Raven Moon
Authors: Eva Gordon
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Dystopian, #Werewolves & Shifters, #Romance, #Paranormal, #apocalyptic, #zombie
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Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Raven Moon
by
Eva Gordon
After the Bane Series, Book 2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Raven Moon
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Eva Gordon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2014
Print ISBN 978-1-62830-212-7
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-213-4
After the Bane Series, Book 2
Published in the United States of America
Praise for
APOCALYPTIC MOON
,
Book 1 in the
After the Bane
series
Winner of the
Coffee Time Reviewer's Recommend Award
~Coffee Time Romance, 5 cups
~*~
“This story is full of awesome characters. You have Witches, Zombies, Werewolves, Shifters and magic! Plus a budding romance in the making. What more could you ask for?”
~
Brenda R.
,
Love All Things Books Reviews
~*~
“
APOCALYPTIC MOON
has scads of action—zombies munching on people, werewolves dismembering and decapitating zombies by the hundreds, raiding road warriors stealing, jealous ex-girlfriends going rogue, and warring werewolf packs battling each other for supremacy and may the best werewolves win. It all seems like a bit much to take in, but Ms. Gordon pulls it off with tight, concise writing and a lot of flare, keeping the reader transfixed from start to finish. If you love paranormal romance and dystopian/apocalyptic books, I whole-heartedly recommend you pick up this book. I loved it!”
~Manic Readers
~*~
“Thoughts on Plot: Wow talk about explosive, it moves and starts you going fast I loved it!”
~Becca, Wordpress.com
Dedication
To Lara
for her eagle eye and great comments
Chapter 1
Rave and her two raven shifter guards, Beccan and Cashel took to the skies and circled above Dirk’s werewolf pack. They had arrived at daybreak to Megamarket, a huge warehouse of a store that swallowed up mom and pop stores, food chains and everything-else-stores prior to the zombie apocalypse. You want it; they had it. Dirk’s Wolf Guard took out the remaining zombies inside the store, mostly former workers. The beta driver parked the grocery truck in the loading zone and the pack gathered available goods for their territorial home in Yosemite.
Outside the automatic door, a dozen zombies waited by the glass as if it was Black Friday and ‘Made in America’ human flesh was on sale for less than a dollar. Fortunately, for shifters, zombies ignored all animals, feeding only on human flesh. However, with Dirk’s pack in human form, they caught the zombies’ hungry attention. The agitated zombies barked stuttering moans as they banged against the glass.
Rave cawed and, shadowed by her raven guards, dive-bombed the zombies. She swooped and pecked a tall zombie’s ear. The damn earlobe fell off. Ooh, gross! Rave landed on the roof and her guards joined her. She fluffed her feathers in place and stared down. Time to watch the horror flick.
Dirk and five of his betas walked out a side door and he shouted at the small swarm, “Z-fuckers!”
The zombies twisted around and charged at a snail’s pace. The slow shuffling zombies were no match for the werewolves. Tonight was the full moon, so even in human form the betas bore long claws and their muscles broadened, stronger than usual. Dirk their alpha, could shift at any time, and if need be, he could go bipedal monstrous werewolf or remain human. On supply runs, like today’s, guns were used as a last resort. Man-made sounds attracted zombies as if somewhere in their empty mind was a memory that artificial noise indicated humans were nearby.
The Wolf Guard drew their swords and in moments, headless zombie bodies littered the entrance. The parking lot strewn with zombie heads looked like the werewolves had played a sick game of zombie croquet.
Dirk glanced at her and gave her a clawed thumbs up before returning to the store. She flapped her wings and clucked.
Prior to the zombie apocalypse, Rave would never had stepped foot inside Megamarket, preferring Parisian boutiques and other high-end shops. But, the world had changed and so had she. On turning twenty-three years just a month ago, she was determined to shed her pampered raven princess persona to serve a higher cause, saving humanity from the Bane. On their return, her parents, the raven king and queen would insist Rave go through with her spring nesting ceremony. Fat chance of that happening. She and her gay fiancé, Bram had cancelled it. Not that it would matter. Her parents would attempt to ground her for joining the Avian intel. Royal duties or not, flying the coop age for all bird shifters was twenty-one. It was about time they got over the fact she was no longer their little girl. If she was to someday take over the North American Raven Murder, she needed to prove she was worthy of the title.
Dirk walked out of the building and signaled her to scout out more abandoned stores. Rave complied with a loud caw. She and her team flew farther into what used to be the lovely California Wine Country. The gloomy gray mid-February sky and a chilled breeze reminded her more of England than the Golden State. She soared high from earshot of Dirk’s bellowing growl. He had ordered her to stay within sight.
Chill, this might be the last time we go on a wine tour.
Days spent wine tasting accompanied by spiced goat cheese and fresh baguettes or even better, dark chocolate clouded her mood. Sucky zombies ruined everything. Actually, not necessarily.
Cashel flew alongside her, clucking in their raven language. “Princess, there is nothing out there except wineries.”
She cawed the raven equivalent of ‘duh’. “Why not bring back several cases of good wine?”
