Date: Sun, 5 May 1996 15:07:46 -0500 (CDT)
X-Sender: kaychang@mail.eden.com
To: max@maxie.com
From: kaychang@eden.com (Kay Chang)
Subject: Blood Moon Rising--2/2

     It seemed as if though the painting came to life then. The man's dark 
eyes moved, darting back and forth, and the arms stirred ever so slightly.
     Moira quickly darted forward and grabbed the book from his arms, then 
sprang back with the cry "Vlkeow!" and watched in satisfaction as the eyes 
slowly closed and then opened again, becoming the inanimate painting again.
     Her smile was cruel. From behind her, she heard their voices:
     "Aw, c'mon T-Bone, don't be such a big baby. I can't believe you're 
chickening out after all this time! Get a grip!"
     "But Razor, haven't you been listening at *all*?"
     "Yes." Razor's voice sounded tired, as if he wanted to tell T-Bone to 
Shut up and stop whining. "Yes, I have, but I've heard it so many times 
before I could recite it in my sleep. Now move!"
     There was the sound of a body being shoved. A muffled curse. Moira 
quickly hid. But she had forgotten something: the book lay unnoticed on the 
table nearby where Callie lay.

     Razor looked at his partner with disgust. The burly blond kat was 
staring at the door with a wide-eyed terror that he had never seen and never 
thought he would see on his face. This buisness about the priest had really 
upset him.
     "C'*mon*," he snapped, suddenly loosing patience. It wasn't like him, 
to snap at his friend like this, but he was getting tired of it. "Move."
     They entered the room and saw the bound and gagged Callie. Her eyes 
were wider than T-Bone's had been, and she struggled to tell them something 
through the gag. "Mmmphmm! Mmpghff!" she squeeked. Razor hurriedly untied 
her bindings and gag. "Behind you!" she gasped the minute it was off.
     The door swung slowly, omniously shut. Moira leaned against the door, 
back resting lightly against it, arms crossed over her chest in an oddly 
mortal and modern stance. There was a slightly triumphant smile on her face. 
"Welcome, my two friends," she purred softly, watching them with fierce 
golden eyes. "Welcome to my little play--"
     A loud *boom* interuptted her. Annoyed, she turned, but the door 
blocked her view of whoever was on the other side. A deep male's voice 
called to her.
     "Ahhhh, Moira, s'lor m'sairon. Touir, mas pierwl?"
     She stiffened, her hands clenching and grasping spasdomatically. 
Extreme hate transfigured her face. Her lips drew back to show abnormally 
long and sharp fang teeth, and the SWAT Kats both recoiled. Razor's mind 
flew back to the horror movies he so loved to come up with the only word 
nessacary: Vampire!
     She didn't seem to notice or remember that they were there anymore as 
she yanked the door open hard enough to pull it halfway off its hinges.
     Valtoru stood there, eyes blazing. Once more he spoke in the language 
of the Old Ones: "Moira! Solfe mewlstr! N'slie olpefsn! Kejadflur nosdreos 
oweirls! Ty aosd!"
     Moira laughed. "How wrong you are, brother," she purred again, for some 
reason opting to speak so that her prisoners could understand her words. She 
seemed to grow taller, eyes flashing gold fire. "I WILL triumph. And now you 
are helpless to stop me!" She whirled away and pointed at him, once more 
crying in that strange language another chant:

                    "Lakerij Melso!
                    Valtoru, leld torko
                    Moira sleodk!"

