No Gods Left to Beg

On October 9th, it becomes clear, the world is in trouble.

An overwhelming sadness takes hold of every soul. Cries of anguish fill the air. Babies did not enter the world today, and the rotting smell of stillborns permeates everything.

This is a promise fulfilled, a warning unheeded.

A curse upon us.

The Goddess is angry. She has turned her back, severing her love and withdrawing her protection. The moon bleeds dark, and the earth trembles beneath our feet. No stars appear this night, no wind stirs the trees.

Only the stench of death.

The promise of the Crimson Moon has descended.

The myth we heard at bedtime, the whisper long forgotten, the tale the elders no longer fully remembered, engulfs us and devours us whole.

I run as fast as my legs will carry me, my brother strapped to my back. The attacks come at the speed of light. Word has already spread across the realms, and evil arrives to take what was once ours.

The kingdom of the werewolves has fallen.

Vampires, elves, dragons, even the faeries demand their stake. I watch in disbelief, helpless, as fire swallows the place I once called home. And the vultures consume what once was.

I hear the cries of the dying, the agony of regret, and I will myself to run faster…faster…faster…until…

Until I jolt awake.

My mother’s face is inches from mine, her screams cutting through the haze. Across the room, my father takes his final, agonizing breath, mouthing a single command: Run. The shriek of my sister being dragged into the darkness tears through my soul.

Our safe house has been breached.

Moonlight streams through a gaping hole in the wall, and the heavy door has been ripped clean off its hinges.

I scramble out from behind the storage cabinets and crawl into the open, my brother still secured to my back.

I run until my legs give out...

“Goddess, please forgive us,” I scream into the darkness.

“Please forgive us.” I cry until there’s nothing left, rocking on my knees.

When the tears dry, there is only darkness. I need a better place to hide. I need to leave these woods, but not tonight; I have nothing left. I’ll leave at dawn.

I glance at my brother, and I’m grateful he’s asleep. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s done nothing wrong.

How could the Goddess punish the innocent?

Tears run freely through the night. Just yesterday I was putting the finishing touches on my wedding. I was to marry the man of my dreams.

I was one of the lucky ones.

I’ve known my mate my entire life. We came into the world only days apart, childhood friends destined to become lovers. We had played together since birth; as adults, our wolves learned to fight and hunt as a team.

We were the perfect pair, blessed by the Goddess.

I close my eyes and remember our first kiss, the first time our wolves performed the pre-mating ritual, how our scents mingled with the urge to become one.

Every wolf within a thousand miles invited to our wedding. The future Alpha and Luna celebrated with unmatched grandeur. Women in their finest gowns, men tailored to perfection, children watching in hushed delight as I walked down the aisle.

My Jace, handsome, waiting at the altar, biting his nails, nervous but thrilled we would finally mate, to finally claim me as his. It’s all we talked about for the last month.

A single tear runs down my cheek.

I hope he’s still alive.

My lungs gasp for air. The sadness of the broken bond engulfs me; I can no longer feel my pack. I try, over and over, to mindlink; I push my mind out into the ether, searching for a surviving member of my tribe, begging for a connection.

The silence is maddening.

Sleep won’t come, so I sit and watch dawn break. The red-rimmed moon lingers, eerie, low. It’s time to move. Light is coming. I need to find civilization, give my brother a chance at survival.

I will head west, to California. A massive state, vast enough to blend into the human crowd and disappear.

After a few weeks of hitchhiking, hunted meals, and running through unfamiliar woods, I make it to Colorado.

“What do you think about staying here a few days, little man?” I ask, tickling my brother’s stomach.

I’m running on empty. I need rest, work, and stability; our resources are completely dry. I’ve relied on charm to get us scrap meals and the occasional warm porch, but charm doesn’t buy bus tickets.

I check us into a homeless shelter, playing the part of a single mother running from an abusive husband. The human woman running the place takes pity on us and doesn’t ask too many questions. She even hands me some used clothes when she realizes we arrived with nothing but what’s on our backs.

Or maybe it’s the smell.

Finding work while caring for a three-year-old proves nearly impossible. Childcare costs more than half these jobs pay.

“Don’t worry, Jack,” I whisper, staring into my brother’s hazel eyes. “I promise, we’ll be alright.”

A few days later, I walk into a dimly lit lounge.

“Hey,” I call out to the giant of a man behind the bar. His eyes roll slowly over my body. “Still looking?” I ask, pointing to the flyer in my hand. He nods, flashing a wide grin, and waves me over to sit.

I exhale and settle Jack on the table and hop onto the stool across from him. I listen as he runs through the rules and hands me a schedule.

“Can you start tonight?” he asks. I nod. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “Easy money for a sexy young thing who knows how to move her hips.” I smile and head for the door, waving goodbye, telling Tony I’ll see him later.

Stripping isn’t an honorable path, but it puts food in Jack’s mouth and keeps a roof over his head while letting me raise him by day. I pay Mrs. Thorn to watch him on the nights I work. She runs what’s best described as childcare for the children of the night.

Streetwalkers, illicit peddlers, exotic dancers, and other oddities.

Jack adores her. She’s short and stocky with a broad, ample bosom, and he’s all too happy to rest his head against it.

After a month dancing, I’ve made enough to get Jack and me a small apartment. It’s not much, but better than the shelter.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the dust begins to settle.

I make a few friends at the club and start to feel almost normal. I even start to think about staying in Colorado a while longer.

It isn’t so bad here.

“Karis, you’ve got a booking in the champagne room,” Tony calls out, handing me the tab book.

I roll my shoulders back, adjust my breasts, check that my makeup is still in place, and push through the door.

Morphing into Desire, my sultry alter ego.

The moment I cross the threshold, a hand shoots out from the shadows, wrapping around my wrist with crushing force and jerking me forward.

A low, lethal voice cuts through the dim light:

“What pack?”

Welcome to Book 0 of the Two Halves to a Soul series.

This is not where the story begins. It is certainly not where it ends.

This is where a Luna is crowned Alpha.

Where a Luna devours the Moon.

Welcome to No Gods Left to Beg.