FSE

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Red Moon

Chapter 1

The jet jarred as the wheels touched down on the tarmac and squealed under the pressure. A small child who had done nothing but complain the entire flight began to cry, his juice had fallen off of the tray that should have been stowed away. The mother did her best to calm the child down and clean up the mess that had made it look like her son had wetted himself. The dark stain began to spread across his jeans which the mother patted at with a napkin, much to the displeasure of the child at having his crotch repeatedly padded down. The other passengers did their best to ignore the scene, everyone was tired after the grueling thirteen and a half hour flight from Washington D.C to Moscow.

The plane decelerated and came to a gentle crawl, the pilots receiving warnings of ice on the runway that had formed in the freezing temperatures of Russia in winter. With knowledge in hand, the pilots took the plane up to the terminal where a full team of people waited in thick luminous orange coats and hats waited to offload the luggage of he tired passengers. They sat on one of the electric powered trolleys, smoking and talking in Russian as the lumbering jet came to a stop behind them.

"This is your captain." A heavily accented voice that could have belonged to a bear if they spoke greeted the passengers who just wanted to find a bed to sleep in. "The local time is 9:37 A.M. Thank you for flying Delta Airlines. Welcome to Mother Russia."

Silently, the seatbelt signs that hovered over every seat flickered off and everyone got up at once, eager to leave and get on with their business. Among the passengers was Trevor McKenzie, a man who had heard of the wonders of Russia and had spent the last two years saving up for this trip. He had flown from Seattle to Washington D.C. and then finally Moscow. The trip had left him with what was by far the worst case of jet lag out of anyone else on the plane, but he didn't let his tired mind and body hold in his excitement.

From the sky he had seen the Kremlin and all of the old buildings that adorned the old Soviet capitol. He had only ever seen them on postcards and the internet and now he was in the same city. He had spent weeks planning out the trip. He wanted to see everything before he had to go back home where he would most likely never see Russia again.

Most people from the United States who went on vacation in Europe stayed in the west where it was not only more hospitable to Americans, but more hospitable in general. The weather had been predicted to drop well below zero during the day. It was predicted to be the coldest winter in over fifty years. Though Trevor only saw it as just another part of the authentic Russian experience that he so craved after hearing stories as a child from his grandfather who was from the Soviet Union.

He remembered fondly the memories of sitting at his aging grandfather's feet as he told him tales of the Soviet Union. The stories of Stalin and Lenin were supposed to scare to boy, but it only got hooked on everything Russian in the end. He wasn't old enough at the time to understand all of the bad things that happened during the Cold War and even now when he did understand, he still had a love for the country that his grandfather had been born in.

He shuffled down the thin aisle of the plane, hidden behind a large hairy man in a blue parka that snorted slightly with each breath. The flight attendants said their thanks like always, not really caring since they had to stay and cleanup for the flight black that was due to depart in just two hours.

Customs was brutally slow and even though Trevor already had a preapproved visa to enter the country, he found himself being questioned by two uniformed officers. They tried to intimidate him, but he was just in too good of a mood to let them get to him. Eventually they tired of asking him redundant questions about where he was planning on going, how much money he had brought and other things that he had already answered before when applying for the visa and let him go on his way with a stamp in his passport.

Following the signs that had small English text under Russian words, Trevor found his way to the baggage claim. Other people who had also survived the brutal welcoming party stood around, simmering in stress as they waited for their bags to come from behind a the plastic curtains that separated the passengers from the work crew that was hauling hundreds of bags of varying sizes. They began to put the bags on the conveyor belt that began to move.

Trevor found his green hard-shelled case easy enough since it was only the fourth bag to come out. He hefted it off of the conveyor belt with a little difficulty. It was exactly fifty pounds, he had made sure to pack it with as much stuff as he could without going over the weight limit. Anything that didn't fit found itself crammed along with his books and camera in his backpack or laptop case. All in all, he had nearly eighty pounds of luggage with him which was half of his weight.

Rolling out into the taxi docking area, Trevor pulled up his grey scarf around his nose to protect it against the ten kilometer per hour wind that was tearing at him. He was only wearing a slight sweater since he would have baked to death on the plane if he wore his heavy jacket that was securely packed away. He would wait until he could get one of the taxis that were being snatched up by the other equally unprepared people.

Four heavy paws tore through the lightly wooded area that laid just outside of Moscow. Each step threw up a fine mist of the powdery snow that blanketed the entire countryside. Each step also drained precious energy that needed to be replenished since the particularly cold winter had driven away most prey. Dimitri was hungry and needed sustenance after making a harrowing trek from Siberia.

He didn't understand why his grandmother had to live in that forsaken corner of the world and then die there, leaving her descendants to flock from around the world for the funeral. Most hadn't even bothered to show up, werewolves rarely left their territories. Though, he did go, but preferred to travel over land since he found the company of humans repulsive. His kinds was a dying race, cursed men and women who had been hunted for millennia until fewer than a thousand remained. Now they had fallen into myth, left to die out naturally.

Should've just sucked it up and taken the train. The thought ran through his mind as a grumble ran through his stomach. It had been nearly a week since he had last eaten and was now running on fumes. Hunting should have been easy, but he was never the best hunter. His smell was stunted to the point that it was only twice as strong as a humans which put him at a disadvantage to his prey. The price of sniffing his way through an old minefield that was from World War Two. The metallic mine had blown his nose clean off. His healing abilities allowed him to regrow bone and tissue, but it was hardly a perfect ability, his smell was never the same again.

