Luc knew, as part of her new delivery service, Kate had put Chuck in charge of delivering all the packages to their destinations. She had even bought a small pickup for that purpose. He watched her and Chuck disappear into the office area.

He heard the office phone ring and Kate began talking to someone. He had a pretty good idea what the call was about.

She poked her head out of the doorway. "The village elders are at the meeting hall. They want to talk to you as soon as possible," she said, and disappeared back in the office.

Luc was not eager to meet with the village elders. Rather, he was looking forward to seeing his grandfather, Matooska, the only parent he had ever known.

Kate and Chuck walked back into the main hangar area and joined him. She handed the clipboard to Chuck and smiled. "Everything got delivered, he just forgot to check them off."

Luc and Kate left the hangar and got into her Toyota pickup. She pulled out of the airport and headed for the village meeting hall.

The hall was where the village business took place and where celebrations were held. It was slightly north of the Manatuk airport and they got there in just under five minutes.

She pulled into the parking lot.

"It's pretty full," Luc said.

She parked near the end, and they got out.

"It's getting pretty chilly," she said as she zipped up her jacket.

Luc, too, felt a chill in the air. Winter was definitely on the way, he thought. He put his arm around her and they hurried across the parking lot and up to the entrance.

Lost Valley on Kindle Lost Valley on Nook The Turning A Vampire Thriller by April M. Reign (read on for a Sample) Am I dead? Nicholas thought. His mind faded in and out of consciousness. One minute he could see the chaos around him, and the next minute everything was dark. Like a strobe of flickering light, the world around him moved in slow motion. Nicholas closed his eyes tight before he slowly opened them again.

Briefly, he was able to focus long enough to become aware of his surroundings. What did he notice first? Was it the lights or was it the pain screeching through his body?

It all became clear slowly. Noise, confusion, people yelling orders to each other, and sirens blaring, all surrounded him. But, it was the consistent thudding in his head that sped up and then slowed down. That consistent inner pounding threatened to consume him. He knew it was his heart, but the labored beating sounded odd. It felt wrong. Nicholas tried desperately to remember what had happened to him. He tried to, but the insistent beating of his heart echoed louder than his thoughts.

He knew he was lying down. His body was shaking violently, but even that felt strange. His arms and legs felt heavily weighted down like an anchor. He could move his fingers and toes beneath the restraints that were confining his limbs, which in turn eased his mind that he was not paralyzed.

The sounds around him were deafening and the pain was unbearable. His blood-tinted eyes distinguished the bright interior surroundings. As the siren blared, he realized he was in an ambulance. Suddenly, the pain, the noise, and the horror that had broken open like a busted dam became secondary to what was more important-his wife.

"VICTORIA!" he tried to scream past the blood and saliva spurting from his mouth. The exposed artery on the side of his torn neck pulsated. He could not breathe, could not talk to the paramedics, could not stop shaking, could not stop bleeding-and he could not stop the pain.

He was unaware that his badly bruised, beaten, and bleeding wife lay in the ambulance following behind his. While he was fighting for his life, Victoria was fighting for three: hers, and their unborn twins.

Once the ambulance stopped, Nicholas heard doors open and slam shut. One second he stared at the ceiling of the ambulance and the next he looked into the dark, starless sky. With every shift and movement of the gurney, as the medics pulled him out of the ambulance, bolts of pain gyrated through his body.

The flashing lights played havoc with his mind. Everything was happening at once, everything was confusing, and everything moved in slow motion-everything except his heartbeat. The medics wheeled Nicholas into a room filled with digital sounds and chaotic chatter. The noises, the pain . . . he felt the room spinning at the speed of light.

Amidst it all, Victoria remained foremost in his mind. He tried to focus his thoughts on her to keep from fading. She was his rock, his stabilizer when he thought he was going to slip out of consciousness.

His body's gross, traumatic injuries and loss of blood were winning. Nicholas was losing his fight to survive. He knew his wife's voice would give him the strength to fight for his life. He tried to yell her name again, but her silence left him hopeless.