     A strange look passed over Valtoru's face as she said these words. He 
straightened and looked Moira straight in the eye.
     "You will not win, sister," he said softly, chosing as she had to make 
his words understandable to the SWAT Kats and Callie. "I will see to that."
     With that, his entire form vanished. Just a slow fading of color, and 
then he was gone.
     Moira laughed again, then turned to them. "Ah, my pretty ones," she 
hissed, advancing, "I hunger . . ."
     "Hey, waitaminute, lady!" Razor cried, holding up the book forgetting 
something?"
     Moira's eyes widened. "Give me that book!" she hissed, reminding him of 
the time the Pastmaster had searched desperately for his Tome of Time. She 
dropped to a feral crouching position, dangerous teeth bared and claws 
extended. "GIVE ME THAT BOOK!!" she shrieked again, coming closer.
     T-Bone automatically tried to help his partner when Moira lunged. He 
met her in mid-air, but the female vampire's strength, was, of course, too 
much for him. She hurtled him into a wall, breaking through it and 
shattering one of teh wooden supports for the roof of the building.
     Moira lunged for Razor again, and he only barely dodged the enraged 
vampiress. Moira crashed into the wall, leaving a sizeable hole, another 
supporting beam shattered. The roof began to tremble; one more hit like that 
and it would come crashing down.
     Once more she lunged, and once more he dodged. One more beam was 
destroyed. The roof began to moan and a loud, unpleasant *crack* sound, and 
the next thing Razor knew, there was something large and indescribably heavy 
on his back and the book was gone from his grasp.
     ::My back,:: he realized suddenly. ::I've got a ten ton or more pound 
slap of rock and plaster on my back. My spine . . . broken . . . can't feel 
anything . . .:: he clawed feeblely at the floor just ahead of him, as if 
though he expected to be able to pull himself out.
     He could dimly hear Callie's voice screaming.
     Callie had watched in mute horror as Razor had been suddenly buried 
under the piece of roof. She screamed, suddenly finding her voice, and 
backed up, eyes wide and shaking her head and denial . . . and fell directly 
out of the window.
     The building continued falling apart for a few minutes, then went 
suddenly, terribely still.
     Moira staggered forward, eyes glazed and unfocussed. "Ah. Damn the one 
who built these walls."
     She stumbled forward, and then stopped when she saw T-Bone.
     He was almost totally buried in plaster and wood and rock, only his 
head, upper shoulders, and left arm was visible. Blood stained his cracked 
helemt and a small dark red pool of it surrounded him. She was unfazed, but 
only because she had seen blood before, seen this horrible type of 
mutilation before. She shook her head. So he was dead. She started to move 
again when her foot touched something soft and sticky.
     She looked down and this time she recoiled. Razor lay half buried under 
part of the roof that had fallen in, one hand reaching before the other as 
if though, in the last moments, he had tried to claw his way out in a 
desperate attempt to survive. The torn floor before him and the splinters 
and blood on his claws proved mute testimony to that. His helmet had come 
off, and now the bandanna was slightly askew on his face. She knelt beside 
him and easily shoved the slab off him, eyes widening as she stared at the 
damage the roof had done to his body.
     The entire length of his body was mashed into the floor like an insect 
after it has been swatted by a flyswatter. She shuddered. A sudden, mad 
impulse suddenly filled her. She pulled the crushed and dead body up onto 
her lap and tore her wrist. She then laid it next to his half-open mouth and 
held her breath.
     It was risky, she knew. If he was totally gone, she was wasting 
precious blood. She might not have enough, or maybe he hadn't lost enough, 
and would become a renevant, maybe . . .
     His mouth suddenly closed with a primal instinct and she jumped. He was 
drinking, yes he was, he was still alive! Moira felt inexplicably happy 
suddenly. He was alive, and he would soon be an immortal like herself! Yes!
     His blinded eyes snapped open, and suddenly, it was like seeing for the 
first time. Colors and the pale light of the moon swirled and danced eeirely 
before his eyes, dazzling and delighting him. What had happened?
     He looked up to see Moira watching him with infinete tenderness in her 
gold eyes. "Welcome to the world of darkness, little one. You are mine now."
     "Huh? What? 'Scuse me, lady, but I don't what you're--" he stopped, a 
sudden sharp pain that started in his stomach ripping through him. He began 
coughing, retching, and the stuff that came up was blood. "Hey, what's 
happened to me . . .?"
     Moira pulled away and began to wipe the blood from the corners of his 
mouth, clucking like a mother hen. "You're dying, that's all."
     "DYING?!?" he cried, yanking himself away from her. He stared at her in 
horror as another wave of dizziness overcame him. He looked up and saw the 
body not two feet away from him. The blood drained from his face as he tried 
to say something. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He remembered the 
smash of the slab on his back; nothing could have survived that. What had 
happened? He felt dizzy again. ::I was dead, I know I was. I felt that slab 
crush me. But here I am, alive. What happened to me? And T-Bone . . . oh 
God, what happened?::
     Moira smiled, beaming at him like a happy child. "You're mine now. You 
died, you know. But you're mine now. No one can ever change that."
     Razor stared at her in confusion. Just twenty minutes ago she had been 
cold hard, cruel and calculating. Now she seemed almost like a child, simple 
and sweet. He started to speak again before Moira cut him off. "Come. I have 
to get you away from here. There will be men coming soon, and there is much 
I have to teach you. Come." She took his hand and bodily pulled him with 
her. He struggled, but his fledgling strength was still too weak to contend 
with Moira's. He turned his head so that he could see that little room. 
T-Bone . . . he felt a lump in his throat as Moira pulled him out and down 
the street to somewhere safe. But he didn't cry. T-Bone wouldn't have liked 
that. So he kept inside, staring blankly at the crumbling walls of the 
church. He looked up at the sky. The moon was up, and at full cycle. As he 
stared, he thought he could see a faint, reddish tinge to the usually pale 
silver light. He felt faint, like he was about to loose consciousness. He 
closed his eyes and allowed his dreams to envelop him.
     A bloody moon, a dark blue sky, the howling of wolves . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~ And that's the end of the first part in the Blood Moon Rising sequence. 
Whadaya think of it? ****PLEASE***** give me your advice and what-not for 
it. This is a very long story, and I need inspiration!! And don't worry, 
T-Bone's condition is *not* pernament, but *no*, he will not become a 
vampire like Jake. PLEASE give me your 
feedback!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and important note:

Many of the vampiric things in this (and any other vamp story I try) will be 
greatly influenced by the Queen of Gothic Horror, Anne Rice! Blood 
tears/sweat, the making of a vampire, all that came from her books. Just so 
you know!

Terra Chang

"I've got PLENTY of common sense . . . I just choose to ignore it."
                                            --Calvin & Hobbes
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Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional.
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"Childhood is short and maturity is forever."
                                            Calvin & Hobbes



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