Wolf Moon: The Rise of the Werewolf
Lycanthropic – 2
by Steve Morris
Post-Apocalyptic / Horror
Date Published: 1 April 2018
Publisher: Landmark Media
Werewolves run wild in London. Riots grip the city as vigilantes and protesters take to the streets.
The Prime Minister is determined to contain the disease before it spreads further. She fights back ruthlessly with all the tools of government at her disposal.
But Leanna’s plans are only just beginning to unfold. The leader of the werewolves and her army of Wolf Brothers are already one step ahead of the authorities.
And for the ordinary people caught up in the conflict, daily life becomes a fight for survival.
WOLF MOON injects an original and exhilarating new twist into the werewolf genre.
Author’s Bio
Steve Morris has been a nuclear physicist, and a dot com entrepreneur, and is now the author of the Lycanthropic werewolf apocalypse series. He lives in Oxford, England.
My Review
5 stars
After the nightmare of New Years, London has been turned on its head. Many are still trying to get out of London while others are dealing with what happened to them. The Prime Minister is trying everything she can to stop the werewolves but it is an uphill battle.
Then you have Leanna. She is determined to evolve humans into the next best thing, werewolves. The problem she faces is lycanthropy is not easily transmitted through bites, scratches, or blood. Also, humans are weak and Leanna learns that most die from the infection. But she is determined to take over everything with her Wolf Army.
I strongly recommend reading Wolf Blood before you read Wolf Moon. You will be lost and will lose the connection to all of the characters. I loved this story. There are so many players and all have their own events shaping them. But I have to say Leanna is one crazy woman.
If you love a good werewolf story, look no further. Wolf Moon is a great sequel to Wolf Blood, both great additions to the genera. I can’t wait to see what Steve Morris has in store next.
I received a complimentary copy of this book. I voluntarily chose to read and post an honest review.
Excerpt
Chapter One
King’s College Hospital, Lambeth, South London, New Year’s Day
Police Constable Liz Bailey slowly blinked her eyelids open. Blinding yellow light burned her eyes and she screwed them shut again quickly. Darkness was better. She was somewhere warm and soft, and her head felt fuzzy like she was inside a cocoon.
A cocoon. That’s what she needed now. A warm, dark, safe corner that she could curl into and hide. Too much had happened, and she just wanted it to stop. The world began to fade as she drifted back into the tender arms of sleep.
‘Are you awake?’ asked a soothing voice, rich and smooth as honey.
The voice might have been real, or just a dream. Liz ignored it, sinking back into the softness that enfolded her.
‘How do you feel?’
She didn’t know whether hours had passed since she’d first heard the voice, or just the beat of a heart. The voice was gentle but insistent and impossible to ignore. She forced her eyelids open a crack. The bright light still burned, but not as badly as before.
A nurse was leaning over her, a concerned look on her face, a well-worn caring look. ‘You’ve been in a deep sleep since you arrived in the Emergency Department,’ said the nurse. ‘We administered stimulants, but you didn’t respond. We were wondering if you were ever going to wake up.’ Her mouth turned up at the corners in a faint smile, deep dimples hollowing her caramel-coloured cheeks.
‘I know you,’ murmured Liz. ‘I’ve seen you somewhere before.’ Was it in a dream? She couldn’t remember. She remembered nothing.
The nurse smiled again. ‘It was here,’ she said. ‘In the hospital. My name is Chanita. I treated your colleague, PC David Morgan.’
Chanita. Liz’s lips moved soundlessly. David Morgan. Strange names. Names from long ago, a lifetime ago. ‘He’s dead,’ said Liz. ‘Dave Morgan is dead. The wolf bit him. I saw it myself.’ Had that really happened, or was it part of the dream? She hoped it was a dream, but a coldness in her heart told her it was real. ‘So tired,’ she muttered. ‘Light hurts.’
The nurse frowned at that. ‘Let me take a look at your eyes.’
‘Need to sleep,’ said Liz. She felt her eyes closing again, lead weights pulling them shut, the warm darkness dragging her back into wonderful oblivion.
A hand shook her arm gently. ‘Open your eyes for me,’ said the nurse.
It took a colossal effort to force them open. A light shone into them and she snapped them shut again. ‘Too bright.’
‘You have acute photo sensitivity,’ announced Chanita. ‘And your eyes are dilated with a pronounced yellow tint. Do you have any idea what that means?’
Liz shook her head. She had no idea what anything meant.
‘Have you been bitten?’ demanded the nurse. ‘By a wolf? Did it bite you?’
A wolf. An image presented itself to her, a huge black beast, its yellow eyes glowing in the dark like searchlights, its teeth bared, tongue dripping with drool. A memory, not a dream. A memory from last night. Had the wolf bitten her? No. She had thought it would, but it had sniffed at her and walked on by. Then it had run. Run at the others.
