Red Moon Rising

0. prologue

Chapter Song: Dark Red - Steve Lacy

XX

In the thick night air, even his cigarette smoke glows red beneath the blood moon. The tall man lingers at the end of his breath and listens to the stillness that follows. Lake Superior is motionless, looking up to the full moon that seems like it might drop into the water at any moment. Beyond the pebbled shore, the trees are silent as if empty, no frogs or cicadas to lend a pulse to the night.

The tall man listens and hears only the shift of polished stones beneath his boots and the faltering wheeze of the body at his feet. When he takes a breath, it's to finish off his cigarette, which he flicks onto the shuddering chest of the dying man. The cigarette smolders against the white shirt, giving a short hiss to the blood pooling there before going out completely.

Another set of heavy footsteps breaks through the quiet air, and the tall man turns to give a nod.

"You're late. It's already done."

"And?"

"See for yourself."

The newcomer heaves a sigh as he squats down by the dying man. He wheezes just like the other man, though he earned his bad lungs from emphysema rather than multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach. Lifting a dirty baseball cap to scratch his balding head, the newcomer looks up at the tall man. "I can't believe he's still alive."

"The ritual is keeping him from dying. He'll go when the moon sets."

"You really fucking did it."

"I really fucking did." The tall man grins and lights another cigarette. He's been trying to quit, but this is a night worth celebrating. This night, everything changes. Stepping forward until his boots just barely stir the edge of the water, he finishes in a few long drags and drops the glowing butt into the lake. When he tilts his head back toward the sky, the tall man feels something rising in his throat—something between a scream and a howl. He begins to laugh, and he keeps laughing, head thrown back, until the newcomer begins to shift uncomfortably and takes a step away. "Strike me down, you fuckers!" The tall man screams at the sky. "Come and get me, you miserable pissants!"

"Hey," the newcomer crosses his arms and looks nervously out over the lake, but the only ripples stem from the tall man's shifting boots. Above, the deep red moon looks back. "Don't get carried away."

"Relax," he closes his eyes and smiles. "The gods don't own me anymore. Unless you don't believe I pulled it off..."

"I believe it, I believe it," the newcomer waves appeasingly. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

The tall man nods knowingly and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Let's go. I want to celebrate."

"We just leave him here?"

"The ritual is complete. We don't need him anymore."

"And you're sure this won't lead back to us? If Lena found out..."

"You didn't tell Lena about any of this?"

"Jesus, no," the newcomer looks strangely at the tall man as they begin to walk back to the edge of the forest. "She'd hate me for it. Probably would leave me."

"So no one knows but you and me. That's good."

"Ritual murder's not really a good look."

The tall man pauses and lets his hands fall to his side. His thumb slides over the cool metal edge of the hammer, worn smooth by the frequent press of his skin, and his forefinger curls around the trigger of the revolver. The newcomer doesn't hear the ratcheting click over the sound of the pebbles and his own labored breathing. When the shot comes, he doesn't get time to consider it. The tall man is merciful—he was a friend after all. He didn't deserve to suffer like their sacrifice on the shore. He takes a moment to consider the ruined baseball cap and the sight of the other man's face planted in lake rock. He'll find other friends, friends without leverage against him. It's best that they parted on good terms. The other man was too soft-hearted for any of this, and his guilt would have caught up with both of them eventually.

The blood moon filters through the tall canopy of pine needles to give the forest a soft, hellish glow. Breathing in the biting fragrance around him, the tall man smiles, feeling for the first time in months that he can relax. He is his own master now, and no one—not the gods, not fate—can take that power from him.