As he mentally fought to stay connected to his wife, Nicholas felt the room start to fade. He shook violently, yet again. The distorted sounds around him faded, and the lights dimmed. Then, as easily as letting out a sigh, he succ.u.mbed to his fatal injuries and closed his eyes. His body released its final breath. The heart-rate monitor made the high-pitched drone of a perpetual flat line. The medical team stopped, and the room became instantly quiet.

Every medical person in the room looked at the head surgeon. His face may have hid behind his surgical mask, but his eyes searched the faces of everyone in the room. Then the head surgeon glanced at the clock and called the time. The medical team felt deflated, even defeated, but how could they have saved him with injuries that were so severe?

"Clean up, folks," the head surgeon stated. "We may have lost him, but we have his wife in the next room. She's eight months pregnant and ready to give birth. Let's make sure we don't lose her, too."

Three members of the medical team left to a.s.sist with the delivery of Victoria Sh.e.l.ly's twins. A nurse pulled Nicholas's surgeon aside. "Doctor," she said under her breath, "I've never seen injuries like this. What do you suspect happened?"

"A wild animal-it had to have been. What else could've torn him up like that?" he replied to the nurse. Then he looked directly into her eyes and leaned in toward her as if to tell her something in confidence. "But I've never seen anything like that either."

The small hospital in Stockwood, Washington was usually quiet. There was the occasional tourist that arrived at the hospital due to a hunting accident, or a parent that was frantic because their child had broken an arm or leg. But, the wounds inflicted on this patient baffled the medical team, even disturbed them.

The noisy, frantic room where Nicholas took his last breath was efficiently cleaned and rearranged. A nurse covered his lifeless body with a blanket and wheeled him downstairs to the morgue.

A howling sound from the air conditioner duct filled the cold room. A dripping sink echoed against the walls as each droplet hit a metal pan at the bottom of the basin. Death made the air in the room of corpses thick. Nicholas was just one of many in permanent slumber.

Suddenly, there was a rush of air, a small movement. Nicholas' chest began to rise and fall with each breath of air he sucked into his lungs. His rapid blinking moved the sheet, which covered his face. His body was cold.

The white sheet over his body and face annoyed him. Nicholas sat up and pulled the sheet off his face in one swift movement. Unknown to him, his black nails were longer than usual. His irises were no longer brown but matched his black pupils. What he noticed was a ravenous hunger that was gnawing at his stomach. Nicholas scanned the room in every direction, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there.

"h.e.l.lo?" he called out.

His puzzled question echoed against the walls of the quiet room. His eyes darted from the drainage hole in the center of the tiled floor to the stainless steel door ten feet away from where he sat. He slid his legs off the table and stepped down onto the cold, white tile. Nicholas was alone-or, at least, the only thing standing-wearing nothing.

He took a step toward the door. He felt strange and uncoordinated, but he was confused by a strength he had never known before. His body was different-something had changed. Nicholas grabbed a lab coat draped over the back of a chair and quickly put it on.

Just outside his door, he heard two men talking. How could he hear people talking on the other side of a steel door? Their voices were loud, clear and distinct. His curiosity needed answers. He approached the door, held his breath, and leaned his ear to the cold metal.

The men were discussing how perplexed the doctors were with the mauling of two people in the hospital that evening. Nicholas had no clue what they were talking about until one of them said the phrase that revealed it all, a phrase that froze Nicholas right where he was and made his knees weak.

"At least the twins survived."

Instantly, Nicholas remembered why they were there. His memories flooded back like a crashing wave against his skull. It was the attack! Those wild human-animal things attacked us out of nowhere! We were helpless and left there to die.

Victoria didn't survive? My wife didn't survive? His mind raced around those words that seemed to echo in his head. Pain struck his stomach like an iron fist. He doubled over and grabbed his midsection. A mix between devastation and physical pain were holding him hostage.

"Victoria," he said reverently. He whispered her name. His quiet calls gradually became loud cries of anguish. "No, Victoria. No!" Nicholas crumbled to the floor.