Skidding to a halt, Dmitri looked down at the sight he was been hoping for all day. Below was the Moscow Airport. A constant stream of people who would not be missed if they disappeared. Eating humans was a measure of last resort for werewolves since they were unable to eat most prepared foods and it was too expensive for many to buy the amount of meat it took to keep them going. It was on the verge of cannibalism since they were related to them, but Dmitri was starving and needed something.

He shifted in his human form. The process took less than a minutes as his bones realigned without making the slightest of sound and he pushed himself onto two feet. He stood completely naked, his body was covered in a thick layer of body hair that fi perfectly with the stereotype for Russian men. His muscles bulged with each movement as he walked over to a fallen tree and pushed it aside.

Under it was a suitcase that held clothes that he had stashed away just for this. He couldn't very well just walk down there naked, it was not only illegal, but people would wonder why the cold wasn't affecting him in the slightest. Even if he were to shave, he would be fine, he had an extremely high metabolism that kept his body temperature near one hundred degrees Fahrenheit at all times. A perk that drained lots of energy.

He put the many layers of wool clothes that would make him blend in with the local population perfectly and walked out of the woods and towards the airport where his still keen eyesight spotted the perfect target.

An American who just reeked of being a tourist with his bright green luggage and overstuffed backpack that was weighing him down as he tried and failed to wave down several taxis.

Trevor would have been at his hotel by now if he could have just gotten a taxi though they all drove right on by. He was starting to think that they were purposefully ignoring him and going right for the locals who got a taxi as soon as they began to wave one down.

His arms were growing tired from the constant fruitless waving and the cold had eaten right through his sweater and was now relentlessly attacking his body. He was considering just going inside to warm up and calling the hotel to send something. It would be scores more expensive than a taxi but at this point it was better than freezing to death right there on the sidewalk.

"American!" A heavy voice called out before he could turn around. It was a large Russian man in what he thought was too many layers of clothing. Then again, the Russian wasn't freezing, he looked rather comfortable in the clothes unlike himself. "You need a ride?" He asked, trying to hide the growl that usually dominated his voice.

"That would be greatly appreciated." Trevor didn't know where the man came from, but he was happy to get a ride. It was odd to accept an offer from a complete stranger, but Trevor believed that random acts of kindness did occur.

The Russian raised and arm and immediately a yellow taxi that had a hefty amount of frost on its side pulled over. With a grin that exposed a pair of rather large canines, he opened the door, offering the heated insides to the man he was appearing to randomly be helping.

Graciously, Trevor rushed over, his luggage bag being pulled along behind him. "Thank you so much." He nodded and the Russian man who he noticed had a tint of deep yellow at the edges of his iris' nodded. He shrugged it off as something genetic. He once knew a person whose eyes were both green and brown.

"No problem comrade." He took the luggage bag without asking and walked over to the back of the taxi where the driver popped the trunk. He put the bag in the trunk and shut it gently, knowing that if he slammed it, he would most likely put dents which was not what he needed. He needed something to eat and it was taking all the concentration he had to not simply change and go on a feeding frenzy. Werewolves were not known for their self-control, they were primal beasts, often slaves to desire and needs.

Dmitri watched as the man got into the taxi and rested his bulging backpack on his lap. He walked over to the other side and hopped in as well.

"My name is Dmitri." He settled in next to the man who had thought that the man was just getting him a taxi and not actually riding with him.

"Umm." Trevor was rubbing his hands together vigorously, trying to get feeling back into his hands. "Trevor." He stuck out a hand automatically, a childhood of being raised by extremely formal parents had turned him into a man who would handshake a drug dealer in public without realizing it.

"Nice to be meeting you." He took his hand in a vice grip. Trevor flinched not only to the crushing grip that had now entrapped his hand, but the extreme warmth of the man's skin as well. It felt like he was holding onto a hot water bottle.

After realizing he had been holding onto the man's hand for a bit too long, he pulled it back with a shy smile and went back to rubbing his hands together now that the warmth was gone.

"Where to?" The driver sat lazily in the driver's seat, not caring about the American who was now in his taxi. He glanced up at the rear view mirror, focusing on the large Russian man.

"Where are you heading to?" Dmitri asked, resting his arm on the back of the seat, lounging and not moving to buckle his seat.

Trevor dug into his pockets with his fingers that were beginning to get the feelings of pins and needles now that they were coming back to life. He pulled out a slip of paper that he had which was covered in notes. "The Swiss... Swissotel Kras..." He fumbled with the unfamiliar pronunciation, blushing while doing so, from coming in from the cold is what he told himself. He did find the Russian quite attractive. His face a well sculpted with a defining chin and a short scruffy beard to give it even more character.

"Swissôtel Krasnye Holmy" Dmitri finished the man's words and the driver nodded and plugged the information into the GPS that hung lopsidedly from the dashboard.

"Thanks." Trevor folded up the paper and stowed it away back in his pants pockets. He wasn't so cold anymore, the taxi was well heated as the heaters blasted away with reckless abandon. "How can I repay you?"

There was only one thing of Dmitri's mind as he gazed into the man's eyes. "How about getting me dinner?"