But then, the werewolf town of Sonequa is equally strange. Isolated from the rest of the modern world, they live a religious and medieval but peaceful existence.
Until another woman delivers the same story. And another. And another.
Why do the victims have no recollection of being attacked? Why does a woman dream of a demon in a field, and then wake up in her bed with grass in her hair? Why have the other people in the house not awakened when these strange crimes were supposedly committed?
When her sister is accused of having a 'flight of feminine fancy', Ada takes it upon herself to uncover the mystery before the perpetrator strikes again.
Enter Dylan McCoy, a handsome Pulitzer Prize winning journalist who is sent to write a piece on Sonequa. He strikes up an immediate kinship with Ada, the only other outsider in town. But when a woman accuses him of being the perpetrator of the crimes, everything unravels, and Dylan and Ada must fight for his innocence and, indeed, his very survival.
Loosely based on true events, this 40,000-word paranormal romantic suspense mystery is Part One of 'Strange Moon'. Part Two will be released on March 20th, 2014.
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Dylan bolted upright in bed. He was naked. He always slept naked even though there was no heating in here. He liked the feel of sheets against his bare skin. The night was cool when he went to bed. He had left the window open because the weather was warm enough.
Pity he was so disconnected out here; he couldn’t even check the Internet for the temperature outside. He hadn’t realized how dependent modern people were on the Internet – how it shaped their daily lives – until he came out here.
It was then he heard the scream.
It was a woman’s scream, and it came again from somewhere outside his door. A baby’s cry broke out next.
Dylan jumped out of bed, his heart racing. He was naked. That was a no no. He also had the most ferocious throbbing headache and his entire mind felt dull, as if he was having a hangover.
But I haven’t drunk anything last night!
He fought through the fugue in his skull and made to switch on the lights, and then he remembered there were no lights. He wasn’t used to stumbling around in the dark trying to light an oil lamp. He could make out shapes in the pale light of the moon, and so he reached for his boxers and put them on as quickly as he could.
He almost tripped on his way outside the door. The scream came again from Emily Gleeson’s bedroom. He rushed there, passing the baby’s room, which was pretty much in cacophony as well.
He pushed open Emily Gleeson’s bedroom door. Her bedroom was lighted, and he could see everything in stark clarity.
Emily Gleeson was standing by her bed, looking down in horror at herself. Her white nightgown was stained with streaks of blood – some drying, some still wet.
She looked up at him and cried, “What have you done to me?”
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