Blood Moon

2

The rain started to fall as Elliot dashed back to the hotel. His finely tuned instincts were being put to work as he weaved his way through the still busy sidewalks of New York City. Normally, it would have been easy but today he was in pain. He cradled his arm, dislocated at the shoulder. The pain was distracting him enough it was almost an effort to not run into people the speed of sound.

Elliot cut through an alleyway and allowed himself time to slow down to a brisk walking pace. Traversing this way was almost too slow for Elliot at this time of night, but it was the most discrete. He turned a corner and spotted the awning stretched out in front of the hotel entrance. A doorman stood outside, grinning at people walking past, happily avoiding the steady rainfall.

Elliot jogged the rest of the way, trying to match pace with a man in front of him. He stopped short of the doorman and gave him an exasperated sigh.

"Long night, Mister Carson?" He asked with a slight grin. Then he noticed Elliot's arm hanging almost limp at his side. "Shouldn't you go to the doctor for that?"

Elliot chucked and shook his head. "It'll be fine by morning, don't you fret."

The doorman shrugged and Elliot walked in. The bright florescent lights burned his sensitive eyes as his eyes adjusted. Elliot ignored the line of elevators and elected for the stairs, preying they were deserted as always. I was a flight up when he shot up the rest in the blink of an eye. He stopped short of running through the door and proceeded at a mundane pace to his and Selene's shared suite.

The smell hit him as soon as he opened the door and he let out a low growl. Fresh running blood, but it was laced with a disease he associated with wet dog, mixed horribly with natural musk and a body spray to cover the smell. Elliot rolled his eyes, pausing in the doorway, then proceeded the rest of the way into the room. Elliot looked over at the source of the smell and, unsurprisingly, found a young man in his late teens. He had blonde hair, matted from sweat, and blue eyes which had a long stare that didn't fit the young man. His clothes were cheap, like he had recently bought them with what little money he had. His jeans were starting to fray at the bottom from long distances of walking.

Elliot sighed. "If you are here to kill me, could you make it fast?" Elliot turned his attention away from the boy and headed toward the kitchenette in the suite. He heard the boy stand and take a few tentative steps toward him, then stop short. Elliot reached for an overhead cabinet where he knew a bottle of Selene's wine was sitting, waiting to be opened.

The boy drew in a deep breath. "You're Elliot Carson, right?" He asked. There was a hint of incredulousness and shock in his voice, which Elliot had grown accustomed to hearing over the years.

"Considering you are effectively standing in my bedroom, son, I think you can answer that question yourself." Elliot responded, grabbing a bottle of white wine by the neck and ignored the crystal glasses placed neatly next to it. He turned to the boy again. "How did you get in here?"

The boy turned and pointed to the window. "I climbed."

Elliot placed the bottle on the counter and cocked his head. "Are you crazy or dim?"

The boy looked taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"You scaled a building, in New York City, and climbed through a window?" Elliot said incredulously. "Despite the fact that it was probably one of the most reckless maneuvers I have ever witness in this city, I must congratulate you."

The boy blinked a few times. "Congratulate me."

Elliot began searching for a corkscrew. "In one climb you could have exposed the entire magical world to the city of New York. The police could break down the door at any moment to capture the beast. The News choppers could be at that window in an instant. And yet – ah ha!" Elliot exclaimed, holding up the corkscrew. "And yet none of that has happened since you have been hear. Thus, congratulations are in order."

"Th-thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, boy," Elliot said, "tell me why you are here." Elliot began twisting the screw into the cork stopper on the bottle. "And give me a hand with this would you?" He indicated the bottle.

The boy reached out and gripped the neck of the bottle firm as Eliot twisted. "I need your help."

Elliot yanked the stopped out. "I am glad we could get the obvious out of the way." Elliot tossed the screw and the cork aside. He looked at the boy, who looked more confused than ever. Elliot finally had his answer from earlier. Elliot rolled his eyes. "What do you need help with?"

The boy suddenly looked sheepishly down at his shoes. "It's kind of a long story."

"I'm a busy man, lad."

"My name's Peter Harris." The boy said.

Elliot looked at him with narrowed eyes. He drew in a deep breath and let his thoughts unscramble. "A pleasure to meet you Peter Harris. Now, I am a busy man and I could be in Florida by morning, so out with it or get out."

Elliot started toward the table in the room, taking a long drag from the wine bottle. The burning in his throat quenched ever so slightly, but that made all the difference to the Hunter. The boy followed him over to the table.

"I don't know where to begin." Peter said quietly.

"Then get out and let me drink in peace," Elliot snapped.

Peter drew in a heavy breath, got a pained look on his face, before blurting out much too loudly: "I think I killed someone!"

Elliot nodded slowly, as if listening to a long story that nobody was telling. He set the bottle on the table, pointed a finger in the air, then turned away from the boy. He took a deep breath, lined up his shot, and carefully slammed his shoulder against the wall. Elliot could hear the sickening pop as his shoulder went back into its socket. When he turned back, the boy was wincing as if he were in pain, looking at Elliot's shoulder with a sickened expression.

The hunter grabbed the wine bottle, sat at the table, and propped his legs up on another chair. "Please, continue."