She snapped her eyes wide open, ignoring the painful stab of the lights. ‘The others! My colleague, Dean, the children he was protecting? What happened to them?’
‘They’re all okay,’ said Chanita calmly. ‘They were brought in at the same time as you. Your colleague is being treated for a head wound. The teenagers have minor injuries.’
Liz allowed her eyes to drift closed again. They were safe. She was safe.
‘We’re going to keep you in for observation for a few days,’ continued Chanita. ‘One of the doctors will be round to see you later, but at the moment we’re very short of staff. A lot of casualties were brought in during the night after the riots and the wolf attacks.’
Liz curled up in the bed. Riots. That’s right. She had been in the middle of the rioting. She remembered the petrol bomb, the injured people, the looters. She had done her best to help them. She had done something terrible too. But what? The answer was just out of reach, and for now she wanted to keep it that way. It would come to her, in its own time, when she was strong enough to deal with it. Now was the time for sleep.
Chanita said something else to her, but it was too quiet to hear, coming from too far away. The nurse spoke again, but Liz let the distant voice wash over her. The darkness was calling her, and couldn’t be refused.
She continued to drift in and out of sleep. How many times, and for how long, she had no way of knowing. Other nurses came to her bedside, and a doctor too. They questioned her, but she couldn’t remember what they asked, or how she answered. All that mattered was sleep.
At first the sleep was sweet and healing. Her battered body craved the relief it brought her aching bones. Her exhausted mind uncurled into its soothing embrace. Then the dreams began.
Fire, darkness, screams – a vision of Hell. Yellow eyes, bright in the night. The stuff of nightmare. Yet this was no nightmare, this was memory. A giant wolf, panting hot breath in the frigid air. An explosion. Police officers wreathed in flames. The fighting in the alleyway. It was coming back to her, the memories unfolding one by one like blood red roses.
What had she done? The horror of the memory flooded over her in a wave. The moon shining on her skin, its silver rays filling her with superhuman energy. And then the violence. She had attacked those vigilantes with her bare hands. Drawn dark red lines in their flesh with her fingers. Smacked them to the ground like flies. Left them for dead.
The moon had changed her. It had made her a monster, yellow-eyed like the wolves. And Chanita knew.
Liz sat up in bed, suddenly alert. The bright hospital lights half blinded her, but she narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth and hauled her legs over the edge of the bed. It was like dragging huge weights up a hill. An IV drip tethered her, feeding liquid into the back of her hand, but she pulled the tube out and dropped onto the floor. Her legs sagged and she had to grip the metal frame of the bed to stop herself falling. She held it for a moment, regaining her balance, and used it to drag herself forward. She had to get out of the hospital before Chanita returned.
A privacy curtain hung around her bed. She drew it aside and peeked out at the hospital ward. It was bedlam. Every bed was full, and nurses and doctors hurried around tending to patients. No one took any notice of her. She looked around for Chanita and saw the nurse attending to a patient down the far end of the ward. Liz lurched off in the opposite direction.
She reached the ward exit and half walked, half fell down the staircase. A woman at the bottom of the stairs frowned at her, staring at her eyes, but Liz pushed past, following the signs to the main exit. Everywhere people hurried. Patients, doctors, visitors, nurses and support staff. The bright lights overhead burned down relentlessly and every limb felt dead with exhaustion. She sat down on a plastic bench in the corridor to rest for a moment, before coming to her senses.
Chanita knew. As soon as Liz was discovered missing, they would come for her. They would catch her. And what would they do when they caught a monster? An image of villagers wielding pitchforks and flaming torches sprang into her mind. She lurched back to her feet, forcing the exhaustion aside, ignoring the pain in her eyes. The corridor twisted and turned, intersecting with other corridors like a maze, until eventually she pushed out and found herself in the open air. To her surprise, it was still dark, still the early hours of the morning. She must have been in the hospital for only a few hours, unless days had somehow passed.
She looked around and stumbled over to a black taxi. The driver had the window wound down and she placed her hands firmly on the metal door to steady herself.
‘Where to, love?’ asked the driver.
‘What day is it?’ she demanded.
‘Eh? You what?’
‘What day is it?’ she asked again.
‘New Year’s Day,’ said the man cheerfully. ‘Blimey, you must have had a big night out.’
New Year’s Day. Only a few hours had passed since the rioting. Since she had become a monster.
‘So where to, then?’ asked the driver.
‘Brixton Hill,’ she told him, climbing into the back of the cab. Her home wasn’t far from the hospital. Just a short journey and she would be safe again.
‘Bloody hell,’ said the driver, peering at her in his rear-view mirror as he pulled into the early morning traffic. ‘You look like you’ve been in a battle.’
I would like to thank Reading Addiction Virtual Book Tour for the opportunity to read and share this book.
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