His wailing caused the two hefty security guards standing outside his door to enter the morgue. At their feet was Nicholas. His dark brown hair plastered to his scalp from dried blood. His long, black fingernails dug against the tiled floor.

"Sir, what are you doing in here? Patients are not allowed in this room." The guard leaned down to help Nicholas to his feet.

Nicholas growled. Deep, throaty growls that he had never heard come from his mouth welled up from deep within his chest. The hunger pangs were unbearable and he suddenly felt a desire to hurt someone . . . or worse.

The Turning on Kindle Christmas Moon Christmas Moon Published by J.R. Rain Copyright 2011 by J.R. Rain All rights reserved.

Dedication.

To H.T. Night, for all his invaluable help.

Merry Christmas, little brother.

Christmas Moon

Chapter One.

I was cleaning house in the dark and watching Judge Judy rip some cheating ex-husband a new one, when my doorbell rang. Enjoying this more than I probably should have, I hurried over to the door and opened it.

My appointment-and potential new client-was right on time. His name was Charlie Anderson, and he was a tall fellow with a short, gray beard, bad teeth, nervous eyes and a peaceful aura. In fact, the aura that surrounded him was so serene that I did a double take.

I showed him to my back office where he took a seat in one of the four client chairs. I moved around my desk and sat in my leather chair, which made rude noises. I might have blushed if I could have.

I picked up my liquid gel pen and opened my pad of paper to a blank page. I said, "You mentioned in your email something about needing help finding something that was lost."

"Stolen, actually."

I clicked open my pen. "And what was that?"

"A safe," he said.

I think I blinked. "A safe?"

"Yes. A safe. It was stolen from me, and I need your help to find it."

He explained. The safe had been handed down through his family for many generations. It had never been opened, and no one knew what was inside. Charlie's father, now deceased, had left the safe to him nearly twenty years ago. Recently, a gang of hoodlums had moved into Charlie's neighborhood, and soon after, some of Charlie's things had gone missing. A gas can, loose change from the ashtray in his car. If he was a betting man-and Charlie a.s.sured me he wasn't-he would bet that these punks had stolen his safe.

I made notes. Charlie spoke haltingly, often circling back and repeating what he'd just said. Charlie was a shy man and he wasn't used to being the center of attention. He was even shy about being the center of attention of a smallish woman in her small back office.

"When was the safe stolen?"

"Two days ago."

"Where was it stolen from?"

"My home. A mobile home. A trailer, really."

I nodded. I wasn't sure I knew what the difference was, but kept that to myself. "And where did you keep the safe in your trailer?"

"I kept it behind the furnace."

"Behind?"

"The furnace is non-functional."

"I see."

"If you remove the blower, there's a s.p.a.ce to hide stuff."

I nodded, impressed. "Seems like a good hiding spot to me."

"I thought so, too."

"Any chance it could have been stolen a while back, and you only recently noticed?"

He shrugged. In fact, he often shrugged, sometimes for no apparent reason. Shrugging seemed to be a sort of nervous tic for Charlie. He said, "A week ago, maybe."

"Were you alone when you checked the safe?"

"Yes."

I studied my notes...tapping my pen against the pad. My house was quiet, as it should be. The kids were at school. As they should be. I looked at the time on my computer screen. I had to pick them up in about twenty minutes.

At about this time of the day, my brain is foggy at best. So foggy that sometimes the most obvious question eludes me. I blinked, focused my thoughts, and ignored the nearly overwhelming desire to crawl back into bed...and shut out the world.

At least until the sunset. Then, I was a new woman.

Or a new something.

I kept tapping the tip of the pen against the pad of paper until the question finally came to me. Finally, it did. "Why would the thieves know to look behind the furnace? Seems a highly unlikely place for any thief to ever look."

He shrugged.

I said, "Shrugging doesn't help me, Mr. Anderson."

"Well, I don't know why they would look there."

"Fair enough. Did you ever tell anyone about the safe?"

"No."

"Did anyone ever see you, ah, looking at the safe?"

"I live alone. It's just me."

"Any family members know about the safe?"

"Maybe a few do, but I don't keep in touch with them."

"Do you have any children?"