“Princess, that’s not on our supply list.” He flapped hard to keep up with her greater speed. “Besides I’m sure they’ll get plenty of beverages from Megamarket.”
In human form, Rave would have rolled her eyes. Cashel was thirty years her senior and most tiresome. A glorified nanny her parents hired to guard her since she had her first shift. Now he was her official advisor, until he retired or she replaced him. Nonetheless, she was the alpha bird and snapped, “We’ll do both. Besides I have a hunch we’ll run into survivors.”
Finding survivors was always first priority over supplies. What would it hurt to look while locating a case of prize winning wine? The problem was convincing Dirk to drive toward the wineries for the caseload of bottles if no survivors were found. The besotted werewolf was always in such a hurry to get back to his precious mate. Werewolf alphas and their need for booty calls made travelling with them a pain in the ass. Hmm. Maybe she could convince Dirk, Dora, his wife would appreciate a gift from her hot werewolf husband.
Cashel struggled to keep up with her. “With all due respect, Princess, early flight sorties to this area failed to find any living humans, only zombie swarms. It’s pointless to continue.”
Beccan twirled in mid-air and then swooped upside down below her and cawed, “Why don’t we focus on farm equipment?”
“Good idea,” she said to her guard who had a crush on her or, was it his ambition to be married to raven royalty? Since her break-up with Bram, every available male raven prospective suitor showed off their aerial stunts in front of her or sent her tapes of their daring flight maneuvers with clocked speed. Superior aerial maneuvers and speed along with an exquisite nest offering was every female raven’s dream of an ideal mate. The nesting material wasn’t traditional straw or pine needles. Because of her royal status, nests made of gold, silver and fine art was her new normal. Please. The problem was she only dreamt of werewolf men. Such mixed shifter matings occurred but not amongst raven royalty. The psychiatrist her parents sent her to had not helped her come to terms with her fascination of the wolfen kind. Poor Dr. Milton. He had been sympathetic and meant to convince her parents she had shifter species sexual confusion but had no chance to tell them. During the beginning of the zombie plague, he’d broken his arm and before he could shift, zombies attacked and tore him apart.
Cashel interrupted her thoughts. “Look there.”
Rave glided over a huge white building in the hills near untended vineyards. The grass had overgrown with weeds. At one time, this place must have been mowed to golf course status. Her keen eyesight honed in on a fallen wooden sign that read, Veterans Home. A swarm of fifty or more zombies circled the structure. In front of the entrance, a white van was parked as if waiting to take the old folk on an outing. Too risky for anyone, especially the aged, to make a shuffle toward it. The elderly and infirmed never stood a chance against the first wave of zombies. She tilted her head. Huddled humans flashed in her raven foresight
Farther down the road more ghouls ambled toward the building. Arms outstretched and barking moans. Yep they’d caught human scent. Perhaps former caretakers or escaping survivors. Her adrenalin spiked. “Land on the roof!”
Upon landing, Rave shifted first, looked around and signaled with a nod for her guards to shift. Unlike, mammalian shifters, bird shifters had the innate ability to shift fully clothed and, most importantly, armed. She parted her coat, drew out her hand-held pistol crossbow gun. Her guards drew their HK 416 light carbine rifles. No sense drawing the zombies’ attention to their location. She peered down the three-story building.
A swarm of ten zombies moaned, banging at the door and the windows below. Yuck. Their putrid breath fogged the glass. Fortunately, a raven’s sense of smell was not as acute as a werewolf’s, making her less likely to puke; however, these ghouls were especially rank.
That’s it, after this I deserve to raid more perfume from the local cosmetics store.
The agitated zombies banged their heads against the glass. No doubting it. People were inside.
Rave walked to the center of the roof and stomped her boot three times, waited for a minute and stomped again. Nothing. Could the survivors be hunkered down on the first floor? “We’ll climb in through a window.”
Cashel frowned. “Princess, stay here, I’ll go down.”
Rave ignored him, and climbed in. Cashel swore under his breath and followed. On the third floor, she opened the door and quietly moved down the stairs to the second floor. She entered a filing office and tapped her boot on the floor. This time someone tapped the ceiling three times. She smiled at the guards. “See.”
Rave left the office and looked down from the banister. An older balding man and a woman with two prosthetic legs stood gaping at them.
The woman wore a mid-length green wool skirt over her prosthetic legs that clashed with her neon pink sneakers. She aimed a rifle at them. The older man looked just as menacing. He drew a 9mm, and a bloodstained ax tucked under his belt. The woman winced at the sound of hungry zombies, and then returned her attention to them. “Who the hell are you and where did you come from?”
She lifted her arms up in the air. “I’m Rave and these are my men, Cashel and Deccan.” Her guards bowed their heads, but kept their fingers on their weapons “Are there any more people?”
The woman who looked to be in her forties with light gray on her mostly brown hair nodded. “I’m Beth and this is Barney. Three of us left.”
Barney lowered his gun. He looked in his late eighties and squinted through thick glasses. His voice accusatory, “You don’t look like the cavalry. What are you ‘The Mod Squad’?”