When You Face An Angry Mob & An Ancient Curse

It’s almost Halloween and I wanted to give you yet another taste of a sexy piece with a curse smack in the middle of it. You may have heard about a Blue Moon – but have you ever heard about a Crimson Moon? The Red Moon is yet another ancient believe and one that the actual happening occurs maybe one every few hundred years. I decided to develop and entire curse around the concept and this short story was born. I love this piece and it’s one of my favorites – from the cover to the concept, I think you’ll enjoy and Happy Halloween.

Oh and remember – creatures really do exist…



Scarlet Dumane didn’t believe in the ways of voodoo and magic or in creatures of the night. When she was called to the Bayou to settle her grandmother’s estate, she was faced with the possibility that werewolves existed. Immediately she began receiving calls from the townsfolk that didn’t like her kind. As a mysterious stranger and former handyman of her grandmother’s appeared at her door, she was curious to find out more. Larken Myers was sexy, rough-hewn and instantly their combined chemistry indicated something more than just attraction.

Finding an ancient book telling a tall fairytale of wolves, mating and a mysterious red moon, Scarlet scoffed at the information, until the threats became real. Larken enlisted the help of his two best friends to protect the woman he adored and the secret life he shared with others deep in the woods. As the crimson hued full moon approached, the town was determined to hunt her down. Could the three wolves protect her or would their entire existence be wiped out?


Scarlet glared at the ringing phone and hissed. She managed to drop the wet bag of groceries onto the small hall table and grab the phone on the forth ring. “Scarlet Dumane.” A loud clap of thunder forced a screech to erupt from her mouth. “Shit! Hello?” Through the crackling of the phone lines she could swear she could hear someone breathing. “Hello?”

“If ya know what’s good for ya you’ll get out before ya end up dead,” the dark male voice reverberated through the phone.

She was used to her share of innocuous threats given her profession as a crime reporter in the bowels of Chicago but there was something about his ominous tone that rattled her. “Excuse me you asshole? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hang up. But she didn’t. Instead, she egged him on. “Who the hell are you, you freak?” If there was one thing she hated it was an asshole hiding behind phone or internet lines.

“You heard me. We don’t want your kind here.”

“My kind? Just what kind is that?”

Exhaling slowly, he dropped the level of his voice. “You heard me. If you don’t leave, you’ll be killed.”

“Is that a threat buddy, you cock…shit!” Realizing he’d hung up, she slammed down the receiver resisting the urge to rip the phone out of the wall. God knows she had no idea if her cell phone would work all the way out in the boondocks. Another sharp clap of thunder followed by a too close sizzle of lightening reminded her that she needed to get the rest of the groceries in before the raging storm hit. “Ah!”

Racing outside, Scarlet snagged the two bags of groceries just as the skies opened up. Scarlet dashed inside as the screen door slapped her in the ass and strolled toward the back. “Whew!” It was hot as hell in the house. Turning on the kitchen light, the dull fluorescent bulb accentuated the drab space. Her grandmother certainly hadn’t updated much in the place over the years. She set the bags down and moved back to grab the other one from the hall. It had been a long drive and she was exhausted.

Scarlet thought about the call and tried to put his ugly voice out of her mind. It was the Bayou country after all. In the few discussions she’d had with her grandmother over the last few years before her death, she had heard all about how suspicious the entire town was of strangers. Sighing, Scarlet eased her Ipod and travels speakers from her bag and cleared a space on the counter. As the soft strains of Kenny G floated into the room masking at least some of the raging storm, she willed her rattled nerves to calm down.

Opening a bottle of wine, she hummed softly as she put the groceries away thankful the electricity hadn’t been turned off. Her grandmother’s death hadn’t surprised anyone but she hadn’t anticipated being the one to deal with her grandmother’s estate. As she poured a hefty glass of wine, Scarlet knew why her family refused to have anything to do with her. Viola Dumane believed in the occult and voodoo, carrying her beliefs into the grave. Glancing around the perimeter of the stuffy space, Scarlet realized it was going to take her the entire four weeks of her leave of absence to deal with getting the house ready to sell. Thank God her boss had a wonderful soul.

Sighing, she put the rest of the groceries away and stood back gazing at her surrounding. Her grandmother had obviously thrown little away.

     Crack! Slam!

“Fuck!” Screeching, she gazed out the kitchen window as the trees swayed back and forth. The blackened sky was swirling with dense clouds and the rain pelted against the side of the house, pinging off the aluminum trim. Scarlet laughed softly, chastising her silly fears. Grabbing her wine, she moved back toward the front of the house. It was time to look around.

As the phone rang again, she shook her head. Should she not answer it? No, that wasn’t like her. She was tenacious and sometimes bulldozed into situations blindly. That was one reason she got the best and the worst of stories in a crime riddled town. Chuckling, she put on her sing-song voice as she answered the phone. “Hello.”

Heavy breathing was followed by a deep chuckle.

“Hey sexy. You want to come over here so we can perhaps take a tumble? I like my men all dark and dangerous.”

“Hmmm…be careful Scarlet Dumane because we know where you live.”

As the receiver went dead, a trickle of fear raced down her spine. It was one thing to have a mysterious caller but for him to know her name and to use the term “we” meant she was being watched. She swallowed hard and placed the phone back into the cradle. Gliding toward the front door, she closed the door, locked the deadbolt and turned around. What had she dropped into the middle of?

What do you think? 

Purr and kisses


About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
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