may not be as strong in any sense, but they were... more. Somehow. Perhaps it was their short lives or their innate physical vulnerability? Perhaps it was something less quantifiable. None of us were really immune. But Crypti like me, that survived by a parasitic drive, were drawn more than most. I often wondered if it was because we were, in some way, far less human.

You know it's because you're a monster. You don't need someone to tell you what you know.

That ugly little voice in the back of my head rarely gave my self-esteem a moment of peace.

The gentle hand on my arm made me shake myself and I raised my eyes to Rick's. His were soft and compassionate. He gave me a small, understanding smile. "I know," he said very softly. And I knew he did. He had that look I had seen only a few times. I was never sure if that's what I looked like when I got too swept up with a human. Did my eyes warm and glow like that, while looking so sad? Have so much desire and longing, but a soul-crushing knowledge our closeness could destroy the delicate thing of beauty we cherished so much? And don't misunderstand me... it's not that I thought I was in love with Keith or any human I ever had been with. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could really love

anyone.

But that feeling... that desire coupled with the need to protect, to care for, to want only the best for... all those things human poets boast being the best of love... all of that... yeah. Too often. Crypti relationships just didn't have that. We didn't connect to one another like that. Take any reason you like; two parasitic entities always failing to be symbiotic and harmonious, forever longing deep down to instead dance in the bonfire of human innocence? Creatures too long-lived and world weary to be dazzled by the innocent joy of real love with one another? The actual, physical and emotional incapability of producing the emotion "love" but wanting to simulate the act, hoping it to manifest it into reality? Pick your preference. Any and all were equally true. The brief, tragic beauty of human life, of a human soul, made humans so incredibly beautiful to all of us... but also so very dangerous. And Cryptid partnerships just lost something without the constant rush to the grave, lost passion, because one (more often both) partners were always likely to be damaged by the darkness in which we lived.

Now, that isn't to say we don't get married, form partnerships, and have children together. Are you kidding? Crypti fuck like bunnies, regardless of their feeding habits. And while the Old World mentality of keeping like with like has lingered throughout the years, but just like the ever changing terrain of human society, even we have learned to diversify for the betterment of our people. In this day and age, my parents wouldn't go to the other Buveur D'âme families to match up their sweet daughter with a well-mannered, loyal Incubus. Nope. We had

options

. We could date, get to know anyone in our community and choose our own partners... for the most part.

But just like any other coming of age culture, we had elders who loathed these changes, who said ridiculous and racist shit like: "If you intermingle, the monsters you will make! The last thing anyone wants to see is a literal Chimera, because a Naga decided he absolutely HAD to have the Rakshasa girl, Well once her whelp is born she is just a used, empty meat suit. Fit for a Tricksters' meal, perhaps. Little more. She is sullied." Sullied? Please. Spare me. But Rakshasas also tended to hail from the Middle East, where, just as in the human world, cultural evolution was a slow-moving train. And for the record, no crossbreeding had ever truly produced a "mistake" or "abomination" in that sense. Usually, a child born from a mixed race Crypti couple favored the appearance and skills of one parent, if it was a shifter-type, or had an aptitude for both the parent's skills if one or both were more magically or energetically skilled. The very, very rare cases of Gemini shifters happened from time to time, but they were rare, and considered incredibly special. They completely gained the abilities of both parents, assuming both could shift, and had more than one form. It wasn't without price; the more different the animal shapes from one another the harder it was for the kid's body at first when they hit puberty. My friend who ran the calls for the Cleaning Service, Clarice, was a Gemini. Her mother was an Undine, a water shapshifter, and her father was a Hugin, a raven shifter. She liked to joke that she was literally the result of when a bird and a fish fell in love. "Where do they make their home? Puget Sound. Duh. Plenty of trees

and

water!"

"Sir?" One of the Cleaning Service workers I didn't know by name politely spoke behind Rick, who took a step back, and schooled his features back into their polite, professional mask. "The scene is contained, and all remains tucked away and ready to go. His cell was located, bagged and tagged after the SIM chip was removed. Identification and all other personal effects collected. Ms. Moon's property has been swept for any other obvious DNA and trace evidence. We should be good to go."

"Thank you, Travis," Rick said with a nod and the other guy gave me a small, commiserating smile and a nod before turning back to head out my front door where the rest of the team was closing up the van with its newest cargo inside.

"Clary set you up with the Doc, Tempest?" Rick asked as he headed to the door. I sighed and nodded. My obvious reluctance to admit I had an appointment with the local shrink to the Cryptozoic community made his lips twist wryly. "I know... but she's good. It helps, I promise."

"Thanks, Rick," I said softly, holding the door for him. He gave another small smile and gave my arm another small squeeze on his way out. I know he meant it to be comforting, but I couldn't contemplate anyone really touching me right now. I knew he could feel the warm flush underneath my skin, a damning flush that directly stemmed from Keith's last moments.

As I closed the door, and listened to them load into the van and leave, I tried to think of when and how I had lost control last night. The thing was, I didn't remember, and that bothered me. Generally, I was fully aware of exactly when I fed... it happened when my partner orgasmed, usually. When they were distracted, and their energy flared brightest around me. I syphoned tiny quantities when I came by myself with a partner, if they were touching me, assisting... but it wasn't the same as actual intercourse, when I had hands (or other body parts) upon them, and I could just...

I gave myself a full body shake, the mental imagery of having sex with Keith already sparking my hunger. I should be completely sated... that I even felt slightly drawn to having more terrified me. Yeah, I may not want to go and see Dr. Valerian, but there was no doubt I needed to. I shuffled back into my bedroom, pausing at the door. The bed had been completely stripped, which didn't shock me. They were thorough, the Cleaners. Hell, I had heard of whole moving crews having to be called for the complete removal of a whole room full of furniture to hide a supernaturally over-powered fight that ended in a death. But secrecy was a hard-fought thing in this day of cameras, internet, and media. Many of us knew it was only a matter of time before we could hide no longer... but we would strive to stay in the shadows as long as we could to avoid the inevitable panic that would ensue. The likelihood humanity was just going to accept that there were, in fact, monsters all around them was never going to end well. And no one wanted to imagine the cost of what losing our anonymity would do, the death toll that it would bring on both sides... least of all, me.